#But I refuse to pay for a streaming service that gives me ads even if I rarely use it.

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I Care A Lot, Malcolm & Marie, Capone, The Life Ahead and the News of the World: Everything I watched in February.

Newsflash ! The cinemas still aren’t open and I’m starting to lose hope in them ever opening. Despite the UK government drawing a step by step guide into lifting the UK out of lockdown (like its flat pack furniture and not a critical pandemic) with cinemas due to open in April, I wouldn’t hold my breath seeing as our own human biology and its resistance is the actual measure of when it is safe to go out and about, not what our government says. So until everyone is vaccinated and has sustained the first few months of vaccination symptom free, I’m having to sift through Netflix and Amazon for something to watch, like I’m looking through a charity shop sale; without much luck. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for these streaming services, I (my dad) pay for them for Christ’s sakes and I know that one day I’ll be eating my words when I’m offered a Netflix deal that I (in a Vito Corleone voice) “cannot refuse”. However, unlike some of the creators on Netflix, I’ll make the most of this opportunity and be incredibly anal about what I want to make, even if it kills me. 

I feel like so many people are given the license to make whatever they want for Netflix and then I look at the trophy wall of Emmys that HBO has garnered over the years and consider their quality writers and casts. I would say most recently, shows like The Crown, Sex Education, Top Boy and Bridgerton are Netflix’s exceptions currently, being both of quality and giving us something we actually want to watch. And guess what all these shows have in common?! Not only are all the casts largely British but all productions of these shows are British too. The British quality of TV programmes for streaming services in the US is a win win for all; Americans get to watch our good quality TV and we get Golden Globes. Most notably, The Crown did exceptionally (as it always does) at this year’s Golden Globes, further proving the show's excellence despite controversy. I thoroughly praise Netflix's resistance to label the show “fiction” and the lengths it took in making the show as authentically as possible, despite the criticism. The awards speak for themselves and the Crown has scooped up several this year so far. 

To conclude, I want the cinemas to open just as much as anyone, but I’m happy to comply with the stay-at-home-and-watch-Netflix-rule for now. For now...Here’s everything I watched this February.

Annihilation (2018) as seen on Netflix

Netflix’s Annihilation starring Natalie Portman, Jennifer Jason Lee, Gina Rodriguez, Tessa Thompson and Oscar Issac was a multitude of things that were difficult to comprehend. This is not me saying this is a bad film, in fact its me saying the complete opposite as the complexity drew a tangible beauty to the film from beginning to end. I reeeaaalllyyy liked the beginning and how the first scene sucked you into the crazy and fanatical story that later unfolded. Natalie Portman as always was wonderful in this role, playing a biologist who enters another world in search of her husband, who’s gone missing on a similar expedition to hers. Like with most sci fi films, it was difficult to gather the meaning of such a film, however this lack of meaning didn’t draw away from the story or how it was portrayed, in slow and enigmatic shots that told the story with a natural pace. If you’ve seen / liked Ex Machina (2014), Annihilation has the same director and I would thoroughly recommend you watch this too as the way Alex Garland merges sci fi with horror is incredibly seamless.

Score: 10/10

Eastern Promises (2007)  as seen on Amazon Prime 

This film starring Naomi Watts, Viggo Mortensen and Vincent Cassel was incredibly dark and gritty. Even though I’m not Russian, I found Mortensen and Cassel’s Russian personas to be rather good for a Dane and a Frenchman. Their on screen chemistry was also really good and its make me wonder why I haven’t seen a film with these two in it before. The story follows Anna (Naomi Watts) a nurse and her hunt for the true identity and life of a baby that was born to a 14 year old girl. Nikolai and Kirill (Mortensen and Cassel) are Russian gangsters living in London and set about covering up this obscene scandal and getting rid of the product of it, a baby girl belonging to the condemned and now deceased child. It's a difficult plot to wrap your head around and like I said, it's incredibly dark. Actor and director David Cronenberg (A History of Violence 2005) directed this film and helped Viggo Mortensen with a nomination for Best Actor at the 2008 Academy Awards. 

Score: 8/10

Fifty Shades of Grey (2015) as seen on Netflix

So remember how I said I was DESPERATE for films this month...I watched Fifty Shades of Grey with zero expectations and I can say definitively that it was worse than I thought. It's a true miracle that both Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan still have careers 6 years after such a film was released and I personally wouldn’t rush to cast either acting in my film after seeing this. Harsh, I know but reputation is everything and when you sign onto something that instead of highlighting your acting abilities, highlights your body parts, what am I supposed to think... I’m all for body confidence and what not, but I feel like most of this film sort of abuses sexuality and sexual expressions. The fact is, the BDSM part of this film wasn’t even that bad, it was the characters that pissed me off the most and their LACK of character in fact. They were orchestrated in such a flat way and the only time where either one of them found any character was through the sex itself and the discussion of it, especially Anastasia’s character. The most profound and irritating thing about this film is that Anastasia’s life seemed to only have meaning when she met the so called handsome, charming, wonderful, drop dead gorgeous Christian Grey. What does that teach us about women people? I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, sexualising women in film and media shouldn’t be the only reason for them to be there. And the entirety of Fifty Shades of Grey is built upon that fact. Even though the novel was written by a woman, it definitely missed the point in giving us a strong female character who could both be into sex and taken seriously at the same time. Seems like a really hard thing to do in cinema as filmmakers either go for the over-hyped sexualised prostitute, the caring mother or the nun. Like female professionals have never had sex in their lives… think again. I like to wonder what it would’ve been like had it been Ms Grey and Christian as her submissive. Not only would that mix up the character dynamic and go against gender confirmation, it’d actually be interesting. But maybe I should just write that story altogether...To conclude, the characters in this film were flat and the entirety of the film hyped up sex and the act of it way too much. It's like making a film about walking or breathing. 

Score: 1/10

Malcolm & Marie (2021) as seen on Netflix

Malcolm & Marie received a lot of attention in the media and sadly not for the right reasons. In fact, what’s so childish about the backlash is that hardly any of it had to do with the filmmaking techniques Sam Levinson (Euphoria’s creator) used or the story he wrote. More of it had to do with Levinson’s controversial ideas about how the media likes to view and prod film like a goldfish in a bowl, acting ostentatiously towards the art and appearing woke as opposed to just seeing film for how it is. I gather many film critic’s egos were bruised when Levinson used the lead character, Malcolm (John David Washington) as a butcher to film critics. He says things like “I’m choosing to make a film that’s fundamentally political, but not everything I do is political because I’m Black” in reference to the ignorance of some film critics who stamp politics onto any black directed film, attempting to brand the films with their own understanding of the film as opposed to its real message and story. Malcolm spends the majority of the night loathing a fictional “white LA reporter” and betting on her exact words for his own film, about an African American woman trying to get off drugs. What he says is funny, so funny it's true. White reporters DO do this and instead of embracing Levinson’s satricalism, the real LA white reporters of our media got overly offended and used the “lack of story” card as a backdrop to fuel their distaste at being called out. Had they known Levinson’s intentions with this film, they wouldn’t have reviewed it all together as I’m sure Levinson knew what he was getting himself into when mentioning the annoying “white LA reporter” and making the stereotype central to the lead's frustrations towards the industry. Levinson also graciously mentions that even though Malcolm has such hatred towards the critics, he is their fuel and by making his so-called “art” he only joins them in the argument . Levinson made his bed when he made the film and I think he’s sleeping rather comfortably. No one even bothered to praise both Zendaya’s and Washington’s performances, which were phenomenal considering the circumstances and the added pressure of having to carry a whole story in one room using only each other to fulfil that story. The cinematography was ambitious and overall, it was a simple yet well executed story. What are y’all complaining about? 

Let's put egos aside and focus on the actual film for once, rather than how its perceived the articulation of your opinions towards it. 

Score: 10/10

Coming to America (1988) as seen on Amazon Prime

At this moment I truly was becoming a slave to streaming services. I wasn’t particularly leaping at the opportunity to watch this film, however I chose to watch it as I heard that Eddie Murphy was releasing a sequel this year. As someone who doesn’t like comedy, I found this rather funny in places but it's hard to laugh at the black stereotypes portrayed in such a film even when those stereotypes were perpetuated by a black person. There was also a lot of misogyny, something else that I don’t call comedy but just misogyny. I found it hard overlook these moments and kinda saw this element as the downfall to the film which detracted from any of the other comedic moments.

Score: 5/10

Do the Right Thing (1989) as seen on Amazon Prime

One of Spike Lee’s earlier films, Do The Right Thing is a film I’ve been dying to watch for quite some time. The film is like a fascinating book, with chapters on each of the plights of living in Brooklyn in the 1980s. Though it takes one character’s perspective, there are a multitude of other stories that can be found in this film, with them interlinking seamlessly and coming together at the end. This isn’t a film about race but rather one about anger and its potential to divide people, especially when things become heated and fingers are pointed. It covered a variety of perspectives which I like, almost like an episodic series where each episode is different and takes on a different character. This structure added variety to the film and allowed it to cover a multitude of topics in a small space of time. The structure of this film was only successful because its characters, who were funny, three dimensional and above all, had something to say. Director and writer Spike Lee played Mookie, the lead, a pizza delivery man and quite the f**k up on the streets of Brooklyn, using his mouth more than his actions to get by in life. I really liked the balance of moments of comedy and severity which had me laughing in places and immediately stopping afterwards. Well written and I commend Spike Lee for having written, directed and starred in the same film.

Score: 10/10

The Life Ahead (2020) as seen on Netflix

As an actress, Sophia Loren is one of my all time favourites. On seeing films such as A Special Day (1977) Two Women (1960) Marriage, Italian Style (1964), I began to appreciate the work of Sophia Loren and notice how much of an icon she still is today. Having picked up several awards over an expansive 71 YEAR career, she has been honoured many a time by the Golden Globes and Oscars as one of the finest actresses of all time. Her presence on screen is inspiring and she’s been often referred to as the Italian Marilyn Monroe for her beauty inside and out. Here at the age of 86, she plays a Holocaust survivor and foster mother who cares for a troubled boy in The Life Ahead. Loren’s character, Madame Rosa, eventually saving him from a miserable life thieving and selling drugs on the streets of Italian. Loren’s son, Edoardo Ponti directed this film for Netflix and was generous enough to give us Sophia Loren’s presence on screen once more by casting her in the film as the lead.

Score: 9/10

Gold (2016) as seen on Amazon Prime

I found Gold to be one of those talky, talky films that starts at the end and ends at the end (if that makes sense) which in my opinion isn’t the most courageous structure one could use, but is common in biopics. It either starts on the protagonist’s death bed or at the point where the police have just caught them and for Gold it was the latter. The appearance of women in this film was second to none and that’s not me saying the director should’ve added female characters for good measure or token but why make a film that only appeals to one demographic, despite the intensity of the story...film is universal after all and if a film appeals to one certain group then what’s the point of releasing it? This doesn’t detract from Matthew McConaughey’s performance though as a “prospector” looking for gold in Indonesia. Even saying this, the character was very typical of him and it didn’t truly stretch his ability as an actor, not like Dallas Buyer’s Club (2013), Killer Joe (2011) or Interstellar (2014) did. To sum up Gold into one word it’d be “meh”.

Score: 7/10

Creed (2015) as seen on Amazon Prime

This was one of the most surprising films of the month. I’m not crazy about the Rocky films nor see myself watching all of them anytime soon, but Creed appealed as a more modern take on the hit franchise. Michael B Jordan plays Adonis Creed, son of Apollo Creed, a champion boxer who died during a fight before Adonis was born. After being adopted by Apollo’s wife, Adonis Creed sets out to follow his father’s footsteps by becoming a champion heavyweight boxer himself, much to his maternal mother’s displeasure and his coach’s the one and only Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone). The story is similar to that of Rocky and if anything, is a complete revival, using the son of one of Rocky’s former fighter as a backdrop to tell the story. Director Ryan Coogler (Black Panther 2018, Fruitvale Station 2013 ) brought this story to life and a courageous performance out of Michael B. Jordan. Not only was I fascinated by boxing by the end of the film, but just the whole idea of Adonis Creed, a fighter and not a quitter who thoroughly believes in pursuing your goals until they are obtained. Not only is this film for boxing fans but for those who share that same universal message and refuse to give into their own inhibitions to achieve great things. We should look to athletes more often in this respect and consider the pursuit of our own desires as boxing matches and marathon races more often as it helps put our fight into perspective and teaches us never to give in. 

Score: 11/10

Arrival (2016) as seen on DVD

Before anyone comes for me for not having seen Arrival, before I was a movie buff I had briefly come across the film several times but had never taken the time to sit it out and watch it from beginning to end. I’m glad I did as Denis Villeneuve is one of my favourite directors evah and along with Christopher Nolan, I consider him as the King of Sci Fi. Every single one of his films is incroyable (as the french say) and it's a mystery why he hasn’t been handed an Oscar yet. Arrival is this slow and beautiful story of a linguistics teacher (Amy Adams) who agrees to help on a mission to communicate with extraterrestrial life forms that have landed on planet earth in the form of twelve huge spaceships. Structure isn’t something we typically consider when watching a film, but it plays such an important part in Arrival for time and the manipulation of it is the main theme of this film. Essentially, the language in which Dr. Banks translates from the intelligent life form gives its readers the ability to see into the future, which is when we come to realize that she’ll have a child, who will die of an unnamed disease. Despite this fact, she decides to live the life fate intended for her. The reason why Arrival is a highly credible film is because of the coverage it has as a film in terms of what it's trying to say as a film. From someone who finds it hard to bring out the emotion of a screenplay, Arrival is a great example to me as a film that combines both a cinematic feeling and a strong emotional presence throughout the film. It doesn’t abandon emotions or relationships just because the film is about aliens, but instead embraces them into the story and intertwines them with the aliens who’ve come to planet earth. At the end of the day, we can have explosions, spaceships and aliens galore, but if we’re unable to connect with characters on an emotional level then the film becomes boring. Arrival is far from boring and may bring a tear or two to your eye by the end.

Score: 11/10

The News of the World (2020) as seen on Netflix

I feel like it's impossible to hate a film with Tom Hanks in it and The News of the World definitely fits into that.  Five years after the US Civil War, Cpt. Jefferson Kyle Kidd (Tom Hanks) spends his days travelling around the US ‘reading the news’ to anyone who’s willing to listen. The majority of the US was illiterate in the 19th Century, meaning it was up to people like Jefferson to inform others of the ongoings in the world by reading them the paper. It’s a wondrous thing to think about, how information was once spread throughout the world in such an archaic format. Jefferson did this off his own back, not asking for much and finding fulfilment in the reactions to the news that he “broadcasted” to them. Whilst on his travels, Jefferson comes across a young girl (Golden Globe nominee Helena Zengal) who’s negro family had been killed by lynchers. The girl was originally from a Native American tribe but had been separated by them, leaving her to fend for herself. When Jefferson comes across her, he’s reluctant to take her in at first but decides to take her to some relatives across the country. It’s definitely the role you expect of Tom Hanks and his heart warming nature is captured for us in this film for Netflix.

Score: 9/10

The Mask (1994) as seen on Netflix

It's hard for me to label The Mask as a good film as that would mean shaking off the horrendous amount of misogyny it has and the lack of diversity within its characters. Films mean different things for people, but ultimately most of them reflect an element of humanity and explore it on screen with originality and authenticity. Cameron Diaz’s character was only there to fulfil the sexual appetites of the men around her, which is something I loathe in female characters. Originality The Mask has, authenticity, not so much. That's probably the reason why I hate comedies so much, most of them are written by men and are about men so it can get quite boring to watch at times. I liked the idea of The Mask but it definitely could’ve been executed in a less misogynistic way. 

Score: 5/10

Jackie (2016) as seen on Amazon Prime

One word; perfection. This film was hands down one of the most beautiful, genuine and honest films I’ve seen in my entire life. It had me reminiscing Todd Haynes’ Carol (2015) in a number of ways, from the similar filmmaking techniques to the slow and melancholy atmosphere that was being created on screen. The AMAZING Natalie Portman plays Jackie Kennedy, wife of John F. Kennedy who was brutally assassinated on a visit to Dallas, Texas in 1963. The fact that I didn’t even KNOW that his poor wife was in the car with him at the point of the assassination is shocking. On watching the film, I learnt Jackie was a remarkable, brave and intelligent woman who after her husband's death put so much into preserving her husband’s legacy despite his lack of popularity. The way the film is shot and the music by the brilliant Mica Levi (Under the Skin 2013 , Monos 2019) just ties everything together into a enigmatic and wonderful film. Natalie Portman was nominated for Best Actress at the 2017 Academy Awards and rightly so. This film has further proven my thoughts on her as one of the greatest actresses of our time. I seriously cannot EXPRESS how much I love this film, directed by Chilean director Pablo Larraín, who’s also made another film that I can’t get enough of Ema, which was released 2 years ago.

Score: 12/10

Foxcatcher (2014) as seen on BBC iPlayer

When we first think of Steve Carell, our minds probably drift to his most notable performance as Michael Scott from The Office or even Gru in Despicable Me. It's rare for a so called “comedy” actor to find his way into films with a more dramatic substance and over the last few years, this is what Carell has been showing us on screen, with this role in Foxcatcher and more recently, in Felix van Groeningen’s Beautiful Boy (2018). Foxcatcher is the true story of a wrestler offered the opportunity to train with a private wrestling team owned by a huge chemical corporation. Channing Tatum plays Mark Schultz, a quiet and reserved wrestler who trains alongside his brother David (Mark Ruffalo), also a champion wrestler. What's sad to see in this twisted story is how validated Mark feels once the powerful and wealthy John Du Pont (Steve Carrell) begins to take an interest in him and takes him under his wing. This relationship drives a wedge between Mark and his brother David, but much to John’s displeasure, it doesn’t last long. This is definitely a story of power and how people can react in bad ways when they are owed too much of it. Every performance in this was astounding and the slow and subtle telling of the story was truly beautiful to watch. Foxcatcher is a film I’ve been dying to watch for some time and it DID NOT disappoint. Period. The film was also nominated for five Oscars back in 2015, including Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. 

Score: 11/10

In Fabric (2018) as seen on BBC iPlayer

Based on the current reviews of In Fabric, I deem the film a poncy experimental spectacle. Not only did it not say much, but what it was trying to say was rather disturbing and quite frankly bizarre. However, it's not a film I can necessarily hate on as it is experimental, meaning from the get go, I shouldn’t be expecting any sort of clear cut narrative, with relationships, protagonists, conflict or hierarchies. Experimental films are more about exploring a central idea and having all its “characters'' not essentially prove the idea, but just talk about it, like a debate but everyone agrees in the end. A debate where everyone agrees would be boring, which is why I find experimental films to be boring as most of the time they don’t have a meaning and sadly as humans, we’re obsessed with finding the meaning of things or else we’ll go crazy. And I would say this film definitely left me crazy at the end, proving the idea of man’s constant need to find meanings in things. In Fabric wasn’t really relatable, funny, clever or bold. It kinda just...was.

Score: 5/10

Delicatessen (1991) as seen on DVD

I love how the world likes to think that the American film market is the only film market when in actuality the French created the actual concept of cinema and the idea to project “movies” onto a large screen. With this has come a plethora of incredible movies from France that have gone onto to change the film industry forever. There’s a reason why the most prestigious and exclusive film festival in the entire world is held in the South of France and not LA. Jean-Pierre Jeunet is the auteur behind Amélie (2001) one of the most well known independent films ever to be made and before Amélie came Delicatessen. This film is Tim Burton meets Wes Anderson but in French and tells the story of a man working for a butcher and the crazy characters he meets in the same apartment as him. By the end it's clear that The Butcher is selling more than pork and beef down in his store and that the new tenant is due to be the next item on sale. I loved how weird and larger than life the characters were and the otherworldly set design used for this film. There were so many moments that are quite hard to explain the beauty of them and if you’ve seen Wes Anderson or Tim Burton’s work, you’ll notice the similarities between this film and their work, perhaps showing a french influence on the current American market.

Score: 10/10

Amélie (2001) as seen on DVD

Continuing on with the French theme, I was reminded this month of the beauty of Amélie. Every, single, shot in this film is pure perfection and I bet all my money that Wes Anderson was a mega fan of this film when it came out. It's truly a film like none other and it’s only this time around did I realise how much I RELATE to Amélie. The way she sacrifices herself for others and gets nothing in return, the lengths she goes to tell someone something instead of JUST SAYING IT, her lack of friends, I can definitively say that there isn’t a character on screen that I’ve related to more than Amélie (besides Elio from cmbyn). If you haven’t seen Amélie have a word with yourself.

Score: 11/10

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) as seen on Amazon Prime

Pan’s Labyrinth was a surprisingly amazing film and I wonder why I hadn’t seen it sooner. I was astounded to see it was in Spanish which I thought made the story somehow better. It's rare that we see such high budget and well known film that’s in a foreign language but I’m glad this film got the noise it did when it was released. Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water 2017) tells us the story of 10 year old Ofelia and her discovery of magical creatures in the woods that inhabit the outskirts of her new home. Not only that but it’s 1944. The Spanish Civil War has been over for five years but small groups of guerrilla rebels continue to fight against the new fascist dictatorship led by Francisco Franco. This is a well structured film that shows two strong worlds and combines them in a satisfying way, which isn’t an easy thing as sometimes films can get lost in the facts of history instead of the emotions and dynamic relationships. The set design in this was UNREAL as always and I really felt for the characters and their given circumstances. And that’s what we call a film.

Score: 11/10

I Care A Lot (2021) as seen on Amazon Prime 

For a full review of I Care A Lot, follow the link: https://ratingtheframe.tumblr.com/post/643763403606867968/a-strong-performance-from-rosamund-pike-that-we

Score: 8/10

Interview with a Vampire (1994) as seen on BBC iPlayer

We were doing SO WELL until I made the costly decision to watch this waffle of a film, directed by Neil Jordan. Not only was the story all over the place, but the dialogue itself was incredibly on the nose and self explanatory throughout. It feels like there was more talking about the film instead of showing the film, which just made me switch off from early on in the film. I hated the casting of Tom Cruise in this and there were moments when I believed his character, but none of them outweighed the overarched and over bearing performance he was attempting to give. Brad Pitt was marginally better but the performance of Kirsten Dunst who was 12 years old at the time this film was released, outdid both actors. She was the only character that I truly felt for / cared about and her on screen presence was both enviable and wise beyond her years. Personally, I can’t explain what this film was even about because I truly didn’t get what was going on, however if you’re a fan of Kirsten Dunst’s work, this would be a suitable film to watch in that respect. 

Score: 4/10

Fargo (1996) as seen on Amazon Prime

Fargo is probably most known as a Netflix series, but before that, it was originally a film directed by the Coen Brothers and starred the likes of Frances McDormand, Steve Buscemi, William H Macy and John Carroll Lynch. I’ve been meaning to watch Fargo for quite some time and I was not disappointed with the outcome of it. It's one of those good old fashioned crime films, with lots of twists and blood split throughout the film. The film won two Oscars in 1997; one for Best Actress which was handed to Frances McDormand playing a police officer investigating a string of murders in Minnesota and another for Best Original Screenplay. A really well constructed story with a fantastic cast and great cinematography work from Roger Deakins (1917 (2020), Blade Runner 2049 (2017) The Shawshank Redemption (1994). 

Score: 10/10

The Darjeeling Limited (2007) as seen on Amazon Prime

The Darjeeling Limited further proves to us Wes Anderson’s ability to create entire new worlds and show us stories that take place all across the world. Three brothers, Peter (Adrien Brody), Jack (Jason Schwartzman) and Francis (Owen Wilson) have travelled to India in an attempt to bond with one another “spiritually” after the death of their father. Peter and Jack aren’t too keen on this little expedition, irritated at their brothers' intrusiveness over the trip. The majority of the film is set on this fanatical train travelling across India and yet again, we are blessed with some phenomenal production design to tell us a fun and uplifting story. What’s more is that the boys’ mother (Anjelica Huston) lives in India as a nun at the foot of the Himalayas. This becomes the real reason for their venture and such a thing changes the character dynamics between the three men. India is shown in all its beauty in this film using the backdrop of three men’s relationship with one another as a story.

Score: 9/10

The Life Aquatic of Steve Zissou (2004) as seen on DVD

Another one of Wes Anderson’s lesser known films but equally as good as the rest, this film follows a group of marine explorers travelling across the pacific to try and kill a shark that supposedly ate a member of Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) ’s crew. With an all star cast composed of Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Cate Blanchett, Jeff Goldblum and Anjelica Huston this film was entertaining, enlightening and cinematographically ambitious. Steve Zissou is a fictional character who makes a living off of extreme and dangerous marine explorations. He makes films of his travels using his crew and after screening his latest film, he meets a young man (Owen Wilson) claiming to be his son. Evidently, Zissou is reluctant to accept that this man is his son and uses his presence as financial gain to the project. I appreciated all performances in this film and the set design (as always with Anderson’s films) was exceptional.

