#Hoops Desole

[thewidowstanton]

The Widow's Best of 2023

Jane Hobson 2023: Following such a desperate year for so many in the world this quotation by Nietzsche seems pertinent. "We have art in order not to die of the truth." So, in an effort to uplift whoever might read this, here's a somewhat curtailed list of a few of our favourite things we've seen this year. It wasn't the hottest time for live shows; we walked out of five! One every few years, maybe, but five! Disappointing. However we still managed to find some wonderful things, not all of them new. Let's begin with…

MOST SPECTACULAR: Phelim McDermott's Akhnaten at the London Coliseum. We'd been asked so many times: "Have you seen Akhnaten?" No, we hadn't but now we have and, OK, it's a Philip Glass opera (pictured above and below) but really, with a set by Tom Pye and costumes by Kevin Pollard it's a full-on feast for the senses, with the ever-inventive Gandini Juggling, choreographed by Sean Gandini, doing what they do best.

Jane Hobson BEST CIRCUS SHOW: Cirque Le Roux's thrilling and ambitious Entre Chiens et Louves – staged at Le Bon Marché department store in Paris (take note Selfridges) – took our breath away even without the sublime Lolita Costet in the cast; and Circa's Humans II at the Queen Elizabeth Hall at London's Southbank Centre.

COMPANY TO WATCH: Hoops Désolé! A “crazy” six-strong troupe of artists drawn from the circus school in Quebec, Cirque du Soleil and Cirque Éloize.

Emma Kauldhar BEST DANCE: Wayne McGregor’s Woolf Works at London’s Royal Opera House, with the mesmerising Alessandra Ferri, who at 59 was the same age as Virginia Woolf when she died. Another dancer with astonishing longevity is the Spanish Lucía Lacarra, now 48, who appeared in the Ballet Icons Gala at the London Coliseum.

BEST SHOWBIZ MEMOIR: Walking Through Walls by performance artist Marina Abramović; Do It For Your Mum by Roy Wilkinson, then manager of his brothers' band British Sea Power.

MOST TERRIFYING: He's done some daring things in his time and on World Circus Day Hungarian high-wire artist Laci Simet performed a sensational walk across the River Danube – 40 metres up in the wind – with only a balance pole to keep him safe.

BEST FILM: German film Afire or Roter Himmel by Christian Petzold (he’ll never let you down); Babak Jalali’s Fremont, set in a fortune cookie factory; and the Mexican film The Empty Hours directed by Aarón Fernández.

BEST ARCHIVE PIC: Josephine Baker and Dalida at L’Olympia music hall in Paris in 1968. A legendary pair!

LONGEST-SERVING FEMALE DJ: Texan Mary McCoy, who at 85 has been on the air for almost 72 years, and entered the Guinness Book of Records.

BEST DESERT ISLAND DISCS CASTAWAY: Actor/comedian/writer and so on, Adrian Edmondson; snooker star Ronnie O’Sullivan.

MOST INSPIRING: The Maricarmen dance school in Chorrillos, south of Lima, in Peru, run by retired dancer Maria del Carmen Silva, offers free classes to girls of all abilities from low-income areas.

BEST DOCUMENTARY: Never Be a Punching Bag for Nobody by indie rock musician Naomi Yang; My Indiana Muse, in which artist Robert Townsend discovers his Kodachrome muse, Helen.

FOND FAREWELL: Actor David McCallum, who, as The Man from U.N.C.L.E.’s Illya Kuryakin was an enduring heartthrob for a certain generation of girls and women. Closer to home the UK lost its leading circus director, Phillip Gandey (above), at 67, whose shows – including Cirque Surreal, The Chinese State Circus and The Lady Boys of Bangkok – were always far and away the most creative and exciting; and The Circus of Horrors – a show I reviewed more times than any other, except perhaps Cirque du Soleil – lost its co-creator and frontman, Doktor Haze (below) at 66. Along with Gerry Cottle, they were notable as two of the nicest circus men I met during my reviewing years, and are greatly missed.

LAST WORD: It wouldn't be a Widow Stanton 'Best of' without some showgirls. This picture was taken by the Argentinian photographer Luisita Escarria, who with her sister Chela, documented all the artists appearing in revues in Buenos Aires from 1958 to 2009. Their story and wondrous archive might have been lost had it not been rescued by filmmakers Sol Miraglia and Hugo Manso. Their documentary Foto Estudio Luisita will warm your heart… and fortunately both the sisters lived long enough to see it.

Compiled by Liz Arratoon

[serenity-the-firefly]

three seagrass throws caution to the political wind and takes an extremely dangerous mission AND travels across the universe AND makes an unsanctioned stop on her already-sort-of-illegal trip AND basically makes up a reason to take mahit with her just because she misses her so much but STILL has not questioned her xenophobia. girl i love you but you gotta examine your privilege here

[cl0wnb0yyy]

the chosen ones

image id:

a drawing of jonathan sims, gerry keay, and agnes montague arranged in three points around a circle. they are drawn from mid torso up.

jonathan sims is a brown skinned man with several round scars all over his skin and a scar across his throat. jon has his large brown eyes open with a green highlight inside the iris. jons got long and thick kinky hair that is a darkish brown with grey streaked through, he has a mustache that matches these colours. jon is wearing a purple sweater and has a red hair clip displayed on the right side of his hair. jon has medium sized gauges in his visible ear.

gerry keay is a fair skinned man with eye tattoos on his arms and one on his neck. around these tattoos is a burn scar that covers his arms up to the mid point of his neck. he has one dark blue eye open with a paler blue highlight in the iris. gerry has stubble on his top lip and dotted on his jaw. adorning his face is two lip rings, a septum piercing, a bridge piercing, eyebrow, large gauges, and two cartilage ear piercings. gerry has half of his head buzzed showing his natural blond, this blond is also seen on the other side of his head where the roots are visible before falling in long black hair. he is wearing a black singlet with the faint showings of his breasts in the wide ripped arm holes.

agnes montague is a woman with pinkish white skin and red straight hair, her eyes are completely closed. her skin is speckled with many freckles along her face and visible chest. the trace of a unibrow is present. agnes is wearing a cream button up with a wide collar, exposing cleavage, as well as the faint hint of high waisted brown pants. she has a necklace and single hoop earring visible.

in the circle behind these three are a series of symbols reminiscent of aspects of the entities end, desolation, and the eye. between jon and agnes are small drawings of: an eye, a camera, a tape recorder (these are repeated three times), a burning picture, a fire, and a candle (these are also repeated three times). between agnes and gerry there are: a candle, a fire, a burning picture, a ribcage with a heart behind, a book, and a skull. between gerry and jon is: a skull, a book, a ribcage with a heart behind (these three are repeated three times), a tape recorder, a camera, an eye (these are also repeated three times).

the background is purple and black.

end id.

