#non-communicating meter

[stopsmartmetersaustralia]

AEMC moves to accelerate the roll out of smart meters in Australia

The Australian Energy Market Commission (AEMC) has made a draft rule designed to turbocharge the deployment of smart meters. The draft rule determination states that the rule would achieve ‘universal uptake of smart meters in the NEM [National Energy Market] by 2030’. The new rule represents a major departure from the ‘Expanding competition in metering and related services’ electricity rule that…

[bimobuddy]

hey so

who in the community is okay with spam boops

Because I'm fine with it, my phone doesn't give me spam notifications, so it literally won't bother me

But I didn't know that wasn't universal, so I spammed my friend and pissed them off ^^"

[ridher]

rafe cameron defending his shy & non-confrontational girl

one the the biggest perks in a relationship with rafe is how different he is from you, opposites attract or something like that.

his charismatic and confident nature makes it easy for him to interact — and more importantly, get what he wants. something you, however, tended to struggle with. it's not a negative quality, just the way you grew up and part of your personality rafe loves so much.

he caught on right away and it was what drew him towards you. being able to provide for his girl and be the man she relied on was truly all he could wish for — especially in situations like these.

today, you and your boyfriend went out to the country club, a common pastime for the two of you. he would hit a few holes and you'd watch all prettily from the golf cart, sipping on a drink that'd get you tipsy and clingy — just happy to be there.

that is, until another cart pulls up, the sound startling you before you're able to turn and look over at the disruption.

it's a group of asshole kook boys — something you used to assume about rafe, so you remain nonjudgmental. the rowdy group of three is focused on you since your boyfriend is a few meters away, zoned in on his sport.

"yo! could you go any fuckin' slower?" the driver shouts, hanging out the side of the open vehicle. his words leave you stunned, mouth agape and face heating up from the accusation you weren't sure how to handle.

instinctively, your head snaps back towards rafe who's already making his way back over with his club held dangerously tight in his grip — knuckles white and all.

"i'm sorry, i said something, didn't i?" the boy speaks back up, trying to get your attention through the subtle insult.

it works, because you look back over at the group, silent and overwhelmed by conflict. something that wouldn't seem like a big deal to others — namely your boyfriend who's already handling it with nothing more than a tense jaw in reaction — feels equivalent to the end of the world.

like always, rafe fixes it for you and they speed away with a wave of the middle finger — directed towards who is unclear.

he snaps you out of it with the touch of his hand on your chin, refocusing your eyes to connect with his. bracing the other on the roof of the golf cart, his body leans over yours and speaks up all low and soft just for you.

"that was all 'cause of me. nobody's mad at you, aight?" and he knows just what to say. if your eyes could be filled with hearts, they would be — instead, dilated pupils fill the color of your iris almost completely and you're nodding at his reassurance, mind hazy.

he smirks lazily, ego inflated at the feeling of being your savior and the confirmation that he is that person for you.

pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to your forehead, he taps firmly at your hip as a signal to scoot over so he can slide into the driver's seat and take control. all is well again when he feels your head fall to his shoulder during the bumpy ride across the course.

his large hand snakes around your waist and his thumb nudges the hem of your shirt when it starts circling absentmindedly.

the outing is cut short for reasons neither of you need to communicate, even more so when rafe hurries the two of you back to tanneyhill where he all but manhandles you up the stairs and into the familiar space of his bedroom — giggles and affectionate kisses following all the way.

[27moremoons]

400 days and 76 years

RNN:

*Numbers of martyred and wounded is what is recorded, not actual, actual is higher

This photo shows the extent of destruction by the zionist entity on the Gaza Strip in the last year, with each red dot representing a bombing.

With 85,500 tons of explosives dropped (seven nuclear bomb equivalents), this means that and equivalent of 38 kilograms of explosives have been dropped on every man, woman, and child in the Gaza Strip.

This means that 1.8 tons (1,800 kg) of explosives was used for every martyr, including the over 10,000 children killed by the occupation.

According to the Government Media Office and UN, 66% of buildings have been destroyed (over 200,000 homes), 68% of crops, 3,130 kilometers of electricity networks, 330,000 meters of water networks, 655,000 meters of sewage networks, and 2,835,000 meters of road and street networks.

This is what a genocide looks like.

A new report by the UN Human Rights Office found that 70% of the martyrs in Gaza are women and children, in the six months between November 2023 and April 2024.

80% of the martyrs ascended in residential buildings, killed by American weapons. 44% of them were children, and 26% are women.

The most represented age group was children between the ages of 5 and 9. The youngest verified martyr as a result of the IOF aggression was a one-day-old boy, while the oldest was a 97-year-old woman.

The report also noted deliberate communications blackouts and bombing of communication infrastructure, targeting of journalists (making Gaza "the most dangerous place on earth for journalists"), mass displacement, attacks on educational sites, attacks (bombings and invasions) on hospitals—rendering them non-functional—among other crimes.

In the last 400 days of genocide, 3,759 massacres have been carried out by the IOF, resulting in 53,508 martyrs and missing, including 17,000 children (786 under one year old), 12,000 females, 1,047 medical staff, 85 civil defense, and 185 journalists, as well as 37 martyrs by starvation. 1,206 Palestinian families have been erased from the civil registry.

85,500 tons of explosives have been dropped in the last year, equivalent to 7 nuclear bombs, or nearly 2 tons per martyr.

Martyrs continue to ascend daily, particularly in the besieged northern Gaza Strip, amidst a lack of Civil Defense, medical care, and media coverage.

[mxtxfanatic]

Maybe this is just an introvert thing and most people are extroverts that refuse to understand introverts, or maybe this is just a growing up thing, but uhhh… Wei Wuxian doesn’t need friends.

Before anyone jumps to conclusions, this is not to say that Wei Wuxian doesn’t need love or affection or a community. This is to say that Wei Wuxian already has exactly the kind of people in his life that fulfill all of those roles, and he is not yearning to find new people to shoot the shit with. He has Lan Wangji, Wen Ning, the juniors, Mianmian and her family, the outer Lan disciple girl he saved, and—who knows—whatever random non-bigot wangxian run across on their journeys and choose to stay in touch with. Wei Wuxian fills his social meter by talking to the people wangxian meet on their travels. He doesn’t need or even express a want for more, and I think people are mistaking his ability to be charming and the center of attention for a need to charm people and be the center of attention, without accounting for the fact that “being likable” was a trait Wei Wuxian took on in his first life for survival purposes as both a street orphan and then as the ward of a great clan leader with no real status or stability. Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian could give less than a fuck what anyone thinks of him.

Some of the cultivators at the second siege said they’d never thank him or forgive him or welcome him back into the fold, and he looked them dead in their faces and said, “And?” Like what, was he supposed to cry about it? The rest of the cultivators start including him in the conversation about how to follow-up on capturing Jin Guangyao, and all of his thoughts on this “inclusion” are tinged with exasperation and a faint disgust. He attends that Lan family banquet in the extra and the thing that kills his mood is not the disapproving atmosphere but the fact that he didn’t like the food. Those people may not like him, but the feeling is mutual! He doesn’t like them either! He doesn’t care if they like him or not because they are irrelevant to his life and decisions! Everyone he loves, loves him, and those are the only people who he wants to be around longterm.

It may trip some folks up, but some of us are just like that. We aren’t actively looking for new people to integrate into our friend groups, and we do not revolve our lives around how others view us. Nobody who’s actually secure in themself is crying over the mean mug Sidewalk Extra #27 threw in their direction or why Coworker #5 didn’t invite us over for a gossip session. The vibe of adulthood is: nobody needs an infinite number of friends that must be collected throughout your whole lifetime. Sometimes a handful of people you’ve been through hell and back with is enough. Be like Wei Wuxian and master that.

[matan4il]

IDK how to write today's update post. There were so many things I meant to include info about, but now everything pales in the face of the terrible news we got this morning.

At least 24 Israeli soldiers were killed in the last 24 hours in Gaza.

Here are the faces of some of them:

The terrorists responsible for most of these deaths, attacked in a spot just 600 meters (0.37 miles, with the border breached on Oct 7 in the middle) from a southern Israeli community, Kissufim.

