#Steep Learning Group

[grrlmusic]

Satisfy

#Satisfy #Stoner #Steep Learning Group

[grrl-beetle]

Steep Learning Group for Satisfy

#Steep Learning Group #Satisfy #design #type #logo

[kedreeva]

Do you know things about peacock pheasants that you could share? (Any variety, I think they’re super cool and would love to keep some someday maybe)

I do not know very much about peacock pheasants, since I've never kept nor wanted to keep them, but I know that they are a very uncommon, expensive, difficult-to-keep pheasant regardless of which species. I have a friend that keeps a pair, or was keeping a pair of palawans (I think she lost the hen this winter), and even though she keeps peafowl and a few other types of fowl, and has kept himalayan monals before even, these were worse. My understanding is that they need a lot of space, and are delicate, wild birds.

Unless you have a lot of experience keeping pheasants in general, I'd pick a different, hardier breed that is a bit cheaper, like some mutant ringnecks or even varieties of golden pheasant. They're both sought after for pelts and/or meat, and pretty widely available. Even silver or amhearst are easier finds, easier to keep alive, and cheaper to acquire than peacock pheasants (and I mean like, there's a COUPLE of peacock pheasant breeders in the entire US and babies are HUNDREDS of dollars and you'll be on a waitlist, vs if you have $5-20 and are willing to lose sleep for a night you can go get a ringneck or a golden pheasant morph from a bird swap or livestock auction basically every weekend in the summer here) and less of a loss to the community of keepers as a whole if you make mistakes and lose a bird. Obviously no one wants to lose any bird, but the impact to the breeding pool for peacock pheasants is so much greater a loss than it would be for the others, it's just not worth the risk to try to start there, both for you and for the birds.

#peacock pheasants #asks #I don't want to be mean about it #but keeping them is intimidatingly difficult even for people with a lot of experience #and even setting aside the thousand dollars or more loss if you screw up #the hit to the breeding pool would make me ill if it were me raising them #Like they're beautiful birds and there's PROBABLY an amount you could pay me to keep them #but it would be steep enough to include a facility custom built for them #my advice is go join groups for keeping them and spend many years learning from others #and then see if you even LIKE keeping pheasants first #it took me a long time to come to the conclusion I hate keeping chickens #and they're cheap

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks

YA contemporary + a little sff

follows a boy who suddenly finds himself able to teleport when he walks through doors, often against his will

and has to figure that out while dealing with a new crush, the end of high school and the queer club, and figuring out whether he definitely wants to train to be an ASL interpreter like his father

#Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks #aroaessidhe 2024 reads #this was def one that is just a short YA book to read that was available at the library and i’d seen it has an ace SC so why not #It's fine! a little silly and definitely quirky. felt very 2018-queer-ya #both in use of the random sf element and also like. mc has a big friend group in every flavor #talked about addressed queer discourse in a relevant way most of the time (ie what’s the difference between bi and pan? whatever u want) #I thought the inclusion of ASL and the MC planning to be an interpreter - and the steep learning curve of that - was interesting #I think the ace character was done mostly well but a) why did it bring it up in a way that his aceness inherently took him out of the MC’s #(as the ace char still goes on dates with boys) #and b) why was the ace character ostricised from the queer club and not the guy who was aphobic to him #The sf thing is a little random but I feel like it gelled ok. It fit pretty well within this subgenre of #‘contemporary YA with a little sff but the sff is just there for the MC’s journey and it’s still mainly contemporary ‘ #the whole secret agents thing was a bit silly. but also it kinda worked with the quirkiness.

[prokopetz]

I think a lot of folks in indie RPG spaces misunderstand what's going on when people who've only ever played Dungeons & Dragons claim that indie RPGs are categorically "too complicated". Yes, it's sometimes the case that they're making the unjustified assumption that all games are as complicated as Dungeons & Dragons and shying away from the possibility of having to brave a steep learning cure a second time, but that's not the whole picture.

A big part of it is that there's a substantial chunk of the D&D fandom – not a majority by any means, but certainly a very significant minority – who are into D&D because they like its vibes or they enjoy its default setting or whatever, but they have no interest in actually playing the kind of game that D&D is... so they don't.

Oh, they'll show up at your table, and if you're very lucky they might even provide their own character sheet (though whether it adheres to the character creation guidelines is anyone's guess!), but their actual engagement with the process of play consists of dicking around until the GM tells them to roll some dice, then reporting what number they rolled and letting the GM figure out what that means.

Basically, they're putting the GM in the position of acting as their personal assistant, onto whom they can offload any parts of the process of play that they're not interested in – and for some players, that's essentially everything except the physical act of rolling the dice, made possible by the fact most of D&D's mechanics are either GM-facing or amenable to being treated as such.*

Now, let's take this player and present them with a game whose design is informed by a culture of play where mechanics are strongly player facing, often to the extent that the GM doesn't need to familiarise themselves with the players' character sheets and never rolls any dice, and... well, you can see where the wires get crossed, right?

And the worst part is that it's not these players' fault – not really. Heck, it's not even a problem with D&D as a system. The problem is D&D's marketing-decreed position as a universal entry-level game means that neither the text nor the culture of play are ever allowed to admit that it might be a bad fit for any player, so total disengagement from the processes of play has to be framed as a personal preference and not a sign of basic incompatibility between the kind of game a player wants to be playing and the kind of game they're actually playing.

(Of course, from the GM's perspective, having even one player who expects you to do all the work represents a huge increase to the GM's workload, let alone a whole group full of them – but we can't admit that, either, so we're left with a culture of play whose received wisdom holds that it's just normal for GMs to be constantly riding the ragged edge of creative burnout. Fun!)

* Which, to be clear, is not a flaw in itself; a rules-heavy game ideally needs a mechanism for introducing its processes of play gradually.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design

[gowns]

Why Kids Aren't Falling in Love With Reading - It's Not Just Screens

A shrinking number of kids are reading widely and voraciously for fun.

The ubiquity and allure of screens surely play a large part in this—most American children have smartphones by the age of 11—as does learning loss during the pandemic. But this isn’t the whole story. A survey just before the pandemic by the National Assessment of Educational Progress showed that the percentages of 9- and 13-year-olds who said they read daily for fun had dropped by double digits since 1984. I recently spoke with educators and librarians about this trend, and they gave many explanations, but one of the most compelling—and depressing—is rooted in how our education system teaches kids to relate to books.

What I remember most about reading in childhood was falling in love with characters and stories; I adored Judy Blume’s Margaret and Beverly Cleary’s Ralph S. Mouse. In New York, where I was in public elementary school in the early ’80s, we did have state assessments that tested reading level and comprehension, but the focus was on reading as many books as possible and engaging emotionally with them as a way to develop the requisite skills. Now the focus on reading analytically seems to be squashing that organic enjoyment. Critical reading is an important skill, especially for a generation bombarded with information, much of it unreliable or deceptive. But this hyperfocus on analysis comes at a steep price: The love of books and storytelling is being lost.

This disregard for story starts as early as elementary school. Take this requirement from the third-grade English-language-arts Common Core standard, used widely across the U.S.: “Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in a text, distinguishing literal from nonliteral language.” There is a fun, easy way to introduce this concept: reading Peggy Parish’s classic, Amelia Bedelia, in which the eponymous maid follows commands such as “Draw the drapes when the sun comes in” by drawing a picture of the curtains. But here’s how one educator experienced in writing Common Core–aligned curricula proposes this be taught: First, teachers introduce the concepts of nonliteral and figurative language. Then, kids read a single paragraph from Amelia Bedelia and answer written questions.

For anyone who knows children, this is the opposite of engaging: The best way to present an abstract idea to kids is by hooking them on a story. “Nonliteral language” becomes a whole lot more interesting and comprehensible, especially to an 8-year-old, when they’ve gotten to laugh at Amelia’s antics first. The process of meeting a character and following them through a series of conflicts is the fun part of reading. Jumping into a paragraph in the middle of a book is about as appealing for most kids as cleaning their room.

But as several educators explained to me, the advent of accountability laws and policies, starting with No Child Left Behind in 2001, and accompanying high-stakes assessments based on standards, be they Common Core or similar state alternatives, has put enormous pressure on instructors to teach to these tests at the expense of best practices. Jennifer LaGarde, who has more than 20 years of experience as a public-school teacher and librarian, described how one such practice—the class read-aloud—invariably resulted in kids asking her for comparable titles. But read-alouds are now imperiled by the need to make sure that kids have mastered all the standards that await them in evaluation, an even more daunting task since the start of the pandemic. “There’s a whole generation of kids who associate reading with assessment now,” LaGarde said.

By middle school, not only is there even less time for activities such as class read-alouds, but instruction also continues to center heavily on passage analysis, said LaGarde, who taught that age group. A friend recently told me that her child’s middle-school teacher had introduced To Kill a Mockingbird to the class, explaining that they would read it over a number of months—and might not have time to finish it. “How can they not get to the end of To Kill a Mockingbird?” she wondered. I’m right there with her. You can’t teach kids to love reading if you don’t even prioritize making it to a book’s end. The reward comes from the emotional payoff of the story’s climax; kids miss out on this essential feeling if they don’t reach Atticus Finch’s powerful defense of Tom Robinson in the courtroom or never get to solve the mystery of Boo Radley.

... Young people should experience the intrinsic pleasure of taking a narrative journey, making an emotional connection with a character (including ones different from themselves), and wondering what will happen next—then finding out. This is the spell that reading casts. And, like with any magician’s trick, picking a story apart and learning how it’s done before you have experienced its wonder risks destroying the magic.

-- article by katherine marsh, the atlantic (12 foot link, no paywall)

[sovenusian]

Matured Energy of Each Sun Sign

(does not to relate to what age you are.)

A matured Aries is a master communicator and story teller, they can easily pull and hold the attention of the crowd on them, only this time it is to shine light on something beyond them, and it's usually the wisdom they have gathered on their spiritual journey of having the self as the center of their wants and needs.

A matured Taurus is the tamed bull. They become much more calm and understanding of ways of life and mindsets differing from their own, and don't feel the need to make known, how thorough their stances on their beliefs are. They loosen up a bit, like a Cane Corso allowing a rambunctious chihuahua to feign dominance.

A matured Gemini uses the seemingly fractured personality to create genius works and can masterfully connect with any age group or walk of life. They respect they are the embodiment of "I have an idea" but on drugs (lol) and live in that truth. They don't provide tolerance for what they do not like around them.

A matured Cancer stopped being petty and stops wading in the murky waters of emotional manipulation, and starts wielding these energies as gift, for others. You may not find a more generous, selfless, nurturing being. They have the strength to grow other people and bring what's dead back to life.

