#and Ben took the vast majority of it

[cold--carnage]

it's actually really sad. because today was supposed to be Seb and Ben's 1 year anniversary. but they had to put Ben in that fuckin' tube (it's a source thing. he gets put to sleep and put away in this big tube thing) after his psychotic episode. and poor Seb's been sitting next to it all day. talking to him and pretending they're having a conversation. it's just really sad. I really wish things had worked out better for those two

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

The Jacobs Family is Jewish full stop.

This is not a headcanon.

Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, the authors of the original newsies script Hard Promises, were very intentional in the naming of their characters. Many, if not all, of the newsie characters they created were named after or inspired by real newsboys from the 1899 strike. The entire project was heavily researched.

"I am a history buff and I also don’t trust secondary sources. After we decided to work on it (Newsies); it came from a single small paragraph in the New York Times we then started checking primary sources." -Noni White [source]

So when the Jacobs family was created, you better believe that their names were meant to be read as Jewish.

The Jacobs surname is Jewish.

"The Hebrew Yaakov and the Biblical Jacob are the sources for the surname Jacobs and its variants.  The Jewish surnames from Yaakov include Yakov, Jacob, Jacoby and Jacobowitz, as well as Jacobs."[source]

David, Sarah, and Esther are likewise all names that are Hebrew in origin. They are also the names of important figures in the Bible or Tanakh.

"The name Mayer is a Jewish Ashkenazic name that was originally derived from the Yiddish male given name Meyer. This personal name was in turn derived from the Hebrew name Meir, which means enlightener." [source]

I could not find anything for Les, likely because 'Les' is a shorted version of his real name.

The Jacobs family is further confirmed to be Jewish in the Newsies novelization:

page 11 of the Newsies novel by Jonathan Fast

The original Hard Promises script adds further confirmation. In the original scene where David buys his papers, Weasel calls David a Jewish racial slur. Later on, as David, Jack, and Les go back to the Jacobses, the script indicates that the Jacobs family lives off of Baker Street (possibly misspelt Baxter Street) in "Jewtown":

Hard Promises (Original Newsies Story)

Additionally, David Moscow (1992 David Jacobs) has a Jewish father [source] and both of Ben Fankhauser's (OBC Davey) parents are Jewish. [source]

The Jacobs family is and always has been Jewish.

On a related note, Esther Jacobs is confirmed to be Polish. This makes the Jacobs children canonically at least half-polish.

Hard Promises (Original Newsies Story)

In researching this, I also found that, In addition to the name Mayer being an Ashkenazic Jewish name, the surname Jacobs "was often given to Jewish people as a surname in Ashkenazi Jewish communities." [source]

Therefore, I think it's safe to say that Mayer Jacobs (and the Jacobs family by extension) is Ashkenazi Jewish in heritage.

Mayer being Ashkenazi Jewish also makes it likely that he too is Polish, as a vast majority of Ashkenazi Jews immigrated to Poland from Germany in the Medieval period. [source]

This would then make the Jacobs some of 2.5 million Ashkenazi Jews who came to the United States from from the Russian Empire (which at the time included Poland), the Kingdom of Romania, and Austria-Hungary between 1880 and 1924 and took up residence on the Lower East Side in Manhattan. [source]

The Jacobs are Jewish.

(If there was ever any doubt.)

___

inspired by this post

[bunnytalksf1]

This is not about swearing, this is about sanitised sport

One of the biggest stories coming out of Singapore this year was that, on the Thursday, FIA President Ben Sulayem made comments about the drivers swearing and said "we are not rappers", which Lewis Hamilton then rightfully pointed out that in that language there was an element of racism.

Whilst it was widely understood to be about language used on team radios during races, the immediate follow-up to these comments was a reprimand for Max Verstappen following a comment in a Thursday press conference where he referred to his car as "fucked".

To me, this felt like a kneejerk reaction and making an example of Verstappen to cement that they weren't joking about the earlier comments of swearing. The reprimand itself isn't a new one: Verstappen has had to do "community service" before, for the fight with Ocon, but a lot of fans simply don't remember it. It was definitely more deserved in that scenario, given F1 doesn't want to let its athletes fight each other after collisions on track.

Everything that followed was the interesting part.

Verstappen, upon qualifying in P2, proceeded to boycott the press conference. He only gave one or two word answers the whole time, and in a show of solidarity with the actual press, he answered their questions outside of the press room and the TV pen, in the middle of the paddock.

A lot of the commentary I've seen on this is just it's funny. Which it is, but its also a legitimate form of protest against an unreasonable reprimand, whilst not harming the other people who work within the sport itself as a consequence. It shows a level of awareness from Verstappen/RBR that the reporters and journalists rely on his comments for their articles, and that their fight is not with them, but with the FIA. It's targeted, and in my opinion, pretty brilliant.

But this isn't about Verstappen.

Collectively, we forget that professional athletes are working class, regardless of the tax bracket that they occupy. Even though Verstappen is rich enough and has enough security in his position in the sport to quit without looking back, a lot of other drivers aren't as lucky. In recent history, we only have to look to Sargeant, replaced mid-season, and now to Ricciardo. The drivers' union, the GPDA (Grand Prix Drivers' Association), is so, so important not only for safety, but for athletes' quality of life within the sport.

The FIA sets the boundaries. To the sport in general, the drivers are what sells, what makes running it commercially viable. They generate the vast majority of the sport's income, whether through the actual act of their driving or through interacting with fans and the media. As far as Liberty Media and the FIA are concerned, the drivers are the profitable commodity that keeps the sport running, except they're not a product. They're people. The FIA, particularly in recent years, has sought greater and greater control over its athletes, what they say and what they do, the interactions they have, and because of social media, often what they do in their private lives.

This is particularly prevalent in regards to political statements, which are now banned altogether during a race weekend, but only for drivers themselves, since McLaren, with no consequence, was allowed to invite an active political candidate into their garage during the 2024 Miami GP.

The bans on political statements came after a few instances in 2020/21 where drivers took the knee and and wore shirts with messages in support of equality. This was, to my knowledge, lead and organised by Lewis Hamilton.

A lot of people want sport and politics seperated. This is not possible. Sport is and always will be political by its existence. Athletes in general, not just in F1 or motorsport, have very little stablity in their positions, their contracts and in their sport. It is not a career that they can keep all their lives. In particular, in motorsport, the drivers rely on their teams for the ability to perform and do their jobs. They often don't keep their own trophies, and have to have replicas made when they win races.

Their identities, and their words in press conferences, have become a commodity to the sport. It drives income. But in this instance, the drivers in general have the ability to push back against the clamp down on expression by boycotting and not giving the FIA the control over what they say, whilst withholding income and revenue from them, too.

Whilst the GPDA is mainly focussed on safety, as the FIA tries to clamp down on and control the drivers, Verstappen's boycott is a brilliant act of protest, and I hope the other athletes follow suit, as this is about preserving the ability to maintain an individual identity within their sport and what is effectively their workplace.

Because for now its swearing, but it demonstrates a dangerous precedence about how much the FIA is allowed to reprimand or fine drivers for simply saying things they don't like, including criticism of the governing body, which is vital to give these athletes agency.

[coochiequeens]

Stating biological facts is not hate

By Genevieve Gluck. December 8, 2023

A Hobart City Council member is under investigation by the Anti-Discrimination Commissioner for “inciting hatred” after declaring “trans women are men.” Louise Elliot is now facing a costly formal inquiry by the Tasmanian Civil and Administrative Tribunal in a case which has the potential to restrict freedom of speech. If the tribunal rules against Elliot, she may be ordered to publicly apologize and pay a fine of up to $4,000.

In March, Elliot attended a Let Women Speak demonstration organized by Standing for Women and led by British women’s rights campaigner Kellie Jay-Keen. The event was intended to provide women with a platform to express their concerns or criticisms of gender ideology.

As part of a prepared speech she gave during the event, Elliot stated that it was impossible to change sex, that “trans women are trans women and remain biological men.”

During her speech, Elliot also highlighted how gender ideology poses safeguarding risks, noting how such policies impact women and girls.

“While the majority of men are decent, kind and caring people, men present an inherent danger to women. The vast majority of sex offenders and violence perpetrators are men. It is completely understandable that women would want spaces for females only, especially vulnerable spaces like changerooms, toilets, and showers. It is absolute insanity that we have a law that allows a man to at 10am declare he’s a woman and by 11am be sharing changerooms and showers with young girls.”

On May 5, Elliot received a letter from the Tasmanian Anti-Discrimination Commissioner (ADC) informing her that they had received a complaint about her statements and had opened an investigation into her activities for “inciting hatred” under the Tasmanian Anti-Discrimination Act.

The complainant, who cannot be named during the ongoing investigation, also took issue with a statement made by Elliot in the context of male violence and the defense of women-only spaces, wherein she stated, “You cannot be raped with a penis if there is no penis present.”

In November, Tasmanian ADC Sarah Bolt ruled that Elliot’s case would proceed to a tribunal inquiry. In response, Elliot has been vocal about her situation on X (formerly Twitter), and has promised to appeal her case to the High Court should she be found guilty of inciting hatred.

“If it is found that I have incited hatred with these accurate, factual, accurate, and true statements, then I won’t be standing for that. And I know that the majority of Australians don’t believe the truth can be hate. So we will absolutely be taking it all the way to the High Court, because this is a massive overreach on our implied right to freedom of belief, freedom of expression, political communication, and we need to defend that,” Elliot told Ben Fordham Live.

Elliot also noted that the legal attack against her is being funded by taxpayers. “The threshold for inciting hatred needs to be really high. It can’t be just because someone is offended. What really gets me is that it’s our taxpayer money that is funding this attack on freedom of speech.”

However, Elliot is expected to pay her legal fees out of her own pocket, and is crowdfunding to cover costs. In the event of a ruling against her and an appeal to the High Court, Elliot has said she estimates the process to cost $100,000.

In addition to the litigation, Elliot says she’s also been experiencing harassment from her colleagues for criticizing gender identity ideology. In a video she shared to X in October, Elliot described how she had been singled out for her views.

