#Business Breakthrough Challenge

[harmoniouslymindful]

Last Chance To Join The Business Breakthrough Challenge Today

A quick heads up, in case you haven’t heard about the Business Breakthrough Challenge taking place this week …Business coach, John Assaraf, is getting a flood of emails, DM’s and calls from people asking for another day to join his LIVE Business Breakthrough Challenge. Because so many of you asked, he’s decided to give you 1 extra day to join.  Hurry! Go here now before time runs out… Join the…

[techtoio]

The Fascinating Science Behind Quantum Computing: Explained

Introduction

Welcome to TechtoIO! Today, we embark on a journey to one of the most thrilling frontiers in technology: quantum computing. This radical area promises a transformation of information processing, problem resolution, and understanding of the universe. How do quantum computers work, and what is quantum computing? Let’s break down the science behind this cutting-edge technology in simple, easy-to-understand terms. Read to continue

[plutonianeris]

Pluto + rebirth

Pluto, often called the planet of transformation, is all about change, power, death, and rebirth. When it shows up in different areas of your birth chart (or during a transit), it’s like a cosmic signal that something in your life is about to go through a deep, intense shift.

Pluto in the 1st house

When Pluto's in your 1st house, you might feel like you’re going through a personal makeover—inside and out. It’s all about reinventing yourself and shedding old layers of identity to step into a more powerful version of who you really are. Imagine someone who’s always struggled with self-confidence suddenly gaining a sense of inner strength. Maybe they start working out, change their appearance, or embrace a new attitude that completely shifts how the world sees them.

Pluto in the 2nd house

Pluto in the 2nd house can shake up your finances and challenge what you consider important. This could mean a financial crisis that forces you to rethink how you make and save money—or even a total shift in your sense of self-worth. Think of someone who loses their job unexpectedly. At first, it’s tough, but it leads them to pursue a passion project or start their own business, completely changing their relationship with money and success.

Pluto in the 3rd house

Pluto in the 3rd house works on your mindset. It can bring up old fears or communication patterns that no longer serve you, forcing you to express yourself more authentically and powerfully.Maybe you’ve always held back in conversations, avoiding conflict. But with Pluto’s influence, you could have a breakthrough, learning to speak your truth in a way that’s both honest and empowering.

Pluto in the fourth house

In the 4th house, Pluto focuses on home, family, and deep emotional roots. You might experience changes in your living situation or power dynamics within your family. These changes, though intense, can lead to greater emotional resilience.Someone might move out of a childhood home, or a family rift could heal after years of tension. This marks the beginning of a new chapter where the family is stronger, even if it had to go through some tough moments.

Pluto in the fifth house

Pluto’s influence here pushes you to explore creativity or romantic relationships in a deeper, more intense way. It’s about shedding superficial connections or creative blocks and tapping into something more raw and authentic. Picture someone ending a toxic relationship that wasn’t allowing them to fully be themselves. Once free, they dive into their passions—maybe they start painting or writing again—and they find their creativity is reborn.

Pluto in the 6th house

Pluto in the 6th house brings a shift in your daily routines, work habits, and even health. You could face a health scare or burnout that forces you to overhaul how you take care of yourself. Someone who’s been overworking might be forced to slow down after a health crisis. This leads them to adopt a healthier work-life balance and discover a new way of living that feels more sustainable and rewarding.

Pluto in the 7th house

When Pluto is in the 7th house, relationships take center stage. You might go through a breakup or power struggles, but ultimately, it leads to deeper, more meaningful connections. A person may find themselves in a rollercoaster of a relationship, full of ups and downs. After working through some tough emotional challenges, they either transform the relationship into something stronger—or let it go and find someone more aligned with who they are now.

Pluto in the 8th house

Pluto in the 8th house takes transformation to its core—focusing on shared resources, deep psychological healing, and life-changing events. This is where you might face fears, experience loss, or gain through inheritance or investments. Someone might go through a life-altering event, like the passing of a loved one, that profoundly shifts their understanding of life, death, and what truly matters. This experience could push them toward deep healing or spiritual growth.

Pluto in the 9th house

Pluto in the 9th house challenges your belief systems and perspectives. You may go through a spiritual awakening or question long-held views, leading to a completely different outlook on life. Think of someone who travels abroad for the first time and comes back with a totally new perspective on life. They might start questioning their old beliefs and embrace a more expansive, open-minded approach to the world.

Pluto in the 10th house

Pluto in the 10th house means big changes in your career or public reputation. You could experience a significant career upheaval, but it leads to a new sense of purpose and a stronger professional identity. Someone might face a professional crisis, like losing their job or going through a public scandal. While it feels devastating at first, they eventually reinvent themselves and emerge with a career that’s more aligned with their true calling.

Pluto in the 11th house

Pluto here transforms your social life and group involvement. You might let go of old friends or find yourself drawn to new causes that bring more meaning to your life. A person might leave a shallow social circle and instead start connecting with people who share their deeper passions, such as environmental activism. This transformation helps them feel more fulfilled and aligned with their ideals.

Pluto in the 12th house

Pluto in the 12th house brings hidden fears, traumas, and spiritual matters to the surface. It’s a time for healing and letting go of old patterns that no longer serve you, allowing for a profound spiritual rebirth. Someone might start therapy or dive into meditation practices that help them uncover and heal past wounds. This process could lead to a spiritual awakening, where they feel more connected to themselves and the universe at a deeper level.

[kalki-tarot]

Where / How will you meet your FS?

Pick only one picture, and take a deep breathe.

please pick only one picture that speaks the most to you. This reading is purely for entertainment purposes and kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions you make on behalf of this reading.

PILE 01.

At an orphanage

While traveling

School/College reunion

Amusement park

Some place or thing which involves kids

Through family or mutual friends

In a cafe

Childhood friends

Shared past lives together

PILE 02.

Some of you have already met them

At a family event or celebration

Someone's engagement or marriage

Through telepathic means is also I'm getting

Concerts or a celebrity's event

Through work or school or university

Online, text messages, matrimonial sites

Soulmates / Twinflames

PILE 03.

After a breakthrough

After a karmic cycle ends

Competition

Party or disco

Business trips

In a challenging situation

Mountains and rivers

Through angels and spirit guides (they will guide u to them and vice versa)

PILE 04.

When you'll feel like life is going out of your hands

In a place where you have no control or stability

After a period of mourning and transformation

Through transfers

Through new job opportunities

After a period of being sad and anxious

Online / Emails

They are coming in ur life very fastly

PILE 05.

They can be your boss or someone who is at a higher position in your work place

Through an elder male from your family

In a party or group of friends

While socializing with friends

At a rainy day with thunderstorms or in the rainy season

Through professional means

At your work place

PILE O6.

At your home

Through you mother or an elder female

While at an argument

At someone's funeral or birth

Near water or lake

At a competition

At your work

[sxswriter]

Not Safe for Work

Summary: Maybe agreeing to work on a project with Mr. Sylus, CEO of a billionaire company, wasn't the greatest idea you had

WC: 2.4k

CW: Mature content (mdni), fingering, smut

As a fresh graduate, securing a position with Onychinus Corporation’s strategy and business development department was almost a dream come true. Over your first two years with the company, you poured your heart into your work, and your dedication paid off as you consistently delivered impressive results. You quickly rose to become one of the top performers in your department.��

So, when the CEO, Mr. Sylus, sought someone from your department to collaborate on a pivotal project for a stakeholders’ meeting, it was no surprise to anyone that your supervisor personally recommended you. This was the breakthrough you had been waiting for—a chance to prove you were ready for a bigger role.

However, your enthusiasm soon began to fade as you encountered the harsh reality of working one-on-one with Mr. Sylus. The infamous rumors about his ruthless reputation proved all too accurate. In the first few weeks, you found yourself increasingly frustrated as he dismissed every idea you proposed without hesitation, dragging you back to square one repeatedly. 

Working closely with him, you slowly began to understand the rationale behind his madness. To ensure his company remained a leader in the industry, every decision needed to be calculated and precise–there was no room for mistakes. Although the progress was slow, you quickly learned everything he taught and were able to finally gain his acknowledgment.

As the months passed, another challenge emerged: your growing attraction to him. He was undeniably attractive, and the constant proximity in his office made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. You still cursed yourself for wearing new heels that one day, which led to a slight stumble and a coffee spill all over his expensive shirt. When you instinctively reached to wipe the stain, you felt his muscles tense as he grasped your wrist, his voice smooth as he reassured you not to worry. But when he turned his back to change into a spare shirt, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by the way his back muscles flexed. The image would linger in your mind throughout the day.

Or that one time he had asked you to retrieve something from his bookshelf. Even with your heels, you struggled to reach it, your fingertips barely grazing the item. Just then, you felt his warm presence behind you, his body pressing against your back as he effortlessly grabbed the item you were straining for. You turned your head slightly, catching his smirk as he leaned in closer. With a low, teasing whisper, he said, “Whenever you find yourself struggling to reach anything, just call me. I’d be happy to help.” The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine that lingered long after he stepped away

Perhaps the most distracting incident came on the day you quickly grabbed a muffin for breakfast at the first-floor bakery. Waking up late left you with only five minutes to meet him outside the conference room for an important meeting. As he asked you to wait before entering, the atmosphere changed as he stood right in front of you. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips as he gently wiped away the crumbs. “You had something on your lips,” he said, his gaze lingering on your mouth. The warmth of his touch sent a rush of heat through you, and when he held the door open for you, your mind was still reeling. Inside the conference room, you struggled to focus on the meeting as thoughts of that brief, intimate moment consumed you.

You also began to see a different side of Mr. Sylus. Beneath the stern facade of the ruthless CEO, he was surprisingly human. He would occasionally play melodic tunes on the record player in his office, which meant enduring his comically off-key humming. One day, you playfully teased him about how horrible he sounded, and he shot back with a critique of your taste in music, making you laugh. He opened up about mentoring two young men named Luke and Kieran, recognizing their potential and taking them under his wing. He shared his calendar with you, encouraging you to drop by his office whenever he had free time, and gave you his number for any needs that might arise.

As time passed, you couldn’t ignore the feelings developing for him. You tried to rationalize it, convincing yourself it was simply a result of working closely together. But deep down, you knew it was because you saw him for who he truly was, not just the CEO but a passionate, driven man with a vulnerable side.

And you knew it was wrong. You had agreed to take on this project for the opportunity, but now you found yourself distracted. A part of you understood the potential consequences of continuing down this path. After all, he was the CEO—there were more important things on his mind.

That morning, you sat at your desk in the strategy and business department, tapping your nails against the surface as you pondered the best way to distance yourself from him and bow out of the project. After a moment of hesitation, you slowly typed up your email:

Dear Mr. Sylus,

I hope this email finds you well. I want to express my gratitude for  the opportunity to work under your leadership for the past few months. Learning from you has truly been an enlightening experience. However, due to personal reasons, I would like to be removed from this project. Although I am saddened to come to this decision, I am confident that many talented individuals within the strategy and business department can pick up where I left off and deliver promising results. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Y/N

With a sigh, you hit send, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You knew this was the right choice for your sanity before you fell in too deep. As you stared at the screen, anxiety churned in your stomach, unsure of how he would respond.

An hour later, you saw his reply: 

Stop by my office at 12 PM.

Fuck, well that backfired. 

Nervously, you entered his office at the designated time, your heart pounding as you approached him. He leaned against his desk, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with a black pen. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if you were his prey, walking into a trap.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

His gaze was heavy, almost piercing. “You’re avoiding me,” he said, getting straight to the point. “Why?”