Score: 9/10

Life of Pi (2012) as seen on Amazon Prime

A highly visual and emotional film that carries beauty throughout in both performance and story, Life of Pi was directed by Brokeback Mountain (2005)’s Ang Lee and tells the story of Pi (Suraj Sharma and Irrfan Khan) a young boy alone in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a fully grown Bengal Tiger. Winner of 4 Academy Awards including Best Director at the 2013 Academy Awards, this film does a phenomenal job of reminding us why cinema is such a superior and infinite art form. Pi’s family are on their way from India to America, exporting a large number of their zoo animals in hope of selling them once they reach the other side of the world. After a horrendous storm ravages their cargo ship, Pi is left all alone in the ocean with what only appears to be a small dingy, but to his horror, he comes to find that the zoo’s tiger Richard Parker is keeping him company in the middle of the ocean. Now if that ain’t a viable story, then I don’t know what is. To make a film look like it was set in the middle of a Pacific and with a Bengal Tiger is no small feat. Suraj Sharma’s performance was both truthful and powerful, despite the film being mostly shot in a studio with nothing but animation for Richard Parker. This is one of very few films that does the original novel justice. 

Score: 11/10

Capone (2021) as seen on Netflix

Yikes. Capone has not been getting a lot of love in the media since its release on Netflix on 24th February. Personally, it's not the most god awful, offensive film I’ve seen and yet I wouldn’t have been the one to have made such a film either. The film is supposed to depict the last year of the infamous and notorious Al Capone, who suffered from numerous illnesses at only the age of 48. Tom Hardy plays the blood thirsty gangster and I have to say, this was a thoughtless casting choice. Hardy doesn’t have an ounce of Italian in his face and he put on this larger than life caricature of an accent that had me feeling rather sorry for him at moments when I shouldn’t have been. The acting was exceptional, but believable and interesting? That’s another argument altogether. Cinematography and sound wise, I thought the film was excellent in those respects but again, those should be additions to the integral story of a film. I get why Hardy signed up though, what actor wouldn’t want to play a mob boss? Maybe the point of Al’s life in which this film was built upon was perhaps wrong for the screen and I’m sure most would have preferred Hardy to play Capone at his peak. This film is a clear example of people getting ahead of themselves when they first explore an idea for a film. This film could have easily been saved in the development stage had someone said let’s not do this.

Score: 5/10

Creed II (2018) as seen on Amazon Prime

Obviously a prequel will always outdo a sequel, however I found Creed II to be just as meaningful as the first film. Maybe even more so as Adonis Creed (Michael B Jordan) is becoming a father his responsibilities have shifted dramatically. He’s also desperate to fight Viktor Drago, a Ukrainian ruthless boxer whose father accidentally killed Creed’s father in a match decades before. Drago is tough, beyond what he and his coach Rocky (Sylvester Stallone) could ever imagine and because of this, it drives a wedge between Adonis’ relationship with his coach. Creed thinks Rocky doesn’t believe he can beat Drago but Rocky insists not fighting the bull of a boxer would benefit him greatly, after all, look what happened to his father. The character dynamics have shifted in this sequel, but the structure has remained largely the same. We kind of knew what we were being served at the end and the change in character was there for everyone.

Score: 10/10

...and that’s it! Everything I watched this February, you do not want to KNOW how long this list took to compile. Thanks for reading and see you next month!

ig: @ratingtheframe

#Movie Reviews #new movies #movies #natalie portman #sci fi films #alex garland #netflix original #Netflix movies #netflix #fifty shades trilogy #malcolm & marie #zendaya #john david washington #sam levinson #euphoria #coming to america #do the right thing #spike lee #the life ahead #sophia loren #matthew maconaughey #creed #michael b jordan #arrival #denis villeneuve #the news of the world #tom hanks #the mask #jim carrey #cameron diaz

[gaasaku-fanfests]

The Blacksmith’s Daughter

Title: The Blacksmith’s Daughter Author: gaarasgoddess Rating: T Word Count: 2,906 words Summary: What happens when a fallen daughter meets a rising son? What happens when they discover that fate had more in store for them than the lives they’d planned? Japan’s medieval, Edo Period is the background as Gaara and Sakura miss each other in a series of missed connections only to fall into each other hard. Warnings: Mentions of blood and murder. Author’s Note(s): Definition from google: “Medieval Japan is characterised by a decentralised government, warfare, and the rise of a powerful warrior class. Fighting was a way of life for the men and women and politics was as changing as a fire’s breath.” Trope: Medieval Japan AU

.

Her parentage was never in question. Sakura was the fifteenth daughter born to the Emperor of Japan. She was the only daughter of a noblewoman who had been sold to the Emperor when her father couldn’t pay his debt. A woman who had failed to produce any more offspring since.

It was a fact. That was who she was. Who she was told never to forget.

And so she believed for eighteen years of being prepped for a marriage to some unknown man, whichever suitor her father decided brought him the most money or power. She learned her kanji, her cursive, her history, her airs and pomp, and her manners. Anything that would be needed to attract a high placed family to want to welcome her into theirs, was taught to her.

She said “yes” to a stranger. To a man she would spend her life with. A man that refused to meet her until then. But she would do her duty. She would wait for him.

In the meantime, her father saw fit to send her to the allied camps to learn to heal. To learn to take care of people. She already knew how to serve her future husband and what to expect when she moved to his land to begin her new life. For now her present was spent tending to the injuries of soldiers who fought and died to keep her father’s control of this land in his own hands. She got a taste of what life was supposed to be about.

With war and death rampant in the country, the shoguns fought over who had dominion where and who deserved to. The Emperor was just a figure head but he was an important one. He spent his days in meetings and adding this pomp and stature in the eyes of the lowly, commoners, and his nights whoring - with whores and wives. Sakura had so many siblings she didn’t think it meant anything who she was, really. Or him. The father who didn’t care about appearances.

And who had no control over what was coming.

.x.

He was the son of a whore. The devil didn’t care about gender. His father was a whore. It didn’t matter that he carried the title of shogun. It didn’t matter that he was well respected. It only mattered that the man deserved to die.

Gaara caught him fucking the servant girls on a weekly basis and a noblewoman’s daughter - or two - every other week. Rasa didn’t bother to hide it anymore. His wife was expected to not care. But his children hated him for it.

Gaara grew up respecting this man; he wanted to be just like him and signed up to become a samurai, as his father had done in his youth, without a second thought. He wanted to get married once he turned eighteen, like his father did, and carry on the tradition of moving into politics and teaching everything he’d learnt to his children. He wanted to matter.

But on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he’d had enough. Gaara packed his bags and enlisted with the regular army and didn’t look back. His father didn’t bother trying to stop him but said he had to return to marry some rich man’s wife in two years.

Not happening.

He never bothered to ask what the girl’s name was. Nor to attend the meetings that had been organised between them. He should get to know her, his mother said, and he almost yelled back “like father is getting to know the servants?”. Almost. She was to be pitied and he did. His father was a whore and a cunt.

But he couldn’t bare to watch her suffer Rasa’s indiscretions. So he left and didn’t look back. His siblings went their own way too, also disgusted.

That was a decision he’d never regretted. Until the day he met the blacksmith’s daughter and decided fate was indeed a fickle bitch.

.x.

Sakura wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before standing and stretching. The last group of soldiers had been hit by enemy arrows in a final attempt to rule the battlefield and were full of holes for their troubles. She’d been on her feet all night.

After years of tutelage, she was almost ready to be allowed to return home. She enjoyed healing people and was not looking forward to returning to the noble court. Her mother’s latest letter had her afraid of what awaited her. She wasn’t ill but talked as though her days were numbered. It made her want to rush to her side but it also left her fearful for her own well being.

Mebuki spoke of assassination attempts and having betrayed her Emperor. That she was going to hell for what she’d done. The raving comments also told Sakura that she was in danger.

‘Don’t come here.’ She wrote. But it made no sense.

“Lady Sakura?”

She started before smiling at her newest patient. Sakura smiled widely at him. “Lord Kankuro, you need to rest.”

He scoffed, failing to sit up in his cot. “I’m fine.”

“Your arm was infected and you’ve been unconscious for days,“ she said, fussing over his bandages.

“You sound like my mother,” he mummbled. And she tutted at him. “Are you busy after this?”

“Huh?” She frowned at him, confused.

“Uh,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not coming onto you, I promise. It’s just, I asked out a cute nurse and she turned me down but if she thought it was a group thing... never mind forget I asked.”

Sakura glanced at the nurse in question when Kankuro looked over at her. She was one of the new recruits who barely knew anything about medicine. Called Matsuri, or something. Sakura also knew that Matsuri was crushing on some other soldier who apparently refused to give her the time of day and had transferred out of this med-tent when the brunette girl wouldn’t stop following him around. Kankuro might be just what she needed, since the rejection from the other soldier had affected her performance in surgery.

Sakura sighed. “I’ll get her in the mess tent and you can bump into us.”

“Thanks, Saku-chan.” He grinned.

She shook her head. “And don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Saks.”

She poked him.

“Okay, okay.”

.x.

Gaara left the tent for two reasons. One: that Matsuri chick was getting on his nerves. Two: the flush of embarrassment he felt when he spotted his brother. He was talking to some pink haired physician and the brothers had not spoken for years. He knew Kankuro had enlisted but didn’t give it much thought, since he kept to himself and took on the more dangerous missions. And he remembered his brother as hating conflict. But so much seemed to have changed.

Pink hair.

Something stirred in his memory but he brushed it aside.

“We’re heading out.” Baki, his commanding officer, hollered at him.

Gaara took a last look at the laughing man he’d once called brother (his eyes drifting over the pretty physician) before following Baki. The redhead had risen in the ranks so fast because of his power and prowess that even the General had stood to attention. The strange man that had connections to nobles and warriors alike.

The Emperor’s favoured mass killer.

.x.

A month of blood stuck to his skin. Gaara didn’t wash except to trek through streams. He smelled like the country side. It made for decent cover as he slinked into the shadows and pounced from bushes and hovels to kill his targets.

He’d become an assassin. After Baki’s death and word spreading of the decimation of his entire platoon, he was reassigned to the darker, specialised killers. He wasn’t a ninja. He wasn’t one of them. But he drew as much blood as they did. He killed like he’d been born to it. Gone were the concerns over the brother and sister he’d left behind. The mother who had passed to illness in the last winter.

Six months ago he’d avoided Kankuro in a medical tent and now he stood, face-to-face with the man, unable to hide his true intentions. He’d been sent here to assist with a platoon that was trying to take out a rival shogun’s family. They needed this family dead. They needed someone who could disappear into the shoin-zukuri in shadow and slit those throats without raising any alarms.

His father needed to appear to have clean hands in their deaths.

Times were changing and the old man was losing control. These enemies needed to die. And so they did. Gaara emerged from their home, covered in blood. He faced down his brother - the man who greeted him and thanked him for his service as though they hadn’t once occupied the same womb.

Gaara’s grip on his sword was tenuous even as he gripped it tighter. How he wanted to just charge the stranger in front of him. To show him who it was that deserved to be in the light and put the dark behind him. But then a mousy girl came out of the tent behind Kankuro.

His wife.

Matsuri had given into him after all. And her belly was full of his brother’s child. She watched on at the silent exchange as though she had never followed Gaara around hoping to be the one to carry his children.

Who cares?

But it made him wonder if someone could. If the monster he’d become could have that. So his hand slacked and he lowered his weapon. This was not worth the aching in his heart. It was time to choose his fate and he refused to die here.

Gaara turned and fled back to the dark. Back into the pain of his life.

.x.

Her return home had not been the horror story Sakura had feared. Though she wished she’d not returned at all. She’d stood at the walls and contemplated fleeing her future. The man who’d been her betrothed had been killed in battle, she said. He was a stain on the memory of her family, so she was to pretend he’d never existed.

But she’d also heard rumours he’d simply defected. A runaway and potentially a traitor. The son rose high and she’d been falling from herself so far. Sakura could not climb the wall in front of her. So she let the guards usher her inside. To see her mother’s corpse. The accident had been tragic they said. The poor woman died so suddenly they claimed. How sad.

Sakura did not spend much time in the presence of the body but even she had seen how only poison could make those pink lips turn so blood red. But what was she to do? She questioned the mortician. She asked to see the autopsy report. But nothing came of it. At last, her father sent an official to inform her she was being sent out again.

Where you’ll cause less fuss.

And this was how she descended into infamy.

.x.

Sakura did not correspond with Kankuro and Matsuri after that first time they’d spent together. She helped him woo the girl and got out of there. Apparently, the man the brunette had liked was determined to ignore her and had gained a reputation for being blood thirsty, which was unbecoming of his noble status. No good was going to come of it.

She wasn’t even invited to the wedding.

But she didn’t care. Sakura returned to the medical tents and threw herself into the work. But she knew she couldn’t keep this up for long. Soldiers would give her strange looks. Shogun under her knife would not call her Lady anymore when she visited them in recovery. And every night she sensed the hidden follower when she returned to her tent. Someone had decided she was trouble. What she could have done, other than question the healers back home, she didn’t know.

But time was getting short as she started to get called into the med tent less and less. She was not as needed as before. She was getting a bad feeling. Rumours of how the war was turning away from her Shogun had her worried. Perhaps the children of the Emperor were being watched more closely? But nobody here should know who she was. She was just supposed to be another noble, not royalty.

Her surgery talents were being wasted.

After overhearing her superior talking to a soldier about transferring her to the front line to get rid of her, Sakura had had enough. She decided to take things into her own hands.

.x.

He followed the girl as she began packing and making her excuses to the soldiers that she was going for a run to get rid of hospital scrubs. He watched as she stole a horse and rode away as though the devil were on her tail. He was tempted to follow. So desperately so, that Gaara didn’t bother questioning that urge. He took his horse and rode into the darkness of the night that surrounded the camp.

Pink hair.

She was the same healer who had helped his brother. The one who’d given Kankuro his happy ending with Matsuri. It had to mean something that he’d been assigned to watch her, and kill her if she tried to flee.

.x.

They did not get far. Sakura and the horse she’d dubbed Shugo. A dark brown pedigree that she’d pushed to its limits in the span of the night. The devil was on her tail. But a day had passed and already she had to sell it for supplies. She needed to go incognito and figure out her next move. Sakura had no idea how to live as a peasant but she’d dealt with harsh circumstances before. Living as a physician in the middle of a war was not the lap of luxury of her former home of course.

And still she felt the weight of eyes on her like that shadow from the camp would not leave her alone. Something or someone was following her and she needed to get out of the open. Dyeing her hair and offering her services as a weaver seemed the sensible thing to do. Nobody noticed the dark haired girl walking among a crowd of similarly dark haired girls.

A month later she was still being hounded by the darkness of her shadow and no amount of companionship from those she met and dallied with could throw off her feeling of being hunted. But the hunter did nothing. And she was letting everything go.

One day, her lowered guard would be the best of her.

.x.

He enjoyed watching her. She was his target but her desire to run from the same life he abhorred kept his knife in its sheathe. It kept his eyes feasting on her flesh instead of tearing into it with a weapon that he still wanted to use.

Gaara did not need to kill to survive. He was beginning to realise that. So he decided to take her lead and ingratiate himself into this new world. He found a dwelling and scrubbed the smell of the land from his body. It seemed to take months to finally be free of the blood. But nobody knew how much was still on him more than he did. It would be there forever.

But he finally looked like he belonged the day he purposefully, accidentally ran into her, knocking her groceries to the ground.

This was how the woman came to know him. She had been going by the name Amaya but introduced herself as Sakura the moment he asked. They both looked surprised at this and she realised who he was the moment he smirked, his canines almost looking like they were dripping in blood.

Her heart beat raced. Her palms were sweaty. Her eyes were wide.

But all he did was bow to her and offer his help in picking up her dropped supplies. All he did was ask her to allow him to pay for her dinner. All he did was touch her softly, carefully, to make sure she knew what he wanted from her.

And Sakura had no idea why she gave it to him. Waves of blinding light and rocking motions and crashing against each other; humming and moaning and joining and she was his. They came together in so many perfect ways. She didn’t question why her shadow decided to love her instead of kill her. She was lost to the pleasure and the touches that gave her reason to let go.

To just let go.

.x.

News of her father’s death and his father’s brutal murder did nothing to stir them.

Sakura just smiled as the local gossip spread the news and the official reports came in. As though she were just another citizen. A dark haired girl who used to be pink.

Gaara helped her to her feet and they wandered out of the temple where they’d finally made their life official. Nothing else mattered. Their pasts were fake and they had their eyes on the future, instead.

That’s how he became just some random farmer travelling into the area with his pregnant wife. And that’s how she became the Blacksmith’s Daughter travelling into the new area, pregnant and looking to start a fresh life with her new husband.

.x.

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #2020 GaaSaku Free-for-All #fanfic #gaarasgoddess

[okk--maaan]

Bad Kitchen Dreams

Hi. This is very dumb. But I couldn’t help myself when @ellelaconi​ threw out a Pale Kitchen Nightmares AU. So here you go. Feel free to imagine him in a blonde Matt wig and chef’s coat with a British accent.

WC: ~1.7k (whoops)

CW: you’re a really bad chef, Pale degrading you because you’re such a bad chef, pussy eating, fingering, PIV, brief drug mention, OSHA violations

Pale has traveled all over the country doing this. Helping desperate restaurant owners resurrect their businesses from the ashes. But in his twenty years, he’s never seen a situation as dire as this. As dire as yours.

When he pulls up in his big black car, he can tell the restaurant isn’t open. “Who the fuck ain’t open at one o’clock in the afternoon? Fuckin’ bullshit,” he mutters to himself. And sure enough. When he tries the front door - locked. He bangs on the glass and yells, “Hey! Hello! Anybody in there?!” After like five fuckin’ minutes of this, you finally appear -- wearing a dirty disgusting chef’s coat, your hair haphazardly pinned up, shit on your face. You wipe your hands down your front, smearing something orange across the little bit of white left on your apron.

As soon as you turn the lock, Pale pushes his way through with his big body. Without the barrier of safety glass, he can really get a good look at you. Even with all the mess, you’re pretty fuckin’ hot. Stunning really. Makin’ his cock twitch in his dark jeans, with your soft fuckin’ eyes and lips and shit. But he can’t think about that right now. He’s got work to do. Clearly.

He sticks a fat hand out and greets, “Hey doll. The name’s Jimmy. But call me Pale. Everyone calls me Pale. Hate that fuckin’ name in fact. Jimmy. Only person call me that is my fuckin’ wife.” You’re flustered with how quickly he rambles, but you take his hand and introduce yourself. “Well let me ask you something. Why the hell ain’t you open? It’s the middle of fuckin’ lunch,” he wave his hands all over the place like this is the most atrocious thing. And honestly, in his opinion, it might be. “Uhh well no one’s in here,” you try to explain. He scoffs, “Yeah no shit. Kinda hard for people to get in with the door locked and all.” He did have a point there. You wring your sweaty palms together, trying to fight the utter embarrassment. “Thank you for agreeing to help me, Jimmy - uh Pale. Please tell me what I need to do to fix this.” He leans in real close, jabs a thumb behind him, “Why don’t you unlock the fuckin’ door first?” You chuckle nervously and walk past him. Pale can’t help but glance at your ass as you do, just can’t help himself. And damn. You look just as good from the back as you do from the front. And again, his dick agrees.

With the restaurant officially open, you give Pale a tour. But the condition of the dining room is so deplorable, he doesn’t want to go any further. “Nah doll. I ain’t going in that kitchen. I got half a mind to even let you cook for me,” he throws his hands up in protest. He pulls out the cleanest chair he can find and plops down. Dusting off the tiny table in front of him, he asks, “So what kinda food you serve here?” “I create Mexican Italian fusion dishes,” you respond quickly and proudly. But that pride is short lived, with the way he’s staring at you. “Huh. Fusion. Well I’ll be the judge of that,” he purses his lips as he opens a cloth napkin and sets it in his lap. You take that as your cue to bring out his first course.

“Here we have a baby squid, steamed with lemon and capers,” you say in your best chef’s voice. Steamed? Squid? Pale thinks - knows - what’s sitting in front of him won’t be good. But you’re too fuckin’ pretty for him to flat-out refuse. He wishes he did a bump before coming in this place. By the way he has to stab the fish with his fork, he instantly knows it’s not cooked. “Look, I ain’t eating this. This squid is so raw, I can hear it telling Spongebob to fuck off.” Hot tears prick at your eyes. And he can see it. “No. Come on now. Don’t start that shit. Just - just bring me the next course,” he dismisses you.

You set two overly stuffed enchiladas in front of Pale. They look better than the squid, but his hopes aren’t too high. When he finally musters up the courage to take a bite, he wants to spit it out right away. “These are the worst fuckin’ enchiladas I’ve ever had,” he throws down his fork. You go to remove the plate, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you to his eye level. “Look doll. I know I said I didn’t want to go into that fuckin’ kitchen, but you’re going to take me back there. Right now. Show me with the fuck you got going on.” The way his breath blows over your face and his eyes bore into you, you can’t refuse. “Oh-okay,” you stutter.

As you walk to the kitchen, Pale follows, and you can feel his gaze locked on you. And he is truly mesmerized by the way your hips swing. As soon as he crosses the threshold, he demands any and every other employee leave. “Go clean something. And don’t come back in her til’ I say so. Got it?” All life - including the cockroaches - scatters. Except for you. And him. He stalks over to you liek a wild animal. And you’re his prey. Your ass back up against the metal counter, where he cages you between his strong arms. “How’s this sweetheart. Your restaurant is disgusting, your food is even worse. This place ain’t gonna stay open another month. But you? You’re the best damn thing I’ve seen this side of the Hudson.” He steps in even closer, pressing his hot hot body to yours. “Pale, I-” your eyes drop between your bodies. You can feel the bulge in his pants, insistent on your stomach. Before you can choke out another word, his fingers are digging into your soft hips. In one swift instant motion, he lifts you to sit atop the cold counter and mashing his mouth to yours. Demanding. Hungry. You part your lips for him without protest, let his tongue slide against yours. Your fingers comb and twist into his slicked back hair. He moans and thrusts into you when your nails scratch at his scalp. A sudden burst of confidence implores your hands to move to work at undoing his jeans. But he swats you away, pinches your cheeks between his forefinger and thumb. “Nuh uh doll. You’re not ready for my big cock yet.” When you nod in agreement, he releases your face and finds your own waistband, yanking down your pants and panties at once. With those around your ankles, he spreads you open and admires your glistening cunt. “God. Are you always this wet for every Joe Blow that walks in this joint?” You can feel your face heat up at the comment, but Pale ain’t paying not attention. He’s too busy dropping to his knees and wedging himself between yours. And he wastes no time diving in. You gasp and hiccup at the sudden contact. He licks and sucks at your silky folds, drinking down everything you give him. Occasionally, his proud nose nudges your stiff clit, sending shockwaves down your spine. He grunts and pulls away with a wet pop, “Finally something edible. Finally some good fucking pussy.” Fuck he really wishes he had some coke or a cigarette or a drink, something. He’s already too worked up and he doesn’t want to wait anymore.

So he doesn’t.

Pale stands back to his full, towering height and makes quick work of his belt. He uses one hand to free himself, while he coats two fingers on the other in your slick. “Are you ready to take my big cock sweetheart?” he asks before shoving his thick digits deep into you. You inhale sharply and groan at the intrusion. “Yes Pale. Please.” He shakes his head, his dick now in his hand, where he strokes it slowly. “Nah doll. I want to hear you say it.” It takes every last brain cell not focused on the sensation of his burning hand pumping into you to find the words. “Yes - ah fuck - yes. Please fuck me. I’m ready to take your big cock.” Before you even finish your sentence, he’s lining up and thrusting into you. Hard. Deep. Your head falls back and knocks the steel service pass at the same time his cock head knocks your cervix. “Fuck. Fuck me. I like the way you beg sweetheart.” As he sets his brutal pace, the only sounds you can return are moans and whimpers and gasps. Your sounds of pleasure mix with his grunts and groans and curses and the delicious sound of bare skin smacking on bare skin. The symphony you create together bounces off pots pans plaster walls. “Fuckin’. This tight little pussy is gonna make me bust. Mmnh - fuck. Play with yourself doll. Make yourself cum. Make yourself fuckin’ cum on my cock.” You think you nod your head, but you’re not really sure. Either way, you brace your weight on one hand and use the other to draw perfect tight circles into your needy clit. The extra stimulation, added to Pales’ filthy words and steady driving driving into you, pushes you right over the edge. “Unnhh Pale. I- I’m gonna cu- I’m gonna-” “Yeah. That’s right. Cum on my cock. Cum on my cock in your dirty kitchen. Add to the mess. I’m gonna fuckin’ add to the mess. I’m gonna cum all over you. Fuck it’s disgusting in here,” he babbles and rants. You don’t even care that he’s continuing to insult your restaurant, even when he’s balls deep in you. You don’t even care because you can feel your cunt tightening around him and that ball of fire tightening around your insides. He fucks into one, two, three times more and everything explodes. You lurch forward, eyes pinched tight, cum with a shout. He follows right behind, pulling out of your still convulsing cunt, fucking his fist fast. Shooting sticky thick streams of cum onto one of your thighs, your exposed belly, and the counter. As he groans through the end of his climax, he smacks your undefiled thigh and grunts, “Shut it down doll.”

