#two positive reviews in a row??!

[cassandracalin]

It's been a month since the release of my debut graphic novel, THE NEW GIRL. During this time:

THE NEW GIRL received positive reviews, including two starred reviews from School Library Journal and Publishers Weekly.

It appeared on the Amazon Books billboard in NYC (still can’t believe this!)

It ranked #2 on the Indie Bestseller list for 2 weeks in a row, making it also the highest-ranking debut release and graphic novel.

It received a Junior Library Guild Gold Standard Selection award.

BookRiot included THE NEW GIRL in their roundup of "10 of the Best New Children's Books Out in June 2024."

The French edition was announced, which will be released on July 16th. Les Éditions Scholastic have done a wonderful job on the translation!

Your support has been incredible, and I can’t thank you enough! ❤️

[jjkeremika]

Valentine

description: AoT men and women asking you to on a valentine's date <3

pairing: Levi; Armin; Jean; Erwin; Eren & Mikasa; Historia; Zeke; Reiner x reader

Levi

Levi stood at your apartment door with flowers and concert tickets to your favorite band. He shifted his weight between his heels and toes as he nervously wondered if he should turn back before you realized he had arrived.

Two solid knocks and a light pause later, you opened the door to his stoic demeanor, his lips relaxing into a smile at the sight of you in comfy clothes. He briefly glanced down to his ratty jeans and aged leather jacket. “Hey,” he greeted after clearing his throat, regretting his appearance. He felt he should've dressed up for you.

“Levi, hey!” you returned excitedly, about to pull him in for a hug when you noticed the flowers in his hand. You didn’t comment on them. “What are you doing here? Oh! Come on in!”

You dragged him by his forearm inside, closing the door behind you. “Oh, I was just,” he said quietly, shrugging, “around. And,” Levi lifted the flowers, shifted the weight between his feet. “I saw these and thought of you.”

“Awh, Levi, they’re beautiful!” You eagerly took the flowers from him, brought them to your nose for a long sniff. “Thank you.” You hugged him with one arm before pulling away and rushing to your kitchenette. “Let me just get a vase. Make yourself comfortable as always.”

He followed you to the kitchen, stood awkwardly in the doorway and tried to not blatantly gawk at your figure as you bent over to search the cabinets for the vase.

“I, uh, also saw that Linked Horizon are coming on the fourteenth. Did you s—?”

“Oh my god, yeah!” you exclaimed, hopping up from your position in the cabinet, the ornate glass in your palms. “I saw that!” You filled the glass with water and a spoon of sugar. “But I never bought tickets and now it’s sold out.”

Levi rubbed the papery tickets against each other in his pocket. He watched as you used shears to cut the bottoms off the stems. He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket.

“Well, if you’re not busy that day…” You carefully dropped each stem in the water, rearranging the flowers and tossing the fallen leaves and petals. He stepped into the room, drawing your attention, and held the two tickets openly. “I’d like to go with you.”

Armin

Working at the library was honestly one of your favorite parts of the day. It was slow, mindless, relaxing, and quiet. The ambiance was kind, and any sour moods evaporated instantly once you entered those archaic arched doors.

Since it was a library, you didn’t really speak with your coworkers beyond necessity, but the blond boy who spent his time at the admin desk always caught your attention—and he was always already looking to you.

The two of you spoke in an unintelligible morse code, an unspoken language of wordless greetings and longing thoughts and lingering stares.

When you both started speaking, it was by bonding over a love of puzzles and logic traps. Armin and you shared stories of writing and interpreting ciphers and tricks, discussed possibilities of work-related games for entertainment.

On the twelfth, you started your shift with the return cart, and a large note in black ink stopped you from starting the task. For Y/N, please review the following, it read, proceeded by four rows each with four columns containing a decimal value and three numbers.

You recognized the decimal shorthand and spotted the books already on the return cart. You picked up the first one and reviewed the set of numbers, eventually determining it as indicators for the desired page number, line, and word.

Once you deciphered the message, you smiled and felt the warm flutter in your belly. You dragged the cart upstairs to the main entrance, stopped outside the administration room to see the familiar fluffy blond hair poking over the computer screen.

Wordlessly you entered and sauntered over to his desk, dropped the sheet of paper with the decoded message and your answer on his desk and left with a wink, leaving him with amazed wide eyes and an open jaw as you left the room.

Will you be my valentine?

—Yes x

Jean

Connie told him the traditional approach was stupid and uninteresting. “It’s y/n! They’re cool and fun and hilarious and awesome! You can’t do something unbelievably lame like you always do,” Connie had rambled in an eccentric voice that now haunted Jean’s thoughts.

“Fucking Connie,” Jean cursed to himself as he fixed his hair in the reflection of the window, trying to maintain his balance as the train rushed over unsteady tracks. He nervously glanced down at his watch, frantically grabbed the handlebar when the tram lurched to a stop.

Jean hopped off and rushed to the bar at which the two of you had decided to meet. He spotted you instantly, in the tight red fuzzy sweater vest and still perfectly fitting baggy jeans. He regretted his overly dressed up appearance with his matching suit and pink tie for somehow still lacking.

“Y/n,” Jean leisurely greeted with an eager grin and sparkling eyes, feeling his body warm up at the quick embrace you gave, “thank you for meeting me here.”

You gestured to the free seat next to you; he sat down. “Oh, Jean, it’s my pleasure,” you said with a smile, “thank you for asking me here.”

The conversation flowed naturally, and Jean felt himself warming up from your attention, the drink, or the room. He slid his jacket off and tugged on his necktie in a failed attempt to cool off.

You noticed the pink tint on his skin and the faint hitch in his breath. You noticed the awkward tugging on his necktie, that he was wearing a necktie at all. You noticed the smile he hid when you touched his arm with your long fingernails, when your thigh brushed against his.

As the night neared its end and he still hadn’t asked, the adrenaline rushed through his veins and he heard Connie’s cynical voice echo in his brain. He felt his stomach drop with each glance towards you, because he was convincing himself he couldn’t ask, couldn’t be worth more than nothing to you.

“I’d really like to see you again,” you hinted while you both stood on the pavement, “soon.” You felt the heat burning into your skull. The shocked expression on his face was tortuous. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that was too far.

Maybe it was far enough. “Y/n… would you maybe like to spend Valentine’s day with me?”

Erwin

You had visited the older instructor’s office to ask some questions on the class content, to seek some extra support on upcoming assignments.

Connie had told you Smith was the most helpful of the instructors, but you neglected to factor in the biceps the size of your head, the voice that was smooth like margarine, the eyes that stranded you alone at sea. His help was marginalized by his distracting features, by the concerned expression when he asks if you understand contrasting his brilliant smile and demeanor when you say yes.

And did it really matter if you only understood when it came from him?

His elbow bumped into yours as he leaned to the side, closer to you, to view your page. "Y/n," he started, his leg brushing against yours as he uncrossed his thighs and leaned back in the chair, the skin tingling in his touch's memory, "would it help to meet regularly?"

The question alone caught you by surprise, but paired with his heavy tone, thick with uninterpretable layers, and a curious expression with a piercing blue, watchful gaze. You barely heard him tap his foot over the blood roaring in your ears.

"We can start with an additional meeting on the..." Erwin trailed off, clicking through his online tabs to find the calendar. "The fourteenth." He punctuated his sentence with a click on the date, your eye catching the empty schedule as it appeared on the screen. He turned to you. "We can start then and take it from there."

"O-Okay," you agreed, nodding in sync with the faint throb in your pelvis as your brain reeled with the improbable. "Thank you." Your voice was quiet, and you barely heard yourself speak.

"Absolutely," he breathed out, "more than happy to help." He glanced you up and down, rested his chin between his thumb and fingers to hide his lips, his light blue eyes darkening. "I'll order us something to eat too."

Eren & Mikasa

Mikasa was scribbling your and her names in the corner of her notebook page, actively drawing the small heart around it, when Eren suddenly and loudly slid into the seat next to her, causing her to jump and draw a line through the doodle. She hid it with her palm.

Eren looked at her with a bold desperation in his eyes. “Mikasa, I’ve been thinking about asking y/n out for Valentine’s…” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the side sheepishly. “Do you have any ideas?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “O-oh,” she stuttered out, taking a half-breath to quell the unsettling feeling in her gut, “I, um.” She glanced to the palm covering the doodle. “I’ve been wondering the exact same thing actually…” She swallowed dryly. “With y/n, too…”

It’s not that she expected him to be upset, but she was surprised when his eyes lit up in a mix of excitement and relief. He perked up, straightened his spine and leaned towards Mikasa. “Let’s ask together! We can do, like, a three-person date.” He shrugged, tried to contain his eagerness. “I’m not against it. But I still have no fucking clue how to ask.”

You entered the room mid-sentence, both of their eyes focusing to you as you crossed the room to a desk. You glanced up from your phone to see both of them already looking at you, both smiling and waving immediately.

“Hey, babes,” you greeted the two of them, affectionately fixing the out-of-place strand of hair near Mikasa’s forehead. You turned to Eren and smiled wider at his eager anticipation. “I was addressing you too,” you clarified, rubbing his shoulder.

Eren leaned into your touch. “Do you have any Valentine’s plans?” Mikasa asked, playing with her pen. You spotted the heart near her hand.

You started to feel warm, flattened your lips to try to suppress the growing grin but eventually bit your bottom lip. “Not currently. Sounds like I might in a minute, though,” you responded with a wink, smiled wider at the light pink stretching across her nose.

Eren’s voice caught your attention, and you suddenly became aware of the arm he snaked around your waist under your backpack, noticed that your arm had slid along his shoulders, “Would you... want to spend it with us?” he asked nervously, before rushing out, “It doesn’t have to be a date, but, well—”

The heat settled in your stomach, and you felt your pulse in each body part. Your smile twitched at the question—at the implication.

“Yes,” you interrupted Eren’s rambling with a confident answer to a question you’ve never considered before, but now will never forget, “I’d love to spend it with you two. As a date.”

Historia

Ymir had the largest scowl on her face when Historia shyly walked over to you, a pink blush on her cheeks and a sweaty hairline. You shifted uncomfortably under Ymir’s gaze when your eyes flicked to the blonde girl standing in front of you, looking at the floor.

“Hey, y/n,” she started quietly, her cute, high-pitched voice singing in your ear, “how’s your day going?” She had a sickeningly sweet smile, one that made your stomach flip and turn with nerves. You felt your inhale cut short as she stared at you with big, rounded blue eyes.

"Good, thanks," you answered with a smile, “how’s yours?” You continued to pack your bag with your notebooks, ignoring the uncomfortable heat of Ymir’s bold glare.

“Better now,” she answered, a light rouge appearing on her cheekbones. The giddy feeling erupted in your gut and bubbled into a doey smile. “Do you have Valentine’s plans yet?”

You shook your head, tugging on the last zipper. “Nope,” you answered casually, unbothered by the notion of being single on the love holiday, “i’ll probably watch a movie at home.”

“Oh, good idea! I love movies!” Historia added, the grin taking up her face. “I..." The tips of her ears tinted pink. "I don’t have plans either." She rocked back and forth on her heels, clutched her notebook a little closer to her chest. "Would you want to watch a movie together?”

You corrected your posture and returned her soft gaze. "Yeah," you answered with an exhale, started to put your backpack on. "I'd really like that."

Zeke

Zeke haphazardly handed you the blunt, the leaflet threatening to slip from your fingertips and fall from the third story window. “Ze, careful,” you told the older man, rolling your eyes despite the smile lingering on your pursed lips, “you’re gonna’ make me drop it.”

He snorted, settling with an open mouthed smile. You watched the faint red appear around his cerulean eyes. “I can’t make you do anything.” He stretched his hand out, silently requesting the roll back.

You crossed your legs, took a long huff, then passed it over. Your fingers brushed against his, the light sensation tickling the skin for moments after. “If you hand it off wrong and I drop it, that’s your fault,” you explained simplistically, shrugging to emphasize the easiness of it all.