“I’m no—“

“Don’t lie to me.” He interrupted, his eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of frustration evident.

What was his deal? you thought, a mix of annoyance and confusion bubbling within you. You straightened your posture, defiance rising. “Mr. Sylus, I am not avoiding you. I just have too much on my plate and can’t balance this project on top of my other responsibilities.”

In a swift movement, Sylus grabbed your wrist, and lifted you, positioning you atop his desk, his legs between yours, you could feel the heat radiating from him. His hands were planted firmly on the desk, one on either side of you, effectively caging you in. As he leaned in slightly forward, the proximity made your heart race, a mixture of frustration and undeniable attraction coursing through you. “I said don’t lie to me.”

You glared at him, pushing against his solid frame, but he didn’t budge. “Sylus, what the hell?!”

Frustration bubbled within you, and you finally relented. “Fine! I…” You started, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ve developed feelings that shouldn’t exist. As a result, working with you now… feels inappropriate and is starting to affect my work.” The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw, as you fought to keep your voice steady, feeling both vulnerable and exposed.

You pushed against him again, desperate for some distance from him. “Anyway, If you have a problem with me no longer wanting to be around you, you could easily find someone to replace me! I’m pretty sure there’s plenty of employees who would jump at the offer.” Your frustration was mounting, “Now, can you please move?”

Sylus gently cupped your chin, drawing your gaze to his intense eyes. “You seem to misunderstand, so let me clarify: I have no intention of replacing you. Do you know why?” He leaned in closer, the space between your lips almost nonexistent. “Because I adore you.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, and you stammered, “W-what?”

“I’ve been aware of how inappropriate it would be to voice those feelings, so I stayed silent,” he continued, his tone steady and serious. “I didn’t want to put you in a compromising position or make you feel pressured to reciprocate because of our roles. I wanted you to come to your feelings for me in your own time.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, shifting everything between you.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It took your breath away to know that he felt the same way you did. A whirlwind of emotions surged through you—relief, joy, and a lingering frustration. The vulnerability of the moment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, making you feel both exposed and cherished. Your heart swelled, the weight of uncertainty lifting as you realized you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Before Sylus could continue talking, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, electrifying kiss. He responded instantly, a fire igniting between you, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as much, if not more, than you. He pressed you down until your back was flat against his desk. Kicking your heels off, you wrapped your legs around him, drawing him even closer, determined to eliminate any space that remained between you both. 

Leaving your lips, he trailed kisses down your neck, and you couldn’t help the soft, sweet sounds that fell from your lips. The warmth of his touch sent shivers coursing through your body, and the ache inside you deepened. You felt a heat rising within you, the desire for him growing stronger, turning into a palpable longing that was impossible to ignore. He carefully lifted your blouse over your head and removed your bra, his intense gaze fixed on you, a fire burning in his eyes. As you lay exposed, you welcomed the coolness of his desk against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat igniting between you. 

Your nipples hardened as if yearning for his attention—and who was he to deny them? He took one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, while his fingers skillfully teased and tugged at the other. Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, a silent testament to the effect he had on you. You lifted your hip, signaling the area where you craved him the most. 

Lifting himself, he gently pulled your pencil skirt off and underwear, leaving you fully exposed. With one hand planted on the table, the other began teasingly rubbing against your core. He watched as you whimpered in delight, the sounds spilling from your lips were music to his ears. Gently, he inserted one finger into your entrance. He smirked in satisfaction feeling how wet you were. “You’re so eager for me, kitten,” he said while inserting another finger, establishing a slow and steady pace inside you.

He lowered his face to your lips again, sharing a slow kiss while his fingers quickened their speed. “Such a good girl.” He whispered into your ear. Maintaining the steady rhythm he set, you sensed your climax quickly approaching. 

Just as you felt yourself about to unravel, a voice you recognized as the receptionist crackled through the speaker: “Mr. Sylus, the consultant company you asked for is on line 1.”

No! you thought desperately. 

You were so close.

“Make sure to stay quiet; we wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea,” he said. You were confused by what he meant by that.

It wasn’t until he accepted the call while still working fingers inside you that the realization hit you—he had no intention of stopping. Meeting his gaze, you saw him lift his unoccupied hand and press a finger to his lips, urging you to be quiet

As Sylus engaged in the call, his eyes remained fixed on you. You could see the playful glimmer in his gaze as he entered a third finger, making it hard to contain yourself. You slapped your hand against your lips to stay silent.

“I trust that this is something you can handle,” he said in response to something the man on the line mentioned, but the way he looked at you made it clear the message was for you.

“Thanks for your time Mr. Sylus, I’ll follow up with any updates next week.” The voice on the speaker faded, followed by the sharp click that marked the end of the cell. 

“Sy—ahh—,” you whined, your thoughts a jumbled mess, unable to form a coherent sentence as pleasure coursed through you. All you could focus on was the sweet finish ahead and the man who would take you there. Desperate for some stability, you pulled Sylus closer, seeking his warmth as a way to ground yourself. His breath was warm against your skin, making it harder to think straight, but you needed him there, anchoring you in the moment.

When you finally came undone, your eyes rolled back, engulfed by the overwhelming rush that consumed you. You hadn’t expected for it to feel this intense, leaving you breathless.

As you struggled to catch your breath, you watched as Sylus finally removed his fingers, your face was practically burning as you watched him lick the fingers which brought you to an indescribable high. 

You noticed him press a button on the phone at his desk. 

“Yes, boss?” his receptionist answered.

With a slow, purposeful motion, he unbuckled his belt, his eyes locked onto you with an intense desire. “Cancel the rest of my meetings for today. I have more urgent matters to attend to.”

You gulped as you realized, the fingers he had in you not too long ago were just a small taste of what he had in store for you.

[icyg4l]

August 2024 Predictions

hello beautiful people! i am back from my break. did u miss me?? 😁😁 lol. (i am not going to be opening my personal readings yet though. maybe later or earlier next month). i want to start off by thanking you all for the birthday wishes. it is an honor to make it to the age of twenty. also, i have been very busy with trying to get everything together for my new semester of school. i am finally relocating so it’s gonna be hectic for the next month or so! i will make personal readings available as soon as possible. but i hope you guys enjoy the readings that resonate with you! without further ado, please select your pile!

pile 1-3: (left-to-right)

pile one: don’t be desperate, pile one. allow things to unfold the way they’re supposed to. you’re a bit of a control freak. do you have virgo in your chart? let the mystery be alluring! you may find that not knowing everything is actually a relief. allow yourself to be challenged. i heard “be in the nude”. now’s the time to start being kinder to your body. be more affirming to your body, treat food as it is (not as good or bad), buy clothes that are flattering to it. august will be a time of exploring what the world has to offer. don’t feel guilty for doing so either. august will bring you the best of both worlds, so if you’ve been struggling with maintaining stability in two specific areas of your life, it will come. if you’ve recently broken a bone, expect a fast recovery, especially if you smoke weed. if your family is feuding, expect for them to reconcile their differences. i see that your financial situation will improve as well because of your decision to expand beyond the norm. think big, but don’t be greedy.

cards used: queen of wands, seven of swords, two of wands, five of wands, ten of cups, nine of pentacles, two of pentacles, six of swords

extras: manga. phat girlz (2006). annihilator. gold grillz. mirror work.

pile two: you may find that you are reminiscing about the past this august. however, you should not dwell on it. the past is the past for a reason. the disappointments/setbacks you have faced will not last for longer. have some faith. it feels as though someone has been talking shit about you. let them think what they want to think. you have nothing to prove to this. this person could have gemini placements. you are not the person you once were. this month it is crucial that you do self-concept work. what people can say may really get to you. you could find yourself being ultra-sensitive to jokes and the words of other people. if it makes you feel any better, stand your ground. you are the embodiment of “sticks and stones may break my bones”. this last message is for someone who looks to be an influencer/celebrity. make sure that the way you present yourself is true to you. don’t spend time trying to appeal to others. have some boundaries. don’t let people get too comfortable/allow them to use your status against you. you’re human as well.

cards used: five of cups. queen of wands. eight of cups. knight of cups. queen of swords. king of swords. six of cups.

extras: visa. rue. sacrificial lamb. body parts. moola.

pile three: this month will be exhausting for you, pile three. i’m not going to lie, you may have already had a rough start. for some of you, you could have been in a car accident, but by the end of the month, you will receive a hefty check. some of you could receive a refund check that will help you with all of the bills you’re drowning in. you will receive some unexpected financial assistance. if you are expecting to receive a student loan, you will finally be approved. some of you will finally be eligible for government assistance as well. do not be afraid to accept help from community members. you do not have to do it all alone. i see that you will have a breakthrough before you are finally blessed with the opportunity to receive. this month will test your faith but ultimately, you will receive everything you’ve been asking for. sometimes you just have to wait on it. for those of you on anxiety medication, you will finally feel the effects.

cards used: two of swords. the hanged woman. seven of swords. king of pentacles. the hierophant. ten of swords. ten of pentacles. nine of pentacles. four of swords.

extras: pure harmony. “excellence”. “say your goodbyes”. ain’t nobody got time for that. ohana means family.

[tinydefector]

Perceptor Rut cycle

Warnings: smut, cockwarming, heat/rut cycle, size kink.

Word count 1.9k

Masterlist

Rut cycle fics

Percpetor Masterlist

_________

Perceptor had busied himself with running more energon samples along with blood samples from multiple of the humans in hopes of being able to make a hormone blocker so that the scent of humans wouldn't affect the cybertronians as it had been. "How's the samples coming along for blockers?" The human sitting off to the side asked while another vial of blood was being drawn from them. Perceptor's optics flickered as he processed the question, his CPU momentarily struggling to focus on the task at hand. The scent of pheromones in the air was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his work. Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, the primal instincts of his biology were beginning to assert themselves.

He takes a deep vent as he clears his vocal processor before responding, his voice slightly strained, "The samples are progressing as expected. The blockers should be ready for distribution soon, I'm just currently missing some vital components." Perceptor could feel the heat building within his circuits, a sensation that was both unfamiliar and disorientating. He's slowly with his steps towards the humans, servos shake slightly As he disconnects the butterfly needle. “Please hold pressure on your arm with a cotton ball until it stops, I wouldn't recommend Moving to much for a few minutes”

As he continued with his analysis, Perceptor couldn't help but steal glances at them. Their presence seemed to exacerbate his current state, their proximity stirring something deep within him, but he needed them in the lab so he had help testing the blockers. Their blood was one of the main focus points outside of sweat. As he continued his work, Perceptor couldn't shake the sickly sweet scent that emanated from them. It had his processor spinning and a deep whine leaves him as he shutters his optics and takes a moment to try and steady himself. Though the situation was far from ideal, he couldn't deny the strange sense of gratitude that welled up within his spark for their presence, they were risking a lot for him, and the autobots to help with the project.

After a few minutes they stand up and slowly make their way over towards Perceptor as he test the next blood samples with some other mixes in hopes that it would be the breakthrough with a strong mix. The first few ones he had made and tested had slowly been fading and he needed a way to make the effects last longer than an hour at a time.

Their eyes linger on the different vials that Perceptor had accumulated. "I never realised how pretty Energon is and the difference mixes with other elements" they hum while watching the different vials react to the different chemical compounds, metals and also their blood. "What's in this vial?" They ask while pointing at the main one Perceptor had been working on. Perceptor's systems buzzed with heightened awareness as they approached, their presence sending a jolt of electricity through his circuits. He tried to maintain his focus on the task at hand, but the intoxicating scent that emanated from them was proving to be a distracting challenge.

