#and that's coming with a lot of knowledge

[ohjaywithpulp]

While I think this post is funny, isn't Laios...always thinking? A lot of what we see from him is just analysing the situation(specifically the creature) in front of him and when he makes brash actions, it's never unfounded and comes from his knowledge of beasts.

that's new

[munsonify]

about time

pairing. clark kent x fem!reader

summary. three times clark wanted to say ‘i love you’, and the one time he did

content warnings. sm fluff, established relationships, kind of secret relationship, journalist!r, teasing, r wearing clark’s shirt, clark calling r beautiful, kissing. not proofread

word count. 2719

a/n. hello first time writing for a dc character in years, i’ve since deleted that account, thank the lord. anyways this might be a crazy mischaracterization of him but idk

———

your little secret

it was rather early on in your relationship when clark realized he loved you. he stumbled about that fact, actually, the day he so timidly told you who he was behind those frames of his. he thought a lot about how he should tell you, or even if he should. there were two things he was sure of upon pondering.

one: clark cares about you. a lot. he plans to stick around for as long as you’ll let him, as long as you’ll willfully have him.

two: outside of his ma and pa - and maybe kara, though he wouldn’t ever admit it to her face -, clark trusts you most. your unwavering loyalty was never something he doubted, even for a second.

when this little secret of clark began eating him alive, gnawing at his stomach with a guilt he knew he shouldn’t have, clark knew what he had to do. if this is what does you in, what has you running towards the hills far away from him, he’ll just have to be okay with that. you may not tattle to anyone, but you certainly wouldn’t lie to him, either. if it was too much, surely you’d let him know. it’s better to get this off his chest now before he roped you in too deep.

long, careful fingers danced against your calf, slow and calming, just like clark’s touch always was. your legs were comfortably draped over his lap as you sat on your couch with him. you two spoke in a whisper, despite having the entire place to yourselves. the conversation eventually flickered out into a silence, words melting away with the breeze that led through your open window. you noticed the way his face contorted into a rather unnatural look for him.

clark, even if confused sometimes, seemed conflicted. this was odd for him. you’ve known him for a while, a lot of which was spent strictly as coworkers, you’ve never quite seen him like this. he’s always dead set on everything. it wasn’t often you saw him second guessing himself. worry started to bubble up inside of you as you watched him chalk up the nerve to maneuver you two into this next topic, the one plaguing his mind.

“is it okay if i tell you something?” clark asks, voice somehow a lot more quiet than before. it wasn’t weak or unsteady, per-say, only a unsure. his round blue eyes flickered up to yours, and all he was met with was the same welcoming energy you always gave him. when you nodded, he took a deep breath, fingers still against your skin.

that’s when those three words slipped from his lips. i am superman. he braced himself, shoulders drawn up and tensed, though eyes still right on yours in an attempts to read your expression. when your lips quirked up into a small smile, clark was a little taken aback. he just let you in on his biggest secret, the one thing he thought might scare you away, and you’re smiling.

“so that’s how you’re getting all of those fancy interviews with him,” you state in just as low of a voice as him. it made sense to you, really. the exclusive interviews and the top-secret knowledge, the unexplainable absences and the sudden need to dismiss himself or the times he secretly slips away in times of particular crisis in the city.

you had your own speculations on who superman really was. you often found yourself coming back to clark. at times, you tried to shake it off, to tell yourself to think logically. you thought you were being naive, or even a little self centered to think you’d know superman. there were so many people who lived in metropolis, even if he was being a bit obvious from time to time. it felt nice hearing clark say that, to confirm your underlying suspicions about the man. it felt even better having the opportunity to tease him.

clark cracked a small smile to match yours, shaking his head slightly at you. you unknowingly confirmed just how trustworthy you are, and you did it so casually.

“well i wouldn’t call them fancy,” he said, fingers falling back into the same rhythm as before, trailing against your skin.

“what would you call it then?”

“unstructured.”

“that’s more like it,” you agree, huffing out a quiet laugh. “it shows in your writing.”

“funny,” clark says bluntly, eyes narrowing in on you.

that’s when it hits him. a sudden wave of intense adoration washes over his body, consuming him entirely. his last secret, one that was accepted with open arms and an open mind, was replaced with another. one that was just as valuable as the last.

clark loves you. he loves how accepting and trustworthy you are. he loves your kindness and your calmness. he loves how open-minded and non-judgmental you are, too. you take everything as it’s given without a single expectation.

part of clark wants to just blurt it out, to confess this newfound feeling that’s been, somehow right out of grasp, growing inside of him. he’s already done that once today. the last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you with news, no matter how willing you are to listen. instead, he sits with this feeling. there’s no need to rush something that’s already so good.