“Over the past several months, I’ve been copping some pretty heavy bullying by some of the Hobart City Councllors, and collectively as a council. You hear the Hobart City Council talking a lot about inclusion, diversity, and being welcoming and kind… But inclusion is welcomed if you agree with their thinking. If you don’t agree, then you are heavily excluded and targeted and bullied,” she said.

Elliot went on to explain that she does not believe that humans can change sex, and that women and girls are entitled to single-sex spaces and sports.

During one meeting, the Deputy Lord Mayor Councilor Helen Burnet put forward a motion that the council write to three different organizations to complain about Elliot. The councilors wrote to the Integrity Commission, the Anti-Discrimination Commission, and local government officials to request action be taken against Elliot over a series of posts she made on X.

“We had a training session from a local organization, and I questioned some of the details that were in their fact sheet. Some of the details I found quite concerning, for example, statements that, ‘Trans women are not dominating women’s sport.’ I disagreed with that and tweeted some pictures of trans women playing in women’s soccer, and it’s happening globally,” Elliot said.

“In the fact sheet we had, they also tried to say that because black women are women, trans women are women. And I found that really quite a disturbing statement, quite racist and far from the truth.”

The fact sheet presented during the diversity training session, run in September by Working It Out Tasmania, also argued that trans-identified males do not pose a risk in female-only spaces.

“There is very little evidence of women’s spaces being secretly infiltrated by people with criminal motives, eg, sexual assault. Nearly every story that has emerged in the media or research regarding this has been disproven or discredited,” the document stated.

Elliot further revealed that she had been sent a letter by Deputy Lord Mayor Councillor Helen Burnet chastising her for her views.

“You have consistently spoken out against transgender people and have on the public record refuted that transgender women are women,” the letter read. At Burnet’s request the city council asked the Anti-Discrimination Commissioner to consider that Elliot had, in their view, breached the Anti-Discrimination Act of 1998, which was amended in 2019 to include the subjective category of gender identity, but does not presently provide legal protections on the basis of biological sex.

Elliot has said she has received a flood of supportive messages from constituents. In September, a small demonstration was held outside of Hobart City Council Town Hall, wherein protesters called on the Deputy Mayor to “call off the witch hunt” against Elliot.

[eisforeidolon]

Question: I wanted to ask you about emotional scenes. When you were filming Supernatural, you said that initially you had to think of something that made you sad and then once you keyed into Dean, and Dean became you and you became Dean, it was easier to act his feelings because they were your feelings. So when you took on Beau Arlen, that you haven't done for fifteen years, or even a year, and Ben, Soldier Boy, how did you - did you go back to basics and start thinking again about sad moments in your life to help the scene or were you able to key in a lot quicker this time because you're more experienced?

Jensen: Hmm, that's a really good question. Yeah, very perceptive in the fact that I didn't have all of those years with those characters, but there were emotional scenes - much, I would say there was probably more of an emotional, humanistical emotions - [Jensen gets distracted by a commotion in the audience] All right, calm down. Okay, thank you, where's the prayer bowl, let's - I'll, get, there's a story that they're all referencing right now that I told in the Meet & Greet. Yep, see, this is ... great. Okay, I'll get to that in a second. Siddown! I didn't have that history with the characters so I did kind of have to dig into personal feelings. I'll speak about Beau first, cause I'm actually trying to think of what would the emotional scene with Soldier Boy, and I don't know - I don't know that there was one?

Question: There is.

Jensen: Which one?

Question: The one where he's with Butcher and is telling the story about his father -

Jensen: Oh! About his father, sure.

Question: That broke my heart, so.

Jensen: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, I have an interesting, that actually, now that you bring that up - 'cause see, these things [sigh]. This is the thing about being an actor is my long term memory has been shoved aside a little bit to make room for the short term memory of memorizing lines? So I have intense, there's an intensity in the short term memorization that I have in bringing that to life, and then once I do that, I kinda just ... purge it, and like, let it go. And I don't know, I'm sure there's a psychologist in here that could analyze that and tell me why I do that, I don't know why I do that, but I do it. So we'll go back to, we'll go to Beau first, and I'm guessing you're talking about the scenes when he's talking about his daughter?

Question: Yeah, or also when he's interrogating Avery, and you see the change from sort of like anger and resentment - it's not an emotional scene in the sense that he's crying, but it's really really intense.

Jensen: Right. So that all stems from my - basically I dive into what would I do as a father in this situation. And then how can I relate that to this character. And so I take what I think I know and how I think I would react and then I put that into this character's hands and kinda just tailor it a little bit, and then that's what you see. So even with Dean, you know, the vast majority of Dean? Is me. I just tailored it to tell the story through this character's eyes, but I wasn't trained professionally, I didn't go to school for this, I didn't learn methods, I didn't learn how to separate myself from the character. I basically find what relates to me as a person, within the story, within the character, I extrapolate on that and then I apply it to the character. Same thing really with Soldier Boy. In fact, what I was getting to is that scene, I thought a little bit about - because I have a good relationship with my father - so I had to dive a little bit into something that I was familiar with that maybe didn't, and that was Dean. So I kind of dived into a little bit of Dean and John relationship, even though Dean loves his father and idolized his father for many many years, but there - it was a strained relationship. And at the end of the day, I just pretended. [laughs] 'Cause that's essentially what acting is, you try to find the most honest emotion that you can muster up within yourself, you try to identify that, you try to portray that within this character in order to tell the story. And it's - some people can do it and some people can't. It's like some people can ... write amazingly, some people can do math amazingly, some people can sing, some people can create - paint. I can't paint, I can't draw worth a lick. I mean, I'm lucky to get a stick figure that looks remotely well. But there are some people that just see it and can - and I just, for some reason - you guys seen that movie Good Will Hunting? When he talks about how he can math? He's like, Beethoven could just see the piano and he could play. And I'm not saying that I'm Beethoven as far as acting goes, by any means. But I can play. And so I try to play as much as I possibly can, and that's using what I have in my life, using what I think would be the right emotion, and then I just expand on that.

Question: Ben is just a little boy searching for his father's approval. At the end of the day, which is kind of what Dean was -

Jensen: 100%. Absolutely. So I was able - I'm like, hmm, am I getting typecasted here? Is this? But no, you're absolutely right and so there was some, there was a core relation there between Dean and Soldier Boy and that's why I thought it was such a fantastic plot twist when Soldier Boy was, like, given this opportunity to have a son and a grandson and change that. But then he reverts to his DNA and becomes what he always hated -

Question: What his father was.

Jensen: What his father was, yeah. And that's just great writing, but it's also really fun to take that character on that journey. And then it's just, you know, it's just pretending. It's painting with a paintbrush that I know how to paint with.

[skullhub]

MUSE PROFILE: Rook Blonko

Name: Rook Blonko

Age: 19

Pronouns: He/Him

Height: 6'2"

General Alignment: Lawful Good

General personality: Stoic, Stickler for the rules, Blunt, Extremely formal, Open-minded, Culturally behind.

Family: Rook Da (Father), Rook Bralla (Mother), Rook Shar (Younger sister), Rook Shim (Younger sister), Rook Shi (Younger sister), Rook Ben (Younger brother)

Home: Revonnah (Former home), Plumber's headquarters (Current home)

Backstory: Rook Blonko had grown up on his home planet of Revonnah where in between working on his parent's farm he studied the fighting-art of Revonnah Kai, having studied it for years with one of the masters before he set off to join the plumbers academy. He took his studies very seriously while the academy was still in tact, and despite having had his nose in the books most of the time (including during his off-time), Rook did manage to make a couple of friends who he developed new fighting-techniques with. At some point in the middle of his final semester of the Plumber's academy, the Vreedle brothers had blown up the school leading to Rook having to take his final exam inside a trailer stationed on a stray asteroid. Despite how bent out of shape Rook was about the whole incident, the Revonnahgander managed to pass his final exam with flying colors. Making him qualified enough to be sent off on off-world assignments, his first major assignment given to him being Magister Max's own grandkid; Ben Tennyson.

He has accompanied Ben throughout his adventures while also doing odd jobs in between keeping an eye on his new partner. Always making sure that he never forgot his primary objective of aiding in the protection of the earth and the milky way galaxy.

Extra Info: Rook still holds a grudge against the Vreedle brothers after they blew up the plumber academy, he most likely will not get over this grudge in the foreseeable future.

Rook possesses a vast mental library of scientific and technological knowledge from across the galaxies, along with a little magic knowledge (granted he doesn't know that much about magic as he does the mechanics of certain alien technologies.)

Blonko is excellent at mechanical engineer and has frequently modified his own technology to work better for his fighting style, able to create machinery on the fly when given the right tools/parts.

Rook is really good at soccer and he used to play it back at the Plumbers Academy, it soon became his favorite sport after a long time of playing the game with others.

Rook has a multitude of drivers licenses which are all for being legally able to drive across certain planets/galaxies. (It took him longer to get his earth driver's license than the rest of his licenses.)

Rook's usual choices of food are very healthy (due to him needing to keep in shape for his job), however he will occasionally get himself a meatball sub as a treat.

Rook cannot use contractions as it is considered rude and uncouth in Revonnahgander culture. (If I ever forget this detail, please correct me.)

[elizabethnightingale4]

Tweek Tweak hadn’t wanted to move away, but what pull did a fourth grader have? It was so abrupt that he’d barely had time to tell his friends and partner that they were leaving. Craig, for his part, did not take it well. Sure, the two of them had practically Ben forced into a relationship. They had grown inseparable, though. Often staying at one another’s homes to watch Red Racer or space documentaries. Obviously, it was hard for both of the boys, but Craig took it harder.

He got his parents to get him a new number. Deleted his Coonstagram, the whole nine yards. He didn’t really know how to deal with the pain, so he refused to acknowledge it. Meanwhile, Tweek, who had thought they would stay together even if he moved, was thrown into the vast world all alone. Sure, he got the occasional text from his old friends, but as the years pat the texts were fewer and fewer, until eventually they stopped.

Craig never dated again, in fact, he spoke even less than he had before. He refused to watch Red Racer and he threw a tantrum because of the space theme of his room one day. He tore it to pieces. His mother had found him in a heap on the floor of his room; he had cried himself to sleep.