A matured Leo finally takes more pride in the impact of it's works, more than the ability to do them or be recognized for being the one to do them. They enjoy showing the character traits that truly make them beautiful. The humility they acquire despite having achieved a great deal of refinement, is what becomes what makes them shine at their brightest.

A matured Virgo learned to put themselves, their hearts truly first. Their dutiful and ambitious drives have taught them their accompanying lessons, which are to allow yourself to relax, you are enough, you really are so damn dope, and comparing your output to the logistics was a stressful way to live and that is, the past. It's a death to criticism and a birth to healthy analyzation.

A matured Libra has learned how to be in love with love, in a healthy way. In love with Real Love; with the raw energy and authenticity of it's energy, that way when humans and opportunities come around that claim to be Love, they can be distinguishing and keep their own heart set on what they have learned to be it's truth. They have mastered detachment.

A matured Scorpio has adjusted their perspective, placing the abilities of being extremely passionate and emotionally intense, only in situations that don't create more chaos. Their lifelong journey for true power has moved them into a space where they are more settled and accomplished. They learn the rhythm of life and can finally become selfless, and this is where their energy is truly it's most powerful.

A matured Sagittarius is the ember stage of fire; warm, spreading and long lasting. The knowledge and philosophies acquired over the years are now steeped, grounded in substance and embedded in a person that can finally sit down long enough, and have the patience, to share it's inspirations. Their habit to be generous and spreading have switched out it's impulsive nature for selectivity and self- preservation.

A matured Capricorn drops the shrewdness, and can be an exemplified patriot of what they stood for when they initially started their ambitious climb of hard earned success. They realize just because they are the goats, does not mean anybody and everything are the rocks and steps to ascend upon, and they warm their heart up enough to trust others with their vulnerabilities. They retire their need to be serious for the upholding of the many responsibilities all Capricorns are dealt, and they let that beautiful ability to entertain and bring joy be what they now lead and corale others with.

A matured Aquarius honors the unbeaten path they chose and created by tooth and nail, by sharing with others the lessons learned from it. Their ability to be friendly and connect with anyone, becomes more filled out, & it becomes harder for them to be perceived as disingenuous, because they can now choose the role they'll play in the life of every individual they meet, and share the gems needed like the sages they were born to be. They feel the freedom to become even more obscure.

A matured Pisces is a vessel of universal love. They spend their lives being a collage of all the human personality could offer, from kind to cruel, yielding to stubborn, and they take each lesson from their colorful experiences, and only extract the most optimistic, high frequency wisdom from them. They keep their mystery while their ability to impart love to others unfolds endlessly.

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astro community #astrology signs #zodiac #zodiac side of tumblr #zodiac signs #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

[hamsterclaw]

Black Ice

Bangtan Christmas drabble 7 - read the rest here.

Min Yoongi only cares about three things. The thrill of drifting, his friends, and cars, in that order. Somehow, you've got under his skin. Part of the Drift Kings AU.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Street racer/mechanic! Yoongi, smut

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Min Yoongi knows loneliness. He knows the unrelenting ache of it, the way it permeates every aspect of one’s psyche.

He knows what it feels like to look for a connection that isn’t there.

When he was ten his father took him into work for the first time, and it was then, amongst the smells of engine oil and new paint and pinewood air freshener, that Yoongi discovered his first true love.

He pored over engine diagrams, admired the easy simplicity of every tool falling into its destined purpose, got used to his clothes being stained from tuning up cars all day long.

He’d loved every minute of it, and the truth is, he still does.

Then his cousin Yijin had given him a lift down Mount Samo one day, and 14 year old Yoongi had learned that there was more than one way to soar.

He learned to drive navigating the hairpin bends of Mount Samo, and although he’s perfected the art of drifting up and down it, could do it blindfolded a hundred times over, the thrill of it has never really faded.

He’s picked up a collection of friends over the years, all of whom love the adrenaline of street racing – not knowing what’s round the corner, trusting your own reflexes and instincts to save you when you can barely see for the blood rushing in your veins. 

Kim Seokjin, his oldest and closest friend, the chaebol prince who can put together a Supra’s turbo-2JZ engine almost as quickly as Yoongi himself. His sister, a corporate princess who makes Yoongi’s heart soften and the opposite happen to his cock. They’re the two people Yoongi would do anything for, not that he’d ever tell them that. 

Jung Hoseok, the gifted mechanic with a heart of gold and the sunniest demeanour Yoongi’s ever been able to tolerate, creature of the night that he is. 

Jeon Jungkook, the baby fuckboi of the group, a man with the looks of a god and the persona of a baby deer. Yoongi finds it hard to be anything but endeared by his earnest good nature and anything but amused by his swaggering. Maybe one day the kid will grow into the bad man he so badly wants to be, but Yoongi hopes not. He’s great the way he is. 

It’s been a while since Yoongi felt lonely, in fact his life’s pretty good right about now. 

And at this exact moment? It’s perfect. 

Yoongi’s senses are on overdrive as he swings into a hairpin bend on Mount Samo, tires gripping tarmac sideways. His foot taps the throttle, his hand on the handbrake just in case but he doesn’t need it, he knows the terrain so well his body’s reacting on instinct. 

Sideways on he can see Seokjin to his right, composed, barely breaking a sweat as his rear wheels scrape the very edge of the path, inches from the steep drop. 

Yoongi catches sight of himself in his own rearview mirror, teeth bared in a feral grin as he shoots out onto the final stretch, so fast there’s nothing to see but black. 

He’d normally stop, celebrate his win with a cigarette, but he’s got somewhere to be tonight. 

Behind him now, Seokjin’s headlamps flicker in lieu of a goodbye. 

Yoongi depresses the horn, a sharp short blast, and then he’s gone. 

***

Kang Yubin’s been supplying Yoongi’s father’s garage for years, and Yoongi’s been going to him for car parts since before he knew a spark plug from a catalytic converter. 

The Kang warehouse has an unassuming front in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Seoul. Yoongi parks outside the familiar glass door, can see the dim lighting filtering through the tinted glass as he approaches. 

He pushes open the door, stops, nonplussed. 

Instead of Kang Yubin’s steel-rimmed glasses and grey hair, he’s greeted by you. 

Half your face is obscured by a black face mask, your hair up under a baseball cap, but you’re definitely not who he expected to see. 

He blinks. 

Your eyebrows rise. 

‘Are you lost?’ you inquire, an edge to your voice that pulls him out of his surprised reaction and reminds him why he’s here. 

‘I was expecting Mr Kang,’ Yoongi replies. 

Coming closer to the counter he picks up on a guardedness to your posture, a weariness that you don’t bother to hide. 

‘I’m his granddaughter,’ you say, brief. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t just come here to stare at me, what do you want?’ 

‘Spark plugs – I have a —’ Yoongi breaks off as you get up. 

‘I know who you are, and I know what car you drive. Stay here and I’ll get you your stuff.’

You disappear behind a door, return in minutes with a cardboard box. 

You pull a box-cutter out of a desk drawer, slit the masking tape, pull the flaps up. 

‘Feel free to take a look,’ you say, looking at him. 

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to verify that they’re what he needs. 

‘How do you know who I am?’ he asks, as he pays. 

There’s a faint spark in your eyes, a flicker so quick he wonders if he’s mis-read it. 

‘My grandfather said you were due around this time.’ 

You nudge your shoulder vaguely in the direction of the screen to your left, a view from the camera overlooking the front of the warehouse. ‘Not many people drive a car like that.’ 

You take his money, nudge the box in his direction. 

‘Pleasure doing business, Min Yoongi. I’ll give my grandfather your regards.’ 

You’re already looking back down at your phone like you’ve dismissed him. 

Yoongi picks up the box, casts another glance at you, and leaves. 

He’s still thinking about you when he reaches home. 

***

Yoongi’s concentrating so hard on the engine in front of him that he barely hears Seokjin approach. 

‘Dinner?’ asks Seokjin, eyes flicking over the V configuration of the 8 chrome cylinders in the custom Nissan with interest. 

Yoongi leans back, massages the crick in his neck from leaning over. 

‘Yeah. Quick though, the client wants a rush on this.’ 

They exchange a look. 

‘More money than sense,’ Seokjin says, critical. 

‘Pays the bills,’ Yoongi counters. 

They have similar opinions about rich clients who want their supercars tuned up. It’s rare that a client’s got the ability to do justice to the horsepower under the bonnet of the flashy exteriors. 

Yoongi shrugs, goes to wash his hands. 

‘Is your sister coming?’ he asks. 

Seokjin’s still admiring the engine. ‘Not tonight. Jimin’s in town,’ he says. ‘There’s a race later, if you change your mind. I’m meeting Jungkook after dinner.’ 

‘Is he still sulking over Mijin?’ Yoongi asks, falling into step beside Seokjin. 

There’s no need to confirm where they’re going, they always stop at a tiny restaurant run by an elderly woman who seems utterly unimpressed by their good manners but makes the best broth in town. 

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but his tone is sympathetic. ‘You know how it is. People never expect him to be as soft as he really is.’ 

Yoongi nods. ‘Tell him if she can’t appreciate him she’s the one missing out.’ 

Seokjin snorts. ‘Tell him yourself, he’ll love it. Are you coming to Seulgi’s party?’ 

It’s rare that Yoongi goes out at night, he’s busy and he does his best work at night time, both in the workshop and on the streets, but he’d promised Seokjin he’d go. 

‘Next week?’ he asks. 

Seokjin nods, pushes open the door to the restaurant. 

‘Yeah, don’t forget.’ 

***

Seulgi is a friend of Seokjin’s, they’d dated briefly, years back, but it hadn’t worked out. 

She greets Seokjin enthusiastically at the door, the pink flush on her cheeks deepening as Seokjin gives her an affectionate hug. 

She beams at Yoongi, and he smiles back because he’s not proof against her cheerful nature. 

It’s how he became friends with Hoseok, after all. 

‘Drinks, let me get you drinks,’ Seulgi cheers, leading them into her kitchen. 

Seokjin’s swept away by Seulgi and her friends, he’s always been a popular guy. He shoots Yoongi a look as he’s pulled into the lounge, which Yoongi pretends not to see. 

He lifts his cup to his lips, decides to go outside for a bit. 

The deck outside has a few scattered people, mostly couples, some groups. 

Yoongi leans against the wall, looks around idly. The throbbing bass of the music feels like a heartbeat. The night is cold and crisp, the skies clear, but there aren’t any stars visible in Seulgi’s backyard. 

He lets his mind wander to his next project, restoring a classic Toyota for a friend from the circuit. He’ll need parts. 

He wonders if you’ll be behind the counter when he next goes to the Kang warehouse. Then he’s straightening up, unsure if he’s manifested you into reality. 

He’s never seen your full face, but he’d know your eyes anywhere. 

