#edited slightly for clarity

[skulandcrossbones]

maybe a controversial opinion but i think the "a show with police in it = copaganda so you shouldn't watch it" discourse is. um. stupid and stems from the same line of thinking as "if you watch problematic media then you support problematic things" like idk maybe we should use our brains here. do a lil critical thinking perhaps

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Dave: just ate cranberries

John: like, on their own?

Dave: ya

John: why?

Dave: theres a bag here

Dave: and i ate half of one

Dave: and then i looked up

Dave: can you eat cranberries

Dave: and it said yes

Dave: so i ate like 3 handfuls

John: wait like, you actually looked that up word for word?

Dave: yes

John: did you actually doubt that?

Dave: well ya because

Dave: never saw anyone try

John: ok, fair.

John: that's why i asked why after all.

John: who does that?

John: you, apparently.

Dave: ya

Dave: tastes like cranberry

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

Jamie's Autism Crisis, please and thank you

Jamie's Autism Crisis, my beloved! This one's still in the fairly early stages, but here's the plot description from my notes on this fic:

After discovering a fan-made compilation of his autistic moments, Jamie begins to suspect that the people trying to diagnose him over the internet might be right. As AFC Richmond travels across Europe for the Champions' League, he grapples with his self-perception, the impact of his upbringing, and his tentative reconnection with his father, and finds unexpected common ground with Roy.

And some assorted plot points (not necessarily in order):

Jamie takes a PR opportunity to hang out with autistic kids, asks the teacher about autism and panics when he realizes he fits the actual diagnostic criteria

Visits James in rehab, who tries to guilt trip him (you're playing so well now, guess you don't need me anymore) and makes snide remarks about how he behaves in interviews

Worried and self-conscious that he's acting obviously neurodivergent, Jamie starts masking more at training/in public; Roy corners him for a conversation and they have a recognition of the self through the other moment

Ted and Jamie + sorting out the role of different communication styles in their relationship (especially ~season 1) and the failure to meet/identify different needs

Maybe also bonding with Colin over queer version of the same problem, ie accidentally hostile workplace

[saucylittlesmile]

I only started watching ice dance after the move to the +5 GOE system - can you share what you mean (I know it was tongue in cheek!) by tech used to mean something?

Oh boy, let’s see if I’ve got it in me to give the kind of long and in-depth answer that I used to without getting too sidetracked lol.

To start off, let me say I think that the ISU is very happy with this turn of events - it’s a return to the shady dealings of the 6.0 with the aura of legitimacy of CoP.

Naturally, my expertise mostly comes from the VM era, which was entirely before the +5/-5 era. While the current shenanigans in ice dance cannot be completely attributed to the change in GOE, it is probably the most obvious and egregious component.

The ISU started the process of dumbing down the tech with slowly removing the compulsory dance, lessening the number of difficult steps and turns in some step sequences, reducing the number of lifts, and increasing the number of ‘choreographic’ elements (which have some basic rules and requirements but overall are based on the judge’s decisions as to what they like).

They also reduced the worth of earning a level - not the literal value, as that can change from season to season and does not matter when comparing across competitions, but between teams at the same competition, whose results could be determined by small increments. For example, a level 4 step sequence used to have a base value of 8.00, and a level 3 was a base value of 6.50 - 1.50 points difference. Now (using Worlds 2023), a base value level 4 step sequence is 8.96 and a true level 3 is 8.20 - only 0.76 points!

Not only has that important earned level been reduced in points, it used to be that both members of the team had to achieve a level 4 to get rewarded a level 4. Now, with each skater being evaluated individually, the point differential can be lessened even more if one of them achieves a higher level.

A 1.5 point base value difference between teams used to be a death knell, if they were considered to be teams fairly equal otherwise in a competition. There was simply no way to make up that deficit, and so it was crucial to be achieving the highest level on every element, to be technically impeccable.

Watching the slow motion fall of the technical side of ice dance was difficult. Watching the ISU create the +5/-5 GOE for the sport on the whole, with no regard for how it would affect ice dance, was downright painful.

In theory, singles and pairs can increase their difficulty to achieve a higher score. Of course, they are still at the mercy of what points their element is worth, but they still have the option. Ice dance, on the other hand is limited by levels - no matter how difficult an element is, they cannot increase their scores beyond a level 4. The GOE descriptions do not give extra for ‘hey that was so hard!’. Teams can get the same, or even more points for elements that just barely fulfill the requirements but are pretty and smooth and fast, as teams that stretch the imagination of what can happen while still following the rules, with great feats of strength or balance or flexibility or edges. It really does not make any difference in the points earned. Twizzles do not earn more points if they do a different edge or more revolutions - they simply fulfill level 4 requirements, or they don’t.

Being hemmed in by technical point restrictions and in which even the difference between levels is minimal, means that the judges’ GOE and PCS is almost the sole deciding factor in any event. The judges may have bullet points for the categories as to what is acceptable, but they also have an incredible amount of leeway and face little to no repercussions to hiking up their points for whatever team or country they want, and the +5/-5 GOE makes it achievable.

One of the reasons I answered this now was the results of the GPF 2023. With the understanding that I have not watched the competition and can’t speak to the details, the points speak for themselves. In particular, the top two teams were deemed to have the same technical content in the free dance. But, the sixth place team was also said to have that same technical content. The base value was the same. And yet, on the basis of GOE and PCS, all from the judges, rather than being in contention for a medal, the sixth place team was deemed to be more than 11 points behind silver. Even taking out PCS (which here was significant) there was still 6.34 points between silver and sixth place - that is over six points in GOE alone and rendered their technical accomplishments moot

To give some comparison, look at Skate Canada 2016. VM lost the FD to Chock/Bates, and almost entirely on lost levels. They had identical levels except for one step sequence and their twizzles. Overall, the judges gave the GOE edge to VM - they beat CB in every element for GOE except for one choreographic element in which they tied, and in the twizzles. (They even had higher GOE on their lower level step sequence, though factoring the level and GOE together gave them fewer points.) VM beat CB soundly in PCS (+2 points!). The overall GOE was simply not enough to make up for amount of points they lost by losing those levels.

VM had the advantage in almost every way. And they still lost the FD, because they had a twizzle error, and a single missed edge or turn in one step sequence.

And that is what I mean by tech used to mean something.

tl;dr - the ISU has created an ice dance world in which the Chosen Team will do very well and it doesn’t matter if they can’t skate.

[actualmanedrasa]

i redressed Vrillon shes soooo normal

[firecoloredwater]

(This got VERY long and accidentally morphed into a fic. The fic starts with Fax's massacre of Lessa's family and her resulting trauma, and also touches on not-quite-real-world climate anxiety, so caution reading.)

I've thought a few times about how I would rewrite Dragonflight if I were going to, how I'd streamline the plot (merge Fax and Meron, to start) and tweak characterization (F'lar can act basically the same if he's, like, 17 instead of 20-something).

But the fundamental crack at the heart of Dragonflight which I've never been able to resolve is Lessa. Because there are two things which are fundamental truths to Lessa.

The first truth is this: she is Lessa of Ruatha. She is the only survivor of a massacre, the last rightful heir to the kingdom, and she raised herself on those truths. She is, literally, a secret princess disguising herself with filth in order to hide from danger as a kitchen servant. But that's misleading, because those fairytale princesses she shares the shape of just want to escape abuse and live in peace. Lessa is actually the lost prince of a conquered land, come home to slay the tyrant that murdered her father and retake her rightful place as king Lady Holder.

The second truth is this: Lessa of Ruatha must abandon Ruatha, in order to become Lessa of Ramoth, of Benden, of Pern, and save the world.

And she can't know why she needs to go, or that she'll save the world in doing so, because if she knew what she was going to do we wouldn't have a full plot of Lessa figuring out time travel and that she needs to bring the Weyrs forward. You can make it a bit better by letting Lessa actually know what a Weyrwoman is, rather than thinking she's probably going to be F'lar's mistress, but she still has no reason to abandon Ruatha, especially not in favor of Fax's son.