———

late mornings

you woke up a little later than you intended. it’s not that you had a particularly long night, or you were in need of that extra sleep you were granted. your body seemed to just lean into this feeling of comfort, letting it engulf you and sweep you away. it’s never something you’d complain about, not on a saturday morning. especially not when you woke up in clark’s bed. there wasn’t anywhere else you’d rather be.

his broad chest was firm behind you, bare and pressing against your back, molding himself against you. one of his large hands rested against your waist, sprawled out and comfortable on your warm skin. his thumb was slowly moving against you, rubbing your skin in a delicate manner. you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling, shimmying just a tiny bit further back. that’s when he noticed you were awake, his hand gently squeezing to acknowledge you.

“g’morning,” clark mumbled against your skin, lips brushing your shoulder. “sleep well?”

“mhm,” you affirmed sleepily. “very well. did you?”

“always do when you’re here.”

it was the truth. while he may not need to sleep, at least not as often as you do, he rests anyways. he finds it much easier when you’re around. something about being this close to you, his breathing slowing to match yours, watching your drowsiness take over, and seeing how peaceful you look so deep in sleep helped him relax enough to succumb with you. it always felt nice to do so, to rest his eyes just for a few hours. this is an intimacy he loves sharing with you.

love. there’s that word again. he couldn’t help but feel it when he’s this close to you. there was no stopping this feeling inside of clark. it rattled inside of him like a bell tower at the strike of noon, loud and relentless, yet to be expected. how could he not feel this love when he’s near you?

you began twisting in clark’s arms, shimmying your way around to face him. you were met with his soft eyes and his charming smile as you lean into him, your lips brushing against the very center of his bare chest. it’s like you could sense what he was feeling, despite him knowing very well that you couldn’t. still, he believed that, on some level, you two were connected, interlocked in some far off, universe binding sort of way neither of you could quite understand. he may know a thing or two about different worlds, but that didn’t mean he knew everything.

———

coffee order

clarks week had been particularly busy for him. deadlines for new and intriguing stories he didn’t quite have put together yet were rushing up on him. problem after problem seemed to arise in metropolis that needed his immediate attention more than usual. it was odd being who he is and still being so strung out and worn thin. he can’t have it all, he told himself. these were all responsibilities he was willingly and proudly bearing.

hunching over his desk, clark stared intensely at his notebook full of information, forehead placed in the palm of his hand. he stopped retaining what he was so desperately trying to read ages ago. it was hard to focus when he was so on edge, expecting nothing but the worst to erupt any minute now.

what grounded him in the moment was you.

clark heard your sweet voice even before you made it to the floor. he could tell by the dinging of the elevator that you’d just gotten on, greeting the folks around you pleasantly on your way up. he wasn’t even sure how he knew to listen up for you, it sort of just happened. something deep inside of him must’ve been waiting for you, calling for your presence. he couldn’t help but perk up in excitement, shoulders straighten just a little in his seat.

and, even if he kept his eyes on his notes, it was obvious now that clark was not reading what was written in front of him. he couldn’t even if he tried, not when you were on your way up the building. despite his excitement, he didn’t turn when the elevator door opened up onto the floor. he didn’t get up to greet you or acknowledge you. sooner or later, you’d make your presence known. your desk was right next to his, after all.

clark only too a peek around when he noticed the scent of coffee radiating from you. your heels made a slight slacking noise against the floor as you found your way over, four cups of coffee in a holder ready to be passed out. the first two were handed off to lois and jimmy, the third to him. you gave him that same smile you always give him in the mornings: grateful, pleasant, shimmering. while the two of you weren’t exactly public with your relationship, you two were glaringly obvious with the way you ogled each other.

“figured you could use a pick-me-up,” you told him, setting his coffee down on his desk next to his notepad. “you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, thank you,” clark replied, eyes staring up at you, wide and grateful. he nudges his glasses up on his nose as you continue to smile at him, taking your own coffee and making your way to your desk.

that’s when clark noticed the writing on the cup. in black, his order was written neatly on the side, etched out by the baristas that made the drink. in blue, there were a few small hearts next to it, bright and obvious. when you began digging through your work bag at your desk, shuffling through the slight mess of it all, he noticed you tugging out a blue marker, the same shade as the one on the cup. as silly as it may seem, it made him smile to himself. such a small act had him adorably happy, content with the small act of adoration you’d just shown him.

clark had that urge again, that striking feeling of love for you that threatened to burst out of his mouth in an instant. he fought it back once again. this was no place to confess this to you. you deserved to hear it in a more meaningful manner, in a place much more secluded and intimate than this. he was sure you deserved better than him blurting it out to you now, in a hushed whisper you could barely hear in fear that someone else might catch on. it was more sacred to him than that.