The smoke curled around his beard, followed the lines of the glasses resting on top of his head. He flicked the wrap, spent ash falling to the windowsill. “But I didn’t make you drop it,” Zeke retorted, blowing some residual smoke into your face. He chuckled as you closed your eyes and swatted the contaminant away.

“But you played a direct role!” You reached over and stole the blunt from him before he brought it between his lips; the blond man laughed as he let you take it, watched intently as you brought it to your own. “Wouldn’t have happened without you,” you mumbled with a long exhale, the picturesque smoke rolling off your tongue.

Zeke leaned against the wall, let his wrist rest against his knee, and tilted his head. His smile softened the longer he stared at you directing smoke and ash out the window. “I also play a direct role in asking if you want to have dinner with me on the fourteenth, but I can’t make you say yes.”

You looked out the window, suppressing the blushing grin by biting your lip. You affectionately rolled your eyes at his redirection. Not the same thing—like at all. “It’s different when you know I will,” you retorted, taking a hit and holding it until it burned, still avoiding eye contact.

“So… you will?” He eyed you carefully, handed the rest of the blunt to you and dropped his glasses onto his nose. “Say yes, I mean?” Zeke nudged your foot with his.

The roll slipped from your fingers as you focused on hiding your red cheeks and toothy grin behind your palm. “Well, obviously, yeah,” you answered sheepishly. You spotted the wrap on the wooden floor. “And see! You made me drop it!”

Reiner

You patted into the kitchen to find Reiner in front of the stove, steam rising from the pans as he shifted between items. You admired his bare back, the smooth, silky-looking skin intimately caressing tight, bulky muscles interrupted only by the thin linen apron straps.

The sudden noise of the espresso machine caused you to jump and squeal, which brought Reiner's attention to you. He hurried over, gave you a quick kiss to the cheek. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet," he murmured between more kisses, eventually pressing his lips to yours for a lingering lock.

"I can smell everything from the next room," you responded, lightly tapping his firm chest and kissing his lips again. He pulled away to attend to the aromatic contents on the stove. You sat on a bar stool. “Smells delicious, by the way.”

You saw the way his thin lips morphed into a pleased smile. “Should taste so, too,” he hummed his agreement, turned his back towards you for five more minutes. You indulged in the sight, feeling your own pupils dilate to take in more of his broad shoulders and tailored back.

Then he was making a lot of ruckus, rapidly opening drawers to find utensils and rushing to and from the fridge for toppings and ingredients. He was tossing food onto one plate and carefully aligning it on another.

You slipped off the stool to peak over, smiled at his concentrated brows and peaking tongue as he drizzled chocolate onto the dish.

You were right behind him when he turned around with the dish ostentatiously in his hands, his kind blue eyes sparkling with pride and excitement and anticipation.

You audibly gasped and brought your hands to your open smile. “Reiner! Wow!” you said astonished, hearing and feeling your stomach rumble with hunger at the sight of the heart-shaped pancakes with a chocolate lace drizzle, at the bacon and eggs and toast arranged on the side.

He waited for you to read the hidden message, the note written in jam on the toast. You giggled, took the plate from him to put on the counter, and embraced him. “I’d love to be your valentine,” you said with a long kiss.

[certifiedstarrr]

"i'll beat her bitch ass." - c.s

femvolleyballplayer!y/n x chris

warnings: cursing, crying, intentional lowercase, no grammar used (intentional), past injury, use of y/n (sorry?)

summary: it’s the semi-finals of the biggest volleyball tournament of the year and y/n feeling great at first but 2 people who were supposed to be there didn’t show upーthen after her game she gets the worst news of her life. will it affect her gameplay for the tournament?

this is set in some random ass au that i can’t really explain😭😭

p.s sorry to people named amelia, no hate to y’all !💗

don’t like don’t read !!

find some other shit to do.

not proofread (a bitch don’t got no time for that shit)

this is my work and i do not approve of plagiarism in any way. i also do not approve of reposting my work onto other apps or anything of the idea. SSTVRNIOLOO 2024.

a/n: HEYY so this is your surprise fic ive been working onnnn ~ this could be a series but idk yet 🤷🏾‍♀️ also my laptop stopped working so i don’t have the option of typing anymore, so it’ll be on my phone or ipad. (mostly ipad though) 💔

wc: 1.1k

happy reading loviess !

ೃ༄

waking up feeling great, but then remembering about my volleyball game in the semi-finals, i felt nervous. i hop out my bed and start walking to my bathroom.

heading over to the bathroom to brush my teeth, wash my face and do my daily skincare.

i grab my jersey from a hanger in my closet, closing the closet door after equipping the clothing item i needed.

bringing the jersey to my head, pulling it over my head, and the jesey laying tight on my torso. the red and blue complemented each other well and suited my natural complexion.

seizing my knee pads, arm sleeves, and leg brace and shoving them into my sports bag. i anxiously fumble with the zipper; failing many times to zip it up but succeeding after attempt six.

going down my steps, i pull out my phone and go to me and chris' texts.

y/n

hey baby are you almost here?

read: 2:03pm

chris💗

yeah ill be there in 5

read: 2:04pm

y/n

alright see you soon baby💕

read: 2:05pm

i shove my phone back into my sports bag and wait for my boyfriend to pick me up.

ೃ༄

i look around in the crowd; searching for the two people who said they’d be here and wouldn’t miss it for the worldーmy parents who are fucking liars.

it was the semi-finals of the biggest college volleyball tournament of the year and i was excited.

until i saw two empty chairs waiting to filled by no one. but i saw my friends and my biggest supporterーmy boyfriend of two years: chris. he was there for every game, there to pick me up from practice; whatever i needed. i loved him more than anything.

the stadium was fullーspecifically 23,000 people. it was sold out and i see a sea of people wearing our school colors: red and blue.

everybody was here: from alumni, parents, and students. i was a tiny bit nervous because i’d never seen so many people come to watch our school play.

but after all, it was the semi-finals.

i scanned and searched the crowd and found the triplets, and my friends: lauren and angelina.

i met up with my teammates at the bench and we went over our game plan. i look over at the opposing team and see my biggest rival.

amelia. the little fucking bitch that plays foul. the snarkiest grin decorating her stupid face.

last season she almost permanently injured me over one pre-season gameーi was hospitalized for 3 fucking months and she just laughed about it and acted like she didnt know what i was talking about. that bitch could have injured me so badly that i coulda been kept in the hospital longer, or permently.

i scanned the front row and once i found him, chris doing our secret messageーblowing a kissーwhich means “you got this, i love you, and kill their asses”.

doing our team chant and reviewing our lineup. my position was spiker; specifically outside hitter. so that means i was main hitter: who got most of the sets.

meghan; my setterーwho was also one of my best friends, did our secret handshake and communicated with hand gestures that the opposing team doesn't know: which in turn gives us the opportunity to fix a plan during the game.

ೃ༄

everyone was set in their correct position and the sea of people went silent. it was so silent you could hear a pin drop. the first whistle blew and i locked in.

it’s you, the ball, and your teammates. nothing else matters right now.

the first serve of game and its already a long rally.

the perfect set comes from meghanーdirectly to me,

i spike the volleyball and the only sound heard in whole the stadium was the loud smack of my palm hitting the ball straight down to the floor on the opponent's side.

it went to amelia and she dove for it but missed.

i let out a little giggle as her face twisted into an furious one. i loved pissing her offーand each time i do, its payback for her injuring me.

ೃ༄

whilst jumping to block a deep incoming set dump, lorelai; one of our team's middle blockers, landed wrong on her ankle and broke it.

she was such a good blocker and which now she had to exit the game due to her ankle, left me in a state of disappointment.

another one of our other middle blockers, yasmine, traded spots for lorelai. she wasnt as good but still played well and got the job done.

i look over at the crowd and see the triplets and my two friends holding a banner that spelled out "let's go y/n". i cheesed at the bannerーbut still with a stupidly wide grin on my face.

ೃ༄

it was down to the final minute of the game and the crowd was on their feet.

i was serving. and hell, i was scared i was gonna mess it all up. my jump-serve was excellent, but i was in shambles when it came to the final seconds of a game; even if i wasnt playing.

throwing the ball into the air as the sea of people that gaped at my every move. running after it and jumping in the air and cocking my arm backーswinging it at the ball, hitting it far left to a weaker player on the opposing team.

scoring an ace,

"all ace !!"

my team cheered. they lost. fuck you amelia.

ೃ༄

amelia scoffed, flipping me off and walking over, slapping me over apparently "cheating". also telling me that chris didnt love me and i was just a good fuck.

and that's where i dont play.

shits about to go down.

"i'll beat her bitch-ass."

extra: guys i felt so much relief releasing your surpise fic <33

also dont play wit y/nnnnnnnn she gon beat amelia's ass

now if i wake up to an activity page of who-knows-how-many thingies its better than christmas morning ~ i have a angsty chris fic sitting in my drafts and im trying to start it but ive no motivation to start writing, and i just realized anna: (@worldlxvlys), riyah (@hoesformatt), and grace (@lacysturniolo) follow me. tysm for reading !! sorry im a giant yapper

xoxo, riri !

taglist: 🏷 @lovingmattysposts @elliesturniolo1 @elliewrites1 @sturnsbitch @luvmxtt @vanteguccir @novasturniolo03 @tyjna6 @sturnlova @sturniolo-lover1317 @patscorner

(comment here to be on my taglist !)

[writingquestionsanswered]

Worried About Traction/Why Write?

Anonymous asked: Okay answer me this, so I've read how trad publishing is going to shit, but self-publishing I doubt I could gain any traction with. Then why fucking write, ya know? People say, "write for yourself," which sounds like a lot of goody bullshit. I want people to love my writing, I need some type of validation. So, how the hell do I get anyone to care about my stories?

Just a quick note that this ask came in off Anon, and I wasn't sure if it was meant to, so I put I'm posting it Anon to be on the safe side.

So, I don't want to get too much into the "is traditional publishing dying" debacle, because it's a conversation that's complex and nuanced and outside of my energy reserves at the moment. What I will say is that the traditional publishers--the Big Five in particular--still dominate the market, especially where print books are concerned. And although self-publishing can respond more quickly to trends and shifting tastes, traditional publishing continues to evolve.

Having said that, even if traditional publishing was stronger than ever before, that wouldn't guarantee you a book deal. Even in the best of times, the odds of being traditionally published are between 1 and 2%. Even if you get a book deal, that doesn't guarantee your book will be a best-seller. Hundreds of thousands of books are traditionally published every year, and far fewer than 1% of those books will become best sellers. Being traditionally published doesn't even guarantee your book will be sold in brick and mortar bookstores. I can point you toward traditionally published books that have been out almost a year and still have fewer than 10 reviews on Amazon. I can point you toward many more with fewer than 30.

And, while we're on the subject, I can show you self-published books with thousands of reviews (positive ones, btw...)

The point is, it doesn't really matter how you publish. What you write, how you write, and how you market is far, far more important. But the reality is, most of us aren't writing the kinds of books that are going to be best-sellers, BookTok sensations, Oprah's Book Club selections, or get optioned for film rights before the ink on the book deal is even dry. So, when you say you need validation, what does that look like for you? Does it mean seeing your name at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks straight? Seeing your book on eye-level shelves at an international airport? Hundreds of fans showing up to your book signing? A-hundred thousand followers on Twitter eagerly awaiting news of your next release? Or, does it look like someone... anyone... enjoying your book enough to leave a 5-star review... someone calling you their favorite writer, several fans re-posting your cover reveal because they're so excited for your upcoming book, or someone writing to say your book got them through a difficult time in their lives? Because, while I would never tell you not to dare to dream of achieving the former list of expectations, I will absolutely tell you the latter list of expectations is well within your grasp. So, if that's validation enough for you, write for those people. If it isn't, and it's not enough to write for yourself, then I think all you can do is try. Write the best stories you can write. Get them out there. Promote the hell out of them and see what happens. Maybe you will be one of those lucky few who see their book at the top of the NYT best seller list for five weeks in a row. Or, maybe you won't, but you get a two-page e-mail from a fan who says your story changed their life. And maybe, after all, that's enough. Here are some posts that can help you start building a following ahead of publishing, whatever route you end up choosing. Building a buzz on social media ahead of publishing and consistent promotion afterward can make a big difference. Even if you publish traditionally. Guide: Getting Your Writing Noticed on Tumblr Guide: Author Platforms-What, Why, and How? Guide: How to Promote Yourself as a Writer/Author via Social Media 12 Sites for Sharing Original Fiction

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 3

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Just some fluff before we jump into some more story.