[chryblossomjjk]

the weekend | jjk (teaser)

→pairing: dilf!jk x babysitter reader

→rating/genre: m/18+ | fwb?, angst, full fic will include smut

→word count: 618

→warnings: suggestive (as in building up to smut), some dirty talk, hair pulling, neck smoochies, lil lingerie moment, slightly dangerous moment in a car?, implied infidelity, smol appearance from bby yul (holds up ‘aww’ cue card)

→summary: Every weekend, you give Jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing Monday through Friday.

→notes: um long time no see i haven't posted any writing in a while so im v excited and nervy atm! had this teaser planned for a hot minute so yeah v excited to see your reactions! i don't have a set date when this will come out but hopefully soon. as for now, you can check out my masterlist if u wanna wink wink. also this fic will be v angsty so pls if thats not ur thing, skip this. ok love u bye !! feedback is appreciated v much uwu. also this is not beta’d obvi so if there’s any typos or goofiness rip im sorry :’(

“Well, there’s still time.” You point to the clock on his touchscreen stereo; 11:12 p.m. You throw your hair over your shoulder before slowly undoing the top two buttons of your shirt, revealing the skimpy black lingerie set you bought just for tonight. Just for him. “We can celebrate…”

“Yeah?” His cheek bubbles, teasing tongue poking at the inside of his mouth, eyebrow jumping at your suggestion. “How so?”

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. Hastily, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the center console. It’s reckless, but so was being with a man like Jungkook. You’re incapable of rational thought when you finally get to have him the way you want. One night of him isn’t enough. What kind of tease is that? You need at least six more to be satisfied.

“__,” he warns, arching his head away from your sneaky lips.  “Put your seatbelt on. Wait until we get to the hotel.”

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” You pout, cupping his cheek and batting your eyelashes innocently. Jungkook doesn’t take the bait, giving the desolate road ahead his unwavering attention. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, you can tell you’re getting to him. Below you, his slacks tighten around his thick, tensed thighs. He’s playing right into your hands. Needily, you tongue the little silver hoops dangling from his ear. 

“If I have to pull over, you’re in trouble.”

“Maybe I-”

A hushed ‘fuck’ cuts you off as the car comes to a screeching halt. Jungkook slams on the brakes, coming too close to the slower vehicle in front of you for comfort. Luckily, his dad reflexes kick in, strong hand gripping your waist tightly, preventing you from barreling forward. You brace yourself by clutching his shoulders, and when the adrenaline rush fades, you finally look at him. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is clenched painfully tight.

He’s pissed. 

You know you should apologize, or be shaken up at the very least, but the blinking of his turn signal as he pulls to the side of the dark highway has your mouth watering. This is just what you wanted. 

Jungkook sighs in frustration, tilting his head back against the headrest. The movement is counterintuitive, exposing the inked canvas of his neck that you’re desperate to paint red and purple. You go in for a bite.

A hand fists your tangled hair, pulling you off with a harsh yank before you have the chance to sink your teeth into his skin. The silver ring on his finger digs into your scalp like a knife. “Do not fucking mark me.”

The feeling of the frigid metal is agonizing. Not physically, his grip loosens immediately after the initial tug, but emotionally. You know why he doesn’t want you to mark him. Any evidence of you, other than your weekly babysitting duties, would unravel his entire life. Jungkook is an intelligent man. You don’t have to tell him that it’s all a facade, and everything’s already been undone. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out frail and shaky. “I just want you.”

And like some cruel joke, his phone rings. 

The contact image would normally make you swoon. It’s a picture of him and his daughter from her first birthday party; her sticky, strawberry ice cream covered, hands holding his cheeks as he stares at her with scrunched eyes and a big smile. You think that picture is the only time you’ve ever seen him genuinely happy.

The bold, white font at the top of the screen, though, makes you sick to your stomach. 

‘Wife.’

Jungkook releases your hair and places a finger over his mouth, signaling for you to shut up, before answering. 

“Yes, Seulgi?”

© chryblossomjjk 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost]

[tiniedemon]

. . .

janitor’s closet

kenny mccormick / reader

you really didn’t want to be in class. you were so sick and tired of your math teacher’s bullshit, and the harassment from all the kids in your class. and based on the fact that you’d gotten into a fight with your mom that morning and you were running off four hours of sleep, you were definitely not going.

so you decided to go to your favorite place in the entire school: the janitors closet. it was a quiet, secluded room in a relatively desolate wing of the school. you spent most of your friday afternoons after lunch posted up in the janitor’s closet, vape or blunt between your lips, a cartoon playing on your phone.

you flung the door open, then locked it behind you, heaving a sigh as your forehead rested against the back of the door. the smell of weed burning invaded your nostrils, a smile creeping onto your tired face, your shoulders losing their tension. weed smoke meant kenny, and kenny meant nap time.

“hey, y/n,” kenny greeted softly, a tired lilt to his voice. you turned on your heel, slumping into the seat beside him. you’d somehow managed to sneak two lounge chairs into the closet, which was really just a large closet with nothing but a desk and a small cabinet of cleaning supplies. it worked out perfectly, in all honesty. the desk was great for an ash tray to sit, and the chairs were incredibly comfortable for thrift store furniture.

“hey, ken,” you hummed, outstretching two fingers as you let your eyes closed. you felt kenny deposit his joint between them, your lungs burning as you took a long hit, followed by another, and another.

“woah, honey. slow your pace a little,” kenny chuckled, swiping the joint very carefully from your hand. you puffed a sigh, followed by a tired chuckle, fingers massaging your temples.

“i appreciate you looking out for me,” you mumbled. kenny was silent for a moment, before sighing and settling himself on the arm of your chair. you looked up at him through your lashes, a weak smile on your face.

“i will always look out for you, y/n,” he spoke softly, a serious hardness to his face that you’d never seen before. his eyes shone with fondness, yet his jaw and body were squared, showing the somber seriousness of his statement. your stomach was alight with butterflies, a flush finding your cheeks, as you avoided eye contact with the blonde lingering beside you. the weed was starting to hit, too, only adding to the anxious fluttering of your stomach.

“can i vent for a second?” you practically whispered, kenny depositing the joint between his lips as he rearranged his body back into his own chair. you chuckled, watching him struggle to angle it to face you, a crease between his pierced eyebrows.

kenny truly was a beautiful man. his blonde hair, shaped haphazardly into an overgrown mullet, hung in his tanned face. his nose was pierced in three places, a stud in one nostril, a black metal hoop in the other, and an elaborate ring hanging from his septum, and his bottom lip held a shimmering vertical labret piece. both of his ears were pierced in multiple places, accented by an industrial bar through the left. he wore black eyeliner in his waterline, his right eyebrow slit and both pierced.

he always wore some sort of black outfit, todays choice being a faded band tee that engulfed his body and a pair of ripped jeans. he wore the same beat up converse he usually did, the sunflower he’d painted on the side beginning to chip with time. a few stick and poke tattoos littered his arms, a professional piece peaking out from his left sleeve.

you were caught staring, cheeks turning red as kenny’s eyes jumped up to meet yours. you glanced back for a split second, long enough to find a giddy smile on his blushing face.