And you do.

You never enter another kitchen. Never cook another meal.

And never hear from Jimmy - Pale - again.

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

Tagging a couple other pals who expressed interest for some reason lol @direnightshade​ @poetic-solo​ @blackredrose27​ @find-me-with-orion​

#pale x you #pale x reader #pale/you #pale/reader #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver #adam driver character #my writing #im so sorry

[sweetiepie08]

RebelZ Chapter 6

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.  Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

Dib flipped through the streaming services, looking for something to watch. The documentary had ended, pizza had been eaten, and Gaz had gone upstairs to fix some emergency with one of her online gaming groups. He knew he had surveillance tapes waiting for him on his desk, (or worse, college applications) but he wasn’t ready to check up on them just yet. He was actually enjoying some downtime for once, and he didn’t want it to end.

Then, he heard the all-too-familiar sounds of an alien spaceship landing outside.

Nope, he thought as he hit play on whatever show he landed on. Didn’t matter what, so long as he could pretend he couldn’t hear what was going on in his driveway.

Some muffled arguing came from the front door, followed by the bell ringing. Dib turned up the volume. Not getting out of this chair.

Loud pounding began, accompanied by cries of “Dib-human! Open this door!” Dib turned the volume up as loud as it would go as the pounding continued.

“Jesus Christ, Dib!” Gaz shouted from upstairs. “Just answer the door!”

“Fine!” Dib shut off the tv and stalked to the front door. When he opened it, he found two Irken idiots.

Zim and Tak hung off each other and drank from plastic bottles while their robot pets bolted right in and made themselves at home. “Hey, you grew into your head,” Tak said, lazily pointing her claw at him.

“You know, Dib, there’s a lot of reasons to hate your planet,” Zim slurred, letting himself in. “You keep chihuahuas as pets, some of you refuse to inoculate against deadly diseases, and that Game of Thrones finale was garbage! But at least you don’t need identification to buy gingzor, and that almost makes up for it.” Zim punctuated his short rant by taking a long swig from his bottle.

“And look,” Tak said, pulling a box of ginger snaps out of a plastic shopping bag, “they had edibles.”

“Are you guys drunk? What is this?” Dib grabbed the bottle out of Zim’s hands. He checked the label, gave it a sniff, and took a small taste. Yup, it was exactly what the label said it was. “This is just ginger ale.”

“Eee-yup,” Zim said, swiping his bottle back. “Your light brews aren’t as potent as the ones we’ve got on Irk, but it gets the job done.”

“Wait, are you guys seriously telling me your species gets drunk off ginger?”

“Why?” Tak asked, shoving a cookie in her mouth. “What do humans consume when they want to forget the futility of existence?”

“Uh, alcohol, usually.”

The two Irkens locked eyes, then burst into laughter. “Seriously?” Tak squealed, wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s an antiseptic.”

“Humans really are stupid,” Zim agreed.

“Not that kind,” Dib grumbled, knowing he would be ignored. Then he felt his temper boil. “What are you two doing in my house?!”

“Oh yeah,” the two brushed past him and hopped on the couch like they owned the place. “We need to crash here for a while,” Zim explained. He turned on the tv, got blasted by an old episode of The Office, then turned the volume down.

“Why?”

“We uncovered a conspiracy behind the Irken empire and our government tried to kill us.”

“I discovered,” Tak corrected. “They just caught you harboring me.”

“Eh, details.”

“The point is,” Tak went on, “we’re both marked as traitors and we need to lay low for a while.”

Dib could have sworn his ears perked like a dog’s. An intergalactic conspiracy? There was a story here so juicy he could almost taste it. Still, as he watched the earth’s total Irken population spill ginger ale on the couch and grind crumbs into the cushions, the only question on his mind was, “why here?”

“Need your lab,” Zim tossed off as if it should have been obvious.

“So? Why don’t you go back to your base and use your own lab?”

“Can’t.” Zim took a teal cube out of his pocket and tossed it in Dib’s direction.

Dib caught it and brought it up to his eye to inspect. “What’s this?”

“My base.”

“Your whole base is in this?” Dib strained his eyes, looking at the cube. “What’s going on? How did this even happen?”

“How far back in Irken history do you want to go?” Tak asked, popping open a bottle.

“Wait, you mean you’re actually going to tell me?”

She gave a non-committal shrug. “Eh…”

“Hold on, wait right there.” Dib zipped upstairs to his room, grabbed a notebook, pen, and recorder, then zipped back down. He grabbed a chair, hit record, and poised his pen. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

[-]

Dib scribbled furiously, trying to keep up with Tak’s slurred ramblings. Zim interjected occasionally to add something or explain an Irken concept, but it was clear exactly who the conspiracy hunter was.

“So, anyway, that’s when I realized this parasite has been controlling our entire society for generations and, you know, it’s just a real buzzkill to find out you’re basically living food.”

“I see,” Dib said, making a note to ask about this library planet later (maybe get coordinates?). “And this parasite has been masquerading as the Control Brains.”

“Not ‘masquerading’ exactly,” she explained. “They always were the Control Brains.”

“And, just to make sure I got this, the Control brains are what, again?”

Before they could answer, he heard a loud “eh-he-eh-hm.” He looked over to see Gaz standing in the kitchen doorway. When he met her eyes, she curled one finger, ominously beckoning him over. “Uh, one second, guys.” He put down his pen and followed Gaz into the kitchen.

“Make this quick, Gaz,” he said, peaking back into the living room. “These two are giving me everything.”

“Okay then,” she said, her voice displaying her irritation. “Just answer me this: why are there two destructive aliens drinking like civil war amputee patients on our couch?”

“Revealing their government’s secrets, that’s what,” he answered with unbridled glee. “Turns out, ginger gets them drunk and when they’re drunk, they have no filter. They’ve been rambling on and on about their creepy big-brother-like society for an hour now. Look at all these notes.” He shoved the notebook in Gaz’s face and flipped furiously through the pages. “As long as I keep them drunk and happy, they’ll keep talking. Which reminds me…” He took out his wallet, grabbed a bill, and handed it to Gaz. “Go to the store and buy them out of ginger ale. We can’t let them sober up.”

“Five bucks?” Gaz said, wrinkling her nose. “I assume you’re planning on reimbursing me for the grocery bill later.”

“This isn’t about money, Gaz.”

“Then dig a little deeper, Scrooge. I know your part-time at Dad’s lab pays more than this.”

“And you make plenty off of your twitch gaming streams,” Dib argued. “Come on, this is about furthering human knowledge.”

Gaz raised her eyebrow in her ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ way. “You’re offering me $5 to drop everything, go to the store, and buy out their entire supply of ginger ale without reimbursing me for the bill.”

“Uh…yes?”

She scoffed. “Get a pulse.”

Dib pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the corners of his eyes. Was she seriously arguing with him about money at a time like this? “Look, what if I give you an acknowledgement when I publish this baby? Like, say, in the forward?”

“You mean the part no one reads?”

“Uh…”

Gaz let out an exasperated huff and looked into the living room at the two Irkens. “So, they’ll really ramble on and on if you stuff them full of ginger, huh? About anything?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We managed to stay on topic so far. I mean, Zim did go on a tangent about the Game of Thrones finale, but we got back on track.”

Gaz smiled. “Did he, now? About what?”

“Something about Westeros crumbling as soon as the credits rolled. I don’t know. You watched that show, not me.”

“Hmm…” Gaz murmured, looking pointedly at Zim. Oh no, she was thinking… Worse! She was plotting!

“Gaz? What are you doing?”

She threw him a wicked smirk and sauntered into the living room. “Hey, Zim!” she called, clear as a bell. “That Game of Thrones finale sucked, right?”

“Don’t even get me started, Dib-sister!” Zim called back, slapping his hand on the couch. “Zim has never seen such a staggering drop in quality!”

Dib dropped his face into his hands. Was it too late to offer a twenty?”

[-]

“I guarantee Dorne and the Iron Islands rebelled as soon as they stepped out of the Dragon Pit.” Zim said, splashing ginger ale on the couch with every gesture. “I’ll bet they only voted ‘yes’ on Bran because this would be the easiest reign to overthrow.”

“Exactly!” Gaz said, slapping the arm of her chair. “Dany promised Yara independence two seasons ago. There’s no way she’s just going to watch him hand his sister a kingdom and not demand what’s owed to her.”

Dib twisted the notebook in his hands as he listened to them rant. They’d been at this since Gaz brought up the subject.

“And what was with them acting like Dany was in the wrong for executing Varys?” Zim added. “He tried to assassinate her!”

“As if Jon didn’t execute a child a few seasons ago for the same thing. And it was obvious that kid was coerced into it by the higher-ranking Night’s Watch men.” Gaz said. “You’ll notice Dany didn’t execute the child Varys manipulated into poisoning her. And he only thought she was ‘mad’ because she stopped listening to his shitty advice.”

“Their ‘advice’ lost her the Dornish forces, the Iron Fleet, and Highgarden’s armies,” Zim agreed.

“Plus another dragon and her best friend. And when she goes into mourning, he’s all ‘Welp, she’s clearly gone mad. Time to put her down like Old Yeller.’ Oh! And what was with Tyrion’s ‘everywhere she goes, evil men die’ speech? Like that’s a bad thing? Yeah, I know. That’s why I liked her.”

“You know wat she should have done?” Zim said. “She should have flown her three dragons to the Red Keep like she wanted to do last season. She could have taken the city with fewer casualties.”

Gaz nodded in agreement. “Maybe even no casualties if King’s Landing surrenders immediately.”

“Then she’d have all three dragons and all the armies in the Seven Kingdoms to fight the White Walkers with!” Zim added.

“Yeah, then maybe there’d be enough time to make the army of the dead live up to the hype! Nice Long Night. Lasted about six hours.”

“What is this show?” Tak asked. “I want to watch.”

“Enough!” Dib burst, jumping out of his seat. “Enough Game of Thrones! If you want to keep complaining, go on the internet and do it! Now can we please get back to you two spilling the secrets of your evil intergalactic empire!”

“There are no more secrets, human,” Tak snapped. “We’ve told all. The only other information I could find is on this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a square, plastic information drive. “But this technology is too outdated to decode. So, unless you have access to an ancient computer…”

Dib took the square and held it up to his eyes. “This just looks like a floppy disc.”

“Really, Dib-beast?” Zim scoffed. “Your planet’s technology is antiquated, but it’s not that archaic.”

“Actually, that’s pretty outdated for us too,” Gaz said, “but our dad’s got a computer graveyard in the attic. Maybe we can get one of those to work.”

Tak regarded the disc suspiciously. “You’re serious? You think you might be able to get it to work.”

“It could be possible,” Dib answered, eyeballing the disc. It looked about the right size and shape. It may at least fit into the disc drive. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten Irken and Earth technology to work together. It’s worth a shot.”

[-]

After about an hour and a few trips to the attic, they found an old monitor and hard drive they managed to turn on. As the computer booted up, they compared the Irken disc drive to a standard floppy disc. Dib was right. They seemed to match up.

“You really think this has a shot?” Tak asked again. She looked skeptical they whole time the were getting set up, but as the computer whirred to life, Dib thought he could detect a hint of hope in her voice.

“It could,” Gaz answered. “If the magnetic polarity is the same as we use on earth, the computer might be able to read the disc.”

Dib nodded along. While he was good with technology, his area of expertise was more on the engineering side. Gaz was the one with an affinity for coding.

Once the computer was ready, they popped in the drive. They all gathered around the monitor and held their breath. A buffering window popped up on the screen and they let out a collective gasp.

After a few minutes, the picture went black and green Irken text scrolled up across the screen, accompanied by, what sounded to Dib, like a series of chirps, clicks, and hisses. “Um, is it supposed to be making that-”

Tak and Zim threw a sharp hiss in his direction, then went back to staring intently at the screen. When Dib quieted and listened harder, he realized the sounds came from an organic voice and had a deliberate pattern. Holy shit, it’s reading the text! This is their language!

The voice stopped and the screen froze on another set of Irken symbols.

“Oh, my…” Zim choked out, eyes still glued to the screen. “We’ve got to write that down!”

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “my tablet.”

“Wait, what was that?” Dib asked as he watched the two aliens scramble to scribble down the symbols on the screen. “Was that guy speaking Irken? What did they say?”

“Yes,” Zim answered. “And those are coordinates to the next place we need to go.”

“You mean, I need to go,” Tak cut in. “I’m the one who uncovered the conspiracy, remember?”

Zim scowled and stomped up to her, getting in her face. “You made this my problem when you crashed at my house, drank all my gingzor, and got my base cubified.”

“Why would I ever team up with you?” she shot back.

“I’m every bit as Irken as you are,” Zim argued. “I deserve answers as much as you.”

“Will someone please tell me what that thing said?” Dib shouted. The two stopped their bickering long enough to cast him an icy stare.

“Well,” Dib growled impatiently. If these two thought they were going to force their way into his home, spill ginger ale on his couch, tell him about an intergalactic conspiracy, and not let him in on the details, they had another thing coming.

“This doesn’t concern you, human,” Zim snapped.

“You two waltzed in here expecting me to hide you form your creepy totalitarian government and let you use my lab. Unless you want me to throw you out on your ass…”

“Fine, fine,” Tak said, waving an arm dismissively. “That voice claimed to be Krislotch. He confirmed that he left the clues that lead me to discover the truth about the Control Brains. He also claims more information is waiting on a planet at those coordinates. I must go there next if I want to solve this mystery.”

“We must go there,” Zim but in.

“This is my conspiracy, Zim,” Tak growled, turning back to him. “If there are more answered waiting on that planet, I will be the one to find them.”

“Oh yeah?” he said with a smirk. “How you gonna get there? I’m the only one with a working ship.”

“Dib’s got a ship,” Gaz chimed in. She turned to Tak. “Actually, I think it’s your ship.”

“You!” Before Dib could say anything, Tak had already jumped on the coffee table and grabbed his collar. “You have my ship?!”

“Uhh…”

“Take me to her!”

[-]

“wha-wha…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

They group stood in the garage and stared at the collection of barely-held-together parts, also known as Tak’s ship. Dib had to admit, his last few forays into space hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing.

“It doesn’t look like this all the time,” he tried explaining. “I’ve gotten it to work. But, you know, sometimes things happen… and when they happen, I have to convince the ship to let me fix it again.”

“And why is she blue?”

“Um… I like blue?”

“Stupid human!” Tak spat, rushing up to her ship. “You have no idea what you’ve been toying with!”

“Fine,” Dib grumbled under his breath. “Only repaired it multiple times of the last six years but whatever…”

“Ship,” Tak commanded, laying a hand on the ship’s windshield. “Respond.”

“Biosignature detected,” the ship said as it began to light up. “You are Tak.”

“Yes, yes, ship! It’s me!” she cried. Dib could almost swear there were tears in her eyes.

“Hmpf, what took you so long?”

Tak looked taken aback. “I was, uh, had a lot going on, you know? Schemes and such?”

“And you never once thought to check in on your ship?”

“When I have to eject, I thought I’d lost you forever,” Tak explained, pressing both hands on the windshield. “I never wanted to leave you behind, but I’m here now. I can take you back.”

“Hey, wait a minute…” Dib protested. He started forward, but Gaz pulled him back.

“It’s her ship, dummy.”

“And how exactly did you get here?” Ship went on.

Tak hesitated. “Well, I…”

“I knew it,” Ship huffed. “You have a new ship now, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that,” Tak insisted. “Yes, I needed a new ship to get around, but I swear, it was a simple matter of transport. That ship means nothing to me. I would trade every other ship in the universe for you.”

The ship went quiet, as if thinking it over. Dib found himself oddly captivated, like when he’d accidently get sucked into his grandmother’s soap operas. He quickly shook himself out of it. This is ridiculous. She’s talking to a ship.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Ship finally said.

“I promise, Ship, I will fix you myself and, after that, I will never even look at another ship again.” She gently caressed its side and the engines purred.

“I will allow you to repair me, for now. After that, perhaps I can allow you to pilot me again, in time.”

Tak smiled and continued to pet her ship while it continued to purr. The scene was almost sweet until Zim decided to break it up.

“Well, well, well,” Zim said, a smug smile on his face, “looks like I’m the only one here with an operational ship.”

Tak only hissed in response.

“So, I guess I’ll be taking those coordinates and be on my way,” he continued, “unless someone wants to grovel for the chance to accompany me.”

Tak stomped up to Zim and unleashed a cavalcade of Irken at him. Dib wasn’t sure what she said, but if cricket/bat/snake could cuss someone out, he imagined it’d sound something like that.

“Okay,” Zim squeaked out, looking up at Tak who now towered over him. “I suppose I could let you come, but only because you asked so nicely.”

“I’m coming too,” Dib declared.

Tak and Zim both turned to him with questioning looks on their faces. “Uh, what?” Zim said.

“I’m coming. I want to see what’s on that planet, too.”

“This doesn’t concern you, human,” Tak spat.

“Excuse me? Who’s house are you two crashing at? Who’s ancient computer did you use to get those coordinates? And who’s been keeping your ship running while you’ve been got?”

“We don’t need-” Zim started, but Dib cut him off.

“Yes you do,” he shot back. “You need my lab to get your base working again. You said so yourself. And Tak, you need my garage and my tools if you’re going to fix your ship. If you want to stay here and use my equipment, to fix your stuff, you need to let me in on the conspiracy.”

The two Irkens looked at each other intently, as if holding a telepathic conversation. Dib briefly wondered if they could communicate semi-telepathically, or at least through pheromones. They did have antenna after all.

Finally, they broke their stare down and turned back to Dib. “Fine, the Dib can come,” Zim conceded.

Dib felt a jolt of excitement jump through his body. “Yeah, Gaz and I-”

“Nope,” Gaz said, turning on her heals and heading back inside.

Okay, so no Gaz. Aw well, he could at least count on her to cover for him while he’s gone. “I will get my space travel equipment and be ready to leave within the hour.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Zim said, and he and Tak headed back inside as well. Dib went further into the garage and began preparing the things he’s need for the trip.

“You’re seriously going to let him come along?” Tak asked as they walked away.

“Eh,” Zim said with a shrug. “If the Dib-worm wants to come to a dead planet where total species-wide genocide took place, let him.”

Dib let the helmet he’d been holding clang to the floor. “Wait, what?”

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[gaarasgoddess]

The Blacksmith’s Daughter

What happens when a fallen daughter meets a rising son? What happens when they discover that fate had more in store for them than the lives they’d planned? Japan’s medieval, Edo Period is the background as Gaara and Sakura miss each other in a series of missed connections only to fall into each other hard.

Notes: Definition from google: “Medieval Japan is characterised by a decentralised government, warfare, and the rise of a powerful warrior class. Fighting was a way of life for the men and women and politics was as changing as a fire’s breath.”

Her parentage was never in question. Sakura was the fifteenth daughter born to the Emperor of Japan. She was the only daughter of a noblewoman who had been sold to the Emperor when her father couldn’t pay his debt. A woman who had failed to produce any more offspring since.

It was a fact. That was who she was. Who she was told never to forget.

And so she believed for eighteen years of being prepped for a marriage to some unknown man, whichever suitor her father decided brought him the most money or power. She learned her kanji, her cursive, her history, her airs and pomp, and her manners. Anything that would be needed to attract a high placed family to want to welcome her into theirs, was taught to her.

She said “yes” to a stranger. To a man she would spend her life with. A man that refused to meet her until then. But she would do her duty. She would wait for him.

In the meantime, her father saw fit to send her to the allied camps to learn to heal. To learn to take care of people. She already knew how to serve her future husband and what to expect when she moved to his land to begin her new life. For now her present was spent tending to the injuries of soldiers who fought and died to keep her father’s control of this land in his own hands. She got a taste of what life was supposed to be about.

With war and death rampant in the country, the shoguns fought over who had dominion where and who deserved to. The Emperor was just a figure head but he was an important one. He spent his days in meetings and adding this pomp and stature in the eyes of the lowly, commoners, and his nights whoring - with whores and wives. Sakura had so many siblings she didn’t think it meant anything who she was, really. Or him. The father who didn’t care about appearances.

And who had no control over what was coming.

.x.

He was the son of a whore. The devil didn’t care about gender. His father was a whore. It didn’t matter that he carried the title of shogun. It didn’t matter that he was well respected. It only mattered that the man deserved to die.

Gaara caught him fucking the servant girls on a weekly basis and a noblewoman’s daughter - or two - every other week. Rasa didn’t bother to hide it anymore. His wife was expected to not care. But his children hated him for it.

Gaara grew up respecting this man; he wanted to be just like him and signed up to become a samurai, as his father had done in his youth, without a second thought. He wanted to get married once he turned eighteen, like his father did, and carry on the tradition of moving into politics and teaching everything he’d learnt to his children. He wanted to matter.

But on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he’d had enough. Gaara packed his bags and enlisted with the regular army and didn’t look back. His father didn’t bother trying to stop him but said he had to return to marry some rich man’s wife in two years.

Not happening.

He never bothered to ask what the girl’s name was. Nor to attend the meetings that had been organised between them. He should get to know her, his mother said, and he almost yelled back “like father is getting to know the servants?”. Almost. She was to be pitied and he did. His father was a whore and a cunt.

But he couldn’t bare to watch her suffer Rasa’s indiscretions. So he left and didn’t look back. His siblings went their own way too, also disgusted.

That was a decision he’d never regretted. Until the day he met the blacksmith’s daughter and decided fate was indeed a fickle bitch.

.x.

Sakura wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before standing and stretching. The last group of soldiers had been hit by enemy arrows in a final attempt to rule the battlefield and were full of holes for their troubles. She’d been on her feet all night.

After years of tutelage, she was almost ready to be allowed to return home. She enjoyed healing people and was not looking forward to returning to the noble court. Her mother’s latest letter had her afraid of what awaited her. She wasn’t ill but talked as though her days were numbered. It made her want to rush to her side but it also left her fearful for her own well being.

Mebuki spoke of assassination attempts and having betrayed her Emperor. That she was going to hell for what she’d done. The raving comments also told Sakura that she was in danger.

‘Don’t come here.’ She wrote. But it made no sense.

“Lady Sakura?”

She started before smiling at her newest patient. Sakura smiled widely at him. “Lord Kankuro, you need to rest.”

He scoffed, failing to sit up in his cot. “I’m fine.”

“Your arm was infected and you’ve been unconscious for days,“ she said, fussing over his bandages.

“You sound like my mother,” he mummbled. And she tutted at him. “Are you busy after this?”

“Huh?” She frowned at him, confused.

“Uh,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not coming onto you, I promise. It’s just, I asked out a cute nurse and she turned me down but if she thought it was a group thing… never mind forget I asked.”

Sakura glanced at the nurse in question when Kankuro looked over at her. She was one of the new recruits who barely knew anything about medicine. Called Matsuri, or something. Sakura also knew that Matsuri was crushing on some other soldier who apparently refused to give her the time of day and had transferred out of this med-tent when the brunette girl wouldn’t stop following him around. Kankuro might be just what she needed, since the rejection from the other soldier had affected her performance in surgery.

Sakura sighed. “I’ll get her in the mess tent and you can bump into us.”

“Thanks, Saku-chan.” He grinned.

She shook her head. “And don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Saks.”

She poked him.

“Okay, okay.”

.x.

Gaara left the tent for two reasons. One: that Matsuri chick was getting on his nerves. Two: the flush of embarrassment he felt when he spotted his brother. He was talking to some pink haired physician and the brothers had not spoken for years. He knew Kankuro had enlisted but didn’t give it much thought, since he kept to himself and took on the more dangerous missions. And he remembered his brother as hating conflict. But so much seemed to have changed.

Pink hair.

Something stirred in his memory but he brushed it aside.