Tweek went on a few dates in middle school, but mostly romantic potential was squashed by his fidgeting and ticks. Sometimes, though, when he was feeling particularly lonely, he’d put on Red Racer reruns and fall asleep curled around a pillow.

Both boys felt as if they had lost something major, but as the years went on, the pain numbed. They never saw each other so it faded into a childhood memory. That was until Tweek’s 17th birthday. Just as suddenly and unexpectedly as when he was a kid, his parents decided it was time to move back to South Park.

Tweek sighed, the last day of packing. He wipes his hands on his cargo pants and readjusts his ponytail. Looking around his room is really strange. He didn’t feel as if he were leaving home. It felt more like returning home after a long vacation. He wondered if his friends would recognize him anymore. His thought’s wandered to a certain dark haired boy and Tweek shakes his head.

“Enough of that.” He scolds himself, “it was just a school yard crush.” He sighs and picks up a few boxes, carrying them down to the moving van. His parents had somehow managed to get their old house back. Not only that, the coffee shop had been running smoothly since they left so they had a steady income.

“Tweek, isn’t it great to go back to our small little mountain town after all this time?” Mrs Tweak asked.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to stop moving all the time.” Tweek admits, tapping his hand against a box.

“Aren’t you excited to see your friends? Mr Tweak asks.

The same boy strays back to the forefront of Tweaks mind. Was he excited to see his friends? He wasn’t really sure he could call them friends anymore.

“Of course he is!” His mother answers for him.

Tweek strains his hand to keep himself from twitching too badly. “I don’t think they’re really my friends anymore, ma.” He replies after a count of five.

“You’ll be fine, Tweek.” Mr Tweak replies, clearly blowing off Tweek’s answer.

“Gah!”

“Craig, did-ya-hear?” Butters asks, hoping on the balls of his feet. Craig turns to glare at him and Butters takes that as permission to continue. “Tweek Tweak is moving back to South Park!”

Craig’s eyes widen ever so slightly and he inclines his head a bit.

“It’s true!” Butters continues, “he should be back tomorrow afternoon!”

“How do you know that?” Clyde asks, siting on the edge of the lunch table.

Tolkien holds out his cellphone, “it’s Al over the tabloids.”

~~~

Infamous Tweak Bros coffee tycoon, abandons city under drug allegations!

~~~

“So th-th-theh-they are running b-b-back to South P-p-pah-p-park?” Jimmy asks.

Token shrugs, “I guess so.” Craig snatches Tolkiens phone from his hand and scrolls down to the image attached to the article.

There in black&white was a picture of Mr&Mrs Tweak and their only son. Even in this fancy journalist snapshot, Tweek’s shirt wasn’t buttoned properly. Craig stared at the image for a while before handing the phone back to Token and getting up.

“Where are you going, buddy?” Butters asks, but Craig is already walking briskly away.

The others watch him go before Jimmy asks, “You th-th-think he’s still hung up on Tweek?”

Tolkien rolls his eyes.

“It’s been eight years , no way he’s hung up on Tweek Tweak still.” Clyde argues.

“Are you serious?” Token scoffs, “the man went catatonic the day they left.”

“It was eight years ago.” Clyde reiterates.

Craig leaned against the sink as he splashed water onto his face. Tweek Tweak, it was a name that he tried not to think about. Something had changed when Tweek left and it wasn’t a good change. He lifts his head to look in the mirror. Water drips down his face, soaking into the collar of his worn out tee-shirt. “Tweek.” Craig says softly, testing out the name again. Would Tweek forgive him? Craig hadn’t ever been able to try to contact Tweek after ghosting him. Craig was just too afraid. He groans and flips himself off in the mirror.

Tweek hadn’t expected anyone to remember, let alone set up a surprise party for him. Seemingly everyone he’d grown up with had come. His parents let him party with the others in the garage while the movers towed everything in.

He was a little awkward at first but everything fell into place pretty quickly. Everything except Craig. He hadn’t shown up.

Someone cleared their throat behind Tweek and he flinched, nearly spilling his off brand coffee.

“Gah!”

“Tweek.” Cartman says amicable, immediately raising Tweek’s suspicions.

“What do you want?” Tweek asks, accusation already infiltrating his tone.

“No need for hostilities.” Cartman says, crossly.

Tweek regards him warily, “okay?”

Cartman wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him away from the party. “Now, Creeg was too embarrassed to ask himself-”

“Craig” Tweek corrects automatically.

“Goddamnit.” Cartman curses under his breath.

“What did Craig want to ask about?” Tweek presses.

Cartman takes a deep breath before continuing. “Cupid-me said he’s waiting on the deck for you.” Cartman explains, pointing towards the edge of the house.

“Who’s Cupid-me?” Tweek asks in confusion.

Cartman freezes and Tweek could swear he hears a quiet *tee-he-he*. He glances around for the source but sees nothing.

“Are you going to make Craig wait?” Cartman asks, anxious.

Tweek flinches, “no.”

Cartman pushes him forward a little, “then go.”

As Tweek makes his way to the little deck around back of the house, his nerves start getting to him. What was he supposed to say to Craig? As he rounded the corner, he saw Craig leaning against the railing, fog trailing off before him. Tweek smiled a bit nervously. Craig looked good.

“Hey Craig!” Tweek fidgets with the coffee cup in his hands as he continues, “it’s nice to finally be back at South Park.”

Craig, turns and stares, silent for a moment, a blush flares across his cheeks as he stands in awe of the boy before him.

“I want you.” He states matter-of-fact. If his eyes could have been hearts they would have.

Tweek goes wide eyed, frozen for a moment before his own blush burns across his face.

“What?!”

Tweek moves away while him and a Craig were kids and comes back when they both turned 17

[yestolerancepro]

Tolerance Project extra Blog 25 movies that are perfect from start to finish and the Tolerance project featured 3 of them well almost*

Introduction

Hello after last weeks blog called 25 Best movie posters of all time based on an article by the collider film website this blog continues on a simalar theme except this one is called 25 movies that are perfect from start to finish as before we are not going to concentrate on all 25 films in the collider website but just 3 that have Tolerance film links to read the original article click here  25 Movies That Are Perfect Throughout, Ranked (collider.com)

14 Rocky (1976)

Yep Rocky is here again and yes I know as I said last week it shouldn’t have been included in the article about the 25 greatest movie posters because of its status as a deleted scene in the Tolerance film I decided to include it anyway and I still stand by that lol enough of my rabbiting on like this here is what Callider said about the Italian station

 Underdog stories can be hard to resist, especially within the sports genre and particularly when they're as well-told as the one in Rocky. This wasn't Sylvester Stallone's first movie by any means, but it was the one that made him a star, and is perhaps the overall greatest film of his. On top of starring as the title character, he also wrote the screenplay, with the movie's story following a down-on-his-luck man in Philadelphia who strives for greatness when he's given the chance to fight the world's heavyweight boxing champion.

If anything about Rocky seems cheesy or clichéd, it's probably because the film was so influential that the vast majority of sports movies made in its wake likely took some inspiration from it, in one way or another. It's an underdog movie written by and starring an underdog, and the film's box office and awards success (it won three Oscars, including Best Picture) make it a stirring and inspiring film in more ways than one.

9 The Good the Bad and the Ugly (1966)

A spoof the actually appeared in the Tolerance film we used it to highlight Blue Badge abuse and one of the best scenes in the Tolerance anyway here is what Collider said about The Good The Bad and the Ugly the third Chapter in the Dollars trilogy.

 An iconic Western that stands as one of the best movies of the 1960s (Western or otherwise), The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is riveting, exciting, and ridiculously entertaining for its lengthy runtime of nearly three hours. The three characters referred to in the title are all relatively selfish, albeit differ when it comes to the brutality of their actions, though all three have the same goal: finding a buried stash of gold somewhere in the desert while the American Civil War wages around them.

It's the most popular film directed by Sergio Leone, and might also be his best, functioning as a Western, a war film, a buddy comedy (at times), and an epic adventure movie all at once. With its memorable characters, quotable dialogue, unforgettable music (Ennio Morricone strikes again), and bursts of intense action, it's a rousing success from beginning to end. Even if you don't ordinarily like Westerns, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is the absolute definition of a must-watch.

1 Jaws (1975)

The first and the best Jaws film I am not surprised it top of colliders list of perfect films lets face it has some classic music by John Williams heck we not only used the title music once but twice in the Tolerance film ourselves.

It also has the iconic poster designed by Roger Kastel see my last blog it also has soon to be Master Director Steven Speilberg to direct it anyway don’t just take my word for it here is what Callider had to say.

Predating Star Wars by two years, Jaws is often considered the original Hollywood blockbuster. It was a movie that established an already accomplished Steven Spielberg as an undisputed master filmmaker, and it remains his most exciting thriller. As far as the plot goes, it almost couldn't be simpler, as Jaws follows three men who set out to kill a monstrous shark that's been terrorizing a seaside town during the summer holiday season.

No dinosaur movie has ever been as good as Spielberg's Jurassic Park, and similarly, no other shark movie has ever come close to touching Jaws. It's a movie that works wonders with a direct premise that in lesser hands would feel generic, underwhelming, or predictable, and every minute here proves engrossing. It's a movie that's perfectly cast, perfectly paced, and perfectly directed by a remarkably young Spielberg (he wasn't even 30 at the time of its release). In essence, Jaws is - without a doubt - simply perfect.

Pictures

Rocky

The 3 men who are the good the bad and ugly of the classic 1967 western

Jaws attacks its director Steven Spielberg

If you have enjoyed this blog please consider giving a donation to the Tolerance project by clicking here

[hussainrazadigitalmedia]

Academic Blog #8

Transmedia and Ben 10

In this blog, I will be discussing transmedia with the example of one of the most famous show, Ben 10 (2005).

Plot:

Ben 10 is a show that was released on Cartoon Network back in 2005. The show revolves around a kid named Ben Tennyson. He goes to a summer trip with his grandpa Max Tennyson and cousin Gwen Tennyson. On his journey, Ben finds an alien gadget watch, called Omnitrix, that allows him to transform into 10 different aliens. Other alien beings then come to earth to steal the gadget from Ben or take over the world and Ben, along with his grandpa and cousin, stops them throughout the series.