[this paragraph is for the people spewing hate, on and off anon : if you read the news and smiled to yourself, or felt any kind of joy, I want you to know that's vile. It's devoid of any morality or humanity. You can tell yourself and others that you're for human rights all you want, but if you feel joy at the death of human beings, human beings who had the right to live (and would have lived, had it not been for the terrible massacre Hamas carried out on Oct 7, which the terrorists promised to recreate repeatedly, targeting Israelis and Jews alike), then you're not for human rights. It's just an excuse you use to be able to publicly celebrate the death of Jews, and of non-Jewish citizens of the Jewish state who defend their fellow Jews. It's just the same, age old antisemitism under a new guise]

IDK how to explain what that number does to me, as an Israeli, as a Jew, as the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors.

I still remember the morning of Oct 7, as the news started pouring in. First, just talking about the rockets, they had no confirmation of casualties yet. Then, we got the news of one elderly woman, killed by a rocket as she left her home to open the communal bomb shelter for others to use. Then suddenly it was 5 dead, then 10, then 22, along with the news that Palestinian terrorists from Gaza have invaded Israel's south.

And I knew then that the number is going to be higher. The way it normally goes with news of terrorist attack, is you first get a big number, those killed immediately or shortly after the attack, and then there are a few more wounded who don't make it. Basically, there's a big number, and then a small adjustment. Something like... first hearing about the 10 immedaite casualties of an attack, then the number is adjusted to 12 or 13 in the following hours, or days. But here, the jump in the number of dead from 10 to 22 told me we're not in the "small adjustment phase" yet. We're still in the "counting the initial big number phase."

That was so hard, because 22 was already hard to deal with. Up until Oct 7, if I remember correctly, we had lost 38 people in 2023 to Palestinian terrorism. That was already considered the bloodiest year in terms of terrorism victims since the second intifada. People were already grieving, asking questions about what was going on, talking about how the renewal of certain (American) funding to Palestinians (such as the Palestinian Authority's Pay for Slay program) was causing this surge in murderous activity, and what can be done to change the situation. To lose 22 people in one day meant that the number of 2023 terrorism victims was almost doubled already... and we were not yet done counting our dead. The grief and loss of almost 9 months and change almost doubled in a day... and it was likely about to grow.

The number of dead kept rising. We jumped from 22 to 50. From 50 to 100. Then 200. Still no sign of getting to the "small adjustment phase" and it was hard to breathe with every new update. We got to 300, and it was almost unbearable. Then 450. A jump of 150 dead. There was no way to process it, no way to really comprehend it, and the worst was always that the jumps in numbers between updates meant we're still in the "counting the initial big number phase." Somewhere after 600 and before the next update, I realized from an interview (nothing official, just the implication of what one person, who was in the know, said) that it was not going to be less than 1,000 people killed. And I no longer felt like I could contain any of it. The horror, the grief, the shock, the struggle to comprehend that this is real, and not the worst nightmare I've ever had.

At least 1,200 people were murdered during Hamas' massacre. It's been over 3 months, and when I write that I didn't know how to contain everything I was feeling back then, I still don't. So you might think, what's 24 people in comparison to 1,200 dead? But that's not how it works. The death of one person does not pale in comparison with the death of the many.

When I work on Holocaust research, and I work on the testimony of one Jewish girl, who had to watch her father being beaten in front of her eyes by Nazi-collaborating Italian fascist soldiers in a concentration camp in Libya, in northern Africa, when I try to process what the murder of just one parent, just one person means to her, I know it's the destruction of her whole world. It doesn't lessen the pain, that the number of Jewish Holocaust victims outside of Europe is "just" in the thousands, while in Europe it's in the millions. One death can in itself be impossible to bear.

And here's the thing. Those deaths and their impact accumulate. We didn't just learn today that we lost 24 soldiers. We lost 24 worlds (because as the Jewish saying goes, "He who kills one person, it's as if he killed the entire world, and he who saves one person, it's as if he saved the whole world," Mishna Sanhedrin 4.5) and we lost them as a part of now over 220 soldiers we lost in this war (see below a map of Israel with a red dot for every place where at least one soldier was killed), which was forced upon us with the murder and destruction of over 1,200 worlds, which comes after 75 years of a conflict we didn't want, in which we lost 28,000 worlds, and that followed a genocide in which we lost at least 6,000,000 worlds, and that in itself is the peak of almost two thousand years of persecution, during which the full and total number of Jews lost, of worlds destroyed just because of antisemitism, will never be known. All I know is that the Jews we know today, we're not the Jewish people. We are what's left of the Jewish people. And we will live. Am Yisrael Chai. Always. In the face of countless attempts at our destruction, we're still here. But we remember them all. Every single soul lost. Every world destroyed. Every child that had been murdered, every child that will never get to be born. We have lost 24 worlds today, and the fact that we have lost so many before, only makes the loss worse.

And we would not have lost a single person in the fighting in Gaza if we had actually been guilty of the crimes they accuse us of. We could have wiped out all of Gaza from the air, without risking the life of a single soldier on the ground. Every one of the Israeli soldiers killed, died to protect Israelis, as well as to save Palestinian civilians.

The way I feel right now, I think about the words of one member of Kissufim who I heard today: "We are broken, but strong."

May the memory of those lost be a blessing, every single one of them, every Jewish person, and non-Jew killed for standing with Jews, in every generation.

You're all still with me, I carry all of you in my heart, always.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[genderkoolaid]

Hiltz ran a personal best in the 1,500 meters with a time of 4:02.32, good enough for a silver medal, winning the first American medal in the event since 2003. Their performance left Hiltz in shock. “Yeah, I’m in disbelief. I can’t believe it.,” said Hiltz, 29, who is transgender and non-binary. The gold medal was won by Ethiopia’s Freweyni Hailu and American Emily Mackay took the bronze. Afterwards, Hiltz and Mackay celebrated on Instagram. [...] “Wore my ‘them’ necklace yesterday at the US championships for all the they/thems out there,” Hiltz wrote on X. “I’m so thankful for the nonbinary and trans community for believing in me and encouraging me to continue to chase my silly little dreams. Keep showing up and taking up space.”

[ggidolsmuts]

Move - woo!ah! Nana

Drunk on this undefinable atmosphere

How did you even end up here? You briefly wonder, before Nana pulls you into the hotel room. A glance, that was the spark, then you joined her at the bar. You bought her a drink, then the two of you were sharing one—first by glass, then through each others lips. It was electric, the few seconds between each sip tingling the air.

I let you go

That you did as she excuses herself, but she comes back for you, leading you upstairs. The elevator was warm as you hug Nana close, pinning her against the wall. And now on the bed you let her go once more, and she strips, no, peels off her tight top and jeans, stoking the fire that's infernalizing the room.

You can't get away from me

She doesn't get to take her underwear off as you pull her back to you—you wanted to be the one to do it.

Your hair becomes disheveled, how pretty

Nana's coiffed hair is ruined by your fingers, and it won't be the only thing ruined by your hand tonight. She presses her lips fiercely on yours, working on your shirt and pants. You unclasp her bra and pull it off, toss your own shirt away, and your lips are immediately on her chest, sucking and leaving a mark on a breast. Your hands dive down her bare back, slipping underneath her panties, and Nana moans when you squeeze her.

"Fast!"

The two of you work in tandem to remove your pants and boxers, and showing off her flexibility Nana stays seated on top of you as she slides one leg, then the other, out of her own underwear. The two of you gasp and pause, savoring the feel of her wet heat pressed on your shaft.

Look at me properly, oh yeah

You try your best, and briefly you win the staring contest with Nana, her large round eyes falling shut first, like a progress meter being filled as she sinks deep on to you. You close your eyes soon after, groaning at her tightness as you hold her slim waist. The two of you stop to bask in the pleasure of the other.

"Fuck..." She whines.

Under the dim lighting, we start to move again

The lighting may be dim, but for you it is pitch black, as your eyes stay closed when Nana begins to move. Her hip movements guide your hands up and down, front and back, slowly, sensually. A firm hand on your neck makes you tilt your head back, and you taste Nana's lipstick, tangy and sweet.