“We’re heading out.” Baki, his commanding officer, hollered at him.

Gaara took a last look at the laughing man he’d once called brother (his eyes drifting over the pretty physician) before following Baki. The redhead had risen in the ranks so fast because of his power and prowess that even the General had stood to attention. The strange man that had connections to nobles and warriors alike.

The Emperor’s favoured mass killer.

.x.

A month of blood stuck to his skin. Gaara didn’t wash except to trek through streams. He smelled like the country side. It made for decent cover as he slinked into the shadows and pounced from bushes and hovels to kill his targets.

He’d become an assassin. After Baki’s death and word spreading of the decimation of his entire platoon, he was reassigned to the darker, specialised killers. He wasn’t a ninja. He wasn’t one of them. But he drew as much blood as they did. He killed like he’d been born to it. Gone were the concerns over the brother and sister he’d left behind. The mother who had passed to illness in the last winter.

Six months ago he’d avoided Kankuro in a medical tent and now he stood, face-to-face with the man, unable to hide his true intentions. He’d been sent here to assist with a platoon that was trying to take out a rival shogun’s family. They needed this family dead. They needed someone who could disappear into the shoin-zukuri in shadow and slit those throats without raising any alarms.

His father needed to appear to have clean hands in their deaths.

Times were changing and the old man was losing control. These enemies needed to die. And so they did. Gaara emerged from their home, covered in blood. He faced down his brother - the man who greeted him and thanked him for his service as though they hadn’t once occupied the same womb.

Gaara’s grip on his sword was tenuous even as he gripped it tighter. How he wanted to just charge the stranger in front of him. To show him who it was that deserved to be in the light and put the dark behind him. But then a mousy girl came out of the tent behind Kankuro.

His wife.

Matsuri had given into him after all. And her belly was full of his brother’s child. She watched on at the silent exchange as though she had never followed Gaara around hoping to be the one to carry his children.

Who cares?

But it made him wonder if someone could. If the monster he’d become could have that. So his hand slacked and he lowered his weapon. This was not worth the aching in his heart. It was time to choose his fate and he refused to die here.

Gaara turned and fled back to the dark. Back into the pain of his life.

.x.

Her return home had not been the horror story Sakura had feared. Though she wished she’d not returned at all. She’d stood at the walls and contemplated fleeing her future. The man who’d been her betrothed had been killed in battle, she said. He was a stain on the memory of her family, so she was to pretend he’d never existed.

But she’d also heard rumours he’d simply defected. A runaway and potentially a traitor. The son rose high and she’d been falling from herself so far. Sakura could not climb the wall in front of her. So she let the guards usher her inside. To see her mother’s corpse. The accident had been tragic they said. The poor woman died so suddenly they claimed. How sad.

Sakura did not spend much time in the presence of the body but even she had seen how only poison could make those pink lips turn so blood red. But what was she to do? She questioned the mortician. She asked to see the autopsy report. But nothing came of it. At last, her father sent an official to inform her she was being sent out again.

Where you’ll cause less fuss.

And this was how she descended into infamy.

.x.

Sakura did not correspond with Kankuro and Matsuri after that first time they’d spent together. She helped him woo the girl and got out of there. Apparently, the man the brunette had liked was determined to ignore her and had gained a reputation for being blood thirsty, which was unbecoming of his noble status. No good was going to come of it.

She wasn’t even invited to the wedding.

But she didn’t care. Sakura returned to the medical tents and threw herself into the work. But she knew she couldn’t keep this up for long. Soldiers would give her strange looks. Shogun under her knife would not call her Lady anymore when she visited them in recovery. And every night she sensed the hidden follower when she returned to her tent. Someone had decided she was trouble. What she could have done, other than question the healers back home, she didn’t know.

But time was getting short as she started to get called into the med tent less and less. She was not as needed as before. She was getting a bad feeling. Rumours of how the war was turning away from her Shogun had her worried. Perhaps the children of the Emperor were being watched more closely? But nobody here should know who she was. She was just supposed to be another noble, not royalty.

Her surgery talents were being wasted.

After overhearing her superior talking to a soldier about transferring her to the front line to get rid of her, Sakura had had enough. She decided to take things into her own hands.

.x.

He followed the girl as she began packing and making her excuses to the soldiers that she was going for a run to get rid of hospital scrubs. He watched as she stole a horse and rode away as though the devil were on her tail. He was tempted to follow. So desperately so, that Gaara didn’t bother questioning that urge. He took his horse and rode into the darkness of the night that surrounded the camp.

Pink hair.

She was the same healer who had helped his brother. The one who’d given Kankuro his happy ending with Matsuri. It had to mean something that he’d been assigned to watch her, and kill her if she tried to flee.

.x.

They did not get far. Sakura and the horse she’d dubbed Shugo. A dark brown pedigree that she’d pushed to its limits in the span of the night. The devil was on her tail. But a day had passed and already she had to sell it for supplies. She needed to go incognito and figure out her next move. Sakura had no idea how to live as a peasant but she’d dealt with harsh circumstances before. Living as a physician in the middle of a war was not the lap of luxury of her former home of course.

And still she felt the weight of eyes on her like that shadow from the camp would not leave her alone. Something or someone was following her and she needed to get out of the open. Dyeing her hair and offering her services as a weaver seemed the sensible thing to do. Nobody noticed the dark haired girl walking among a crowd of similarly dark haired girls.

A month later she was still being hounded by the darkness of her shadow and no amount of companionship from those she met and dallied with could throw off her feeling of being hunted. But the hunter did nothing. And she was letting everything go.

One day, her lowered guard would be the best of her.

.x.

He enjoyed watching her. She was his target but her desire to run from the same life he abhorred kept his knife in its sheathe. It kept his eyes feasting on her flesh instead of tearing into it with a weapon that he still wanted to use.

Gaara did not need to kill to survive. He was beginning to realise that. So he decided to take her lead and ingratiate himself into this new world. He found a dwelling and scrubbed the smell of the land from his body. It seemed to take months to finally be free of the blood. But nobody knew how much was still on him more than he did. It would be there forever.

But he finally looked like he belonged the day he purposefully, accidentally ran into her, knocking her groceries to the ground.

This was how the woman came to know him. She had been going by the name Amaya but introduced herself as Sakura the moment he asked. They both looked surprised at this and she realised who he was the moment he smirked, his canines almost looking like they were dripping in blood.

Her heart beat raced. Her palms were sweaty. Her eyes were wide.

But all he did was bow to her and offer his help in picking up her dropped supplies. All he did was ask her to allow him to pay for her dinner. All he did was touch her softly, carefully, to make sure she knew what he wanted from her.

And Sakura had no idea why she gave it to him. Waves of blinding light and rocking motions and crashing against each other; humming and moaning and joining and she was his. They came together in so many perfect ways. She didn’t question why her shadow decided to love her instead of kill her. She was lost to the pleasure and the touches that gave her reason to let go.

To just let go.

.x.

News of her father’s death and his father’s brutal murder did nothing to stir them.

Sakura just smiled as the local gossip spread the news and the official reports came in. As though she were just another citizen. A dark haired girl who used to be pink.

Gaara helped her to her feet and they wandered out of the temple where they’d finally made their life official. Nothing else mattered. Their pasts were fake and they had their eyes on the future, instead.

That’s how he became just some random farmer travelling into the area with his pregnant wife. And that’s how she became the Blacksmith’s Daughter travelling into the new area, pregnant and looking to start a fresh life with her new husband.

.x.

#gaasaku #gaara x sakura #my story #gaasaku-fanfests #2020 GaaSaku Free-for-All

[traitorousheroes]

in the hands of a Goddess

Notes: I originally wrote this little ficlet back in June of 2016. Obviously it’s been awhile since I even worked on it, but I figured I should post ficlets in order to get myself back in the writing habit. The basic gist is my personal headcanon that Syldor worked for the Raven Queen before Vax ever did (something to do with Vax’s Fate-Touched status). IDK, I know this probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea (because Syldor is a terrible father) but I like adding a little more nuance to characters if I can. Also, skamelar is an Old English word for parasite, if anyone gets confused. Enjoy!

At eighty-five years of age, he became Her steward.

This was not how his life was supposed to turn out. 

“Skamelar,” he hissed, ducking under the talons of the scowling vampire. The nails scraped against his blade, throwing a shower of sparks into his face. The flash of light made him blink, giving the second strike of the creature purchase against his shoulder. The vampire’s snarl turned gleeful as he brought the bloodied nails to his mouth. 

“Elf,” the vampire replied, sucking his finger clean. “So far from your home. What calls you to my domain?”

“One higher than you,” Syldor replied, holding his twin short swords at the ready. 

The creature tilted his head, examining him. Then, as if realizing a joke, he laughed. Syldor tightened his grip on his blades, before forcing himself to relax. The vampire tried to circle him, but it was easy enough to keep him in view.

“Another paladin, then?” the vampire asked. “Come to avenge your fallen brethren?”

The image of a woman, armored in black plate, came unbidden to Syldor’s mind. Her eyes, dark grey in life but clouded white in death, had stared unseeingly into the morning light. The people of the town, Wrettis, had been all too willing to point him in the direction that the travelling stranger had gone. He had barely passed within the treeline before finding her body, tossed aside like refuse for the forest to claim. 

“She was no kin to me,” said Syldor. 

That, in and of itself, was true enough. He was no paladin, no warrior bound to a sacred oath. Nor was he a cleric, the arcane magic that flowed from his fingers in direct contrast to what they would wield. Priest was not the correct term either, since he wielded a blade with far more lethality than temple service would ever require. The title bestowed on him, however, was one that he could not refuse.

“Then why stand by the body for five days?” the vampire asked, swinging a claw at his guard.

 Syldor blocked it with an ease that did nothing to betray his weariness. The vampire stepped back, the slightest hint of a limp on his right side. Considering that they had been trading blows with neither side earning a significant hit, the limp was from another wound. Perhaps a parting gift from the deceased paladin, or another older wound that had not healed well.

“My Lady commanded it,” he said. 

“Your Lady,” the creature mocked him. “You serve the same patron as her, then. The one she cried to as I drained the life from her body. She wouldn’t stop praying for her intercession. I suppose Her Raven Majesty didn’t care much for her, in the end.”

Syldor struck out at the insult to the dead woman. He scored a graze against the monster’s chest, a line of dark, almost black, crimson bubbling up from the leathers. The vampire snarled, his fangs catching the light of the waning moon. Rather than wait for him to attack again, Syldor rallied and struck. The edge of his blade sunk into the flesh of the creature’s neck, slicing harmlessly in a shallow gash across his throat.

“Even if you spoke truth, I would see you dead in justice for her,” he replied. “Do not mock the dead, skamelar, for their Queen sees you for what you are.”

“And what would that be?” the vampire asked. He reached for Syldor again, only to have his reaching claws batted away by the flat of the blades.

“One who steals life from those who hold it still. One who steals the lives of children in the night, leaving them cold and bloodless in their beds.”

The edges of the vampire’s lips curled up at the charges laid before it. “There are others who do worse than I, elf. Leave me at peace here and hunt them instead.”

Syldor shook his head slightly. The vampire sighed, although the feral gleam in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts on the matter. He dashed forward, grabbing Syldor’s right arm and trapping it between them. His foul breath made Syldor recoil just far enough to escape the fangs that struck for his throat. As he looked down on the miserable creature, Syldor flicked his left hand up, the blade finding purchase again in the vampire’s throat. 

This time there was no chance for him to escape. Reversing his grip, Syldor pushed the blade against the wound. Blackened blood streamed from the gash and splashed on both of them. His strength waning as the blood continued to pour, the vampire released his right arm. He scrabbled at the blade embedded in his throat, but it was a useless effort. Dropping the sword in his right hand, Syldor grabbed his left handed blade, and used the extra power to saw through the remains of the vampire’s neck.

The head dropped to the ground as the body collapsed. The eyes twitched as Syldor watched, before the expression fell slack and the creature truly died. The fact that the creature had not collapsed into a gaseous state in a bid to escape spoke to its youth. Syldor let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping forward as the exhaustion from the fight crept up his limbs. Reaching down, he grabbed the head by the hair, letting it swing in the air. It was more of an effort to get a hold on the leather-clad body, but soon enough he had a good grip on it. 

Dawn was cresting over the farmlands when he made his way back to Wrettis. Those who went to tend the fields fled back towards the town when they saw him. Syldor paid them no mind, dragging the corpse to the temple district of the town. A priestess, robed and veiled in black, met him at the entrance with a small bow. It was the warmest greeting he had gotten since entering the town five, now six, days before.

“I learned of your victory a few hours ago, Steward,” the woman said. 

“I have done as She asked,” Syldor replied as the priestess fell into step beside him. “As I always will.”

She nodded, and he had the faintest idea that she was smiling behind the veil.“Perhaps.”

The rest of their short walk was made in silence. The woman, as most of her fellow temple priests and priestesses, did not seem uncomfortable by the lack of conversation. The quiet was useful to him as well, letting him organize his thoughts and affairs.

Those of Syngorn would wonder at his sudden departure. It had taken less than two days to reach Wrettis from the elven city, but what he had found and the task that had passed to him had extended his leave beyond what was normal. They would question his absence, considering the others that had occurred since his eighty-fifth year. While not prone to gossip, some of the more fanciful of his people had concocted tales of a woman he held dear outside the walls of their city. Instead of denying their claims, Syldor let them talk, allowing their childish stories to cloud the true reason for his leavings.

“Your mind is troubled,” the priestess said as they mounted the steps to the small temple. The body, dragged as it had been across the fields and the city streets, was easy enough to pull into the doors of the temple.

“It is nothing to trouble yourself with, my lady.”

“I will always listen if you have need, Steward,” she said. 

Syldor stopped, watching the woman as she continued to walk forward. Her gait did not falter, but now that he was paying attention, he noticed that her footfalls made no sound against the stone. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as she came to a halt before the altar. She turned back towards him, her face hidden behind the veil. Taking a deep breath, Syldor forced himself forward. 

“He was a stablehand,” the not-priestess told him as he laid the body on the altar. “Thom was his name. He used to ride and break the horses for one of the stables in Wrettis, until one of them broke him. It shattered his leg like glass, and he lost his one true joy in life.”

Syldor looked at her from the corner of his eye. The not-priestess had her hand cupped against the vampire’s cheek, the gesture almost looking like pity that echoed in her voice. With a sigh, she dropped her hand and lifted her head to look at him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She chuckled, and again Syldor got the impression that she was smiling at him. “My Steward, do you not recognize me?”

“My Lady?” Syldor said. Again, the feeling that the woman behind the veil was smiling at him. 

“You have done well, my Steward,” the Raven Queen said. “And you have done more than I would have asked.”

“I fulfilled my duties.”

“Your duties did not include standing watch over the body of my warrior,” she said. “And yet you did anyway.”

“There was no one else,” he said. 

“And yet you could have pushed the duty onto one of the priests, but did not. Your compassion reveals itself in the strangest of ways.”

“It was my duty.”

“As you say,” the Raven Queen acquiesced. “Your duties have been fulfilled. You are free until I have need of you again.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Syldor said, bowing at the waist. 

By the time he glanced upwards, she was gone, leaving nothing but a single raven’s feather on the breast bone of the corpse. It was the work of a few minutes to light the pyre, and Syldor watched the creature’s corpse burn, even as his mind turned towards home.

#critical role #vox machina #syldor vessar #the raven queen #thwrites

[thecomfywriter]

The streets of the Middle Ring familiarized Evan through the scents of spices and flavours. It was intoxicating to walk through the fumes of cooking smokes and powders more aromatic than the expensive perfumes that polluted the air of the Upper Ring.

Faer smiled at him, keeping her gaze polite and fixated on the road beyond them. Her eyes scanned their surroundings, peaked up at the smallest change in detail like the erection of a cat’s ears amongst danger.

“I thought you were comfortable in the Middle Ring,” Evan conversed, entertained by the way she shifted around in her stalk, always glancing around in what could’ve been mistaken as paranoia. But Evan knew better than to make such a mistake.

“I am. Not when Khos ja is by my side.”

“How many times must I tell you? I do not need protecting.”

“Might I remind you of the previous attempts on your life, Khos ja?”

“And might I remind you, Faer, that I had rescued myself during those attempts.”

She let out a small chuckle under her breath. “No regard for your guards, I see.”

He blew a strand of hair out of his face, giving her a side eye. “I have plenty of regard for my guards, mind you.”

“Is that so? Could you name them for me?”

“I could give you their address and their favourite colours if you asked,” he retorted quickly, just as they turned the corner into the section of cramped houses and smaller streets. His proximity to his shifty-eyed bodyguard increased as the stream of the crowd pushed them together. While he paid no attention to the change at first, it was when Faer deliberately pulled away from the most accidental of touching that he noticed her aversion.

The notice sullied his expression, even with the lighthearted chime of her laughter. “So much care from a Khos ja? I wouldn’t have expected it from anyone but you.”

“And so much dedication to the no-touching rule from you?” He added, unable to point out what he knew the answer to. Evan couldn’t blame her for her avoidance, but it still hurt nevertheless, always reminding him of the barriers in their friendship.

Faer stopped her glancing to look in his direction, soaking in the seriousness of his countenance before replying in her formal Hellash voice. It was a voice of reminder. Of reprimansion.

“You are a Singer, Khos ja. I am not permitted to touch you, even accidentally. I apologize for any offences these laws have placed upon you, but these are my duties as your guard of Hellash.”

He nodded, trying to dissuade himself from his unjustified upset. Shaking his head, he pointed out a distant performer, who spun around in a cloud of smoke and mist while the whistle and flute of Boaar played.

“Faer, do you know how to dance?”

Her brow cocked up with the hint of her smile. “I learned, as we all do in schoolings.”

“Are you any good at it?” he asked slyly, trying to imagine the rigid guard that walked beside him letting herself loose to the music.

“Only when I’m dancing with you,” she laughed, looking over her shoulder to gage Evan’s reaction. He couldn’t help the twitch in his lip, nor the kiss of his teeth as he recalled all the tournaments that they won together, first competing against each other in a tease of shifting victory before finally working alongside one another.

“A dance of swords?”

“The only dance I know well, Khos ja.”

Her grin played behind his lids, even after she turned away to look at the turning roads. Internally, he couldn’t help but beam himself. Their victories made a name for them, giving them a forged reputation of the dancing champions. The tides of triumph. The dagger and the sword.

“In that case, I am honoured to be your dance partner.” After seeing the satisfaction in her face, he added. “Even if I’ve had better partners…”

She snorted. “Perhaps in your fantasies, but on stage, everyone knows you always dance alone, Khos ja. It’s a wonder why… Do you understand how many are willing to sweep you off your feet?”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Left or right?” He interrupted himself, pointing at the two diverging paths. She pointed right and they continued down the road, closing the cramping streets of the lower ring. “I just choose not to dance with them.”

“Is that so? And why is that?” She asked, leading him under a bridge that connected two stacked apartments together. “Are none worthy enough to dance with the great, acclaimed Golden Boy himself?”

At the familiar nickname, a small chuckle escaped him, surprising the both of them as it left his lips. It was gracious, as pretty and delicate as a fluttering feather in the wind, yet held the depth and sultry tones of bonfire-scented clothing. It was a laugh that smoked the nostrils and burned the throat in desire. Neither of them said anything about his small laughter, though their thoughts raced in their eyes.

“No, that’s not it. Is that how you perceive me, Faer? And here I thought we were getting to know each other better.” He shook his head in mock disappointment, making burn noises with his tongue.

Faer swatted the air, the shadows of her fingertips barely grazing the silky cloth of his tunic. She rolled her eyes, slowing her pace as they neared their destination. The crowd of beggars awaited them with open arms, as Evan and Faer stocked their pouches with food to give and share.

“Then why so?”

He shrugged, paying more attention to the priest he served bread to. As they made their way down the line, serving food, Evan tucked his awkwardness in his service, trying to curate a response rather than admit the real reason he refused to dance. “I suppose that is my concern to worry about, and your curiosity to wonder.”

She laughed. “Bold of you to assume I will think of you so long. In honesty, Khos ja, you hardly cross my mind more than twice a day.”

“Only because you spend every waking hour in my company.”

“It is my job.”

“No, it is your insistence,” he corrected.

“So would you prefer I not spend so much time with you then? Are you implying you’d rather you spend your time without me?”

“I implied no such thing. In fact, I’d find my day quite boring without you by my side.”

She rolled her eyes once more, smirking as she did. “Such dependency.”

“What will you do with me?” he faked an exasperated sigh, giving her his puppy dog eyes.

“Ship you off to another guard. Make them your problem instead of mine.”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t knock at your door anyways.”

“Are you so desperate for my company, Khos ja? I do suppose I am that charming.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Faer.” He passed by her, throwing her a glance as he did, kissing his teeth. “I just don’t have to pay you.”

#book #fantasy #wip #fiction #high fantasy #writers #dragons #writing #magic #amwriting #current wip #novel writing #novel excerpt #novel #excerpt from my wip #book excerpt #excerpt #excerpt from a book i'm writing

[nomediaplay]

What is the difference between a handshake event and a fan sign?

eh, ok, I will try to quickly explain how things work:

Korean “fan-sign” such as done by SM etc:Normally for 100 fans and lasts about 1 hour. Sometimes it’s held in a space where public can watch (like malls) but usually it’s held in a closed small hall. The 100 fans sits as audience, and in turn go up to a table and meet member after member then go back to their seat. They get like 30 seconds per member to sign something and ask something. 100 fans x 30 seconds = 50 minutes it’s over quite quick. The event is done in cooperation with 1 single CD store. For example, every CD sold during Monday-Wednesday in that one store is a ticket to the draw made to be 1 of 100 to participate in the Saturday event. Many fans will purchase from that specific store, so maybe they sell 10,000 CDs in those 3 days and 100 will be given event tickets (typically announcing winners on maybe Friday). SM acts will normally do these events right after music shows. Like, if SBS Inkigayo ends at 17:00, the artists get a few minutes to go to the restroom and then they go right next to the fansign venue in their stage outfits/makeup for an event starting 18:00 before being done for the day. Rookie acts will typically do loads of such events. Established acts will just do like 3 events. They’d rather not do any at all, but if they’re not completely brainless they’ll understand that doing 3 such meeting events per year actually is a very effortless way to personally meet fans.

Japanese “high five events” (as done by many acts, such as JYP acts in Japan and most Japanese idols):Events are typically held in 2-6 cities on different days. All events are basically all day events in big halls/venues. Every single CD (no matter where you buy it and when (as long as you get it before the event)) contains a card that is the ticket to do a “high five” with the 1 member stated on the card. As in literally a “high-five” that takes 1 second to do. The ticket is valid in any city/event but only for one single high-five with that specific member. You can buy hundreds of CDs to get hundreds of tickets and try collect tickets for your favorite member. But all events are “first come, first serve” with separate lines to all members so after using 1 of your tickets for a 1 second high-five you must run back to again stand last in the line to meet a new member (or the same member again).

Japanese “hand shake events” (as done by all XXX4X events):These are basically the same as above, but (1) you get more like 8 seconds rather than 1 second per ticket and (2) you literally pre-order which member you want to meet when and where. As in, you have to pre-order CDs on a specific site and at the same time you book a specific time slot for your “hand-shake”.As in member AAA may have a 1 hour 15 minutes time slot between 14:00 and 15:15 on a Friday, and there are 500 CDs/tickets available for that slot. Each member might (depending on popularity) have 1~40 such “slots” in different cities on different days (but normally multiple slots per day in one city). And basically, if you alone go buy all the 500 CDs for one slot, then you basically have the entire 1 hour 15 minutes for yourself to meet your idol. Now obviously, for the really popular members it will typically be restricted so that one person can only buy max 20 CDs/tickets per slot (= no more than say 2 minutes of meeting time). But obviously that same stalker fan can buy CDs/tickets to many different slots.

The most extreme Japanese idol groups like XXX4X… Most of their CD sales are from their own online store to book “hand shake event tickets”. But all of their “normal” CDs sold in other stores instead contain tickets for “high five events” or similar. So their crazy fans go buy hundreds of CDs both from the XXX4X online store and from other stores.

Then obviously now and then “idols” and actors hold fan-meetings which literally are just extremely half-arsed concerts to which fans buy tickets as if it was a concert in order to say “ooooaaawwwhhh oppppaaarrrr” when oppar can’t even be bothered to perform.

Why girl groups don’t do Fanmeeting?

Well, there are dual reasons:

If you watch any male idol fan meeting (no matter what format from above) you’ll immediately see that every single attendee is a completely brainless zombie girl who has absolutely no interest in any actual music or performance but who is only interested in the public persona he is (because she is a brainless zombie). Female celebrities would typically not have such brainless zombie fans paying money for nothing.