Analysis:

Ben 10 has been around quite a long time. Back when it was coming soon, in 2005, I was in school and would always watch the trailers. However, the show took everything and everyone by storm. It became among the most popular brand in the world.

Now, how does it fit in the context of transmedia. Well, we know that transmedia is “A process where integral elements of a fiction get dispersed systematically across multiple delivery channels for the purpose of creating a unified and coordinated entertainment experience.” (Jenkins 2011).

Ben 10 started off as a kids show but it became so popular in a few years that it was everywhere. From simple merchandises like school bags, dolls and watch toys to video games, card games and board games. They were very popular not only in the western region, where they were officially released, but even different parts of the globes like Middle East, Southeast Asia.

The Ben 10 hype continued as the show turned into live action movies and video games. Ben 10 then received a new direct sequel, Ben 10 Alien Force. This, again, increased the popularity of the already popular show. Now, there were more merchandises of Ben, Gwen, Kevin, and others. Action figures became popular. There were holographs, VR games etc. Ben 10 Alien Force introduced a new omnitrix and new aliens which made the show fresh. The show also took elements from its prequel, like characters, references, worlds and villains.

After this, till now, Ben 10 is an ongoing series. It now has sequels like Ben 10 Ultimate alien, omniverse and remakes like Ben 10 (2020). New video games and new merchandises are always coming and people enjoy it.

Conclusion:

Transmedia means telling a story or using a story in different mediums for majority of the people to enjoy it. So, if someone is not into shows, they may enjoy video games and the definition is quite vast when you think about it. That is why, transmedia is a one of the most popular ways to reach as many people as possible.

Bibliography:

Jenkins, H. (2011) “Transmedia 202: Further Reflection,” Henry Jenkins Pop Junction, 31 July. Available at: http://henryjenkins.org/blog/2011/08/defining_transmedia_further_re.html

Ben 10 (2005), Created by Man of Action [Show], Cartoon Network.

Ben 10: Alien Force (2008), Created by Man of Action [Show], Cartoon Network Studios.

Ben 10: Ultimate Alien (2010), Created by Man of Action [Show], Cartoon Network Studios.

Ben 10: Race Against Time (2007), Directed by Alex Winter [Film], Alive and Kicking, Inc. and Cartoon Network.

High Voltage Software (2007), Ben 10: Protector of Earth [Video game], High Voltage Software.

[winderlylandchime]

2/2 It got to the Linds/Mel and Brian scene and he paused it, counted to 10 and started it again..’its cute that he hangs out with them like this. Can Mel MIND HER FUCKING BUSINESS FOR ONCE, i will literally pay her! *looks at me sincerely* i mean this in the most *makes a fist* ally way possible but this lesbian is pissing me the fuck off, SEE BRIAN THINKS JUSTIN KNOWS HE CARES SO LEAVE HIM ALO- why am i hearing violin music again?! Is this now a thing? *mocks ethans line about playing in d major or whatever* you have no idea how hard it is to watch you play while i am in between my pills. I should watched another half an hour to take them to watch this shit, maybe his goatee wouldn’t be so bad then. Justin..come on. OH HE MENTIONED HIS BOYFRIEND FINALLY! if you were his boyfriend, i wouldn’t be watching this show so stay in your fucking lane. CAN HE STOP THIS HAS TO BE HARASSMENT..oh my god, he would play for him? Like that one scene in Barbie where Ken’s play the guitar? THE GAYS ALSO HAVE THAT? I am on the verge of puke, he’d make love a couple hundred times. Dude, BRIAN!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS SHIT SHOW?! No offense my man, but you don’t give off a vibe that you could last..through all that…if anyone knows how it is to be fucked is justin. come on blondie, lets go home. I hate this pretentious asshole.’ ‘Wait Ben’s T cells went down..hold up what is that, let me do some research before I give my opinion *pulls up google and reads up about it* oh boy, that’s not a good thing. Benny boy, we are gonna be okay! Exactly mikey, stop putting people on this high pedestal! We as humans all suck. Anyway let’s go back to Brian and Justin because this is not how the episode was supposed to go, i had different plans for it! And once again NOBODY listened. I wish someone would listen to me’ ‘WHY IS THAT DUDES CD HERE? Justin, there is no way in hell that you actually like this type of music? Where is Brian? Brian come home, your boy is acting dramatic! OH BRIAN IS GONNA BUY FLOWERS! HES GONNA BUY HIM FLOW- oh for crying out loud! I can’t get a fucking thing! First Pickle guy dies, then nobody goes by my script and now this. What’s next?!’ He then proceeded to get up, get himself his pills, took the entire cigarette pack and went outside and before closing the balcony door her just went ‘don’t even think about bothering me.’

*looks at me sincerely* i mean this in the most *makes a fist* ally way possible but this lesbian is pissing me the fuck off

SEE BRIAN THINKS JUSTIN KNOWS HE CARES SO LEAVE HIM ALO- why am i hearing violin music again?!

Anon, your brother is all of us.

Ethan's whole "If I was your boyfriend" - buckle up friends, it never ends.

.oh my god, he would play for him? Like that one scene in Barbie where Ken’s play the guitar? THE GAYS ALSO HAVE THAT? NOW I'M IMAGINING ETHAN PLAYING PUSH ON THE VIOLIN. And you know what? A vast improvement.

Join the "hating this pretentious asshole" club. We hate it here.

I love that he google what it means that his T cells went down.

The almost-flowers scene... to be very fair to Brian, Justin has a canonical flowers allergy.

First Pickle Guy dies and then no one goes by my script. Oh Brother Anon, we're really in it now.

[gen-is-gone]

1, 16 and 26 for the writing ask game please!

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Well, I'd prefer to have the executive function to pull off multiple longfics, but so far the vast majority of my output has been pretty damn short oneshots. Working on increasing my stamina, so to speak. Home From Sea is ~100k, but also took me three years and still isn't finished. It's all a long, somewhat frustrating series of baby steps, getting better and faster and finishing what I start.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Oh ye gods, good question. Um, counting various plans for oneshot series as one 'fic' apiece, and not counting stuff that's super on the backburner, about five. One to share: the Deep Space Nine library AU I've had in my head since like 2018, called L Space Nine because I love puns and Pratchett. Ben Sisko is a depressed children's librarian who gets an unexpected promotion as the manager of a rundown urban library with no funding, and he and the rest of the DS9 crew bring home and community back to it. Definitely not any kind of personal venting opportunity.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Well, Home From Sea is the longest by a considerable margin, and more things happen in it than in a oneshot, which sort of makes it more of a ride by default. But not counting Spiders Longfic over there, I think Duet For Dueling Players and/or Ode to Joy are both kind of weird. At the very least, they are both from an alien, nonhumanoid POV that was very fun to write.

Thanks!

[olko71]

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on http://yaroreviews.info/2023/06/why-is-thames-water-in-so-much-trouble

Why is Thames Water in so much trouble?

PA Media

By Dearbail Jordan & Ben King

BBC News

Thames Water may have to be taken over by the government if it runs out of money.

But why is the UK’s largest water company facing a crisis – and are other firms facing similar problems?

How did Thames Water end up with so much debt?

When the company was privatised in 1989, it had no debt. But over the years it borrowed heavily and is currently £14bn in debt.

A large proportion of that was added when Macquarie, an Australian infrastructure bank, owned Thames Water, reaching over £10bn when the company was sold in 2017.

Analysts say Thames Water’s current debt amounts to 80% of the value of the business, making it the most heavily indebted of England and Wales’ water companies.

Also, interest payments on more than half of Thames’ debt rise with inflation, which has been stubbornly high, helping to push the company to the brink.

Macquarie said that it invested billions of pounds in upgrading Thames’s water and sewage infrastructure while it owned the company.

But critics argue that it took billions of pounds out of the company in loans and dividends – which is a share of a business’s profits that is paid to shareholders.

Thames Water said that it has not paid dividends to external shareholders for the past five years.

However, dividends can also be used to move money around companies that are ultimately owned by one parent company.

Thames Water has paid over £200m in dividends to other companies within the group in the past five years.

Most of this money has then been paid as interest to outside investors who have loaned the group money.

Critics argue that the dividends were paid with money that could have been spent on improving Thames Water’s infrastructure and services. However, Thames Water is legally obliged to make those debt interest payments.

Are all water companies in trouble?

Thames Water’s travails have certainly put a spotlight on what is a debt-laden industry. According to the regulator Ofwat, the sector’s total debt reached £60.6bn by March last year.

Of the 11 companies that provide water and sewage services in England and Wales, six are owned by or controlled by overseas investors from countries including Hong Kong, Canada and Malaysia. Like Thames Water, critics claim that overseas owners have loaded water companies up with debt and paid themselves handsome dividends at the expense of investment.

While the sector has – like other industries – been hit by higher costs for things like chemicals and energy, the key problem for water companies is that the interest that they pay on their debt is linked to the retail prices index (RPI) measure of inflation. This is usually higher than the consumer prices index (CPI) measure of inflation. For example, in May RPI inflation was 11.3% compared to CPI inflation of 8.7%.

Ofwat estimates that half of water companies’ debt is linked to inflation and the vast majority of that is tied to the RPI measure.

Meanwhile, last December Ofwat raised concerns about the financial resilience of five companies: Thames Water, Southern Water, Yorkshire Water, SES and Portsmouth.

Yorkshire, Southern, Portsmouth and SES all say they have taken steps to address Ofwat’s concerns.

Who owns Thames Water?

Thames Water is owned by a group of investors spanning four continents. The largest is the Canadian pension fund, OMERS, with 31.8%.

The second-largest is the Universities Superannuation Scheme, with 19.7%, a pension fund for UK academics.

Other investors include sovereign wealth funds from China and Abu Dhabi, which invest those nations’ assets on behalf of their governments.

Three other pension funds and two investment firms make up the rest.

Why was Thames Water privatised?

The entire water and waste sector was privatised 34 years ago under the late Margaret Thatcher’s Conservative government for £7.6bn. At the time, Mrs Thatcher wrote off the industry’s £5bn debt, leaving companies with a clean slate and gave them £1.5bn in public money.