I think, to fix it, Jaxom can't be Fax's son.

Lessa was the youngest of a large family. She had several older brothers and sisters; say around eight kids, average 2.5 turns between them, and even if Lessa was only four when Fax arrived, the oldest would have been around eighteen. But I will, for this purpose, say Lessa was ten, and the oldest were in their twenties.

A family that large, with a few kids grown or nearly so, whose hereditary job involves diplomacy, won't all be at home most of the time. They'll be out checking on important industries, visiting allies, sent to a Hall like the noble girls that will someday give Menolly so much trouble, or sent for fostering like those girls' boyfriends. Given the alliance-building use of fostering and Fax's having already taken over several Holds before Ruath Hold, it would be the obvious thing for Lessa's father to have sent one of his teenage sons to Fax for fostering.

Lessa doesn't think about that. She's ten, and she has just watched her entire family be slaughtered. She is hiding in the watch-wher's den, in shock and terrified. She does not think of it until a few days later, when one of Fax's men drags in a mangled body with hair the same color as her brother's, dumps it beside the rest, and declares the job complete.

Lessa's body is there too, of course, or else there surely would have been a search thorough enough to find her. There was a search, but before Lessa they found a servant's daughter of about the right age and description with a face a touch more Ruathan-typical than Lessa's own, and so the search ended.

Lessa is terrified that Fax or his men might realize their mistake. But no one in Ruatha is much inclined to tell Fax or his men anything they might not want to hear. And Lessa, without knowing it, is the most powerful telepath Pern has seen in generations. Even without intention, her desperation to remain undetected is enough to exert pressure on the minds around her.

No one identifies the servant girl. No one looks in the watch-wher's den. No noise that comes from the den sounds like a human child. No one wonders why, in the evenings, someone feels the need to leave human-suitable food near the watch-wher's den, or where it vanishes to before morning.

When Lessa finally emerges, no one wonders where this new servant girl came from. No one questions her soft hands or fancy speech or condescending attitude. They snap at her for being unskilled, and give her the hardest, simplest work, and think no more of it.

It takes weeks, months, for Lessa's shock and horror to settle enough to allow fury to emerge in more than flashes. It takes years for her to work out any plan more specific than survive, and make him pay. It also takes years, though perhaps not quite as many, for her to notice the pressure she can exert on other people without their notice, and to learn to do it intentionally.

By the time Lessa is twenty, Ruatha develops a reputation for being cursed. What grows there grows poorly. What few crafters remain seem to lose their skill. And there are the accidents: rockfalls, impossible fires, drunken fights that turn deadly, all manner of things which can kill, and often do. The more highly-placed a man is (or a woman, though few women can be described in such terms in Fax's Holds) the more accidents seem to find him.

There is weight in the air of Ruatha: the weight of grief, of hatred, of fury, of pain. A constant pricking on the back of the neck; the scent of blood perpetually half-imagined. Healers advise those with poor hearts to avoid Ruatha if possible, or if a visit is necessary, to leave quickly: something there makes the heart race and strain, and given time, a weak one will fail.

But that's not going to stop F'lar!

F'lar is 17, superior, young enough that he has never yet failed, and frantic with terror in his own way. Even a teenage bronzerider outranks all people but more senior bronzeriders (though every bronzerider is F'lar's senior), and F'lar wears both his power and his arrogance like a gaudy cape: he sneers, he orders, he demands, he pushes, and those who are preoccupied with anger and frustration about his attitude--which is nearly everyone he meets--rarely wonder why he demands the things he does, why he is so obnoxious as to stop and ask drudges idle questions about the weather and the upkeep of the Hold.

The truth is, F'lar is arrogant. His father was wiser, but his father is dead, and so F'lar is the smartest man in the world, and never wrong. He considers any behavior other than giving him what he wants to be obstructionism, all people to be his inferiors, and inferior people behaving in obstructionist ways to be the worst possible transgression. As such, he dislikes nearly everyone he meets, and enjoys needling, insulting, and upsetting them. His status makes retaliation impossible.

The truth is also this: F'lar sees the apocalypse coming, and he does not know how to stop it. He has read about how threadfall will consume the planet, and with it all of Pern's people. He knows how many dragons are needed to guard the planet, and how small a fraction of that number currently live. He has watched the Red Star grow nearer, and he has listened to every adult dismiss him with the insistence that it's not that bad, there's nothing to fear, there is no danger coming, and so nothing should be done.

F'lar's father died, and left to him the duty of saving the world. F'lar has never failed before, and he clings to that fact with the same desperation that Lessa clings to Ruatha, and all its recent history.

F'lar is searching for candidates, for the future Weyrwoman and future riders, but he is also searching for allies and scouring every Hold he passes through for its prevailing attitudes and common knowledge. Do the crafters' sons know the Ballad of Moreta? Do the farmers have enough children to weed the fields as thoroughly as they ought? You there, drudge--what do you think of this grass among the paving stones?

He is not pleased by the answers.

F'nor is older, but he calls himself sixteen. He follows F'lar loyally, as a younger brother ought, as a wingsecond must. He goes where F'lar points and does what F'lar asks, and no one questions his motives: as a loyal wingsecond and little brother, he is motivated only by obedience. No one questions, either, when he finds the free time to put on a charming smile and chat with the girls near his age. Did many of the herdbeasts have twins this spring? How has the fishing been; more storms than usual again this turn? That outbreak of illness he heard of in the next Hold over, have the healers gotten it under control yet?

It is true that F'nor is loyal to his father's favored son, and follows F'lar's orders without complaint. That does not make his obedience thoughtless, nor does it mean he lacks his own initiative.

And so they wind through Fax's holds. Here and there, they pick up people as they go: some on Fax's orders, some on F'lar's. Sometimes there is disagreement, in which case F'lar's preference wins, but sometimes things align perfectly, as with a couple they overtook on the road to Ruatha: young man and pregnant wife, with an old runnerbeast and their life packed into a cart. If F'lar insists the young man is a strong candidate (enough that an exception may be made for his age), and wishes to take him to the Weyr, the couple will have to leave all their belongings behind in Ruatha. Fax is hardly inclined to refuse.

The young couple, of course, join the party for their own reasons.

Fax and F'lar do not think of this. F'nor does, and speaks to the couple with smiles and offers to reason with F'lar on their behalf should they find that they hate life in the Weyr. He concludes that they had no plans, that a future in the Weyr is as good as any, and that the common people are rarely inclined to argue with men such as F'lar.

And so the party reaches Ruatha, last of all Fax's Holds, as Fax had hoped that F'lar would find what he was looking for elsewhere and leave before the visit become necessary. Fax keeps his guards close: meat shields in case of accidents.

The visit goes much the same as in canon. Oh, it differs in the details, in the people present and the conversations they have, but Ruatha is still a place of bad food and worse feelings. Fax is tense, irritable, angry, and F'lar loves to needle.

But some details are critical. Gemma, who breaks an argument despite her best efforts by going into labor, is the wife of the young couple. As she is not Fax's wife, this pauses the argument, but does not resolve it, and under the pressure of Lessa's will, it soon resumes.

But F'lar is a dragonrider. For years, he has lived with Mnementh as a presence and pressure on his mind; he is well used to acting only on his own will, and not on the stray thoughts of others. And so it is not him that breaks and initiates a duel. Nor is it Fax, who is less resistant to Lessa's will but deeply fearful of this malevolent place, and unwilling to leave the circle of his guards over insults that F'lar has been provoking him with this entire trip.

It is the young man who steps forward, shaking with his own and Lessa's will, and announces himself as Lokan, a surviving son of the late Ruathan Lord, and the rightful ruler of Ruath Hold.

It is, of course, Lessa that allows her brother to win. Fax is a powerful, experienced figher, and Lokan cannot match him.