Secondly, even if there would be a 17 y/o girl attracting hordes of 50 y/o men to pay to meet her… If she had any self respect whatsoever she’d refuse to do that. Now obviously the lines are very blurred between the Japanese idol girl industry and the Japanese AV industry… But why would any serious person want to be a Japanese idol???

Do you think Spotify will a have a fighting against Melon and the rest in korea?

Eh, the question is kind of dumb. Korea was pretty much the country worst hit by piracy in the world. The legal music market died completely. When ILLEGAL services like Melon and Soribada eventually had to become legal and start paying rights-holders for music, that was still very small amounts. It’s been growing since and today it’s regulated by law that they have to pay something like 54% of revenue to right-holders. Spotify on the other hand pays over 70% of revenue to right-holders. So… Right holders giving licenses to Melon is just exclusive for Korea. That’s why it’s illegal for Melon to allow people outside Korea to stream on Melon. While foreign services can’t really enter Korea, because rights holders wouldn’t approve of such low shares on Spotify and then Spotify would have to charge a much higher subscription price than local services in Korea so nobody in Korea would pay for Spotify. Not gonna change until ratios in Korea are raised more in line with international ratios.

How much sajaegi do you think happens on the Korean digital charts?

None of significance. As said before. I find it mind-boggling that people somehow still don’t understand that streaming a song is free and streaming services are interlinked with SNS, and instead people somehow still try to compare streaming data with when people actually had to physically go to a music store and buy a physical disc for $20 USD per disc. It’s not the same. Nowhere near the same.

Talk about trainee debt.

Not sure what I’m supposed to say. Trainees in any serious agencies don’t have trainee debt (as long as they fulfill their trainee contracts). It should kind of go without having to explain that the whole purpose of doing an audition is to show the agency that you actually have the raw talent required to make it in order to persuade them to invest money in training you (and then you’ll split the profit you make as a celebrity if you succeed per the contract you agree on). Now obviously there will be countless of shit agencies without money that can’t pay for training and will try make trainees agree to pay for training, and there will be countless of shit wannabe celebrities that don’t get accepted by proper agencies that still are desperate to try become celebrities and proceed to sign such deals.

What do you think about JYP and how they pay their singers? Is the margin for the “management” segment reasonable for their groups?

Not sure what you expect. Clearly all JYP celebrities throughout history are talentless puppets just humming to JYP’s basic but addictive melodies. Not sure why any JYP singer ever would possibly deserve to be paid more than minimum wage since they contribute nothing.

Even though bigbang have a concert attendance as high as tvxq, they do not seem to bring the same amount of revenue.

BIGBANG had much bigger attendance and MUCH MUCH bigger revenue than TVXQ ever did in a year or two. Not in Japan, but total, when they did their MADE/0TO10/MADE-VIP in 2015/16.

twitter* com/neoliveson/status/1131957008918306816 do you think this petition is gonna work?

Some tragic useless old man is trying to make youtube ad-money from all of BTS’ fangirls??? Color me surprised.

Will YG and JYP ever pay for their crimes?

Pretty sure they’ve not committed any (serious) crimes by law. Maybe you’ve somehow missed it, but during the last 20 years pretty much the entire world has been swept by political liberal influences with the goal that nobody should ever have to be responsible for anything. If you’re a “kpop-fan”, it’s probably very safe to assume that you’re in fact one of those to blame for this liberal fuctardism. No, you can’t both have your cake and eat it.

Look it up this video 아이돌 QnA 2탄! 궁금증 해결! [ENG].

Wayland Q&A part 2? I watched it and I’m not sure what you’re surprised with.

Are BigBang and TVXQ in the same level of recognition as Arashi in Japan?

Not sure if serious or trolling. TVXQ has possibly like half the recognition of Arashi. BIGBANG much less than that. Besides, all the members of Arashi (and SMAP) are extremely well known individually.

Is Blackpink the biggest GG right now or it is mostly mediaplay from YG?

Not really sure what I’m supposed to say. Pop groups overall has been pretty much dead for the last 20 years outside Korea/Japan. So being “the biggest GG right now” isn’t really that much of a feat. Secondly… “or is it mediaplay from YG”… I’m not sure if to laugh or cry. They’re ACTUALLY BIG BECAUSE OF YG’S MEDIAPLAY that you’ve swallowed long ago. That’s the whole point of mediaplay. All you dumb girls all around the world swarm around anyone who’s painted as big in media/SNS. YG is the masters of making you dumbfucks become “fans” of their puppets.

Why Japanese concert tickets are cheap in comparison to other countries?

Uhh, it’s a bit difficult to understand for me too. I mean, I quite appreciate the Japanese system where all tickets are the same price and you apply in a lottery system to get to buy a ticket. But what’s strange is how the very very popular acts don’t charge much much more for their tickets. Like, for example IKON might perform in a Japanese arena with 8000 tickets available for $100 USD each, but only 6000 fans actually apply for tickets to that show. At the same time, B'z may be on an arena tour and play in the same arena with 8000 tickets available for $100 USD each. But 200,000 fans apply for tickets to that show. Clearly they could have charged $300 instead of $100 USD/ticket and still sold out. I’m really struggling to understand why top acts in Japan don’t charge higher prices.

What do you think of JYP saying that album sales are one of the best indicators for a group's success during his JYP 2.0 presentation?

Well, again, for JYP it’s very great with album sales as that’s how JYP make lots of profits.

[phroyd]

Reading this article, you see the similarity between right-Wing Orthodox Jewry and Fundamentalist Islam; THIS is why Israel has become an Apartheid, Fascist State, Right-Wing Religious Extremism! - Phroyd

BEIT SHEMESH, Israel — The slaughter of 11 Jews in Pittsburgh elicited responses in Israel that echoed the reactions to anti-Semitic killings in Paris, Toulouse and Brussels: expressions of sympathy, reminders that hatred of Jews is as rampant as ever, reaffirmations of the need for a strong Israel.

But Saturday’s massacre also brought to the surface painful political and theological disagreements tearing at the fabric of Israeli society and driving a wedge between Israelis and American Jews.

Israel’s Sephardic chief rabbi took pains to avoid the word “synagogue” to describe the scene of the crime — because it is not Orthodox, but Conservative, one of the liberal branches of Judaism that, despite their numerous adherents in the United States, are rejected by the religious authorities who determine the Jewish state’s definitions of Jewishness.

And the attacker’s anti-refugee, anti-Muslim fulminations on social media prompted some on the Israeli left — like many American Jewish liberals — to draw angry comparisons to views espoused by the increasingly nationalistic leaders who now hold sway in their governments.

The result has been a striking and lightning-fast politicization of the sort of tragedy that until now had only galvanized Jews across the world — not set them at one another’s throats.

Here in Israel, the decades-old animosity between left and right has reached new levels of enmity in recent years. Ultra-Orthodox parties that play a kingmaker’s role in the right-wing government are pressing to increase their influence and that of Jewish law on daily life, sparking bitter fights over everything from who serves in the military to whether trains can run and stores can open on the Sabbath. Jews from liberal American denominations feel increasingly alienated from Israel’s state-run religious life.

With the Israeli government, like many across Europe, also taking a decidedly nationalistic turn, the election of President Trump has only compounded that strife, widening the rift between Israeli and American Jews. Politically liberal American Jews have been repelled by Mr. Trump’s solid support for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, and by Mr. Netanyahu’s effusive embrace of Mr. Trump and his granting of a wish-list’s worth of political gifts. They range from scrapping the Iran nuclear agreement to repeatedly punishing the Palestinians and recognizing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital.

All of that, and more, bubbled up when one of Israel’s most influential politicians, Naftali Bennett, leader of the right-wing Jewish Home party, jumped on a plane to Pittsburgh in his capacity as minister of diaspora affairs. Mr. Bennett gave voice only to unifying ideals: “Together we stand, Americans, Israelis — people who are, together, saying no to hatred,” he told a vigil there Sunday night. “The murderer’s bullet does not stop to ask, ‘Are you Conservative or Reform, are you Orthodox? Are you right-wing or left-wing?’ It has one goal, and that is to kill innocent people. Innocent Jews.”

No sooner had Mr. Bennett’s plane departed Ben-Gurion Airport than he was assailed by liberal Israeli critics, who among other things resurfaced a 2012 Facebook post in which he had accused leftists of promoting “crime and rape in Tel Aviv” because they wanted to allow African migrants who had entered the country illegally to stay.

“Is the Trump-supporting, African-migrant-bashing Naftali Bennett really the best person to represent Israel in Pittsburgh right now?” wrote Anshel Pfeffer in Haaretz, the liberal daily.

Others cited a pro-Jewish Home party text message sent to Haifa residents in advance of Tuesday’s municipal elections. It warned Jewish voters fearful of “the flight of young Jews” and a “takeover” by “the sector”— shorthand for Israeli Arabs — to vote for the Jewish Home slate.

“That’s almost word-for-word the spirit of ‘Jews will not replace us,’” said Dahlia Scheindlin, a left-wing political consultant in Tel Aviv, recalling the chant of neo-Nazi marchers in Charlottesville, Va., in 2017.

Even Michael Oren, the American-born deputy minister from the right-of-center Kulanu party, faulted Mr. Bennett for having sided with the ultra-Orthodox Israeli rabbinate, which refuses to recognize non-Orthodox denominations as sufficiently Jewish to participate fully in Israeli religious life.

“Liberal Jews were Jewish enough to be murdered, but their stream is not Jewish enough to be recognized by the Jewish State,” Mr. Oren wrote in Hebrew on Twitter, adding: “I call on Minister Bennett not to suffice with condolences, but to recognize liberal Jewish streams and unite the people.”

On the right, veteran activists in Likud, Mr. Netanyahu’s party, circulated an email on Sunday — which Mr. Netanyahu’s aides and party leaders disavowed within hours — noting that the Pittsburgh killer had denounced the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, which “encouraged immigration” and “acted against Trump.”

“Did we or did we not say that the Left is guilty of encouraging anti-Semitism?,” wrote the email’s author, who responded to queries but declined to identify himself.

Many Israelis, of course, reacted with horror and grief as they tuned into coverage of the Pittsburgh massacre. In Beit Shemesh, a largely ultra-Orthodox city 20 minutes west of Jerusalem, Elisheva Gutman, 24, a social worker, said her parents had vacationed in Pittsburgh two weeks earlier and had attended Sabbath services down the street from the Tree of Life synagogue, the killing site. “When they go to Europe, my father takes off his kipa and puts on a hat,” for fear of attack, Ms. Gutman said. “It’s not supposed to be that way in the U.S.”

Chaim Zaid, 62, a paramedic from Kedumim, a West Bank settlement, said the shooting belied Israelis’ ideas of the United States as a “paradise” for Jews. “You think the big U.S., with the big F.B.I., will protect them, and nothing will change,” he said. “But that was a change point. My sister lives in Brooklyn and was afraid to come to my home. So Sunday morning I sent her a message: ‘Rivka, you were afraid to come to me?’”

If other Israelis were quick to score political points over the Pittsburgh killings, though, in a sense they had been preparing for this moment. The disagreements between American and Israeli Jews have been piling up.

Only last week, the Jewish Federations of North America’s yearly General Assembly drew hundreds of Americans to Tel Aviv for a three-day conference focused on the strains in the relationship, titled “We Need to Talk.”

In a provocative keynote, the head of Israel’s largest real estate company, Danna Azrieli, recited the litany of friction points. For Americans, she said, there are Mr. Netanyahu’s effusive embrace of Mr. Trump, whom most American Jews oppose; the Israeli occupation and Jewish settlements on the West Bank, which many American Jews believe block peace with the Palestinians; Mr. Netanyahu’s reneging on a deal last year to significantly upgrade and grant equal status to a mixed-gender, Reform and Conservative prayer space at the Western Wall; and Israel’s new nation-state law, which opponents call racist and anti-democratic because it enshrines the right of national self-determination in Israel as “unique to the Jewish people.”

For Israelis, Ms. Azrieli said, Americans don’t serve in the Israeli army, pay Israeli taxes or live under the threat of rockets, but also don’t let those realities stop them from trying to impose their views on Israelis.

Long as it was, that list had big omissions. Israelis on the left would add, at a minimum, the Netanyahu government’s warming up to increasingly authoritarian leaders in countries like Hungary and Poland, and its demonization of the Hungarian-born, liberal Jewish financier George Soros — who also is a frequent target of anti-Semitic attacks in the United States and Europe — for underwriting activist groups that oppose Mr. Netanyahu’s policies. Mr. Netanyahu’s own son even posted a meme attacking Mr. Soros with anti-Semitic imagery that drew praise from the likes of David Duke.

And Israelis on the right would add their lingering resentment of American Jews’ support for the Iran nuclear deal struck by President Obama, which Israelis saw as a matter of survival, according to the author Yossi Klein Halevi, a New York-born Jerusalemite.

Mr. Halevi, a senior fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute, said the Pittsburgh shootings had exposed an even deeper and more worrisome divide between the two populations. “Each sees the other as in some sense threatening its most basic well-being,” he said. “American Jews don’t understand the depth of the Israeli sense of betrayal over the Iran deal. And Israelis don’t understand why American Jews regard Trump as a life-and-death threat to the liberal society that allowed American Jewry to become the most successful minority in Jewish history.”

How damaged is the relationship? In her keynote, Ms. Azrieli felt compelled to plead, “Don’t give up on our country,” adding: “Don’t walk away because your liberal sensibilities are insulted. Don’t assume that nothing can change. Things do change — just painfully, slowly, incrementally, and with all of our help.”

And yet among Israeli leaders, some already have given up on American Jews, said Mr. Oren, the deputy minister and a former Israeli ambassador in Washington, who also cited some American Jews’ opposition to President Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital.

“One school of thought is: ‘These are our people, we have to do everything possible to reach out.’ The second school says:, ‘It’s too late, they’re gone. After Iran, after Jerusalem, if we have limited resources we should invest in our base — evangelicals and the Orthodox.’”

“The first school, which is mine, is a beleaguered school,” Mr. Oren said. “The burden of doubt is on us; we have to prove that we’re still correct. It’s not easy.”

In Beit Shemesh, Zion Cohen, 66, a mall manager, lamented the acrimony. “I’m Likud, but what’s happened between Israel and America, I’m against it,” he said. “I know it’s painful to Jews in America how Israel acts toward them. The influence of the Orthodox and Haredim on the Israeli government is a catastrophe. And we need help from the Jews of the U.S., especially given how much anti-Semitism there is now in the world.”

He added: “We have to unite the whole Jewish people.”

Correction: October 30, 2018

An earlier version of a picture caption with this article misspelled the surname of man shown standing in front of a mall in Beit Shemesh. He is Eli Peretz, not Teretz.

Phroyd

#israel #pittsburgh #orthodoxy #fascism

[toilethot6-blog]

Top Ten Reasons Why Regulation Businesses Must evaluate Discerning Legal Freelancing

In the last fraction of 2008 America deals with economic problems never imagined even a few a few months ago. How will businesses manage and survive the constraints on credit, demand and even growth? How does the particular economical downturn impact attorneys together with law firms which service the business community? It is an evident truth that businesses can only look at modifying two earnings streams, income and expenses, in order to maximize profitability. In the event earnings can be down in addition to definitely not anticipated to increase substantially around the near term, clients of law firms can take typically the hatchet to expenses so as to survive. Legal fees will be underneath extreme scrutiny. Legal outsourced workers, while still a nascent industry, is gaining impetus, being considered in even more corporate boardrooms. As the pressures to be able to outsource build up, attorneys wonder whether these people should embrace outsourcing legal work offshore or even withstand that. In the deal with of international economic troubles coupled with the improving reduction of American job opportunities the reason why would a Circumstance. T. law firm desire to actually consider legitimate outsourcing? Is there valid motives why targeted legal outsourcing techniques should be considered by every U. S. regulation organization? Several weeks before I gotten an e-mail from a lawyer who else was considering outsourcing a few of the legal work of their law firm. Facing weight in addition to challenges from numerous in the law firm which wanted to keep up with the condition quo, he asked for my own advice as to what exactly this individual should tell his / her partners. Why should typically the firm delegate lawful do the job offshore, a good practice found by quite a few as adventuresome and dangerous, instead associated with staying the training, doing it "the way we have now always done it. inches I solved him with all the top ten reasons why any law firm should take into account selective legal outsourcing: one. PRUDENT, FOCUSED OUTSOURCING MAY RESULT IN REDUCED REGULATION FIRM OVERHEAD Outsourcing some legal work to skilled providers in India can lead to significantly lower overhead to the outsourcing law firm. Around assessing the comparative prices the law determined will certainly be wise to meticulously compute the real costs of employing a single law firm or paralegal. Those people costs consist of salary and even bonus, health and fitness insurance, family vacation together with holiday pay, hurt time expense, FICA, office space and even equipment for the lawyer, paralegal and secretarial employees assigned to that legal representative, pension plan and profit posting, automobile and parking price, CLE seminar costs, together with other occupation benefits these as disability plus life insurance. The real gross annual cost of one lawyer getting a base yearly salary involving $150, 000-$175, 000 is likely in often the range of $250, 1000 to $300, 000 annually. NONE of these routine expenditures accrue to the rules solid utilizing added offshore authorized providers. two. OUTSOURCING TECHNIQUES ARE GOING TO ENHANCE RULES FIRM EFFICIENCIES Frugal outsourcing will improve the productivity of your law business. Because Indian native lawyers job when United states lawyers sleep, this will probably be like the law firm has a full time, fully staffed night time shift. Some do the job may be assigned simply by a new partner in 6 s. m. after sunset and the completed task on his workdesk when he arrives with the office the so next morning. Lawsuit cases can move more speedily by way of the court system using less need for plug-ins of your energy. 3. OUTSOURCING WILL RESULT IN ENHANCED LEGAL PROFESSIONAL MORALE As some sort of little one not many of this sermons I heard via my pastor stuck along with me. But a single, whenever I was fourteen years old still rings a bells. They said: "Ninety per cent of any worthwhile attempt is pack work, promoting, day in and outing. Only ten percent associated with our job tasks are usually necessarily thrilling exciting. " I have generally kept in mind that statement. In more in comparison with two years to be a trial lawyer I loved strategizing and trying cases to juries. But I did certainly not necessarily enjoy all of of the test and even deposition preparation, exploration plus briefing, document review, plus different mundane requirements associated with the practice of legislation. A law firm which will features outsourcing into it is practice may inevitably instill more satisfied lawyers who also commit their own time and even energies to the tougher, fun and rewarding portions of typically the practice regarding law. The particular "chore" legal work is outsourced using the "core" operate staying onshore. This will allow a lot more time for customer relationship and development by simply typically the firm's lawyers. 4. OUTSOURCED WORKERS WILL RESULT IN ALL ROUND SAVINGS THROUGHOUT LEGITIMATE SERVICE FEES TO CONSUMERS Customers involving law firms, particularly company clients, are seeking a long way and wide for methods to cut their authorized expenses. Quite a few inquire exactly why they should give, regarding example, $200 to three hundred hourly for document review. Gone are the times when legal bills are simply just paid without scrutiny. Moreover, the annual increases throughout hourly rates will definitely not be nicely received by clients looking to cut prices. Wise law firms put the interests of their buyers earlier mentioned their own. Precisely what is good for the consumer will ultimately be fine for that laws firm themselves. four. THE RULES ASSOCIATED WITH PROFESSIONAL DO REQUIRE PAYING FOR FREELANCERS CONSIDERATION The principles of Expert Conduct connected with require that will: the. "A lawyer ought to seek to accomplish the particular legitimate objectives of any client through reasonable permissible means. " (Rule one 2) b. "A legal professional should explain a matter to the extent reasonably necessary to help permit the client to make informed options about the particular representation. " (Rule you. 4 b) d. "A lawyer shall help to make fair efforts to expedite a lawsuit consistent with the interests of the client. " (Rule several. 2) A legal representative is required to explore and discuss with the buyer all reasonable suggests of attaining the patient's objectives. A legal professional is certainly not permitted to charge an unreasonable or maybe excessive payment. It would seem which a lawyer is debatably necessary to discuss discerning outsourcing as an easy way of reducing the company's ultimate fee obligation in addition to furthering the interests with the client. 6. OUTSOURCED WORKERS "CHORE" LEGAL WORK HELPS BRING ABOUT CLIENT RETENTION AND GROWTH Clientele have long stunted ever-increasing legal fees for fundamental, "chore" legal work. Nevertheless, many people felt as in the event they had not any alternative. They needed typically the legitimate representation and needed great quality work. As there was not a new significant penetration of fee variance from practice to law firm, consumers assisted to "stay place. inches This trend is usually beginning to change as consumers know that they currently have options. Lawyers who use outsourcing for selectively are reporting a more contented, faithful client base. Clients who else perceive the fact that their legal professionals are hunting out for the entirety of the his or her interests, which include fee fees, tend to stay committed to his or her existing law firms together with even refer other customers (whose lawyers refuse to outsource). 7. COMPETITION IS DEFINITELY OUTSOURCING If your laws firm is not outsourcing, be certain that your competition is. On September 21, 07 Bloomberg. contendo reported that even long-established AMLAW 100 law firms such as Smith Day and Kirkland & Ellis are outsourcing below pressure from clients. 9. Georgia tax Attorney U. S. LAWYERS MAY WELL CHARGE A REALISTIC ORGANIZATION FEE It is usually affordable together with acceptable with regard to U. H. law firms outsourcing legal job what exactly is to charge an affordable organization fee in conjunction with outsourced legal work. That can be axiomatic that a good legal professional who outsources authorized job, whether to the partner, contract lawyer or even overseas provider, ultimately continues to be in charge to his consumer for your quality and timeliness regarding delivery of the legal merchandise. If some sort of lawyer assigns your research together with writing of a brief to a new junior associate, the assigning lawyer will not likely usually submit the closing operate product to often the court devoid of review and even supervision. Making it with what exactly is legal outsourced workers. Published life values opinions of the San Diego, New York plus United states Bar Groups signify that will a law firm who outsources offshore might charge a reasonable managing fee. 9. CLIENTELE ARE INSISTING ON PICKY FREELANCING TO ACHIEVE CHARGE SAVINGS Clientele talk for you to one another. Executives of major companies golf and have lunch with one a further. Corporate General Counsel attend meetings and CLE tutorials, sharing information and approaches to increase efficiencies together with reduce costs. They know concerning offshore paying for freelancers and the dramatic cost savings that could be obtained. It is unpleasant, thus, to ignore lawful outsourcing and, as 1 managing lawyer partner instructed me, include "no appetite" for it. ten. FREELANCING WILL HAPPEN. Doing absolutely nothing is not an option. A few are outsourcing techniques. Many even more are considering it, if prompted by eager business sense or economical realities. Outsourcing is like a sizable, ominous wave a couple of a long way offshore. It is preferable to search this wave than hang on to be able to be swallowed up, overwhelmed by means of its power and left wondering what happened. United kingdom economist Herbert Spencer is acknowledged with originating this term "survival of typically the fittest" in the core 19th century. Although in addition having software to biology, Spencer applied the idea of success of this fittest to cost-free marketplace economics. In a absolutely free market, companies and corporations will do what is necessary to make it through. In the event that that means outsourcing many U. S. legal jobs for the greater great involving success of typically the entity themselves, then and so be that. The unit of actually increasing wages and expenses to get law firms followed by in fact higher legal fees incurred clients cannot sustain themselves any longer. Legal outsourcing techniques is here to stay. The wise is going to take see, make it and flourish

[squidgytoebeans]

The Telstra Saga Continues.

If you’ve been following me long enough, you’ll probably know all about the issues hubby and I have been having with Telstra, one of the largest telecommunications providers here in Australia.

Buckle up folks, it’s gonna be a long one...

If you already know the backstory you can skip to the section after the sentence “So here’s where the new nonsense starts” for the new gory details.

We were without internet for almost three months when we first moved here because the previous tenant had no cancelled her account after she moved out. Then, even though we had documented proof that we live here now, when they rang her to ask if they could disconnect the line, she said she still lived here... because she didn’t wanna pay the $178 bill. For three months this woman held out phone/internet line hostage and Telstra, who own the line, said they couldn’t do anything about it. Anyway, ancient history, that problem was solved eventually when she finally gave them a date of when she was “going to move out”.

Then for over 12 months after that we battled with them over a slow connection that they kept telling us was “fine on their end” and refusing to send a technician out. Then when they finally caved and sent someone out that man was incredibly rude and sexist towards me (rolling his eyes at my husband every time I spoke even though I have a Diploma in IT and know more about these kinds of things than my husband) and didn’t touch a single thing when he was here. All he did was reiterated the default stance of “Everything looks fine on our end, there’s nothing I can do”.