Part 1 Here. Part 7 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 4 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

Part 6 Here Part 11 Here

The atmosphere in Vault 33 was buzzing. It’s not every day the Vault gets to throw a wedding celebration, let alone one for the Overseerer’s daughter. The wedding date was still a few days away, but there were still so many preparations to complete, and everyone had their part to play. Food was to be catered, decorations were to be made, and wedding gifts for the newlyweds were to be collected. The wedding committee had their hands full, organizing a successful event to unite two lives and the communities of two vaults. Even with the added workload and stress of pulling an event like this together, you couldn’t deny the positive impact the upcoming nuptials had on everyone in Vault 33. Weddings do that. All types of love are in the air whenever there’s a wedding. Not just the romantic love of the bride and the groom but also the outpouring of love from the friends, family, and community surrounding those getting married. And it’s contagious. Even Norm was wearing a rare smile these days, and while, yes, part of the reason for that smile related to his sister’s wedding day, he had another reason to be happy. 

His second chance performance review was canceled; thank you, Lucy!

Well, that and the fact that he and (Y/N) were back on speaking terms. Over the last week, the two met up for the occasional lunch break or an evening walk through the corridors of Vault 33, attempting to catch up on the elements of friendship during their years apart. 

Conversations started with informing the other of what they’d been up to over their time apart, though they were unsurprisingly short since they still lived quarantined together in the same four walls. She was already aware of his series of demotions, and he was already poking fun at her decision to join the Vault 33 book club. Norm was surprised at how quickly any lingering awkwardness dissipated, and they fell into a routine. It was as though no time had passed when it came to their friendship; they picked up right where they left off.

---------------------

Norm was running late. He hurried down the systems corridor toward the main atrium. The light reflecting down the corridor walls from the Vault’s telesonic projector indicated he was close. Soon, he’d be greeted with the simulated sights and sounds of the Nebraskan countryside along the Vault walls. Entering the atrium, he squinted, adjusting to the artificial sunlight, and panned the room, looking for a familiar face. He didn’t see you in the main square, but he had a good idea of another place to look. 

He followed the main square, then hung a left along the rows of corn stalks and towards one of the back walls of the Vault atrium. There you were, sitting on the ground cross-legged among the corn stalks, book in hand. Norm approached slowly, trying not to startle you, and joined you on the ground, avoiding the dirt piles as best he could. 

“You know there are perfectly good tables back there, right?” 

“Well aware,” you state, not fully acknowledging his presence yet. You pull yourself from the book, close your eyes, and raise your head towards the fake sun, basking it in. “But there’s something about finding a spot on the ground—almost enough to make you think you’re outside.”

Norm copies your movement, closing his eyes and trying to feel any sensation on his skin. He vaguely remembers feeling the warmth from the simulated sun on his skin—a moment from childhood. The memory itself is fuzzy, lacking details, but the sensation—it felt so real. It’s incredible how well your brain can manipulate your senses, tricking you into believing you experienced the real deal. He’s sure that’s what he’s recalling. His brain’s simulated response to what the sun should feel like. He opens his eyes, slightly disappointed. 

Not wanting to dwell on his disappointment, he changes the subject, “What are you reading?” 

You open your eyes and pass him the novel; it’s your favorite classic. “I’m circling back through the classics' currently.” 

Norm takes the book as you hand it to him and raises an eyebrow at you. “What do you mean circling back through?”

You blush, the wave of embarrassment rising, coloring your cheeks. “Well…I’ve kind of, sort of  read through all the books available in the Vault’s library.”

“You're sick,” he chuckles. “How on Earth is that even possible? There's no way you’re human.” 

You snatch the copy of your favorite novel back from him, trying to hide how red you’ve gotten. “It’s not like we’ve got much else going on down here. Plenty of time on our hands.” 

Now it’s your turn to change the subject. “Lucy, getting excited for the big day?” 

“That’s an understatement. It’s almost exclusively been the only topic of conversation in the MacLean household for weeks. Dad’s been discussing remodeling her room once she moves out to make space for his pre-war Western movie memorabilia.”

“What is it about dads and those Western movies? Mine had that obsession, too. He couldn’t get enough of that one cowboy actor. What was his name?”

“Howard.” 

“Yes, him and power armor models. I swear it's a collective special interest that bonds to their DNA when you have a kid.”

“Yeah, I think mine was like that pre Lucy and I. I’m just excited to move on to something, ANYTHING else.” As he finishes, his smile gives him away. You can see he’s genuinely happy for his older sister. 

“I’m impressed with anyone willing to marry someone they’ve never met; I’d be too afraid to risk it. That’s too much commitment sight-unseen.” 

“We’re probably not the best subjects for that type of experiment. You barely like anyone.” 

“I don’t mind you.” 

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm on your Pip-Boy sounds. 

“Shit, I’m going to be late to book club.” 

“I seriously can’t believe you joined a book club. A bunch of pretentious assholes in a room trying to come up with hot takes on hundred-year-old books to one-up each other. Just skip it. No one will notice if you miss one night.” 

“I can’t really skip when I’m hosting.” 

“Hosting book club? Now I seriously don’t know who you are.” Norm jokes. “How does Ms. Anti-Social get roped into hosting a social gathering?” 

You shrug, beginning to stand. “When you host, you get to pick the book, and what could be more fun than picking the most ambiguous novel I could think of for a group that needs the correct interpretation?” 

Norm mouths “Evil” back at you as you head off to your meeting. 

You couldn't wait to give him the play-by-play tomorrow.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

David Rowe, American Financial Review

* * * *

Harris and Walz work through Labor Day while Trump golfs and complains

September 3, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

The Democratic ticket and surrogates were out in force on Labor Day weekend—including Kamala Harris, Tim Walz, President Joe Biden, Second Gentleman Doug Emhoff, and Gwen Walz. That is a formidable lineup. The Harris-Walz ticket is campaigning like they want to win. Kamala Harris continues to exhibit confidence and positivity as she refines her call-and-response stump speech while courting the labor vote. Tim Walz is on the offensive against Trump, while Gwen Walz is going “full English teacher” on Trump.

Joe Biden gave a spirited pro-union speech that attacked Trump's anti-union history. See Campaign Event in Pittsburgh | Joe Biden. Joe introduced Kamala with a warm embrace and a smile. Harris then gave her stump speech (with variations and riffs). See Campaign Event in Pittsburgh | Kamala Harris.

Donald Trump and JD Vance stayed off the campaign trail on Labor Day--which may be their best strategy to stop the erosion of their support among eligible voters. See The Independent, Harris, Biden court union vote at first official joint rally as Trump accused of ‘dodging’ Labor Day.

But Trump couldn’t help himself and spent much of the day on his vanity social media platform posting statements that appeal to people who subscribe to Truth Social—i.e., Trump's most hard-core supporters. But even on Truth Social, the Harris-Walz campaign was on the offensive, posting a “Labor Day” picture of Harris and Walz in split screen with Trump.

The Harris-Walz portion of the photo was superimposed with the words:

Vice President Harris with union workers in Detroit

Gov. Walz with union workers in Milwaukee

Vice President Harris and President Biden with union workers in Pittsburgh

The Trump portion of the split screen had the following words superimposed:

Trump . . . golfing?

Does it matter that the Harris-Walz campaign is trolling Trump on his social media platform? Yes. Trump is famously thin-skinned and easily provoked. When provoked, he makes unforced errors—a lot of them. Over the next two months, Trump will continue to remind voters why they are tired of his stale agenda of hate and division.

But . . . as we enter the final two months of the campaign it would serve us well to recall the words of Michelle Obama at the Democratic Convention:

So, no matter how good we feel tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day, this is going to be an uphill battle. So folks, we cannot be our own worst enemies. . . because the minute something goes wrong, the minute a lie takes hold, folks, we cannot start wringing our hands. We cannot get a Goldilocks complex about whether everything is just right. And we cannot indulge our anxieties about whether this country will elect someone like Kamala, instead of doing everything we can to get someone like Kamala elected.

The Trump-Vance campaign has fumbled for an attack line on Kamala Harris for weeks. They have now settled on an attack strategy: pure ugliness and hate. Expect it, ignore it, and focus on registering new voters and urging registered voters to turn out.

It will be difficult to ignore the ugliness, in part, because it will be pervasive—and the media will be complicit by treating Trump's ugly attacks as “politics as usual.”

Elon Musk has turned Twitter into a Trump campaign attack platform against Kamala Harris. Musk is personally posting outright propaganda against Harris. For example, on Monday, Musk posted a picture of Kamala Harris in communist garb with the words:

Kamala vows to be a communist dictator on day one. Can you believe she wears that outfit!?

With his 200 million followers (albeit many of them bots), Musk’s ridiculous ideas will spread like a virus through the hateful MAGA ecosphere.

The good news is that Trump and Vance are “underwater” with favorability ratings, while Kamala Harris has seen a 17-point surge in her favorability rating (to a slight net-positive).

Josh Marshall of Talking Points Memo explains that the difference in favorability ratings will help Kamala Harris withstand the ugly attacks to come:

[F]avorability is the prism through which all of us see new attacks, new news. The more positive impression we have of a person, the more we see new information about them in glass-full more than glass-empty terms; we revolve benefits of the doubt in their favor. So, it can be both predictive and protective

See Josh Marshall, Talking Points Memo, Keep an Eye on Those Favorability Numbers.

I would add to Marshall’s comments that Kamala Harris has momentum, likability, decency, and dozens of other positive attributes that will cause voters to give her the benefit of the doubt—while Trump and Vance are increasingly desperate. Just as Kamala Harris will benefit from the “positive lens” of favorability, Trump and Vance will suffer from the “negative lens” of their mean-spirited, misogynistic, judgmental style.

Here's my point: Don’t wince and cringe with every ugly attack thrown at Kamala Harris and Tim Walz over the next two months. Trust that most Americans see through those attacks for what they are—signs of desperation by Trump. We have two months to drive more voters to the polls. There is no time to worry or fret. As Michelle Obama told us at the Democratic convention, “Do something!”

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[discluded]

OTW Candidates and the Threat of Censorship in Power

Per my policy with this blog, I am creating this post as a centralized information point for the last two cycles of pro-censorship candidates running for @transformativeworks board positions. This is for us, voting members of OTW to have an centralized factual archive of these candidates, which allows us to hold OTW responsible for better screening candidates for views antithetical to the central mission of the organization.

As we know, censorship is on the rise across parts of the internet. These places include geographical territories that OTW's servers sit on. With the resignation of three sitting OTW board members, including one with a history of racist comments, the current election cycle for OTW board became an uncontested cycle that would have been dangerously close to allow an uncontested slot-in for a pro-censorship candidate. With this, I am hoping to increase the amount of transparency and responsibility OTW owes to its voting (and contributing) members.

We as voting members of OTW have the right to choose candidates that will advance the mission of the organization -- we should not, multiple years in a row -- be forced to organize around preventing a pro-censorship candidate from advancing to the Board or accept that such a candidate was could have possibility of being promoted in an uncontested election to the Board.

2022 Election - Tiffany G

Tiffany G's interview statement from her candidacy response. It appears that this text is no longer part of the transcript, but a screencap was preserved by twitter user muzhiyou on August 11 2022. Please click the link to their tweet thread for more context about AO3's banned status in China.