The government had wanted to privatise the industry in 1984 but a public backlash against the plan saw it shelved until after the general election three years later. At the time, the UK was under pressure from Europe to improve the purity of its water.

However, meeting European standards would cost billions of pounds worth of investment which, it was hoped, would come from the private sector and, by extension, companies’ customers.

“If we want environmental improvement, it will cost money,” said Mrs Thatcher in 1988. “It will be the people who want those improvements in water who will have to pay.”

Former Labour MP Ann Taylor later said of privatising the water industry: “The message is always the same – maximise the cost to the consumer to ensure maximum return to the investor. We should not be surprised at that. After all, that is what private investors expect of their companies.”

Related Topics

Water

Thames Water

More on this story

Thames Water in urgent talks amid collapse fears

19 hours ago

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Was it wise to read this in bed next to my spouse? Probably not. But did he enjoy laughing at me as I gasped, yelped and/or tossed the phone down 28 times? Yes, he did. You set me on fire with this one, babe. You said it wouldn’t require a wardrobe change and I’m sorry, but - you lied.

Entirely beside the point but I would love to know *which* sister our couple is lying about being there as a chaperone. Eloise seems the obvious choice. But also, I bet she actually *would* agree to help Ben with his trysts in exchange for things. Perhaps he could do the same for her, ‘chaperoning’ her on trips outside the house where he just lets her run wild and doesn’t ask questions. Or maybe he can finally tell her where babies come from, mortifying as that would be for him 😅 I can see her demanding to know why exactly he needs time alone with young ladies and once he explains in exchange for her confidence, the two of them just never look each other in the eyes again - hahaaaa

I love the description of the studio. I think I’ve imagined the vast majority of Benesmut taking place at night (whether it was explicitly written or not), so this gauzy sunlit studio is gorgeously refreshing. And makes it feel all the more scandalous…

Ooooo the white shirt, braces and barefoot “Lock The Door” outfit, yummmm 🤤

“I want you to ruin me.” She speaks for us all 🥵

“You desire me?” “How can you be certain I can provide such things?” This cocky little shit. Just wants to keep stringing her out and basking in her praises. Ahhhhhhhh

The way you’ve written the whole buildup to the first kiss is breathtaking. I can see it crystal clear, playing out like a movie in my mind. The slow pressing together, their grips on each other growing needier, voices lowering into panting whispers. I just feel the slow burn here, the tension, the yearning. It’s perfection 🔥

““I…. I thought I could maybe resist this,” he laments, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on yours, “but there is not a chance now. Whatever you want from me, I am yours.” his eyes fly open, and there is so much there in those enlarged pupils.” Shrriiieeeekkkk!! He relents at last, letting all reason fall away to undeniable passion. He knows how complicated this is, but he just can’t deny it to her when she is begging him for it. He’s probably mad at himself over how much he wants this. But he’ll do what she asks, even if it damns his soul. Now THAT’s what I call an offer from a gentleman. 💙

Their saucy little banter about their cover story is EVERYTHING. Putting her at ease as he carries her around the room, the two of them giggling, they are just so damn happy to be doing this. If he ever refers to himself as a scoundrel again I’m going to pop a blood vessel (this is a problem Han Solo created in my life). 

The gentleness, the slowness, the way he is insistent on easing her into every sensation even though she is so eager for more. Just brushing his knuckles across her belly forever was the most tender, heartwarming thing 🥹 He knows how much she is experiencing all in one go. She’s barely been kissed, much less touched or pleasured in any way, and she’s asking him for the full home run. He’s going to guide her through everything one step at a time, always checking to make sure she is alright. The world does not deserve this man.

“your tongue peaks out to lick the charcoal tang there, and he breathes ragged, hooks the top of his thumb into your mouth.” FAYE! Cue throwing my phone across the bed. YOU DID IT AGAIN! Took the HOTTEST hand moment and popped it in here, all unsuspecting. The Kate Sharma thumb in the mouth?!?!? The moment of S2 that made my eyes cross, except now I’m tongue-tied too because you just described the charcoal tang of his perfect long ruinous fingers??!?!?!!? 😵 Fuck offffffff (affectionate) 

He WINKS as she is moaning her head off, staring at him. HE WINKS - FUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKK

“My sweet, you are on fire for me,” YES I FUCKING AM, SIR 🔥🔥

“can feel a quake in him like he is holding back for you…wanting him to be unbridled—something about this man being wild with passion is an utterly enthralling prospect.” *incoherent burbling noises*

The ache….”your body needs mine”....”Make it better, Benedict”.... Gonna continue writing these notes from the floor. Knees don’t work anymore. 🥵

“He tilts his face to flash his eyes at you, encouraging you to be loud and reckless.” Fucking copy cat. Unless he’s the one who taught the Viscount how to do it… 😉

He tells her to watch…I just…..BENACE

Oh my god this madman, leaving her in ruin and skipping over to his easel to paint her 😂 It’s adorable and beautiful and oh-so-Benedict, but I know if I was her I’d be confused as all hell lol

“He removes your hand from around him, kissing your knuckles and guiding your hand to his shoulder. “Hang onto me, my sweet.” The TENDERNESS, I CAAAAANNNNN’TTTTT 😩

“Relax,” he advises, touching your diaphragm gently, “let out that breath you are holding.” Oh fuck, I love when he does this…hhrrrrnnnnnnggggghhhhhh

“Yes, that’s it,” he pants. “Do not stop; keep moving those fingers for me.”...”“Oh, you are right there,” he grunts with gritted teeth, “I can feel it;” Pretty sure Mr. B thought I was stroking out at this point. 💀💀💀 Fucking dead. I’m dead.

I am Eleanor’s ghost, who will be carrying on the notes. “It is I who should be thanking you,” he answers sincerely, “it is a privilege to be someone’s first.” What an absolute GENTLEMAN!! 🥹

“It doesn’t help that every ten minutes or so, he finds himself drawn to you, sidling up to the chaise and pulling you into sweet distracting kisses that throw you entirely off your pose.” Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. He’s got it bad. Oh boy, oh boy…

“Sir.” You are teasing now, knowing how affected he was when you used that honorific yesterday, goading him, giving him every reason to drag you back to his studio, to his bed.” Oh GIRL - deploying every weapon in her arsenal. Good for her. Make him weak for you to make him rescue you from a joyless future. Minxing for her life here. And it nearly works, but he has one last shred of honor left that manages to hold him at bay and shove her out the door. Again, I can feeeeeeel the yearning in them both. This magnetic pull that he thinks he can break if he closes the door. But she leaves him no chance - whispering the true desires of her heart when she thinks he’s out of earshot but he’s not. This isn’t just flirtation. She loves him, she needs him, and you KNOW our romantic boy can’t just ignore something like that.

Phew, well, one of my lives was ended in sacrifice to this conflagration. No regrets. I, the ghost, will carry on with the final installments, and perhaps the feelings woven into them will revive my body. If anyone is capable of working such magic through their words - it’s you. 💙👻

Portrait: IV

Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A session at Benedict's studio is very eventful

Warnings (for this chapter): 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (m to f) cunnilingus, vaginal sex, discussion of pregnancy.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: We all knew it would come to this ;) thanks to @colettebronte and @makaylan for checking over this monster chapter <3

You arrive 11 am the following day at the address Benedict provided—a pleasant brick townhouse on the edge of Mayfair. You told your parents the subsequent two sessions would need to be at his studio and that his sister would act as chaperone. They both seemed happy with the arrangement, implicitly trusting one of the most eminent families in British society. It was, of course, a ruse of your own making; he made no such offer. In fact, you know for sure you will be alone together, and something about it has your stomach aflutter, a frisson over your skin.

His now-familiar valet answers the door shortly after you knock and guides you to a sun-filled studio at the rear of the property. The large picture windows are draped with sheer voile curtains that allow all the light in but obscure the interior from the surrounding properties. There will be no prying eyes here.

The room itself is a jumble of artefacts, art, canvases, paints, sketchbooks and his familiar easel. There is also an oversized dark green velvet chaise and, behind it, a lush forest backdrop; you assume this is the one Benedict wishes to paint you into, and you are delighted by it.

“Miss y/l/n,” his greeting from the doorway is radiance personified and slides down your spine like warm oil.

“Please, call me y/n,” you respond, turning to smile at him demurely.

“Only if you call me Benedict,” he specifies, walking in. He is casual today in a white shirt and black trousers held up with brocade braces; he is even barefoot.

“Will we be resuming the official portrait, Benedict?” you ask, emphasising his name as he draws closer. “Or the other one?” you add on a whisper.

“Which would you prefer, y/n?” he murmurs, drawing closer. His hand captures your wrist, encircling it between his thumb and forefinger. Paintbrush calloused fingertips resting delicately over your pulse point as if he is cataloguing your heartbeat.

“I have never felt more alive than last night,” you answer without artifice, ensuring your eyes are locked onto each other before you add, “being naked for you.”

He smiles dangerously. “And is that all you want? To be naked?” the tone teasing and low, and you know what he is asking.

Unabashed, you place a hand on his chest; it feels warm through his shirt, and his muscles flex slightly under your fingertips.

“I want you to ruin me.”

His sharp inhale and rapidly dilating pupils make your chest fire and your belly flip. 

“But you are promised to another,” he falters. Just like last night, his reminder is chivalrous. Even as you stand with barely a sliver of light between your bodies, his heat radiating to yours through the thin cotton layers that separate you.

“I do not care,” you state fiercely. “I do not wish to enter a loveless marriage without knowing what it is like to lay with someone I desire.”

“You desire me?” he teases as he presses against you.

“Since the moment I saw you,” you confess on an exhale. “And if I must face this awful future, I do not want to do so as a maiden. Without knowing something of true pleasure.”

“How can you be certain I can provide such things?” he is so close now, leaning over so his nose brushes yours. The moment is so charged you can taste the atmosphere between you. 

“No one makes me burn the way you do,” you murmur honestly, grasping his shirt, his lips ghosting over yours and his fingers a circle around your wrist, feeling your pulse pounding. “You would only need to touch me between my legs, and I would burst into flame.”