“alright, spill,” he finally said, legs drawn up to hang over the side of his chair, his body angled to face you against the opposite arm. you took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh.

“i got into a fight with my mom this morning. she’s stressed about bills and shit, but it’s not like i’m not helping. i work my ass off after school trying to help out, but it’s like i’m not doing enough because i can’t work during the day. i’m not dropping out of school to take care of her bum ass,” you ranted, pausing, a sigh leaving your lips again. “and i have a thing for this guy, and i can’t tell how he feels about me. like, one minute he’s flirting, and the next i’m just a bro. he’s always taking care of me, helping me out, but i don’t know if he’s doing it because he likes me or because i’m a good friend.”

kenny took a minute to mull over your words, the end of his vape lighting up as he took a long drag from it. he exhaled, a large cloud exiting through his nose, a thoughtful expression on his face. then he spoke, his voice delicate and pensive.

“i can imagine how frustrating the mom situation can be. i’ve been emancipated from my parents for the same reason. maybe you could look into it, and i can offer up my place to you. it’s a shitty place, in all honesty, but it’s home, and the bedroom is huge so we can easily squeeze another bed in there for you. as for the guy, why not be straightforward? maybe he just doesn’t know how you feel about him. guys are pretty fucking stupid.”

“i would do that, except i’m scared. like, what if i read it all wrong from the start and he’s not actually into me? that would be so embarrassing,” responded, words morphing into a groan at the end. kenny chuckled, ashing his joint against the concrete floor.

“sweetheart, i promise, if he’s anything like what you just described to me, he’s not going to embarrass you. just confess to him, and if he doesn’t like you back, come tell me so i can beat his ass,” kenny spoke with a chuckle. you groaned, throwing your head back, hands dragging down your face.

“kenny, you’re so fucking stupid. how are you gonna beat your own ass?” you laughed, then froze completely. you’d accidentally just outed yourself. kenny was silent, the air heavy and tense.

“you’re the fucking stupid one, dude,” kenny finally spoke, a smile evident in his voice. “i’ve been hitting on you for, like, two years now. i was starting to think you just didn’t have brain cells or something.”

you scoffed, lifting up your head to stare daggers at him, a frown on your face. “i don’t have brain cells? kenny, i asked for your fucking number after one conversation. and the first text you sent was ‘hey bro!’ how the fuck am i supposed to take that in a flirty context?”

“that’s nothing compared to when i tried to kiss you at tolkien’s party and you thought i was trying to tell you a secret,” kenny drawled, raising an eyebrow. “or when i tried to hug you after i walked you to class and you thought i was trying to make a secret handshake.”

you flushed, an upset twist to your lips. you really were a fucking dumbass, as you were realizing now. “okay but i told you that i thought you were super hot and you threw up on my shoes. if that’s not disgust then what is it?”

“i was on acid, dumbass, having a bad trip. your face was melting. what the fuck else was i supposed to do, cry? i tried to ask you out that one time and you invited stan. how about that?”

“i would’ve preferred that, actually. and i thought you wanted to hang out with friends. in my defense, you said ‘hang out’ and not ‘date,’ so it’s not my fault. let’s just agree to disagree, we’re both stupid fucks.”

kenny chuckled, a smile on his face, your own mirroring his. he finally extinguished the joint he’d been nursing for fifteen minutes, sinking back into his seat once it was no longer smoking. you admired him from across the room, appreciating the halo of light reflecting in his blonde hair and the loving sparkle in his eyes.

“i’ll agree to disagree if you go on a date with me, no friends invited,” he spoke in return, a goofy smile on his face. you pretended to think it over, butterflies swarming in your stomach, smile so big it hurt your cheeks.

“i’ll go on a date with you if you let me hit your vape. mine died.”

“you’re fucking kidding me, bro.”

“see? this is the shit i’m talking about kenny! are we dating as friends or as people with feelings?”

“i’m literally going to fucking lose it.”

[niki-phoria]

Hiii I love reading your enha reaction! I was wondering if you could do one with heeseung x late night basketball date, pronouns he/him :)

pairing: heeseung x student!male reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 710

includes: established relationship, reader is stressed about school, idk anything about basketball so i skipped over the actual game part lol i hope that's okay

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

feedback is always appreciated <33

your shoulders and back ache; an unfortunate side effect of spending hours hunched over your computer. your fingers momentarily pause your incessant typing when you hear your bedroom door creek open before you return your attention to the incomplete essay on your opened computer screen. 

heeseung lets out a quiet sigh to himself, his eyebrows furrowing slightly at the sight of you. your disheveled hair falls into your tired eyes. your lips remain fixated downwards in a small frown. he can nearly see how much tension you hold in your muscles underneath the thin t-shirt you had stolen from him to sleep in the night before. 

“jagi,” his voice is soft as he carefully approaches from behind you. despite hearing him enter the room, you still jump at his gentle hand placed against your shoulder. heeseung’s frown only deepens at your jumpiness. “come on. it’s been hours. you need to take a break.”

you briefly glance up at him before you turn back to your essay. “i can’t,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “i need to finish this.”

“y/n,” heeseung sighs. he places both of his hands against your shoulders, slowly beginning to gently massage your muscles. you can’t help the way your eyes flutter closed in relief. you find yourself leaning back into his touch, a soft sigh of your own escaping you.

heeseung leans down to press a kiss against the exposed skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. his affection has always flustered you. “there’s a basketball court around the block,” he says as he carefully begins to pull your hands away from your computer. he shuts the device before tugging your chair back far enough away from your desk to stand up. “let’s go play a few rounds.”

“okay,” you nod as you finally relent. heeseung softly smiles, intertwining your hands together as he guides you to your feet to stand up. 

he reaches over, hand ghosting against your waist as he pulls you out of his bedroom. heeseung’s shirt hangs loosely from your shoulders. he quickly shrugs his hoodie off before tugging it over your head. “what?” he teases. “my clothes look nice on you.”

“you always say that.” 

“and i always mean it.” you playfully roll your eyes at him as you tug on a pair of sneakers as heeseung grabs a basketball you’re sure belongs to his brother. “ready?”

you hum as heeseung’s arm finds its familiar home around your waist, the ball tucked perfectly against his side with his other arm. 

a comfortable silence falls between you as you walk in sync out of the apartment building until you reach the desolate namyangju streets. the sun is just about to set, casting the sky in a beautiful golden glow. hues of light pink and purple decorate the sky above you. 

heeseung dribbles the basketball against the cracked concrete sidewalk as you make your way around the block until you reach a small park next to a nearby neighbourhood. A lonely basketball hoop sits at the edge of a concrete slab in a grassy area.