In the end we made a complaint to the Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman (which costs Telstra $3000 every time someone makes a complaint regardless of what said complain is) and they managed to force Telstra to send out another technician... who called 10 minutes before he was supposed to be here and said, and I quote, “Everything looks fine on our end, I don’t see any reason to come there. Besides, I have a corporate client that I have to deal with today and the big guys are more important, you know?”.

So I rang our case handler at the TIO and they told them if they didn’t get a technician out here asap, the fines would get bigger and they’d be in a lot more trouble. The next day a technician actually showed up (this one was surprisingly really nice!) and it took him literally two minutes to find the problem. All he did was poke the modem once, the internet cut out, and he didn’t need to do anything else to figure it out. Literally all he had to do was touch the modem with the tip of his finger. 12 months. OVER 12 months, and not a single person bothered to think “maybe the modem is faulty”. He replaced the modem on the spot, and the cables just in case, and problem solved.

Telstra also refused to compensate us in any way for the 12+ months of pathetic internet service (we literally couldn’t even load Gmail at all) and disgusting customer service, so that was cool too, but whatever the problem was solved and that’s really all I wanted.

So here’s where the new nonsense starts.

Cut to about 6 months later with no problems and it’s time for hubby and I to get new mobile phones; our contracts are almost up and they sent us a message saying we could take advantage of their new swap and go lease where all we have to do is give our old phones back and we get brand new ones for $0. So we decided to head down to the local Telstra shop to get ourselves a couple of brand new Samsung S9s, because why not.

During the process I decided to go for the S9 Edge (hubby got the standard S9). I was little bit hesitant about it because it was an extra $20 a month and our bill with them was already quite big with our landline (which we never use but we have to have to get internet), internet and cable all being bundled through them. However, after looking at our account, the sales assistant (if I could remember his name I would 100% put him on blast right now but I can’t) looked through out account and said “I see you guys don’t use your landline at all, why don’t I drop that down to the $79 plan from $95 and you can make up the extra that way?”.

Now, pay attention because this is key the part right here.

Because we’ve had so many problems with Telstra in the past, I said to him “Will that affect anything else in the bundle?” and his reply was, and again I quote, “Nope, it’ll just drop your landline bundle so that you don’t have as much calls available each month but you never use it so that should be fine.” Alright, cool, we changed everything over and went on our way, happy with our new phones.

Oh how naive we were.

The next month when the bill arrives... it’s almost twice would it should be! We were expecting a large bill because hubby’s phone screen was cracked and they had to charge us for that, but not THAT big a bill! But, we weren’t able to access the bill online for some reason so we ended up having to ring them to find out wtf was going on.

Turns out sales douche didn’t change our landline plan, no no, he added it on top of the already existing one! So they were trying to not only charge us for the old $99 plan, but the new $79 one too, as though we had two landlines in the house! It was also during this phone call that we found out that, contrary to what sales douche told us, our internet HAD been affect by the change in plan; it went from unlimited data usage to 1500gb a month. That may not seem like a big deal, and it’s not really because we never even use that much, but when someone tells you a change isn’t going to affect anything; you believe them!  But again, whatever, the problem was solved, the charge for the extra landline was removed from our account and we paid the bill.

It was also during this call that we decided to cancel our cable TV. We never watch it and it’s just a waste of money, so we told them to cut it off and we sent the box back.

Cut to another month later, and our bill comes again... or rather it doesn’t. We get a notification saying the bill is ready to be viewed and we can see the total — WHICH IS WRONG AGAIN — but yet again, we can’t access the actual bill to see why it’s wrong. Another call, another “oh dear, we forgot to remove the charge for the cable” and it’s “fixed” again.

Are you seeing the pattern yet?

At this point, I’m beginning to feel sorry for the poor people who have unwittingly set up direct debits with Telstra and don’t bother to look at their bills before they’re charged, how many of those poor people have been ripped off by these arseholes this way?

So about a week ago I get another notification telling me this month’s bill is ready ... and we can’t access the full bill again. And yet again it’s wrong! They STILL haven’t taken off the cable even though we cancelled it and sent the box back almost two months ago. Why am I not surprised? It seems another call is in order and hell, while we’re at it, why don’t we find out why tf we can never seem to access our bill and also complain about the slowness of the internet that’s happening yet again the past few months.

Here’s where it get hilariously fucking annoying and aggravating...

Turns out the reason we can’t access our bills everyone month is because of something sales douche did when he was changing our plan. No one knows what he did or how he managed to fuck it up so badly, but whenever the automated process that handles credits tries to credit off the cable every month it can’t and then it keeps getting stuck in a loop of trying to fix itself and I keep getting notifications saying the bill is ready when it’s not.

Oh but it gets better... remember when sales douche said dropping the landline down to the lower plan wouldn’t affect anything else on our account, just the landline? Lies. Utter lies. Not only did it drop back our data allowance as I mentioned before... BUT IT ALSO DROPPED OUR CONNECTION TO A LOWER SPEED! Now, call me crazy but that seems like it’s affecting more than the landline doesn’t it? I’m pretty certain during the hours it took him to set up our new phones I even told him about all the issues we’d had with Telstra in the past and that the reason I wanted the Galaxy S9 Edge was because it came with a larger data plan, which I needed because our home connection was too slow to stream. I’d like to know in what universe he thought we would be ok with dropping our fucking connection speed!? Was he high!? Or was he just like every other damn Telstra employee who knows sweet fuck all about what they’re talking about because the company is a piece of shit? That sounds about right to me.

So now, we can either deal with the slower speed, or we can pay an extra $10 a month to go onto a faster speed that claims it will give us up to 45mbps which sounds fantastic because that’s like 4x the speed we had before all of this BUT if you’re Australian you’ll know that that “UP TO” part is a key marketing strategy with Telstra. Sure you MIGHT get up to that speed... if you live in the middle of a large city or right on top of an exchange, but even then it’s highly unlikely. No one EVER gets the speeds they’re promised from Telstra.

Now I know what you’re thinking, why not ditch Telstra and go with a different provider? Oh, my sweet summer child, if only it were that simple. Telstra is the largest communications industry in Australia and as shocking as it may be to believe, Telstra is the most reliable of all of them all. Their cell service has better range than any of them (which is important when you live in a rural area like we do) and even if we went with another company, there would be no guarantee we’d get a more stable internet connection because Telstra literally own all of the lines and the other companies simply rent them. There’s a reason you might hear many Australians complain about the internet, and that’s because Australia literally has worse internet than some third-world countries and we pay through the nose for it.

I did warn you about it being a long one didn’t I? lol So all we can do now is wait and see if the this supposedly faster 45mbps is actually what they say and go from there and if it’s not... someone is going to lose an eye.

#rant #personal

[nolluska]

Faceup is LIVE, 1 spot is free! -edit- slot is gone ❤️

NOLLS IS BACK! 8D

Are you interested in a faceup? Then read ahead! 

Faceup commissions and details

Hello, I am Nolluska (Or @Dr.Nolls on Instagram) (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿) (Mostly everywhere else than DoA, where I’m Giggy - don’t ask) and I’ve been painting dolls since 2008 and doing commissions and working on dolls for as long. I was on a long hiatus the past two years but now I feel I can slowly start on doing these again. 

I want to give a heads up that because of my chronic illnesses, I have to plan out commissions very carefully and not take more than 2 at a time so I won’t burden myself with too many things going on at the same time. It is the first thing that might lengthen the period of finishing your doll. This is why I have listed the painting period of one head to 2-3 months but I might also finish your doll even earlier than 2 months. I can give updates when there are updates to give, but please keep the messaging to a minimum unless you have some important information or add-ons for the faceup instructions than was previously discussed. 

✿ As a start; please notice that I will take pictures of the faceups I’ve done and I have full usage on the pictures of the pictures I’ve taken and I can use them wherever I want.

I’m at my best as girly natural faceups but doing anything out of the ordinary isn’t scary! I can paint realistically or as fantasy as it gets, who doesn’t love a little challenge! 

I will not copy other peoples work but I can get influenced from example photos or try to paint something like some other person in the photographs. But if you want the whole faceup to be painted like person X, then please ask that person for a faceup, not me.

I don’t take photos of the works in progress, you will receive only finished faceup pictures. I’m sorry about this but doing this will stretch the finishing time enormously for me as the weather here is as quirky as it can be. 

Faceup price: 55€ (+ shipping fees)

✿ Includes previous faceup removal and cleaning

✿ Includes eyelashes from my stock and glueing them on

Waiting time is 2-3 months for one head, starting from the day I receive the head. Waiting time may vary due to weather conditions since I live in a very wet/mixed weather climate. I might or might not take more heads at the same time to work on - you can always PM me for details. 

Possible: I might stream the doll painting sessions on my Twitch account (Nolluska). PM me for more info if you’re interested in seeing your doll being painted live!

What I DON’T do:

Fantasy parts painting, no horns or fantasy legs etc. 

Bodyblushings

Manicures

Pedicures

What I CAN do:

Tattoos, price to be decided after size and difficulty

Scars, price to be decided after size and difficulty

Freckles and moles, free of charge

Beards, free of charge

Modifications like adding epoxy or carving/sanding, fee decided after discussion.

Repairing broken parts, fee decided after discussion

Postage, calculated with the lowest possible fee (no insurance or tracking, ask for a quote in those):

Europe (EU): ~12€

USA: ~20€

Check our Posti service out to see what it costs: https://www.posti.fi/index-en.html

Other than those, ask for details if you cannot figure out the Posti -webpage. :3

For the faceup details I need, there are different possibilities:

You can give me free hands after giving me slight instuctions of what you’d like the doll to appear like. (Gentle, shy, confused etc.)

If you are very strict of what you’d like your doll to look like, from the color cheme to the eyebrow shape, you can give me example photos and I’ll carry them out the best I can.

General color theme

General atmosphere (realistic, natural, gothic, cheerful, sad etc.)

Color and shape of the eyelashes

Color and shape of the eyebrows

Color and shape of the lips

Blushing, the preferred amount.

Glued in eyelashes, Y/N, color and size preference.

Any add in’s, like beauty marks or freckles.

!! Add example photos if you have any !!

You can also give me some small story to read (if you have any) or some character information for me to get inspired from. ^_^

You can PM me here or contact me directly with email to:

[email protected] (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)

Please read!

Also everyone under 18 years of age please note that I need a legal guardians written agreement on my prices and return shipping fees. I will also refuse to send items back unless I’m paid the full amount. I will ship items paid with Paypal, ONLY to the Paypal adress.

I will anyhow accept IBAN bank transfer payments from EU countries. 

Layaway is not an option, the payment for the faceup must be made upfront. Postage you can pay later when I've finished the head and ready to post, as the prices might change over time. 

Thank you for reading this ^_^

- Much love from Suvi <3 

#bjd #bjds #doll #dolls #faceup #faceups #dollfaceup #bjdfaceup #faceupartist #balljointeddoll #dollpainting #balljointeddollfaceup

[chroniclackofselfpreservation]

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 38 - something keeps trying but i'm not killed yet

Back to the Beginning   < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: graphic depictions of violence, blood/gore, panic, minor character death, malnutrition, self-sacrifice mentality)

(The title of the chapter comes from “Psalm 150” by Jericho Brown)

A/N: IMPORTANT INFO! PLEASE READ!

Hey, guys. Sorry for such a long wait for this chapter. Crazy how it took getting COVID for me to finally get my crap together and write this. I’m still not completely satisfied with how it turned out, but I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting.

I’ll be posting a new work to my COTN extras series right after this chapter drops with a bunch of new worldbuilidng stuff (for all you nerds out there, like me). Included is a map of the Witchlands. Due to changes in the city’s layout, I’ve gone back and changed the descriptions of the city in past chapters (specifically, section 3 of “heirlooms from sea funerals”, and section 3 of “make it make sense to make it better”) but nothing plot-altering. So you aren’t confused with this new chapter, basically: there are trains on bridges throughout the city now.

(also also: I won't be making these changes on the past tumblr posts, so if you want to read the updated versions, follow the AO3 link)

Two weeks later...

Roman slipped inside the blessedly cool interior of a tailor’s shop and leaned against the wall, wiping his face. Each day in the Witchlands was as hot as the last, like the dead of summer back in Wakeby, but far more humid. Thankfully, he was in the East Market, an organized, well-to-do grid of sixteen square blocks just south of the Djel Triba where the arcane district’s newest trinkets often made their first stop before the mass market. The source of the cool air was a thin wooden ring set up on a stand in the corner. Roman stepped up to it, sighing as a stream of cold air washed over him. Carved on the inside were four lines of alchemy, equally spaced apart around the ring. Roman couldn’t decipher it, aside from a few letters and numbers he recognized.

“You know, if I wanted my shop to smell like sweat, I’d invite the Wall Guard in here,” a voice said, and Roman turned. A man in all black stood behind him wearing a very stylish black scarf and circular glasses tinted a few shades darker, arms folded across his chest. It was the closest thing Roman had seen to normal sunglasses since arriving in the Witchlands. The tailor looked Roman and his gray uniform up and down, pausing on the gold insignia on his left shoulder.

“Working for Val, huh?”

He shrugged. “Community service, actually.” Roman riffled around in his satchel for a moment. “I’ve got a letter from the Chief Judge to… Rait?” he said, reading the name next to the address.

The tailor cocked an eyebrow. “You got a problem with my name, messenger boy? I’ll have you know it’s a family name going back ten generations.”

Unsure how to respond, Roman held out the letter. Rait plucked it from his hand and, unsheathing a pair of ornate metal scissors, sliced the envelope open. Roman waited politely, as was his duty, in case the recipient wished to send an immediate reply.

“These are all the same,” Rait muttered as he slipped a folded piece of parchment from the envelope. “Thanks, Rait, for designing me world-class outfits, even though I refuse to wear anything but that scaly suit of…” he trailed off. His face drained of both humor and blood as he scanned the letter’s contents. Roman’s interest piqued. Indeed, most of the mail he delivered for the Chief Judge consisted of complimentary thank-you notes to government officials or business owners. Only the truly sycophantic took time to send anything back.

Rait took a steadying breath, his expression carefully neutral. His quick glance at Roman’s hand, however, betrayed at least part of what he’d read.

It was about Roman.

Valerie had agreed that adding gloves to his uniform would keep him from getting mobbed in the streets by curious—or in some cases, pious—witches, though the ones he wore now were fingerless. Roman still wasn’t completely sure what his position as the Last Heir entailed, and Valerie only answered him with vaguery. Some thought he was destined to overthrow the Djel Triba and become a monarch. Some revered the old Witch Queen herself as a lower deity or handmaiden of Kaia, and considered him a sort of demigod. Roman tried to avoid these witches as much as possible. They tended to get weepy and try to grab his hands or arms. One man even started singing in the middle of the street. Thankfully, Roman had dashed off before too many people took notice.

Regardless, it seemed gloves would only hide his identity a short while longer. Rumors were spreading.

“Right. Well, um,” Rait said, pocketing the letter and composing himself. “I won’t be needing to send a physical reply, if you wouldn’t mind telling her my answer is yes.”

“Of course. Kaia cas de,” he said, giving a slight bow alongside the traditional farewell Valerie had taught him before he’d started his job. Kaia with you, it translated.

“O de,” Rait replied automatically, lost in thought.

Roman turned to leave.

“Hey,” Rait called, and Roman stopped with the door half open. The tailor fished around in his pocket, then tossed him two silver shils. Roman caught them and tried not to gape.

“I… I’m not supposed to get paid,” he said. “It’s kind of the point of community service.”

“Just get yourself something to eat, kid, witchgods,” Rait snapped, looking supremely uncomfortable at being openly kind. “You look like you’ll blow over in a stiff breeze. And don’t mention this to Val. She’ll never let me hear the end of it… because it goes against your sentence. Obviously.”

“Right,” Roman said slowly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rait muttered and disappeared into the back of the store.

Roman stepped out onto the street, a little stunned, pocketing his new wealth. He had seen little aside from gold shils, the lowest currency, since Valerie had sent Virgil and him clothes shopping when they’d first arrived. Roman looked down at himself. Sure, he’d lost some weight since being here, but he wasn’t sickly… right? It was probably from running all over the Capital six hours a day. Nevermind that the only meal he got was at the end of the night at Goldfire. Valerie hadn’t said anything about it, and Roman wasn’t about to. She was a busy person. He doubted she was deliberately leaving him destitute. Besides, he was getting by just fine.

Unfortunately, being “just fine” rarely kept his stomach from growling. On any other day, Roman would have snagged himself some nonperishable food to keep a stash of. Today, however, the small fortune would have to go to clearing a debt that had been looming over him ever since he’d taken it out to buy that muhlte—another gamble he’d had to take to make ends meet with no income coming from his messenger work, and the reason Virgil had insisted on taking up a job of his own as a clerk for that same clothing shop they’d visited on their first day in the Witchlands. He was just thankful he was a quick learner. Amaryllis taught him to play well enough to serve as nightly entertainment for Bodbyn’s patrons and earn himself dinner each night, as well as continued boarding once their two-week window from Valerie’s favor ran out.

Roman kept a hand in his pocket, fingers tight around the two silver shils, and glanced at his satchel. He had a handful of letters left to deliver. Thumbing through them, Roman found their destinations were around the south end of the West Market—a sprawling market district nestled inside the ruins of walls from when the Witch Queen had still been around, and the Capital had been a much smaller kingdom. If Roman hurried, he could finish his deliveries and run an errand of his own before reporting back to Valerie.

Content with his plan, Roman buckled his satchel closed and jogged to the nearest boarding station.

* * * * * * * * * *

The trains were, oddly, made of pale stone, rather than the hulking metal locomotives Roman was used to. Here, people called them railcars. There weren’t any seats either. Bars lined the ceiling—and the walls for those too short to reach—as handholds while the machine moved. There was a gap in the handles, forming a kind of aisle between people so passengers could exit more freely at stops, but otherwise, they all crowded together.

Roman stood near the exit alongside three other similarly gray-uniformed messengers in their designated seating area, one arm above his head as he gripped the support. Thankfully, messengers were exempt from rail fees, which meant there was one less thing he had to worry about paying for. The patches on their shoulders indicated which judge or noble family they ran for, though Roman was still having trouble memorizing them all. He glanced at the messenger to his right, who was about his age. The gold insignia on her left shoulder depicted an open book with a pen and a chisel crossed above it. She noticed him looking and gave an awkward smile.

“Sorry,” Roman said. “I’m still trying to learn all the crests. That’s Oberon, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, it is,” she replied, brightening. “Who’re you running for?”

For a moment, Roman considered lying. Too much of any kind of attention was precarious, for him especially. Unfortunately, the patch on his shoulder would reveal the truth no matter what. “The Chief Judge,” he admitted.

The messenger’s eyes widened. “Really? I thought—well, no offense, but I’ve heard she only lets the most powerful witches run for her because of all that classified information… and you’re so young!”

Roman fought a blush. “It’s really not that big of a deal. Just thank-you notes and—”

“You never know, Maize” one messenger from behind said, leaning forward between them, “he could be a warlock. I hear they’re allowed de-aging spells.”

“Whatever, Fentril,” Maize said, rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty sure those spells are illegal, even for warlocks.”

“You guys all know each other?” Roman asked, glancing behind him. There were six other messengers on the train. All eyed him with curiosity.

Fentril snorted. “Do you know how many runners there are in the Capital? Hundreds.”

“More like thousands, Fen,” one of the runners from behind them corrected.

“We know most runners from our own patronage,” Maize explained. “Maybe a few here and there that we see on the same routes,” she said, glaring pointedly at Fentril. “How long have you been running? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I’ve seen him,” a different runner from the back piped up before Roman could respond. He turned. It was a tall woman, taller than him, with thick braided hair done up in a top knot. She leaned on the side of the car, almost sitting against it. Roman was sure if she stood, she’d have to hunch over. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed her before. The crest on her shoulder depicted two hands grasping overlaying a star of Kaia. The crest of Alecto, that daunting, all-white witch from the trial.

“Runs the noble neighborhoods and both markets. Pretty easy to recognize, wearing those strange gloves all the time,” she said, eyeing him. Roman’s chest seized, and it took everything in him not to hide his hands and make his secret even more obvious.

“Hey, a witch’s entitled their secrets, Hava,” Fen said, then stage whispered to Roman, “Don’t let her freak you out, kid.”

Roman cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, given Fen didn’t look that much older than him, but didn’t argue the point. Blessedly, before they could ask more questions about his gloves, the train arrived at his stop. He waved a tentative goodbye to his new acquaintances, muttering a quick, “Kaia cas des.”

“O de,” Maize and Fen said. A handful of runners exited the railcar alongside him, including Hava, who had to duck through the doorway. Standing to her full height, the woman looked at least seven feet tall, towering above the crowd. The boarding station was a fully roofed building encasing a section of the railway, arching up over the passing trains and letting down to the ground through an enormous spiral staircase inside the leg of the railbridge’s arch. There were alchemy-based elevators within the core pillar of the massive stairway, but those were reserved for emergencies.

Hava gave him a sort of salute—touching the side of her fist to her lips—and bounded down the stairs, out of sight. Roman had run up and down so many boarding stations in only the first two weeks of him being here, he couldn’t imagine how many the other runners had. He broke out into a jog, spacing his stride so three paces landed on each of the wide steps, careful not to trip. Runners like him kept to the inside of the stairway, making tighter turns, but traveling less distance overall. The crowd of ascending and descending witches recognized their uniforms and knew to keep out of the way.

In all his time here, he only seen other messengers stop running when they were on a train or at someone’s doorstep. Roman wasn’t about to look lazy in comparison. Besides, he quite enjoyed the running—now that he’d started acclimating, of course. The first few days, he’d nearly vomited.

By the time he reached the exit at the bottom, Hava and the other runners were long gone. Compared to the East Market, the West Market was a bubbling stewpot of taverns, merchants, shops, and the occasional street performer. The crowded streets made random, illogical turns, and most witches he asked for directions simply said he’d get used to it eventually, and gave him landmarks to look for instead of street names. Checking the last few addresses once more, Roman had a general idea of where to find their recipients.

Eyeing the setting sun, Roman ran down the street.

* * * * * * * * * *

The sun had long since dipped below the city walls, the sunset giving way to twilight. Roman strode through the still-crowded West Market, enjoying the cooler air. Nightlife in the West Market lasted well into the night, and the streets would likely be full for the next three or four hours. He’d finished his deliveries at last, wending his way along the ancient stone wall bordering the south end of the market. Normally, Roman’s assignments never took him this close to the noke slums—where the badge on his shoulder was more a target than mere identification—but it was a risk Roman would have to take.

My shift’s over. I’ll be heading back to Goldfire soon, Virgil said suddenly within his mind. Roman nearly jumped out of his skin, garnering a few odd looks from passersby.

Jeez, Virge, he thought back, slowing his breathing. Scare me half to death, why don’t you.

Sorry. I keep forgetting you aren’t used to it.

It’s fine. If you see Bodbyn, tell her I’m running late.

A hint of trepidation shot through their connection. Did something happen?

No, Roman assured him. I ran into some extra shils and thought I’d clear my ledger sooner than later.

Alright. Just be careful.

Always.

Their connection faded, though not completely. If he focused, Roman could sense Virgil’s emotions. Speaking through the bond had taken Roman a good few days to get the hang of, and it still wasn’t as natural for him as it was for Virgil.

Amaryllis spent most of her time at Goldfire. After one day cooped up in their room, she’d ventured out while the two of them were gone and somehow made friends with Bodbyn, the owner. Though unexpected, the friendship certainly helped smooth things over with them not technically paying for the room and all.

Roman passed a shop selling pigment pipes as contracted brownies scampered down the street, activating the alchemical streetlights as they went. Through the store’s front window, Roman could see clouds of multicolored vapor swirling near the ceiling. A patron exited and Roman could smell sharp spices and cinnamon as the man exhaled a deep purple mist through his nose. Roman held his breath as he passed. He wasn’t sure if someone could absorb the effects secondhand, but he wasn’t keen on finding out.

Turning a corner, Roman moved away from the well-lit streets and into the shadows. Climbing a set of questionable wooden stairs on the side of a rundown tavern, he approached a lone door on the second floor and knocked.

Nothing.

Roman knocked again, cursing his luck. Had he gone all this way for nothing? Trying the handle, he found it unlocked and slowly opened the door. It stopped after a few inches, as if blocked by something. Roman pushed harder, hearing something heavy scraping against the floor as the door gradually opened wider. He peeked his head in to see an enormous iron hammer hurtling at his face. Roman lurched backward, saving his skull by a hair’s breadth.