The needy noise he makes is everything; there is barely a second of hesitation before his lips crash onto yours. And you are instantly drowning. In the rush of chemicals in your bloodstream. In him, as he claims your mouth. His sizeable warm hand cradles your cheek and jaw, directing the movement. So you kiss back, rocking up onto the balls of your feet and pushing hard with your lips. Then it's a frenzy as he parts your lips with his. His tongue teasing yours insistently, obliterating that previous behind-the-greenhouse fumbling from your memory. This is what it is like to kiss. A sensual dance, a tease and a promise delivered—every fibre of your awakened by the experience that is at once exhilarating and so right.

“Oh god,” he gusts as you break apart.

“What?” your hands grabbing his jaw on reflex, not wanting his face to be far from yours.

“I…. I thought I could maybe resist this,” he laments, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on yours, “but there is not a chance now. Whatever you want from me, I am yours.” his eyes fly open, and there is so much there in those enlarged pupils.

His offer is everything you need, and you mash your lips back to his, needing more hungry all-consuming kisses that he gives willingly.

“Give me everything, Benedict, please,” you say into his open wet mouth, the sound desperate even to your own ears.

“But what of your portrait?” he argues, nipping at your lips.

“You could still paint me after you ruin me?” you suggest with a twisted little smile, moving to suck on his upper lip, loving the tiniest rasp of stubble above it as you close your lips around it. 

“If I attempt to achieve both within an hour, you will not be satisfied with the outcome of either,” he jests with a rich chuckle. 

“Then I will have to stay longer and find a plausible reason when I get home. Perhaps, I have been sitting, waiting here with your sister, and yet you are nowhere to be seen, Mr Bridgerton?” you posit, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you off the ground.

“I am such a scoundrel,” he plays along, hands banding tight around your waist.

“Indeed, and it means my portrait session will not begin until, hmmm, noon at the very earliest,” you declare with mock indignation, eyeing the clock over his shoulder as it shows barely 11:10 am. 

“I will be having strong words with myself about what an irresponsible cad I am,” he smirks, walking with you held tight in his arms, diving in for another kiss.

“Please do,” you concur over a giggle.

You share laughs and feather kisses until you feel the chaise bump the back of your calves.

“Are you certain?” he checks, his mien turning sweetly sincere.

“I have never been more certain,” you state categorically.

And then he is gently lowering you onto the plush chaise and crawling over you. You call his name softly as he nuzzles your neck and drops the lightest kiss there. His clothed body is so warm and all-consuming over yours. His hands taking his weight are either side of your upper arms, and he is looking down at you with a wondrous expression.

“I did as you suggested,” you offer quietly, “I wore nothing but this dress.”

His smile is wolfish as he lowers himself to kiss your collarbone. “Wonderful,” his voice like warm honey. You grab one of his hands, and he watches, fascinated, as you kiss his warm knuckles, then guide his hand to the bow below your right armpit.

He immediately understands what you are asking and holds your gaze intensely as he slowly unties it. The fabric around your body instantly slackens as he slides the two sashes apart.  Then slowly, with the look of someone unwrapping a wondrous gift, he peels the wraparound layer of your dress back over your front. It falls to your other side, and you feel warm air swirl around your nipples as they are exposed—the same with the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs. Your whole torso lying naked under him now.

He sucks in a breath.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask, concerned, wondering if perhaps you are not what he expected this close-up.

“Not in the slightest,” he reassures instantly, but there is a tremor in his hand as he brushes the back of it over your belly. Your stomach ripples under his attention, and goosebumps break out over all of your skin from just that gossamer touch.

“You are so sensitive to touch, my sweet,” he breathes hot over your face as you revel in this new moniker he has assigned you.

“I have never been touched like this before,” you remind, feeling lightheaded.

He hums in understanding and brushes more delicate caresses over your stomach; his warm smile is everything. He spends what feels like ages running the back of his hand over your midriff, calming strokes of his knuckles as you bite your lip and watch his face that concentrates on his movements. Then he flips his wrist, and fingertips trace over your skin. Your whole body pushes up into this new tactile sensation. He smiles knowingly and spiders his fingers up your sternum, intentionally avoiding your breasts, travelling slowly up to your neck with a swirling touch over your cheek to your lips. 

His thumb catches at the corner of your mouth, then sweeps across the bow of your lips, opening under his touch. When the pad brushes your front tooth, your tongue peaks out to lick the charcoal tang there, and he breathes ragged, hooks the top of his thumb into your mouth. You close your lips and suckle on instinct, staring into his dilated eyes. Something so slow and sensual about the moment as you suck more insistently until he withdraws and paints a trail of your saliva down your chin, over your chest until it lands on your nipple, and you gasp loudly as the wetness makes you pucker there. 

He smirks and pinches your nipple gently between his forefinger and wettened thumb. Pleasure shoots out around your being, concentrating between your legs, making your hips cant up into him. There is something warm and hard insisting inside his trousers; you know it must be his ‘member’ you have heard your ladies-maids talking about.

“Sh.. show me what is in your trousers,” you stutter inelegantly as you press up into him again, your mouth engaging words without your brain filtering them, too lost in the sea of novel experiences to censor yourself.

He chuckles at your turn of phrase. “Not yet,” he decides, lowering his lips to your neck, his fingers still on your breast, “but I will, I promise,” he buzzes into your ear.

His mouth then takes the same journey down your neck, little kisses setting your skin on fire until they reach your other nipple, which he sucks insistently, and you see stars, your hands grabbing his biceps to anchor yourself. Your cries of pleasure and surprise are loud even to your own ears, but you don't think to stop yourself, awash with sensation. And he doesn't shush you; in fact, he tilts his head to look up at your face as you stare down at him, and he winks and sucks harder on your pebbled nub—then swaps sides. You feel something akin to hot coals in your chest burning bright. And between your legs is a furnace, too—you long for his touch there.

“Please,” your voice gauzy, “more.”

And he obliges. He surges up to capture your lips again with greedy kisses, rearranging his weight onto one arm and the other sliding back down over your sternum, but this time going lower than your stomach. Pausing to swirl around your belly button, his fingers stray lower…. 

Lower still…. 

Lower…. until they run into the patch of hair at the meeting of your legs. 

He breaks the kiss to stare into your eyes as he slips his fingers between your legs, and your mind blanks. Nothing has prepared you for what it feels like to have another touch you there. Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls slack as his fingers quest into your folds. He hisses at the viscous wet heat he finds there.

“Benedict,” you whisper harshly onto his lips, and he growls lightly.

“My sweet, you are on fire for me,” his voice rough.

You moan and nod as he flexes his fingers on your clit before he kisses you again. Fiercely. Deeper and more desperate than before. You can feel a quake in him like he is holding back for you.

“Do not hold back,” you appeal into his mouth, wanting him to be unbridled—something about this man being wild with passion is an utterly enthralling prospect.

“I must. I need to be gentle, you are a maiden, and I cannot do what my body is aching to. Not just yet,” Benedict explains, his fingers rhythmically moving over your bud, desire coiling tightly inside you at his actions.

“What does it ache to do?” you whisper, having suspicions but wanting to hear the words drip from those kiss-swollen lips.

“To strip naked and plunge into you over and over until you scream my name,” he confesses.

“Do so,” you pant.

“I will, once you are ready.”

“And what of my ache?” you mutter; it feels like a hook is deep inside you, tugging, needing something.

“Where do you ache?” A look of concern flits across his features, and his fingers cease their wonderful movement.

“Inside,” you clarify and place your fingers over his to encourage him to restart his ministrations.

“Inside where?” his timbre falling impossibly low.

“Above your fingers,” you blush, “I am aching, and I need something.”

He groans, resting his nose on your cheek. “Your body needs mine; it is telling you it wants me as much as I want you,” he tutors breathily.

“Make it better, Benedict,” you beseech, touching his face.

He smiles, and the hand between your legs pushes your thighs further apart. Then he is slipping down your torso, sliding his mouth over your contours, pausing again at your breasts before going lower, as his hand did before. You watch, fascinated, as his thick head of hair is all you see, but you feel his lips over your skin, making you quiver in anticipation. You make a noise of surprise when he slinks between your legs and places your thighs over his shoulders.

“What are you…?” you begin, but he hushes you. 

You have never heard your ladies-maids talk of a man kissing between the legs, but that is what he does—he places a soft kiss on your sensitive nub, and you almost hit the ceiling with the new sensation. He hums in amusement, holds your thighs more firmly open, and repeats the action, but this time he lingers and unfurls his tongue all the way over where he had his fingers just before.

“Oh, my g-,” you gasp so loud that he chortles again, this time right into your overheated flesh. You make the most undignified noise, halfway between a moan and a squeak. You want to be mortified at the sound he has wrought from you and what he is doing, but he doesn't let you. He tilts his face to flash his eyes at you, encouraging you to be loud and reckless.

“Don't hold back,” he says silkily, echoing your words from moments ago. “I'm going to make that ache go away, my sweet,” he vows.

You can do nothing but let your eyes flutter shut and let him feast on you, which is precisely what he does. There is nothing gentle about the way he handles you. Taking your flesh into his mouth covetously, the heat and suction making you writhe, pushing your pelvis into his face, greedy for more. His left arm is banded tight around your thigh, holding you open to his attention, his right hand free to tease patterns over your belly, heightening your sensitivity with feathery brushes that make your skin hum.

You flush warm as you feel yourself climbing somewhere invisible. There is a certainty in your mind that nothing should feel quite this good - how on earth does any married lady get anything done if this is a regular occurrence? - but it is tinged with melancholy, knowing that this may be your only time to experience such pleasure. The bittersweet edge makes you more desperate for him, grabbing his hair and directing his attention.

He moans his approval, asks you to look at him as he spears the tip of his tongue into you, and you do. Stare down the length of your body to his eyes, dilated and so intense, you can’t look away. You watch as he opens his mouth wide and draws your swollen bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue gently around the most sensitive spots, varying pressure and speed so you never know what will come next. Unbreakable tension builds up, holding your belly muscles taunt as if in anticipation of something. Then with a raise of an eyebrow and a little soft plea to give it to him, he delicately runs the edge of his front teeth right over your bud, and you scream at the drag of the little jagged edge there. 