“y/n,” heeseung calls as he passes the ball to you. you catch it easily before tossing it into the hoop above, watching as it passes straight through the net below. 

heeseung smiles as he catches the ball once again, passing it back to you. you can’t help the way your lips quirk into a small smile as he playfully dribbles the ball towards you. “come on, y/n,” he teases. “five points. one game.”

“don’t test your luck hee,” you smile, stepping closer to him. “you know you can’t beat me.”

“we’ll see.”

“yes!” you cheer as the ball falls through the net once again, signaling the end of the game and yet another point for you. heeseung laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close so your back is pressed against his chest. “i told you,” you tease, pushing a strand of his hair back into place. “you never stood a chance.”

heeseung smiles brightly as he playfully shakes his head. you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in to pull him into a sweet kiss. “thank you, hee,” you whisper. “i needed this.”

“anything for you, love.”

[morrow-teller]

KINKMAS: Day 1 | Car Sex

Jim Hopper x Male reader

Contains: MALE READER, NSFW themes, Car sex, Raw sex, Dirty talk, Abuse of power, mentions of P in A

──────. • ☆:*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ• . ──────

You timidly tap at your steering wheel, watching the cruiser slowly pull in behind you through your mirrors. The flashing lights becoming an unwelcome distraction.

Moonlight peered through your car windows, the cotton-material seats glowing with a grey outcast. The cruiser’s headlights dimmed but the red and blue grew brighter, flashing back and forth in the desolate street.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you glare at the white car parked closely behind, the car door slowly opened which shimmered underneath the dim street lights, they hardly gave your eyes support, squinting, you try to make out the taller male who stood cockily, his hands settling on his hips.

Scoffing out of nervousness you listen to each thud of his heavy boots, with each step he grew closer to the car, to you. He stood before harshly knocking at your closed window.

You flinch before looking upwards. It was the county’s Chief, Jim, Jim Hopper. His brows were furrowed, his mouth sat straight, his piercing blue eyes practically ordering you to open the window.

His stare encourages your fingers to skim over the button, the rough screech of the lowering glass which once separated the two of you, now disappearing from view into the void-like line.

He lowered, resting against the open window.

“You know why you got pulled over kid?” His voice, low and husky, you could tell he smoked often, a few between breaks and a few more after work, you could smell it on him as he moved closer.

Tiredness controlled your mood. You shake your head before glancing his way, watching the cop hoop both thumbs into his leather belt, joining the gun that loosely clung to his hip.

“Well…let me remind you, running a red light is a criminal offence”

The words roll from his tongue like honey, smooth yet raspy, you understood but surely running a red light was the least of his worries, right?

A heavy rattled sigh escapes your lips before you dip your head in annoyance. Chief Hopper stood with authority, awaiting for an answer, one that could potentially allow you to slip from any accountability.

“It’s a criminal offence for the lights to stay red when nobody else is around“

Hopper shook his head before stepping back, crossing his arms.

“Sir, Please step out of the car”

His tone had changed from kinder to degrading within seconds, it was filled with anger, hatred? Surely not…

You really couldn’t achieve a criminal record right after graduation, that would permanently fuck up your life, you couldn’t let some lousy cop ruin your reputation.

“Sir all I did was run a red li-“

He began to loom over your door, resting an arm, crossed, on the hood.

The glint in his eyes, it changed, he looked angrier, meaner, the pride in your chest diminished to nothingness, replaced with a lack of feeling, you were fucked.

“I said, step out of the car”

Unfastening your seatbelt, you wiggled out of your seat, turning to the door before slipping two fingers behind the door’s latch, tugging it forwards until you hear the click.

Hopper pulls on the handles, swinging the door forcefully backwards. Both of his hands settle into the collar of your shirt, yanking you out of the warm car.

Using his heel, Hopper slams it shut, now pressing you up against the cold metal of the closed door. You hiss at his strength, his knuckles digging into your collarbones pushing your shoulders back, you kicked but to avail, his grip was much stronger.

You could feel his hot breath fan over your cold cheeks, the breeze sent a chill down your back, goosebumps forming over the skin of your arms. Glancing down into his icy blue eyes you looked for that same angry glint…

It had been replaced by something darker, something sinister.

“Please- stop, let me go you fucker”

The older man grunts before turning your body, pushing you into the metal frame of the car. You couldn’t help but surrender, allowing the cuffs to easily slip around your wrists, the click taking away all of your power to fight back.

He presses into you, securing you against the car. Each movement of your hips draws him in closer, he can himself twitch, it’s been so stressful at the depot lately…he couldn’t could he?

“Hopper…m-maybe we can both gain…something from this?” You hiccup, fighting the tears threatening to stain your cheeks. His mumbles are incoherent but the slight rut of his hips is noticeable, too noticeable.

The angle allows you to feel the outline of his clothed man-hood, something so intimate, it felt wrong which pushed Hopper further, you couldn’t honestly tell what you craved in the moment but it definitely wasn’t a ticket.

He buries his face between the crook of your neck, forgetting his role for a second, he was suppose to protect and punish, not seduce.

“You don’t want this ticket? Work for it” His tone now soft but lust-filled, husky and deep. By pushing back you had enough strength to open one of the back car doors, flopping onto the flat seats stomach first.

Hopper took in the sight, watching you spread your legs eagerly, your hands still bound by the metal. The cool air forced Hopper to push forwards into your car, pushing your body upwards forcing you onto your hands and knees.

Quickly, he slammed the door shut behind him trapping the cold air out but pushing him even further in until he towered over the top of your arched body.

Every single one of your movements enticed the town’s chief, he couldn’t look back, he didn’t want to, the ticket had left his mind the moment you pressed back into him, he slotted perfectly between your open legs.

“Are you sure…you want this?”

A quick tug on his zip was a short but viable answer. You turn back, watching the man above you undress himself, pushing his now open trousers below his knees, his jet black boxers joining, you hear the audible smack his heavy cock creates from slapping up into his pudgy stomach.

It was big, bigger then anything you’ve ever had, it had your stomach churning with want, your mouth watering, your heart skipping beats. The head was red raw, glistening with copious amount of pre-cum. You took note of the thick base, a large vein journeying to the tip on the underside, you were scared.

Hopper took note of your surprise, watching your eyebrows raise in shock, mouth slightly agape, his chest filled with more pride then it would giving out a ticket.

“I’m so fucking sure of it kid”

His hands sink around your waist as he lowers his hips closer to you. His fingers search for your belt clasp before popping the metal, untangling you from your confines. You push down your denim jeans, like Hopper only to your knees, your boxers joining also.