But Lessa is there. She drags pebbles under Fax's heel, clouds his mind, and slows his reactions. In the end Lokan is wounded, but Fax is dead, and Ruath Hold belongs once more to Ruathan blood.

F'lar is reluctant to let his star candidate go, but if F'lar were to deny Lokan's claim to Ruatha, Lokan would have to be executed. Besides, Fax was no use to F'lar, and the lord holders that replace him might be, and so F'lar declares the Weyr's recognition of Lokan as the rightful Lord Holder of Ruatha. Fax's men are sent away with minimal bloodshed, though perhaps a few accidents.

Lessa reveals herself to her brother, and Gemma survives the birth of her and Lokan's son. Perhaps he is named Jaxom; perhaps his parents name him instead after Lessa, or Lokan's murdered father, or Gemma's father, who saved Lokan's life years ago.

F'lar seeks out Lessa, to her complete disinterest. But Lokan, while in hiding, was in a completely different sort of hiding than she was. He was warned and spirited away by minor holders, allies of their father. In addition to being much older than Lessa when their family was killed, he still had access to harpers and lessons while in hiding, and he understands politics. He encourages Lessa to go to the Weyr, as a Weyrwoman would wield political power and be able to back Ruatha's recovery in a way no other ally could.

It is a brief day, perhaps two, of relief and joy, before Lokan's wounds develop an infection. Less than a week after reclaiming his Hold, he dies.

His son is only days old, but still the rightful heir, and Lessa will never want to interfere. Lady Gemma becomes regent. As she expected and trained to be Lady of Ruatha while it recovered, she is well prepared despite her grief.

Lessa, victorious and devastated and reeling, follows her brother's wishes to the Weyr, and the promise of power that she can use to protect her nephew and sister-in-law.

She will, of course, find the power to do much more than that.

[showfallmanagement]

Party!!

Feel free to come up and chat!! I'm the one with the same exact suit as everyone else and the giant glowing circlet mounted onto the back of my head 😊

[martyrbat]

[ID: a Tiktok by Sim Kern, who's speaking to the camera. They say: “GoFundMe keeps freezing the accounts of people who successfully raised tens of thousands of dollars for people in Gaza, preventing the transfer of money and I want to talk about why and how you can fix it. I have an amazing contact at GoFundMe, Janet, who's been helping four of the campaigns I've boosted that have run into this problem. She's helped us resolve them and she sent me a detailed list of all the reasons these campaigns are getting frozen and how people can protect their campaigns from having that happen. So, if you're an organizer or a beneficiary or someone like me who boosts these fundraisers, please listen to this information. And if you're anyone else, please listen and interact with this video so that we can spread this message far and help more people, cause I'm sure that a lot of people fundraising in Gaza are running into this issue—and yes, my voice is weird, it's because I'm ill.

So, the main reason that GoFundMe accounts get flagged and frozen is when people transfer money to someone who's not named in the GoFundMe campaign. And there's a lot of legitimate reasons for this—very few people in Gaza had international bank accounts set up before this all started—where they could get international wire transfers, like directly to their phone. And so many of them are having to get their money wired through a cousin in Egypt or like a neighbor in their tent city who like, happens to have a bank account set up like that and they're willing to like, get the money and transfer it to them.

You have to put that level of detail into the GoFundMe page, okay everyone? Whoever the money is gonna pass through, if it's going to take 2 to 3 to 4 to 5 people to get to the beneficiary, you have to list out all those people and the process of how the money is going to get to the beneficiary. That's the main, main thing.

Now, if you haven't done that and your accounts get frozen and you get flagged by GoFundMe, then you're going to get an email saying the account's been frozen and they're gonna email you a link. It's just going to be a link somewhere in that email where you have to respond and provide documentation proving that you're legit. It used to be you could just email support at GoFundMe, but now that is an unmonitored mailbox—apparently they got overwhelmed at the support mailbox. So now you can only use that link that was sent to you in your email ticket to get these issues resolved. If that happens, they're gonna want you to send them all your, like, receipts, screenshots, or whatever of your bank transfers and also receipts of how money has been spent. If money has been transferred already from wherever the organizer lives to Gaza, then you need to show how that money has been spent in Gaza and it needs to match what it said in the GoFundMe. So, for example—and this is really tough, right? Because they're like—it's hard to get a receipt, it's impossible to get a receipt in Gaza! But GoFundMe understands that, you know, like Janet said they're flexible—you just have to make an attempt to documentation.

So like, if you raise your money for evacuation funds but then you ended up spending $1,000 on a tent, just write down somewhere or put a note in your phone, ‘spent $1,000 on a tent.’ And then do an update to the GoFundMe saying, you know, ‘Things have changed—I had to spend $1,000 on a tent,’ or, ‘I used some of the money this week to buy formula and diapers and food.’ However you're spending the money, you have to put updates with that information in the GoFundMe itself. And then keep a record for yourself of how you're spending the money, because if your account gets frozen you have to email them and say, ‘I spent this much on this, I spent this much on this, I spent this much on this.’

And then the money has to add up to the total. So let's say you've had $4,000 transferred to you and you spend $1,000 on a tent, right? And you're just saving the $3,000 that's left for future expenses. Well, when you email GoFundMe Accounting for your information, you have to say, ‘I spent a $1,000 on a tent, I'm saving $3,000 for future expenses,’ okay? It has to add up to the $4,000. And it has to add up exactly to the dollars and cents. So like, I used an example that's like, whole numbers—of course it's not gonna be like whole numbers, right? So if the amount you have left over is like 4,392 dollars and 63 cents, you have to say, ‘I'm saving this amount exactly for future expenses.’ ‘Future living expenses,’ actually, is what Janet said to say.

You also have to be specific and provide not just the name of the person but also the city that they're in. And I know this is ridiculous because everyone's been displaced, but you can't just put Gaza if you're sheltering in Rafa or Deir al-Balah or Gaza City. You have to put this specific place where everyone who's going to be touching this money is residing. And apparently, this is because GoFundMe has a list of known [quote] ‘terrorists’ [unquote] that they are checking the fundraisers against. So you have to put the full name and the city in Gaza of each person who's going to touch this money.

Organizers who are actually collecting the money to be, you know, transferred overseas need to know as much detail as possible about the families they're supporting. They should know the full names, cities, and ages of all beneficiaries. So that means not just people who touch the money, but all the people the money is going to from the central family member in Gaza. And the organizer should know the names, emails, phone numbers, and social media for as many of those beneficiaries as possible.

To recap, the best way to prevent your account from getting flagged is to make sure that anyone who is going to be touching the money is named in the GoFundMe itself—with their name and the city that they're in. And then if you do get flagged, the two main things you're gonna have to do to get out of trouble is prove that the money was transferred—so you're going to need proof of the bank transfers, the wire transfers. And then proof that the money was spent on what the fundraiser said you would use it for—so you protect yourself in that case by keeping track of whatever you're spending money on and updating your GoFundMe as the situation changes with what you're spending the money on. And if you haven't spent all of it, if you're saving some of it for future expenses, say that in account for that when you reply to GoFundMe.

I also want to clarify that I'm not an organizer, I get messages all the time from people asking me how do I organize a fundraiser for a family in Gaza, how do I vet them to make sure they're legit. Y'all, I don't know. I don't have personal contacts in Palestine, I don't—I can't do that. I just been boosting the fundraisers that were vetted by Operation Olive Branch or other, you know, Palestinian people I directly know and trust, because I can't do that on my own because I don't have those connections or that savvy. But hopefully these tips from Janet will help all of y'all to resolve any frozen GoFundMe accounts that you run in to.”