[ID in alt text]

Given that the text transcripts' comments reference in various parts "adult content" but this section is now removed from the chat archive and only contain references to "pedophilic content and other illegal content" the transparency of candidates' views and the the permanency of their archival by OTW are also now in question.

For further nuance and discussion about Tiffany G's candidacy, please review this [non-neutral] thread/discussion about Tiffany's position on censorship with regard to AO3 and the Chinese government.

2023 Election - Audrey R

Upon reviewing candidates for the 2023 election cycle, twitter user mozaikmage noticed that candidate Audrey R was Audrey Richards, an registered Republican who ran for election to the U.S. House to represent Missouri's 7th Congressional District in 2022. (source: Ballotpedia / archive.today version ) Her affiliation for OTW was listed on her Ballotpedia biography.

For additional [non-neutral] discussion of Audrey R's candidacy, please review twitter user fairestcat's breakdown of Audrey's responses and their contention. Fairestcat's views are not representative of my own, the creator of this post. I am merely trying to offer voter perspectives to Audrey's lack of qualification.

Upon further research, twitter user Taenith_Rain was able to unveil more about Audrey R's work with Children and Screens, an organization that advances moral panic around minors' media consumption which has an ultimate goal of censorship. Twitter user Taenith_Rain gave me express permission to archive their research and also asked not to be further engaged on this topic.

(archive.today link)

Note in her own webpage, her qualification listed as follows:

POLICY LEAD, Institute of Digital Media and Child Development - Create and lead the policy department at a nonprofit research institute dedicated to understanding the impact of digital media use on child development. Create a nonpartisan reputation on Capitol Hill as a scientific resource.

(archive.today link)

(archive.today link)

(archive.today link) Please note that the twitter user's comments do not reflect my own opinions about the Republican voters, Republican women, or Audrey R as a person.

(archive.today link)

Youtube webinar:

I do want to highlight again the dog-whistle pro-censorship description used for this webinar.

"media w/romanticized abuse and sexual content lacking partner communication may be impacting teens' attitudes and behaviors".

Final Thoughts

I am glad that twice in a row OTW has avoided having a pro-censorship candidate elected to its Board, and that the Stop OTW Racism campaign has led to the successful removal of a sitting board member who has made racist comments.

However, it is unconscionable that two years in a row OTW voting members were forced to reconcile with the fact that there was a pro-censorship candidate running, and had to do extensive research and advocacy to make sure that voters were aware of this risk.

With this archived in one place, I am hoping to hold OTW accountable to better screen candidates to advance the organization's goal of fighting censorship.

Reblogs for knowledge sharing and transparency appreciated.

[trinketmonsterr]

Paris Fashion Week 23' Debrief

From left to right, top row followed by bottom, I have selected my four favorite looks after reviewing those who showed for Paris Fashion Week 23'.

Look one: Issey Miyake Spring 2024 RTW (Look 20) by Satoshi Kondo

This is something I would wear everyday if I could. An iconic Japanese silhouette, with a long top or dress reaching a mid thigh, either paired with a wide leg trouser or straight tailored long skirt. I also adore asymmetrical sleeves and ruching around the hips, providing the body contour and definition.

Collection Notes: Aside from this look, the whole collection was so special and meaningful after the passing of Miyake just last summer. It was an homage to Miyake's iconic Spring 1998, beginning as a quite literal, almost replication of some of the gowns. 98' was unforgettable; it was as if the models were trying to escape the sheer veiled gowns they were clothed in, posing with their limbs and faces completely covered and restricted. Kondo could not have delivered a more beautiful and timely tribute.

Look two: Marni Spring 2024 RTW (Look 14) by Francesco Risso

I will always fall head over heels for a mini dress that has a fit and cut like this. In some ways, this look reminds me of early Prada, simple girly (yet chic) silhouettes and plaid motifs, but what's new is the mini v-neck, giving a sporty edge. If you look closely at the shoes, you'll see a white leather ballet flat with embossed ribbon-style bows, which obviously I want on my feet right now. This entire look. Right now. As for the rest of the collection? A total skip.

Look three: Loewe Spring 2024 RTW (Look 21) by Jonathan Anderson

The more I look at this, the more I drool over an asymmetrical tutu-skirt paired with a cherry-red plaid collared shirt. Not to mention a cashmere (I'm guessing) moss green sweater tying a fresh and exciting color palette together. The mules, I can skip. Same with the bag, I'm all good. Not to say both are not showing Loewe though, or speaking to Jonathan Anderson's very specific design language. I liked every variation of this look.

Collection notes: Super high-waisted trousers were also a sight to see, paired with the same buttoned-to-the-top collared shirts. The collection wasn't loose or relaxed in anyway, however, it also wasn't uptight, despite blazers with pockets in restraining positions and large-knit sweaters missing armholes. There were even gold belts made out of nails, going through leather shorts, and yet somehow, Anderson creates equilibrium between the slouchy and over-refined.

Look four: Prada Spring 2024 RTW (Look 37) by Miuccia Prada and Raf Simmons

Out of about five favorites, I decided on this look because I believe it best encompasses something I would choose to put on, and includes my favorite highlight from the show; fringe. It's not just fringe though. Its beaded fringe, and in other parts of the collection metallic and printed fringe, even fringe to create collars on shirts! The choice of throwing a clunky leather jacket over is just good juxtaposition, matched with black patent leather pumps. Get this look on somebody cool now.

Collection Notes: My personal highlights were specifically shoulder draping, eclectic fringe (as mentioned,) fluffy pastel layered mesh, and classic Prada embellishments such as punched-out metal holes in various sizes. There were however a few floral patterns I absolutely despised, so it turns out, perhaps, Prada can do some wrong? Or perhaps Miuccia can, because Miu Miu 2024 RTW was absolutely horrendous.

Thanks xx

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Lalo meeting reader at a night club and than fucking them and maybe he says something about their top scars

hiiiiii this is the perf prompt for me rn bc ive been hoeing around lately and i got IDEAZ

this ended up being really long (3,448 words 💀) so oopsie it's going on ao3 too :3

warning: choking, humiliation/degradation, mild transphobia, gloryhole, face slapping, facials, squirting

anatomical terms: pussy/cunt/hole, (t-)dick

The queer nightlife scene in Albuquerque left much to be desired.

There were very few gay bars located around the city, even less that were trans-friendly. Some were seedier than others, but you’d heard rave reviews via word of mouth about this one place. Generally clean, fair prices, friendly staff, but mainly that this was the place to go if you needed dick with minimal questions asked. Allegedly, the stalls in the bathroom had gloryholes cut between the partitions, and a closed stall usually meant that someone was game. It was a little dehumanizing, sure, but in all fairness the only thing you really needed from a partner was cock. You’d like a little more, but you'd take what you could get.

Unaware of what the etiquette was for a place like this, you figured it'd be suspicious to head straight for the back. So, you decided to have a few drinks at the bar. They were stronger than you expected, but maybe a little less inhibition would do you good. One drink to loosen you up turned into a few more to make your head spin. Eventually, you were sauced enough to go for it.

Your heart was racing as you entered the men's bathroom. It was bigger than you expected. For one thing, there were two long rows of stalls facing each other, leading to a separate area with sinks and vending machines. There were dim lights in each stall and above each sink and vending machine, mapping only essential landmarks in otherwise complete darkness. A few men much bigger than you were walking around. Some went from their stall to the sinks; some headed straight for the door. You kept your head down, not wanting to make eye contact and reveal yourself to a potential suitor.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for, in all honesty. You peered into every stall on the left. No holes. That must be the safe zone, for people who just needed to relieve themselves in privacy. Then, you peered into every stall on the right. Sure enough, the interior partitions each had a hole cut into them. That was the danger zone, for people who wanted to "relieve themselves" in a much different manner. You wanted danger, but not too much. You wanted to flirt with danger, not get drunk married to danger in Vegas and lose everything in your divorce with danger. Thus, you parked yourself in a stall on the end, that way you had only one side to watch.

You locked the door, hung your jacket on the hook, dropped your pants, and plopped yourself on the toilet. From there, all you had to do was wait. Wait like a sitting duck. Fitting, that's how you felt. To say your senses were heightened was an understatement. Every miniscule sound made you jump, and your heart stopped when the stall next to you closed. You could hear the stranger breathing next to you. They crouched down, probably to peer into the hole and check you out. You scurried up the back of the toilet, angling yourself away from exposure. Thankfully, the stranger took the hint and stood back up. You sighed in relief, relief that was cut short by the clinking of a belt. You could feel the tension brewing, pressure building and building, until you heard something slap against the hole in the wall. You didn’t have to look. You knew what it was.

Still, when you did turn to look, you liked what you saw. It was a fat, well-groomed, medium complexion, uncut cock, and it was already hard and leaking. You licked your lips and positioned yourself in front of it. You reached out and gave it a tentative pump, spreading the precum around with your thumb. The stranger pulled back a little, which made your breath hitch in your throat. No, c'mon, don't leave! You thought. You'd already come this far. You wasted no time taking it into your mouth. Safety be damned, a condom would've taken too much precious time, and you had none to waste.

You actually didn't mind sucking it raw. The cock certainly felt and tasted better without latex and stale lube in the way. Sweet glaze leaking from its slit, smooth and salty skin, a hint of aftershave, and just enough musk and sweat to activate your base instincts. The anonymity made more of a difference than you thought. You didn't have to worry about looking pretty, or whether or not the rest of your partner was as gorgeous as this one feature. You could just totally lose yourself, gagging, slurping, licking, softly moaning into them. All you needed to be was a wet, eager hole. You could do that. You could do that fairly well.

Your partner seemed to agree, letting out breathy sighs and grunts as you serviced them. At one point, they pushed on the wall that intercepted you two, trying to get themselves even deeper into your throat. They withdrew from the hole momentarily so they could stuff their balls through. You took the hint and ran your tongue along them, being rewarded with a deep groan. That was all the praise you needed. You figured this wouldn't be a place for small talk, or any talk for that matter. That's why it shocked you when the stranger knocked on the wall and asked,

"Sweetheart, can I come in?"

A rich, sultry voice with a slight accent caught you off guard. You tore yourself off and gasped, choking on your own spit. Drool pooled down your chin and onto your shirt as you coughed. You wondered if they could somehow hear your heartbeat. Adrenaline surged through you. What could you do? What were you supposed to do? Fight? No, they were probably bigger than you. Flight? You didn't exactly want to run, plus if you did, they could easily chase after you. The only remaining option was to freeze, but that wasn't a great choice either.

"It's okay. You don't have to." The stranger pulled his cock out of the hole and tucked it back in his pants. You let go of your breath when you heard the belt again. Okay, good, they weren't gonna force anything. Still, their next move surprised you. Two fingers snuck through the hole and tapped the partition. "I'm guessing this your first time doing this?"

"Yeah..." was all you said, but it was enough. It was enough to tell your partner that you were inexperienced, vulnerable, fresh meat.

The stranger chuckled. "Well, you're doing a great job. I really mean that." His voice was laced with more care than you'd expect to find a place like this, "And I'd like to do more, if you're willing, that is. I'd hate to not return the favor."

More? More than just sucking? More sounded like exactly what you needed right now. It also sounded like the dumbest thing you could possibly ask for. What was the plan for when he found out you didn't have a cock? You didn't have one, but maybe you didn't need one. Maybe he'd be into it. "Don't stick your dick in crazy" was a bit of street smarts you'd picked up over the past few years, but you'd never heard "Don't let crazy stick its dick in you". That was a good enough excuse.

"I mean, I'd like to. It's just... nerves. Sorry. I'm not really sure how this works."

Another laugh from the stranger, gentle, warm, and a little condescending. Fair enough, you were pretty clueless. "Oh, you sound cute. Tell you what. I'll come out and knock on your door. You let me in, and I'll show you how this works. We're gonna have some fun together, alright?"