A low growl erupts from Hopper’s chest before he hurriedly pushes forwards, his plump tummy settling in the dip of your back. The tip hovers over your hole securing it’s place between your parted cheeks.

“Hold onto the door’s handle sweetheart, I’m not gonna be gentle”

doing as he ordered, your fingers wrapped around the thick handle. Hopper didn’t care if they were secure, he showed that by pushing into your entrance, the tip being enough.

You cry out in pain, the burn quickly spreading with every inch he pushes into you, the stretch was dangerously sweet but without any prep, the pain also swiftly followed suit.

He held you down by his weight which kept you in place, several profanities slipping from his lips once he manages to stop himself half way, allowing you to accommodate him.

“better then that ticket could ever be-“

He sounded cocky and he had every right to because he was right, it was better then any slip of paper, including the one containing your uncertain future.

nodding softly, your body goes limp and fuzzy underneath his once he starts pushing forwards again, sliding in slowly before bottoming out, his balls pressed snug against your ass.

He pulled back within seconds before pushing forwards roughly drawing a sharp huff. With each piston of his hips, he fucks into you quicker, using the seats to angle himself differently.

“Feels good-“

Using your words as encouragement, he quickens, the tip of his cock brushing up against the bundle of nerves deep within.

“Yeah?”

“P-please fuck m-me sir” you begged Hopper, clenching around his cock already. It had Jim light headed that he had you so accepting and open for his cock, his essence.

Breathing deeply into your ear, he licks at the shell, thrusting into you quicker then before the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the car’s interior.

Hopper’s hips faltered once you began to push back, the pain that once was gone, now replaced with a bliss-like feeling, each drag of his cock on your walls earned him a small whine.

You were so close, every single slick thrust on your prostate had you feeling dirty and used but you still used all the power you had left to meet his hips half way, bouncing away on his cock, chasing after your orgasm.

“Gonna cum?” He mumbled huskily, his lips attacking the skin underneath your ear, his hips slamming into you.

falling limp against his body, clenching your fists, meeting your wits ends, you explode, foiling your car seats. The warmth spread as so did the puddle of cum forming against your stomach.

Releasing a sharp breathy “fuck”, you begin to clench around the foreign invader, practically trapping his cock inside. The sight alone had Hopper collapsing on-top of you, losing his balance before reaching his limit.

“Shit- there you go kid…” he trails off, resting his hips against your ass. With each pump, a small gasp emitted from his heaving chest, load after load painting your walls white, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You both stilled like the tree’s outside, relishing in each-other’s warmth. Hopper was the one to break it up, peeling away from your body like a sticker, his now soft cock slipping out of you, his body sweaty. He managed to belt up his trousers once more, eyes like a hawk, watching the cum trickle out of you.

He smirked at his work. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep him, his fingers looping around the door’s handle, clicking it open, the chilly air already settling on his after-sex glow.

“Listen…no hard feeling’s kid, think about the ticket? You did it for the right reasons”

His words hardly had an effect on you, he still slammed the door shut without waiting for a response, making his way over to his cruiser, scrunching up the ticket he had ready, slotting it in his pocket…for next time.

[spoiledblogif]

Does Mc know how to drive?

They do, yes. This actually comes up in Chapter 3 and what the hell I'll give an excerpt to explain:

“Have you ever been driving and then suddenly find yourself reliving the memory of a mother getting smeared across the pavement because some asshole ran a stop sign while she was out for her evening jog? Because I’m going to guess not.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” R sighs.

You shrug. “It’s not all bad. The accident was originally a hit and run. It was some desolate back road so there weren’t any traffic cameras or witnesses. But I saw the license plate. It took a lot of lying and jumping through hoops, but Carter eventually found the guy."

[strangeoctober]

Hrolfa and the Chimera

There once was a town named Vaerdifell, as cursed as place as there ever was. It’s cattle were sickly and thin, the tools of it’s workers would rust and crack, it’s desolate fields offered only the most meagre crops, and it’s starving children shivered under dripping roofs.

It’s chief, a gilded man surrounded by thanes armed with fine steel weapons, called upon Hrolfa Hrolfsdottir to save the town. “Please, champion,” bid the chief, “My people grow so hungry, so desperate, that I am forced to hang thieves to keep order. I beg of you, slay the source of this curse, the dread chimera Galmothir!”

A hundred champions had come before and found only death. But Hrolfa swore to see the curse ended. She asked only for the chief’s plumpest lamb, his strongest rope, and his first thane’s fine steel axe.

On the next morn the dread chimera Galmothir, swept through the deep, dark woods around Vaerdifell, searching for a meal. When it spotted a plump lamb standing alone in a clearing, it did not hesitate to dive. But a mere moment before it’s jaws closed upon the little creature, Hrolfa dropped suddenly from the treetop, pulling upon a long rope and drawing up a great net to entangle the dread chimera!

Galmothir roared with rage and clawed at the net, but Hrolfa swung back and forth, tying rope and casting hoops with every movement. She bound the dragon head up, such that it’s licking flames caught only air. She tied the goat head’s horns to a thick tree, such that it could not move to smite. She jammed the lion head’s jaws open with a log and bound the snake head closed with a tight knot.

As she stood over Galmothir, keen axe in hand, preparing the killing blow, the great beast bellowed, “You have bested me, Hrolfa Hrolfsdottir, but my death will avail you nought! It is not by my hand that Vaerdifell is cursed, but by avarice and vanity!”

Hrolfa stayed her hand as she saw the truth in the dread chimera’s words. She freed the beast and by dusk she rode upon Galmothir in an assault upon the chief’s hall! They burned the callous thanes and ate the greedy chief whole, golden chains and all! And then, together, they tore the roof from his hall and revealed his hoard of stolen coin to all and sundry!

With that coin, the cattle were fed, the fields were sown, the workers got strong tools, the homes were mended, and the children given warm clothes. Vaerdifell was cursed no longer.

I was invited to write this piece for a friend of mine who has been working on a new LARP character. One of their character traits is that they carry around legends of their ancestor and it sounded like a fun thing to try my hand at!

It was, however, a little challenging as I was working under the constraint that the piece must fit a single A5 sheet for logistical reasons. And as anyone who knows me could tell you, I like my prose purple! But it was a good creative exercise, forcing me to be economical with my words to create a complete, compelling, and condensed tale.

Honestly, I think the succinct style works pretty well for the feel I was going for. A lot of these old folk legends tend to be light on the details and context to allow the storyteller to flesh things out as needed.