The camera shifts so that Sim is in front of a GoFundMe page for Sana Adhab. Sim continues to talk: “And I feel so bad that because I've been sick and my kids are out of school now, I really haven't been able to make as much content over the last week or so to help Sana meet her fundraiser goals. We're almost there—I think it's actually at 86,000 now. I'd really like to help her raise all the money she needs by the end of this week. We are doing another giveaway of assigned first edition author copy of my book, ‘The Free Peoples Village’. You can win this book just by donating at least $5 or as much as you are able to the campaign. That's the first link in the fundraiser tab in my bio. And then you'll send a screenshot of that receipt to t4Gaza at Gmail dot com to be entered to win the book giveaway. There are so many thousands of people who have been, you know, organizing to raise money for people in Gaza and all of you are amazing and I love you and you're my much Baha.” END ID]

Sana Adhab GoFundMe

From the great @sim_bookstagrams_badly on Instagram:

Why people keep landing in GFM jail and how to get out of it. Please spread far and wide!

[feistyvampire]

“I haven’t spent much time in Fibonacci before, wonder what the commute time and cost is like from here to other wards. I never thought to invest in a car to get around if this happened. But I definitely need to get some stuff sorted out now that I’m back here.”

[jeongin-lvr]

ॱ🌸 ༘ ◝ no control, s. jaeyun

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱ 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍，𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋，𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ＆ 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗋��� 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗌，𝖽𝗋𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾，𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗉 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 (𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗉)，𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇，𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌. EDITED.

[ 𝟣．𝟨𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ] ☆ [ 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 ] ☆ [ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ]

YOU'D BOTH AGREED that you'd take things slow. Keep the physicality of everything out of the way and just appreciate each other. And so far you've done great! The furthest you've ever gone has only ever been wandering hands and sloppy kisses. But there was always a moment of clarity between the two of you— be patient, be cool, relax. And usually that was enough.

You'd end the make out, calmly sinking into each other's arms or resuming whatever activity you two were doing.

However... now that it's month 4 of your relationship you feel almost feral just from touching him. The two of you are getting antsy; wandering hands squeezing flesh for too long and cuddling turned into sloppy grinding. You'd press your hands to his chest and remind him— patience. But, fuck, Jake was tired of being patient and he could tell you were too. The way you bit your lip and stared up at him, god, he could just ruin you.

So he'd groan but comply, still not wanting to rush either of you. This relationship was special to him. He has no intention of ruining any of it all because he can't keep his dick in his pants.

Though there was one night when the two of you just simply couldn't control your urges. Laid down together in bed with the covers over your thighs, his body hovering over yours as his lips meshed with yours. Again and again, the flavor of your chapstick and the scent of his cologne invaded both of your senses. Your nails clawed into his hair, raking through the tangles again and again; each time he'd let out the most indecent, beautiful groans. Filling your mouth, you swallowed each one like water. His hands roaming over your body, underneath the shirt you wore, just barely up the cusp of your bra. He'd softly squish the flesh in his hands and hesitantly draw them away. He stopped himself but it was a fucking challenge.

And just like that a verbal agreement was tossed out the window when he broke the kiss, your beautiful eyes boring into his, eyebrows furrowed— you were pleading with him.

“Jake— fuck, just do it—"

He felt his dick jump in his trousers, your eyes watery with pleas, "What?"

"Just the tip— I need you," You shook your head as you spoke, lifting your hips just slightly up to his. You felt how badly he wanted you; the bulge in his jeans making that fact obvious. Jake didn't need to be told twice; he's been waiting for this, for your permission to finally have you. He was determined to make the strenuous wait worth it for both of you and his first goal was to give into your exact desires right now.

"Just the tip," He promised in a slight groan, his eyes fanned over your body once before he smirked— his grin was perfect and you could tell he was fighting the urge to simply go wild. You huffed out a sigh of pleasure as his fingers came to pull down your shorts, also hooking in your panties and tugging them down to your knees. You helped the rest of the way and kicked them off a little too eagerly, making him chuckle. The cold air hit your body like a ton of brick and you shivered, nails still digging into his back as you did so.

Jake took a good look at your slick pussy, wondering how he'd gone without it for so long. Now that he's seen it— hell, now that he's getting to feel you, he's not sure he's ever gonna be able to go without it.

Jake fumbled with his jeans, your fingers doing the same. Desperate evident in both of your movements. He needed this and so did you.

"Just the tip—" Jake repeated like a mantra. He was definitely trying to convince himself that he could totally handle that. Was it working? Maybe. He spread your thighs slowly, lifting your knees to your chest with a slow, yearning grunt. Pulling his boxers down with one hand, his dick sprung free in an instant, the tip just barely slipping against your clit. Your whined, mouth agape and nails pressed deeply into the skin of his shoulder blades. Jake groaned, sweat already trickling down the sides of your head, slipping onto your chest.

"I want this so badly, Jake, please." You begged louder, continuously looking into his eyes. He really couldn't take the eye contact anymore. He needed this just as desperately so he angled his cock to your entrance, feeling the warmth radiating onto his cock from your ecstasy like an invitation. He nodded, pushing himself in slowly. The warm chasm you offered for him almost too inviting— too perfect. He wanted to mold your insides to fit his dick perfectly like a puzzle; the way your walls hugged him he knew he was already halfway there.

He stilled, keeping his promise, "Ffuckk, just the t-tip."

You panted at the strength of his thick head. You could feel how hard he was. Your eyes trained in on where your bodies connected; the few remaining inches of his dick making you want more. You didn't feel full enough of him yet— the tip wasn't enough. You whined, needing all of him now.

Your fingers entwined with his hair, twisting his head upward as your lips grazed his each time you spoke, "More... moreee."

Jake shook his head, "Just the t-tip— you said just the tip!" His voice wavered and shook. He felt like he wasn't just convincing you but also himself. It was nearly impossible for his eyes to focus right now as cloudy starlight fanned over his vision. But from what he could see, your eyes were tear ridden and your lips pouty, swollen from the kisses prior to this absolute mess. He wasn't sure how long he could take this beauty of yours before he was delirious.

"No, no, baby, need more," You were practically pleading. Praying to him as your fingernails raked against his scalp, making him hiss with slight pain, "Need all of you! I can't— I just need to feel all of you."

Jake was about to open his mouth again, not sure if he had anything important to say at all, when he felt your legs wrap tightly around his waist, calves at the lower part of his back. You pushed him closer to you, another inch pushing into your aching walls. Jake cursed, slowly his words falling into a aimless whine.

"Oh my god—" He lolled his head backward, avoiding your face because right now he was sure he'd finish embarrassingly early. "Fuck, screw this..." Jake looked back down at you, your body still struggling to push him deeper into where you needed him most. Jake positioned his hands at your plush hips and allowed himself to sink himself deep into your hole in one, swift movement. You moaned like a song, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him invade your walls, deeply snuggled in your heat. Jake huffed, panting now as his hands surrounded each side of your head in a cage.

"Needed this so bad— needed you," He groaned as your legs stayed tight around his waist, keeping him deep inside of you. Jake looped his bicep under your thigh, rolling his hips into you, feeling how tightly you squeezed him just simply out of pleasure.

You nodded, "Me too— me too, keep going," Your voice was soft now, little whimpers falling past your lips as your body reacted instantly to his shallow thrusts into you.

Shallow thrusts soon became deep, long strokes into you. The girth of his cock being felt with every push into you; the weight and curve of his tip poking so nicely into you. You whimpered with every lovely slapping sound from your colliding bodies. Jake didn't care about hiding the pleasure he was feeling. You could read it on his face and listen to it in the waver of his moans. He let them all out for you to hear and you soaked up every single one. Wet squelches pulsed out of your body the more lost the two of you god in your own need, paired with the sinful slapping of his pelvis on the back of your thighs— you both regretted not doing this sooner.

Screw being patient and waiting till the two of you were sure. What does that even mean anyway? This moment was too hot to think clearly, sweat sharing between bodies. Jake bent to your lips, continuing to make out with you sloppily as the two of you had before. The only difference now being that he was fucking you so good. Pure desperation in every penetrative thrust forward.