Elegant hand movements, subtle glances

Her soft hand is now on your cheek, and you force your eyes open to look at her. Her gaze is needy, and silently she rides you harder, the kiss she takes from you more urgent.

An undescribable feeling, a thrilling desire

Every drop of her hips on you sends a bolt through both of you, and you can't wait for her to lift herself off you, just to do it again, and again.

You got got the rhythm, your moves grip me

Nana indeed has you in her grip, made slicker but tighter after every passing beat of her rhythm. You have a grip on her too—on her waist, on her tits, on her ass, you squeeze her to your hearts content, non-verbal communication of your pleasure to her. You latch your lips to her neck.

Temporarily everything is erased

Nana's mind goes blank, and she gasps when the angle changes slightly—you're rubbing her just right. Her eyes draws you in, and she whispers one word before they gloss over in pleasure.

"More!"

Your bodies move with more purpose, eager to fuck each other perfectly. They move with more force, to ruin each other loudly.

Your delicate makeup runs, discard your beauty

Nana's sweating and drooling, her lipstick smudged, her mascara trickling. But who gives a fuck when she's giving you the best ride of your life? She wipes her drool away, smearing her lipstick on the back of her hand before smearing them over your lips, throwing her arms around your neck.

My shirt might get wrinkled, but it's fine, look at me

Your shirt is wrinkled by Nana's foot digging into it, pushing it into the bed as she struggles for leverage. Her movements are wild now, loud audible claps of her hips into yours as she chases her peak.

"So fucking good!" She cries out loud as your hands find her lower back, helping her push against you even more.

We're perfect like this, so let go and just repeat this, just repeat this

Again and again and again you sheath Nana around you, using what little leverage you have in the position to make that sheathing all the more violent.

"Nngh, nngh... yes, yes, yes fuck!" Nana shouts in climax. You join her shortly as her powerful thighs and silky walls close around your hips and shaft. You seed her belly and she honeys your thighs, and your fluids act as the rain that turns the inferno back into an ember. She runs her fingers through your hair, and you do the same to her—this time you are the one cuffing her neck, demanding a burning kiss from her. You slip out, and the two of you watch the thick stream of white drip on to the bed. Wordlessly she takes you to the bathroom, and the sound of the shower you take together is almost calming, apart from the fact that she palms your length, stroking you back to hardness once the water stops.

Nana turns her back to you, allowing you to admire her lithe figure as she lines herself up and splits her pussy on your cock once more. She moves herself back and forth, and you take the hint to begin thrusting. You pause briefly to gather her long hair together, and gently you tug on it. Nana looks back at you.

"Don't stop."

There's no need for further words.

Just repeat this, just repeat this, just repeat this

A/N: Youtube randomly recommended me Nana's Move performance again from Queendom Puzzle, and it just made me want to try and do a "lyric fic" of Move, which is one of my favorite songs (Taemin is awesome), so here you go. I took some slight liberties with the translation, but yeah it works for the most part, thanks for reading! And thanks youtube I guess lol

[euripidestrousers]

What are your big wolfstar hc?

Ooh good question!

I tend to change my hcs based on the AU I'm writing, but i am not exaggerating when I say these little freaks are Always on My Mind so I have an ungodly amount of canon-themed hcs. Here we go:

- Remus is one of the only people Sirius cuts a fair amount of slack. Sirius has high standards and expectations of others but he has a huge Remus-shaped blind spot, so will find reasons to excuse Remus' sometimes shitty behaviour. He has heart shaped eyes for his gangly, sly, avoidant attachment style man.

- Remus sleeps like an absolute log, anywhere, anytime. Sirius has always been a light sleeper, wakes easily, and doesn't sleep much.

- They kept their casual fucking-turned relationship secret until well after graduating. The only ones who knew were James, Lily and Peter. Lily was the first one to figure it out because poor James had been in the trenches, so used to his friends' flirting that he didn't even clock it anymore. It brought Lily and Sirius together because he had someone to talk about it with, the first person he'd met who wasn't a casual homophobe about it, and was sympathetic.

- Second to this! James and Peter weren't always rainbow flag waving allies. They were teenage boys in the 70s - they'd drop casual homophobic comments all the time before finding out about their friends. Sirius joined in sometimes to hide it from James (he never cared what anyone else would think but he was secretly afraid of losing closeness with James), and Remus went very quiet whenever this happened. James was surprised at first when he found out but came around within minutes and apologised for being a thoughtless dick when he was younger.

- Peter most definitely used Remus and Sirius' tumultuous relationship against them. Remus was very avoidant about coming out and Sirius, while not his highest priority, resented having to hide. They bickered about it and Peter would often throw a spanner in to make their fighting worse.

- Sirius' hair is a good indicator of his mental health. While he's not vain he tends to keep it neat and out of the way when he's in a good place mentally. When he's fighting inner demons he lets it go and Remus knows this. He uses it as a Sirius-meter, and knows when it's starting to get long and unkempt to gently pry into what's going on with him.

- They do the crossword puzzles together most mornings (when Remus gets up in time)

- Sirius is fantastic at baking although he only did it once or twice for Lily's birthday (per her request). Remus is the cook for both of them, although when Sirius isn't there he sustains himself on tea, biscuits and deeply suppressed anxiety.

- Sirius is a singer when he's in a good mood. Remus adores coming home to hear his deep voice belting out a mix of muggle and wix songs because it means Sirius is in his happy place. Sirius is a serenader - it starts as a joke but there's a soft look in his eye when sings while he spins Remus around the kitchen. It's one of Remus' favourite Sirius-isms

- Sirius jokes about Remus' lycanthropy to make light of it. He can be a bit callous and insensitive about it at times, but his candour does make Remus feel less like a monster.

- They are god-awful at communicating as they're both rather private, skeptical people. While it's something they have in common and respect about each other, it makes for difficulties in a relationship.

- Sirius is a Nightmare when he's bored so Remus has a mental Rolodex of thought-provoking questions to stop him from wreaking havoc (or just being annoying). As soon as he sees the restlessness starting, he casually brings up that new law about to pass in the goblin senate, and how it might affect non-human creatures in the wizarding world. He still hasn't recovered from the time Sirius got bored and took apart his record player to see how it worked and he's not getting caught out again. This is also one of the reasons why Remus is in Sirius' top 3 favourite people - he always has something interesting to say and will happily debate for hours. Sirius is hardly ever bored around him.

- Neither of them are jealous lovers. Remus' self-worth is in the toilet, so if he sees someone flirting with Sirius he just feels miserable and spirals, thinking about how Sirius can do so much better than him. Sirius is a fiercely loyal person so he never flirts back and thinks Remus' self-image issues are ridiculous. On the odd occasion that someone flirts with Remus, Sirius rather enjoys it because a) it's ammunition for teasing and Remus will go bright red when he brings it up, and b) Watching Remus eventually realise he's being flirted with is prime entertainment - he fumbles and blushes so hard and almost takes out whoever's around in his haste to flee. It's priceless. Also - Sirius is extremely self-assured and knows his partner is hopelessly gone for him and would never cheat. Trust is extremely important to them both.

- Remus is extremely unpleasant around the full moon. He's got all sorts of aches and pains, has trouble sleeping properly, fatigue, and nausea issues. It makes him irritable and snappy. Sirius is incredibly patient with him and gives him space. He doesn't take Remus' mood to heart and occupies himself while Remus wallows. He's always there when Remus finally emerges from his misery to pitifully request a massage or a pain potion, and is uncharacteristically soft with him during the full moon period.

- Sirius. Cannot. Stand. the way Remus runs away from problems. It's his biggest pet peeve and it's a source of some of their biggest fights.

- Remus is mostly vanilla-aligned but is open to trying whatever new thing Sirius comes home with, smiling giddily and clutching a new toy or book with a spell he wants to try out. Occasionally Sirius will strike gold and find a kink Remus is wild for (ahem, praise kink), and is horribly smug about it

- Sirius is hopelessly gone for Remus' feigning innocence, lying through his teeth act. He doesn't understand it, but seeing Remus lie point blank to someone's face with those big, trustworthy brown eyes, sends him off-the chain, I-need-to-fuck-this-man-right-now-wild and he has no clue why. Remus is aware of this.