[original-character-championship]

Bracket G Round 1

Poll 26

Deafheaven Leppard (@ratsovereignity) vs. Summer Jet (@kung-fu-cutbug)

435. Deafheaven Leppard (@ratsovereignity)

They/them, It/its, He/him, She/her

Singularly iconic, one of the greatest players in Jojo fan part Angel Warp. Slutty, powerful, miserable, BEYOND poker-faced: she's got it all. The facilitator of the pillarman return arc. Possibly funniest bitch alive with a cut-and-dry sense of humour, fondness for riddling talk, willful ignorance, and the peepaw flair.

Many great claims to fame, such as destroying a large hill because of being pissed that its name was changed from Leppard's Tit to Twisted Sister's tit (On and off girlfriend, bound to it by The Curse. Springtime ftw. They don't even like eachother that much), skinning people alive, flooding an entire empire despite being terrified of water, and most importantly being chased by the Wild Hunt to facilitate the passage of seasons from autumn to winter. He always gets out in time for spring, so does it matter (Yes. It does.---lifelong (over 70k years) traaaauma---)? It's thanks to her that the harvest is so good.

Don't you want to vote for a father of um. Siiiiix? Two biologicals despite a LOW birth rate, and five unwanted problemchildren that latched onto him as soon as it made the mistake of crawling out that pillar. Seriously, let her escape that narrative, this really isn't good for her. What's the difference between a room and a stage? - I don't want to be your mother, and all that.

Is also the product of the world's first divorce/why there's salt in the sea/the desolation of the princes. You know when a dissociative mad prince groomed for command since birth wielding the agendas of others as a holy blade (the one once with a name, now referred to only as the earthmover) can nail a foppish peacock/caligula's horse longing for something it had a taste of once and then was rewarded and punished with and bound by the strings of fate voluntarily (muse....) whatever kid shows up is going to be a REAL interesting beast. Especially when said monarch threatens to nuke entire civilisation using hamon-by-proxy and the peacock has to start aeons of stories by drowning the freak. And then the kid has to be put in the fridge for literally two million years. Yeah. You know that thing's going to be a freak.

So much Leppard lore, so little time. Whatever. Vote my little buddy. Angel Warp tumblr (It's real. and mostly dead fictional characters in a purgatorial ARG) will love it.

Leppard is very tall, reaching about eight feet by himself and over ten counting horns. Her horns spiral upwards like a gazelle’s and are covered in bands of metal for decoration. She is physically androgynous and very muscular, and has a coppery complexion, dotted with the occasional darker rosette and stripe. Their hair reaches around their lower legs and is a wavy earthen brown, with a few braided and beaded strands woven in. Their eyes are a luminous orange-amber with black sclera and blackened tearducts, their nose hawkish and hooked with a septum piercing, and their eyebrows enormous, their sharp face having very pronounced cheekbones, which is the cause of um. 'Gator style fucked up mouth extending all the way up to there. They wear a simple linen loincloth, and a mantle-cape (both white with orange accents), worn draped across a shoulder, weighed down by a single pauldron and golden necklaces in triangular shapes mimicking sunrays, these shapes also seen on their facepaint; three triangles, one set on an eyelid, and the other set below the other eye. Additionally, Leppard has coiling tattoos (traitor's brandings, actually) on their arms and legs, sharp claws, fangs and floppy ears covered in hoop earrings.

eeeem oh leppard fandragon here https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/76425579

436. Summer Jet (@kung-fu-cutbug)

she/her

Let's see here... She's 6'7" and fucking jacked, I know Tumblr loves big buff women; she's transfem, trans rights!; she's an absolute badass who has survived multiple near-death experiences so far in the tabletop campaign she was made for; she's a huge My Chemical Romance fan & I created her while riding the high of an MCR hyperfixation, I KNOW Tumblr is all over MCR or at least a significant portion of it is; she's my hottest OC, in my opinion; she's a sassy bitch/mom friend combo who takes no BS and will ride or die for anyone she's close with; and she managed to get together with the great-great-whatever-granddaughter of a powerful lightning deity.

So toss Summer your vote! She'll bring you over to her apartment to jam out and play some games together if you do, and uh... well, she's not going to claim responsibility for any power outages or freak lightning strikes you fall victim to if you don't. :p

[nighmares-art-and-stories]

Their Mind is a World

War is a constant in society. It could never be forgotten or forgone, only lessened, as there would always be disagreements between people and civilizations. To lessen the impacts of a real war between species, all sects of the Galactical Council have designed a series of arenas allow warring species to fight it out without the threat of injury, famine, or disease. These arenas are designed so that they could read the thoughts of a sapient and project them in an equivalent of a holographic VR.

The warrior walked down the hallway, white and blue lights filtered down from the artificial lights on the celling. His claws stabbed mercilessly into the floor, sending a small shock of pain every time he stepped down. The warrior mentally exercised his mental warrior, Talagor. Directing it as the mind character jumped hoops and ran through walls.

The warriors reached a door and used a claw open it when another paw grabbed his, stopping him.

Another member of his species stood there, wearing a protective white robe over its translucent scales. The warrior waved his free hand at the scholar lazily.

“Let go of my hand.”

The scholar looked straight into the warrior’s eyes before flashing them a binding yellow.

“It’s procedure to brief you on who you’re going to fight.”

The warrior flicked an antenna back, before clicking, “I have heard, it’s another pathetic mammal. I’ll be fine.”

The scholar slowly let go of the warrior’s claw before sighing, “Alright, follow me into the mind sphere.”

They walked into the room. It is dark. The scholar then flicked a switch flooding the room with light. It’s a dome shaped structure, large pillars supported a holographic screen, wires and electrodes hung from it like large spiderwebs. Two robotic podiums stood facing each other. The warrior then nodded at the scholar then walked into the larger robotic podium. Cuffs locked round his wrists and feet with a dull click. Almost a heartbeat later, he saw the puny mammal walk into the other podium.

It has a bipedal mode of locomotion with two manipulators. Artificial skin and scales hung off it’s gaunt yet muscular body. Another mammal in a white coat grabbed the wires hanging on the ceiling and pasted them onto the other creature’s head. The scholar that has followed him into the room did the same.

A mechanical voice filled the room, “Initiating holograms. Integrating minds. Integration complete.”

The warrior closed his eyes and sent his mind warrior to the fight.

.o0o.

Talagor opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. It is black, all black with no light to grace the desolate landscape. Talagor summoned a plasma shooter in one hand and a torch in the other and took cautious steps forward. The torch shed a small sliver of light, a small calming comfort in the shifting sea that is its mind.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

An ancient timbre that rumbled in the blackness, a cacophony of man, woman, elder and child that made something in Talagor want to sing with it. That voice spoke with no words, but he has understood it anyway. He cocked his plasma shooter and shot blindly into the blackness

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The musical voice startled him. Talagor spin around, shifting the plasma gun into a handheld cannon, and pointed it at the voice behind him. 