———

unexpected drop in

it wasn’t often you had a night like this to yourself.

on normal nights, you worked later than usual, or you had plans to attend to. while you appreciated the latter, it was still nice to break free from that every once in a while. so, you took this opportunity and ran with it. you slipped into plaid pajama pants and a large shirt you almost didn’t notice was clarks, ordered chinese food in, and plopped yourself down on your couch for the remainder of the night.

it felt nice being able to lounge like this. no one was here to nag your or expect anything of you. no one was here to look over your shoulder or invade your personal space. there wasn’t much that could make this night in any better for you, not when your cat was perched up on the other end of the couch with you. not when you were full on delicious food, curled up watching your favorite show. though, much to your surprise, one of the only things could make this night better was knocking on your front door.

with your eyebrows knitted together, you slowly push yourself off of your couch, leaving behind your blanket reluctantly. you padded your way towards your apartment door, unlocking it and pulling it open just enough for you to peek your head out. there clark was, bashfully standing at your front door, his fingers fiddling together as he patiently waits. you both perk up at the same time, fond smiles matching as you tug your door open better.

“i hope im not intruding,” clark tells you, even though you’re ushering him inside, pulling him by his arm through your doorway. he still worries a little even when you lock the door behind you guys, his eyes scanning the mostly empty takeout boxes in the kitchen.

“you’re never intruding,” you express truthfully. “i love having you over.”

love. that’s exactly why clark was over here. this secret of his was once again becoming unbearable. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it in. if that pretty smile of yours wasn’t going to kill him, surely the love he has for you will if he doesn’t express it.

you were eagerly tugging him over to the couch, sitting yourself back down where you just were moments ago. your cat, as stubborn as always, stays secure in her seat. she simply glares over at clark in acknowledgment, before tucking her head back down on the cushion. with a little hesitation, he sit down next leaning back as comfortable as he can manage for now. slinging his arm around the cushion behind your head, he realizes the shirt you’re wearing.

“i’ve been looking for this shirt for a month,” clark exclaims quietly. you lean your head back as you giggle, draping your legs over his lap like you always do. “you’re a little thief!”

“what’re you gonna do about it, superman?” you ask teasingly, nudging his side with your fingers. he pondered for a moment, humming and everything as he pretends to think things through.

“i think you look beautiful enough for me to let it slide. just this once.”

“do you do that for all the pretty girls you come across?” you question, a smile still present on your lips. “spare them your wrath?”

“only the ones i love,” clark mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. it takes you a second to process what he’s said to you, and when you do, your eyes light up just a little more than before. his eyes are searching yours, desperately clinging to any reaction you have to offer him.

“clark,” you whisper, leaning a little closer to him now. “are you telling me you love me?”

all he could manage was a nod, slow and certain. your faces were close enough now that his nose nearly brushed against yours at his movement. that grin of yours doesn’t falter in the slightest, not even when you lean in to close the gap between you two, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. the moment you pull away, you knew exactly what to say to him.

“i love you too.”

[boundwithpurple]

but fandom in general has this boner for the crux of all characters being highly imperfect self-knowledge - your repressors, your delusionists - but those types are not necessarily the most interesting to me. i think a lot of people have self-awareness but whether this changes things is the operative question. i think this reversion to this as ultimate character type - that there is some BREAKTHROUGH that must come for one not to be miserable, and it is the challenges to that breakthrough, whether it will happen or not, that drives narrative tension - is very sort of historically specific, structured by kind of a psychoanalytic gaze. it’s an framework where what is in the MIND is the most vital part of a life, always, more than material conditions or structures, and the character arc is about battle between individual and mind with other characters as additional opponents providing obstacles or getting in the way. but straight up a lot of people especially in the epic span of human history have not conceived of life this way, you know? and so like what if you took what they say they want seriously. they probably actually do want it. people want things that are either not to their benefit or not actualizable all the time.

[exhausted-archivist]

Translating Thedas: A List of Thedas Languages From Veilguard and Links to Decoding

This has been a long time in the works and I'm so glad to finally have this posted. Some talented people on discord and Bluesky have been doing some HARD work and decoding the languages in both Veilguard and the series in general. While I've working on cleaning up the scripts where I could, a lot of credit for this work belongs to:

Blishtar on Bluesky

Kiranox on Bluesky

Ginkys on Bluesky

@calwyne

@vabonesyart

Ghil Dirthalen on Bluesky

Pundromeda on Bluesky

Jay on Bluesky

Bomble

Languages they've managed to decode + fonts! If you want to check out the entire thread posted by Ghil Dirthalen (Caitie) here is the Bluesky link!

Here is the link to the script pdf that they have shared!

Some of these alphabets are incomplete! But they may be updated in the future. To which I will make sure to do so then! There will be additional posts sharing all of the things that have been translated.

With all that said! Here are the alphabets!