Your heartbeat throbs where he touches, and there is a rush of blood in your ears, feeling something almost snap inside. You grab his head forcefully and press him into your flesh as your world contracts, then explodes. Something gushes from inside your channel onto his chin, but you cannot stop it, barely school your own movements, the burning pulsing ache around your clit just relentless and all-consuming.

He pulls up and kisses your belly tenderly as you pant hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling, slowly returning to yourself, to the moment.

“Now you are ready to be painted,” he smirks as you lay sprawled on the chaise, watching in disbelief as he gets up and goes to his easel.

“Benedict?” 

“Your cheeks are so flushed, your lips wine-stained; I need to capture this beauteous glow you have,” he calls as you stare at him slack-jawed. “Just a few details, and then I shall be back with you,” he promises. 

Glancing at your face, he paints delicate tiny strokes. As he works, your eyes fall to his trousers. There is a prominent bulge, and you swallow hard at the sight. You can't wait to explore more. Of him. Of his body.

“Come back to me,” you call, after a few moments, holding your hands out in invitation.

“You know, I shall never complete this painting if you keep distracting me so,” he argues, but the smile as he prowls back towards you reveals how much he does not mind that fact.

“I have faith in your abilities,” you grin as he crawls over you, settling on top of you with more kisses. “Please take off your clothes.” Your request is timid but with an undercurrent of desire that you can’t and don't want to hide.

He chuckles against your cheek and pushes back to sitting, stripping off his shirt. You place your hands on the slight bump of his pectoral muscles. He wears a crooked smile as you slide them over his smooth, warm skin, enjoying the play of lithe, toned muscle under your fingertips. He has barely a dusting of hairs over his chest; it is mostly smooth, with freckles flecking his skin that you want to trace with your nose. Your fingers spider up to his neck to pull him back down over you, wanting to feel his bare chest on yours. His chest drags perfectly over your nipples, and you sigh at all the sensation, banding your arms around his torso, exploring the skin of his back as his lips worry your neck. Your hands sweep down below his waist to the wool of his trousers. Instinctually you slide your hands over the swell of his buttocks and grab both cheeks, pulling him down on top of you, that bulge rocking deliciously over the heat between your legs. He startles at your daring move. 

“More, Benedict,” you plead, always wanting more.

He chuckles, and his hand insinuates between your bodies, undoing the buttons around his waist. You kiss his hair as he looks down at the task in hand, almost too scared to look yourself, intrigued but intimidated. His wrist brushes your thighs as he pushes his trousers away, and you realise from the wave of heat that he wears no underwear. 

He tilts his head up and catches your gaze with a teasing smile. “Do you want to see? You said you wanted to know what is inside my trousers.”

He observes your face as your eyes drop between your bodies and see him, his member. You suck in a breath. It’s a swollen, veiny length of flesh with a red bulbous tip leaking slightly as it stands proud from a patch of hair not dissimilar to that found between your legs.

“Go ahead,” he advocates, “touch it.”

Hesitantly you reach to brush it, and it bobs as you do, your eyes cutting to his face to check all is well.

“It’s alright,” he assures.

It’s warm, contradictory, velvet-smooth skin over a rigid, hard mass. You wrap your hand around it, familiarising yourself with its dimensions and weight. He moans in his throat as you do. 

“Is this right?” 

“More than,” he breathes, sounding winded.

“This will never fit inside me, Benedict,” the concerned words tumbling from your lips as you grip more insistently, and he growls.

“Yes, it will; do not fear. I will need to go very slowly initially, but it will fit perfectly.”

He removes your hand from around him, kissing your knuckles and guiding your hand to his shoulder.

“Hang onto me, my sweet. I will show you,” he murmurs, pulling your thighs wider apart under him and slipping his cock over your clit in teasing strokes so you moan lightly and writhe. So very slick and ready.

Then you hold your breath as you feel blunt pressure around your opening. 

“Relax,” he advises, touching your diaphragm gently, “let out that breath you are holding.” 

You feel your lungs deflate just as another part of your body fills. You cry out in surprise as his tip slips inside your pussy. It is overwhelming, with so much heat and stretch. You feel him groan softly and shift his weight onto his hands on either side of your waist, rocking his hips just a touch to push deeper.

“Be brave for me, my sweet. You may feel a pinch of pain right now. But it will all be over very soon, and it will not hurt again.” he vows, leaning on his hands to kiss you tenderly.

You just nod your confirmation, unable to form words, just as a sharp ache blooms inside, making you stutter a breath.

“Well done,” he compliments. “I promise no more pain from now.” 

You nod and groan as he slides deeper; it feels like you are being invaded. He rearranges your hips, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing on more; every new inch he pushes into you feels like something entirely different. Until he finally bottoms out inside you, stilling his movement.

“There you go, my sweet,” he exhales and cups your jaw reverentially, “are you alright?”

You nod and confirm quietly that all is well.

The experience of him entering you has been novel but not exactly spellbinding; more strangely comforting—as if he belongs inside you somehow. As he remains still, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation, your fleeting thought is wondering what all the fuss is about beyond a feeling of utter fullness. But then he moves… and everything falls into place about why this act is so dangerously addictive. You let out a loud unadulterated moan of sheer pleasure as his slight rocking motion glances a spot inside that makes your eyes roll back, and your mouth falls open.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs with more than a hint of pride in his tone.

Your approval is mumbled; fingers curl deeper into his flesh, blunt nails leaving crescent marks on his skin.  He rumbles a noise and starts a more pronounced rhythm, building slowly until he thrusts into you like you have imagined him moving with a lover. Deep, languid strokes, putting his whole body into the effort. You moan louder, your brain going offline, leaning into your physical instincts, just pursuing the pleasure of two becoming one, moving in unison.

“That’s it, oh you are doing so well,” his compliments spurring you on, building your confidence.

“It feels just wonderful, Benedict,” you burble, arms locked around his shoulders as your lips meet in open-mouth breathy kisses.

His movements start to speed up, and you cling harder, the pleasurable feeling growing into something hotter, more urgent. A burning hypnotic high that you cannot and do not want to stop. He rumbles encouragements into your ear, making you feel wanted, desired and the focus of all his energy, breathing each other's air—it feels intimate and shared.

“Touch yourself, just like I taught you,” his words velvety and stirring, you want to do everything he asks.

You slide a hand from around him, trailing down to circle your clit in the same way he did for you earlier; the jolt of sensation makes your eyes go wide and your mouth slack. 

“Yes, that's it,” he pants. “Do not stop; keep moving those fingers for me.”

With every thrust, his pelvis brushes the back of your hand, and part of you wants to caress him as well, the skin there warm and almost dewy from exertion now, but most of you just wants to keep going, selfishly chasing your own high. Your chest becomes tight, your muscles tensing; he somehow feels so huge inside you now, every movement an effort. You feel on the verge of a crescendo of some kind, your blood pumping hard. 

“Oh, you are right there,” he grunts with gritted teeth, “I can feel it; god, you are so tight, come on, my sweet, let go, do not fight that feeling,” he instructs, and you stare deep into his eyes and obey. 

Letting the incredible tension snap and erupt out of you, your core convulsing hard around his cock, as every muscle follows suit, almost fighting him. You can’t school the noises you make, crying out nonsense and his name, clinging so hard you know you are leaving marks in his flesh but unable to do anything but ride out the wave engulfing you. All of your senses narrowed, then burst into colours.

Dimly at the edge of your conscience, you feel him pushing harder, his hands vice-like on your waist, loud groans in your ear, singing your praises. Then your core is suddenly bereft, pulsing against nothing, as he rapidly withdraws, and warmth splashes over your belly.

He is panting hard right in your ear when you come back to the room, his body heat and weight almost too much to bear, slumped on top of you as he is.

“Benedict?” you call and tap on his shoulders. Slowly he peels up, your skin tacky in places, clinging as he pulls up onto an arm, the other curling around your neck.

“Was that alright, my sweet?” he checks sincerely as his breath evens.

“It was…. I cannot think of the words,” you whisper honestly, your voice a little hoarse, “in a good way,” you clarify quickly.

His answering smile is dazzling as a little droplet of moisture tracks down his cheek and splashes onto your neck.

“I’m so glad,” he grins, moving in to kiss you.

“What happened at the end, though? You pulled out of me so quickly?” you pout slightly.

“I did not want to impregnate you, my sweet,” he says slowly, looking bemused as your jaw drops.

“This is how a woman comes to be with child?” you gasp.

“Oh my,” he chuckles warmly, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “I assumed you knew.”

“I only had some information about laying with a man from my ladies-maids,” you confess, “I did not know this is how babies are made! No wonder there are so many babies being born!” you exclaim.

He laughs loudly and nuzzles your cheek. “It’s rather addictive, is it not?” his tone honeyed as he reaches for his shirt on the floor and tenderly wipes the residue from your belly. “That is my seed, and if I left it inside you, it would make a baby,” he explains patiently as you watch him clean your skin, fascinated.

“Thank you,” you rush out, and he tilts his head to look at you after throwing the shirt aside, his brow knitted with puzzlement. “For explaining that to me, for not leaving me with child, for what we just did. It was just….  wonderous,” you exhale, your voice going dreamy.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” he answers sincerely, “it is a privilege to be someone’s first, and I’m so pleased you enjoyed it. You may now enter marriage in full knowledge of what awaits,” he adds almost an afterthought, something in his cadence changing.

“I do not wish to dwell on such things,” you frown, shaking your head as you sit together. The idea you might have to do this with your intended makes you nauseated. Such an avenue of thought seems maudlin and too self-indulgent; you want to enjoy the rest of your time with Benedict today. And there is always tomorrow. “Let us focus on more immediate concerns,” you add, forcing your voice light.

“Such as?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively.

“Painting, Mr Bridgerton,” you laugh pointedly, “unless you have something else in mind?” you smirk back.

“I might,” he adds silkily, drawing you into his arms after pulling his trousers back on. “But I may need some time to recover,” he adds with a wink, and you chuckle.

“Perhaps we should concentrate on the official portrait for now?” you propose, re-tying your dress, “and if there is time later, well, there is a second picture that may need more work.” your tone playful as you raise an eyebrow. 

 “Indeed it may,” that crooked smile tugging at his lips that makes your belly flip.