You’re standing across the deck, looking straight at him, coat open over a dress that shows a hell of a lot more than the hoodie and sweats you had on the last time he saw you. 

For the first time tonight, Yoongi feels a prickle of interest. 

He’d known you’d be beautiful, there’d been something about the way you carried yourself.

You’re still looking at him. 

Yoongi walks over. 

‘Who’s manning the warehouse?’ he asks, when he gets close enough. 

You tilt your head. ‘Are you really so concerned about my family business, Min Yoongi?’ 

There’s a mocking note in your voice, Yoongi finds he likes it. 

‘You have the best quality parts,’ he says. 

Your smile blooms over your face, making your eyes bright. ‘I knew there was a reason my grandfather liked you.’ 

Yoongi nods to your dress. ‘You look pretty.’ 

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘You look pretty too.’

Yoongi can feel his lips curving. Are you flirting with him? Seems like you are.

He’s all for it.

You’re raising your cup now, taking a sip.

In the night time lighting, your lips glisten with moisture and whatever lipstick you’ve got on, making him wonder what they’d look like around his cock.

You eye him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

Yoongi says, ‘Do you like cars? Want to see mine?’

***

You’ve got your legs either side of his torso, your ass bouncing in his lap, and Yoongi’s front seat’s reclined all the way to make room for you to ride him.

The lines of your beautiful body are reminiscent of a triumph of masters of Italian design. Long smooth thighs, tightening around him with every rhythmic thrust. 

The curves of your breasts, bouncing right in his face.

The long line of your neck, head thrown back, the pulse in your throat fluttering as he holds your hips so he can fuck you back, fuck up into your sweet warmth.

His cock fits inside you like he was made for you, and god fucking damn, you feel so good around him he’s on a hair trigger.

Yoongi cups the back of your head, tugs you down so you’re close. Goosebumps prickle your flesh as he tells you how good you are.

Your eyes close as he kisses your bare neck, flicks his tongue against your skin.

You had been whimpering steadily as your arousal dripped down onto him, soaking his balls, pooling at the base of his cock, and as Yoongi picks up the pace he’s gratified by the hitch in your breathing.

Yoongi’s always been damn good at helping his partners find their pleasure, and he’s sure as hell not going to stop now.

Your breasts are still in his face, half out the low neck of your dress, chest heaving.

Yoongi rubs his thumb over the outline of your hardened nipple, and you cry out, muffled with your mouth against his skin but still loud enough to make his ears ring.

His balls tighten up even more as your walls flutter around him, and Yoongi would know you were coming even if you hadn’t gasped it.

God, you’re so sweet and sexy he’s lost.

He can feel your panting breaths against his neck, the weight of your warm body as it goes lax after your peak, the sweet grip of your cunt taking in everything he has to give you as he releases, a pulse of pleasure so intense it sends shockwaves through his skin.

Yoongi’s floating, and like reaching the summit of Mount Samo, he immediately wants to do it again.

You’re looking at him, lips still so swollen and pretty his spent cock gives a residual throb inside you.

‘Like my car?’ Yoongi asks. It’s stupid, but it makes you laugh and he’ll be as stupid as you like if it makes you sound like that.

Your chin lifts, and you say, ‘It’s all right.’

The flash of merriment in your eyes gives you away.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Maybe next time we can get the car started and I can actually take you somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ you tease. ‘Are you a good driver?’

Yoongi reaches out, tucks the lock of hair that’s fallen over your eye behind your ear.

‘Let’s find out,’ he says. ‘Where do you want to go?’

***

Yoongi’s thinking about you the next morning when he wakes up. He’d ended up taking you back to your place, where you’d kissed him sweetly at the door and bid him goodbye like a promise to see him again. 

His phone rings and he’s still got you on his mind, so it takes a second for him to regroup. 

‘The maknae needs help,’ Seokjin says, no preamble. ‘I’m going to swing by yours, be there in ten.’ 

Yoongi hangs up, wonders what the hell Jungkook’s got himself into this time. 

By the time Seokjin arrives, Yoongi’s had time to bolt coffee and change, but Seokjin still raises a brow as he swings into the passenger seat. 

As always, Seokjin’s impeccably dressed, dark hair swept back from his forehead like he’s going to his own fucking wedding instead of about to deal with some shit that’s going down. 

Yoongi suppresses a yawn, tugs his beanie down over his brow. 

‘What’s going down with JK?’ he asks. 

Seokjin cuts off another car so smoothly they’re halfway down the intersection before the irritated horn blares. 

‘Remember that race the other day? Jungkook beat Seungho fair and square, I was there.’ 

Yoongi groans. ‘The fuck. I thought we weren’t going to race that fragile asshole anymore.’ 

Seokjin glances in the rearview. ‘The maknae was still hurting over Mijin, I thought an easy win might make him feel better.’ 

‘So what’s Seungho done?’ 

‘Brought in the big guns,’ Seokjin says grimly. ‘Called in some guys from Hongkong. JK’s with them now.’ 

Now Yoongi’s fully awake. ‘Should’ve taken my car instead of this piece of shit,’ he says. 

Seokjin just laughs. ‘Don’t worry about my car, Yoongi. Maybe think of a way to hide that big–ass hickey on your neck.’ 

‘Suck my dick,’ Yoongi says, like they’re 16 again. 

‘Looks like someone already did,’ Seokjin returns. 

***

Yoongi parks up outside the Kang warehouse, pushes open the door. 

You look up from your phone. Your face mask is off, so Yoongi has the privilege of seeing the way your lips curve in a smile. 

‘There’s been a shipment of fuel injectors,’ you say. ‘Want to take a look?’ 

Yoongi stops just in front of the wooden half-panel that separates you from him. 

He tilts his head. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Also, I took my friend’s Honda for a spin today, I’ve got a list.’ 

He smooths out the piece of paper he’s got folded in his pocket, places it on the counter. 

You pick it up, get up. ‘I’ve got you.’ 

Yoongi runs a hand over the hickey over his neck. ‘I’ve been taking shit all day, about this,’ he adds. 

‘Yeah?’ you ask, but you don’t seem the least bit contrite. ‘You did your share of marking, Min Yoongi.’ 

Yoongi asks, ‘What time do you get off?’ 

You’re about to answer when the door opens. 

Yoongi turns and tenses immediately. 

Fucking Shin Seungho. 

‘You following me?’ he asks mildly. 

Seungho scoffs, doesn’t deign to reply. 

‘I’m collecting an order,’ he says to you. 

Your face mask is back on, your face carefully blank. ‘Sure, what’s the name?’ 

When you go into the back to collect it Seungho turns to Yoongi. 

Yoongi concentrates on the silkscreen of a cat on the wall behind the counter. 

He can feel Seungho’s eyes on his face. 

Just try it, fucker. 

The fact was, he’d pushed Seokjin’s Honda to its limits beating Seungho’s friends today, and although the adrenaline’s ebbed, there’s a thin streak still running through his bloodstream, and he’s a spark away from igniting. 

Seungho takes a step closer, and Yoongi turns to face him like he’s got all the time in the world. 

You return just as Seungho opens his filthy mouth. 

‘Looks like you’ve paid,’ you say, passing the box across the counter to Seungho. 

You pull out the box cutter, slit the package, open it up for him to check, but don’t put it down. 

‘Am I going to have trouble here, boys?’ you ask. 

Seungho barely looks your way, Yoongi’s always known the man lacks vision. 

‘Nah,’ Seungho says finally. He picks up the box, sneers at Yoongi. 

Yoongi blanks his expression. There’s no way he’s going to start shit with Seungho in front of you. 

The asshole’s not worth it. 

As soon as the door closes behind Seungho you put down the box cutter. 

The next words out of your mouth surprise him. 

‘Shit, you’re hot when you’re mad, Yoongi.’ 

Yoongi stares at you, flummoxed, then he laughs. 

‘Just when I’m mad?’ he asks. 

You shrug. ‘Take me out on a date and I’ll tell you more.’ 

‘How about right now?’ Yoongi asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Let’s go.’ 

***

As your grip on his hair loosens, Yoongi lifts his mouth from your cunt, swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Helps you tug your panties back up, smooths your skirt back down over your thighs. 

He notices you’ve still got his cum in the corner of your lips. As he watches, you flick your tongue out, lick delicately. 

His cock stirs with interest, and you act like you know it. 

‘More later?’ you ask. 

‘Yeah. After I win.’ 

Yoongi reaches over to help you with your seatbelt, arranging it across your chest, between your breasts, securing it. 

You lean forward and kiss him as the belt clicks into place. 

Yoongi starts the engine, turns the heating back on because he’s noticed your hands get cold easily. 

‘I can drop you off at home before the race,’ he offers. ‘Come see you after.’ 

‘I want to see you drive,’ you say.

Yoongi wouldn’t say it, but he’s pleased. He knows he’ll keep you safe, it’s a circuit through the city outskirts he’s done a million times, and he’s looking forward to you meeting Seokjin and Hoseok and Jungkook. 

He flicks on the lights, rolls into oncoming traffic. Heads North. 

By the time he pulls up to the starting line there’s the usual crowd gathered. He parks up next to Seokjin and Hoseok.  

In his rearview he can see JK surrounded by people. He’s lost the sad puppy air he had for a few weeks whilst he was pining after Mijin. The kid’s going to be all right, not that Yoongi’s ever had any doubt about that. 

Engines all around him are starting up, a deafening series of rumbles. 

Beside him, Seokjin waves, and Hoseok smiles so brightly it’s blinding. 

The flag waves, and Yoongi accelerates. 

Checks on you in the rearview, and you’re as pretty as he remembers. 

Min Yoongi’s spent a lot of his life looking for connection, and by his reckoning, he’s doing pretty well right about now. 

Lights flash by in a blur. 

Yoongi drives. 

Author note: And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, hope you've enjoyed, here's to a brighter 2024. This time last year we were saying goodbye to Kim Seokjin, I can't wait to start welcoming the boys back again. Happy holidays to you all!

©hamsterclaw 2023

#bangtan christmas #bangtan christmas 2023 #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic

[sailorgoon13]

Mattheo Riddle

Basics:

Full Name: Mattheo Riddle

Nickname: Matt, Matty

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 31 December, 1979

Heritage: English

Blood Status: Half- Blood

Wand: Yew, Dragon Heartstring, 13", Flexible

Appearance:

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Dark brown, almost black in some lighting

Skin Tone: Fair. Porcelain like

Height: 6'2"

Body Type: Lean, Athletic

Style: Mix of sophisticated and modern comfort. Tailored joggers, designer hoodies, and sleek leather jackets for a look that's both stylish and comfortable. His wardrobe is filled with premium basics like fitted T-shirts, cashmere sweaters, and designer sneakers.