Ancient Elven/Elven

A note about this that Caitie mentions, while the alphabet works for datv and there is some cross correlation with dai elven script, it seems that dai has some extra rules. It is unclear if the dai script is still canon. Eitherway Caitie and the others have made a font! Link below.

Elven Font datv + dai | Bluesky Thread Link

Complete Elven Alphabet from datv, with notes on the difference from dai elven script, where it used a character to indicate when a letter was doubled underneath. datv elven does not share this trait.

Ancient Tevene/Tevene

The script for ancient tevene and modern tevene are the same as far as we can tell. I am uncertain if like elven and dwarven if its changed from dai.

Tevene script, left is the collection from in-game images, right I cleaned up to make it a little easier to read.

Anders

Anders script, left is the collection from in-game images, right I cleaned up.

Antivan

Antivan script, left is the collection from in-game images, right I cleaned up.

Dwarven

A note on this, is this is different than the runes we see in the Descent dlc.

Dwarven script, left is the collection from in-game images, right I cleaned up.

Tomb-script

An important fact about tomb-script is that it was introduced by Emmrich's writer Sylvia Fekekuty, and is specific to the Mourn Watch, it is not the script for Nevarra in its entirety. As of right now in the series we have not seen Nevarran script to her knowledge, nor have we found script we could deem to be Nevarran.

Tomb-script Font | Alphabet Cheat Sheet Bluesky Link

Tomb-script Font Example by Blishtar

Tomb-script alphabet cheat sheet by Blishtar

Conclusion

All text in the game is translatable, unfortunately for us, some of it is just Lorem ipsum or just fake latin. It is thanks to all these talented people that we've discovered it and fleshed it out. A big thanks to them and for them sharing their work with me so I can bang on about it. I will be providing translated works in separate posts organized by language. There is a lot and I'll easily hit the image and text limit.

As things develop, whether in updated/completed alphabets or releases of fonts, I'll keep this post updated. If I missed anything, you come across updates, or have questions, please feel free to drop an ask!

[autumn-equinox-04]

"....Are you kidding me?"

The Evil Overlord looks over at you, as if just remembering your presence. "Oh!" he says, snapping his fingers. The ropes binding your wrists loosen and fall. "Sorry about that," he says sheepishly. "Forgot you were there for a second."

You put your head in your hands.

-

Two hours later, you and your companions are freshly bathed and sat for dinner with your new, unexpected friend. He tells you things about himself, like how his name is Tamsin, and he has a pet cat named Reve that comes and goes, and all he really wants in the world is a friend.

Eden, the kindest one, tries for a smile. "I'm sure you can make friends now," they offer encouragingly, "since you're not.... doing evil things anymore."

Tamsin sighs. "I don't know," he says woefully. "I might go to prison after this."

"Like as a visit, or....?" you ask, blinking. You're still not sure if Sir Evil Overlord is in charge or not, even if he did abdicate.

Gwyneth kicks you under the table. "You probably will," she says to Tamsin. "Considering the fact that you killed all those people."

"What people?" Tamsin asks, puzzled.

Auron scowls at him. "The innocent townspeople, the knights trying to defend the kingdom against you, us almost.... I could go on and on."

"Oh!" Tamsin laughs, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, no! They're not dead! I just put them to sleep."

All four of you freeze. "They're not dead?"

Well. At least no one's been buried yet. To your knowledge, anyways.

You lean forward. "Can you.... put them out of sleep, maybe? They have families...."

"Well, I would," Tamsin says slowly. "Except it turns out waking people up is a lot harder than putting them to sleep. Who knew?"

Gwyneth's mouth opens and closes for a few seconds. "Are you saying you can't, in fact, wake all those people up?"

"Yeah— no, definitely not," Tamsin tells her, shaking his head.

"That's bad," Eden whispers.

"You— you can't just leave them like that!" you say indignantly. "You have to do something to fix your mistake!"

Tamsin shrugs. "Is it a mistake? They're only sleeping. Besides, what can I do?"

Auron grips his butter knife tightly. "You're going to figure it out," he says threateningly. "Or I'll send you somewhere worse than jail."

Eden places a comforting hand on his arm. His grip on the knife loosens almost imperceptibly.

Tamsin gulps and inches away. "There's really nothing I can do," he insists nervously. "Really! I've tried everything already."

You shake your head. "You clearly haven't tried hard enough, because there are still thousands of people sleeping away. Whatever— I'll help you, okay? Maybe if we team up we can find a way to fix this."

Your companions all look at you with surprise. "Really?" Gwyneth says.

"Yes. I'll stay here," you tell them, nodding. "But you don't have to. It was all supposed to be over now, and you have to see your families. You should go."

It's not like I have anyone to go back to anyways is the part you don't say out loud. Because Auron has his grandmother, Eden their uncle, and Gwyneth her little siblings, while you.... you'd be lucky to catch a smile on the street from a stranger. It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. I'm doing important work. You try not to think of what you'll do when the work is over.