- They are mostly switchy but will go for months at a time with a preference for topping/bottoming. When Remus is feeling particularly insecure he tends to want to be fucked intimately, face-to-face, where he can see every twitch in Sirius' face, can catalogue the evidence of how much Sirius adores him. Sirius is just happy to be along for the ride because this way he can completely blanket Remus and grind slowly, swallowing every one of Remus' whimpers and broken moans as he fucks him slowly and thoroughly. Sirius can't get enough of taking him apart, finding his limits, anything that breaks Remus' finely tuned composure.

- Sirius is awful at apologies when they're younger. He has trouble admitting or even seeing his wrongs. After becoming an animagus he finds that it's much easier to apologise as Padfoot. After a fight he'll go for a rage-fuelled long walk or bike-ride, and cool down. When he's said or done something he regrets, he'll come home as Padfoot, tail drooping and wagging hopefully, big grey eyes fixed on Remus. He'll sidle up to him and just stare, wagging his tail. Remus knows exactly what he's doing but it's impossible to stay mad at him like this and he begrudgingly accepts that it's Sirius' way of apologising. It's not the healthiest communication tactic but they're not perfect. Once Sirius receives a begrudging head scratch, he changes back to his human form and acts like they never fought. It's annoyingly effective.

- Remus absolutely loathes flying on Sirius' motorbike. He begrudgingly admits it's hot to see Sirius dismounting, windswept, leather jacket donned, but god help him he'll do anything to avoid joining him on that death-trap. The only upside is that when he gets cajoled into riding, he can wrap around Sirius like a squid, burying his face in his back, and it's the only way it feels even slightly safe. Sirius secretly loves when Remus does this, and although he doesn't know what cute aggression is, it makes him want to squeeze Remus until his head pops off.

- Sirius is The Garbage Bin of the relationship. Oh you're not gonna finish your dinner? Pass it on over. Random assortment of treats Remus can't finish? Munches on them instead of meals. He often forgets to eat so he gets what he can when he can - ADHD eating style. Remus is the sick Victorian child, 'i can't eat too much dairy or I'll die'. Takes one bite of an apple and feels sick, Sirius, come get your snack, boy.

- Neither of them ever wanted kids but they both like children, which is a surprise to both of them. Given the chance, they are the Coolest Uncles, although Remus is cagey about their relationship and insists they're just best pals that live together until Harry is old enough to call bullshit, and Sirius just shrugs like 'yeah, he's weird about it. If you ask him about it he'll run away to Turkey. I'm working on it.'

Wowwww okay I have so many more but I have to stop somewhere. I hope you don't regret asking this question anon! You have opened Pandora's box

[stopsmartmetersaustralia]

AusNet Services hits customers on manually read meters with quarterly fee

It appears that AusNet Services, which is one of the five Victorian power distributors, has lost its moral compass.  According to a letter which it mailed to customers, changes to its manual reading process will result in customers with a manually read meter being charged a quarterly fee of $34.80 (excluding GST) from 1 July 2023.  The letter states that this fee will increase every financial…

[referrix]

I'm currently working on trying to find locations for some of the known rooms and things inside Alfea, (at the moment specifically, I'm working on the kitchen and dining hall) before I put myself through floor plans again. So I thought I'd share what some of my working out looks like behind the scenes.

And why it might be a problem that Season 8 turned these flat topped towers:

Into these much shorter flat topped towers:

Because I'm currently fairly certain that was the dining hall in that upper half.

Trying to figure out where the dining hall is, isn't a one room tracking operation, because we know there's a kitchen, we've seen it, we've seen the Winx Club set fire to it with their negligence. You don't typically put a food making place far from the eating place, so tracking one, should help track the other.

We first see the kitchen in episode 105, when the girls are on dinner duty (or making a spell with potato peels and a magical back-flip if you're a 4kids truther), and during dinner prep they head back to their dorm to help Stella pick an outfit.

From their dorm, they're able to smell the smoke and react, racing to the kitchen before even the chef and Griselda arrive, though not by much in Griselda's case. (Also, Bloom uses the same spell Griselda does a few episodes later back on Earth in her house while cooking with Vanessa. Just saying.)

This means, or at least suggests that the kitchens are not only in the same building as their dorm, but reasonably close by.

When we return to the kitchen in episode 115 we actually have a little zoom around the rear tower and focus in on a spot above/behind the rear most dorm balcony on the building before phasing inside to the girls walking along a hall to the kitchen.

While the hallway is different between the two episodes, background continuity is not Winx Club's feature, but it does double down on the idea that the kitchen is in that building.

(In 105 the girls turn a corner into a short hallway, while in 115 it appears to be a long straight hallway with windows all along it. Though later in the episode the looking out view does look kindamuch the same as 105?)

(props to Alfea for having non-magical fire extinguishers for added safety)

Or at least one of the kitchens is in that building, I wouldn't be surprised to find out there are two. Or at least a smaller communal kitchen for the other mirrored building, so the girls don't have to go across campus for a midnight snack.

Further, although the exterior and interiors of the school don't always match up exactly, in several shots of the dining hall, we can see the six bays of tall windows. Now there is a chance they could just be windows from the middle floor, one of the balconied window sets, but the shape and compactness matches much more closely with the tower's rear facing window wall, the one that leads out onto the flat balcony.

The number of windows/bay divisions don't match up perfectly, but again, internal-external logic consistency isn't 100% at Alfea,

Additionally, in these shots from season two, we can see some smaller windows lining the upper sections of the wall opposite the window wall, which match up loosely with the windows on the rear towers, where they meet the roof of the dorm section.

We should also talk about sizes and room dimensions.

Based on the door below the smaller windows, the windows are at least three maybe four meters off the floor. The tables run about 5 meters.

Estimating for girls behind pillars, the most packed side holds 16 students, while the least packed has space for 13.

A quick bit of research into bench tables brought me some numbers.

The longest commercial tables I could find that came with suggested sizing by seat number suggested that for a 10 person table (4 on each long and 1 per end cap, so realistically for out count and 8 person table) would range between 2.2m, 2.6m, or 2.8m depending on how comfy or squished the seating is expected to be. Doubling those numbers to get tables to seat 16 max per side, we end up with tables ranging 4.4m, 5.2m, and 5.6m.

Doing a quick eyeball and stamp measurement, and given that the room isn't perfectly circular, but there is at least one (suspiciously straight) hallway outside it, I'd be okay saying that we're looking at a space with a rough diameter between 9 and 15 meters.

Finally, there's the thing that might be a door opposite the teachers' dais, which I think might match up with the external door on the tower that leads up a protruding staircase to a spiral staircase that leads to the observation platform on the top of the tower.

Or at least an elevator or internal spiral staircase up to the external door, or even a door across a corridor to the external door, depending on how big the overall dining hall really is in relation to the tower it's sitting in.

Why don't I think it leads to the kitchens?

Well, let's look at the kitchen: it looks roughly square, or at least not a whole lot longer one way than the other, so we're looking at a squarer sort of rectangle at most, and with that we can do a few quick calculations based on what's in the kitchen.

First, my research tells me that in a commercial kitchen, like for a restaurant, recommended kitchen size is .5m² per seat. The count of the students at the table (estimated 16+14+14+13=57 plus three teachers) give us around 60 seats, which makes our estimated kitchen around 30m².

(That's a fridge in the left corner as far as I can tell, though I did for a short time assume it was stairs. Gosh darn pattern on the door, fooling me.)

Further, commercial fridges, double ovens and cupboards give me widths of 610cm for a fridge, 60.96-68.58-76.2cm for double ovens, and 1200cm for a cupboard. recommended ventilation distance between ovens is a suggested minimum of 15.24cm, and there are four ovens along one wall with the fridge and the free standing cupboard. Using the largest width for ovens, we're looking at a room of at least 5.62m across.

It's important I note here, that the room isn't actually square, while the main body of it looks that way, there's also a little alcove attached along that wall.