"This vial contains a mixture of cobalt, titanium energon compounds and supplements. I'm trying to find the best mixture to inhibit the pheromone reaction associated with the cybertorian mating cycle," Perceptor explained, his voice steady despite the tremors starting to rack his frame. “I've tested other compounds but this is the mixture which seems to be working the most effectively thus far, but I'm theorising a way to ensure it lasts longer or atleast a full cycle.

his vocal processor momentarily faltered under the weight of his internal turmoil. "Please... forgive my... momentary lapse in focus," Perceptor managed to say, his voice strained with effort. "The... scent... it's... quite potent." He forced himself to meet the human's gaze servo moving towards another vial of the much weaker mixture. He takes a mouthful of it before trying to focus back in on his lab results over the next batch.

They give him a worried smile knowing that there wasn't much either of them could do due to the situation. He needed them there for blood testing. They slowly rummage through their pockets pulling out a small container of nicotine pouches. "Doubt this will help but try it" they state while holding two of the pouches out for Perceptor to take. "You put them in your mouth" Preceptor's systems buzzed with gratitude. "Thank you," Perceptor replied, his voice tinged with a rare note of appreciation. He accepted the pouches with a careful nod, his fingers deftly taking hold of the tiny items before placing them in his intake.

As he allowed the nicotine pouches to take effect, Perceptor felt a sense of calm wash over him, the mixture of both the text blocker and Nicotine helped to at least calm his systems enough to get the stronger mix finished. A fleeting respite from the overwhelming desires that had been clouding his thoughts was a relief. His servos sake less as he works quickly with the next blood samples trying the main mix with some others. It's nearly two hours later before the effect begins wearing off again. As he worked diligently on the blood tests, his servos started to get shaky again. Preceptor's sensors heightened, the need to claim the human helping him slowly leaks its way back into his processor. “Time” he calls out as his assistant and test subject takes the time down. “Doing better than the last lot, you've gained an extra 36 minutes and 19 seconds” they reply.

Perceptor felt the familiar ache in his spark. And yet, as his sensors clamoured for him to take them as his mate, a part of Perceptor acknowledged the undeniable truth, he wasn't going to be able to get this batch finished in time. His own scenes were working overtime and his restraint was too.

"Percy?" They call out watching him with slight worry. "How can I help?" They finally ask and it makes a whine leave his vocalizer. He needed them desperately, He fought to maintain his composure, his plating shuddering with the overwhelming need that threatened to consume him. The pooling of lubricant in his interface array had him desperate for some sort of release. With a voice strained with desire, Perceptor managed to respond, "I... I don't know if... if you can help. The rut cycle... it's... it's consuming me."

"Sit down, open up, I'm gonna try and help you " they call out while moving closer to him. The moment their hands touch his plating it has him letting out a sharp vent, optics flickering as a keen leaves his vocalizer. Perceptor obediently sat down, his frame trembling. As he opened his interface panel, he felt a surge of heat radiate through him, as his spike pressurised, the anticipation of what was to come sending a thrill down his spinal strut.

his optics locked with theirs as they move over and climb into his lap, his back arches at the feeling of small hands against his spike a loud moan leaves him. "Is it gonna help you focus if I sit on your spike while you try and work?" They ask, but the sweet scent of their hormones, pheromones and arousal has his spike already weeping transfluid.

With a voice strained with need, Perceptor managed to respond, "I... I don't know if... if it will help me focus, but..." His words trailed off as moans again.

"Easy Percy, let me help you" they coo while discarding their clothing. They move back towards him grabbing his spike, They slowly tease it between their thighs before slowly sinking down onto it with a hiss. Their back presses to his chassis as a full body shutter racks his form. The sensation of their warmth enveloping him, has a choked noise of need leaves him.

"I'm going to sit here and you're going to work on the blockers, if it gets too much just let me know" they call to him as one of his servos moves to grip their hips, slowly grinds his spike into them. A whimpered moan leaves him as he slumps his helm to rest against their shoulder "Understood," Perceptor responded. His servo gripped their hips, guiding their movements as he slowly ground his spike into them slightly harder. His other servo busies itself with added other metals and powders into other vials.

And as he worked on the new formula, his spike grinding into the human with restraint, Little moans and gasps leave their lips with each grind from Perceptor, one of their hands grips the lens scope as he pulls them back down on his spike. Preceptor's other servo digs into the bench leaving a dent in the metal as he slowly bounces them atop his spike, the gasp, Moan and clenching hard around his spike.

"The missing elements..." Perceptor managed to mumble to himself, his voice strained as he pressed his lips to their shoulder. They throw their head back giving him more skin to lick and nip at, a pathetic whimper leaves them as he catches their lips in a hungry kiss. Perceptor's systems overloaded with a surge of primal desire His frame quivered with a raw, animalistic need as he deepened the kiss, With a low growl rumbling in his vocalizer, his grip tightened on their hip, pulling them closer to him as he allowed his instincts to guide him. The scent of their arousal, the taste of their lips, fueled the fire burning within him.

"Oh God!, Perceptor!" They cry out as he snaps his hips into them, the slick sound of his frame slamming into them has him purring in delight as they clench around him like a vice. Perceptor's vocalizer emitted a low, guttural growl at the cry of his name, he snapped his hips with rough urgency, each movement punctuated by the slick, intoxicating sound of his frame slamming into them. "So good for me," Perceptor's voice rumbled with desire. "Taking me so well." he couldn't help but purr in delight at the sensation of their tightness.

With each powerful thrust, he sought to imprint himself upon them, to claim them as his, Only his. They cry out loudly as he bites down on their shoulder, their orgasm racking thier body and they clench around Perceptor, sobbed moans leave them as he hits his own release. A guttural groan rumbling in his vocalizer, Perceptor reached the peak of his own pleasure, A loud snarl leaves him as he perks his hips into them dragging them back down as he lets out a hot vented air against their body.

They two stay locked against each other as they pant. Bright pink transfluid drips from them, down into Preceptor's lap into the chair they are both sat on. They let out a shaky breath before they speak. "I hope that helped '' they call out while rolling their head back to smile up at Perceptor. His systems hummed with contentment as they remained entwined in the aftermath of their passionate union. Perceptor's own optics softened at the sight of their smile. "It did," Perceptor responded, his voice a mix of gratitude and sincerity. When they try to pull away Perceptor grips their hips holding them still against his spike not ready to let go of them yet. “your going to say there until I've finished working” he mumbles to them as he presses a kiss to their shoulder

_____________

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[theambitiouswoman]

How To Spot Opportunities

Opportunities are all around us, waiting to be recognized and seized. In conversation, in something you see, even in your own thoughts. Learning how to spot opportunities can lead you to growth and success. People often tend to overlook them, believing that they only come to certain people. The truth is that opportunities are available to everyone. We just need to change our perspective and learn how to identify them.

The Mindset:

Openness to Possibilities: Adopt a mindset that looks for possibilities in any situation. Instead of focusing solely on obstacles, view every challenge as an opportunity to innovate and grow. This shift in perspective opens the door to potential breakthroughs.

Adaptability: Being flexible and adaptable is key to spotting opportunities. Embrace change and be willing to venture outside your comfort zone. Adaptability helps you see potential where others might only see disruptions.

Positive Attitude: A positive attitude can work wonders in identifying opportunities. When you maintain optimism, you're more likely to recognize the silver lining in challenging circumstances, leading to the discovery of new pathways.

Always Learning: Embrace a curious mindset. Continuing to learn exposes you to new ideas and helps you stay ahead in a rapidly changing world, enabling you to recognize emerging opportunities before others do.

Examples of Spotting Opportunities:

The Airbnb Story: In 2008, two struggling entrepreneurs, Brian Chesky and Joe Gebbia, saw a unique opportunity in the midst of a sold-out conference in their city. With hotels fully booked, they decided to rent out air mattresses in their living room, turning their apartment into an "air bed and breakfast." This marked the inception of Airbnb, which has since become a multi-billion dollar global enterprise, disrupting the hospitality industry.

From Hobby to Empire: Many successful businesses have started as hobbies. For example, Dov Charney, the founder of American Apparel, began making simple t-shirts for himself. When people showed interest in his designs, he realized the opportunity to create a clothing brand that offered stylish basics, catapulting his hobby into a thriving fashion empire.

Turning Failure into Success: Walt Disney's first animation studio went bankrupt. While many would have given up, Disney saw an opportunity to learn from his mistakes and create a new, revolutionary entertainment venture. The result? The birth of Mickey Mouse and the eventual establishment of the global Disney empire.

Networking: Opportunities often lie within our social circles. A chance encounter at a networking event led to the founding of YouTube when Steve Chen, Chad Hurley, and Jawed Karim connected with early PayPal employees who provided funding for their video-sharing platform.

You can train yourself to spot opportunities in the most unexpected places. The examples shared above show that success often comes from recognizing potential in everyday situations.

How to train your mind to spot opportunities:

1. Actively Listen: Listen to what the other person is saying. Avoid interrupting or preoccupying your mind with what you will say next. Paying full attention allows you to pick up on cues, insights, and potential areas of mutual interest.

2. Identify Pain Points: While you are listening, look for challenges or frustrations the other person may mention.These pain points could represent opportunities for you to provide a solution or offer assistance.

3. Explore people's Interests: Discover the other person's passions and interests. You might find common ground, or their interests might spark ideas for potential collaborations or projects.

4. Ask Questions: Ask open-ended questions that encourage the other person to share more about themselves and their goals. Ask them about their aspirations and how they plan to achieve them. Seeing how people arrive from one point to another will better help you exercise your minds and use problem solving strategies as a way of looking at things moving forward.

5. Be Curious: Approach conversations with a curious and open mindset. Be receptive to new ideas and different perspectives.

6. Networking: Use conversations as an opportunity to network and build relationships. Meaningful connections often lead to new opportunities down the road, whether it's a job opportunity, collabs, or a chance to participate in new projects.

7. Body Language: Pay attention to non-verbal cues and body language. Sometimes, opportunities can be inferred from the other person's gestures, expressions, or tone of voice.

8. Problem-Solving and Offering Help: If the conversation veers towards a problem the other person is facing, think about how you might be able to help.

9. Be Proactive: Don't be afraid to share your own aspirations and ideas during the conversation. Sometimes, expressing your interests and goals can lead you to opportunities when the other person sees potential in working with you in some capacity.

10. Following-Up and Staying Connected: After a productive conversation, make an effort to follow up and stay connected. This can potentially lead to more opportunities as you continue to build a better relationship with the other person.

[ssahopelessly]

Home for Christmas

Synopsis: Spencer gets called away on a case days before Christmas and while he should be working, his only thoughts are those of returning home to be with his wife and daughter.

Prompt: “After an awful case, the team comes back on Christmas Eve to find that Penelope has gathered their loved ones and quickly decorated the BAU as a surprise.” From the Office Party challenge {but I left out the party and decorating of the BAU office}

Warnings: Married Spencer x WifeReader, Fem!Reader, daughter named Autumn, brief discussions of case [let me know any I missed]

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterist

It was his worst nightmare come true. Well, maybe not his worst, that was one he hoped would stay tucked into the recesses of his mind for all of time. But this definitely made the list, without a doubt. Several years ago, it would’ve been an inconceivable one, but now, knowing what was waiting for him at home, this was the absolute worst.