Your orgasm came a little early— the months of built up patience spilling out of you and around his dick in a nasty, white ring at the base of his cock. You mewled like a cat, back arching off the sweat-covered, damp bed. The sheets entangled around the two of you sticky and messy, unkempt corners of the bedsheets coming off from the force of the two of your movements.

"Ah, ah, ah— where do I cum?" Jake asked as your orgasm fizzled out, now leaving you lost in post orgasm haze. Your ears ringing and eyes slowly blinking. You didn't answer, overstimulated as he kept fucking into you— then he was pulling out, leaving you empty and a little bit saddened. His hot load spewing over your stomach and chest in disgusting, almost endless spurts.

Your boyfriend collapsed next to you in the bed, chest rising and falling quicker than your mind was thinking. There was silence as the two of you came to your senses.

"What was all that talk about.... Taking it slow?" Jake chuckled breathlessly, turning his head to you with apple colored cheeks and a pleased grin.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Big Spoon

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Who knew he'd wake up bleary-eyed to find her a mess, one that was out of her control and his - or so he thought.

Genre: Fluffish

Warnings: None (just mentions of sad puppies)

Word Count: 1.3 k

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

"What are you doing?" He sat up, squinting at his lover who was sitting with her headphones on, blasting God knows what at 2 am. Good lord, no wonder the bed seemed so lonely and-

"Why are you awake?" She snapped at him, causing him to flinch, his little pout and amusing bed hair had her mentally scolding herself for the outburst, he was sitting there half asleep, half awake, though completely ready to get to the bottom of this mystery. She took a deep breath before biting her lip and mumbling, "S-sorry, I didn't mean to sound mean, client called and Hongjoong needed more photos so I uh...got up to do it now so I won't have to do it later- just because that lady's rich. " Turning the chair to face him she winced slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice it, though how would it be Choi San if he didn't?

"What's wrong?" He asked pushing the covers off as he sat at the edge of the bed, feet planted on the cold floor. The moment of clarity allowed him to notice the small hot water bottle on her lap, and the cup of green tea in front of her beside a giant flask and a tissue box- "Were you crying?" He cooed, getting up to go closer only for her to whine and roll her chair back, keeping her distance.

"Hey, come on." He pouted before jumping at her causing her to gasp, only to realise he had held onto the armrests of her chair, locking her in place, "What happened?"

"I-it...nothing." She mumbled, averting her gaze, in no real mood for anything at the moment, she just wanted to finish editing these photos and- "Does it hurt here?" He asked, gently placing his palm against her belly, causing her to whine and try to push it away, only for him to shake his head  and remove his hand, instead using it to cup her cheek, "Let me guess, you got the call, they asked you for something that makes no sense, and shark week hit mid brooding session?"

Her eyes widened by the end of his little monologue, as she nodded, staring at him in awe like a little girl who had just met a fairy, well, he was a fairy, a rather feline-looking fairy she could call her own. Elegant, yet endearing, soft and warm yet as solid as a rock, smart yet, just a little dumb- either way, he was her pretty, cute, little fairy- though if he heard this analogy he'd probably be throwing a fit for days, claiming he was anything BUT A FAIRY- he was, as he'd like to call himself and his bros (minus Wooyoung because frankly she had realised he was the only sensible one in the lot)  A KING!

"How did you know?" Her lips quirked upwards when he leaned closer to place a soft kiss atop her head, a gesture that would oddly make her all putty in his hands.

"Because I'm the world's best boyfriend." His voice boomed across the quiet room causing her to cover her ears due to heightened sensitivity, before frowning up at him

"The world's best boyfriend missed one thing though."

His shoulders deflated at the statement, and he flopped backwards on the bed dramatically, his back landing with a loud huff, "And what is that?"

"I was crying cause- " her breath hitched as the memories resurfaced,  "Some dogs go through depression and this puppy did too- I was watching the video and it was so sad...Sannie" she whined, calling him out for God knows but the flashing images of the puppy and the stupid client's appeal just bothered her even more, the cherry on top was the excruciating pain that was a constant reminder of how the world is too cruel to women.

Not a moment later she was gently pulled out of her chair, engulfed in a warm embrace as his familiar scent enveloped her senses, work left behind, as she felt the soft, warm pillow- nope that was his arm, "My head's heavy," with a small mumble she tried to move, but he clicked his tongue and pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head, "And my heart is heavy....my poor baby is in so much physical and emotional pain and I can't do anything about it-"

"We're never getting a puppy."

"I- um...okay?" He mused, giving her a gentle squeeze, of course, that one video of the sad puppies would make her come up with this verdict, possibly fuelled by her hormones. Making her laugh right now probably wasn't the easiest task, which is why he resorted to asking her the real question, though gentle toned and carefully curated, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on her back as he approached the topic, "I thought you sent the client all they asked for, did they want something out of the contract?"

With a loud huff she began, only to pause for a moment when another cramp hit, her fingers gripping his shirt as she took a deep breath before speaking (venting), "Apparently some of the guests, who refused to take solos then, now want their solo pics because the others who did get their solos taken got good results- like flattery will get you nowhere, I can't pull out your solo pics from my as-ah shit, " she hissed, trying to move, "I need my heating pad." He was quicker than her, jumping over her, letting out a hearty laugh when he heard her squeak and let out a few vulgar words. As quick and agile as a cat he hopped back on the bed, turning her on her back as he placed it on her lower belly, "There, all better?"

Nodding she placed her hands on the pad, pressing it against her skin before sighing, continuing, "Anyway, someone was like oh can you like crop us out and put us somewhere to turn it into our logo- you mean cut you out and paste the image, spend time blending, shading, fixing the highlights- no, because its not in the contract and I'm not being paid more for this."

"I...wow..." he mumbled, running his fingers through her hair soothingly as he sat beside her, looking down at her only to notice her trembling power lip and glossy eyes, "What's...wrong...baby, you don't have to do anything that wasn't under your contract." He hummed, tracing his fingertips over the slightly warmer skin of her forehead absentmindedly, "You want me to talk to -"

"That puppy was so sad, he looked like he wanted to cry and..." Turning to her side, as she closed her eyes, the rush of emotions getting a bit to strong, the tears leaking through her clenched eyes, hugging herself. This was stupid, she had ruined his sleep, woke him up in the middle of the night, snapped at him, told him stories that were irrelevant and then ended up crying about a video on puppies.

"I like being the big spoon."

Oh- that's why she felt so warm, and-

"How is laying on top of me the bigger spoon, you're crushing me."

"I'm protecting you from the bad vibes. Told you Hongjoong as a boss sucks, man's a capitalist monster."

With a sigh she relaxed in his hold, the added weight actually helping with the pain, both, physical and psychological.

"To sleep, you should stop thinking, leave your worries, for tomorrow's you." He sighed, giving her another squeeze, though he didn't recieve any response to his wise words, he could get them printed, "You asleep?" He whispered peeking over her shoulder only to smile,  two hours, they'd been awake for two hours, listening to God knows what she was going through, biological and induced. Either way, he was glad that she had the world's best boyfriend, he'd probably boast about this tomorrow to her, when she's in a better mood, when she's well rested and probably complaining once again, about how Hongjoong finding the dumbest, but richest clients. Need not worry, she'd always have someone loyal, sincere and the best big spoon out there- all her's.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky

[phantomarine]

Clam's Quick Tips for Starting Your Very First Webcomic

Howdy! Here are the three bits of advice I tend to give people who ask me about getting into webcomic-making. Maybe they can help you jump into the fray with a little less fear.

1) Make Your First Chapter a Pilot Episode

You will be told by webcomic veterans to start with a short, simple comic idea first - which is wise - but if all you can think about is your big magnum opus, then you might as well hop in, right? Otherwise you'll just be glancing back at the other cooler project forever.