Now there is a bit more space between the ovens than is recommended, enough for Musa to hide between them comfortably, but this gives us a starting base.

Even if the dining hall is 15ms across on the outside, that's still enough room to fit the kitchen in the tower given some of my other calculations which have the width of the mirrored buildings at 24-30m across, which should translate to the width of the flat topped towers.

But again, there's that zoom in, and the fact the girls come in from the side and turn left into the kitchen. I think we're looking at a kitchen position that's a little something like this:

Although I am hoping that despite the lack of any doors in the alcove, there's actually a walk in fridge/freezer behind the back wall, because there's plenty of cooking spaces, but there doesn't seem to be much in the way of food storage outside the free standing fridge in the corner, the pantry by the alcove, and the alcove.

Maybe there's more in the various short cupboards, but at least a portion of those would be for cooking utensils, crockery, cutlery, and I don't see any that are different enough to indicate cold storage vs long-life/shelf.

[certified-eureka-posts]

About this blog!!

Hi! This is a sideblog for me to dump posts that remind me of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, an excellent system for tabletop mystery games developed by @anim-ttrpgs. Below the cut is information about Eureka, its creators, myself, and what to expect out of this blog.

What is Eureka?

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is an indie tabletop roleplaying game by the very talented team at @anim-ttrpgs, focused on providing mechanical support for stories where characters investigate mysteries, as well as allowing for the presence of supernatural phenomena and characters. In my opinion, it is the most elegant, cohesive, and interesting TTRPG system that I have ever read or played in terms of its mechanics, storytelling capabilities, and even its perspectives on society as a whole. This blog is, more or less, "propaganda" convincing people to give the game a shot – I'm not affiliated with its creators in any way other than being acquainted with them through their work and online communities, but I love the game and its community, and I'd love to see it succeed, so I want to share an idea of what it is and why I like it.

What makes Eureka such a great system?

A whole lot! Its systems are deeply elegant, creating a game where players can piece together mysteries alongside their investigators in a grounded world that still leaves space for supernatural intrigue. Combat is swift and strategic, but deadly if you go in without a plan. Investigations can be complex, but even the stickiest of situations don't require railroading to keep players on track. Mundane and supernatural characters alike have access to unique abilities, quirks, and skills that make each character feel distinct in mechanics as much as in flavor. The game interacts with the real world by way of fiction in a way that's refreshing and endlessly fascinating.

Systems like Eureka! moments (which allow investigators to retroactively learn information from a previously failed roll) and the streamlined character creation system allow the game to run smoothly and efficiently without getting overly bogged down, and mechanics like the Composure meter (representing an investigator's energy level and state of mind) and the Success/Partial Success/Failure resolution mechanic create an interesting element of risk where player choices matter a lot.

On top of all that, Eureka includes rules for supernatural characters that beautifully integrate the themes, traits, and abilities of classic folkloric or media monsters, making for intriguing secrets, hard choices, and a lot of variety in the gameplay of different investigators. (Most of this is already true of mundane non-supernatural characters, but it's carried through into the lens of vampires and other monsters very elegantly.)

I'd love to see the tabletop gaming scene as a whole take notes from Eureka's handling of a lot of different problems, and I'm constantly excited to see what their team comes up with next. If you ever want to run a mystery story in a tabletop game (especially if systems like D&D 5e have disappointed you on that front), I would seriously recommend Eureka as the game to use for that purpose, and if you're interested in the hobby at all, I would recommend reading Eureka as a way to get valuable insight into the thought process that goes into game design in the tabletop space.

What can I expect to see on this blog?

This blog is for basically any post I see that makes me think of Eureka. Most of the time, that includes references to the monsters and phenomena referenced in the rules about supernatural characters – posts about vampires, werewolves, witches, and alien shapeshifters, for example, are often right at home here. In particular, posts about these kinds of supernatural beings being normal people and living normal lives tend to remind me of Eureka. Other things that are reminiscent of Eureka include noir and neo-noir aesthetics, which the game owes a lot to, and popular detective media, which is ultimately its core inspiration.

Who runs this blog?

I'm Nora, my main blog is @mc-cookies, and I am just a fan of Eureka. I'm not directly affiliated with the creators (hell, they don't remotely have the budget to make me advertise for them), but they and the rest of the community are super nice people who have a lot of insight about the process of making and playing tabletop games.

Who makes Eureka, and how do I support them?

Eureka is an amazing game, and independent tabletop designers across the board do a ton of work to make art that I enjoy a lot, but unfortunately it's not the most welcoming market to be in. Wizards of the Coast, and by extension Hasbro, has what is effectively a monopoly on the TTRPG hobby in the form of D&D, and it's hard for new creators to break into the space because of that. Eureka is made by ANIM TTRPGs, a very small group of designers taking on a very large project. While they're gearing up for the full release of Eureka and preparing their next projects, any support is helpful to them.

To read Eureka, visit their itch.io page to download a fully playable beta version on a pay-what-you-can basis! Even free downloads can support the game by bumping Eureka on itch's algorithm and getting it recommended to more people.

To support ANIM more, consider subscribing to their Patreon, which will grant you access to more frequent updates of the Eureka beta, as well as concept art, previews of their future projects, and a community discord server.

To give on a one-time basis, use ANIM's ko-fi page to donate to them more directly. Right now they're also taking donations to add custom characters into the rulebook as possible random encounters, and ko-fi is the place to go for that!

If you just want to interact with the team at ANIM and learn more about the work that they're doing, give them a follow here on tumblr at @anim-ttrpgs – their blog has similar content to this one, as well as regularly posting excerpts of the rules, answering people's questions, and discussing the broader tabletop gaming hobby.

And last but certainly not least, ANIM also runs a TTRPG Book Club server on Discord, which is excellent for finding RPGs to read and play and people to read and play them with, and is a great place to interact with other people who are interested in indie TTRPGs (including ANIM's staff and other fans of their work).

What's the deal with your avatar?

That is a "snoop", a stylized human figure serving as the mascot of Eureka! Designed by @theblackwarden, these little guys appear throughout the rulebook to graphically represent various mechanics, and they're very fun designs. This one, in particular, represents the "anime wolfgirl", which is a humanoid form that wolfman (aka "loup-garou" or "Hollywood werewolf") investigators can take, reserving only their ears, tails, and claws.

I have more questions!

My ask box is open! Have fun checking out the other posts around this blog :)

[snapdragoned]

alternative university ideas 🤔💭

so i've been trying to think through how i want to handle university in my game. i like the idea of my sims having at least a round to "go to college" (whatever that looks like) before they transition into full adulthood. but i honestly hate university the way it works in the game and never look forward to university rounds. i hate grinding to fill up a performance meter with no real-world use for my sims. the skill points are nice, but i dread the homework/term paper side of it.

so i'm thinking i could create a single lot that has classrooms and practical skilling areas, both for standard skills and talent badges. kind of a cross between a community college and a community center. i could have my newly adult sims stay there for a round in a mocked up dorm and pursue whatever they want for 5-6 days and move out significantly more talented than they came. i was planning to use the sim blender/visitor controller to teleport relevant sims in and make them selectable to use skilling objects to make the lot seem less empty. i think there are 3 practical ways to do this:

an apartment - make an apartment building with only a few small units. the common areas would be the classrooms. the pros of this are that my sim could actually live there and pay reasonable rent (i could depreciate/tweak the rent with pescado's magic wand, or cheat them enough money for rent). the cons are that non-students could move in, and that i'd have to either knock down walls or use cheats to make the apartments bigger if i'm sending multiple people to college at once. and just the general bugginess of apartments could be an issue.

an owned business - make a random sim own the college campus, take them to the lot, and transport/make selectable the students i want to play. this is closest to how other simmers handle playable schools (to my knowledge). the pros are that i'd have more freedom with it not being an apartment and it would have more activity as a business. the cons are that i feel like i'd need additional mods to make this work and some tweaking to adjust the business aspect to not interfere. would i be able to have the business owner/visitors sleep there overnight for multiple days to mimic a dorm? i don't know! i've never tried it. i feel like there's potential for issues there.

a college dorm - make a dorm in the university subhood and cheat the college progress bars full/manually stop students from going to class, then let them do whatever in their downtime. the cons are that i honestly don't even want to fuck with the university subhood anymore and i'd either have find new mods or micromanage my sims to make sure they didn't go to class. the pros are that it would auto-populate with dormies and there wouldn't be any issues with trying to finagle a dorm.

i don't know! just thinking out loud a little here... any feedback/ideas for mods are totally welcome! if you play university differently than how the EP was meant to be played, i'd love to hear your thoughts in the reblogs/replies.