As stupid as it probably was, it did sound fun. You stood up, pulled your pants back up, and took a deep breath, trying to sound as confident as possible. "Okay... okay, sure..." Nailed it.

Though you couldn't see it, you could hear your partner's smile in his next line. "Good boy."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

You barely had time to let that echo in your empty head before you had another sound intercepting it: a knock on the door. You fiddled with the lock, and cracked the door a tiny bit, taking your first glimpse at your partner. He was way hotter than you were expecting. Tall, dark, and handsome was not an exaggeration by any means. His more defining characteristics were a big bushy mustache and a single sliver streak in the front of his hair. Plus, his floral shirt was unbuttoned just a little more than it probably should've been, just enough to make you salivate.

He could see you through the opening you had made, and he leaned in to get a better look. When his eyes met yours, he smiled. "I was right. You are cute. Still wanna do this, pretty boy?"

Yes. Yes you did. You pushed the door open all the way, letting your partner size you up. His eyes trailed up and down your smaller, curvier form, and he stopped when he got to your spit-covered shirt.

"Oh, sweetheart, look at you! You made a mess of yourself. You were really getting into it, huh? That's adorable." He asked as he breached your enclosure and locked the door behind him. You blushed, and he quickly took note. "Aw, it's okay. Don't be shy, baby." He rested his hands on your hips and fiddled with the bottom of your shirt. "You did a really good job. I'm serious, y'know. Such a good little cocksucker."

Before you knew it was happening, he pulled your shirt off over your head. You panicked, "Wait, wait... I can explain."

Holding your shirt in his hands, your partner backed off to take in the sight of you. He was confused by your hesitation, until he saw your chest. The two thin scars across your pecs caught him by surprise. He squinted at them to get a better look in the low light.

"¿Qué chingado? (What the fuck?)" He stared for a moment until the realization hit. You could see the lightbulb go off in his head when it did. He was interested, more so than before. "Ohhh... Oh, ya veo. (Oh, I see.) You got something I don't, eh?" It wasn't really a question. He knew the answer.

You didn't expect him to know, but you were glad you didn't have to explain. "Y-Yeah..."

He hung your shirt on the hook and grabbed your hips again, pressing his body against yours. He wanted to know more. "You wanna tell me about it or you want me to see it for myself?"

His question went right over your head. All you could think about was how gorgeous he was, and how good his cock felt in your mouth. You spaced out thinking about how good it'd feel somewhere else. Luckily, you snapped out of it once you realized he'd gone quiet. "Sorry, what did you say?"

The stranger chuckled again and leaned down to brush some of your hair away from your ear, ensuring that his words made their mark. "You got an extra hole, don't you, chico?" His other hand snuck between your legs and squeezed your crotch. No bulge, just as he suspected. He snickered. "Is that why you were nervous? Don't be. I like it. Can you show me what I have to work with?" He tilted his head to kiss your neck, and rubbed his hand over your clothed pussy.

You whimpered and held onto his biceps. The stimulation he was giving you was somewhere on the border of "too much" and "no where near enough". Regardless, there were too many layers in the way. You sighed. "Yeah... Yeah, I can... I can do that, just... Just lemme..." Your voice trailed off as you nudged your partner off you and went for your own belt. You backed up against the wall, the most wiggle-room you could get in such a tight space, and dropped your pants and underwear to the floor.

Your partner wolf-whistled at the sight. "Oh, now that's a good boy. You like that?" He reached out to take hold of your neck. "You like showing off for me, huh? You like being a slut?"

"Ah... y-yes..." You whined and squirmed in his grasp. His other hand cupped your bare pussy, slipping some fingers in between your lips and tracing the length of your slit. You were already soaking wet, which only egged him on.

"Aw, how cute! Someone's excited! You do like being a slut! I figured. I mean..." He slid his fingers inside and his thumb stroked your t-dick. Before you could make a sound, he started to choke you. "Why else would you be here, huh?"

He fingered you roughly, wetness splashing against his hand, as he cut off the flow of oxygen to your brain. It allowed him to cloud your mind with desire, to take over your entire being.

He kept interrogating you. "I think I know why you're here. You came here because you needed cock, isn't that right? God didn't give you one, so now you have to go beg strangers for a taste of theirs? Is that it? Are you really that desperate?" He let go of your neck when your face started to change color. "Well, c'mon. Answer me, boy."

You stuttered, but at least you were honest. "Yes! Yes, ah, I need... I need cock... Please... Please, I want your cock, ah..." You stopped begging and your body stiffened. There was a slight problem in your approach. You made it known, "What, uh... What's your name?"

Your partner chortled, a more genuine laugh than his others had been. "Oh, te putito lindo... (Oh, you cute little whore...)" Once he composed himself, he pulled his hand away from your cunt and slid his wet fingers into your mouth. As you sucked him clean, he whispered in your ear again. "You can call me Lalo."

That got another pathetic sound out of you. When he felt that your work was sufficient, he pulled his fingers out. His hand flew to his pants, hastily pulling himself out again. He picked you up by your waist, wrapped your legs around him, and pushed you back into the stall divider. "So, what was that you said? You want what?"

You gripped the back of his shirt and begged once more. "I want your cock... I want your cock, Lalo... Please..."

"How do you want it?"

What? What the hell does that mean? Why was this guy making you solve riddles before fucking you? "W-What do you mean?" you stammered.

Lalo pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes locking with yours. You couldn't look away, let alone run away, and that's just how he liked it. "What I mean is, you want it in that special hole, yeah? You want me to fuck you like that, right? Like the little pussyboy you are?"

It was amazing how someone you had met less than 15 minutes ago could read you like a book. Not only that, but he had read you well enough to write a comprehensive book report about you and your deepest desires. You had never been so hot and bothered. You moaned desperately. "Oh my god, yes! Yes, please y- mmph!"

"Shh... shh... Cállate. Be quiet." Lalo had pressed his hand over your mouth to silence you. His voice was a dark whisper. "You gotta be quiet, okay? You don't want everyone in here to know what we're doing, do you? Or..." While he had you distracted, he used that as an opportunity to slip his cock inside you. "Maybe you do. Whore."

He started to rut his hips into you, fucking you up against the stall. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you mewled and moaned into the palm of his hand. It was good that he had thought to muzzle you, otherwise you'd probably be broadcasting yourself to the whole bar.

"That's it. There we go. I knew you'd like this." He took his hand off your mouth to slap you across the face, the shock and the sting making you squeak like a dog toy, something he found very amusing. "Haha! See? I knew it. Pussyboys like you are all the same. You're all sluts." He replaced his hand with his mouth, forcing his tongue onto yours, aiming to take you for all you were worth. He broke off to continue mocking you, though not before covering your mouth again. "That's okay, though. I like it. I like boys who know what they are. And you, my friend, are the perfect little cocksleeve. You know that, right?”

You couldn’t answer verbally, so instead, you answered physically. You nodded, and your walls contracted around him, spilling liquid pleasure with his every thrust.

Once he felt you leaking, he started laughing. “Oh, nene, ¿qué paso? (Oh, baby, what happened?) It feels too good? You’re just a hot mess, aren’t you?" His breath and his movements got more erratic, and he let out a few noises of his own. "Oh, you're perfect, chiquito. You're perfect for me. I should take you home and keep you for myself. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd like being a little sex doll for me? God, I could spend the rest of my life in this tight little hole."

That honestly didn't sound half bad. Actually, it sounded fucking amazing. For now, at least. Maybe the post-nut clarity would change your mind and make you realize that no, you shouldn't indulge a stranger who literally just said he wants to keep you as a sex doll, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It surely seemed better than sucking off randos through a wall. You couldn't believe you hit the jackpot on your first night out.

Lalo couldn't believe that he hit the jackpot, too. He had come across the perfect little plaything: a sweet, naïve little boy with a needy little pussy and an insatiable craving for cock. He didn't even know he'd been looking for you until he found you, but now, there was no chance in hell he was letting you go. He already had you right where he wanted, and he thought that if he gave you what you wanted, you'd give him everything else that he wanted. He stopped for a second to reposition himself. Apparently, the new angle was even better. When he started back up, you were practically screaming into his hand. Whatever words and wails of pleasure were completely incoherent, but Lalo knew what they meant.

"Getting close, huh?" He had asked a rhetorical question, and you nodded to confirm his suspicions. "Good boy. Let it all out."

He clamped down on your mouth and slammed into you with all the energy he had, until you finally reached your peak. You clung onto him tightly, stifled sobbing as you squirted onto his pants. He gave you a moment to breathe, but then started right back up, teasing you all the while.

"Hey! You got me all messy! Dirty boy! Oh, you're lucky you're so cute." Lalo took his hand off your mouth so he could grab your waist, though instead of using it as leverage to fuck you even harder, he pulled out and set you on the floor. You were confused by this until he said, "I gotta get you back, though. Can't let you get away with that."

One hand gripped your hair, holding your limp body upright, and the other took care of his own need. The sight in front of you reminded you of how this encounter began: a dick in your face. Up close, yet a lot more personal. Lalo grunted and growled as he stroked himself, and groaned as he came all over your face. Some had gotten in your hair, some in your mouth, but you didn't care. It made you feel desirable.

When Lalo was done, he braced himself against the side of the stall, panting harder than he had in a while. The second he had enough air to speak, he did. "Carajo, chico. (Damn, kid.) You're the best I've had in a while."

He could tell you were out of it, mouth agape, head lulling from side to side, probably dizzy and discombobulated. But, that only made you seem more precious in his eyes. He smiled, knelt down to your level, grabbed your face, and kissed some of the cum off your lips. His next line was exactly what you wanted to hear.

"You're mine now."

[zmzebra-writes]

Title: The Wrong Amagi Wedding Chapters: 2/? (start, next) Genre: Comedy Summary: After being invited to their father's second marriage, Rinne and Hiiro find themselves having to temporarily return to the village. Not wanting their friends to be alone, the rest of Crazy:B and Alkaloid join them on their journey back, but these "city folks" might not be the only ones learning something new during this visit.

In this chapter.... On the road time! What's a story without the journey and what's a road trip without Tatsumi driving? No way things could go wrong before they even hit the village, right?

The day of the trip had arrived. To Rinne’s surprise, it was suspiciously easy for both units to request time off for all members. Ibara seemed frustrated as he waved Rinne away with an already signed leave form for Crazy:B and, according to Hiiro, Eichi appeared to be holding back a chuckle or two as he signed off on Alkaloid’s leave form.

In any case, planning for the trip had gone off without a hitch. Rinne originally planned to see if he could weasel his way into renting a company car for the trip until Hiiro mentioned Tatsumi had a car he could drive them in. The church had a van which could just squeeze in eight people plus luggage. Tatsumi even offered to take care of the driving as well. 

Rinne figured since it was Tatsumi’s car, it would be fair to let Tatsumi drive while Rinne took care of navigation from the passenger’s seat. Hiiro gave him a promising review saying that Tatsumi’s driving made him fall asleep. 

‘Must be a soothing driver,’ figured Rinne. It would fit his calm demeanor.

From there, it was only a matter of fitting everyone and their luggage inside the car. Rinne warned everyone to pack lightly, and thankfully even Aira had listened to his advice because the backseat Rinne and Tatsumi set up essentially in the trunk for the youngest members was a tight squeeze. Kohaku and Aira pulled faces as they crawled into the back with only minimal complaints. 

As Hiiro crawled in behind them, Rinne handed Kohaku a messenger bag. “I trust you to guard this with your life, Kohaku.”

Kohaku opened the bag and looked inside. Various snacks and drinks. “Huh?”

“Distribute these wisely,” said Rinne with the utmost seriousness before pushing the middle row of seats back into the upright position. 

The next row was a bit more tricky for personality reasons. No matter how Rinne puzzled over how to arrange the remaining three, someone would always be a little upset. Eventually, Rinne just gave up, and chose the option with the least casualties. 