“Are you going to be home for Christmas?” Her voice rang through the line as clear as a silver bell.

“I don’t know. I hope so. But…” Spencer allowed himself to fall back onto the bed he had been sitting on, trying to imagine he was home for this holiday. In his mind, he could see it as clear as he did when he left their home two days ago, the Christmas tree they had spent an afternoon decorating, the garland lining the stairwell that had been entwined with warm white Christmas lights, how the whole house smelled just like a Christmas tree farm and some cinnamon.

Spencer hoped that if the fates had any sway and any favors they could pull for him, maybe this would be the one. “But?” She had caught onto the sentence he didn’t finish, his mind lost in remembering.

“Well we haven't had any victims in the last three days and what we have isn’t conclusive enough or worse, it’s just not enough.”

“Oh.” He was staring at the hotel ceiling above him, getting visually lost in the scalloped pattern of what was above that he missed the defeated look on her digital face.

“And I don't want to wish for another victim, not a few days out from Christmas, but if we don’t get enough evidence we’ll have to close the case and go home.”

“Would you be here for Christmas?” The voice she used was relatively small, knowing at its core, it was a selfish desire: to have Spencer home for Christmas when people in another town needed him to stop the unsub. But there were only so many childhood Christmases for their daughter, and there was nothing more important in their lives than her.

“I mean maybe, but we would just have to come back out when the next victim shows up and I don’t want to leave if he’s still out there.”

“Is it possible he’s tied up in holiday festivities?” On her end of the call, she was moving about the kitchen, preparing a late night cup of hot cocoa as she listened to him, knowing she was sharing his attention with the details of the case.

“I mean maybe but…” His voice trailed off again as he slowly sat up, his memory deep diving into the facts of the evidence board and how that situation had never been entertained, how they had never considered with the holidays their unsub might be busy with festivities.

“Spencer?” She called to him, making sure he was still there or that the call hadn’t dropped.

“What if he’s tied up in holiday events and- I gotta go.” Pushing himself off the hotel bed, he ran towards his satchel, forgetting his phone on the sheets. With a view of the ceiling, she called for him one more time.

“Spencer?”

“Yes?” Crossing back over, he looked down to his phone so she could see him one more time for the evening, a smile forming on her lips as she knew they might’ve just had the breakthrough he needed. Whether he would get home in time for the holidays was one thing, whether he would save a town from future torment was another matter entirely, something she knew he was perfectly capable of.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Her words had given him the hope he needed, that electric spark of an idea that could carry him through the next few hours of re-evaluating the case enough to feel like he might actually be able to go home. “I’ll be home for Christmas. Promise.” Even through the phone screen, he could see the tears that had built along the bottom of her eyes, the smile she tried to show just for him, and he hoped against everything, that her beautiful and brilliant mind had given him the breakthrough the case so desperately needed.

-

“What?” Penelope yawned over the speakerphone, stumbling into her office that morning with Spencer five cups of coffee deep into his complete reanalysis of a case everyone was nearly ready to close, unsub known or not.

“We need to look at individuals who would be tied up with holiday festivities right now. Craftsman working on the local parade or theatre performances, someone who would have access to the tools and skillset but have virtually zero free time right now due to holiday obligations.”

“Spencer, it is six in the morning there, did you sleep? At all?”

“I got four hours before midnight and I can sleep on the jet.” He rattled off in a half breath as he added new notes to the map on the evidence board. “Okay, how many of the churches are hosting or have already hosted Christmas events this month through New Years?”

“Uhm…” he waited for her numbers, hearing the incessant typing of her keyboard, “Jesus, you’re definitely in the south. Within the city limits, 43.”

“Out of city limits?”

“52.” His attention focused in on the pins where the latest victims had been found compared to where the churches and local theaters were. “Spencer?”

“What about-”

They carried on like that for another hour until finally, they had narrowed it down to one guy. Their unsub had split time between three churches and a local theater, one victim tied to each community and within a few hours, they had their warrant and had arrested him before he could even wake himself up that morning. He was pulled into questioning which unfortunately did take all day, but by the time paperwork was finalized and evidence collected by evening the next day, they were on their way home to spend Christmas Eve night with their families.

The jet ride back that night was nothing remarkable, everyone choosing to sleep or keep to themselves this trip. And he was right. Spencer Reid did sleep on the jet the whole way back to Quantico. But the warmth he found in his sleep on the jet would soon vanish as the cool Virginia air greeted him with a vengeance that night, just as the team shuffled from the jet to the SUVs. The ride back to the office was quiet, but no one could continue their naps from the jet. All anyone could do was think about the families waiting for them back home, families waiting to start the holiday festivities.

“Look.” JJ had whispered to Reid at one point in the drive, her hand extending her phone to him in the backseat from her spot in the passenger seat. “Will and I agreed the boys should open one present tonight.” The video, once Spencer held the phone in his hands, was of Henry helping baby Michael open a box that sat on the floor between the two. He didn’t quite catch the content of the present with the shaky filming and glitching pixels, but he smiled over his godsons nonetheless.

“Wow.” Spencer let himself marvel aloud as he passed the phone back to JJ, trying to fight the yawn that was lingering at the back of his mouth. “Are they waiting up for you?”

“Henry is but Michael fell asleep early tonight. Will said they’d watch Elf and the Grinch until I get home though.”

“That’s not going to delay Santa Clause?” The look in his eye was one of knowing, a near twinkle of mischief.

“As long as milk and cookies are out, Santa will be fine.” Spencer could see the fond smile on JJ’s face in the light from her phone screen before she put it away in her pocket, looking back to him then. “What about your house? Do you think they’ll be awake when you get home?” Spencer tried not to think too hard on the possibility. He knew the schedules, he knew the odds, but part of him hoped he would get what was left of Christmas Eve with them, even if it just meant a five minute bed time story with Autumn and then one mistletoe kiss with his wife before they both passed out for the night.

“I hope they’re awake. But it’s late anyway so they’re probably asleep.” He felt how the possible reality affected him, but he hoped against everything he would get to see them just once before Christmas morning.

-

Normally when they got back to the office building, they were dismissed until the next business day. And he thought Hotch would especially excuse them as they both had kids at home. But something wasn’t right. As they piled out of the vehicles, Hotch required everyone to return to the 6th floor. He wouldn’t say why, and if anyone had a chance to ask, all they were told was “some paperwork cant wait for the next day.”

Spencer was the first one off the elevator, noticing how the time clock over the bullpen read the time to him, almost mocking him. 10:43. He did take a moment to glare at the ticking thing, setting his satchel down into his computer chair as he rubbed at his eyes. They opened to notice one thing was different, one thing that didnt sit right in his mind. He couldve sworn the roundtable room blinds were always open, never closed unless there was an important meeting. And he could've also sworn the picture frame on his desk with their family Christmas photo had been on the right of the computer, not centered along the right side. “Hey, H-“ He couldn’t finish calling to his boss, a commotion behind him taking his attention.

“DADDY!” His head spun trying to find her voice, knowing it anywhere. The one voice that could get him to shed his FBI exterior and leave his heart open. Turning around, he saw the blur of her hair and holiday dress as she ran down the steps to him, his body immediately bending down to scoop her up. “Daddy you’re back!” Her voice cheered into his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, spinning them around for effect. She giggled profusely as he looked back to the roundtable room, now seeing (Y/N) waiting just outside the door, hand over her heart as the scene unfolded. He motioned for her to come join them, quick to notice how she wiped away tears as she rushed to be with them by his desk. Holding tighter to Autumn, he pulled his wife in for a hug, also placing a kiss to her hair before deeply inhaling, renewing his memory of her scent.

“You’re here.” He breathed out in a whisper, squeezing her body to his.

“Penelope called. She wanted you to have your family for the holidays.” Looking once more to the roundtable room, he saw Penelope as she stood along the railing, a gentle wave to Spencer as he held his girls in his arms.

He mouthed a thank you to her before pressing another kiss to (Y/N)’s head, Autumn resting her head against his.

“Daddy?”

“Yes sugar plum?”

“Can we go home now? We’re going to miss Santa.” They both laughed as they hugged her closer in their little family huddle, evermore appreciative that they got one more Christmas as a family.

-

The drive home was exceptionally quiet, Autumn running out of energy before they even left headquarters. Spencer’s hand didn’t let go of (Y/N), thumb rubbing slow circles into the top of her hand as he watched her driving. “I love you.” He mumbled, in such a tired daze from the last few days.

“I know.” Squeezing his hand, she spared a look at him at the red light, no other cars at the intersection. “I love you Spencer.” Just as the light turned green, she noticed how his eyes fluttered to a close, the smile still present on his lips. “Seriously?”

“I’m just so happy.” He hummed, opening his tired eyes to look at her in the passing street light.

“Yeah, and you can’t fall asleep right now because you’re carrying her inside. I can’t carry both of you into the house.”

And he did just that. When she parked their car in the parking lot, Spencer was quick to get out to open (Y/N)’s door and then gently opened the door where Autumn’s seat was, careful not to wake her. While he carried her into the building, (Y/N) made sure to get all the doors in their way, hoping Autumn would stay asleep from the car to her bed. As soon as she hit the matress, her hands did reach up for Spencer as he gently removed himself from her hold, but he quickly reached for the custom teddy bear they had gifted her for when he was away on a case, and she snuggled up to it like it was good enough. Holding (Y/N)’s hand, they both tried to commit to memory the serenity and peace of their daughters room before closing it for the night, quietly walking towards their room now. “What time do you think Santa will come?” She asked as she took off her evening clothes to get into her pajamas, sitting on the bench at the foot of their bed as she waited for Spencer to finish getting ready.

“I was thinking maybe 3:00, maybe 4:00?” She didn’t shy away from letting out a groan as she came up behind him to hug his back, only having successfully put on his pajama pants for the night.

“Maybe 5:00.”

“Do you think she’ll get up and check?” His hands came to rest over hers, holding them close to his stomach.

“No, she didn’t get her afternoon nap so she’s extra tired tonight.” She placed a kiss to the back of his shoulder blade, and he tried his best not to melt into her touch.

“I missed you.”

“Missed you more.” She mumbled out before Spencer turned around in her hold, bringing his arms around her as she settled against his chest.

It was such a simple thing, to be in each other's arms, but it was the one thing they both craved when they were apart. It was the one thing in their relationship that hadn’t changed, the need for physical touch but only from each other. Like many times before, Spencer’s mind seemed to stall with the concept of time, unable to differentiate the seconds from minutes in her arms, resting his cheek against her head. “Let’s go to bed.” One more kiss was pressed to her hair before she let go of him, turning to climb into their bed.

As they made their way under the covers, Spencer moving to lay behind her, his arm slipped over her waist, her back to his chest, and it was then he lost the strength to hold back the lingering thoughts in his mind. “I thought I wouldn’t get tonight with you.”

“You did. It’s our own Christmas miracle.”

“You’re my miracle.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, lips lingering over the surface. “My dream I never have to wake from.”

“You, Dr. Reid, are exceptionally cheesy.” A laugh had burst from her lips but he didn’t even flinch or pull away from her. Her laughter settled back into the quiet of their room, eyelids starting to grow heavy as she felt her heartbeat synchronize to his breathing behind her. “Santa’s at 5:00?” The response he offered was just a small hum of acknowledgment, squeezing her body tighter to his before they both surrendered to the attractive lure, falling into a blissful sleep (if only for a few hours).

~

Tell me what you think here!