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 13)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 4,566

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12

Two weeks later…

With some delay and following further investigations into your past and present, you finally arrived at Los Alamos and were shown around the civilian quarters by Officer Nichols.

Officer Nichols had been told to keep an eye on you, and when he made some remarks again about your integrity and relationship with Dr. Oppenheimer, you felt as though you were being singled out.

This, of course, did not surprise you as, at least for now, no one in the department believed that you were here on merit, and you knew that you had to make sure that, soon, you would be known for your work and intellect rather than the fact that you were sleeping with the man who oversaw the project.

Just like Robert Oppenheimer, you had a brilliant mind, and even your lecturers at Harvard, some of whom were here now, concurred with this.

According to Robert Serber, for example, there was a good reason Robert wanted you in Los Alamos, which was your good understanding of how atoms work. You were young and had an open mind for new-age physics. You had a belief that had not been tainted by the old teachings that were no longer relevant, and, most importantly, you had a great desire to progress in your career. You only learned from the best in the field, including Hans Bethe and Robert Oppenheimer himself, and this made you who you were.

As such, you were welcomed by most scientists in your field, and you, indeed, were not the only student working on the project. There were three of you now, and you all were once students of Robert Oppenheimer or Hans Bethe.

Since most scientists on the project were men, however, you almost ended up in the communications room by mistake, as Officer Nichols pointed out that, realistically, you had no place here. Physics was still a male-dominated field, and you quickly realized that even the living quarters assigned to all the female workers were rather primitive.

Like all the other single women, you were assigned to live at T-101, a civilian women’s dormitory that housed women civilians or non-military staff working for the Manhattan Project.

The dormitory was outside the designated project area, as were all of the scientist’s lodges of those scientists who arrived at Los Alamos with their families or who were well known and more important than you.

This, of course, included Robert, who had a large house located about three hundred meters from T-101 and, according to Lilli Horing, another female scientist you met during your first hour at Los Alamos, he and some of the other scientists occasionally hosted dinner parties, to which one was lucky to be invited.

“I don’t see Dr. Oppenheimer as a cook,” you joked, seeing that Lilli already knew that, before being assigned to this project, you had studied under Robert Oppenheimer himself and therefore had built a professional relationship with him.

“Of course, he doesn’t cook himself. There is staff here who cooks for everyone, and food is catered to the lodgings. That is, of course, unless the wives of these great minds are around. They seem to be bored here and cook and bake all day. I couldn’t imagine anything worse,” your newfound friend said with great amusement.

“Neither could I,” you told Lilli before she took you around T-101 and showed you to your room and the adjacent facilities.

***

Unlike many other women in T-101, you and Lilli each had your room with a bathroom you shared. Your space was set out primitively, and you were glad you took some books with you, although you had nowhere to put them.

In your room, there was a small bed and a small desk. You had army blankets, sheets, towels, and washcloths, all of which had the words “USED” written on them, making you chuckle.

“It stands for United States Engineer Detachment,” Lillie luckily informed you, and, no doubt, you would soon all have great jokes about your “used” linens.

“Now, we start to work at 9 o’clock, and you should probably report to your superior beforehand,” Lilli said before asking you who you were meant to report to.

“Doctor Oppenheimer,” you told her, causing her to laugh.

“No, I mean, who are you reporting to directly?” she chuckled.

“Dr. Oppenheimer,” you repeated before telling her you were assigned one of the plutonium research teams.

“You are a student, and get your team?” Lilli asked, surprised.

“Yeah, it is quite specific, however. We are only three people working on it, and I have done some research back at Harvard on a similar matter which I hope will come in handy now that my other professor has resigned from the project. Don’t ask me why it is relevant because Robert did not tell me, and I am sure I cannot tell you, but…’ you began to say, which is when Lilli interrupted. 

“Robert?” she asked, surprised that you referred to Robert Oppenheimer by his first name. Only his wife Kitty called him that, whereas most older scientists called him Oppie, and the younger ones still used his full title as it was most polite.

“I meant Dr. Oppenheimer,” you corrected yourself before asking her where Robert’s office was so that you could report to him.

Ten minutes later…

Ten minutes later, after you cleared the project site’s security, you arrived at Robert’s office, which was centrally located between the laboratories and other buildings.

His secretary, Claire, let you into his office after confirming your name and position at the complex. Still, Robert did not notice you sneaking up on him as he was transfixed on one of the calculations presented to him by Hans Bethe.

“Good Morning, Doctor Oppenheimer,” you thus said while resting your hand on his shoulders, startling him, and, for a short moment, he even cursed before finally turning around to face you.

“You are here? Already?” Robert asked with surprise just as you smiled at him, caressed his face, and then attempted to kiss him, which he would not permit in his office.

“I missed you,” you told him nonetheless, and even though he missed you too, he could not help but chuckle.

“It has only been two weeks,” Robert told you, seeing that he had visited you in San Francisco two weeks ago.

“I know, but I am increasingly thirsty for your attention these days, so…” you began to say, causing Robert to pull you aside into a corner of his office that was, from the door, not visible to his secretary, he thought.

“You have no idea how much I have looked forward to this day,” Robert said without noticing that his secretary was looking through the small glass plate on the door to his office. “But we cannot do anything inappropriate here,” he told you, chuckling while now caressing your face.

“Why? Is this office bugged too?” you joked, seeing that this would not have been the first-time army officials were listening to you having sex.

“Not as far as I know, but my secretary can usually hear a pin drop, and you are not exactly quiet when it comes to our usual interactions. Despite, I have to get to work, and so do you,” Robert told you, trying to put you into your place, which is when you looked at your watch and shook your head.

“No, professor, we still have about twenty minutes before work hours commence, and I can guarantee that I will be working much more efficiently if my sexual needs are met,” you giggled, causing Robert to interrupt you.

“Fine. But you have to be quiet, and I have to be quick. Come on,” Robert told you before pulling you into another small room, being a side office of some sort, which was not quite as lovely as his own and belonged to one of the army officials who called in sick that day.

“Officer Kent, huh?” you asked as you found yourself inside this dingy, dodgy-looking office with the officer’s name written on the door.

“Well, he listened to us having sex in San Francisco, so it seems reasonable to use his desk now as a trade-off, wouldn’t you say?” Robert told you, and, at this moment, you were okay with that.

“Despite, I doubt that he would have planted listening devices into his own office, so maybe we have some privacy here,” Robert then joked, and you could no longer withstand it. You wanted him, even if he would immediately bend you over the desk without any foreplay.

“I suppose you could be right” You swallowed harshly just as Robert leaned against you, pressing you against the desk and kissing you again.

Your mouths were connected now. Your tongues were swirling, darting, and exploring each other while the kiss refused to end.

His hands were moving up your sides, gently pressing in against the swell of your breasts. At the same time, you dug your fingernails into his back and then grabbed hold of his neck, desperately pulling his face closer to you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and you were lost in a trance.

‘Come on, I want to taste you,’ Robert said after your lips drifted apart, and within a second, he lifted you onto the desk.

“You have been,” you pointed out, teasing and responding to his comment, but Robert laughed.

“You know exactly what I meant by that, and you also know that this is my favorite thing to do,” he said, placing a finger onto your soft lips before tracing the same finger over your body, slowly downwards.

Without bothering to undress you, he pushed your blouse beneath your breasts, massaging them and kissing them roughly before his hands slid beneath your skirt in haste, and he pulled down your panties.

‘So wet already, my love,’ he pointed out as he touched your naked mound. ‘Spread your legs for me,’ Robert ordered as he stepped back, and you complied with his request and watched on.