Features: Intense gaze, Chiseled Jawline, Athletic build, Confident demeanor, Dark Aura, Magnetic Charm, Style, Always smoking a cigarette

Personality:

Traits: Ambitious, Intelligence, Charisma, Protective, Independant

Likes: Reading, Hanging out with friends, Causing Mischief,

Dislikes: Incompetence, Weakness, Conformity, Modesty

Hobbies: Quidditch, Dueling, Learning thing outside of the school curriculum, drawing

Fears: His father, Failure, Loss of control, Betrayal

Family and Friends:

Father: Tom Riddle Jr.

Known as Voldemort/ Dark Lord

Imprisoned on maximum security in Azkaban

Mother: Unknown

Was a follower of the Dark Lords

Died in childbirth

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Enzo Berkshire

Magic:

Special Abilities: Natural aptitude to the Dark Arts, Parseltongue

Boggart: A dark version of himself

Patronus: Raven

Polyjuice: It might appear as a deep shade of burgundy or midnight blue. It would have a complex taste of rich spices like cinnamon and clove with a bitterness of black coffee

Amortentia: Old books, fresh pine and smoke

Backstory:

Mattheo Riddle was born on a cold winter's night in December 1979, the only child of Tom Riddle Jr., better known as the infamous Dark Lord Voldemort, and an unnamed witch who was a devoted follower of the Dark Arts. Mattheo's mother died in childbirth, leaving him orphaned from the moment he drew his first breath. Raised by other followers of his father, Mattheo grew up surrounded by darkness and secrecy, his childhood steeped in the shadows of his family's dark legacy.

From a young age, Mattheo exhibited a keen intellect and a thirst for knowledge that surpassed his years. Despite his upbringing among dark wizards and witches, he was drawn to the complexities of magic and the mysteries of the wizarding world. He devoured books on ancient spells, studied the intricacies of potion-making, and honed his magical skills with a diligence and determination that belied his tender age.

As Mattheo grew older, he began to chafe against the constraints of his family's legacy, yearning to carve out his own path in the world beyond the shadows of his father's name. When he received his letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the age of eleven, it was both a moment of triumph and trepidation. He knew that Hogwarts would be his chance to escape the dark influences that had surrounded him since birth, but he also feared the expectations that would follow him wherever he went.

At Hogwarts, Mattheo quickly distinguished himself as a student of exceptional talent and ambition. He excelled in his studies, earning top marks in every subject and mastering spells that left even his professors in awe. He became known for his sharp wit, his confident demeanor, and his ability to effortlessly navigate the complexities of wizarding society. Despite his aloof exterior, he formed close bonds with a select group of friends, including Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Enzo Berkshire, forming a tight-knit circle that would become the envy of the school.

Outside of the classroom, Mattheo's reputation as a Quidditch prodigy preceded him. He was a natural on the broomstick, with a skill and agility that made him a formidable opponent on the Quidditch pitch. He led the Slytherin Quidditch team to victory after victory, earning accolades and admiration from his peers and cementing his status as one of Hogwarts' most celebrated athletes.

Despite his success and popularity, Mattheo struggled with the weight of his family's legacy and the expectations that came with bearing the name of Voldemort. He grappled with questions of identity and morality, torn between the darkness of his heritage and the light that flickered within him. He yearned to break free from the shadows that had haunted him since birth, but he knew that the legacy of his father would always loom large over his life.

As he approached his final year at Hogwarts, Mattheo stood at a crossroads, torn between the past that defined him and the future that beckoned with promise. With graduation looming on the horizon, he knew that he would soon have to make a choice that would shape the course of his destiny. But for now, he would continue to walk the fine line between light and darkness, navigating the complexities of his heritage with courage and conviction, determined to forge his own path in a world that sought to define him by the sins of his father.

Academics:

Best Subject: DADA

Favorite Subject: Potions

Favorite Professor: Snape

Worst Subject: Muggle Studies

Least Favorite Subject: History of Magic

Least Favorite Professor: Binns

Student Life:

A mix of academic excellence, social prominence, and a constant struggle to define his own identity in the shadow of his father

Stood out as one of the brightest students, excelling and mastering more than just the curriculum

Popular, despite his challenges.

Is at every Slytherin event

Slytherin beater on the Quidditch team

Walks a fine line of light and dark, wrestling with his demons from his past

Is really just a puppy-eyed boy behind his tough exterior

BEYOND THE MASK// MATTHEO RIDDLE

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin #hogwarts houses #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #mattheo smut #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle

[absolutebl]

Top 10 Best BLs on Gagaoolala

My Beautiful Man AKA Utsukushii Kare

Japan 2021

One of the most Japanese BLs to release in the last decade, as weird and as messed up as any 2000s yaoi: emo af and hella warped, entirely true to itself with no attempt made to modify its POV for modern sensibilities or current BL fandom. It used seriously old school problematic and kinky tropes, like whipping boy, for a truly uncompromising piece that also manages to hit up themes of communication, consent, and self acceptance. It’s a wonderful BL but uniquely dirty and harsh, in the best possible way - Japanese cinema, uncompromising.

I lost my ever loving mind over the ending. This show won the Grand Prix “My Best TV Award” at the 16th Galaxy Awards.

Minato's Laundromat AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry

Japan 2022

A classic age gap romance where a high school student pursues the man of his dreams (who runs a laundromat). This BL is so steeped in yaoi nostalgia, not to mention a classic romance arc, that it will overload some, but those of us who love this genre for its DNA will adore it. It made me very happy because it did everything I want a BL to do - there’s not much more I could ask of a show than this. It’s the closest Japan has come to perfect live action yaoi since Seven Days (and I never make that comparison lightly).

Squee watch-along here.

My Ride

Thai 2022

Thai BL grew up with this pulp (the first ever to make my end of year top 10). It’s a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine (AKA a cinnamon roll couple) plus mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest, and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede, the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple.

Takara & Amagi AKA Takara-kun to Amagi-kun

Japan 2022 I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this BL. Reserved cool kid who must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charming: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning. Was there plot? Not really. Was it emotionally tense and paced well enough for me not to notice? Absolutely. Did I enjoy the hell out of it? Oh yes.

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Taiwan 2023

The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged, but that’s normal for Taiwan. It involves all the tropes under a very casual framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. Absolutely every character is queer. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs, and a KILLER side couple. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan 2023

This style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that part is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan.

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku

Japan 2023

A lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. I was always gonna love this show if they stuck to the manga (which is very dear to my heart). And they did, paralleling it almost exactly. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me as the best of what Japan can do with softness (like Restart After Come Back Home). It’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, but that's OK with me. This is a very safe show for anyone to watch.

Step By Step

Thai 2023

This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This office romance between a stern boss and sweet subordinate felt more authentic to cubical work than previous Thai BLs of this ilk. That authenticity added tension to the narrative and its characters development (how novel). I also really enjoyed the charming side characters and the brothers' relationship to each other (although I could have done without that brother's side BL).

Long Time No See

Korea (Strongberry) 2017

Catfishing assassins on either side of a turf war who fall in love not knowing they are on opposite sides. Or do they? Suspenseful plot, good fight sequences, mature characters, hot sexitimes and even hotter beating the shit out of each other and kissing while covered in blog (this came from KOREA?), plus an HEA. One of the hidden gems of the BL genre.

About Youth

Taiwan 2022

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweet and colored by real world authenticity and grit.

Some of these shows ALSO appeared on Viki or iQIYI, but these BLs will appear only once on these round up posts (here for Gaga), not on the other platforms top 10.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that aired on Gaga (or was taken off the platform) after that date.

This is part of a series more here:

#best bls on gagaoolala #top 10 bls list #gagaoolala #bl recomendation list #recomendations by platform #japanese bl #live action yaoi #taiwanese bl #thai bl #My Beautiful Man #Utsukushii Kare #Minato's Laundromat #Minato Shouji Coin Laundry #my ride the series #Takara & Amagi #Takara-kun to Amagi-kun #kiseki: dear to me #My Personal Weatherman #Taikan Yoho #Our Dining Table #Bokura no Shokutaku #Step By Step the series #Long Time No See #strongberry #korean bl #About Youth the series

[olderthannetfic]

You've encountered site changes over time as a fan elder, what do you make of Tumblr potentially being put out to pasture? Tumblr was my coming of age fan site, and im looking for advice to transition to the next thing with grace and less bitterness than I feel now.

--

Ahaha. God, you should have heard the howling about LJ. "Fandom is over!" "Never again shall we dwell in fandom's True Home!" etc.

Hell, this endless "only LJ was good" crap turns up in replies here on posts where I as OP have very clearly laid out why that's rose colored glasses nonsense and you can so make friends on tumblr, have a conversation on tumblr, etc.

I had my crabby phase about this during the transition from Yahoo Groups to LJ. A lot of the real olds had it over paper zines and the transition to the internet.

I don't know if reading these hilariously samey old posts would help. It does give perspective, I think.

--

As for what you should do, do what I did with Tumblr:

1.

Look around to identify the Next Thing fandom is going to camp out on.

It may take a few guesses and some time to figure this out. You will likely not be an early adopter. Fandom was well established here by the time I joined at the end of 2010. Of course, by now, all those 2009 and before accounts are long gone, but at the time, I was a n00b joining other people's space despite having been in fandom for ages.

2.

Don't expect to enjoy it

I didn't join tumblr because I liked it. In fact, I despised it. I kept right on despising it until a brief stint in Sherlock fandom, a fandom that was so active here at the time that I was able to finally see the good aspects of the site's structure and features.

This is the mistake a lot of people make. They give things a cursory try, don't enjoy them, and go "not for me", forgetting that the last site also had a steep learning curve that was either difficult or that they didn't notice because they were in a different phase of their life.

Bitterness and grief are, frankly, an inherent part of the process. You can try not to be a debbie downer in your public comments, but you can't just not feel those things during the awkward part of the transition. Sometimes, acting positive and cutting off excessively negative thoughts can make you feel less negative overall, but it doesn't happen immediately.

3.

Accept that feeling cranky and old is both a you problem and a state of mind, not a property of the new site

Relatedly, the way we remember fandom platform X feeling usually has more to do with us being in college with fandom friends down the hall or having discovered Our People for the first time or some other time when we had a lot of energy and positive emotions. Often, we were in the throes of a first or new fandom love too, probably for some megafandom that other people also cared about at the same time.

When fandom is leaving some site, there's a grieving process anyway, but we're also often in a worse part of our lives for starting new things. We're busy. We're tired. We're between fandoms. We feel like we already paid our dues to build up our community. Why should we have to start again?