But if you can't start with a small simple story, start on a small, simple part of that larger story. Your first chapter should be a snapshot of the main conflict - show us a simple scene with few characters, ease us in slowly, keep things clear and focus on emotion/impact/clarity. Get the audience to care by offering something easily digested, but full of promise.

Once you're done with that 'pilot' chapter, and you're feeling more comfortable with the whole comic process, you can open the gates and show us the larger world. At that point, you'll be way more ready.

2) Simplify Your Art Style For Your Own Sanity

Always try to make your webcomic's art style as simple as possible - the standard rule is to use only 75% of your artistic skill for every comic page you make. Otherwise you will burn out quickly and terribly.

But you also need to be PROUD of your art style. If you're really feeling itchy, add a couple bells and whistles to your style so you can look at the finished page and say "Yeah, looks cool." You'll find the right balance the more you draw.

Also, don't be afraid to change your art style as you go along. Ultimate consistency is often impossible in webcomics anyway - so embrace your desire to try new things, streamline your work, whatever you feel needs to happen to be happiest. Sometimes the coolest part of reading a webcomic is noticing that style change - so don't hesitate to embrace it!

3) Resist the Reboot! RESIST!

The curse/blessing of drawing the same things over and over is that you'll inevitably get better at drawing those things. The trouble comes when you look back at old stuff and start thinking "Damn, I could draw that way better now."

You must recognize that this feeling never goes away. Not after a hundred pages. Not after three hundred. Not after a thousand.

I think everyone should be allowed one soft reboot for their first webcomic. Redraw some panels that bother you. Change up some dialogue if it doesn't make sense with your new story ideas. Do maintenance, basically. One of the beauties of webcomics is that they can be easily edited, without reprinting a whole book or remaking a whole game.

But if the ultimate purpose of a webcomic is to tell a story, then constant reboots will just be retelling the same story - slightly better each time, but the same at its core. We've heard it before. Most audiences would rather you save your strength and just keep going, rather than circling back year after year and going "Wait wait wait! I'll do it better this time."

Reboot early, not often, and only when you absolutely must! You're a storyteller, and you're constantly getting better at telling your story. Don't be ashamed of it - look back how much ground you've covered, and keep walking!

---

That's a good start. Happy webcomicking - don't be afraid to jump in, but be prepared to learn a lot very quickly. And if this advice doesn't work for you or adhere to how you did it, that's absolutely fine - webcomics are diverse by nature, and so are their creation processes. Feel out what works best for you, and good luck!

[anim-ttrpgs]

Get Hunted by a Monster in the official Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook for only $5! Slots limited.

Alright, so there’s a bunch of slots on the hunting tables in the Eureka rulebook that never got filled. Many of them, we planned for, others, we didn’t because a whole bunch of the Kickstarter backers never submitted anything.

So now we’ve got all these empty slots for hunting table submissions, and we don’t want the monsters (or us, food costs money) to starve, so we’re selling them off.

What are the Hunting Tables?

If you’ve been following us, you probably already know that sometimes the PCs in Eureka are monsters that eat people. Often, this is one of the few ways they can restore their missing Composure, something that normal PCs restore just by eating and sleeping. If they need Composure, and can’t find anyone to eat in the immediate vicinity, they can go on a Hunt.

The GM rolls on the most relevant Hunting Table to provide the monster with an opportunty to satisfy their hunger.

If you pay for one of these slots, you can be on that table, or your friend, or your OC, or whatever you come up with, with your own little scenario for monster PCs to encounter and maybe come away from a little less hungry.

Email us at anim.contactus@gmail.com if you’re interested, and we’ll take payment after we’ve screened your submission for anything bigoted. You can submit as many as you like if you’re willing to pay $5 for each and there’s still slots available.

Submission guidelines under the cut.

For every $5, you will be allowed to submit 1 entry to be placed in the Hunting Tables in the Eureka rulebook. If you don’t know what the Hunting Tables are, you can find them in The Supernatural chapter of the rulebook. Refer to the table of contents. You can get the beta version of the rulebook here for free at this time if you need to take a look.

For a brief description of what the Hunting Tables are, they are a series of random encounter tables that the Narrator will use to determine who, or what, a monstrous investigator may encounter when they are prowling the streets looking for victims.

What we need from you is the person or persons’ name(s), a brief visual description of them, where they are, what they are doing when the monster PC sees them, and any other guidance you can offer to the Narrator to help them portray this person.

Keep in mind that your entry may be edited for grammar, spelling, clarity, and anything else we may need to do to fit it into the tables. If your entry is too far outside the tone, themes, or setting of Eureka, you may be asked to revise or the entry slightly edited to fit.

The entry will be sorted by us into the following categories based on your description:

Mundane or Supernatural

Urban, Town, Rural, or Wilderness for entries that seem right for Ambush Predators, and Nightclub/Bar, Gay Bar, Hobby Shop, or House Party for entries that seem right for Social Predators.

That being said, when writing where the person is, be more specific than “in an urban area.” If you say something like “walking down the sidewalk” we’ll know to put that entry in the Urban category. If you say “sitting on a bar stool at the counter”, we’ll know to put that entry in the Nightclub/Bar category. The more specific information, generally the better, though we may cut down entries that are overly long.

Your entry could be a character representing yourself, someone you know, or an original character, and can be a supernatural character so long as it fits within the guidelines laid out for supernatural characters within the rulebook. However, we do ask that you avoid any famous real people(unless you yourself happen to be that famous person), and avoid copyrighted characters. Also, please avoid offensive stereotypes.

[shadybiotics]

R e d d e r d a y s

× pairing: venture x reader

× words: 1588

× content : afab!reader, cozy, comfort, fluff, period talk, sfw

× summary: You are on your period, not feeling well at all and thus missing from todays training. Venture noticed your absence and decided to check up on you.

[ A/N ] : I was on my period when i started writing this and needed some comfort. Also, for clarity, imagine this is a 2016 ow situation where everyone shares one base with their own rooms etc got it? cool.

You were currently at the shared Overwatch base. Todays agenda included some basic training and an annual rundown of the safety protocol during combat. These were both some of the lighter activities you had the chance to be a part of but even still, you wouldn't be able to attend as you felt like death walking.

You were on your period and you felt awful. In every way imaginable. Your skin tingled with hot and cold flashes, your insides felt funny and you weren't sure if you were going to vomit or faint first.

So you had to skip out on todays activities and stayed in your bunk instead, wrapped in your favourite blankets in your bed. And it turns out that somebody else had similar plans for today.

knock! knock! knock!

A quick succession of sturdy knocks at your door took your attention off of your phone that you've been scrolling on for the past hour or so.

"Who is it?" You tried to groan loud enough for the other person to hear with the little energy you had.

"Its Sloane! I heard you weren't coming to training today and wanted to come by and check up on you! If that's okay I mean."

So it was just Sloane, but why weren't they at training, you wondered. Not giving it much more thought than that you let them in.

The metallic door opened with a click and slid with a heavy swoosh and in entered Venture, wearing their comfiest sweater and some slacks.

"Oh, whats up with you?"

"Not feeling well" You answered shortly, still laying limp in your bed.

"I can tell that" Venture said with a soft chuckle.

"Im on my period" You said a little quieter as they walked over and carefully sat on the bed beside your legs.

"Ooooh yeah you don't look too good" That comment left their lips faster than they could think. You squinted and stared daggers in their direction the moment your brain registered what they said.

"Oops, sorry, didn't mean it like that" they said with a laugh. Venture had a quick glance around your room, mainly noticing the mess on your bedside table. An empty water bottle and a mug, some candy wrappers and a pack of pills. Painkillers, they assumed.

Embarrassment and shame shot through the layers of your discomfort when you noticed them analyzing your room. It was a mess, yes, there were clothes hanging about and a general mess on your desk as well that you didn't feel like cleaning. You swore you would get to it soon.

Venture gently rested their hand on your leg as they said in their most empathetic voice possible, "Im sorry, I cant imagine what it must feel like".