“Oh, it’s just you,” a cheerful voice said from inside. Roman put a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself, as two slender hands appeared from behind the door and pried the long-handled hammer out of the hole it had smashed in the wall.

Linda poked her head out and grinned at him. “Come on in, Roman.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Logan puffed as he ran down the sandy beach, watching the morning sky lighten out of the corner of his eye. His shoulders and back ached from hauling water down to camp—an early morning exercise Mikhail had integrated into his training—though the pain wasn’t as debilitating as it had been during the first few days. It wasn’t getting easier, per se, but rather Logan was simply growing used to the physical discomfort.

Mikhail jogged next to him, not even slightly out of breath. Both the water hauling and the running were methods, according to Mikhail, of increasing Logan’s stamina and endurance. Logan didn’t know the exact distance they ran around the island’s perimeter, but it was easily upwards of ten miles. They ran barefoot, as the homemade sandals weren’t robust enough to handle such treatment. It wasn’t much of an issue, though. They simply had to skirt around the rocky portions near Eudora’s cave.

Logan’s breath had steadily grown harder, and he began wheezing as they approached the driftwood log that marked the halfway point. Mikhail put a hand on his shoulder and slowed to a stop, holding out the canteen before he could complain.

“It’s not about speed, Logan.”

He fixed Mikhail with a look, taking the canteen from him. “Says the man who could run this three times over in under an hour.”

“We both know I’m no mere man,” he chuckled.

Logan took a swallow of water and handed the jug back, fighting to calm his breathing so they could start again. Running got ten times more miserable once the sun rose and began heating the sand. Despite his fatigue, he noticed Mikhail’s eyes glaze over a bit, a reaction that had been imperceptible to Logan at first. He was speaking with the abomination.

Mikhail blinked, eyes refocusing. “Once you can run the entire way without stopping, we’ll move on, I think,” he said. “Hopefully, by then, we could spar a few rounds before you’re tired out. Have you thought over what I asked yesterday?”

“Yes. Though, I’d like your honest opinion as someone far more experienced in this field.”

“Alright.”

“Assuming the battery theory works,” he began, “I’m fairly confident in predicting our escape from the island occurring within the next month or two. Of course, this is a best-case scenario, but I’d rather be ready sooner than caught under-prepared.”

Mikhail gave a nod, though his expression hardened. None of them enjoyed bringing up the escape, as if they still didn’t quite believe him. Patton was the one exception.

“I figure any martial discipline will take a significant amount of time to become proficient in, let alone master, and due to my lack of magical abilities, I believe it would be more practical for me to learn the use of some kind of long distance weapon, magical or otherwise.”

“I agree,” Mikhail said. “A bow, then?”

“Exactly.”

“I do have experience with archery,” he admitted, rubbing his beard. “You’re planning to use this weapon against the dragon witch, though. Arrows won’t do much to someone like that. What’s stopping her from forcing the bow away from you?”

Logan grinned. “I thought of that. When Jorryn located iron deposits for the batteries, we didn’t have Eudora extract all of it, right? There could be enough to forge a bow.”

“An iron bow? Doesn’t sound very practical. It would be extremely heavy, not to mention you’d need a bowstring that could handle that much tension.”

“That’s where alchemy comes in. I need iron for its antimagic properties, not its hardness or weight. I’ll have to ask Killian about the specifics, but assuming we could counteract the weight and rigidity of the iron, it could work.”

“And the arrows? They could easily be diverted with magic.”

“Same principle as the bow, hypothetically,” Logan shrugged. “We’ll know more once we make them and can run tests.”

Mikhail eyed him. “You really thought this out, huh?”

“We’re already building the forge to cast the battery casings,” he said. “And Killian was a blacksmith before becoming a carpenter, so he should be able to help us. It…” Logan noticed the sun peeking over the watery horizon. “I spoke too much,” he said, shifting on his feet. “We should probably get going.”

“No, let’s head back to camp. We can cut through the middle. I want to hear more of this idea of yours, te’kundi,” Mikhail said, smiling.

“What?”

“It’s witchtongue. A title we give to those smarter than ourselves.”

Logan flushed, following him into the trees. “I really don’t think—”

“Take the compliment, te’kundi,” Mikhail chuckled, slapping him on the back. “We’ve got work to do.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Linda held the two silver shils between her fingers, lifting them up and admiring them like a jeweler, letting out a low whistle. She leaned precariously in a chair, feet propped up on her desk. Her infamous iron hammer lay across her desk. Its thick square head tapered down to a wickedly sharp point at the other end, the handle about the length of Roman’s arm. Iron weapons were expensive and Roman rarely saw one outside of the iron-spear-wielding Court Guard, but they were some of the most effective weapons against witches. For a non-magical witch like Linda, it was the main reason she kept her more powerful clients under her thumb.

“Well, you were right. That’ll just about do it for your loan,” she said with a sigh, tossing the coins up and catching them in a fist. Linda eyed him with a grin. “Sure you don’t want to borrow some more?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll be sure to call on you again should the need arise,” he said with a bow and flourish.

Linda’s grin split, showing her teeth, and she sat up. “That uniform’s taught you manners, I see. Shame to see you go. You’re one of my best behaved clients,” she pouted, glancing around her office. It was a wreck—like someone had tried to rob her. Or kill her. The heavy object blocking the door had been a chest made of dark wood with brass fittings. Framed maps lay shattered on the floor, drawers hung at odd angles from dressers as if someone had yanked them open, and Roman was pretty sure that was blood spatter in the corner, though Linda didn’t look injured.

“Thank you, Linda. Kaia cas de,” he said sincerely, ready to put as much distance between him and this woman as possible. She was nice, yes. But something in that smile told him if he didn’t part ways with her now, he never would.

Linda’s face softened, but before she could so much as utter a reply, the door slammed open and three people rushed into the room. Roman whirled, only to get tackled to the floor by a short, burly man. Linda leaped atop her desk, swinging her iron hammer at one of the two, cracking the woman in the head with the flat end. The other hesitated.

A fist met Roman’s face. He saw stars as the man pinned him to the floor with surprising efficiency, clamping a grimy hand over his mouth.

“You just be nice and compliant,” he sneered. “Don’t try anything, and we might let you live.”

“You killed her!” the man left standing screamed, kneeling by the one Linda had struck. He was leaner than his companion, with a purplish birthmark across his face. He reached out to the bleeding, unconscious woman with trembling, hesitant hands.

“You’re both trying to kill me, Dossen,” Linda said, rolling her eyes. “It’s basic self defence. Now, I’d thank you to leave and tell whoever sent you to come themselves next time.”

Roman’s mind raced, trying to orient himself. The right side of his face throbbed, and the man’s fingernails dug into his cheek, keeping him from opening his mouth. They don’t know if I’m non-magical or not, he figured in the back of his mind. He’s keeping me from using witchtongue. Not that he would have used it, anyway. He’d only started learning more witchtongue from Amaryllis a week ago. Roman didn’t trust himself not to overdo it again if things got ugly.

“You know that isn’t how Kildev works,” Dossen sneered, retreating from his friend’s limp form and unsheathing two curved knives.

Linda’s flippancy wavered. “Kildev? Since when do you work for him?”

Dossen shrugged. “Since he pays more.”

Roman? Virgil’s voice filled his mind. What’s wrong? Where are you?

Linda’s. The man squeezed Roman’s arms to his sides with his legs. Roman’s breath picked up through his nose even as he fought for calm. He couldn’t afford to make a scene here. He just had to wait it out and hope, for their sakes, they didn’t attack him.

Roman felt scales. He shivered, cringing.

“Vero Kaia,” swore the one holding him down. “He’s one of the Chief’s runners.”

Dossen backed toward where Roman lay pinned, not taking his eyes off Linda or her hammer. “Looks like I’ve got a hostage, and a pricey one at that.” He pointed one of the knives at Roman.

“Leave him out of this.”

“Drop the hammer.”

Roman, I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold on.

Linda charged, and Dossen yelped, clearly expecting her to have hesitated with his new leverage. Against a hammer, his close-range knives were practically useless unless he threw them. And he did. Linda barely dodged the one soaring at her face, though it scored a nasty gash from her cheek to her ear.

The other sank hilt deep into Roman’s thigh. One last-ditch effort to pull the hostage card.

Roman!

The sudden pain tore through any semblance of control he had. Roman’s ears began to ring. The man atop him gasped and yanked his hand back, like he’d touched a hot stovetop. Roman surged upward, toppling the man backward. He pressed a hand against the man’s chest. Through the haze of pain, every defensive spell Amaryllis had taught him since they’d arrived fled his mind, and he growled the first thing he could think of.

“Baesta.”

A deafening crack split the air as the wooden floor beneath them buckled inward. Roman lurched forward, his hand slipping through the gaping hole in the man’s chest. He was dead instantly. Blood ran from his nose and eyes, like he’d imploded from the inside. Dossen was nowhere to be seen. Linda stood with her hammer held limply at her side.

“Mother of magic,” she breathed, staring at the horrendous sight. Roman pulled back, hand covered in gore. His glove was gone. Torn apart. What was the word for healing again? He couldn’t think straight. He was too tired and hungry.

Something shot through his connection to Virgil. A sudden, far away surge of power. Roman, what’s going on? Please, talk to me. I’m almost there.

Roman was somehow numb and barely holding it together at the same time. He couldn’t meet Linda’s eye as he extracted himself from the bloody corpse. “Isumani,” he whispered. Heal everything. Just make it all normal again.

Magic burst out of him, filling the room. The floor creaked and shuddered beneath them as it knit itself back together. Blood flowed back into the man’s body, the hole Roman had punched through him slowly healing. His own leg sewed itself shut, the knife clattering to the floor.

And it didn’t stop there.

The room began righting itself, shattered glass coming back together, frames rehanging themselves. Linda gave a surprised gasp as the gash on her face closed without leaving a trace.

The woman Linda had bashed in the head shuddered and stumbled to her feet, wound still healing. She took one look around the room and fled. Linda did nothing to stop her, staring in astonishment at the scene unfolding before her.

The man beneath Roman gasped back to life. He scrambled away, shoving Roman away. The stranger was too shocked to scream, but his eyes were full of fear. Roman let him leave, squeezing his eyes shut against the fresh memories of what he’d done. All the healing magic in the world couldn’t fix the lingering feeling of blood on his hands. The fear in their eyes.

I’m supposed to be their savior, he thought numbly.

“Roman. You can stop now,” Linda said, sounding like she was trying very hard to remain calm. Confused, he cracked his blurry eyes open to see leafy branches sprouting from the floorboards and poking through the paint on the walls. Healing magic still flowed through him like an open faucet. Strange golden light dappled the room, flickering across Linda’s face as she stared at him.

He looked down at his hands and yelped in surprise. Amber splotches of light moved across his skin like air bubbles underwater. Roman’s pulse thundered in his ears as he tried to brush the light off of him, but it just felt like his skin. The moving patches were warm and sent tingles up his fingers when he touched them. Was this some kind of magic sickness? The idea sent a stab of panic through him. He couldn’t handle one more thing to worry about. Running for Valerie, and performing for Bodbyn, and learning from Amaryllis, and keeping his identity secret, and saving all his friends, and defeating Ursula.

He was so tired.

A monstrous thud shook the roof, and Linda swore. The building creaked under a mysterious weight that moved down toward the door. Of course, Roman thought half-hysterically, grabbing his head. One more magical beast I’ve got to defeat.

An enormous feline head poked through the doorway—now nothing more than an archway of curved branches. Roman, Virgil asked, blinking amber eyes the size of dinner plates at him. Are you hurt?

Roman couldn’t form a coherent reply—vocal or mental. The branches grew thicker and longer, a multi-armed helix of trees reformed from planks of wood, a crown of greenery blossoming high above them. It all sprouted from where Roman knelt. The trees responded to his thoughts, and at that moment, there wasn’t anything Roman wanted more than for Virgil to be close to him. The opening widened, and Virgil padded past a dumbfounded Linda. Leaves sprouted from the handle of her hammer.

It’s okay, Roman. I’m here. You’re safe now. Virgil curled up around him. Roman clung to his fur, trembling.

“What’s happening to me?” he breathed, looking at the strange light taking over his body.

Your core’s showing. It’s totally normal, Roman. All witches have them. I’m in my core form right now, and I’m not too scary, right? he replied, a thunderous purr rumbling through him. Take some deep breaths for me, yeah? Everything’s going to be all right.

Roman took a shaky breath, burying his face in Virgil’s fur. He could feel Virgil’s underlying fear and worry, kept carefully in control so it didn’t freak Roman out more. It was nice, however, not having to be the mentally strong one this time.

“I can’t do it,” he whimpered.

Can’t do what?

“Everything.”

You’re right—and you shouldn’t have to. I keep forgetting that none of this is normal for you. I’m sorry. We’ll talk to Valerie and figure something else out, okay? Trust me.

Roman, finally, relaxed. The lights across his skin faded away, and the trees around them stopped growing. His stomach growled petulantly, and Virgil’s ears perked up.

Have you eaten, yet?

Roman shook his head, exhausted. He just wanted to sleep.

Roman, you need to eat something. Can you climb onto my back?

He swallowed back a sigh and clambered up onto Virgil’s back, grabbing loose fists of his thick fur to keep himself from falling off. Virgil stood and padded to the exit.

“Sorry about all of this,” he said as they passed Linda.

Having recovered from her initial shock, she just laughed. “Are you kidding? This’ll be great for my new business!” she said, gesturing to the massive tree around her. “Now I just have to figure out what that business will be…”

“Right,” Roman chuckled weakly, feeling scraped hollow. “Good luck, Linda.”

She gave him a nod, already surveying the interior, muttering to herself. Roman turned his attention to the street below and his heart sank.

A crowd had formed around the tree. People pointed up at them, most shouting in excitement and wonder, though a thick-armed tavern keep standing atop a root as thick as his own torso looked particularly upset about the impromptu redesign of his shop. What made him the most nervous were the undeniable mutterings of “heir of prophecy” he could hear even from this distance.

You going to be okay?

Roman took a deep breath. “I certainly hope so.”

The climb down wasn’t easy, and Roman had to cling to Virgil’s back to keep from falling as they scrambled down the trunk. People backed away, clearing a spot for Virgil to drop the rest of the way to the ground, landing nimbly without jostling Roman too much.

He craned his head back and marveled at his towering creation. “At least it’s pretty,” he muttered. The experience sure hadn’t been.

A deep growl from Virgil snapped his attention back to the crowd, who had inched closer, curious.

“Stay back,” he warned, voice gravely and inhuman—similar to Dorian’s. Roman hadn’t heard him speak like this since their fiasco in the basement with Remus. It was comforting and unsettling at the same time. Thankfully, the crowd didn’t push their luck, remaining where they were.

“Is it true?” a voice from the sea of faces called. “You’re the Last Heir of prophecy?”

“He’s too young,” another retorted.

Roman swallowed, his throat dry. “Um…”

“No, no, look at his hand!”

“The Star of Kaia!”

“I want to know who’s paying for damages,” the tavern keeper said, arms folded.

“Quiet!” Virgil said, fur bristling. Everyone’s eyes went wide, mouths shutting. “The Heir has arrived, and he is very tired. So help me, if any of you disturb him, you’ll be taking your questions up with Kaia herself in the afterworld. Am I understood?”

Most either nodded or looked away, terrified. Resigned as he was, Roman couldn’t help but feel for them. They were just curious. He doubted they meant any harm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his voice so hopefully they could all hear him, “for any damage I’ve caused.”

“Sorry won’t fix my ruined business!” the tavern keeper shouted. Several witches shot him dirty looks. One even elbowed him and muttered something. “What?” he said, rounding on them. “I’m just supposed to grovel at his feet cause he ruined my livelihood in a flashy way?”

Roman was so tired he wasn’t sure if he would start laughing or burst into tears. He didn’t know what to do. He was this supernatural hero who could grow mystical trees without a second thought, but couldn’t for the life of him fix what he’d screwed up.

Virgil let out a low, warning noise, and the man paled.

“Oh, stop your whining, Galphin!” Linda shouted down from the tree hollow, brandishing her leafy hammer. “Cut out a new door, or something. This witch just made your tavern the hotspot of the Capital and you’re crying like a Brownie over tarnished silver. Get over yourself.”

Galphin spluttered, face flushing red. A few in the crowd let out soft laughter. “You’ve got no right—”

“In fact!” Linda said, that same grin spreading across her face. “I’m the reason Golden Boy was even here to begin with, so looks like you owe me for the renovation.”

“Owe you? This is ridiculous. I let you run your shady little business above my tavern, noke!”

Linda laughed. “Oh, please, don’t you know the best way to get what you want is to let the other person think they’re making the deal? Now, there’s going to be a steady interest on the property tax I’m issuing, so I suggest you get to work before I call the Guard for substantial debts taken without intent to pay.” She shot Roman a look and winked.

Roman nodded his thanks, patting Virgil on the shoulder. The familiar started away from the tree, the crowd silently parting around them. He noticed a few cheeks wet with tears, and Roman desperately hoped no one broke out into some kind of religious preaching. Thankfully, they all kept a respectful distance. Roman did his best to sit up straight, despite wanting to pass out, and even managed a weak smile.

An adolescent, perhaps fourteen, reached a tentative hand out, brushing Virgil’s leg with their fingertips as they passed. Virgil looked down at them, and they instantly retracted their hand.

Be nice, Roman admonished, scratching his fingers through the fur between Virgil’s shoulders.

I am being nice, he said, tail flicking. We can be a parade attraction some other time, though.

Agreed.

It was a long walk from Linda’s place to Valerie’s estate. Nearly across the entire city. Roman couldn’t guess the distance, but figured at the pace they were going, it’d be at least an hour before they arrived. Thankfully, it was late enough now that the streets were somewhat empty. Roman couldn’t imagine having to make this trek in the middle of a bustling market. While the crowd that had formed around the tree incident had indeed remained respectful and quiet, Virgil’s threats hadn’t kept them from trailing behind as they made their way through the city.

The ride wasn’t very comfortable either, despite the softness of Virgil’s fur. Felines weren’t exactly meant to ferry around passengers, no matter their size. The bumps of Virgil’s spine pressed uncomfortably against him, and despite the fact that he’d removed his messenger’s jacket and bundled it up into a makeshift cushion, Roman was sure he’d be regretting it in the morning with bruises in unsavory places.

Still, he silently enjoyed the distance it put between him and the people, and despite the aches, the gentle swaying motion as Virgil walked lulled him into a kind of half-awake daze.

You should try sleeping, Ro. It’ll be a while before we arrive, Virgil said, glancing over his shoulder at him.

Yeah, he said absently, but made no move to lay down. This form isn’t… hard for you to keep up, is it?

Witchgods, Roman, just let me take care of you, he laughed, exasperated. After a moment, however, he conceded, explaining, I could stay like this as long as I wanted. It’s the transformation itself that takes magical energy.

Right, Roman said. How’s it going with Amaryllis and your talisman? They worked on Virgil using his powers without the talisman while Roman was busy playing muhlte for patrons at Goldfire, so Roman rarely saw the training himself.

She says I’m making progress, he admitted after a pause.

Roman’s head bobbed as he struggled to stay awake. That’s good… I’m proud of you…

Virgil said nothing, plodding along at a steady, hypnotic pace. Roman slumped forward, which distributed his weight and relieved some of the pain from sitting up on Virgil’s back.

He let out a tired sigh, and, at last, let his mind slip into unconsciousness.

* * * * * * * * * *

Most of the crowd had dispersed when Virgil reached the edge of the West Market, the last few stragglers only trailing behind for a few minutes more as he followed the rail lines through the arcane district—the most direct path back to Valerie’s estate. The Djel Triba came into view, and Virgil felt a measure of relief. He’d kept his worries in check as well as he could manage, not wanting to wake Roman up. But walking alone through a potentially hostile city at night, despite his current size, was paranoia-inducing. The scuttle of various city-dwelling fae in the shadows kept him on edge.

We’ll be fine, Virgil, Amaryllis assured him for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d picked her up from Goldfire.

We don’t know how Valerie will react, he said. Some of the judges wanted to throw him in prison. What if what just happened convinces her they were right?

Something’s got to change, Virgil. Roman has to master these powers in three months, and we’ve only covered the basics of witchtongue in the past two weeks. I’m sure Valerie will understand.

What if she doesn’t?

What if she does? she countered. Virgil sighed, dropping the issue. Roman snored softly against his fur, completely asleep. He had to be careful not to shift his weight too much, or he’d risk Roman sliding off his back.

Passing the Djel Triba itself, they made their way down a long cobble drive that split off every half mile or so, sectioning off the different judge’s estates. Valerie’s was in the back, a stately building of skilled stone masonry with tall, well-lit windows. Not nearly as big as Virgil had anticipated.

The two guards stationed at the front door looked at each other, confused.

“You’re… the Heir’s familiar. Right?” one of them asked.

Virgil turned a bit, revealing the sleeping Roman. He didn’t like speaking aloud in this form unless he had to. Reminded him too much of Dorian.

The two guards stiffened.

“Is he injured?” the other asked, stepping forward.

No. Let us in, Virgil snapped in both of their minds. The two of them jumped, startled.

Amaryllis floated ahead of Virgil, shooting him a chastising look that he met with defiance. “He’s perfectly fine,” she amended. “Just asleep. However, we have some pressing matters to discuss with the Chief Judge, if you would be so kind as to escort us.”

These guards, thankfully, didn’t look at Amaryllis like she was the undead scum of the earth. One nodded to the other and led them inside. The doorway wasn’t quite big enough for Virgil, but he was agile enough to slink through without displacing his sleeping witch. They were handed off to one of the house staff, who bowed silently to them and guided them down the hall. The servant was a short woman—or, at least, she looked short from Virgil’s perspective. She kept shooting glances at Roman’s limp form. He followed her line of sight and found she was interested in the gold mark on Roman’s hand hanging over Virgil’s side.

So was everyone, it seemed.

Virgil kicked himself for not realizing how overtaxed Roman was getting earlier. They shared a mental link, for Witch Queen’s sake. He still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened at Linda’s. The echo of Roman’s pain he’d felt still haunted him. Whatever had occurred, Roman had erased with healing magic. Maybe once he was awake, Virgil could pry the story out of him.

They stopped outside another large pair of doors. The servant pressed a hand against a small panel in the wall inscribed with lines of alchemy, and it sunk inward about an inch. The massive doors swung open of their own accord, revealing a spacious, but noticeably empty, sitting room. The servant strode inside and squatted near a fireplace on the left side of the room. Muttering a soft, “Merint,” a fire burst to life from her fingertips.

She stood, facing them. “The Chief Judge is in her personal quarters at the moment. Please wait here while I inform her of your presence,” the woman said with another deep bow to both Virgil and Amaryllis before exiting.

Virgil ducked through the doorway, once again careful to keep Roman balanced across his back. Amaryllis trailed throughout the room, looking at the artwork on the walls. A row of tall windows lined the back wall, revealing a lush garden lit by amber lanterns. Virgil positioned himself between the sitting area and window, giving him a good view of the entire room—doors included. He slowly lowered onto his stomach, resting, but ready to get up and run if he had to.

Amaryllis looked over. “You know, he’d probably be more comfortable on one of the couches.”

He’s fine where he is.

She conceded with a shrug. Truth was, Virgil wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his anxiety in check if he didn’t have the comforting weight of his witch on his back, his soft puffs of breath across his fur, or the occasional shifting that reminded Virgil he was still alive and well.

His ears swiveled, picking up steady, clinking footsteps growing closer to the sitting room’s open doors. Valerie appeared in the doorway soon after, in her typical suit of scaled armor. Her smile disappeared when she saw Roman unconscious, and she stepped into the room.

“What happened?”

He’s just asleep.

She relaxed a bit, folding her arms. “While I’m glad to hear that, Virgil, it doesn’t answer my question.”

Virgil vacillated on how much to tell her. He still didn’t trust the woman, though he liked her more than the other judges. There was another incident. Similar to what happened with the Captain of the Guard when we arrived.

Valerie paled. “Is anyone injured?”

I don’t think so. I wasn’t with him when it happened, but if anything, he healed things a bit too much.

“What do you mean?”

I mean you’ve got a giant tree growing in the south end of the West Market, now.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Amaryllis said. “I could see it from Goldfire.”

Valerie began pacing around the room. “As long as no one was injured… Wait, why weren’t you with him? Aren’t you two inseparable?”

Virgil’s tail whipped back and forth. That’s why we’re here. You realize you left us destitute, right?