But let me tell you, you always need to start again eventually. I go to a weekly vidders' zoom chat, and a lot of the people in there are old as balls, including Kandy, the person who invented vidding back in the 70s. She's a lot of decades and a few cancers in, and she had to relearn how to vid on a computer after transitioning from slideshows to VCR vidding back in the day. If bad health, platform changes, and dead friends were going to stop her, she'd be long gone.

It's like sharks: you stop swimming, you die.

This isn't just about fandom, obviously. It's about avoiding a midlife crisis and, later, about avoiding feeling emotionally geriatric even when your body is falling apart.

Change gets us all, but being mentally old is a choice. The real reason I gave tumblr such a try was that I had been so resistant to getting on LJ. I was 20. Even a year later, it was fucking embarrassing to have been a crotchety old hag as a college student. I promised myself I'd soldier through the next change instead of dragging my feet about it. And it totally worked in the end! But boy did it not make the transition any less unpleasant emotionally!

4.

Find your joy

As is obvious from the above, the vast majority of the problem is just emotions. Fandom has been on a million broken sites with shitty features. We go where the people are, regardless of whether it has the technological aspects we liked at the last place. The actual shape of that platform is largely irrelevant.

What does matter is whether we as an individual fan are still excited and happy about something. I was between fandoms recently and went looking around for BL series I hadn't watched yet. People kept suggesting things set in the present day with too-cheesy production values and too many banal schoolboys in modern day settings without even anything spicy going on. I realized that the BL/danmei scene wasn't really cutting it for me and I should go for production values and genre and non-canon ships. You probably scrolled annoyedly past the picspams that resulted.

(Of course, hilariously, someone has now shown me the trailer of Red Peafowl, so someone may be making BL that feels like it's for me after all. Look at all that badwrong and very dark color grading.)

When you're in a good place emotionally, it's a hell of a lot easier to weather any change, and when you have a new fandom, it's a lot easier to connect with other fans.

A lot of people wait around for lightning to strike twice. They found their first fandom by accident, and they expect it to happen seamlessly again. For me, it's far more productive to brute force it: collect up a big list of what's popular or what's new and go through it till you find things you might like, then try them all.

And part of this, obviously, is not waiting for other fans to make the party happen. The more you need to join something other people are already doing, the less choice you'll have in fandoms or in platforms. If you aren't picky and just go where the tropey longfic is, that can work, but even then, favorite authors disappear or go to fandoms you hate and former megafandoms dry up. If you're the one bringing the party, it's a lot easier to find a new fandom or platform or community to have fun in.

[theniceandaccurategoodomensblog]

What’s remarkable about Aziraphale’s Jane Austen inspired Ball plan, well apart from the creepy-near-manic way he controls everyone to make everything perfect, is how much this just didn’t make sense to begin with. It doesn’t make sense on many levels, but I mean on the one level Aziraphale should have had right. It isn’t a sensible interpretation of Jane Austen.

I mean yes, there are Balls in Jane Austen’s novels. Of course there are. They are set in regency England. But Jane Austen doesn’t use the Balls as a literary device to get her characters to realise that they misunderstood each other and are actually deeply in love. If anything, it is the exact opposite.

The Balls, and other larger social events, are where Jane Austen’s characters misunderstand and hurt each other. They learn to understand each other and realise that they are in love in smaller social groups and quieter moments when they have the opportunity to truly be themselves.

Yes, Balls in the regency period were all about matchmaking, but were they about love? Not really. Not the way Aziraphale means or wants it to be. Balls were steeped in proprietary, in expectations, in fulfilling your designated social role and making a “good” match, that is, a match that was appropriate to your rank and that fit with the expectations of your family. Does that sound like a place where the kind of love that Aziraphale and Crowley share can flourish?

Returning to Austen, take Lizzie Bennet from Pride and Prejudice as an example. Lizzie dates her love for Darcy from first seeing Pemberley. That is, it comes from getting to know the aspects of Darcy that are never on ready display at a Ball. Likewise, Aziraphale and Crowley’s love is grounded in seeing each other as they truly are, in understanding the parts of themselves that they do not readily display to the world at large.

Crowley’s plan— little us time in the form of an alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz—was the better one for moving to genuine understanding and far more likely to be what Austen herself would have recommended (if she’d given Aziraphale romance advice in between her master spy work).

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #good omens analysis #the Ball

[nansheonearth]

 A Boston shelter tried a new approach to finding women stable housing. Three years later, its success is clear.

Since launching its stabilization program in July 2020, Women’s Lunch Place says that 97 percent of women who found housing are still living in their homes.

By Alysa Guffey Globe Correspondent,Updated August 30, 2023, 5:51 a.m.

Nancy Edwards in her apartment.SUZANNE KREITER/GLOBE STAFF

Two years ago, Nancy Edwards fell into homelessness after being priced out of rent in Southern California. With her two dogs, Roo and Tink, in tow, she decided to drive across the country with all her belongings packed in her small sedan. Her final destination would be Boston, the home of her only child and the last place she says she received adequate mental health care.

She arrived in Boston in September 2021, and later that month met Lianne O’Reilly, a behavioral health and stabilization clinician at Women’s Lunch Place, a daytime shelter and advocacy center serving people who identify as female.

With help from O’Reilly and Women’s Lunch Place, Edwards, 65, was able to receive the mental health care she needed and took the first steps in applying for housing in the city.

“I was able to make heads or tails out of life and rescue myself from being homeless,” Edwards said.

Edwards is one of 173 clients who Women’s Lunch Place has helped to secure housing since the organization launched its housing stabilization program in July 2020. Three years later, the organizaton reports that 97 percent, or 167, of the women are still living in their new homes.

At Pine Street Inn shelter, a mother and daughter persevere and find communityNew housing strategy behind Mass. and Cass cleanup offers ‘hope, dignity’ — and may be a solution to homelessness, officials say‘Permanent supportive housing’ may be controversial to would-be neighbors, but it’s been beneficial to those who live in it

Located on Newbury Street in Back Bay, the stabilization program is designed to provide clients at Women’s Lunch Place with wraparound services before and after they receive keys for an apartment, said Doris Romero, the center’s housing and stabilization manager. Often times, women who walk through the doors have a steep learning curve when living on their own and can be evicted if they do not have continuous support.

“The last thing that I want is after getting someone into housing is for them to lose their housing,” Romero said.

Romero facilitates conversations with landlords, property managers, leasing officers, and even other tenants to ease the burden on clients. Each woman seeking housing is paired with a full-time advocate from the organization, and the team has doubled in size since its inception, she added.

For some, the housing search can take years, with some guests only moving into homes now after originally starting a housing application five years ago, said Romero. Other times, partnerships and applications with the city can speed up the process for those who really need housing. For instance, Edwards submitted an application to the Elders Living At Home Program through Boston Medical Center.

“In the application you have to explain why this person needs housing, and as soon as I met [Edwards,] I knew that housing was really key to her stability and moving forward,” O’Reilly said.

As a result, Edwards moved in to her new home about seven months after connecting with Women’s Lunch Place.

“It’s nice and quiet and I feel secure,” Edwards said on a recent Friday in her one-bedroom apartment in the South End.

Nancy Edwards in her apartment.SUZANNE KREITER/GLOBE STAFF

While stabilization programs are not necessarily a new invention, Women’s Lunch Place’s method of keeping tabs on and tracking women it helps find housing is encouraging, because it shows “obvious and dramatic evidence that it works,” said Susan Sered, professor of sociology at Suffolk University.

For the past 15 years, Sered has been following a group of about 50 women in Boston who fall in and out of homelessness. In her research, she has seen women lose housing because of substandard living conditions or abusive men in their life who visit homes and cause trouble — issues that can often be prevented with robust stabilization services.

“A lot of these problems are dealt with before they get out of control,” she said of the system in place at Women’s Lunch Place. “They can provide this kind of really intensive support that can help people get through that difficult period or a difficult incident and hold on to their housing.”

Romero said she poses as many questions as possible to find a strong fit for each individual client.

“Do they want to stay in Boston? Do they want roommates or their own space?”

However, even though the program is run through the shelter, women who seek the stabilization services have their own agency throughout the process, choosing where, when, and what they apply to.

“We can provide them options of different opportunities, but they get to choose where they want to apply to,” Romero said.

Most of the clients would prefer to stay in Boston, Romero said, but that doesn’t always work out. Sometimes, after looking at options in Boston, she encourages clients to look elsewhere, such as the North or South Shore, to set realistic expectations. Romero added that the center has had luck stabilizing people in Medford and Watertown homes.

The stabilization program is unique since it doesn’t end once women get the keys to their new place.

“People really assume like everything’s like sunshine and flowers once you get housed,” O’Reilly said. “And it can be, but for a lot of people it can be traumatic in many ways.”

The length of stabilization looks different for each client, Romero said. Advocates visit the homes of their clients as much as they need to help with everything from setting up cable to finding a church community nearby.

Women’s Lunch Place also assists clients facing possible eviction — a vital component of stabilization services, staff members say.

Estella Green, 55, credits the program for her finding stable housing and avoiding eviction after she had been sleeping on the streets or couch surfing for almost three years.

“I was in a place where I was about to go downhill, but I came here and I asked for help and they helped me,” Green said.

With help from her advocate, Christina Labossiere, Green has lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Brighton for more than two years. Since March, the organization has assisted Green in applying to the city’s Residential Assistance for Families in Transition program, which helps keep households in stable housing situations when facing eviction, loss of utilities, and other housing emergencies.

Green said she loves the apartment, especially the bed to sleep in, but still comes to Women’s Lunch Place almost daily because that — not Brighton — is her community.

“You can relax, be comfortable, and you can always find someone to talk to,” Green said.

Alysa Guffey can be reached at [email protected]. Follow her @AlysaGuffeyNews.

Edit:

Here's a link to donate to Women's Lunch Place

Follow them on ig

If you reblogged the previous version, reblog with the donate link.

#radfem #alysa guffey #women's lunch place #boston #massachusetts #new england #housing #sisterhood #solidarity #resources #welfare #ideas #to do #o #boston globe

[winxanity-ii]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

╚»★«╝ 𝐇𝐱𝐇 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐚 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst/fuff-ish

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, fate hears your prayers of hurt and pain and you're saved in more ways than one.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 4.6k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Lololo I lowkey wandere how long it was gonn a be before i pop out with a HxH one-shot.

★·.·´🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ × 🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You're a shadow among shadows in the 247th Hunter Exam, another face in the crowd, but with a secret that sets you apart.

Behind the dark glasses you wear lies a secret—your eyes, usually a simple shade of brown, transform into a deep, vivid crimson when your emotions surge. This striking change is a remnant of your Kurta heritage, a beautiful yet haunting reminder of a past steeped in tragedy. You're a lone survivor, the massacre by the Phantom Troupe a scar that never fades.