[harmoniouslymindful]

The Business Breakthrough Challenge Is A Game Changer For You!

Are you ready to transform and completely revolutionise your business in less than a week? TODAY THE BUSINESS BREAKTHROUGH CHALLENGE KICKS OFF! Make sure that you are registered, prepared and ready to start promptly today, Tuesday 20 August 2024, at 9am PT / 12pm ET / 5pm UK. You will get (way more than) a crash course in cutting-edge Neuro-Marketing and AI strategies that could skyrocket your…

[scribbleseas]

in love & in war, drabble 3: the one where he trips you up…?

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: There’s a minor mention of blood in this drabble—that’s all that comes to mind!

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this is a day late, haha! Last night, my amazing friend @mylostleftfootsock and I were having some crazy story breakthroughs for an upcoming work of mine. They were, in fact, hitting so hard that I had to make the fic outline as we were both losing our minds. That being said, here is a pretty long drabble! I hope you like it—and that it’s a nice palette cleanser from SL. I’m purposely trying to keep this one as light as I can <3

I’m also trying out the taglist for this post! If you would like to be added, just specify for which fics (or if all!) and I will tag you in all my content posts!

Happy Reading!

- Dan

Fun fact: I’m also 2,031 words into Staight Laced 10. I’m on a bit of a roll this week, woohoo!

⇐ PREVIOUS DRABBLE | NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

MASTERLIST

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

The North Pier, Lancashire, 1895

“It is impossible to understate the importance of this promenade, my Lord,” Sebastian explained, matching Ciel’s walking pace to the centimeter as they walked down the cement, having exited the carriage a block away from the beachside pier’s entrance. Sebastian always remained in the same stride as Ciel, a fact that the Earl knew would only delight the demon if he commented on it.

Ciel had no desire to feed the ego of his condescending demon for a butler. Sebastian already gloated endlessly about his upholding of a certain ‘Butler Aesthetic’ that he’d created for himself the first night of his employment.

“You should tell her that her family always hosts the most inspired events, such as this—and you should be sure to show gratitude for her time. Dozens of men not unlike you would do anything for this opportunity,” Sebastian added, emphasizing his words purposefully when he caught on to Ciel’s lack of focus. His butler was correct: a promenade with Lady Y/n at one of TransAtlantica’s seasonal galas for its shareholders, business executives, family ties, and anyone from the business world who mattered. Every year, the shipping company rents out the entirety of the three piers, leaving its multitude of small shops and taverns open for the casual party.

TransAtlantica always picked a weekend that sat towards the end of the spring, the weather a weekend or two away from scorching the Earth. The decision always ensured the best weather—clearer skies, a light breeze, docile sun and seawaves.

Until this year, Ciel would send his regrets, in the same fashion as he would for the company’s fundraisers at the Langham Hotel each season. This event was too crucial to skip, especially after securing himself a promenade. A lot of Britain’s polite society—not just those typical of London’s social hemisphere—would be present. There were no dance cards restricting Ciel’s time with the heiress, and that meant he needed to be especially strategic with the time he managed to have in front of the Y/l/n family.

“I know,” Ciel grumbled. “The color of her gown brings out the…shine in her eyes, or something like that,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes to further his point. Another quick look around them assured him that there were no guests leaving their carriages blocks away from the entrance.

“And that cavalier attitude was what ultimately led her to all except rebuke you, sir,” Sebastian scolded, eyebrows drawing together in a brief show of frustration. “Make her feel as if she is the most important person to you—the deciding factor in which you succeed or you fail. She is just that, after all.” He said purposefully, mahogany eyes interrogating Ciel’s expression. The Earl kept his gaze resolutely forward, watching guests meet the Y/l/n family at the pier’s entrance archway, alongside a handful of the company’s executive board members. “We will be within their natural sightline in about fifteen paces, sir.”

Y/n was dressed sensibly in a light gown, the bodice appearing to resemble a man’s sophisticated white vest, which cut into a feminine design with ruffled short sleeves and lace lining the square neckline. A lot of her clothing tended to include a hint of masculinity—an effort to be taken more seriously in these executive circles, Ciel guessed. Her long blue skirts matched the clear sky, the shade matching the accents in her mother and father’s attire for the afternoon.

The Richmond Earldom always appeared as a matching set, stressing the importance of Ciel’s own apparel during these events. Lord Richmond, Y/n’s father, was searching for an intelligent man who could manage his legacy just as perfectly as his company’s prosperity. All of these simpering suitors could never seem to comprehend that they were vying for more than just a young woman’s hand. They were romancing a company and ultimately, Y/n wasn’t marrying anyone without her father’s approval.

“Remember, my Lord, I can only tip things in your favor so much when it comes to matters of the heart,” the demon lowered his voice, now that they were within earshot of the family, among the last few straggling guests stepping onto the pier.

Ciel fought the strong urge to roll his eyes at his butler’s joke. Tipping things. How cheeky.

Lady Y/l/n, Y/n’s mother, noticed Ciel first. Quickly excusing herself from the conversation she was entertaining, she aimed her publicity smile at him— Y/n always seemed to default to the same empty look without failure.

“Lord Phantomhive! How lovely it is to see you here,” she greeted, accepting Ciel’s hand in a firm handshake. Lady Y/l/n’s short lace gloves matched her daughter’s. “We’re all so thankful that you could make it all this way.”

“The pleasure is completely mine. You’ve picked an auspicious day for this gala once again,” Ciel answered, pleased with Lady Y/l/n’s social intellect. By greeting him so brightly, she had also caught the attention of her husband and daughter, allowing them to respectfully finish their current engagements.

Y/N Y/L/N

You watched Ciel enchant your mother with an entirely faux smile, not unlike the one you kept stretched across your glossed lips. He always managed to look painfully smug, no matter how he tried to soften his expression.

“Lord Phantomhive,” your father greeted, taking the Earl’s hand. He gave it two shakes, never one to waste words. “I understand you will be promenading with my daughter today?”

You flushed, now the object of Lord Phantomhive’s stare. You could also feel the craning necks of others around you, arming themselves with gossip about you.

‘Lady Y/n is promenading for the first time this season, with Lord Phantomhive!’

‘Do you think they will get married?’

You could already see the headlines. There were already peering camera lenses around each corner, the only warning being their blinding flash.

“If she wills it, we shall. A good day, my Lady,” it was your turn to offer your hand to the Earl, but not in a shake. Instead, he took special care in accepting your gloved hand and equally raising your knuckles to his lips and bowing his head to avoid moving your arm too high. His lips hardly grazed your glove.

“To you too.” You dipped into the shallowest version of a curtsy you could manage without being impolite. You hadn’t quite made up your mind about the Lord of Phantomhive, finding him to be contradictory. Sincere enough one moment, crude the other. He reminded you of a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit together to make the complete picture.

Thankfully, he didn’t waste time in releasing your hand.

Lord Phantomhive righted himself, clearly attempting to dissect your tight expression. You suspected that you could see through one another as plainly quite easily, no more transparent than glass. You felt a small lump form in the back of your throat, as you were unsure how to proceed.

Unfortunately, your mother could also read you like an open book. “You’ve greeted most everyone already, Y/n. You and Daphne should join Lord Phantomhive and his butler,” she prompted in a gesture that was both helpful— and embarrassing. Particularly in front of your father.

“Right,” you answered. At the sound of her name, your maid appeared. Daphne was always close enough to be a call away—except for when she wasn’t, you thought about your first run-in with the Lord Phantomhive. Was he truly charmed by you from that encounter? You had been, admittedly, short with him because of how nerve-racking the situation was. “We will walk the pier,” you said, forcing your shoulders to drop. High shoulders suggested tenseness, which then, in turn, implicated anxiety.

You couldn’t help but feel the Lord Phantomhive could sense weakness. That was how breakout corporations like Funtom were made, weren’t they? With leadership at the helm.

“Be safe, please,” your mother gave your hand a meaningful squeeze and joined the rest of the guests with your father. Your stomach sank as if they had left you flailing in the middle of the cool sea beneath the boardwalk.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“Did you hear about the ferris wheel they are constructing here? Apparently, it is set to open this July,” Ciel said, breaking the silence with one of the many anecdotes Sebastian armed him with. While the Earl preferred silence whenever possible, apparently long silences unnerved the social butterfly in Lady Y/n. Sebastian had instructed him to keep a steady conversation flowing between them at all times—he’d hypothesized she would feel they were compatible intellectually, if he could manage.

“Oh, I certainly have,” the heiress answered brightly. “Isn’t it fascinating? My father and I visited Chicago’s Columbian Exposition about two years ago. The fuel source are steam boilers with underground main pipes that then funnel the steam into pistons that then power thousand-horsepower engines. It’s an enormous axel,” Y/n explained with an intriguing willingness and clarity.

She knew the intricacies of engineering? How curious of a young noblewoman.

“Did you manage a ride on it?” Ciel asked, not offering his arm to her. That would foil his plan, and he figured Lady Y/n wouldn’t appreciate it at this stage. She valued her independence—or the appearance of being self-sufficient, at least. Ciel had yet to make his final verdict of her disposition. After all, the rumors were that her father trained her with the same intensity he would have a first-born son.

“Heavens, yes.” Lady Y/n said, making a clear effort to look ahead as they walked and maintain casual eye contact with him. Their servants lurked behind them, Sebastian entertaining Daphne with some mindless chatter while picking her brain for more information about her mistress. “There was no chance I would miss that sort of opportunity, being up so high like that.”

“I couldn’t imagine it, myself,” Ciel answered. They spoke aimlessly, cycling through topics they had in common: they were each accomplished linguists, readers, instrumentalists. Y/n even claimed to be a worthy fencing opponent, of all things.

“You are half my height,” not even the Earl could fight the amused twist of his lips at the thought of Lady Y/n parrying his advance. The top of her head just barely reached his chin by a handful of centimeters. And that was in addition to her stately heels.

“But Lord Phantomhive, all warfare is based on deception,” Y/n answered, blinking at him guiltlessly.

“Are you quoting The Art of War?” Ciel asked, raising an eyebrow. That would insinuate Y/n was competent in Classical Chinese, since Sun Tzu’s piece hadn’t been widely translated into English yet. A language that Ciel had still been in the process of mastering with Sebastian. The demon claimed to have been ‘around’ when the military strategist created the ancient military treatise. Presently, he felt it had important lessons for Ciel to understand.

Apparently, Y/n’s father—or her tutor—were incredibly insightful to pick such an ancient text to add to her studies. That was quite an advanced piece of literature. Honestly.

”Yes,” Lady Y/n said, as if this was obvious. “Who better to reference?”

Of course she read it. And learned it well enough to have quotes on hand. She could probably recite it in its original language, Ciel guessed. That wasn’t an unattractive quality in a woman—in fact, he felt a dim respect for it.

“I also quite appreciate Machiavelli’s inspired piece, The Prince,” Ciel answered, finding himself confident that Lady Y/n might understand his reference.

Y/N Y/L/N

His remark made you smile.

Of course, you’d heard the rumors about Ciel Phantomhive, The Queen’s Guard Dog, King of the Underworld, Police of the Underworld. While most of the public could only speculate the sorts of private investigative work that Her Majesty requested of the Phantomhive family, plenty of rumors swirled in the absence of the truth.

You heard whispers of no one daring to cross the Earl, for fear of severe repercussions. Life-threatening ones. You heard of the uncertainties surrounding the fatal inferno that burned down the manor so long ago, killing his family. His miraculous reappearance two years later. Apparently, now the Earl Phantomhive was reportedly a hardened man, callous and willing to crush any opponent in his path.