He cracked his eyes open, only for them to fling open in surprise. Power flowed off the being like the waves in a raging ocean. Her steps are light and breezy like the wind have come and made her its vessel. One soft paw held a raging wildfire and the other held a blue ribbon of a river. Plants have wound around her shoulders like green shawl. Her eyes are closed, like she is asleep.

Talagor felt his mouth dry. His mouth coated in sand and chalk. “What do you mean?”

The being smiled, “You won’t want to wake my brothers.” The ancient timbre came back, giving the being’s voice an extra echo.

“Brothers?”

The being’s smile grew wider, sharper. If Talagor could see her eyes, he would wish for a quick death. “Yes, of course, I’m merely a drop in my master’s mind. A powerful drop maybe, but a drop ne’er the less. You do not want to see the rest.”

Talagor felt it, something behind him, something as wild as it is primal. He spun around, throwing his torch as far as he can away. It landed a few claw lengths in front of him. The fire from the torch illuminated a face. The eye of the creature is wild, searching. It bared its teeth at him and growled. After a while of staring, the skin and fur of the creature sloughed off revealing the sickly white skeleton.

 He heard the tsk, tsk, tsk of the being behind him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The being shook its head before she used the fire to chase the darkness away.

The darkness melted away slowly as if it wanted to cling to the landscape for a while longer. When it melted away fully, the world was grey, then colors slowly came in. The sky is a deep blue, almost black, the same color as Talagor’s blood. The ground is pitted with smoking pits. Liquid rocks welled from massive cracks in the earth, setting the red vegetation ablaze. He could see the scorch marks from where he has shot before and from the scorch marks from the torch.

The being opened her eyes, it is almost indescribable. Twin black voids that contain a spark behind them. A wild thing danced around the spark, its teeth flashing. A legion of voices sounded from the being’s mouth, “I have warned you not to look but you did anyway. I have tried to befriend you, but you responded with teeth. I’ll respond with mine.”

The mist behind the being melted away.

A serpent few in the sky, the large sword-like claws slashing the air. Red drops started to fall from the pink clouds in the sky. A pack of wolves pounded past. Talagor raised his gun and shot at them. They shifted into large writhing shadows full of gnashing claws and bright shining teeth.

Laughter sounded behind him. “We may be weak when we are apart but together, we make a flood!”

Talagor turned around in time to see pearly white teeth closing in.

Then,

Nothing.

Taglist:

@alaralee

[peterpijls1965]

14 februari 2017  

Een mooie dag om te sterven

Het ruikt naar lente. Het is nog geen 10.00 uur ’s ochtends en de zon straalt mijn kamer binnen. Allemaal gratis energie die op lichtsnelheid wordt bezorgd.

Mijn amputatiestompen doen zowaar geen pijn. Het leven lijkt wat minder uitdagend nu buiten alles straalt en schijnt. Dat ik me zo kosjer voel is niet verwonderlijk. Zonlicht heeft een pijnstillend effect, en is bevorderlijk voor de stemming.

Gisteren zag ik op straat het eerste rokje al, hoewel met maillots eronder. Ik zag het als een omen voor de naderende lente. En dan te bedenken dat het morgen tot 15 graden wordt in Limburg.

Toen ik vanochtend om 5 uur ontwaakte en met m’n rolstoel even over het terras karde, voelde ik al dat een mooie dag ging worden. Een dag vol hoop en optimisme. En misschien wel een mooie dag om te sterven. Over dat laatste kan ik vanavond pas meer zeggen. Of niet meer natuurlijk.

Net was ik even in de tuin van mijn beschermde woonvorm. Er lagen treurige sneeuwresten te smelten, alsmede het residu van een sneeuwpop, met een desolate wortel in het hoofd.

Kauwtjes zaten elkaar uit te schelden om een paar broodkorsten. Die vogels worden iedere ochtend gevoerd door een huisgenoot die in Sint Franciscus gelooft.

Eén van die kauwtjes zou ik best tam willen maken. Je kunt ze een beetje leren praten, als een papegaai. Ik zou met dat kauwtje een gesprek willen voeren over leven en dood. En samen bepalen wanneer het de mooiste dag is om te sterven.

[solaris-owl]

Was thinking about this a lot! Specifically about traveling puppet. Not purposed ones but self-modified ones.

I had thought a lot about how disconnect would go. These are all headcanons.

First of all iterator puppets could only disconnect when administrator approved the action.

Second, iterator puppets have lived in zero gravity for all their life-it will take a heck of exercise for them to get used to normal gravity, think of those humans in Wall-E.

Third, completely agree with other people on there’s also a lot of ‘bio’ stuff in puppets. Some of the cables must be providing glucose water while others get waste out. I originally thought the arm (different thing from umbilical cables) might just be for support, but maybe there are extra wires inside that provide nutrients to the puppet in emergency, maybe that’s why Moon never tried to remove her arm despite umbilical cords broken...? 

(edit: I change my mind about puppet arm/crane arm, it's just a little car with wheels on the other end, no way it provides any nutrients.)

(Though another headcanon I got from other people is that neurons provide puppet energy, that and a small rarefaction battery inside the puppets, however those are hardly enough, just to keep puppets from brain dead.)

Those are the hoops my oc have to jump through to actually go outside.

For the oc stuff (this is from my mock campaign)

My oc, Three Legged Owl modified their puppet enough to go outside. (And to consume food so they won’t end up in constant starvation mode.)

They’d be pretty repulsed by the idea of using another’s puppet as their own, having half of their name belong to someone scrapped and to live up to was already bad enough.

They’d wander into the desolated streets that were closer toward their chamber, but were too scared to go into deeper places where a lot of predators roam, for example their admin’s home.

Owl would be too scared to go down from their can, luckily, one of their earliest dream and subsequent research will come in handy to bring them to other’s can.

It’s time to live up to their namesake.

Okay, but isn’t it fucked up that the ancients made puppets for iterators?

There’s some oc ideas bulleted for you guys ;)

Iterators are more that their puppets, they are their cans. However as we see in the game, as Moon and Pebbles deteriorate, one of the few connections they can maintain is with their puppets.

The ancients essentially gave godlike supercomputers a form to project themselves onto, to help them form their own sense of identity.

What were their motivations for this? To create a recognizable “mascot” for ancients in the city? Considering the existence of advertisements in pebble’s city, the iterators could have been used on the face of advertisements.

But really, there is no technological reason to have given them puppets. Yet in doing so they have a proper “body.” We as humans attach a lot of our identity to our physical form, which is why we have dysphoria or dysmorphia if there is a disconnect.

So is it a blessing or a curse that iterators were given a form to project themselves onto, allowing them to more easily explore their sense of self?