"No," Auron says, brows furrowing. "We shouldn't. We're a team, Caspian."

"I know, but—"

"Don't be dumb," Gwyneth tells you. "Where you go, we go."

Eden nods, giving you a small smile. "We can stay here in the castle, right?" they ask Tamsin.

Tamsin blinks slowly. "I don't actually know," he admits. "I did technically step down as ruler, but no one's come to kick me out yet, so.... I'm not sure what's happening."

You rub your temples, trying to ward off the headache you know is coming. "For now, we operate on the assumption that you're still king," you say, then turn to your friends. "Are you all sure you want to stay?"

Auron frowns at you, Eden scrunches their nose, and Gwyneth simply glares.

"Okay, there's my answer," you mutter. Looking up at Tamsin, you continue, "We'll need four rooms."

"I think I can do that," Tamsin nods. "Wait— should I ask someone, or—"

"Brienne is the stewardess. The head of castle operations," you add, when Tamsin looks at you in confusion. "You can ask her, but be nice. Be Tamsin, not His Lord of Darkness or whatever your title is."

"I don't have a title," Tamsin says, affronted. "I'm just a guy. And you can call me Tam, really."

"Okay, Tam," you say. Tam beams. "Go ask Brienne then. We'll stay here until you figure something out."

The second he disappears through the dining hall doors, your companions turn to you with expressions ranging from disbelief, weariness, and confusion. You sigh, preparing for the interrogation you know is about to happen.

The Evil Overlord has won, You and your defeated companions observe how he makes his first announcement to the world he now rules: "I step down as ruler of the world and everything shall go back as before, i just wanted to see if i could achieve this and i did it".

[caffeinewitchcraft]

i love your writing so so so much, all of your stories, shot and long, are so entertaining to read and i like the style of them very much :D

but how do you keep your work so bitsesized? especially the ones from prompts- usually the ones I write from a prompt end up being pages and pages even when I try to keep them short? most of your prompt fiction is quite short, and im wondering how you manage that?

again, love your work so very much :]

Thank you so much for reading!

The answer is a lot of practice. I used to do these timed writes on here called "caffeine challenges" where I'd write on one prompt for one hour. I'd use the time to pace myself and put a beginning, middle and end on something during that time. Then I'd do a round of editing to flesh it out.

I've also answered a similar question before here(X) That was in 2017 though so I have some new thoughts (and use a lot less exclamation points lmaooo)

In that post, I say "magnify, not condense." I think a lot of times people try to put Big Ideas into small formats and then get frustrated when it feels flat on the page. It's totally okay to write longer pieces! But if you're looking to write something under 5k, make sure that the skeleton you're trying to fit in there doesn't need to break some bones first.

Short stories require a lot of trust in your audience. I'm very fortunate that the people who read my work are fantasy/fanfic people who understand what I mean when I write things like "No more dead girls." In that example, I'm relying on the audience's knowledge of the trope where women die to enhance character backstories or elevate the stakes.

Let's take a look at an example of what writing looks like when you trust your audience to varying degrees.

#1

Snow White was used to answering doors. It came from being a princess, even one as neglected as her. There were often advisors and court ladies coming to see her and ply her with gifts to use her minimal influence in their favor. The day she turned twelve was like that. A swarm of visitors filled her parlor, so many that the maids had to wake her at dawn to see the first and she didn't see the last until nearly midnight.

Then, again, the day her father remarried. She'd thought she'd get to sleep in that day, considering how her new stepmother was already looking at her, but the first knock sounded before she had even washed her face. That time was harder. Those visitors didn't bring her gifts and well wishes. Instead, they brought warnings couched in advise.

You will need allies, princess, when the Queen has an heir.

Meaning they thought she wouldn't last once the Queen did. The joke there was that Snow White did last and every year the Queen remained barren the knocks increased. The moment it began to look like Snow White would inherit...well.

No one expected the King to fall ill so quickly.

After that, she had a lot of visitors wearing all black. Mourning periods last a year in the Kingdom. Snow White rose with her visitors instead of the sun.

So when the knock came - three triple knocks and three taps - waking her from sleep, she didn't think about how she was in the forest or that it was very early or that the dwarves only knocked when their hands were too full of gems and they had to use their feet to kick the iron plate nailed to the bottom of the door.

"Come in," she said, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. The bed was situated in the far right corner of the room, diagonal to the door. Whoever entered would be able to see her rumpled state. No one would enter her bed chamber that wasn't supposed to - only a maid, probably. Or a-- Her eyes shot open. Her heart skipped a beat. There weren't any maids here. No officials, no nobles, no advisors. The door handle twisted first one way. Then the other.