“You find you relate with the Italian diplomat?” You asked, curious about Lord Phantomhive’s response. Did he read this body of work as a step-by-step to creating a tyrannical regime, or did he perceive it as a frank reading of politics and the nature of diplomacy? It had been so long since you had a proper discussion about such matters with someone besides your father, your tutors, or Daphne, and you were decently assured they were weary of your constant need for knowledge.

The Earl seemed to enjoy this type of logical sparring, embracing it, even. It left you…curious to have more. If not, interested.

Lord Phantomhive took a brief moment to reply, leaving you to appreciate the scenery around you. The sky was impressively clear, no hint of any clouds near the horizon. Seagulls wailed to one another, fluttering about the long piers and across the empty coastline. As warm as it was, the weather wasn’t quite hot enough for there to be beach galas.

The air smelled of salt, gusts of air determined to pull strands of your hair astray. They were certainly doing a number on the Earl’s raven hair, tousling it playfully. This whole promenade, you had walked away from the direction of the gala, and now, as you reached the end of the pier, the two of you turned around, starting back.

“I think there’s more nuance—” Ciel started, “are you alright?”

Before you could process your fall, you were face-first on the sandy boards. Your knee erupted in pain, your bare skin touching your dress. You must have ripped your stockings? How could you have tripped? You had only allowed your mind to wander for a second, and there had been nothing obstructing your path, either!

Not to mention, your balance was typically impeccable. You were no ballerina, but years of fencing helped you regulate your posture and weight distribution.

It was as if the wooden board had simply decided to loosen, give somewhat under your weight, and catch your heel between the planks in order to trip you! How peculiar.

“I’m…fine. I only scraped my leg, I think,” you said, more mortified than pained. Your face reddened as you accepted Lord Phantomhive’s helpful hand, dusting off the sandy front of your dress with the other. You forced yourself to give him a weak smile, looking back down at the flooring. The wooden panel seemed to be perfectly in place.

“I’m not sure what could have caused that,” you added awkwardly, releasing the nobleman’s hand.

You were thankful that no one else was present to witness such an unbecoming moment of yours. It was a contender for one of your worst moments with a suitor.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

The panic in Lady Y/n’s face should have been enough to make Ciel regret his and Sebastian’s plan. However, he’d found it to be rather promising. If he could nail the proper response her ideal gentleman would give, Lady Y/n would feel vulnerable around him. That was key to making love inevitable. She might look to him for support going forward.

Of course she didn’t know what had caused her trip. Sebastian was fast enough to loosen the plank just enough for it to shift under her confident step and throw her off balance, only to re-tighten and return to Daphne’s side in milliseconds. Faster than a blink. That left Ciel to provide Lady Y/n with a helping hand, some validation…and apparently a young woman appreciated a man who could bandage her wounds.

“Oh dear,” Ciel said, his eyebrows drawing together in a construction of curiosity and concern. He ignored his own nagging thought that he sounded like his butler, swallowing down the embarrassment. He could feel Sebastian surveying his performance, having coached Ciel on this part of the interaction. “I wouldn’t wish for it to continue bleeding, you did scrape it,” he said carefully.

“Why don’t you take a seat? I have a handkerchief.” He gestured to one of the pier’s benches with his chin.

“It truly doesn’t hurt,” Y/n attempted to deflect, still staring at the plank curiously. Of course, she was smart enough to know that there had been something amiss, but of course, smart enough to never consider the supernatural.

Judging from the way her fist squeezed at her side, the superficial wound stung more than she wanted to admit. There was likely sand around the injury or near it, only an added irritant.

Ciel merely met her eyes, asking her if she truly intended to push ahead in mild discomfort. Y/n surrendered begrudgingly mumbling a mildly unladylike, “Oh, alright.” Not always so untroubled as she seemed, was that it?

“You’re not in any other pain?” Ciel asked, kneeling to get a closer look at Y/n’s scrape. Daphne, unconicidentally, didn’t have any medical supplies with her. Sebastian had conveniently hid them from the maid to afford Ciel the right to tend to his intended.

“No,” she confirmed, cringing at the light pressure Ciel applied to stop the bleeding and clean the debris. “Honestly, the plank had a mind of its own, it feels like,” she mused, her tilted head racing for some logical explanation. There was none.

“And you are positive you didn’t hit your head on the way down?” Ciel asked her, appreciating the ghost of a laugh that escaped her lips. That was the right thing to say, he could tell.

This battle of love was only growing easier. The Earl was growing confident, fashioning his dialogue to that of a novel protagonist’s. Bland and kind, slightly humorous.

“Positive. Unless I hit my psychotic break last week in agreeing to have you join me for a promenade,” Lady Y/n said, standing once Ciel tied the handkerchief around her leg tightly, stopping any more bleeding. “In which case, we might need some more urgent care.”

“Would it take another such reckoning for you to agree to meet me again?” Ciel asked, adding a new flair of seriousness to his voice as he righted himself in front of Lady Y/n. He took a quick moment to dust the fronts of his trousers free of sand before refocusing on Y/n, urging her for the answer he craved. The key to becoming an official suitor of hers.

One outing was a trial. Two was one step closer to serious consideration.

“No, it would not,” the begrudging grin at the heiress’ lips told Ciel that he’d offered her a masterclass in lying and deception. “Perhaps, the 1895 Grand National next weekend. My family loves to attend.”

Y/n Y/l/n was already inviting Ciel to the 57th renewal of the Grand National horse racing event? Perhaps, this endeavor was going to be easier than Ciel originally thought….

Tag List: @vixxzill, @theblueslytherin

[megafart1]

WIP of my Fiddauthor fic!!!

Don't know where else to post, enjoy- follows the same premise as my comic but in more depth and more scenes.

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

An excuse to drink dissolved the fervent tenacity with which Ford and Fiddleford had pushed their pencils a few hours earlier. A desire to unwind, celebrate, and enjoy some rewarding and thoughtful conversation between the two was mutually acknowledged. Fiddleford had finally managed to adapt the hyperdrive into the rest of the mechanical configuration, entailing a huge advancement in their construction of the portal. Such a breakthrough in close proximity to the holidays was unprecedented but warmly welcomed, and naturally Ford had proposed an evening of indulging in nog. Neither was willing to admit that the progress on the portal didn’t exactly call for inebriated merrymaking just a day before Fiddleford’s flight, and so an awkward ignorance of this ethical transgression (and the fact that the other also consciously ignored it) hung in the air. 

The lively buzz of their conversation filled the kitchen as Ford prepared the beverages. He’d offered to let Fiddleford sit back and enjoy the joint celebration of both work and the holiday plans that were run short. Idle talk between the two was always fast-paced, profound, and difficult for the ordinary person to follow along. They teetered down intellectual rabbit holes, bounced ideas off each other with incipient enthusiasm, and challenged each others’ thinking with astute noetic prowess. There was always something about which they could engage in heated discussion in their slivers of free time, and the loftiness of the kitchen provided a great environment for philosophical jousts. 

Ford frequently looked up from the crowded kitchen counter to reply to Fiddleford, before reverting his attention to exactly measuring out each ingredient. The concoction was already simmering in a saucepan as Ford leveled out a cup of sugar with surgical precision. The topic was Fiddleford’s computer business now, Ford’s inquiries probing the reception of such radical innovation in Palo Alto. 

“How about Emma May? Does she take an interest in your business?” Ford set down the measuring cup and looked at Fiddleford.

“I wish I could say so, but I conduct my business in the garage.” he chuckled. “She has more important things to worry about.” Fiddleford stopped fidgeting with his hands and turned his head to look at Ford, expecting a lighthearted quip. He was met with silence.

Ford’s expression was unreadable. There was a blankness to it that disconcerted Fiddleford, and he couldn’t tell whether Ford was looking at him or past him.

In a split second it was over and Ford turned back to the countertop as quickly as he had turned away from it.

-----------

Ford kept his eyes strictly on what was in front of him. She didn’t care for any of it? The thought was strange. Ford found himself ruminating over the entirety of the three seconds of Fiddleford’s remark. Could you spot any sadness in his eyes? Maybe he’s being a little dismissive? Is this possibly illating towards a bigger problem between them?

Get ahold of yourself. How on earth could you arrive at such a contrived conclusion???

Ford realized he’d already staled the conversation by retreating into his head, and there wasn’t any chance to further question Fiddleford. But good grief, was he curious. He wanted a sign, some sort of confirmation that he wasn’t just imagining Fiddleford and Emma May’s marriage as an unhappy one beneath all the chicanery. What does it belong to me anyway… what would my muse think if he caught me engaging in such nosy speculation? I’ve got better things to worry about. He glanced up at Fiddleford, unbothered by the abrupt introspection but now gazing somewhere else, absentmindedly bouncing his leg at ≈240 KBPM and zoned out. He turned his head to look at Ford again and met his gaze with a humoring smile. Ford sensed his cue to speak, having no choice but to let his mouth lead in diffusing the somewhat awkward atmosphere he had conjured.

“How would you like your nog?” Ford posed with false confidence, hoping nothing seemed amiss with his impromptu change of topic. He marinated in self-doubt as he waited intently for Fiddleford, who would clearly put a lot of thought into the matter, to formulate an answer. Did that come off as too abrupt? The time between what he said and what I said took far too long. I can’t let him think I care about what he said. It was a casual remark. Casual.

“Don’t be stingy with the booze.” he grinned. “D’you reckon the base is sweet?” 

“I added 25% more sugar than the recipe called for- a calculated gamble,” Ford announced, a hint of prideful unseriousness in his voice. He could feel a bit of the self-induced tension melt away as Fiddleford flashed a pleased smile at him.

A bottle of rum was set on the kitchen counter, along with a dwindling bag of sugar, opened egg carton, and an emptied carton of half-and-half. Two small containers of cinnamon and nutmeg from the inadequately-stocked spice cabinet sat at an arm’s length away from the bowls and saucepans Ford had methodically arranged onto the counter. A scrawled-out recipe bearing neat folding lines rested right at the edge of the tabletop, which Ford periodically squinted at. 

The conversation wandered off elsewhere and Ford maintained a dual attentiveness to both his thoughts and his ongoing conversation with Fiddleford. After turning back from the freezer, Ford permitted himself to sit down on the dining table and immerse himself fully (or as much as he could) in what Fiddleford was saying. Time off work was rare but to be enjoyed, especially with a significant hurdle now crossed. He felt his face glow with endearing warmth as he observed his best friend launch into yet another tangent about the inconvenience of hardware sourcing. There was something intrinsically admirable about the passion Fiddleford harbored for computers- the way his eyes lit up given the opportunity to mention his newest application of algorithms, his eagerness to cater to any interest Ford showed in technology, his devotion to tinkering away with microchips and circuit boards in the early hours, just as he had in university. 

BMU. What a time. Even after five years of self-imposed isolation at Gravity Falls, an immediate rekindling of the friendship between them felt instinctive, and Ford couldn’t help but feel drawn (once again!) to Fiddleford’s kindness and brilliance. Things truly are the same way they’ve always been, he mused. He stole a glance at Fiddleford’s eyes. They were a pale hazel he knew well, focused and sharp, with a gaze that Ford felt only he truly understood. Fiddleford could never look at one place for long while talking, as Ford had noticed long ago, but it always seemed far easier to just tune everything out and listen to him during their split seconds of eye contact. I can appreciate him like this. This is allowed.  