HiMERU would sit behind the passenger seat (to minimize the amount of Kazehaya in his sight line and risk him going for the kill and taking out the driver). Mayoi would take the remaining window seat so as to minimize his discomfort with human contact. Lastly, Niki would take the middle seat, and hopefully his bony ass wouldn’t mind having to sit on the hump seat.

With everyone in their place, Rinne collapsed into the passenger’s seat. He sighed. It was hard having to be the responsible one for once, but this entire visit to the village was stressful enough that even the potential in-flight entertainment from purposefully arranging his unit mates into the worst possible seating arrangements didn’t excite him. 

Best was to just hope for a quiet few hours. More time to plan meeting his father face to face for the first time in years. Tatsumi should be fine navigating for the first half, and then Rinne would take over with specific navigation as they got closer to the checkpoint.

‘I’ll just lean back and relax until then,’ thought Rinne as he watched Tatsumi buckle into the driver’s seat. 

“Don’t forget seatbelts everyone!” called back Tatsumi as he flicked through his keys.

“Wait,” said Aira as both him and Mayoi became more panicked, “Tattsun is the driver?!”

“Hm? What’s wrong with Tatsumi driving, Love-han?” asked Kohaku, “It’s his car isn’t it?”

Rinne picked up on the chatter in the backseat and looked over. 

Tatsumi tapped his shoulder, redirecting Rinne’s attention. “Ah, Rinne? You need to buckle up before I start the car.”

“Sure, sure,” waved off Rinne as he buckled in. Might as well follow the rules of the careful preacher. “Safety first, right?”

Tatsumi smiled. “Safety first.”

Tatsumi turned the key and began backing out of the parking spot. 

“You don’t understand, Kohakucchi,” frantically said Aira as Mayoi began to cry, “Tatsumi is a lawless driver and no one is safe if he’s behind the wheel.”

“Huh? What do you mean—”

“Alright, everyone!” called out Tatsumi as he switched the car from reverse to drive, “Let’s get moving!”

“Noooooo!”

Rinne quickly found himself thankful Tatsumi insisted on him wearing his seatbelt since that was the only mercy Tatsumi had for them in this vehicle. Screams echoed in the car from the back seats. 

“Tatsumi!” called out Rinne.

“Hmm? Yes, Rinne?” responded Tatsumi as he sped up to make a yellow light across an intersection.

“Slow down! We are going to get pulled over!” In truth, the police were the least of Rinne’s worries. The law was more of an afternote when one’s life was flashing before their eyes.

“Don’t worry, Rinne,” said Tatsumi as he turned his head to look at Rinne. 

“Eyes on the road!” cried out Rinne in a panic as they ran a stop sign.

Tatsumi looked forward again in time to make a sharp turn down a narrow road. “I’m very familiar with all the routes in the surrounding area, and I know exactly where the cop cars hide. We won’t get caught while I’m here.”

“If we survive…” said Rinne miserably under his breath.

♠♡♢♣🐝♣♢♡♠

Eventually they reached a small town. Rinne had taken over driving when they stopped for gas with the claim that his navigational knowledge would make him the better driver in the final half. 

When Rinne moved to question his brother about what the hell was up with that misleading review, he found Hiiro passed out in the backseat. Whiplash, Aira had called it.

In any case, the only remaining danger was HiMERU reaching forward and strangling Tatsumi who sat in the passenger seat enjoying the sights. Which, in Rinne’s opinion, would be well deserved for shaving off the life spans of everyone in the car. Even Niki lost his appetite briefly on the ride.

Rinne sighed in relief as the sign for a small inn came into sight. They made it before a murder took place. Rinne parked the car in the sparse parking lot and turned around in his seat.

“Alright survivors! I hope you got a nice good rest because it's time to lace up your boots and get walking.”

Groans that sounded suspiciously like Aira came from the back seat. “Like I said in the group chat, our village is deep in the woods so we can’t take the car much farther. We will have to hike the rest of the way so file out, stretch, and grab your bags while I go check in with the innkeeper.”

Rinne walked into a small house shaped building. A middle aged woman with mid-length brown hair pushed back with a wide dark blue headband sat at a high table. “Hi! Checking in?” she asked.

“Yep! There should be a reservation under the name ‘Amagi’,” said Rinne as he glanced around the cozy room. It felt familiar…

“Amagi…? Oh right yes here you are,” she said after looking down at her binder full of spreadsheets, “Will you be needing the key to your room?”

Rinne gave a friendly grin. “Ahaha, thanks for the offer, but I’m good. My friends and I just needed a place to park our car before we go camping in the nearby woods.”

The woman looked Rinne up and down again. “... Are you familiar with these woods, sir?”

“... You could say that.”

“When do you plan to check out?” asked the woman with a serious look, “It’s good to let other people know when you plan to return before going on a hike.”

“It shouldn’t take longer than a week.” Rinne would see to that.

Her face relaxed into a comforting smile as she closed the binder. “I wish you luck on your trip, sir. Stay safe.”

‘I hope we stay safe, too,’ thought Rinne.

“Thank you, ma’am for letting us park here at a discount to your usual rate~,” said Rinne with a playful tone. Best to throw on the charm to stay on the innkeeper’s good side.

The woman chuckled. “It’s my pleasure. Not many people come to visit here, but it’s peaceful.”

“Have a nice day!” he called out as he left.

“You too!”

The door clicked behind him as Rinne returned to the car. Tatsumi appeared to have taken over the role of the leader as he distributed everyone’s bags and helped organize everyone.

‘That makes things simpler,’ thought Rinne. 

“Everyone ready to go? We have a long, mountainous hike ahead of us,” said Rinne as he walked over to get his bag.

Aira pulled a face at the idea of an exhausting, treacherous hike, but luckily, Hiiro noticed his good friend’s distress and had words of comfort. 

“Don’t worry Aira! My brother is just exaggerating. Only the main path goes through sheer cliff sides. The path I took uses nearby trees to avoid them!”

Aira became paler. “... Trees?”

Kohaku quickly swooped in for damage control. “Don’t worry, Love-han! I’m an expert at climbing trees and can carry you up and down the branches.”

Hiiro felt like his position as his unit’s defender was being threatened. “I can carry you too, Aira! I’ve climbed trees since I was a kid.”

“So have I!”

Rinne laughed at the sight. It was worth pulling their legs a bit. “Nah, no trees will need to be climbed… unless you want to Aira~.”

Aira frantically shook his head.

“I know these woods like the back of my hand,” continued Rinne, “Things might have changed while I was gone, but the route we’re taking should be relatively easy for you city folk.”

Rinne didn’t want to risk a medical emergency during what was already going to be a terrible week. He had already privately talked to Tatsumi before the trip to gauge if he would need any special treatment due to his bad leg. 

‘No need to worsen his condition,’ Rinne figured. To his surprise, Tatsumi brushed off most of his concerns, claiming his foot had already healed months ago. Rinne hoped for everyone’s sake, he was right. First aid was limited in the village.

The mouth of the path Rinne planned to take was close to the inn. From here on, it should be smooth sailing. Maybe they’d even run into an old friend when they broke for lunch.

[l0tanna]

Vancouver Fashion Week: Fall/Winter 2024 edition

Lotanna’s review.

“Oftentimes people think of producing fashion shows as a super glamorous job. While there is definitely some glamour to it, in the end, when we are in the middle of the show, the majority of our job is hard work with real-world deadlines”- Paul Bennett IV, Producer

Respectful Discourse: I encourage respectful discussion and welcome differing opinions. Fashion is a dynamic and evolving art form, and dialogue fosters growth and understanding within the industry.

Notes:

With my quality experience in event production, I looked forward to this year's starter edition of the Vancouver Fashion Week. I stepped in with a heavy motion, wanting to learn and tap into the doings of staff and volunteers; the Vancouver Fashion Week (VFW) is very well known in the Vancouver fashion scene, from the designers to the weathering event space and the relentless media coverage, they are in too deep in the system. Although I only attended the first and last day this season, I observed so much from both shows. I’ll clearly state what I thoroughly observed off the logistic affairs and mention the designers that caught my eye during the days I attended in the week. Enjoy the read;

Logistics & Event Production

My main fascination revolved around the logistics and event production of the VFW. The event production team did [quite] the job ensuring reasonable quality control. To organize a week-long fashion show involving multiple designers, models, and fashion enthusiasts requires a tremendous amount of effort, which has been consistently carried out for 23 years. Even though I only attended two days of the fashion week, I noticed a couple cues and nuances from the production team.

Production teams are the underdogs of any event. They are the ones that do the nitty gritty and get their hands dirty to make an event glamour “glam.” with alignment and organization in a team, perfection can be accomplished. As I highlight the production team in the fashion week in this article, I am focusing on the seat assignment managers, event ushers, and guest service staff. I am also shedding a little light on the volunteering staff as well.

Now, what did Lotanna get off the production team during the VFW Fall/Winter 2024 edition?

Real Talk:

I planned to attend only this fashion week's first and last days. My main objective was to observe the attendees' engagement and event flow of the production team on these days. During my attendance, I closely observed the staff and volunteers diligently performing their assigned tasks..

Day one was packed! It made me realize that crowd control is everything. With the number of people that came to the show, attendee management and crowd control were vital.

As I stood watching the first show, I observed the row coordinator deftly orchestrating the flow of movement as people navigated the space; nonsense was not an option! During the break between shows, my guy Blinkzz and I scanned the area for seats. Entry to the fashion week doesn't guarantee you a chair unless reserved or through other levels of entry. Luckily for us, we came across this savvy event coordinator named Jevon. He used a tactic to seat us under the reserved seats (he is the goat for that). This experience told me how the coordinators make time to individually elevate the attendee experience on top of everything. It demonstrates the importance of a positive work ethic, a friendly demeanour, and the value of hospitality within the event staff.

One thing that caught my attention was the presence of young and creative volunteers in the event production team. Their unique perspective gave the VFW a fresh and modern touch. My friends Stephen Ng’ang’a and Richard Goodluck were volunteers for the event's media crew, allowing them to build their craft, learn more, and meet other creative minds in their industry. Vancouver Fashion Week constantly grows the next gen of designers, creators, and models in the Vancouver fashion event scene.

The production of a fashion event is serious work, from time management to event control. Every step is important.

Look out for the closing.

The Designers

I would be delighted to share with you my thoughts on the designers who particularly impressed and intrigued me with their designs and runway shows.

Day 1

SOLIT (JAPAN)

This all-inclusive Japanese fashion brand started the show with a killer performance—yes, a performance. Their runway pattern showcased their beautiful fall/winter designs with a choreography that resembled a movie. They expressed their collection with a show that beautifully flaunted it while telling a story that highlighted love, diverse experiences, and the global environment. I am all for showing how fashion values society. They did a great job.

HAZIHAUS

Hazihaus grabbed my attention with its designs; its fall/winter "Inner Child Ambrosia" screamed its monochromatic palette of maturity. I found the collection to be very generic. Although I have seen some similar designs online and in some knitted attire brands, this is the first time I have seen them in fashion week. The knitting techniques and fabric manipulations seem familiar, but I adore the colour scheme and runway experience. I am glad that VFW acknowledges luxury streetwear brands. Good show.

Day 6

QZ SHEN (CHINA)

I couldn't help but swivel from side to side in awe as I took in this innovative menswear label! The runway setting was outstanding—from the lighting and model strides to the designs! I am interested in the touch of minimalism in the designs. Nowadays, most people, especially [here] in Vancouver, yearn for that minimalistic luxury. QZ SHEN delightfully expressed a free and cozy lifestyle with a line that ventures into camping activities and outdoor sports. I see them in their innovative era and hope to hear about them everywhere soon.

EDUARDO RAMOS

This founder-named label is one that I was low-key looking forward to. I remember seeing them in the spring/summer 2024 show last year. Their runway performances always emotionally impact the audience, whether through the designs, performances, or model strides. The founder always takes the leap of confidence to express the collection's story. Without confidence, you can't express. As a designer, you have to take that leap to make something that is different and goes against the grain. Eduardo Ramos always steals the show. I am a fan.