The dwarves' warning rushed back to her too late. Never answer a call in this forest. Did it matter that she was half-asleep?

Apparently not. The latch clicked when it fell and the door slowly began to move.

It creaked open which it shouldn't have considering how often the dwarves oiled the hinges. It was almost like there was a great weight monster on the other side of it, straining and straining against the wood. Snow White could feel this presence now as she jerked out of bed and stumbled to her feet in the center of the room. Did she have time to grab a pot from the hearth to use as a weapon? Should she push the door closed?

Too late. The door opened.

There was a witch on the other side.

#2

"Come in," Snow White said, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. She froze. She heard the knock after she'd already spoken and she cursed old instincts as she leapt out of bed. In this new place, deep into the forest, no one would knock like that on her door, not at this house, not in that sly, triple-knocking pattern.

She wasn't a princess now. She was a girl in the forest. The dwarves gave her one warning. Only one.

Never answer a call in this forest.

The door knob twisted. Right. Left. Her feet faltered on a step towards the door. Then on a step away. Her eyes jerked to the pots in the kitchen. Should she..?

Too late. The door opened.

There was a witch on the other side.

#3

The instincts from her time in the castle woke before she did. Snow White flung herself out of bed and into the center of the room. Someone had knocked. She had sleepily invited them in.

Never answer a call in this forest.

Her eyes darted to the twisting door knob then to the pots in the kitchen. Her shaking legs couldn't decide whether to run forward or back. Or maybe--

Too late. The door opened.

There was a witch on the other side.

-----

(Forgive any errors, this is a quick example)

In my mind, those three options do very different things. The first example fits in a longer piece. Maybe a novella (30k words). It gives us a deeper look into Snow White's past and takes care to lay out the context for why she invites the visitor in. I consider this style of writing very gentle. It's a slower pace and gives the audience a lot to work with. Even if a reader skimmed this example, they'd probably end up at the same place of understanding as someone who read it more thoroughly.

The second would my preferred as someone who writes short stories between 4k and 10k words. It gives us a hint about why she opened the door (old instincts... not a princess anymore...) but not specifically why (it doesn't give us the scenes of visitors in her parlor). It trusts the audience to understand that Snow White had visitors because she was a princess, therefore princesses must have a lot of visitors for one reason or another. Then when it comes time to flee or fight, her thought process is implied rather than shown. (Should she...?) It invites the audience to panic and plan with her, but doesn't tell them how she does it.

The last would be something I might use in a flash fiction piece. To be honest, it would probably be my opening. By opening with Snow White flinging herself out of bed, only belatedly realizing she'd invited someone in, I'm trusting the audience to understand a lot. That she was sleeping and was woken abruptly, that Snow White is filled with adrenaline by the realization, that she had received a warning (and because it is Snow White, the audience might understand it was from the dwarves), and now she must fast the consequence of unwittingly ignoring it. It sets a punishingly fast pace for both Snow White and the audience.

-----

Sorry for the long read! The TLDR is that in order to keep my work bite-sized, I pretend that the person reading my story is me. That they've read all the stories I have and that I don't need to explain every moment deeply for them to understand the stakes/character.

The bonus is that if I do it like that, then when I do dive deeply into the character (usually at the climax) it has more impact and leaves the story feeling well-rounded.

Thanks for reading and sorry for rambling! I was a lot more succinct in 2017

[m3mento-m0rii]

If its alright id like to request some headcanons for the saja boys with a witch s/o have a good day or night

Sajas with a Witch S/O—

1.8k words; Saja Boys x Witch! Reader Masterlist | Requests paused!

How do the Sajas react to having a witch partner?

A/N: I really liked brainstorming this one! It was a fun topic. Okay, I hope you enjoy!!

Jinu—

There wasn’t really any hiding it with Jinu. Not that you were trying to. He had his own abilities, so it wasn’t hard to spot yours.

It wasn’t something discussed, either. It’s the way that you understand him better, too; you likely already have a lot of knowledge about demons. Just a mutual understanding of the other. 

It’s just something that’s there, and that’s comforting.

Jinu likes to watch you work, whatever that means to you. Whether that be grinding up herbs or stirring some abnormally scented thing in a pot, his eyes would remain on you

There’s quiet appreciation in watching you be you, and it makes him feel incredibly soft. Because this is your type of domestic, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Speaking of herbs, he’ll help you grow them! Never forgets anything about each plant.

If there’s ever something that you’re running low on that you can’t make yourself, he reminds you to order it. He’s always helping you keep track of inventory

If you have a familiar? They take to him very easily, and Jinu loves them! 

If it’s something carryable, you might even find him walking around with them.

They stick around Derpy and Sussie a lot 🥹. Speaking of Derpy and Sussie, they’re quite fond of you. And you even understand them better than others might, because, well . . . you’re used to paying attention to that.