She stopped, staring at him. “What? Did you not contact Bodbyn? She should have—”

She fulfilled her favor to you and let us use a room, but food was never a part of the deal. Virgil tensed, fighting to keep his anger in check in case he woke Roman. It wasn’t working very well. Roman wasn’t making any money from running for you, so he took out a loan to buy an instrument so he could work for one meal a day. I had to get a separate job just to help pay off his loan. That’s why I wasn’t with him.

“One meal a—why didn’t he tell me?” Valerie said, running a stressed hand through her hair. “I saw him every morning! I thought… I had no idea…”

He didn’t want to impose, Virgil sneered. And now, because he’s been so busy running all over the city for you, he’s wasted two weeks where he could have been learning to control his powers instead. You have no idea what’s at stake here.

Amaryllis came between them, holding out her hands. “That’s enough, Virgil. Valerie is aware of the situation now.” She turned to the Chief Judge. “We’ve come to rework the agreement. Roman needs time to study and practice using his powers, otherwise incidents are going to keep happening.”

“I agree. I’ll speak with the other judges. Hopefully, this won’t turn into another trial.” Valerie bowed her head in Virgil’s direction. “Regardless, I apologize for my ignorance, joka iskaia. It will not happen again.”

He nodded back to her, blinking slowly.

“I will have my staff prepare quarters for you immediately. You are welcome to the meals as they are served during the day—” she glanced at Roman—“but you may help yourself to our kitchen tonight, though the cook has retired for the evening. Myla, the woman who showed you here, will take you to your rooms once they are ready. Ask her for anything you may need.”

“Thank you,” Amaryllis said. “I’m sure Roman will thank you once he’s awake.”

Valerie shook her head. “He doesn’t need to. I’m simply doing what I should have from the beginning. Goodnight.” And with that, she departed.

Amaryllis turned to Virgil with a smile. “That went well!”

Yes, Virgil admitted. He may not trust Valerie yet, but this might have been the first step in the right direction they’d taken since arriving.

#graphic depictions of violence #panic #tw panic #tw blood and gore #tw violence #minor character death #COTN #creatures of the night

[kiraelric]

Surprise! Present for @flaniimii  as part of @bkdksecretsanta

Married Verse! Fluff Fic featuring Pro-Heroes Ground Zero and Deku! 

________

“Why the fuck am I wearing this?” Katsuki growled as he came out of the single bedroom in their apartment with a huge frown on his face. 

Red cloth donned his frame from head to top, a Santa hat hiding his usual mess of blond spikes. 

“Because you put it on, I didn’t make you Kacchan.”  Izuku answered with a grin curling up on his lips. 

“You know what I mean, jackass. Don’t get smart with me!!!!”  

Izuku only chuckled, lifting himself from the couch in their living room while lifting up the bag that sat on the floor at his side. “Because Santa needs to make an appearance at the orphanage, and you said you’d do it Ground Zero.”  He sounds once more, leaning forward in attempt to kiss the other on his cheek. 

Katsuki however promptly leans away, shoving a gloved hand in the younger’s pro-hero’s face. “No kisses Deku.  I don’t want the paint on your nose smudged all over my face.” 

Izuku pouted making the small animal nose painted upon his all the more apparent. “But - But Kacchan...” 

“But Kacchan nothin’ - get movin’ Rudolph.”

“But my nose isn’t red -” 

“The kids aren’t gunna wait all night.”  

“Alright alright, I never thought you’d be so good with kids.” 

“Neither did I.” 

Large eyes met the sight of them when the door opened; a decent sized tree was in the corner of the room, lights strung along the edge of the walls mixed with the glitter of the tinsel they were paired with. 

“Santa! Santa!” one small girl shouted running up to the pair, giving Katsuki little time to prepare but still he dropped to one knee and met her with a mighty hug. 

“That’s not Santa, moron. That’s Ground Zero and Deku.” one of the elder boys added from the corner of the room.  “So cool.”

An elder woman stood behind the small herd of children before them with a thankful look on her face.  

Katsuki took the lead, reaching behind himself to the bag they brought and began passing out presents both large and small to the excited hands around them.  It was a sight to see. Katsuki Bakugou smiling with a small girl on his knee and it was in that moment that Izuku found himself rubbing a finger against the gold ring on his left hand. 

Never did he ever think he would get so lucky, so lucky as to be blessed to married to someone as wonderful as his very best friend.  

“What?!” 

“Deku! Deku you’ve got a dumb look on your face.” 

Snapping back to reality from his brief pause, he was met with black fabric waving in front of his face. 

“Sorry Kacchan  I didn’t - Crap sorry - I didn’t - “

The irritated look in red eyes was enough to remind him of his slip up - he was still so horrible about not calling the other by his proper alias.  

A tug on the sleeve of his jumper, and Izuku looked down to follow it. “Mr. Deku! Why’d you call him ‘Kacchan’? That’s not his name. Are you close?” A girl at his side chimed. 

“And you’re wearing a ring. Do you make kissy face with him then? Grown-ups who wear rings make kissy faces with each other.” Another chimed causing the skin behind his freckles to burn. 

“Girls. It’s rude to ask such things. I think it might be time for bed soon.”  The elder woman in the corner sounded as she made her way through the crowd of small bodies to the heroes before her. 

“Alright now. I’m sure these gentleman have places to be. Say thank you now.” 

A chorus of thanks sounded for a moment before the elders began to help corral the younger children off to their rooms to sleep.  

Katsuki let out a sigh of relief, while Izuku waved good bye to the youngers who were lagging behind. The elder woman smiling, taking one of their hands in each of their own and looked to them with a tearful gaze. 

“Thank You.” She started, her eyes glistening in the light of the Christmas Tree. “I don’t know what I can say that truly expresses my gratitude for what you two did. These kids; they’re down on their luck. Most of them lost their parents to some kind of villain related incident and all they really have are you heroes. So it really means a lot to them that you’d even take the time to show up for them.  A lot of heroes now-a-days don’t take the time to do things for us smaller folk so Than-” 

“Thank you.” Izuku interrupted. “Thank you for supporting us. If it wasn’t for kids like them we wouldn’t be where we are. It’s the least we can do to help out. Hero work is about service after all. Please, be safe this holiday.” 

By the time he’d finished, Katsuki had already pulled the final gift from the bag they’d brought. It was small, just a plain white envelope and nothing more. He handed to the woman and waited for her to open it. Tears streamed down her face as she looked to the two of them for explanation. 

“That should be enough to feed the kids for most of next year.” The blond explained pointing to the check in her hands. “And don’t worry about it. We’re the top ranking heroes in the country.”  

Black gloved palms covered her own as the shook with emotion. “This is the least we can do.” 

Both of them smiled at her, but we quickly taken in for a warm hug for several more moments. 

“Thank you. Thank you both so much.” was all she could say as they left. 

“Merry Christmas.” They finished with a wave. 

- 

“That was unexpected of you Kacchan.”  Izuku chimed, giving the elder a bump with his hip. “If you wanted to donate something, you could have just told me I would have pitched in.” 

“And have you one up me? Not a chance.” 

Izuku’s lips frowned as the response. He should have known this would have been made into some kind of competition.  “Oh is that was this is? Then why did you tell her it was from both of us?” 

“I - I - I can do what I want Deku.” 

“It’s unlike you to be so soft. Maybe the Christmas spirit is getting to you, eh, Santa?” He teased, bumping himself up against the other once again. 

Katsuki caught him in the act, wrapping his arms around the smaller man, and spinning on his feet so they were face to face - almost nose to nose. 

“Watch yourself, Deku.” He started with a playful grin. “Keep it up and Santa might have to ride his reindeer tonight.” He spoke with a purr, leaning in to steal a kiss from the man he married. 

“Ooh, really?” Izuku purred back, pushing himself forward to steal a kiss of his own and taking great measures to make sure he smeared the paint on his nose against the blond’s cheek. 

He leaned back with a grin, smiling mischievously at his husband. Red eyes took their time in that moment looking over the other before he noticed the smeared brown paint on Izuku’s nose. 

“Y-Y-You didn’t.” Izuku only grinned wider.  “Dammit Deku I told you.” 

Izuku was already running away. 

“GET BACK HERE COWARD!!!” Came the booming sound of Katsuki’s fury. “GET BACK HERE AND PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID!” 

The reindeer clad man refused to comply and as such was met with an assault of snowballs from behind. Laughing, using just enough of his quirk to make it a simple matter to dodge. 

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. 

“NO QUIRKS! CHEATER! FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!” 

But in the moment that Izuku moved to scoop some snow off the ground, he found the one stray patch of ice and landed directly on his ass. 

Laughing filled the air, mixing with Izuku’s groans.  A hand extended, offering to help the fallen hero to his feet.  “You- You are - you are such a klutz.” Katsuki spoke through laughter. “No matter what all these years later and you’re still a Deku.” 

“Kacchan it’s Christmas. Don’t be rude. ” Izuku pouted, narrowing his eyes at his husband. 

“You married me and you expect me to not be rude?” Katsuki asked sarcastically, bending down to scoop his emerald haired counterpart up his arms. 

Izuku threw his arms over the blond’s shoulders and smiled. Laughing at the other comment, he settled into his new found position. “I married you because I love you. Not because you’re rude.” He paused, leaning even more against the other. “I can walk Kacchan, you don’t have to carry me.” 

“You seem awful comfy for someone who can walk, besides I wouldn’t want you to break your ass, Deku.”  Grinning, his expression spread with mischief across his features. “Now how bad did you get my face?” 

Leaning away enough to check, Izuku just grins like a child, and in response he’s thrown over the blond’s shoulder. 

“Kacchan what the hell?!” 

“I know that face. Think you’re getting away with it?! Ha, naughty kids get carried like bags of coal. Gotta take you home for your punishment.” Katsuki sounded with a triumphant purr. 

“Kaaacccchan” Izuku began to whine. 

“I’m not listening. You’re on my naughty list, Izuku.” 

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bakudeku secret santa 2017 #boku no hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #kacchan #deku #kira's fics #kira writes

[orbemnews]

What Warren Buffett Is Buying Warren Buffett is playing it safe Berkshire Hathaway’s latest annual results, and the accompanying letter to investors from the Oracle of Omaha, reveal a clear theme: Warren Buffett isn’t taking as many risks — or big swings at deal-making — as he used to. Berkshire is spending more of its $138 billion in cash on smaller investments, as opposed to deploying it on the huge acquisitions that he famously made in the past. The conglomerate bought back nearly $25 billion of its own shares last year, a record for a company that until recently was reluctant to spend its cash this way. Mr. Buffett admitted a big mistake in his last foray into blockbuster deal-making. He wrote that the $37 billion he paid for Precision Castparts, a maker of airplane parts, was too much. (The 2016 transaction resulted in a $10 billion write-down last year.) “No one misled me in any way,” he wrote. “I was simply too optimistic.” Berkshire’s biggest bets don’t look particularly contrarian. They include a $120 billion stake in Apple and majority stakes in the Burlington Northern railroad and Berkshire Hathaway Energy. Berkshire’s stock is up but has underperformed the S&P 500 in recent years. Mr. Buffett isn’t bullish on bonds, writing that bond investors face a “bleak future” amid signs of anxiety in the debt markets, and he warned that “risky loans” and other ways to juice fixed-income returns would lead to ruin. Investors don’t seem to mind that Mr. Buffett has put down his so-called elephant gun for big acquisitions, at least for now. “He doesn’t really have to find the elephant because he has two elephants already corralled that need to be fed,” said Thomas Russo, a Berkshire shareholder, referring to the railroad and energy companies. That suggests investors are on board with Berkshire focusing on buybacks and its existing businesses rather than bold new bets — for now. HERE’S WHAT’S HAPPENING Senate Democrats will drop a minimum wage increase from the stimulus bill. The move came after the Senate parliamentarian ruled that increasing the federal rate to $15 an hour broke the chamber’s rules, The Wall Street Journal reports. The House, which had approved the wage increase in its version of the $1.9 trillion bill, must sign off on the change. The F.D.A. approves Johnson & Johnson’s Covid-19 vaccine. The one-shot treatment is the latest to win emergency approval, as the decline in new coronavirus cases appears to have plateaued. But supplies of J.&J.’s vaccine will be limited at first. President Biden won’t sanction Saudi Arabia’s No. 2 leader over Jamal Khashoggi’s murder. The decision not to punish the country’s crown prince, Mohammed bin Salman, over his approval of Mr. Khashoggi’s killing in 2018 was the latest sign that there are limited consequences for the act. Nasdaq presses forward with its board diversity proposal. The stock exchange’s plan to require companies listed on its market to have more diverse directors has overwhelming public support, it told the S.E.C. Nasdaq is making some tweaks, including giving companies a one-year grace period and offering more flexibility to companies with smaller boards. Streaming services dominate the Golden Globes. Netflix collected 10 awards last night, while Amazon’s “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” was the first title from a streamer to win best motion picture comedy or musical. What’s next for WeWork? SoftBank said on Friday that it had settled its legal dispute with Adam Neumann, opening the way for WeWork to go public just 16 months after SoftBank rescued it from collapse, The Times’s Peter Eavis reports. A recap: At the time of its rescue, SoftBank offered to buy $3 billion of stock from WeWork shareholders, including the co-founder Mr. Neumann, who stepped down as C.E.O. during the company’s disastrous I.P.O. attempt in 2019. Then, as the coronavirus was emptying WeWork offices, SoftBank said in April that it wouldn’t go ahead with the purchase, prompting Mr. Neumann to sue. Who came out ahead in the settlement? SoftBank is now spending only $1.5 billion on the stock, instead of $3 billion, according to two people with knowledge of the settlement. But the lower bill is because SoftBank is cutting the number of shares it will buy in half; that means Mr. Neumann will get $480 million instead of up to $960 million. (SoftBank has invested well over $10 billion in WeWork.) Mr. Neumann also secured some concessions, according to these people. SoftBank pledged to pay $50 million for his legal fees, to extend a $430 million loan it made to him by five years and to pay the last $50 million of a $185 million consulting fee it owed him. Now what? Settling the dispute removes a big obstacle to taking WeWork public. SoftBank has been in talks to merge with BowX Acquisition, a SPAC run by Vivek Ranadivé, the founder of Tibco Software and owner of the N.B.A.’s Sacramento Kings. Such a deal would raise some crucial questions: SoftBank owns 70 percent of WeWork’s shares but has direct control over just under half of shareholder votes. Would those numbers change after an offering? Who does control WeWork? Would investors balk at WeWork’s financial performance, again? It’s not clear how the company has performed recently; it last publicly disclosed its financials some 18 months ago. And a glut of office space is coming, which might be more attractive to companies than taking WeWork space. Individuals, meanwhile, may be less likely to use a co-working space now that they’ve gotten used to working from home. The week ahead The state of consumer spending is a theme, with a wide range of retailers reporting earnings, including Kohl’s, Nordstrom and Target on Tuesday; Dollar Tree on Wednesday; and Costco and Gap on Thursday. In other earnings news, later today Zoom is expected to release another blockbuster report, but executives will be quizzed on whether the company’s growth can continue when many workers return to the office. The annual meeting of the National People’s Congress of China begins on Friday, where the country’s latest five-year economic plan will be announced, among other measures. The latest U.S. jobs report is released on Friday, with economists expecting a gain of 165,000 jobs in February, up from 49,000 the previous month. Citi may face a shareholder vote on a racial equity audit Citigroup has no legal basis for blocking an investor proposal demanding a report on how its practices affect minority communities , the S.E.C. ruled Friday. That increases the likelihood that the bank’s board will have to examine itself in the glare of the public. Citi had asked the S.E.C. for permission to keep the proposal off its annual shareholder proxy. DealBook first reported last year that two investment groups linked to unions, the CtW and SEIU, would call on the country’s six largest banks to conduct “racial equity audits.” The unions asked them to work with civil rights groups, employees and customers on examinations of practices that would then be made public. In its submission to the S.E.C., Citi said it had already “substantially implemented the essential elements” of the proposal. But Dieter Waizenegger, the executive director of CtW Investment Group, told DealBook, “It’s important to establish an independent assessment” of the banks’ practices. Citi could face a legal fight if it chooses to ignore the proposal, after the commission refused to give the firm cover. A spokeswoman for the bank noted in a statement that it has committed more than $1 billion to help Black homeowners and entrepreneurs, as well as to better diversify its work force. “Citi is acutely focused on addressing racial inequity, especially in terms of the wealth gap it creates,” she added. A warning for ‘reckless’ buyouts Until recently, those who sold companies to private equity firms were not held liable if things went awry after the sale — that, after all, was the new owner’s problem. Those days may be over, Bill Cohan writes for Times Opinion. Officers and directors can be held responsible for approving a “reckless” sale, a New York federal court judge concluded in December. Jones Group, the struggling apparel company that owned Nine West and Stuart Weitzman, sold itself to Sycamore Partners in 2013. The buyout firm later changed the terms of the deal and the company’s debt exceeded bankers’ recommendations. Nine West filed for bankruptcy in 2018 and shareholders sued the Jones Group’s former directors. There is still a trial looming, but would-be sellers “had better think twice before agreeing to sell a company to a buyout firm,” Mr. Cohan wrote. In a message to clients, the law firm Ropes & Gray wrote that the ruling was “a serious warning,” noting that even though the selling directors may not be involved after an exit, they “cannot ignore” a company’s post-exit balance sheet. If a precedent is set, private equity firms could suffer, Mr. Cohan suggested: “The days of just selling a company to the highest bidder regardless of the consequences — the legal standard on Wall Street since the Delaware Supreme Court decided the so-called Revlon case in 1986 — might just be over.” Or not: lawyers at Fried Frank believe the broader implications of the case are “overstated,” noting that the facts of this case raised specific “red flags.” For more on the prospects for private equity deal-making, Bain’s latest annual report on the state of the industry is out today. “A number of headwinds will make for a uniquely challenging recovery,” it writes. THE SPEED READ Deals Robinhood reportedly plans to file confidentially for an I.P.O. as soon as this month. (Bloomberg) Retail investors in the SPAC that plans to merge with the electric carmaker Lucid are trying to rally support for its depressed shares on Reddit forums. (Business Insider) Politics and policy Gov. Andrew Cuomo of New York offered an apology for “insensitive” comments after a second former aide accused him of sexual harassment; he faces an independent investigation. (NYT) China is charging ahead with a national digital currency, rethinking how government-backed money works. (NYT) Tech Walmart hired Omer Ismail, who helped build out Goldman Sachs’s consumer finance arm, to lead a new fintech venture founded by the retail giant and Ribbit Capital. (Bloomberg) “Bias, disrespect, and demotions: Black employees say Amazon has a race problem” (Recode) Coinbase’s I.P.O. prospectus highlights how a few men control the biggest companies in cryptocurrency. (Bloomberg) Best of the rest The ousting of McKinsey’s leader underscores deep cracks in the consulting giant’s partnership. (WSJ) McDonald’s C.E.O. pledged support for women who have raised allegations of sexual discrimination and harassment at the fast-food chain. (McDonald’s, CBS News) Is Japan’s central bank a meme stock? (Bloomberg) We’d like your feedback! Please email thoughts and suggestions to [email protected]. Source link Orbem News #Buffett #buying #Warren

[uicyoulater]

How to be a Cheap (smart) Human #1

So, I’m a cheap ho. Well ok, I’m not always a ho but I’m cheap af and you should be too. Why? Cause money is hard and you should be smart with it when you can. Of course, there are definitely things I splurge on and things I could save even more on, but I’m pretty proud of myself so far. In this little series, I’m going to give my best tips for being a cheap ho. Some of these tips will be Korea-centric and some will be universal so anyone can use them.

The first step to being a cheap ho is to sort your consumption into 3 categories based on what you have control over changing.

A: Can’t change/Won’t change – Things that you need to pay for and can’t change (can sometimes change, but would require extreme effort and/or a significant lifestyle change) or Things you can change by choice but value highly and would not give up

B: Difficult to change – Things that you have the power to change but will either take time or higher effort

C: Easy to change – Things that you can (relatively) easily change by yourself and quickly

Of course, each of these categories will be different depending on the person. Some people can more easily make changes to their lives and habits than others and other people value things more than others. That is why you should think through this by yourself. Some things you think you can change will have extra explicit and implicit costs that you might not think of immediately. Take all of that into consideration.

Just to serve as an example, I’m going to list the things in my own categories below and why each thing is there if it’s questionable. I’ve never really written this down because it’s more or less ingrained in my mind now, but it can be helpful if you like to work through things on paper.

A: Can’t change/Won’t change

School tuition, other school/club fees, phone/internet service, Netflix, home items/toiletries (toilet paper, soap, detergent, shower items), medical costs

I took a big step coming to Korea to lower my tuition costs, but without that big change, I wouldn’t have been able to lower the price. I refuse to leave TKD, my wonderful Wi-Fi, and Netflix because I value my sanity. I have sensitive skin/hair so I refuse to change my products, though I must note that I use generally cheap stuff anyway so it doesn’t matter too much. Your health is important, so pay for it (or live on your parent’s health plan until age 26)

B: Difficult to change

Rent, transportation cost, utilities, strict food budgeting, cosmetics, flying home

Rent is difficult to change because moving takes time and money and many people value certain aspects of their homes very highly. In Korea, high deposits can make moving very difficult as well. One thing that could make moving worth it, though, might be transport. Korean public transport is cheap compared to the US, but it can still add up. If I go to school 5 days a week and ride the bus or subway there and back, I am spending about $10/week on transport. If I then need to use transport after school to go shopping, go to work, or return to school in order to participate in other activities, that is even more. If you move closer to where you go most often or just limit your use by being willing to walk more, then you can spend less. In general, if something is a <25-minute walk away then walking, unless injured, bad weather, carrying things, etc., is just as fast. Utilities can be lowered only slightly and only to a certain level, so just keep it in mind but don’t worry too much. I will get to my strict food budgeting later, but it requires some effort. If you like makeup like me, you understand that some things are worth paying for and some aren’t. It depends on you but I try to look for sales and dupes but I still value some mid-level priced items. Lastly, flying home is often a big cost during vacations. If you put in some effort to shop around, fly at an unpopular time, or join airline rewards programs then it can be cheaper. While I could personally fly in the cheapest seats of the cheapest airlines with 12-hour layovers, I value getting places relatively quickly and having good customer service, so I don’t go on the cheapest possible.

C: Easy to change

Snacking/delivery/group meals, going out, unneeded clothing, music/video streaming services (other than Netflix, optional expenses, the “stupid tax”)

Snacks are important, but so is money. Same thing with delivery. Of course, if you have a craving for fried chicken or pizza it would probably be more expensive to make it yourself unless you usually do. In that case, share the cost with others and limit your frequency. For example, the TKD club goes out after almost every practice for food. Sometimes it’s BBQ, sometimes ddokbokki, sometimes ramen, etc. I try to go out only once a week at most with them and only for food that I either can’t eat alone or really want to eat. Going with that, go out less. There are ways to get free/discounted entry and drinks at different places, which I could talk about at another time, but not going out at all is usually the best option. If you do go out, go with friends. Sometimes it is actually economical at some bars/clubs to buy a bottle or set of something and not just individual drinks. Just remember that drunk you will just spend like crazy so be careful. You don’t need more clothes if they all fit. On the other hand, if you have old clothes get rid of them. I don’t pay for music/video streaming other than Netflix because I don’t think I need it. For music, I use Soundcloud, Deezer, and Youtube with ad-block on. For video, I use Youtube and Project Free TV. Is it 100% legal, eh. Optional expenses are things that you might want but don’t need. This could include expensive hair dying/cuts, tattoos, new technology you don’t need, and/or general clutter items. (AKA Lili stop buying gatchapon) Lastly, the stupid tax is fairly easy to avoid. This term is something I picked up from the show “Divorce Court” and its basic premise is that by doing stupid things you end up paying more and it’s basically a tax on stupidity. Don’t pay your bills and get late fees? Stupid tax. Be careless with your phone/computer and need to get it fixed or replaced? Stupid tax. Buy plane tickets super late for a planned trip? Stupid tax, Do risky things that might get you injured? Stupid tax. You get the point, there are some things that you end up paying for that stem from being stupid. Don’t be stupid.

These are mine. Tell me if there’s anything you think I forgot, but most likely it’s just something I never think about. These are only ways to save money, not earn it. That’s a different topic in general that I can get to at another point.

If you want to determine which things you can change, you have to make sure you balance three things: time, quality, and money. You have a limited amount to spend every day on all things. Something fast and good won’t be cheap. Something good and cheap won’t be fast. Something fast and cheap won’t be good. Taxis are more expensive than walking, cooking meals will take more time than getting delivery, and being lazy won’t get you good schoolwork.

#cheap #cheap ho #guide #save money #Budget #college budget #Budgeting #international student #Yonsei University #study abroad #study abroad korea #korea #korean #kpop #travel #seoul