‘Okay, Robert. I am all yours,’ you said eagerly, waiting for him, with your breasts and mound exposed while he watched you contently before, with a smirk, approaching the desk again.

‘Spread your legs wider,’ he then demanded, and without thought, your legs parted some more, and his head disappeared in between them almost eagerly.

Without warning, his tongue immediately located the hood of your clit, causing you to scream out loud.

Your reaction made him smile as, with all of the anticipation, cold sweat beaded up on your brow.

‘You taste incredible as always,’ Robert groaned as his tongue kept swirling around your clit and then, occasionally, slid up and down in between your slit, lapping up your juices.

You flooded your channel as Robert almost sent you over the edge with his skilled tongue alone, and, at that moment, two of his fingers slid over your wet folds, slowly parting your well-lubricated lips and entering you.

‘Oh, Jesus, ’ you groaned as your flower opened and the invaders found their way to your g-spot.

He manipulated you, edging you slowly with his thrusting fingers and tongue. He had you on the brink, and you were about cum.

‘Robert! Fuck!’ you moaned again as chills ran up both your legs, and you trembled involuntarily. Your orgasm hit you immediately, fast, hard, and somewhat unexpectedly.

You came all around Robert’s fingers within five minutes, and while you were almost embarrassed by how quickly you came, he was rather pleased with himself.

‘I missed you and how needy you are for my touch,’ he observed as you finally came down from your high and gasped for air.

‘We will have much fun together here,’ Robert then said as you had finally recovered from your intense orgasm, following which he pulled you off the desk.

Then he stepped closer to you and immediately started undoing his belt buckle and opening his fly. With a smile on your face, you unzipped his fly. You grabbed the waistband of his pants and his briefs and began slowly tugging them down.

“I want to taste you now,” you said as, first, you saw his pubic hair, then the top of his cock, and as you pulled his briefs further down, his cock sprang forth in all its erect glory.  

“There is no time for that now. We are running out of time, and I need to be inside of you,” he told you before pulling you off the desk and planting another kiss on your lips.

‘Now around and lean over the desk,” Robert instructed, and just after you complied with his request, he lifted your skirt.

“You get a better view than me. That’s not fair,” you teased, seeing that Robert could watch his cock disappear inside you repeatedly while all you could see was an empty chalkboard.

‘I do, and it is a pretty perfect view, actually,” Robert whispered as he slid his fingers between your thighs to rub your slit. You moaned loudly in response, ready and eager to feel him.

‘I cannot wait to fill you with my cum every day now, knowing that, when you are out working at the lab, you will still have it inside of you all day long’ he then groaned as his fingers slid back and forth gently in a teasing manner.

‘You know Robert, this could get very distractive for me,’ you told him while his eyes heated further as he gazed down at your wet slit, and his eyes devoured it as his hands grasped onto your thighs and slid upwards. His palms ran over your hips and circled back until he held your soft, round ass in his hands. With a light grunt, he squeezed it roughly with his fingers as his cock twitched between them.

‘I am certain that you will do just fine,’ he rasped thickly, and the thought of leaking his cum all day, every day, turned you on incredibly.

‘Hmm…Robert, ’ you moaned as his words seemed to break you from your daze as you looked over your shoulder. Your expression was that of someone who desperately needed to be fucked.

As your gazes met, he trailed one hand over your hip, sliding the tips of his fingers across your stomach. Tilting his head slightly, his hand slid low, and his palm brushed your mound before two fingers slid between your moist lips as he searched for your opening.

When he quickly found it and pushed inside of you, you reacted with a moan of approval. Your eyes widened, and your hands lifted to grip the desk before you to steady yourself as your entire body jerked.

He groaned at the feel of you. ‘You are so tight, fuck’ he told you thickly in amazement. His fingers pushed more profoundly, and you tensed further and cried out with lust.

‘Oh god,’ you moaned as his fingers explored your insides.

‘Shhhh, we don’t want anyone to hear us,’ Robert said as he slipped his fingers from you and raised his hand to drop them into your mouth.

‘Now, see how good you tase,’ he said, pulling them out and reaching for your hips to pull you closer. Once you were positioned where he wanted you, he leaned forward slightly.

Gripping his cock in one hand, he took hold of your hips with the other to hold you in place as he slid the head between your folds. It glided along your slippery gash until it reached your ass, then he slid it back toward your clit. He rubbed himself back and forth as your fingers dug into the desk.

‘I need you inside of me,’ you gasped with need.

‘That’s good because that is exactly where I want to be,’ Robert groaned before slipping his cock into your entrance.

Then, Robert gripped both of your hips in his hands and roughly pulled you against him as his shaft pushed deep inside of you while a long moan escaped him.

‘God, you're so tight still,’ he breathed again as you moaned loudly.

Slipping out slightly, he rocketed into you again, barely noticing your wince of pleasure as you moaned against his palm, which had now come up to your mouth to stifle your moans.

‘Fuck’ he breathed, loving the feel of your clenched walls around him, and when you were filled to the hilt, he let out a roar of pleasure as you cried out just as his hand had trailed away from your face.

Pausing only a moment to enjoy how it felt, he leaned over you and clamped his fingers over your mouth again as he roughly began to fuck you from behind.

You moaned into the palm of his hand as his cock slammed into you repeatedly as his breathing grew labored.

Burying his face against your neck, he slid his other hand between you to grip one of your breasts and massaged the soft skin before pinching your nipple. The action made your muffled cries of pleasure grow louder. The sounds only enhanced him, and he moaned against your ear as he plowed into you.

‘Do you like having me inside of you like this?’ he asked in a pant.

‘Yes, Robert. Fuck’ you moaned as he began to ram into you hard. Then he paused, then swirled his hips in a small circle.

‘Good,’ he groaned as a shudder rocked through him, and he began to viciously pound between your legs again, causing you to almost scream against his palm.

His lips parted against your neck as his body moved on top of you. He emphasized each thrust he made with his hips by grunting softly while uttering words of encouragement into your ear.

‘That's right,’ he panted. ‘Spread your legs wide for me,’ he groaned as he looked down between you.

When he saw his cock pushing between your folds, forcing its way in, he let out another low-pitched groan and stilled with only the tip inside you. Gazing down at it hypnotically, he slid in fast, then slowly pulled out until only the head was buried. Pushing forward slowly, he felt your hotly clutching around him, grasping at his shaft.

‘Oh my god…’ you moaned as he continued thrusting into you, and you knew you were close.

Lifting his head and straightening his back, he plunged into you hard and looked down at you. Your back was arched slightly, and you continued to moan loudly into his palm until you suddenly began to shiver.

‘That’s it, cum for me,’ Robert groaned as you came hard and fast and began twisting his hips as he went in and out of you.

After you came, he released your mouth and gripped it onto the sides of your waist. Losing himself, he began thrusting into you relentlessly until, finally, he came as well with a loud groan.

Hot spurts of cum jetted from his body deeply into yours, and as it flowed out of him, he stiffened and pressed himself as deep as he could get, pressing tight against your cervix. His entire body shuddered, and when it ended, he was still. His fingers eased away from your hips, and he pulled out, making some of his cum leak out of you almost immediately and thereby giving you a sensational feeling until, suddenly, you were interrupted by Robert’s secretary.

“Dr. Oppenheimer, there is a problem at the testing side,” she said while looking at you with disgust as you quickly collected your panties from the floor, and while she did not see what exactly you were doing, it was obvious to her.

“At this hour?” Robert asked before excusing himself to deal with the situation on hand, which, unbeknownst to you then, would change history forever. The techniques currently used by the team did not work, and you were one of the scientists brought to Los Alamos to fix it.

You mentioned it to Robert in the past when talking about stars, and this conversation with you on dark matter gave him ideas that he is now out to implement.

“Actually, Y/N, I want you to come with me and look at the problem. Maybe we can find a solution together,” he thus said, turning around and then reaching for your hand, which was a gesture that both surprised and confused you and his secretary who, when you left to follow Robert, made contact with Kitty.

“Do you remember the student you enquired about a while ago?” she asked Robert’s wife after she had picked up the phone, currently residing in San Francisco.