He often watches to see how your magic differs from his own. Is it teachable? Can you trade?? Maybe if it’s something safe, you both try.

When he’s bored, he’ll read your books. And he remembers all of it. Might even write notes in his pretty script in the margins underneath yours, questions that he won’t verbally ask that you’ll answer later in passing for him.

Sometimes it’s in a language he can’t understand, so he’ll come sit next to you if you’re free and wait for you to translate it. Maybe even just lay there. It’s all subtle exchanges and soft moments, and that’s the best way, to him.

Overall, one of the easiest adapting Sajas. Finds you vv comfortable and homey <33

Abby—

Ultimately very curious about you! Doesn’t know much and is always willing to learn. He’s all about expanding his worldview, after all

 Will listen to you yap about it forever. Wants you to tell him about every little thing

Might even take notes

He also just likes to hear you talk, it’s very soothing for him

He also watches you a lot, and will ask questions. 

Abby hasn’t explored much of his own abilities as a demon before—he’s never really had to. He had strength, and that was enough. You make him wonder what else he can do!

Abby, for the most part, is very delicate and attentive with everything. Of course, sometimes he’s a little clumsy, but for the most part he’s conscious of everything going on around him, especially in regards to you.

He thinks you’re so wonderful when you’re just being naturally you. It makes him feel warm inside, to see you passionate about something, especially if it’s ‘niche’ (to humans, at least)

Can’t read the weird language in your books and won’t try. Why should he, when he could hear your voice explain it to him so sweetly?

Extremely invested in your culture! Traditions? Events? Weird rituals? Sure, he wants to know all about it!

Collects any and all charms you give him

You have a familiar? Abby’s pretty ecstatic! Quickly tries to befriend them, because . . . they’re a piece of you. And he loves every part of you.

Abby is fascinated by you’re weird ingredients, but . . . would probably stay away from them until you needed them. They do unpredictable things, you know; dusts and glittery waters and plants he can’t remember the name of (he’ll always remember their purpose, though)

Always waiting for you to call him in to help

If you can stand his curiosity on the subject, Abby’s willing to be your apprentice 😭

Starts to find the small things about life—the nature, the routines, your view—even more magical, because you make them so

Mystery—

Mystery already knows all of this stuff, silly.

He had been pretty far removed from humanity, before he’d come back up. Mystery is familiar with otherwise foreign concepts. He’s more acclimated to your craft—not in the structured way Jinu is, in the wild way

He probably already has some of the things you do—he treats you like normal. Because for him, it is normal. It’s better than normal, because you turned something he had turned to in the dark and made it something he could feel in the light.

Mystery doesn’t need to read your books—he understands that, already. One thing he likes to do with you is sit and come up with alternate ways to get the same result

Sometimes, they don’t always work, and you have a mini-disaster on your hands—demon magic and witchcraft are sometimes incompatible in some ways—but the fun is trying again, isn’t it?

Always knows where you are and what you’re doing. He just knows. You do the same

You’re the same type of person, if that makes sense

He can already do lots of ‘weird’ things. Doesn’t need spells to accomplish that. He’s very amused when you mimic his behaviors, though

Mystery and your familiar are silent friends. He’s a bit of a fidgeter and your familiar gives him something to do with them.

He’s not much of a plant person, but will always remind you it’s time to take care of them if you need the help

He likes the crazy aspect of your practice. He wants to see all the out-of-ordinary things and the plants that come alive and that seemingly unassuming jar over there that darkens when he tries to look at it. Mystery’s just as whimsical as your environment and he feels like he can embrace it

Mystery wants to see your crystals and candles and all the things you use to help you carry on your day.

Mystery doesn’t hide behind the glamour when he’s with you. There’s no reason to; no point. Buried in every nook and crack of your practice is another piece of his safe space that he would never abandon.

You’ve always made Mystery feel safe to be himself, and this is no different. Mystery fits right in.

Romance—

Romance was the most skeptical about it at first

Not in the way that he doesn’t believe you, but in the way that he’s a bit hesitant. He doesn’t know how to broach the topic, and he’s incredibly cautious around your stuff

Because wdym that jar can hear him??

It all changes, though, when you invite him to help you stir over some pot.

It wasn’t a big cauldron, like in typical media—something small that you could set on the stove. But what really got him was the contents

Why were they so . . . sparkly? In the way that it refused to merge with the liquid, curling through the crimson in wisps.

It was pretty, in a way he wasn’t used to. And when you handed him the spoon and told him to stir, he had no problems watching the swirls form

From that point on, Romance was more invested in what you did

“. . . I guess you could call me bewitched.”

Queue the audible groans

If you have a familiar, Romance is the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t like it, but eventually adopts it.