You've learned to hide your eyes not only to blend in but to shield yourself from unwanted attention. The fluctuation in color from brown to red is a giveaway of your emotional state, a vulnerability you can't afford in situations that demand composure. These glasses are your armor, concealing the turmoil within and helping you maintain an air of normalcy amidst the chaos of the exam.

You watch them from a distance. There's the boy with the innocent face and spiky black hair—he exudes an unmistakable aura of purity. Beside him, a silver-haired kid, his demeanor screams 'trouble', but there's a hint of loyalty in his eyes. A tall guy in a suit, barking louder than his bite, is impossible to miss.

And then, there's him—one who unknowingly mirrors a part of your hidden past.

You don't know his name yet, but he's different. He has hair like sunlit gold and eyes of a striking gray, eyes that don't miss much. He moves with a certain calculated precision, every step, every gesture steeped in purpose.

You feel an inexcusable urge to go over and make friends with the group, but you don't. Sadly, you've learned the hard way—trust is a luxury, and solitude is your best friend. So, you watch and listen from a distance, absorbing fragments of their conversations as much as you could—their dreams, their fears, their determination to win. Despite the bustling environment of the exam, you're like a ghost—always there, unseen, unheard, yet moving through the exam with a silent vow to keep your identity and your pain securely locked away.

☆

☆

In the suffocating confines of Trick Tower, you're caught in a psychological battle, the air thick with tension. Your adversary is no ordinary opponent; he's a prisoner, his smile not just cruel but dripping with wicked intent. The game's rules are simple, yet twisted in their own way: he has five minutes to provoke you into attacking him. The rule is clear—the quicker you lose your cool, the more hours you'll owe. If you somehow manage to withstand the full five minutes without lashing out, you'll escape any penalty. But this guy knows exactly how to push your buttons.

At the start, his insults are mere jabs, testing your defenses...

"Look at you, trying to act all tough." he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why so quiet? Afraid you'll break a nail, sweetheart?

...however, as the clock ticks, his words turn increasingly vile and misogynistic....

"Aren't you going to entertain me? Don't be shy. Come over here so I can show you what a real man is."

You feel a twitch in your jaw, your calm facade beginning to crack. You scoff as you lift your head in defiance, your glasses slip, revealing a flash of crimson. It's only a moment, but he catches it.

He falls silent, and for a moment, you think he's done. But then, slowly, almost thoughtfully, he speaks again. "Never thought I'd see the famed Kurta fire in person," he says, a twisted awe in his voice. "Bet the Phantom Troupe had a field day with your kind getting those." His words crawl under your skin, each syllable laced with malice.

The timer hits around 5 minutes and 30 seconds when he crosses the final line. "Man, I should've bought a pair off the Phantom Troupe before landing in here. Would've made a nice trinket to gaze at and pass time," he smirks.

That's the last straw.

Your restraint shatters. You're on him before you know it, driven by a surge of raw, unbridled fury. Your fists are relentless, each strike a release of years of pent-up anger and grief. The world turns a shade of red, both from your eyes and your rage.

As the guards pull you off, his laughter turns into a painful gasp, a sound that echoes in your mind long after. "You lose," he chokes out, his twisted grin the last thing you see before he passes out.

Your short victory is hollow as you're given a swift verdict by the Tower Guard for losing he game—a penalty of ten lost hours, ten hours of isolation. Forced into isolation, you find yourself in a room shared with the very individuals you've been silently observing.

It's a bizarre twist of fate.

You learn their names in snippets of conversation. Gon, with his boundless energy. Killua, always cool and collected. Leorio, loud and passionate. And Kurapika, his voice a soft, determined thread in the tapestry of their chatter.

Oh, and this weird fat guy named Tonpa, as well.

The room feels smaller with their presence. You curl up on the other side of the room, a silent, watchful presence. Your body aches from the fight, your heart heavy with the weight of your past. As sleep tugs at your consciousness, you drift off, missing Kurapika's confession about his own quest for revenge, his own clan's tragedy.

Coming to, you're gently roused by Gon's voice, tinged with his usual cheerfulness. "Hey, your time's almost up!" he informs you. Gratefully, you murmur a soft "thanks" and sit up, stretching out the stiffness in your muscles.

Your gaze drifts across the room, taking in the scene. Killua is by himself, idly fiddling with Gon's fishing line, lost in thought. Leorio and Tonpa are sprawled on a sofa, an amusing picture with their feet comically entangled in each other's faces. Kurapika sits in quiet repose, absorbed in a book.

As your eyes linger on Kurapika, he seems to sense it, lifting his gaze from the pages to meet yours. Despite your shades, his piercing look makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. Quickly, you shift your gaze away.

Turning to your side, you notice Gon still sitting beside you, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Sorry," he begins hesitantly, "I was just wondering... why do you always wear those shades?" His finger points innocently at your glasses.

You reflexively reach up to your shades, ensuring they're in place, covering your revealing eyes. With a reassuring smile, you answer, "I have sensitive eyes. The shades help protect them from bright lights."

Gon's response is full of childlike wonder. "Like vampires?" he asks, his eyes wide.

Your laughter is soft, a rare sound amidst the tension of the Hunter Exam. "Yeah, kind of like vampires," you agree, amused by his analogy.

As you're chuckling, the Tower God's announcement interrupts, declaring the end of your penalty. Standing up, you gather your things, including a hoodie draped over a chair. You nod to Gon in appreciation. "Thank you... Gon, right?"

"Yup! My name's Gon! What's yours?" he asks with an infectious enthusiasm.

"Y/N," you reply with a smile. "Thanks again, Gon. Hope to see you in the next phase."

Gon's giggle rings out as you pat his head gently. "You too, Y/N!" he replies, still chuckling.

As you step out of the room, leaving behind the peculiar mix of companions, a sense of readiness fills you. The next phase of the Hunter Exam awaits, and with it, new challenges and opportunities. But for now, the brief interaction with Gon leaves a small, warm glow in your heart amidst the trials ahead.

☆

☆

Sweat trickled down the side of your face as you raced through the dense underbrush of the forest.

C'mon Y/N! You got this! Phase 4! You've come so far! You kept repeating the mantra in your head, pushing yourself harder.

Phase 4 of the Hunter Exam, taking place on Zevil Island, was unlike any challenge you had faced before. Each participant was assigned a target, their badge the key to progressing further. Your assigned target: number 405.

Gon.

As soon as you saw the number, recognition flooded you. The thought of hunting down the boy and taking his badge didn't sit right with you. Besides, you knew better than to underestimate the solidarity of his group. So, you chose the alternative route—gathering three badges to compensate for not pursuing Gon's.

So far, you had managed to collect two other badges. But your success had drawn unwanted attention. A mercenary, furious that you had inadvertently taken his target, was now hot on your heels, seeking both vengeance and the badges you carried.

You pushed through the forest, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sounds of the island were a distant blur, the rustle of leaves and distant animal calls fading behind the adrenaline-fueled pounding of your heart. You had to lose him, had to be smart. This wasn't just about survival in the exam anymore—it was about surviving period.

You glanced back, catching a fleeting glimpse of your pursuer weaving through the trees. His determination matched your own, but for vastly different reasons. With a deep breath, you surged forward, your mind racing as fast as your feet. You needed a plan, and you needed it fast. The stakes were high, and failure wasn't an option.

Your legs burned with exertion, each step more labored than the last. Realizing that running wasn't a sustainable option, you made a split-second decision. It was time to face your pursuer head-on. The alternative—constantly looking over your shoulder for the next three days—was a prospect filled with dread and uncertainty.

You veered off the path, heading towards an open field nearby. There, you turned to face the direction you had come from, your breathing heavy, but determined. This was it—a confrontation was inevitable.

Moments later, the mercenary emerged from the break in the trees, his approach confident, almost cocky. He sauntered into the clearing, a sly grin plastered on his face, clearly thinking he had the upper hand.

As he stepped into the open, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the field, creating an almost surreal backdrop for the impending battle. The air was still, the usual sounds of the forest seemingly holding their breath in anticipation.

You stood your ground, eyes fixed on the mercenary. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon, gripping it tightly. The tension was palpable, a tangible force in the air between you two.

"You think you can take me?" the mercenary taunted, his voice a low hum in the heavy air. "A nobody thinks they can best me for a badge?"

"I don't think," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of nerves inside you. "I know."

The battle commenced without another word. The forest became an arena, the trees pillars in the hall of combat. As you weave through the forest, the battle intensifies. The mercenary's knives are more than mere steel; they're extensions of his will, each strike aimed with deadly intent. You can almost feel the air parting as they whistle past, a mere hair's breadth from your skin.

"Can't touch me," you taunt under your breath, your voice a mix of bravado and focus. Your feet barely touch the ground as you dodge, pivot, and retaliate with a series of calculated blows and kicks.

The forest, with its towering trees and dappled sunlight, transforms into a blur around you. You're in the eye of the storm, where every breath is measured, every movement a dance with destiny. The mercenary lunges, and you hear the sharp intake of breath, the rustle of leaves underfoot—a symphony of survival.

Suddenly, pain sears through your shoulder, a sharp, hot line where his knife finds its mark. "Gotcha," he hisses, a shadowy figure with a smirk that chills your blood.

You grit your teeth, feeling the warm trickle of blood, a stark reminder of your mortality. You're a whirlwind of motion, each step an intricate part of this deadly dance, but the mercenary is a step ahead, his knives a blur of silver and shadow. You hear the slicing of air, feel the sting as one blade after another grazes your skin, leaving behind a trail of shallow cuts; blood beading on your arm creating a vivid contrast against your skin.

"I'm impressed," he taunts, his voice a low rumble in the chaos. "But not enough."

You dodge another swipe, the air humming with the missed connection. It's a relentless assault, and you're pushed to your limits, each movement driven by sheer willpower. The forest around you is both arena and witness, the rustling leaves a hushed audience to your struggle.

Then, a sharp pain seizes your side—a knife, lodged deep. You gasp, the shock almost buckling your knees. Your vision begins to blur, edges fringing with black. You hear your breathing, ragged and wet, each inhale tainted with the metallic tang of blood. It's like drowning on dry land, the taste of iron filling your mouth, a stark reminder of the blood you're losing. Your head spins, the forest around you swaying in a nauseating dance.

The mercenary looms closer, a shadow preying on your weakened state. "Looks like I got you, again~" he smirks, already reaching for another blade to finish the job.

The pain is intense, a burning fire in your side...but in this moment of despair, something within you stirs. A distant echo, the cries and shouts of your clan, resonating through the haze of pain. Their voices, filled with courage and defiance in their final stand against the Phantom Troupe, ignite a fire in your soul. It's a call to arms, a call to honor their memory.

You shake your head, clearing the fog of pain and despair. Your heart pounds in your chest, a drumbeat of survival. "For my clan," you whisper, the words a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of defeat.