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

The conversation teetered to an unsatisfying halt after a while, as Ford stood up with a characteristic stiffness to retrieve the eggnog. Fiddleford wondered if he’d said anything disinteresting as Ford had his back turned to him. 

“It’s lukewarm by now. Are you fine with that? It’s not as viscous as it could be.” Ford turned to stare at Fiddleford, gauging his reaction. 

“Of course it’s fine! Hand me a glass.” Fiddleford was more than eager to calm his nerves after today, and he couldn’t imagine a better way to pass his last day in Gravity Falls before Christmas- he’d achieved something genuinely considerable after what felt like weeks of non-stop attempts. Something worthwhile at last!

Fiddleford’s arms remembered the ache of miniscule dexterity required to wire the hyperdrive just a few hours ago as he reached to grab the glass out of Ford’s outstretched hand. His knee still bounced as he took the first sip. It’s done. You can stop worrying. 

Idle remarks about the success of the recipe bubbled into passionate chatter yet again, and Fiddleford felt the tension in his body begin to subside. He impulsively reached for another glass after he’d downed his first, rationalizing that he could afford to properly destress. The bitter aftertaste the nog left on his mouth was outshined by the warmth and comfort the kitchen bathed him in. For the moment, the grip his thoughts had on him was a little gentler. It feels great to be suffocated when one is used to being crushed. 

Near-bottomless laughter and humorous reminiscence on university days transported Fiddleford back to his first day at BMU. He prayed he didn’t visibly reflect the emotions attached to the analepsis to (and by extension dampen the spirits of) the unusually raucous and unguarded Ford he became after a few drinks. 

---------

Hot tears of shame spitefully trickled down Fiddleford’s cheeks. He shielded his face with his hands, as if they’d cover any of the sobs ripping from his throat, and hunched himself over the (pointlessly) unpacked bed. His shoulders jerked with the effort of containing each heave, and he could feel his skin begin to burn up against his clothes. It’s over. Starting university was supposed to be the greatest time of his life, yet here he sat, ridiculously, crying in his dorm on only his first day. It was plain and clear he wasn’t cut out for this- his mind raced to the farm and how sad everyone had been to see him go. He’d been too hopeful- no McGucket had ever amounted to anything good enough to get out of Tennessee, and he was stupid to think he was some sort of exception. 

As Fiddleford dug himself deeper and deeper into self-loathing, he heard a door unlock. Dang it! Scrambling to collect himself, he looked up from his trembling fists to be blinded by the bright fluorescents outside. A silhouette sauntered into the doorframe, obscuring his view of the corridor. 

“Greetings!” Fiddleford heard a flicker and the room was cast into light that felt inappropriately upbeat. Fiddleford shrunk back into himself as he could now get a view of the person’s face. 

A man his age, clad in a blue button-down shirt, brown sweater vest, and dark slacks stood frozen at the door, his hand still hovering over the light switch. He was staring at Fiddleford’s tear-streaked face, wearing an expression that appeared equally appalled to be faced with such an awkward first impression. Fiddleford observed as the man reformulated his approach. His gaze swept the room before setting foot in it.

“Ah. I apologize for intruding… is this not a good time?” The hasty show of peaceful intentions was genuine, and Fiddleford could spy a hint of pity in his lively eyes. The bags the man carried in one arm rustled as he set them down as tactfully as possible.

“I-it’s fine.” Fiddleford internally grimaced as he bumbled over his first word, hiccuping as he choked the second one out. He gave his face a quick wipe with the sleeve of his sweater he’d been wearing all day, a pathetic attempt at fitting in at this stupid institution, then glanced back up at the man. 

“Alright then. Will you be okay?” The man picked up his bags again and decisively shuffled into the room, unhindered by the moving boxes clanging against his belongings. He kept his eyes trained on Fiddleford even as he maneuvered himself through the chaos, causing Fiddleford to squirm a little under such scrutiny. 

He wouldn’t be okay. All of his parents’ hopes for him had been steamrolled flat in a day, and the scholarship would go to waste. He could just about imagine their disappointment as he broke the news to them. Another bout of sobs seized Fiddleford’s body as he envisioned the scene. Could it get any more humiliating?

“No, dammit!” Fiddleford wailed, crumpling back into the support of his hands. His glasses slid down his forehead as he sniffled. He already looked pathetic in front of this man, an unsightly pile of cowboy boots and teardrops. What business did this stranger have knowing what had happened anyway? Fiddleford gave it some thought. Judging by the bags, this was his new roommate. The realization made him pause. It couldn’t hurt to open up the day’s events a little, he reckoned. He straightened his back out and smoothed the folds on his sweater, still avoidant of eye contact with the man.

“Today’s been- *hic* rough, that’s for sure.” Fiddleford let out a feeble laugh, trying to steady his breathing. There was no response from the man.

“Could you imagine? First day at uni and I’ve already made a fool out of myself. I wrote out an equation proving the universe is *hic* a hologram!” Fiddleford’s attempt to frame things cheerily was bogged down by the bitter reality of it all as the words left his mouth. Even he can’t laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Oh, did you?” The man’s voice was tinged with sudden interest, and he stood up from his bags to face Fiddleford. “Could I see?” 

Wait, what? Fiddleford stared intently at the man. Was he joking? 

His enthusiastic tone was clear as day. Fiddleford hesitantly rose from the bed to retrieve his workings with a skeptical “Alrighty then”. He braced himself to be mocked by this man as he laid out the paper on a worktable. To Fiddleford’s surprise, the man actually leaned over the work- with an air of solemn professionality at that. In the duration of time he examined the papers, Fiddleford beat himself up repeatedly, second-guessing every last detail of his workings despite quintuple-checking them. He didn’t want to be considered a fool by one more person. 

“It’s plausible!” Fiddleford’s monologue was cut short as the man looked up from the grid-paper. Fiddleford didn’t know what else to do other than let out a disbelieving laugh. 

“You think so?” 

“Your equation works. With a thorough examination this, I think we’d be able to prove your conjecture!”

Fiddleford felt a glimmer of hope in his chest. 

“Our conjecture- you’re proving it with me!” He flashed a smile to the man who now took to pacing the carpet.

“You bet your keister I am! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep till I prove this.”

Fiddleford chuckled and agreed. 

“I’m Stanford Pines. Pleased to work with you.” He stopped in his tracks for a moment, hands behind his back and beaming at Fiddleford. Another Ford? Fiddleford smiled, not back at Stanford, but for the fact that he was aware of the coincidence just a few seconds before Stanford would be.

“Fiddleford McGucket. Nice meeting you too.” Fiddleford could track delight arising from pattern-seeking manifest on Stanford’s face as he registered the similarity. 

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

The raw memory seared Fiddleford’s skull with the vividity of it all, dizzying him even as he sat firmly rooted in his seat. Misery, glee, and longing amalgamated into a single crashing wave of emotion that submerged him in its magnitude, sweeping Fiddleford into a violent current. To his despair, Ford couldn’t see his dear friend drowning, flailing, thrashing for air as the pitcher of booze emptied itself over the hour. The kitchen was mockingly phasing in and out of proximity now, Ford’s voice the only certainty that anchored Fiddleford to his surroundings. He wasn’t even paying attention to what came out of his own mouth in response to his partner’s charming drabblings. Some hangover this’ll be. 

On impulse, Fiddleford circulated the toasty air of the kitchen through his lungs until he felt his head clear sufficiently, turning to fix his attention to the story being told. He failed to do so, only noticing the way Ford’s features were illuminated with a tender clarity that the lamp failed to provide all else in the room with. Fiddleford let his eyes wander over the reddened face, wild dark eyes, and effervescent grin so familiar to him. When’s Ford last been this hammered? Vague flashes of solo cups filled with cheap alcohol, frenzied passion projects in the dead of night, and almost-kisses shared in dorm rooms crossed Fiddleford’s mind. The bouncing leg which he’d fought so hard to still today sped its way up to a steady rhythm once more. This calls for more booze.  The batch of eggnog had been worked through with unprecedented speed, so Ford had at some point set what remained of the rum on the table for enjoyment. Looking for an extra shot, Fiddleford quickly spotted the bottle fully emptied and laying on its side. Ah.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Summer COVID surge shows we may have to return to 2020 pandemic measures - Published Aug 29, 2024

As summer 2024 draws to a close, the U.S. finds itself once again grappling with a surge in COVID-19 infections.

This wave has taken many people by surprise, particularly as the country has largely consigned the pandemic to the past. While public life has pretty much returned to pre-pandemic norms — something almost none of us would have believed in the summer of 2020 — the virus itself has not.

Mutations of the virus continue to occur, and new variants are emerging, posing ongoing challenges to public health and safety. As we look ahead to the remainder of 2024 and into early 2025, we need to take stock of where we are, understand the factors driving this resurgence and better anticipate how the pandemic might evolve.

The recent surge in COVID-19 cases has disrupted summer travel plans, overwhelmed healthcare facilities in certain areas, and left many Americans dealing with the familiar symptoms of fever, cough and fatigue. The summer months, typically associated with lower respiratory virus activity, have instead seen a significant uptick in COVID-19 infections. Several factors contribute to this unexpected surge.

One factor is the high transmissibility of newer variants. The virus has continued to mutate, with certain variants displaying enhanced ability to spread, even among populations with high vaccination rates. While vaccines remain effective at preventing severe disease and death, breakthrough infections are becoming more common, especially as immunity from earlier vaccinations wanes.

Second, the widespread relaxation of public health measures has created an environment conducive to transmission. Mask mandates, social distancing guidelines and restrictions on large gatherings have all but disappeared. This return to normalcy, while massively psychologically and economically beneficial, has provided the virus with ample opportunities to spread.

Finally, the pervasive sense of pandemic fatigue has led to a serious decline in vigilance. Many people, weary of the pandemic’s disruptions to their lives, have become markedly less cautious. This complacency, coupled with the underestimation of the virus’s ability to adapt, has allowed COVID-19 to regain a foothold.

The federal government’s response to the latest surge has been tepid at best. After years of intense focus on COVID-19, there is a palpable desire in Washington to move on. This has resulted in a fragmented approach, with responsibility for managing the current wave largely devolving to state and local governments. While some have reinstated certain precautions, others have continued with business as usual, leading to inconsistent messaging and outcomes.

Moreover, the federal government’s decision to end the public health emergency earlier this year has had unintended consequences. The end of the emergency declaration led to a reduction in federal funding for testing, contact tracing, and vaccination efforts, just as these tools are once again needed. The lack of a coordinated national strategy has hampered efforts to control the surge and has left healthcare providers scrambling to manage increased caseloads with fewer resources.

Looking ahead, the trajectory of the pandemic remains uncertain, but there are several key trends and scenarios to consider.

The virus is likely to continue mutating, with new variants emerging that could potentially evade immunity from previous infections or vaccinations. This means that COVID-19 will remain a moving target, requiring ongoing surveillance and adaptation of public health strategies. The development of updated vaccines and treatments will be critical in staying ahead of the virus, but the speed at which these can be rolled out will determine their effectiveness.

We can and should also expect periodic surges in COVID-19 cases, particularly in the fall and winter months, when respiratory viruses typically thrive. These surges may not reach the levels seen during the height of the pandemic, but they could still cause significant disruption, particularly in areas with low vaccination rates or limited healthcare capacity. Localized outbreaks, driven by specific variants or super-spreader events, will likely become regular features of the landscape.