Honourable Mention:

Smouldy

Even though I was not present for their show, the designs flew to my phone. Smouldy's Planet Claire collection is fantastic. The designers' ultramodern pieces and commitment to reducing fabric waste inspire me. Sustainable impact is something all designers and fashion labels should practice. Well done, Smouldy.

Closing

Final Review

The last day of fashion week was as packed as the first, if not more. There was no space! Thankfully, my friend Akin and I strategically came at the right time to get good seats. The event coordinators were up and about, organizing more seats and telling people where not to sit. It was definitely not as smooth as the first day. I recall a seating assignment officer confidently informing a guest that their ticket did not correspond to their assigned seat. Her authoritative voice exhibited signs of strain due to demanding circumstances.

In just six days, the remarkable contributions of approximately 50 designers, alongside the dedicated production team, infused every corner of the event with creativity and innovation.

Let's take a moment to revisit the quote I mentioned earlier. It is important that we pay close attention to this particular part. "in the end, when we are in the middle of the show, the majority of our job is hard work with real-world deadlines"

Seeing the effort put into producing this event inspires me; the team and the volunteers are the backbones of this show! Production teams are the unsung heroes of event production. Amidst all the glitz and glamour, these underdogs are partaking in a different show—life. Transitioning between each point of the schedule, directing the designers and the runway, and controlling attendees must be handled with skills and routines to perform accurately. The Vancouver Fashion Week production team had a successful week for Fall/Winter 2024.

It is always important to appreciate the work done behind the scenes in Fashion Events. With heartfelt gratitude, I seize this moment to extend formal appreciation and recognition to the exceptional event production team of My Sophomore Event, the Oversabi edition of STACKED FASHION CONVENTION;

Yakndara Udoimeh - Fashion Event Producer

Haleemah Daramola - Stylist & Runway Head

Halimat Ahmaed Adagiri - Brand & Event Coordinator

Ayanfe Oladipo - Event Coordinator

Jason Akan "Jupefruit" Udoimoeh - Videographer

LSD Dave - Photographer/ Videographer

To every production team member, whether mentioned or not, your unwavering dedication during any event support is invaluable. Your passion and commitment brought the vision to life, creating unforgettable moments and leaving an indelible mark on all who attended. Thank you for your invaluable contributions and unwavering commitment to excellence.

And to you, the readers, thank you for taking the time to delve into my review. Your interest and engagement are greatly appreciated.

Signing out.

Lotanna Ifeatu Louis Uzomah.

[colourstreakgryffin]

For @ilikebullyinggiyu , I present you! With his cute little Switch too!

Bartender! Tomioka Giyuu

Your best friend purred in delight as she pushed open the extravagant door with you following close by. That said door lead into a colourful lit bar, decorated by clean wooden cupboards openly displaying all kinds of wines and alcohols placed in rows, a smooth polished marble service bar, a flashing dancefloor on the side and many flat wooden tables with comfortable plush chairs where men, women, couples and teenagers danced the night away, drank and laugh loudly

This was the new bar you’ve been practically begging your best friend to take you to, since the very first day it opened. You heard lots of positive reviews about the workers and the drinks, with how tired and stressed you are from your everyday job, you wanted to take a break and have fun at a good place like this new bar. After lots and lots of persuasion and promises, she helped dress you up in a sleek sexy dress and drove you over to it

Your friend smiled at the sights before her, hopping off to the dancefloor without a word but a signalling gesture of her two top fingers, whilst you decided to walk over to the bar table, taking the first pedal-seat you are met with to see nothing but the back of, who you assumed to be, the bartender of the bar

Interested, you shuffled forward a bit and rested your arms up to get a bit closer. The bartender eventually turned around, after maybe seconds, with a clean champagne glass in one hand and a rag in the other. It seemed like he was cleaning the glasses whilst waiting to serve somebody

The bartender was rather attractive, you needed to say to yourself: deep sapphire blue eyes, midnight black hair tied in a high ponytail with almost jagged endings, a fit built body and a cute yet simple work uniform that highlighted his majestic eyes well. His expression was bored and gloomy but the moment he met your eyes, he seemed to have abandoned those and grew more interested. Placing the now clean glass into the slot besides a ton of matching others, he stood straight and breathed to steady his nerves

“Welcome, My name is Tomioka Giyuu. I will be your bartender, what would you like?” Giyuu chirped as he placed a laminate-sheeted paper menu in front of you, his voice was rather smooth and deep with a hint of awkwardness. That awkwardness was overshadowed by his natural good looks and sudden boost of confidence that helped him feel easier around you. You weren’t his first customer since he begun working at this establishment but you were the first one he felt a strange sense of comfort with

You gently picked up the menu and skimmed over the options whilst Giyuu skimmed up and down at you whilst your attention is diverted from you. You were beyond attractive and he felt the need to tell you that, incase you didn’t know. Your cute glittery lipstick made your lips pop, your gentle eyeshadow highlighted your eyes, your clean skin looked so touchable. Giyuu flinched slightly when he noticed your eyes rise up to look at him from the parchment as your light smile didn’t fade

Out of the blue, Giyuu chimed in a accidental interruption before you could speak to give a order for a drink you liked the look of. What he said made your face flame and your grip on the menu flutter for a split second as his dark eyes kept locked on you and your face, trying to avoid looking at the semi-revealing party dress your friend bought specially for you. “You look marvellous” If he were to try flirt with anybody else, Giyuu would have shrivelled and backed off into the corner to recover but with you, he felt weirdly able to say what was on his mind

You giggled slightly, making Giyuu chuckle in response with you. He was quite nervous serving such a pretty girl but he did pretty well at keeping it secret, he seemed compose, chill and complimentary to you. “May I have one Tequila Sunrise, please?” Giyuu nodded, fishing out the closest tall cocktail glass and smoothly swept up the tequila bottle, the orange juice bottle and the grenadine syrup bottle to sit besides each other. Getting to work, he poured all three liquids in equally whilst his sapphire-coloured eyes glimmered with a sense of desire, making your knees feel a bit weak

Your beloved best friend suddenly hopped into the scene after it was a few seconds of silence. You watching Giyuu prepare your order and Giyuu preparing the drink whilst flashing those dangerous blues at you. She bounced up and landed rear-first on the nearby cushioned stool to yours as she tilted her head at your distracted form, your rosy blush whilst turning to see the bartender you were gawking lovestruck at for herself. He wasn’t really much she suspected for a bar this high quality but she can recognise your admiration for him from a mile away so she decided to ignore that

Giyuu ducked down behind the counter, once he lidded the bottles in such flowing movements like he is a running river, plucking out a whole slice of orange, a toothpick and a single cherry. Puncturing the orange by the flesh on the glass’s rim, skewing the cherry on the toothpick then placing it into the orange’s up-facing skin as he gently swirled the unmixed drink, making the orange-to-yellow colour sparkle

Carefully sliding it to sit in front of you, his own lovestruck glare never faltered as he seemed to have ignored your dear best friend’s presence. Leaning back, he returned to work mode and spoke again, that voice of his did stuff to you, you swore. “Would you like anything else, ma’am?” You smirked at Giyuu teasingly and pointed to your neglected friend, raising the filled glass to your plump lips so you could taste the cocktail

He openly ‘oh-ed’ and shuffled to his right to lean down, asking the same question he did before to your friend as you took gulps away at the delicious concoction. You know you could taste the sugary pings of his love sprinkled through the fruitiness as your friend bombarded him with many orders after seconds of checking the menu when he handed it to her. Rolling his eyes, he quickly plucked out exactly five glasses of different heights, and as he crossed you again to pick out the respective ingredients

Flashed you the naughtiest glare you’ve seen from him this whole hour. Full of excitement and neediness whilst he stride past you to continue serving your friend, who was now cheering outloud like she was drunk, and thanking you mindlessly for convincing her to come to this paradise on Earth. Halfway done with your delicious order, you just watched Giyuu work. His muscly biceps flexed for you anytime he lifted something, his chiselled jaw screamed out for you to stare at him

And for sure, you did the entire night until your friend had to drag you out. Best night ever, as you not only got have so many amazing drinks…

You got the number of and a date with a really hot guy named Giyuu

[paradox-n-bedrock]

Hey! I saw throughout some of your tags that you got to see both Macbeth and The Enfield Haunting! (to which I'm insanely jealous, please hand over your memories to me at your earliest convenience!) What did you think of them??

Oh hi!!

The Enfield Haunting was enjoyable. Reviews for it have been overly harsh, for the most part, and I think part of that might be the genre bias horror often faces. The dialogue is clunky, particularly in the beginning, but I can say it's a fun show if you're a Conjuring, Enfield Poltergeist, or general haunted history fan. It presents the supernatural influence vs troubled children aspect in a balanced way, as is necessary for this plot. It also builds tension rather effectively once it gets going, while letting Catherine punctuate it with moments of lightness and her usual impeccable timing. There are some really good parts where a theme seemed to come together of this overwhelmed woman dealing with a rotating cycle of overbearing men (invasive investigators, infatuated neighbor, disrespectful ex-husband, and the poltergeist, of course) making nuisances of themselves in her home while she's just trying to push through each day without losing herself or her children to their collective unhappiness. If the theme had carried through more cohesively, it would have been a strong play. Unfortunately, I was left yearning for a bit more of that story, as it gets messy and lost maybe two thirds of the way though when the focus shifts to the investigator. But mainly, Catherine is so, so talented. She carries the whole thing on her back, with some help from the young actress who plays a very creepy Janet. It's hard to take your eyes off of her as Peggy, even when she's harried and anxious or reacting in furious silence to the action happening on the other side of the stage. She just... draws your gaze. And when she steels her spine to stand up for her family and her space, she's positively luminous. Plus there's an unexpected delight in a couple of scenes where Catherine sings Only Wanna Be With You--very sweetly, just a bar or two--and my heart felt like it was going to fucking burst. Hello, her voice... I need her to do another musical, preferably one we get a soundtrack to.

And she's so kind at the stage door. It was a two show day and she had a con the next morning but she still took the time to speak to every single person that was waiting there.

__

Macbeth, I wasn't carrying even the slightest hope of seeing but then I was able to get a standing ticket in my cart while on the flight there (though I had to let it go) and realized my years of stalking concert presales were about to come in handy. Ironically, my partner was the one who did snag the tickets two days later. I... actually ended up with a first row seat, though she was in the standing section. But that's just me rambling about the process because I still can't believe it worked out the way it did.

I'm not even sure what to say about the show itself. The whole cast is phenomenal. The production is conceptually very cool. The audio tricks they play with the witches--via a headset for each audience member and the eerie sense of movement and foreboding conveyed by bilateral audio--plus the starkness of the empty white stage and simple dark costuming just work. The contrast of the blood when David is centerstage, distressed and panting as he washes it away, feels poignant rather than pretentious. He's captivating the whole way through, but especially then, when he temporarily strips away the ambition along with his stained clothes to reveal the broken and guilty thing underneath. There's nothing like how DT delivers Shakespeare--the meaning flows out of him as naturally as the words themselves and it's incredibly approachable without losing any of its gravitas. The dynamic between the leads is atypical in a really lovely way. David's Macbeth and Cush's Lady Macbeth come across more like codependent partners and ruthless accomplices than a greedy but hesitant royal and his calculating wife egging him on. He looks to her for support rather than a push to kill Duncan, and the adoration between them is palpable, even as they each deteriorate in their own ways. I walked out of this show feeling so deeply affected, it was like a religious experience.

(Macbeth also feels very gender, which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who's a fan of DT's Benedict, though this is obviously in a very different way. As does Malcolm, played by Ros Watt--who's non-binary--and Ross, played by Moyo Akandé. I adore the whole cast, honestly.)