Time seems to slow, each second stretching out as you summon the last reserves of your strength. With a deep, shuddering breath, you focus. The pain is still there, a constant companion, but now it fuels your resolve. You grip the hilt of the knife in your side, a grim determination setting in your features. With a swift, decisive motion, you pull it out, ignoring the fresh wave of pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

The mercenary pauses as his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise at your unwavering spirit. You can see the calculation in his gaze, the reassessment of his prey. But you don't afford him the luxury of time. With the last of your strength, you launch forward, using his momentary hesitation. Your movements are a blend of instinct and desperation, a final stand against the inevitable as you channel your pain into action

There's a clash of steel, a grunt of effort. The mercenary staggers back, his knife clattering to the ground. You stand there, breathing heavily, the pain in your side a constant throb, but you're still standing.

"You're... not bad," he concedes, a grudging respect in his voice as he eyes you warily, reassessing you at a closer distance as he tries to puts a few feet between the two of you.

You don't have time for words. You're wounded, every breath a battle, but this fight is yours. With a last effort, before he can gather his bearing and attack you once more, you advance, your own blade steady in your grip. The forest holds its breath, the final act about to unfold.

In a blur, you twist, your foot sweeping out in a calculated arc, knocking his legs from under him. The world tilts as you both crash to the forest floor. With a desperate, precise thrust, you drive your blade into the side of his neck.

The mercenary lets out a choked laugh, a grotesque symphony of pain and disbelief, as blood blooms from the wound and stains his lips. "Good luck, doll. You're gonna need it," he gasps, his voice a gurgling whisper.

Stiffly, you snatch his badge off of his shirt before staggering back, your legs shaky and unreliable. The forest spins around you, trees blurring into indistinct shapes as you bump into them, each impact a jolt of pain. Your vision dims, the edges closing in, a tunnel of darkness encroaching as blood loss takes its toll.

You push forward, each step a battle against the relentless pull of your injuries. The forest, once a vibrant tapestry of green and gold, now seems muted, the colors fading as your strength wanes. Your breathing is ragged, a harsh symphony punctuated by the throb of your wounded side. You can taste blood in your mouth, the iron tang a stark reminder of the price you've paid.

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, as if you're walking through a dream. You lean against a tree, its bark rough under your palm, seeking a moment's respite. The texture under your palm is a reminder of that you're still here, despite the overwhelming pain that roars in your ear. You close your tightly eyes, willing yourself to stay conscious, to keep moving.

In the haze of exhaustion, your mind drifts, not to the pain or the blood you've shed, but to the deeper meaning of your struggle. You realize—even in this weakened state—that your victory extends beyond the physical realm. You've honored your heritage, upheld the values and legacy of your clan. Their voices, which once echoed faintly in the recesses of your memory, now resound within you, clear and strong, filling you with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

And in this quiet moment, if you focus just enough, you can almost sense the presence of your parents. It's as if their voices whisper in the wind—congratulating you—their words a soothing balm to your battered spirit. You imagine the warmth of their hands enveloping you in an embrace of love and approval. Their presence, though intangible, is a vivid sensation that momentarily lessens the physical pain, filling you with a sense of peace and the strength to persevere.

You reach into your pockets to fetch the source of your physical pain—those stupid badges. And since your recent victory with the mercenary, you know had all the points needed to succeed to the next phase.

"...you're gonna need it..." The mercenary's last words rings in your ears, haunting you; a prophecy or a curse, you can't tell.

You clutched the badges like a lifeline as your vision blurred, the edges darkening, and in that encroaching shadow, you saw him—Kurapika.

At first, you thought he was a figment of your imagination, but his gasp cut through the silence of the forest, a soft but sharp intake of breath that seemed to pierce the veil of your pain.

"Your eyes..." Kurapika's voice was a thread of sound, woven with shock and a dawning realization as he approached cautiously, his footsteps barely a whisper on the forest floor. "...Kurta?" Kurapika murmured, the word laced with uncertainty and disbelief.

As your eyes met his, a visible change overtook him. His gaze intensified, the hue of his eyes deepening into a vivid red, mirroring the tumult of emotions within as he recognized the truth before him.

Your state was dire, a vivid canvas of your recent battle. Blood was smeared across the side of your face, stark against your skin, and your eyes were unfocused, hazy with pain and the effort to remain conscious. Kurapika's steps faltered, a mix of shock and concern etching his features as he kneeled beside you.

You couldn't help but look into his eyes—praying that your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. And there you saw it, a reflection of your own—a crimson shade that told a story of loss and of a lineage almost erased from the world. The sight of his crimson eyes ignited a glimmer of hope within you. You weren't alone; another Kurta still walked this earth.

His hands hovered over your broken form, trembling slightly, betraying his inner turmoil. He was mumbling, words lost in a stream of consciousness, as if he were trying to piece together the reality before him.

You attempted to speak—to express your happiness—but the effort was too much. Blood trickled from the corner of your lips, and a pained sigh escaped you as you tried to shift away from your injured side. Kurapika's reaction was immediate, a soft, soothing coo escaping him. "It's okay, don't push yourself; you don't have to saying anything. I'm here," he reassured, his voice a calming presence in the chaos of your agony.

But the darkness was calling, an embrace that promised respite from the pain. You leaned into it, even as Kurapika's voice became the anchor trying to hold you in the light. "No more worries," he whispered, his hands warm against the cool touch of your skin. "You'll be safe with me."

With the last of you strength, you whispered a faint, "...okay..." before falling unconscious.

As the shadows embraced you, Kurapika's world became a whirlwind of emotion, and you slipped into unconsciousness, cradled in his arms. His hands, now protectors, held you close, your head against his chest. His fingers grazed your skin, feeling the rise and fall of your labored breaths, his touch a silent vow against the dark.

"No, not again," he murmured to himself, a haunted lullaby for two souls intertwined by fate and tragedy. His arms tightened around you, as if his embrace alone could shield you from the world's cruelty. "I can't... I won't let it happen again."

The memory of his clan—of crimson eyes dimmed forever—flashed in his mind, an echo of the past threatening to repeat itself. He rocked gently, a motion born from an instinct to comfort, to soothe, even as his own heart screamed in anguish.

In the quiet forest, he leaned back and beheld your face—brown skin illuminated by the moon's touch, your hair a soft crown of twisted locks framing your peaceful expression. His fingertips traced the contours of your face with reverence, a silent apology to every moment he had unknowingly left you alone in a world that had taken so much from both of you.

"You're here," he whispered, more to himself than to you, a prayer in the solitude. "You're alive, and as long as I breathe, I will fight for you... with you. I will not let this light go out."

Kurapika's breath was a warm whisper against your skin as he nosed the side of your face. His hands, trembling with an intensity born of fear and love, cupped your cheek gently, as his eyes fluttered closed, savoring a fleeting moment of bliss amid the chaos.

A rustle in the underbrush broke the stillness, and Leorio's voice cut through the quiet. "Kurapika? What happened? Are you—"

His words hung unfinished as he stumbled into the clearing, his eyes landing on the two of you. Kurapika's head snapped up, his eyes glowing fiercely, a reflection of the turmoil within.

"Kurapika, your eyes..." Leorio's voice was thick with concern and confusion.

"They are the eyes of my clan," Kurapika stated, the flames in his eyes not dimming but burning brighter with resolve. "And she shares them. She shares my pain, my burden. She is Kurta, and I will not fail her as I failed... the others."

Leorio stepped forward, his intentions clear and his resolve unshakable. "We'll help her, Kurapika. We're going to get through this. Together," he stated firmly, ready to extend his hand and offer his strength.

But Kurapika's reaction was immediate and sharp, a sudden tension seizing his body. "No," he said quickly, almost vehemently, his voice low and possessive. "She's mine to protect. She's a Kurta—my responsibility." His words cut through the air, a clear boundary drawn in the wake of Leorio's offer.

Leorio halted, confusion etching his features as he assessed his friend's guarded posture and the fierce, protective glare that seemed out of place on Kurapika's usually composed face.

"Kurapika, we're all friends here," Leorio tried to reason, his concern growing with each passing second. "We want to help—"

"No, Leorio!" Kurapika's interruption was firm, brooking no argument. "She's not just anyone. Our pain is shared, our past... our vengeance." His arms instinctively tightened around you, his movements a physical manifestation of his unspoken vow to protect you.

Leorio's brow furrowed, the weight of Kurapika's isolation dawning on him. Yet, he understood the unspoken language of trauma that seemed to emanate from Kurapika's every pore.

There was a silent promise exchanged in the look that passed between them, a pact made under the witness of stars and stillness. With a slow nod, he stepped back, giving space and respect to the silent plea for solitude and stewardship that Kurapika was asserting.

"We'll be here... when you're ready," Leorio conceded, offering support in his retreat, an acknowledgment of Kurapika's unyielding will to be the shield, the keeper of the last of his clan.

In the quiet that followed, Kurapika's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his demeanor shifting from defensive to tender. "I will keep you safe," he whispered, as if the words were a talisman against the world. "You are mine to defend, and I will lay down my life before I see this light extinguished."

He gently cupped the back of your head, drawing you in closer, until your head nestled securely beneath his chin. The side of his chin acted as a shield, a subtle yet powerful barrier, symbolizing his determination to guard you against any harm.

He would keep you safe, no matter what storms may come, for in you, he had found a piece of hope—a precious echo of a home lost to whispers and to time.

🙈🙈hehehe just me being delusional as usual, carry on

#hunterxhunter x reader #hunter x hunter #leorio #hxh x reader #hxh 2011 #hxh killua #kurapika kurta #kurapika #kurapika hxh #kurapika hunter x hunter #kurapika headcanons #kurapika x reader #kurta reader x kurapika #hxh #hxh gon #hxh kurapika #hxh leorio #yandere kurapika #yandereish #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-kurapika kurta

[barbwritesstuff]

A copy/paste of a post I made on the CS forum in regards to Thicker Than:

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

I’m just popping back to post a quick update about my plan/process going forward.

My current plan is to continue drafting this story as it is. Once I have first draft, then I’ll go back and fix some of the issues that have been brought up here.

Top of the list:

*Fix confusing navigation in chapters 3-4.

*Add more opportunities to interact with allies in non romantic contexts. (Perhaps in groups so people don’t worry about losing romance routes but can still spend time and get to know various characters).

*Add more choice and variation to the trial scene (plus a potential aquital for vampires loyal to the Night Court).

I hope that’s okay. I think it’ll be easier to edit once I have the whole thing more or less together. That way I’m not going back and forth quite as much and it’ll be easier to know exactly where any jumps/skips need to go.