The healthcare system, already strained from years of dealing with the pandemic, is also going to face additional pressure if the current surge continues into the fall and winter. Hospitals and clinics will need to balance the demands of COVID-19 patients with the resumption of regular medical care that had been postponed during the pandemic’s earlier phases. This balancing act could lead to increased wait times, resource shortages and burnout among healthcare workers.

And we can’t underestimate how public fatigue with COVID-19 precautions will grow, making it more difficult to reimpose restrictions or encourage preventive behaviors. This resistance could be particularly strong in regions that have experienced relatively low case numbers or where political leaders have downplayed the severity of the virus. Overcoming this fatigue will require clear and consistent communication from public health officials, as well as community-level engagement to reinforce the importance of ongoing vigilance.

We are also making a big mistake if we ignore the economic and social implications of continued COVID-19. The virus’s persistence may lead to renewed disruptions in the travel industry, supply chains and workforce participation. Along with this, the psychological toll of a prolonged pandemic, with the associated uncertainty and anxiety, could have lasting effects on mental health and societal cohesion. Policymakers will need to address these challenges proactively, with a focus on resilience and support for affected populations.

So where do we realistically go from here, given that it is clear that COVD-19 is far from over? While much progress has been made in terms of vaccination and treatment, the current surge is a stark reminder that complacency is not an option. The road ahead will require a renewed commitment to public health, both from government leaders and from individuals.

We all need to prepare for not only the possibility of continued disruptions but for another new normal that might be a little closer to 2020 than how we’ve recently been living. That means preparing for future waves and the long-term implications of a world in which COVID-19 remains a persistent, if manageable, threat.

Aron Solomon is the chief strategy officer for Amplify. He has taught entrepreneurship at McGill University and the University of Pennsylvania.

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Talks Career Interests And His ‘A Different Man’ Film

By Jeff Conway

Sure, you likely know him for his many Marvel film appearances as Bucky Barnes, but actor Sebastian Stan has often taken “the road less traveled” when it comes to his career, having built quite the unique repertoire of memorable performances in far less conventional films.

That observation has arguably never been more visible than with his involvement in the new A24 film, A Different Man. Written & directed by Aaron Schimberg and co-starring Adam Pearson and Renate Reinsve, it tells the story of Edward (Stan), an aspiring actor who undergoes a breakthrough medical procedure to transform his facial appearance, but soon regrets his decision when he becomes obsessed with reclaiming what he has lost.

I sat down with Stan, Pearson and Schimberg to uncover the origin and the creative thought process that went into this new project, which is now playing in select theaters in New York and Los Angeles - nationwide come October 4. For filmmaker Schimberg, this purposefully uncomfortable narrative and the overall project hits rather close to home.

Schimberg said, “I mean, for me, it’s sort of a personal story. I have cleft palate and it’s just sort of me thinking about how it’s affected me in my life and others’ perception of me and my perception about myself. My previous film [Chained for Life] also dealt with the subject in some ways, so that’s sort of what I am always thinking about when I am starting to write a film. I was also thinking about Adam because I had worked with him previously and he played a shy character in Chained for Life, my last film, and he’s not shy at all - and yet, people I think sort of thought that he was playing himself in my movie because they sort of assumed that he must be shy. So, I was inspired to write something that was closer to who he is - taken to a comical extreme, maybe, and I wanted him to show off his range, but I also just wanted to work with him again, so these were some of the starting points.”

Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis, which is a rare genetic disorder that typically causes benign tumors of the nerves and growths in other parts of the body, went on to share what it was about A Different Man and his Oswald character that most intrigued him to want to make this his next film.

“Well, I enjoyed working with Aaron the first time, so when he said, ‘Would you consider working with me again?’ Straight away, I was like, Ding Ding! Round two - let’s rock and roll. Then the script - all the words have weight. There’s very little wasted motion in the script. The end result of the film is quite challenging and holds up a mirror to an audience. I’ve never been a fan of hand-holding or sugar-coating. I think audiences can be a lot smarter than we often give them credit for. A good film will change what you think for a couple of days, but a great film will change how you think for the rest of your life. We’re certainly trying, at least, to be in the great film business.”

With Stan not only acting in A Different Man but also an executive producer, I wondered how he has perhaps noticed his interests and priorities towards the stories that matter most to him as a professional and human being evolving as time goes on.

Stan said, “Well, you get a little older and the questions get a little scarier. A few years ago, I just decided to kind of just be a little bit more aggressive about finding specific work that was interesting and different and kind of challenging for me than what I was getting to do. Eventually, you find yourself in conversations that are in the development of certain things and that might lead to a producing kind of aspect. I think in this [A Different Man] situation, I was involved before A24 came on, which never really happens for me. Not only because of obviously how I felt about the story and so on, I felt really brought in by Aaron and [producer] Vanessa [McDonnell] into their journey with this film and like what they were wanting to do. So, I felt a much bigger attachment than I usually do as an actor in a way.”

When it came time to film A Different Man, Stan recalls the production not having much time, which he actually found to be helpful within his producer role “because when you’re involved in some capacity beyond acting, sometimes you can kind of go, Hey, let’s continue shooting or something. You can help add more to the making of it in some capacity and that was big for us, given our time - that we didn’t have a lot of time.”

In fact, during one particular scene in the film, Stan remembers while everybody else was wrapping up the production trucks for the night, he decided to head out on the streets of New York City with his A Different Man director of photography Wyatt Garfield and Schimberg to grab additional footage. “I just kind of took one of his other little cameras and then we started going up and down Columbus Avenue. It was Friday night and we just got all these shots. Maybe you don’t always get to do that, so that was helpful.”

As I began to conclude my conversation with these three gentlemen, I wondered what Pearson and Stan would say to their A Different Man characters, Oswald and Edward, after seeing their stories play out on-screen and understanding their wants out of life.

Pearson said, “I’d be like to Oswald, Maybe turn it down a little bit. Be nicer to [Stan’s character Edward] because he might not say it, but he loves you and he needs you right now.”

As for the message Stan would tell Edward, he said, “Listen to me! I’m here - I’m telling you. I don’t know how I feel about this. Just hear me out.”

He then added: “It’s very interesting because we all have these moments in life, big or small, where you make a decision or you even say something because you’re with other people or you’re supposed to say something the right way, but you know your reaction in the moment or the decision you’re making is not what your gut is like really telling you. Then, you feel kind of like you’ve abandoned yourself, but then you just quickly deny that - that can kind of like spiral down. We’ve all kind of not owned certain things in the moment and that’s sort of what happens. He kind of drowns out that voice.”

[psychics4unet]

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[storiesbyjes2g]

3.164 Time

We got ourselves and Desi dressed in green again and headed to the cemetery. The trip was quite cumbersome with the portable crib, Desi's bag, and portable chairs, but we made it. I set everything up so we could wait comfortably for Less to arrive. Thankfully, Desi didn't fight me about putting her in the crib, though I feel like she was threatening me under her breath, heh.

She glared at me, and I stared back, but not to intimidate her. I just got lost in thought. Sitting here in the cemetery looking at her before I bury my mother put things in a really odd, grim perspective. I'm sad for her, Breanna, Arvin, and Lex. I don't know how old my parents were when they had us, but I think me and Less might be a little older than they were, and Sophia is even older than us. That means the kids will have to deal with this earlier in their lives, and I'm already sorry for that pain we'll cause them. I'm especially sad for Desi because she'll be alone. I mean, she'll have her cousins, and hopefully her own family, but no one will miss us quite like she will. That is a burden she'll bear all by herself, and I hate that for her.

Less arrives, complaining about her exhaustion and the challenges of caring for three infants. Part of her is relieved they'll be walking in a few days, but she's mostly dreading it because that means more trouble and she'll really have to keep an eye on them. I try to pivot by saying things will be better when they're toddlers because they'll be less dependent on her, meaning she can do more things with them, including dropping them at our house from time to time. She appreciated that part. She's felt like she's been in prison with them, especially since Mama passed.

Speaking of Mama, I told Less to pull up a chair and asked what her favorite memory of her was. I thought she would have to think about it, but she had one at the ready. Less was never a very huggy child and always had a passive attitude about everything. That made it hard for her and Mama to connect. She always felt like Mama liked me more. Her favorite memory was the first time she felt like she and Mama had a breakthrough. The day after her teen birthday, Mama got her a phone. She was so excited and wanted her to be a part of her online world. Less showed her all her favorite SimTube videos, all the profiles of the kids at school, all the memes, all the things. Mama didn't ask questions or show any concerns about her being so obsessed. She just watched everything and even seemed interested in it all.

Sophia didn't know her long enough to have a favorite memory, but she said she'd never forget when they met. Meeting your partner's parents is always a nerve-wracking experience, but when you're talking about marriage and starting a family, it's even more unnerving. If it doesn't go well, that experience will hang over your head for the rest of your life, potentially. But meeting Emmy was such nice, chill experience. First, she was so gorgeous it was almost intimidating. She didn't ask a thousand questions or embarrass me like many moms do. Meeting Mama was like making a new friend—a friend who was even more a fan of me than she was, heh. She was just an amazing woman.

While Less and Sophia told their stories, I tried hard to comb over my brain and pick just one. It was so hard to do, but I finally settled on one. We all know she loved us like nobody's business, but I remember the moment I realized how far her love would go. I begged Mama to let Dad come on my birthday trip to Mt. Komorebi. I knew they were divorced, and I knew she was dating someone, but it was really important to me for all of us to be together. It was basically tradition because we were always together for our birthdays. She told me no every time I asked, but when we arrived, Dad was there. She was willing to put aside her feelings and work through the awkwardness just so I could have what I wanted. That's the moment I learned how sacrificial the love of a parent is, and I try to be that for Desi.

Speaking of Desi, it was past her nap time, and she was fighting sleep. I'll never understand why babies do that. They know they're tired and need to sleep, yet they try to stay awake anyway. But the most beautiful scene in the world played out right in front of me. Sophia was about to get up and see about her, but Less got up and said, "Relax. I got it." She walked over to the crib and soothed Desi until she fell asleep. It was so beautiful I almost cried. I keep saying this, but I mean it more and more every time I say it. Each time I see her interact with the babies, I know despite how sucky her situation is, everything will be alright. I probably don't even need to worry about her as much as I do. She's always so concerned that she's not a good mom, but she has the skills. If only she can see what I see. If she didn't have children, I think she'd be a dope auntie. She probably looked forward to having fun with my children, spoiling them rotten, getting them high on sugar, and them sending them back to me, but now she has her own crew to deal with.

We shared a few more stories and laughs before a natural pause in the conversation came up. We sat in the silence for a moment because we knew it was time to say goodbye. I got up and placed the urn on the plot in front of Dad's headstone. Alessia and Sophia joined me, and we circled around the plot, trying to find the strength to say goodbye. It's so interesting how fast things can change. One moment we're laughing and chopping it up, and the literal next moment we're trying to hold back tears.

"Mama," I said in a broken voice, "I know you said you didn't want us crying, but how can we not? You're gone."

Those words almost took me out, and I needed a moment to ground myself before I could finish. Sophia came closer and rubbed my arm and told me everything was okay.

"You were everything to me, and I..."

Neither of us could take it anymore.

We cried and hugged, just like we did when Grim came. I was really glad Desi was asleep because we really needed that moment for ourselves. Again, we cried until we had no tears left. Desi had woken up by then, so we definitely needed to get home. I gave Less one final hug, and she told me she wants to live closer but not in Dad's house.

"Say less," I said. "I'll take care of it."