[sapphsorrows]

“Closeted” bookish radfem-adjacent waayyy too into the YA booktwitters side and at one side I do respect Xiran Jay Zhao as like she does call some shit out that needs to be. Like the review bullshit she should be angry about.

But she is setting herself up for failure this way and it will bitr back. Like I have seen this mental superiority call out persona before. There was another “nonbinary” author Rin Chupeco who made a reputation of not being scared and calling out and being Woke, who than got “cancelled” for a take about use of slurs in historical books. Like the thing is everyone has one controversial opinion or did one shitty thing and when that comes out the payback will be bigger than when you… ironically what they say JK Rowing should do… shut up. Especially if you are so loud i wonder what you are overcompensating for and what you have in your own closet like all these peoples are probably the behind your back bullies they call other people out for. I think she did get close to being “cancelled” once as people got weirded out how she talked about her main poly ship. Like her book is YA, older-YA i think the main character are like 19 so technically adult but the border of it and she kept making if I don’t confuse her for someone else sexual jokes/comments about her main character and their poly relationship while they are barely adult and in the YA space which freaked people out. But i might confuse her for someone else and it led to nothing but i have it vaguely into my mind.

Also she is WAY TOO DEEP into gender brainrot like she is nonbinary with a statement “look everyone can be nonbinary if i could be a wizard with a beard i would but i am Not don’t invalidate” as she is like… 100% a woman to everyone who hasn’t heard her say she is nonbinary. I haven’t read her book yet but i’ve seen a passages going around from one of her books in which she is like “oh gender feelings” and it’s a excerpt of if i remember the mc wanting to rip of her breast as that’s the reason she is discriminated in the society she lives in and i’m just like “girlie that’s just sexism… you are describing an opressed persons reaction to oppression not magic gender feelings”.

And her book too is about sexism. I got an arc of it and I remember that she used the word SEX based opression in there to describe the foodbinding she refers to in the novel… not sure that made it to the final edition. But the fact that’s featured already. Also i need to still read it but i’ve heard her first book for being feminist, has barely any woman nevermind positive woman other than the mc. Like they just aren’t there or otherwise “submissive”. She has tweeted that book two has side characters lesbian and is going to go deeper into class solidarity and that it was on purpose the MC thought about woman that way as a deliberate character flaw but that we will see.

As last one beef i do have with her that she once tweeted about a “girls in the turning competitive world are using puberty blockers THAT IS THE ISSUE RADFEMS SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON AND A CRIME NOT POOR TRANS KID USING THEM” (turning like with trampolines if i have translated it wrong) while I’m just like… that’s such gender brainrot for me. As according to your logic teenagers can decide if they want puberty. While it’s a scandal and probably pressured by the coaches… according to Gender Logic this falls under body autonomy right? Maybe these teens ALSO have very intense feelings that they want to not age who are you to judge that their feelings are from pressure but no that is the wrong way to do it and dangerous compared to the pure totally-not-affected-by society trans kid feelings. Like it felt like such a double standard the fact that they could feel it was wrong in one situation but not the other was baffling.

.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Ian Rowe

Published: Sep 14, 2023

Imagine you are twelve years old and your public-school teacher asks you and your seventh-grade classmates to stand side by side in a line. The instructor lists a series of personal attributes and says that you must take an action based on your alignment with a particular attribute, to demonstrate either your privilege or your disenfranchisement:

“If you are white, take two steps forward. If you’re a person of color with dark skin, take two steps back. If you’re black, take two steps back.”

This exercise, part of what is called a Colorism Privilege Walk, actually occurred at public schools in Evanston, Ill., and at many other schools across the country. According to the lesson plan, the goal was for white students to “learn more about white privilege, internalized dominance, microaggressions and how to act as an ally for students of color.” In other words, the point was to reveal the real sources of a person’s privilege: the unearned benefit of being white over the intrinsic victimhood of being nonwhite.

Because of these student Privilege Walks, and since the district had also conducted professional-development sessions that divided teachers by race, an Evanston teacher and the Southeastern Legal Foundation filed a lawsuit accusing Evanston School District 65 of violating the 14th Amendment’s equal-protection clause and Title VI’s prohibition on discrimination at federally funded educational institutions.

In all likelihood, these racially divisive practices in Evanston will be found legally impermissible — especially given the Supreme Court’s decision deeming race-based affirmative action unconstitutional in college admissions. Yet across a country now transfixed by the pursuit of equity, there is an obsession with determining what factors drive economic inequality and whether a person is inherently privileged or inherently oppressed based on a single characteristic, most notably race.

Against this backdrop, enter economist Melissa Kearney, who has done America a great service by publishing The Two-Parent Privilege. Kearney unequivocally states: “Marriage is the most reliable institution for delivering a high level of resources and long-term stability to children. There is simply not currently a robust, widespread alternative to marriage in US society.” In terms of benefits to children, not all family configurations are the same. Throughout the book, Kearney posits the necessary caveat that no person should remain in an unhealthy or violent marriage, but she makes plain the case that a married, two-parent household is generally superior to alternative arrangements such as cohabitation and single parenthood.

Rather than resort to making a moral or religious argument for marriage, Kearney, an MIT-trained economist, is determined to “bring the social science evidence on family structure from the obscurity of academic journals into the public conversation.”

Kearney simply sticks to the facts and makes an overwhelming data-based case that marriage and stable two-parent families matter monumentally to the life prospects of children — far more than the usually invoked suspects of race and gender. According to Kearney, in 2019, “77% of white children and 88% of Asian children lived with married parents. The share among Hispanic children was 62%. Only 38% of black children live with married parents — a historically low share that reflects a downward trend over four decades.” With such huge differences in family structure by race, how can one not fairly conclude that family-structure disparity is the greatest driving force behind racial disparities in education, crime, and virtually every area of concern for kids growing into young adulthood?

Indeed, Kearney surgically lays out the new dividing line in America’s quest for upward mobility:

There has been a massive widening of the family gap, such that a two-parent family has become yet another advantage in life enjoyed disproportionately by the college-educated class. The decline in the two-parent family among parents without a four-year college degree is a demographic trend that should concern anyone who cares about the well-being of children and about widespread economic opportunity, inequality, and social mobility in America.

One can only hope that during this election season presidential contenders emphasize how crucial healthy marriages and two-parent households are as the foundation for achieving virtually every social or economic policy objective. They would be wise to follow several of the policy recommendations in Kearney’s book, including, most notably, improving the economic position of non-college-educated men so that they are more reliable marriage partners and fathers. But Kearney recognizes that policy alone will not solve the problem. She strongly argues for a cultural shift that fosters a norm of two-parent homes, in part by simply being open and “honest about the benefits that a two-parent family home confers” on children.

In reviewing Kearney’s prescription, my only wish is that she had spent more time in two areas: (1) advocating that marriage and family structure become a standard data category through which child outcomes are analyzed, especially in education; and (2) identifying strategies to engage the rising generation to think differently about their decisions when it comes to the timing of their own family formation.

In regard to the former, the National Assessment for Educational Progress (a.k.a. the Nation’s Report Card) reports reams of educational data disaggregated by race, gender, geography, and other usual-suspect categories. But family structure is not one of them, despite the paramount role that marriage plays in influencing achievement gaps.

Including family structure could create opportunities to implement different types of interventions that could improve life outcomes for the next generation. For example, at Vertex Partnership Academies, the virtues-based high school I launched in the Bronx in 2022, in a class called Pathways to Power we teach the data associated with the “success sequence.” This is research that shows that the vast majority of young adults who graduate from high school, get full-time jobs, and marry before having children reach the middle class by their early 30s. Young people deserve to know this information, especially when they live in environments where most neighboring families have not followed that sequence.

* * *

In May 2001, writing for National Journal, Jonathan Rauch noted that, “according to Census Bureau data, a two-parent black household is more likely to be poor than is a two-parent white household, but both are far less likely to be poor than is a mother-only household of either race. In other words, if you are a baby about to be born, your best odds are to choose married black parents over unmarried white ones.”

Rauch was highlighting then what Kearney so effectively illustrates now, that in economic terms a parent’s marital status has displaced race and class as a primary driver of child poverty and upward mobility.

And perhaps this message is finally getting through. For evidence, look no further than a four-minute video titled “If someone doesn’t understand privilege, show them this.” Across Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and several media platforms, it has been viewed more than a staggering 125 million times. It captures another Privilege Walk, but in this case the personal attributes being presented are markedly different from those posed in Evanston.

The first two directives are: “Take two steps forward if both of your parents are still married. Take two steps forward if you grew up with a father figure in the home.”

In Kearney’s final chapter, she warns that “if millions of American children miss out on the benefits that come from a two-parent home and if the family gap continues to widen” then “children will suffer, inequality will continue to widen, and social mobility will erode.” It does not have to be this way. If we are brutally honest in accepting Kearney’s analysis of what truly privileges children, we know what the next steps forward should be.

[ Via: https://archive.md/F4YE8 ]

--

[ Source: Wikipedia ]

[ Source: Mother Jones ]

==

Stop blaming things on "systemic" -isms. There are often known or contributing factors at play, and refusing to acknowledge or address them is dishonest, not virtuous. It identifies nothing, solves nothing, and only serves to make people feel powerless, who are not actually powerless. Although, perhaps that's the point.

Where two-parent households are not possible, it should always default to joint/shared custody, rather than sole custody, with sole only as a last resort when unavoidable.

Joint custody should be the rule, not the exception

Children Likely to Be Better Adjusted in Joint vs Sole Custody Arrangements in Most Cases, According to Review of Research

The Consequences of Fatherlessness

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United 1-0 Fulham

A late Zirkzee finish in front of the Stretford End gives United an opening three points against a tough Fulham side.

I had written a lovely, long review about the game. Then my postcode had two powercuts and my motivation took a beating. We go again.

United looked a lot better than last season. We lack that cutting edge at present, but you can hone a team with time. United have an injured Hojlund and a slightly unfit Zirkzee. Playing a false 9 for most of the game saw United miss chance after chance without a focal point. Future games will be better - with or without the striker options.

The biggest positive was United at the back: Mazraoui looks GOOD. Like, Dalot should be worried about his spot good AND with only a few days to train with the squad and attempt to gel.

The upside is LB is fucked with Shaw/Malacia, so Dalot as an inverted playmaker LB could work... but I don't like him there as much as RB. Still, solid from him today. Great from Martinez, Maguire and Maz.

United as a whole were better defensively too; pressing was as a team unit, ala Klopp's Liverpool last season. The effort didn't feel wasted or disjointed. Fulham managed just 10 shots, and only 2 on target - figures we could only DREAM of last season.

That said, Fulham weren't shoddy either. Smith Rowe seems to have settled in immediately, Muniz played the target man role well, and Antonee Robinson looked really nice at LB. Potential summer '25 signing levels of nice (though he does turn 28 next August).

There are three issues remaining for me at present:

Casemiro lacks positional discipline to be a 6. We need Ugarte or similar.

Rashford lacks confidence. He should have been greedy and finished that chance at the end, not offload it to Garnacho. It wasn't selfless, it was scared.

We're way better with actual strikers than doing the false 9 schtick.

That said, given the wonky season last year, this was markedly better. Non-United fans were calling it boring, but it's not an easy game agaisnt Marco Silva's sides. He's a good coach, drills teams well, and Fulham will be firmly mid-table this year, if not maybe higher. Rashford with confidence finishes that late chance. That's 2-0. Bruno and Casemiro each came close, there's 3 or 4 nil. Maybe with confidence Rashford forces something else to happen, opens a gap for other players... these things matter.

A winning start to the season is a good start, and it quietens the doubters. We have to of course keep winning and keep performing, but form and fitness both come with time, and if today's performance is anything to go by we're only a few little improvements off being a genuine force and back to Top 4 levels.

Shoutout to Mazraoui, Maguire, Licha, and Bruno today. Four big shifts that kept United in control of the match. Keep it up.

To finish, enjoy this little post-match interview from Lissandro (ft. Jamie 'He's too small' Carragher)🔥