The latter half of Chapter Ten is very romance focused. Chapter Eleven is going to be very big and busy (depending on the playthrough) and I may end up splitting it into two, but I’m not sure yet. The game is already starting to fork towards the various endings (of which there will be five with variations in each). Some will be more involved than others, but I want to try and make them all rewarding in their own way.

I know it feels like choices that were made in part two are a little redundant, but I’m hoping later chapters might change some minds.

The tribute choice is still one of the biggest in the game (and whether or not it was actually paid) and the outcomes and consequences of that will start to come out more soon.

Not all consequences will be good. Again, I hope that’s okay.

I’m also hoping it’s not too frustrating waiting a little longer for the above mentioned fixes.

Thank you everyone for your honest feedback. This game is much more complicated than my last and it’s been a steep learning curve all the way (I’m never doing timeskips ever again 😅). But, with your help, I’m hoping the final product will be a really fun. 💙

[justabigassnerd]

Safe and Sound

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

Word count - 2,151

Warnings - mentions of death, angst, fluff

Summary - On the uranium mission, two of the people you care most about get shot down

A/N - I had to I'm sorry. I'm on a Rooster kick and I had to write for him. For the sake of this fic, Hangman has a WSO because I said so and reader's callsign is Pegasus. This is probably actual horse shite bc I've never written Top Gun before but you won't learn anything by not doing it so I gave it a go. Anyways, as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!

This mission was one no one at Top Gun could stop talking about. Your father, Pete Mitchell, better known as Maverick, had to whittle down a group of twenty of the top graduates from Top Gun down to six. You made him promise to be fair and not just pick you because you were his daughter because the moment you knew you were the WSO for Jake Seresin, you knew you stood no chance. Hangman was a good pilot. A great pilot even. He just had an ego to match your father’s and would leave his wingmen out to dry at any given opportunity.

Your boyfriend, Bradley Bradshaw, had tried to convince you that there was no way your dad wouldn’t pick you. He would constantly praise how you were one of the only teams to make it through the trial run and land the closest hit to the target. Every time he reminded you of that, you just reminded him that the second after that steep climb, Hangman flew off, which would mean leaving your wingman to get blown to smithereens by SAMs in the actual mission. Rooster thought it was unfair, that the daughter of Maverick was stuck as a WSO, but you kept reassuring him that it was your choice. You enjoyed flying but you got nervous sometimes if you were the one piloting the aircraft, so you left it to those who were more comfortable.

When it came time for the mission to be carried out, all candidates were waiting anxiously on the aircraft carrier to find out who Maverick had chosen to fly alongside him in the mission. When Cyclone asked for who would be joining him on the mission he surveyed the pilots, knowing each one of them have trained so hard for this moment.

“Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.” He announces the Foxtrot teams first, you watch as the four relax and share a smile with their friend. You heard Hangman release a small huff of annoyance, but you ignored him, knowing you’ll get your chance in due time.

“And your wingman.” Cyclone prompts. You cast a glance across the room at Rooster and could see how nervous he was. You knew him and your dad had a rocky history since your dad pulled Bradley’s papers at the naval academy, so you hoped your dad wasn’t going to pick someone else.

“Rooster.” Maverick says, making Bradley straighten up and nod slightly. Maverick then announces that you and Hangman are the standbys in case something goes wrong on the mission. The teams head up to the carrier’s runway and you approach your dad.

“You better not do anything stupid out there.” You say in a weak attempt to be funny, but you couldn’t deny the nerves that were eating away at your stomach because your dad and your boyfriend were risking their lives.

“We’ll be there and back in record time. I’ll bring that boyfriend of yours back safe and sound too.” Maverick replies with a reassuring smile as he brings you into a tight hug before turning to get into his jet. You then turned around to find Bradley and saw Hangman walking away from him, throwing you a smile as he passed.

“You okay?” Bradley asks gently as he rests his hands on your hips, his eyes watching you carefully.

“You better come back alive, Bradshaw.” You say, watching as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Wow, demoted to last name basis?” He manages to joke, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m serious Bradley. You better come home.” You repeat, making Bradley let go of your hips and cup your face gently in his hands.

“I’m going to do my damn hardest to get home to you.“ He says, rubbing his thumbs across the apple of your cheeks, bringing a smile to your face as you lean into his touch.

“I love you.” You say, both you and Bradley leaning in for a kiss.

“I love you too.” He whispers. Just before you could reply, you hear Fanboy yelling for Rooster to get in his jet and you take a step back.

“I better get going. I’ll be back before you know it.” Bradley says, pressing one last quick kiss to your lips before hurrying over to his jet and climbing into the cockpit, blowing you a kiss before you turn to get into the jet with Hangman. You watch as the four jets take off and fly in the direction of the uranium plant.

“And now we wait.” Hangman says, leaning back in his seat and throwing a glance over his shoulder at you.

“Hopefully we don’t have to do anything.” You reply, watching as the F-18’s quickly become specks in the distance before the missile strike is sent from the carrier to destroy the enemy aircraft’s runway. You could hear what was happening over the radio and you listened intently to what was going on.

“Come on babe.” You whisper to yourself when you hear that Rooster needs to speed up as him and his wingmen are behind schedule. You knew he had a cautious approach to flying and you pegged it to be because he lost his father when he was young and didn’t want to meet the same fate as Goose. Your dad had always told you ‘don’t think, just do’; at that moment, you knew Rooster needed to take your dad’s advice, whether he liked it or not. You and Hangman cheer happily when you hear two confirmed hits, and that the uranium plant is destroyed.

“Now they just have to make it back.” Hangman says with a smile, turning back to you. Both of you are filled with unwavering optimism that this mission is going to be a success. You both knew that there were SAMs so the teams had to fight to make it back, but you had no doubt that they’d be able to make it home.

“Dagger One has been hit. I repeat: Dagger One has been hit.” That one sentence made your heart plummet into your stomach. You could hear Rooster trying to reach Maverick through the radio but was met with no response. You couldn’t believe it. Your dad, one of the Navy’s best pilots was shot down in the blink of an eye.

“Dagger Spare request permission to launch and fly air cover.” You heard Hangman speaking to the radio tower, wanting to get into the air to help with the bandits being so close to the remainder of the team.

“Negative Spare.” The response angers you. The team needed help, and you couldn’t believe they were making you just stay put. You blink away the tears angrily and listen to what was going on. You could hear everyone being told to come to the carrier while Rooster was fighting the idea, wanting to look for your dad despite no one seeing a parachute. The next thing you knew you heard frantic calls and announcements that Dagger Two had also been hit and people trying to get a response. Your heart was now shattered. First your dad and then Bradley. Two of the people you love most in this world are gone within minutes.

“Pegasus, you okay?” You hear Hangman ask, an unusual softness to his voice. You couldn’t find your voice and remained staring blankly at the back of Hangman’s seat.

“y/n?” Hangman tries again, this time using your name instead of your callsign. You managed to force yourself to react and looked up to where Hangman was looking at you with concern over the top of his seat.

“They’re gone.” You whisper, tears seeping down your cheeks as the other jets land on the carrier, returning to their spots with the pilots climbing out.

“Are you going to be okay if they need us? I can ask someone else to jump in.” Hangman questions, making you shake your head.

“No, I’ll be okay. I just need a second.” You reply quickly, wiping your eyes and steeling your gaze, knowing you need to be strong right now just in case you’re needed. You fought the pit growing in your stomach and tried to stay focused, trying not to think about your dad and your boyfriend lying dead on enemy territory somewhere. You knew that you and Hangman had to be standing by just in case the bandits followed the others back to the carrier.

“Dagger Spare stand by. We have spotted Rooster on our radar in an F-14 and suspect Maverick is with him too.” You hear someone over the radio say and both you and Hangman leap into action, prepping the jet for take-off. Your heart was pounding, threatening to break your ribs, and burst out of your chest from how hard it was beating. They were alive, and you needed to help them get home.

“Dagger Spare standing by. Ready to take off when needed.” You say, flipping the switches to activate your radar while Hangman moves the jet into position to take off. When you’re cleared for take-off, it only takes a matter of seconds for the jet to get airborne.

“Pegasus, keep an eye out for any bandits, okay?” Hangman says and you nod in acknowledgment, glancing at your radar and at your surroundings. You fly in the direction of where the radio tower told you Rooster was coming from. As you travel you spot an F-14 being trailed by another more advanced jet.

“Hangman, that has to be them!” You say, pointing the jets out to him.

“Target the jet.” Hangman orders which you listen to, targeting the enemy jet easily.

“You’re clear to fire.” You say once you’re locked on target and Hangman doesn’t waste a second firing the missile and blowing up the bandit as you connect your radio to the F-14s.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your saviour speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions. And prepare for landing.” You roll your eyes and laugh at Hangman’s words but couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief as you look over to the other jet and see your dad and boyfriend.

“Hey, Hangman, you look good.” Rooster says.

“I am good Rooster. I’m very good.” Hangman replies with a cocky smile.

“Way to ignore your girlfriend Bradshaw.” You say with a laugh.

“You look amazing, baby. You always do.” Rooster says with a smile.

“Keep your flirting off the channel. We can talk back on the carrier.” Your dad’s teasing tone comes over the radio, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks as you fly back to the carrier. You and Hangman land first just before the crew prepare for your dad to land the F-14 with no front landing gear. You wait and watch anxiously as they land and the second you see them emerge from the cockpit, you’re leaping out of your jet and bolting towards them. You grab your dad in a hug first, hugging him so tight he was convinced you were going to snap him in half.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.” He whispers reassuringly, hugging you equally as tight to comfort you. You remain in your dad’s hold for a couple of minutes before Maverick looks up to see Rooster watching with a small smile on his face.

“I believe someone is waiting to say hi to you.” Maverick says with a smile before releasing you from his hug and turning you around, so you were face to face with your boyfriend. You wasted no time in bringing him in for a kiss, it was messy but helped reassure you that he was here in front of you and that he made it home to you.

“You are an idiot, Bradley Bradshaw. You scared me to death. I thought I lost both you and dad.” You say the moment you part for air. You were beyond grateful he made it back with your dad, but you couldn’t help but be a little angry that he went against orders to do it.

“I’m sorry babe. I just had a gut feeling that Mav was still alive and I couldn’t just leave him to die.” Bradley defends himself apologetically, bringing you into his arms and resting his chin atop your head as he runs a gentle hand up and down your back.

“I’m just so glad you both made it home.” You whisper against his shoulder, hugging him slightly tighter as you speak.

“Safe and sound. Just like we promised.” He replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you nod.

“Hey, lovebirds, break it up! Celebratory drinks, let’s go!” You hear Payback yell, making the two of you pull apart but not before pressing another kiss to each other’s lips.

“Shall we?” Bradley asks, offering you his arm.

“We shall.”

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #maverick x daughter!reader #pete mitchell x daughter reader