"Well, don't you... too...?" You questioned carefully.

You didn't want to prod too much, asking felt intrusive and intimate. You didn't want to step on any footing Venture felt uncomfortable with but you also couldn't deny your curiosity. It's only human to wonder.

"Oh, yeah! I do get my periods as well but they're usually not as intense... as yours. Never been actually, guess im lucky"

"Guess you are..." You replied a little gloomier while shifting deeper into your bed, wishing you had the same luxury as them.

"But why aren't you at training then?" You got up slightly, a headache warning to hit at the sudden movement, and scooted further into your bed to give them more room to sit. They followed and sat next to you.

"Honestly? I just wanted to catch up on some reading. There's this book on ancient archeology that -turns out- has some errors printed into it, and the writer shared a new edition, highlighting its previous mistakes and . . . " They went on and on but you couldn't help but zone out soon, concentrating only on the pounding in your head.

Reading. Of course the history nerd skips out on training just so they could read some more. How typical of them, you thought, smiling softly to yourself. Your head flopped onto their shoulder, your neck too lazy to support itself.

"-and i wanted to check up on you." That part caught your attention and made your stomach tense, in a pleasant way.

"Well, you did check up on me..." You whispered, still in a low mood, not feeling any better with time. Venture noticed.

"Aww come on, don't be like that!" They grabbed your sides through your shield of blankets, shaking and prodding you playfully. You only groaned at their attempts to make you feel better.

"Ughhh stop it!" You laughed. As groggy and moody as you were, that did lift your mood a bit. It was cute, you thought, how Venture would try to make you feel better despite your sour attitude.

"Come on, let me help you!" They moved to the edge of the bed, as if they were about to leave, one hand on your thigh. "I know, I'll go to the kitchen and grab you something, hm?"

"I don't have anything stored there right now..." Even though there was a cafeteria, everyone usually brought or made their own food and stored it in the shared kitchen and because of your current state you didn't meal prep anything for today.

"Eh, im sure i can find something we can borrow~" They threw you a wink and wide grin. You chuckled at their mischief. It was clear they were willing to go to great lengths to make you feel even slightly better, a blush crept up your cheeks at the thought. It was so sweet of them.

"So, any special requests?"

You thought for a moment. " Ice cream. Please. Im begging." You dramatically added. "Bring me ice cream, anything else might make me actually vomit..."

They lightly pat your thigh before sliding their hand off. "Alright, one order for ice cream! Be back soon!" they sung before hopping off the bed. They glanced your way with warm eyes before walking out the door, as if to tell you not to go anywhere while they were gone.

They didn't dare to say anything, but you looked so cute like this. You could clearly use some help or support, yet you wouldn't dare to bother anybody for it. They could think of several agents who would come running at your word if need be. It was like trying to help a stubborn sick cat, Venture thought as they left.

And so, you waited.

. . .

Your door slid open again and you saw Sloane hunched over, hurrying inside with a goofy smile, checking behind them as the door slid close. You immediately smiled upon seeing them. Their hand slid under their sweater and you watched as they clumsily pulled out a tub of ice cream that they were hiding. "Ah-cold-cold-cold!" they hissed. You laughed at the scene in front of you.

"Did anybody see you??" You questioned, still in awe.

"Psh! I hope not!" They hopped back on your bed next to you with other things in hand.

"Here is your ice cream" they wiggled their brows at you with a cheeky smile, clearly proud of the little thievery they just accomplished.

"Aaaand, since you have no other plans for today, i brought my book with me! I thought we could go over the errors together." They said excitedly as they pulled out a brand new beige book with golden rims. "It will help pass the time and keep your mind off of that uh, tornado inside you." They flashed their signature smile.

They were really sweet, just so so sweet. The care and consideration they showed for you made you feel so fuzzy inside and you couldn't stop smiling. It was an unusual feeling, but you enjoyed it. You smiled back at them.

"But before then, here, drink some tea, careful! Its hot." They handed you a hot mug of what smelled like... chamomile tea? You weren't entirely sure. "I forgot to ask which one you liked, but i heard this one is meant to soothe and relax... or something like that". They watched intently as you took a careful sip.

"Aah! Hot!" You hissed.

"Told you so" They chuckled at the funny face you made.

You put the mug aside to let it cool off a bit first. Instead, you gladly took the tub of ice cream off of Ventures hands. As you began digging in Venture scooted closer to you again and cozied up next to you in bed and you shared your blanket with them.

. . .

In between Sloanes reading, you would spoon feed them some of the ice cream. Their eyes remained glued to the pages and their voice now a little muffled with their mouth full of the cold sweets.

Sloanes warm voice and the sound of flipping pages proved to be much more relaxing than that tea. Their voice soon melted into the background and you focused on the sound of your own slow, steady breathing as your eyelids began to feel heavy. Soon your eyes fell closed. Still mindful of their presence next to you, you appreciated this moment and cozied up even closer as you shifted more of your weight onto Ventures arm. A soft blush tinted their cheeks as you let out a content sigh.

In turn, Venture lifted their arm, letting you rest on their chest instead. Their arm snaked around you, keeping you close and secure. The rumbling of their voice in their chest soon turned into a lullaby as Sloane continued their reading.

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 16)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2000

A/N: knock, knock, anyone still here? We're back baby! Let's continue this emotional rollercoaster.

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The truth is you weren't sure if setting such strong boundaries between yourself and Remus was a good idea, you knew in your words you shut off any opportunity for dates but at least you stopped arguing. It was almost as if removing pressure and expectations relaxed you both, a bit more excitement showed up as you now didn't know when you would spend time together. This increased the tension during your tutoring and when you bumped into each other in the hallway. If you wanted to see Remus you would go and knock on his office door and usually he would be in, but if he wanted to see you he had to put in more effort, he would usually find you using his Marauders Map, and he'd "casually" bump into you and inform you that he needed to discuss an essay with you.

The first week after your discussion was quite drastic you only saw each other two evenings out of the week, Remus only waited for you to show up but by the second week he was initiating the invites too. Your tutoring days turned into default Remus days as you chose to stay after your lesson was complete, it all felt very healthy and balanced. Neither of you owed each other anything and in a way you finally fell into the pattern Remus always wanted of not being in love just being together. However what you didn't know is Remus ached the past just like you did, you both didn't know what to do with your evenings anymore hoping the other would speak out and initiate an evenings together. Yes you did spend more time with your friends you began building friendships with more fellow students like Oliver Wood for example but the emptiness and longing remained and only disappeared as soon as you were back with Remus. On Friday you decided to go visit Remus's office with a gift that your parents sent you for your "friends" birthday upon your request. You knocked on his door only to find him in his usual position, he was hunched over his desk writing, his hands slightly stained from the ink of his quill.

"Marking or just for fun Professor?" You asked as you entered with a light nod and he looked up at you with a warm smile.

"For mental clarity. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He collected all the parchment and put it back in his desk drawer as you sat down opposite. He didn't stand up to embrace you as he was recently taking a more reserved approach towards your relations.

"I've got you a gift." You said with a smile revealing a small present wrapped in brown paper and tied with a tweed string.

"Thank you but how come?" He looked confused as he stood up and came to sit besides you.

"Your birthday, I know it's a bit late but you didn't let me know your birthday in advance so next year it'll be on time."

"Oh you think they'll be a next year?" He said shyly.

"Well no matter how close you are to a friend at least birthday wishes are always in order don't you think?" You asked and he nodded.

"You really didn't have to, you spend too much money on me." He said holding the gift in his hands but not opening it.

"Just open it." You said rolling your eyes and he followed your instructions opening it slowly, attempting not to rip anything. He pulled out a hardback penguin classics editions of Blake's Songs of innocence and of experience. "To help with the moral battles going on inside your head."

"How utterly topical, thank you dear, it's absolutely beautiful." He said with a warm smile going in to kiss you at the end of his sentence you welcomed the kiss as it felt like how he kissed you before the argument happened. "However it was actually the proverbs of hell that I quoted to you."