“Y/N Y/LN? From Robert’s department at Berkley?” Kitty ought to clarify.

“Yes. Her. She is here, at Los Alamos, working for your husband. I thought that you should know,” she told her, which, of course, gave Kitty something to think about.

[elephantlovemedleys]

medieval women week (day four)

favourite non-royal woman: christina of markyate (1095-1155)

Christina of Markyate was born with the name Theodora in Huntingdon, England, within 1095–1098 and died in 1155. She was an anchoress, who came from a wealthy English family trying to accommodate with the Normans at that time. Later on she became the prioress of a community of nuns. Her mother told a story of “knowing” her daughter would be holy because a dove had flown into her sleeve and lived there for seven days while she was pregnant. Theodora visited St Alban’s Abbey in Hertfordshire with her parents as a teenager, and the visit apparently instilled in her a deep faith that prompted her to make a private vow of chastity. Christina found shelter with a sub deacon of St Alban’s Abbey, whose cell was at Markyate. She spent her time in prayer, sewing to support herself. She was a skilled needlewoman, who later embroidered three meters of superb workmanship for Pope Adrian IV. Christina’s hagiography is considered to be one of the most realistic that we know of. Some parts still follow the typical route of hagiographies, a vow of chastity, overcoming all obstacles including marriage, and even being an anchoress, although it is incomplete as parts of it were lost in a fire in the 18th century and it is unknown whether the biographer wrote the account before or after her death.

[mirl0-turdusmerula]

Been thinking a lot about where Kim would live pre-canon.

A tiny matchbox appartment in the Industrial Harbour.

So yeah, I wrote a ficlet. Slice of life / long ass description of a normal evening and Kim arriving home, making dinner, revising notes and doing Volta do Mar.

1200 words. Full text below the cut.

Midsummer night

The heavenly sound falls out as the motor carriage's engine comes to a stop. Inside the Precinct 57 garage, the Coupris Kineema stands out among the four other non-sports model MCs. Although different models, they all share the same blue paint and bear the corp's halogen white stripe across their side. The five of them also sleep there (guarded), to the Lieutenant's dislike. But he understands. Neither he nor his station can afford to be the object of street junior delinquency.

The Lieutenant steps out—end of the day.

He mutters a goodbye to the security guard and closes the Station's service door behind him. If it weren't for the white rectangular sign bearing the RCM initials and new motto ("Justice, Union, Prudence and Force"), this repurposed industrial warehouse could be mistaken for any of the similar buildings that surround it. The streets are wide and level, but the asphalt leaves almost no room for the sidewalk. He marches home late August evening, dodging vans, containers, and badly parked MCs trailers.

He makes a stop at a little green kiosk in the corner of an intersection, –"Evening, officer"– and buys the usual newspaper, and today too, a pack of 'Astras' (it is Friday). Back straight, steady voice, firm hands.

He finally arrives at his destined warehouse. Once housing an R&D department of the Feld-Electric company, its old-style brick atéliers have been repurposed into apartments.

Black mailboxes sit at the side of the main barred door. One of them, in the third row says: "Kim Kitsuragi". The Officer produces a key from a pocket in his aerostatic jacket's interior lining and unlocks the door. A long and narrow hallway extends before him, with storage rooms opening on either side. At the end of it, there is a not-too-dirty communal bathroom and a spiral metal staircase that leads to the upper floor. The Officer takes a quick detour to the communal bathroom, and his boots make a thump, thump noise as he comes up the stairs. He produces another key. This one is smaller and more intricate and unlocks a reinforced wooden door.

With a soft click he eases himself inside. The matchbook-sized room is orderly, bright, and well-kept. In just 6 by 2'5 meters, Kitsuragi's private life unfolds. Being a repurposed industrial atélier, the construction is sturdy: brick walls, exposed cables and plumbing, and hydraulic tiles floor, in the old-fashioned dideridada style. Opposite to the door, a grand paneled industrial window covers the entire wall, from floor to ceiling, where it bends and becomes a skylight.

Kitsuragi closes the door behind him and locks it. Two turns. Key left in the keyhole. Still on the doormat he takes off his uniform. Black heavy police boots, off. Orange aerostatic pilot jacket, off. Utility belt off. Under-arm holster and pistol off. Everything is neatly left on a shelf and some hooks beside the door.

Kitsuragi's bare feet make straight for the workbench on the left wall. On the shelf above it, is a Wowshi 12-Prefect two-way radio system for station calls. Long-cable headphones are firmly attached to the 4.5 mm port. The sound system is never used without the headphones, and the headphones never leave the room. He dones them, and the long chord follows him around the room. Kitsuragi presses the saved station button, and after a moment of static, he begins to hum half-consciously to the familiar sounds. The room is filled with ecstatic vibrations, totally translucent to the rest of the world.

He starts cooking dinner.

There is not a kitchen per se, but the original atélier's stainless steel sink and worktop, paired with a portable gas stove serves the purpose well. It also serves as a wash basin, in tandem with the mirror cabinet mounted to the wall next to it.

Rattling pots, a flame, boiling water. His foot taps along the beating pulses.

Kitsuragi leads a steaming plate of Samaran fast noodles to his wooden workbench (and only table) and sits in a rolling steel chair that probably came with the tenement. He sits crouched, one leg hugged and the other one hanging, headphones still on his head, although he has stopped the music. He is revising notes from his blue A6 Mnemonic, jotting down more nearly illegible lines, careful not to drop the spicy sauce on it. Filled (and yet to be filled) similar notebooks rest in boxes beside the table.

Above the workbench, a corkboard and some shelves. Pinned in the center, between other notes, is a map of Revachol West. Boroughs, streets, and motorways cut across the web of canals. It's up for display rather than reference. The 8/81 traverses Kim from the base of his column to the top of his skull.

On the shelves, Kim's quaint collection of hobbies: some Wirrâl dice, tiny franconigerian figurines, Jamrock Slam tabloids, some second-hand mechanical manuals, Jacob Irw's Tiptop Tournée racecar miniature, some sci-fci novellas… Most of these bric-à-bas are from the last few years when his higher lieutenant's salary allowed him some stability. With the raise also came a tiny black box that now sits in the corner, bearing a white halogen rectangle. Inside, a mémoire.

He lights an 'Astra Menthol', and absent-mindedly taps the ash onto a tray in between inhalings. The noodles grow cold as Kitsuragi writes and rewrites in his notebook. No crosswords for tonight. He doesn't mind, and his gaze certainly does not fall on the tiny black box.

Sometime later, when the Astra is consumed, the chair rolls back, and Kitsuragi stands and reignites the music. The multi-purpose pre-installed sink becomes the star of the room again. Dishes and then teeth. He does not have a personal shower (he uses the communal one in the morning), but fenilely takes advantage of his private faucet to wash off the usual dirt, sweat, and grime. Blood sometimes.

One last stretch and Kitsuragi sits legs-crossed on the steel-framed bed below the window. He takes off his glasses and headphones. No verres, no smokes, no music, no gloves. He settles down for Volta do Mar.

Y del trueno,

al son violento,

y del viento

al rebramar,

yo me duermo

sosegado

arrullado

por la mar.

(And from thunder, to the violent tone, and from the wind to the roar. I sleep, soothed, lulled, by the sea. )

It is an old boiadero song. Written by a man in the Plains who never saw the sea, now popular among entroponauts who long for the day they see the open sky again.

Outside the window, the summer sun is setting down in the Great Industrial Harbour, and the low rumble of cranes and lorries is slowly fading out. A shimmer in between two eternite rooftops: the sea. The sound of cargoships horns arriving at the port and the screeching of seagulls. Smoke rising from the chimneys fades into lazy clouds. High above, the sound of rotors and the beams of floodlights. Although Kim is not able to see the Coalition airships, he is acutely aware of their presence.

An empty pot on the windowsill. No flowers grow here anymore.

Kim's breathing steadies, his chest rising and falling as the sunlight recedes and the stars appear. Invisible, obscured by the helium streetlights. Next to him, a nightstand and two objects on top: a pair of hyperopia diamond-shaped glasses, and a single-shot Kiejl A9 Armistice. Loaded.