It seems cruel that ancients crafted these puppets to be tethered to a chamber, a chamber hidden deep within their superstructures away from the world outside. So while they do have a body to project themselves onto, they can’t commune face to face with the outside world.

These iterators develop whole ass personalities while being reduced to their computations for eternity. They aren’t truly allowed to to be living yet have the capacity to form meaningful relationships. What were the ancients thinking??That’s some insane torment.

I want to see iterator puppets explored more. Like:

Why did the ancients create puppets?

Were iterators able to make requests to alter their puppets?

How is an iterator’s sense of self affected if they were never given a puppet to project onto?

Were newer iterators sometimes given the puppets of older (maybe discontinued) iterators? And did they consequently feel their identity tied to that iterator?

What are the iterators opinions of having puppets?

Do some iterators not use their puppets because they don’t see the point?

I’ve also seen some cool ocs where iterator puppets are designed to leave their cans! So for those with this type of oc:

What are other iterators’ opinions about this. Do they feel envy?

How strong are these iterators’ connection to their can? And are they much more “themselves” since they are given the opportunity to roam and create new experiences?

Do they visit other iterators, and if so do they visit the can or their puppets?

Do they collect scraps on their travels to modify their appearance? Do they run similar errands for other iterators?

Do these iterators ever choose to wander the empty cities atop their cans, now devoid of ancients? (angst angst angst)

Were their puppets always mobile? If so, how were their interactions with the ancients while they were alive?

And that’s all for now! I’d love to see if anyone has more ideas to spitball.

[kirikiri1]

Hoop for Episode 145 - Infectious Doubt, for @glowclouds_ who kindly donated to the Palestine Children Relief Fund. Thank you!!

"Of course, what I thought was a banishment ritual turned out not to be. The circle I constructed was more of a – (exhale) – an invitation.

It let the Mother of Puppets bind me to Agnes, interweave our existences at some… metaphysical level, as it had with Fielding and the house.

It was the most painful experience of my life. I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing to you, but I’ve never had my lungs try to burn me alive from the inside out before.

I survived, though. And you know the rest. I’m not sure exactly how it manifested on your end. You certainly seemed to get the message.

I kept the circle, over the years, laced it through with signs and symbology of the Desolation to ward off the worst of the side effects, and keep its attentions elsewhere."

Both gone to soon.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Guys, I checked this bullshit fucking centrelink thing, and what has happened was basically:

Person A works 4 weeks and gets a total of $220 - $20 goes in tax. 

This is reported, and goes on their record; that’s fine.

Person A also works another 4 weeks later in the year, in a different job for the same employer. They get $440 this time - $40 goes in tax.

So all up, in that financial year, you would say they made $660 in total; but $600 in net.

Now centrelink, a system with its head right on up inside its’ own rectum... goes, “Hold on, you were CLEARLY being paid from Start date 1, to End date 2!”

Person A goes, “Whut???”

“Centrelink’s robodebt system goes, “Well actually, we need to take that amount you earned and divide it by all those weeks between...” (or, apparently, just assume you made That Amount each week)

Let’s say it was ten months apart.

Centrelink says, “Hold up, that’s 40 weeks of work, or 20 fortnights! You must have received about, huh, like $220 per fortnight?” (or maybe it assumes you made $16.50 a week, even when you didn’t)

So basically, it totals this up, and measures it against the amounts you reported during that period. IT says, “Wait a sec, you said you earned NOTHING in these fortnights! That’s LYING!”

It’s not. You didn’t earn anything in that time period, it just made an assumption. 

So now it starts working out the mount you owe. If centrelink gave you $20 because you said you had no income that fortnight, (which you didn’t), it starts to think... “Well now, because you lied, you owe that $16.50 from each week BACK”.

Even if you were entitled to that amount, it now thinks you need to give it all back.

Some people are getting waaaaaaaay worse debts.

Person B might be being slapped with thousands in debt for daring to have a disability and need a pension, but the system assumes that you’re shady.

Person C died, but their family i being bothered for tens of thousands of dollars in debt...

Person D is a new parent with Tax A and B thresholds allowing for finanacial assistance, and for some reason they are getting hit with a robodebt because ???

They just programmed something in the same slapdash manner as they run the system, and set it loose; why did they think that was going to go well??????

[dailyadventureprompts]

Settlement: Nisk Under-the-Wing

Ok, Sure its a sodden, swampy valley, but you have to admit can’t beat the view

Setup: Existing for decades as little more than a desolate peat farming settlement on the edge of a bog, Nisk became the staging ground for the last stand by a group of heroes against an ancient dragon, who saved the kingdom by working a great act of magic and petrifying the wyrm in the middle of its pre-rampage monolog. Decades and innumerable tourists later, Nisk has become a major artery of trade for the kingdom, as well as a place for younger adventures to come and learn from the legacy of their forebearers. 

Adventure Hooks: 

Defeating an ancient dragon will make anyone’s reputation, but the wizard Everett Paliisar who worked the petrification  magic has made it into an identity, opening a renowned magical workshop and taking the stone dragon as its sigil. The only problem is that even decades after his triumph,  Paliisar has NO idea how he managed his magical miracle, and into his old age has barely managed to stave off questions and requests to repeat his great trick.  When the party comes looking for some tutoring or help with their own problem in need of petrification,  expect Paliisar to make them jump through innumerable hoops in hopes of dissuading them.

In addition to the swampy waterways, Nisk is surrounded by ancient rainforest that once provided shelter and hunting grounds to the dragon. The forest also contains the ruins of a nameless kingdom, lost in ages past to some unknown catastrophe. Notoriously haunted by monsters and spirits so old that their identities have worn away, these vine choked structures have a siren song that have called to adventurers for generations.

During their adventures in the region, the party obtains a coded treasure map that once deciphered guides them to climb the cliffs behind Nisp, make their way out onto the dragon’s head, and rappel down into its mouth. Apparently some daring group of thieves had been using the cave that’d formed from the dragon’s gullet and foremost stomach to store their ill gotten gain. What happened to these thieves, and and what they left behind to guard their treasure is a story for another time, but the party will need to watch themselves regardless. The elemental energies of the petrified dragon have begun to manifest as spiny crystalline growths, which can have unpredictable effects if exposed to magic or stabbed into a clumsy adventurer’s flesh.

Those eager to make a name for themselves are often drawn to Zillo’s, a rougher establishment on the edge of the settlement where hot-blooded brawlers can compete in an arena for prizes and the chance to be scouted by attending nobles and freecompany recruiters. Every fortnight there’s a special bout where would-be champions are matched against one of the hobbled drakes kept beneath the arenas foundations, a cruel and unpredictable tradition that lets those desperate enough for fame claim to be dragonslayers like Nisk’s first defenders. Zillo’s management is known to pay top price for drake eggs or hatchings, and does a tidy trade in dragonflesh on the side.