"I know, innocent and experienced wouldn't say something so evil to me."

"You were the one who called it off not me." He said with a playful wink.

"All thanks to your verbs from hell Remus." You said throwing a sofa cushion at him jokingly and he laughed.

"So do we thank William Blake or do we hate him?" Remus asked.

"Well let's see what happens when I finish school than we'll know." You said moving to sit closer to Remus and resting your head on his shoulder he put down the book on the coffee table and put his arm around you.

"How's revision going?"

"It's going, I'm stressed and I feel like I can't focus it feels like the common room and library are so packed with people and no one is ever really that quiet and I feel like they're all so far ahead of me."

"Darling you are so much further ahead then most of them, trust me I mark their work. But if you want to come and study here again you can, even if I'm not here just use my office, if anyone knocks while you're in here you can just say you have detention or you can explain that I allowed you to work from here."

"Thank you, but it's okay. I'll let you know if I need it. For now I think I just need a break my head feels like it's on fire." You explained closing your eyes slowly.

"Walk with me?" He asked standing up and reaching out a hand, you nodded in return standing up with him. He picked up his blazer and locked his office as you both left. You began walking and talking not knowing where Remus was leading you but you quickly left the castle grounds and began walking in the direction of Hogsmeade.

"How do you feel about us now?" You asked quietly as soon as you left Hogwarts grounds.

"I think you did the best thing for us, something I didn't have the guts to do." He replied, hands in his pocket, eyes looking down at his feet.

"What do you mean?"

"You hit the breaks on us, something I couldn't get myself to do, but we both knew we should."

"I think I regret it." You admitted not looking at him but in this moment he looked at you with a hurt face. "Not you, not us, but slowing us down, I miss what we had already." You elaborated.

"We still have it, just more controlled." His voice was very controlled like each word was thought out.

"But it's not the same, it's like I'm constantly reaching to stroke your hair and then pulling away as I know that's too much for what we currently are. I just want to skip to the end of the year and click play, I don't like this time on pause thing."

"Don't waste these last few months, when you leave you'll realise how much you miss it. These will be some of your best years. The freedom almost disappears, the friends move away and money suddenly becomes a problem." He explained and you nodded.

"I don't even know what I'll do next year." You admitted.

"Do you want my advice or just for me to listen?"

"Advice." You said appreciating he asked.

"I think you should teach muggle studies."

"Where?"

"Here at Hogwarts." He said enthusiastically.

"Here with you?" You asked.

"Not necessarily here with me, just here in the best school in the country. Hogwarts needs someone as passionate as you. You can help make young witches and wizards understand the muggle world, you can introduce them to music, literature. You can spend all day talking about things you love."

"I never thought of it that way." You admitted.

"It's just a thought, I think you'd make a great teacher. Plus in what other job can you geek out about Bowie to a room full of people and call it work?" He said enthusiastically.

"I don't know the first thing about teaching." You admitted.

"I'll teach you." He said casually.

"You just want to stay as my teacher forever and then we can never move on." You said with a small nervous laugh.

"Don't be stupid, then you'll be my peer and we'll have more freedom as to see where our lives go." He said.

"Won't it be just as taboo? We'll be back in limbo of not being able to date as we'll be working together and then we'll be waiting forever."

"No I don't think so, the problem is right now you're young, you haven't experienced the world, I don't want to be the blockade. You need to be free to do whatever you want and when you are no longer my student we can talk and see what we are." He explained once again, it felt like you both had this conversation memorised.

"But," you began again and Remus sighed anticipating what you're about to say. "How does this constitute as freedom, if I want to date around I can't, not that I want to, but if I did we said we're exclusive, it's like this is a relationship with none of the feel good parts just the sex and longing." You whispered bits just incase anyone was around.

"You asked for this Y/N." Remus emphasised.

"I don't think I did, I asked for more and I settled for this." You explained realising all you ever wanted was more dates but somehow your argument that day led to you asking for less everything, less feelings, less love and less time.

"Dear, have you read The mill on the floss by George Elliot? In it Phillip says "It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we're thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good and we must hunger after them. How can we ever be satisfied without them until our feelings are deadened?"

"I think that feels like an instinct I share." You said not understanding how a quote about seeking love is relevant when he's saying not to seek it.

"It's the romantic manifesto. There must be something more than this, something more intense. Something to let you out of the washing up and making your bed."

"Exactly." You said.

"Well it scares me to say I may have found it, the something more intense, but I don't want to mess it up, because if it exists it's the most beautiful thing I've ever stumbled across and I don't want to loose it by messing it up. Therefore let's let it take time and nourish in the feeling of longing for a little longer before we find comfort in it, let's not risk it before we are sure we can have it."

"I feel you're right but I don't want you to be."

"I don't want to be either." He said as he stood still and you looked puzzled at him as he looked around. "Coast is clear, aparate with me." He said and you grabbed on to him. You were in an alleyway in London you knew that immediately. First thing he did was crash his lips into yours, you kissed for an extended moment as it felt like finally you could, once he pulled away he grabbed your hand. "Where are we going?" You asked.

"To visit a friend, if you'd like?" He said as you turned the corner to see the familiar steps of 12 Grimauld place.

"Really, you aren't scared?" You asked.

"Terrified, but there's no meeting and no need to have a meeting therefore the only person home today will be Sirius and no one else should arrive especially who on earth would come on a Friday with no news, they don't like to hang out here." He explained as you approached the house.

"I'm so excited to find out everything about teenage Remus." You said and he laughed as he knocked on the door waiting for Sirius to open it.

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[zithcavooris]

My desire to limit the amount of gods and immortals lead to reimagining Circe as a descendant of/possessed by the original; reading up on her Donna Milton persona from the 90’s made the rest fall into place. I don’t think the comics’ Donna is much like mine, though. But I thought the meek and put-upon girl becoming the powerful and sassy villainess was a fun story, and could lead to her being seduced into fully embracing her Circe side later on. I understand the most recent interpretation of the Cheetah tells a similar story, but this story beat just worked better for Circe in my universe.

I don’t know why Circe has purple hair sometimes, reddish-brown is fine. I made her slightly more voluptuous to visually complement Circe’s big vivacious personality. And I decided to go with a Greek-inspired modern dress instead of an actual ancient one to highlight her duality, being an ancient sorceress “reborn”, so to speak, in modern times. I think both Donna and Circe would appreciate the more contemporary fashion.

According to family lore, Donna Milton was descended from Circe, the ancient Greek sorceress who bowed to neither man nor god. But Donna preferred to focus on the real world instead of old fairy tales, and worked hard to become a lawyer for the UN. Unlike Circe, however, Donna found herself constantly overlooked and pushed around by her superiors. She was in awe when, upon the Amazon's arrival in "Man's World", she was assigned as legal liaison to the brave and powerful Wonder Woman. Donna soon became Wonder Woman’s trusted ally and friend.

Having learned that magic and Greek myths weren’t entirely made up, Donna became more interested in her heritage. The more she looked through her family's old things, the more a change began to come over her. She began to think she herself was the sorceress Circe!

As “Circe”, she claimed to be the ancient enchantress’ spirit, who had possessed many of her own descendants throughout history. Now she had returned to once more amass mystical power, and destroy any man-made or divine forces that tried to hold her back–including her long-hidden foes, the Amazons!

Donna continued to live her normal life during work hours, her “Circe” personality only returning at certain times, and her memories of these times foggy. But much remains unclear. Has the spirit of an ancient sorceress truly possessed her? Or is she under a spell to make her think she’s been possessed, allowing her to act out her subconscious desires? Or is Circe no more than the psychotic break of an overworked woman, albeit one with magical powers? And most troubling of all, is Wonder Woman’s friend really as ignorant of her other half as she claims, or is she starting to like all that confidence and power?