The next hour is spent with stolen glances and shared giggles as he paints your portrait, standing behind his easel shirtless; so very appealing. You would not want to look anywhere else, thoughts of running your tongue over every contour making it hard to do anything but smile coquettishly, and he has to chastise you for not pulling such a tempting face. It doesn’t help that every ten minutes or so, he finds himself drawn to you, sidling up to the chaise and pulling you into sweet distracting kisses that throw you entirely off your pose.

As the clock strikes 1 pm, you have to tear yourself away from this remarkable man before the temptation is to hide with him all day. And night. Your heart wanting to throw caution to the wind, to just stay here and damn the consequences to you, your honour, your reputation, and your family.

“Until tomorrow, y/n,” he lilts as his lips linger over yours by the front door, seemingly just as reluctant as you to part.

“I cannot wait,” you breathe, unable to step outside his embrace.

You feel the curl of his smile next to your cheek. “You should know I have finished painting your dress into the portrait. So if you wish to turn up tomorrow in not a stitch of clothing, there will certainly be no complaints from me,” he teases with a rich tone, lips now hot on yours.

“Maybe I just will,” you volley back, feeling featherweight with happiness, “but I would insist you also be naked. Sir.” You are teasing now, knowing how affected he was when you used that honorific yesterday, goading him, giving him every reason to drag you back to his studio, to his bed.

His breath catches, and his gaze is fiery. “Leave now,” he growls, “before I whisk you away, lock you in a tower, and keep you as mine.”

Before you can respond, sway in his arms and dare him to do it, he wrenches the door open and bundles you outside as if the temptation is too great for him too.

The whiplash of the street noise, hubbub, and the bright midday sun is a shock, so you lean back on the door, still trying to absorb everything. “Do it. Please, god, Benedict. Do it. Take me away from everything. You are all I will ever want,” you plead with eyes closed before taking a deep breath and reluctantly moving away….

….Not realising he is also leaning against it on the other side, wistful—and heard exactly what you said.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory

Portrait-only taglist: @mysticwitchcraftco

[catgirlxox]

Hello! I have a question for you! Which of Ben's canon ships do you support the most? (I have a sneaking suspicion it isn't Ben and Kai, but it's just a hunch, y'know.)

Lol and you'd be right

Usually I'd say Eunice because she's arguably the least problematic, if we ignore that whole fandom debate over if she's technically related to Ben or not. But they hardly had any time to actually be a concrete "ship," so it's more of a last resort answer tbh.

I'll say something I don't think I've said on this blog before, and that is that I thought Benlie was actually great in the beginning. I never shipped any pairing hardcore but I mean, I'll admit this is was very cute while it lasted.

(Ben 10: Alien Force - "War of the Worlds")

The problems arose when their separate careers began to take off and take them both into separate directions, which affected the way both of them handled the relationship near it's end. It was made clear that it wasn't going to work out long term, and ultimately, that's okay and that's normal. We are NOT going to start blaming only Ben as is the usual response.

[astarionbae]

Normally I hate being the bad guy and doing a call out post, because let’s be honest, the OC Fandom is already filled with so much and I’m a very relaxed person that lets too many things pass but I just can't handle it anymore. Some of you may know that before I began posting my OC content on here that I did it constantly on Quotev and on there is a user that went by the name of Starlight. Ever since 2018, they had not only give me very passive aggressive comments about what I should write and what not to write regarding my stories, and had made very homophobic comments towards my LGBTQIA+ OC Elektra Ren / Bre Solo Skywalker, but they have stolen a vast majority of my Star Wars OC aspects and plot points, tried to rip off my XCU/MCU OC Ripley, and took my OC manip that I created and posted on my pinterest and pasted their own OC over mine. (and yes, I have MANY receipts with timestamps to prove my case.) Their pattern is this: many months after I create an OC, they use the same faceclaim, use a name that's similar to my oc's—not always, but usually—and gives them aspects and characteristics. At first, I just figured it was by accident but the more and more I noticed that their own ocs were a little too close to mine, that’s when it dawned on me that it was no mistake.

 A good example of this is when I first began creating Elektra / Bre. I was going to use Crystal Reed as her FC until my friend on Quotev suggested Alycia over Crystal. I wanted a Kylo Ren twin sister who was in the First Order with him until she realized that she couldn’t go on being on the wrong side of war and leaving him ultimately for the family she left behind but still can’t help but try and help her brother while trying to save her family. 

Because of this Elektra dynamic I had going on, they badgered me so much over how poorly I written her character on Quotev that it actually got to the point that I ended up hating Elektra and the story Dead Hearts as a whole. And let me just say that I began writing that story after being on a two year hiatus because I literally lost motivation to write and actually do something with my life other than lay in bed all day. So hearing that type of hateful remarks turned me off. 

Next thing I know, a few months after I finished Dead Hearts, Starlight creates a Star Wars OC named Breha Solo Skywalker who is a twin of Kylo Ren’s and leaves the First Order to join the Resistance, and her family. Kinda sounds like Bre’s plot, right? And here’s the kicker; the FC was Crystal Reed.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Kyleigh, a lot of people can have Crystal as a Star Wars OC and name their Kylo Ren twin ocs Breha.” Yeah, I know. I thought that too. Until the other ocs, and more problems, came along . . . 

To summarize . . . (proof in hyperlinks)

My Shadow Preachers OC Cassius Palpatine is the son of the Emperor and FC was Theo James. I got the name Cassius from using Legends as inspo since Jacen goes by the name of Caedus

They created a Palpatine OC with Theo James. 

I updated Cassius’ FC for Shadow Hearts (a revamp / revisit crossover of Shadow Preachers & Dead Hearts) to be Ben Barnes. 

An hour later, they create a Star Wars OC with the FC being Ben Barnes and named him Caedus. 

I created a Calrissian daughter oc for Shadow Preachers whose fc is Zoe Kravitz whose very witty and snarky. 

They created a Zoe Kravitz Calrissian daughter OC. 

I created Ripley Maximoff, FC Shelley Hennig, who is a Mutant X-Men with energy manipulation and mentifery; capable of generating time pockets and accidently portals herself into the MCU—more specifically during Wandavision. 

Starlight suggested to create such x-men mutant oc with portal abilities that ends up in Wandavision with Shelley Hennig as a “potential” candidate for the FC

I made a Nova & Kylo manip specifically for and on pinterest, the picture next to it titled “it was written in the stars.”

They cut Nova out of the manip, pasted their own OC in and titled it “it was written in the stars.”

They stalked me on there, my pinterest, and my tumblr. I have blocked them but somehow, I believe that they won’t stop. 

Again, I don’t like being this person but I rather come out now after years of experiencing this type of slander and borderline harassment if it stops other from experiencing it. If you’d like to block them on tumblr, in the few screenshots I’ve provided, you’ll be able to see their url. 

But that’s all I’m saying. Please, do NOT send them hate. I don’t want that type of drama. I just only did this as a disclaimer and to help other prevent this fate. PLEASE, DO NOT SEND THEM HATE. Thank you. 

[eowyntheavenger]

Refugees arriving in Poland from Ukraine on Monday wait to board buses and trains to take them to Warsaw and Przemysl.

2 million refugees have left Ukraine in 12 days

March 8 (NPR) - More than 2 million Ukrainians have fled their country in the 12 days since Russia began its invasion, according to a tracker from the U.N. refugee agency.

It took a single week for the number of refugees to reach 1 million, on Thursday. That number has increased exponentially, as Russian forces have amped up their shelling of critical and civilian infrastructure.

The 2 million refugees, who are mostly women and children, represent about 4% of Ukraine's population. At least half of them are children, according to UNICEF. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees estimates that some 4 million Ukrainians could flee their homeland as the crisis unfolds.

It says it's working with nonprofits and neighboring countries to "ensure safe access to territory for refugees and third-country nationals fleeing from Ukraine, in line with international standards."

The vast majority of refugees — more than 1 million — have been welcomed by Poland, which borders Ukraine to the west. NPR's Joanna Kakissis reports from Rzeszow that Poland is receiving 100,000 refugees every day, with dozens of reception centers offering hot meals and a place to rest.

Tens of thousands have made their way to Russia, as well as other Eastern European countries like Slovakia, Hungary, Moldova and Romania.

As NPR has reported, not all refugees are getting the same treatment, with students of color from Africa and South Asia saying they faced discrimination at the Polish border. And the warm welcome extended to most Ukrainians lies in stark contrast to the way many of these same countries have treated previous waves of refugees from places like Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Plus, some parts of the world appear more hospitable to Ukrainian refugees than others.

The United States is granting temporary protection from deportation to tens of thousands of Ukrainians already within its borders, while the European Union just introduced similar protections for Ukrainian refugees.

The United Kingdom, however, is facing criticism for granting visas to only 300 Ukrainian refugees so far. That number is up from about 50 on Sunday, the BBC reports.

Refugees seeking a U.K. visa must either have family in the country or a British sponsor for their application. The U.K.'s Home Office says there are some 17,700 family applications in progress.

Some 600 Ukrainians are stuck in the French port of Calais — across the English Channel from Dover — in their efforts to reach the U.K., with the BBC reporting that many say they were turned away for lack of paperwork. British officials said Tuesday that they are opening another French visa application center in Lille, in addition to its primary location in Paris.

Refugee organizations have urged the government to enact fast-track refugee arrangements for Ukrainians fleeing the war.

Prime Minister Boris Johnson rejected calls this week to relax visa requirements for Ukrainians, saying Britain's system is "generous" but requires oversight.

"We are a very, very generous country. What we want though is control and we want to be able to check," he said, according to Euronews. "I think it's sensible given what's going on in Ukraine to make sure that we have some basic ability to check who is coming in."

But Ben Wallace, the defense secretary, told the BBC on Tuesday that the U.K. needs to accelerate the process of verifying refugees' identities and arranging their visas, noting it was able to do so quickly in the past for Afghan refugees. He said his department would help the Home Office in that effort.

"Can I do more, can the government do more, to speed up the processing of visas? Yes they can. Will we be doing it? Absolutely," he said.

Source.

Here are some charities recommended by NPR that you can donate to to help Ukrainian refugees.