It follows him around a lot, everywhere if it can help. When he finally asks and you tell him it’s connected to you, too, it makes him melt. Really, it made his heart stutter.

He likes to hear about the effects of your products. What can they do? Some can help his glamour, you’ve found a way to fix damaged hair? Medicinal salves, elixirs? That’s his speed

Starts to fall in love with the aesthetic of you, too, just like he fell for you you

He likes the stuff that can change the way the environment sees or can be seen

Watching silvery smoke curl into the air or sunlight in the middle of the moonshine is something he never thought he’d be able to see, but here you were

Every day you showed him how lovely your world could be, how there was nothing to fear. He acclimated to your lens, and it was prettier than he first realized. Slowly, you made him more comfortable with that world; but don’t get it twisted, he’s always comfortable with you.

Baby—

Baby’s pretty cool with it

He’s interested in ways that the others mostly aren’t—he wants to see the abnormal, to understand the dangerous

He’s not much of a helper, but he loves to hear you talk about it. When Baby doesn’t feel like talking, he’ll often ask you to fill the silence

Make no mistake, he is listening

He’s the type to tap on jars and watch the once unalive contents come to life

Will pull you around by the hand when he’s not doing anything and point at random things, asking you to explain “Those are spider eyes. That’s seeweed—no, not from the sea. That’s . . . a table.”

Baby just likes to see you

He means, see proof that you exist. That’s enough for him. So when he looks around his room to find something to help with his glamour or some candle that burned too high and blue and smelled like ginger, he’d smile, because you’re around

Really likes your place. Similar to Mystery, he feels even more that he can be himself around you. You’ve probably seen worse

If you have a familiar, Baby takes to it easily. They just . . . chill together. And you weren’t surprised, but something stirs in your chest when Baby makes a habit of reaching out to pet it and pulling them to sit on the couch with him (if possible)

He never forgets their existence. It’s quiet acknowledgement. A scratch behind the ear or gentle strokes against feathers—whatever it is, it receives his attention, too

Sometimes finds it easier to show he cares for you in this way than outright and blunt with you

If Baby catches you at some oddly specific hour drawing things on the floor, he’s one of the least alarmed. But he doesn’t comment on it

That’s a lie, he’ll make some joke about “Charlie, Charlie, are you there,” and then duck when you throw an emptied bowl at him, but it makes him laugh. Then, he sits and spectates quietly, if you allow

Will volunteer himself as tribute for anything, if that’s needed. He doesn’t care—he trusts you (even if he struggles to say that)

There’s something different about you. Obviously, you’re a witch. But it’s not just that. Every day is something new and it brings a new luster to life, and he likes it more and more every time

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N:

Morii's Business Class: @kpopmultistans @momentomoribitch @queensnowlake-wof

[theoretically-questionable]

@strikeslip

(I'm assuming you mean you're a software engineer and that your overall knowledge of LLMs is greater than mine — I'm just a technical writer/research paper editor.)

I've written something like 20k words on LLMs and neural networks in healthcare over the last twelve months (such as here), most of it being an ad hoc assemblage of my findings and frustrations as I get up to speed with the scientific literature on the topic (there is a lot of outright malpractice).

Now I'm considering producing something more targeted and planned out (and better formatted), aimed at people working in companies like yours who want to better articulate arguments against this stuff without falling into misinformation that might come back to bite.

Most of my knowledge is based on case studies and public anecdotes, though; I don't have a lot of insight into how these things are raised and discussed on the corporate/workplace side, and I think that's a blind spot.

Do you think a long-form resource that specifically provides counter-arguments to commonly proposed LLM use cases in healthcare (with data, citations, and examples) would be actually useful? Is that even a feasible goal, given the scope of things?

If so, I'd love to pick your brain (even extremely briefly) on the most commonly proposed uses you've seen, and the most effective counter-arguments you've found — or if there are readings/resources like this that already exist and have been useful for you/your colleagues.

good lord WHAT is your job?

I'm a software engineer for Microsoft. Which is a job I DID honestly enjoy quite a lot until whatever the hell's been going on lately.

Like imagine you're an architect and you get pulled in to help build a house. And it's a pretty well-engineered house! You can recognize and appreciate this and contribute the same standard of quality.

Until the guy who controls all the money shows up one day and says houses are NO good anymore. People want a BOX for the AI to live in. And actually start tearing down walls and ripping out the electrical and plumbing because the AI doesn't work with all that. Just make it a BOX for the AI.

So you do what they say and rip out things you're proud of and smash holes to drag all the AI through. But the AI is constantly changing and no one knows who you should ask to understand the shape the house needs to be to fit the AI. And the people who do know are probably too busy getting their necks breathed down by members of leadership who are paid millions a year to tell you to just do whatever ChatGPT does. So your team gets dicked around with unclear instructions given with absolute urgency. Also every 6 months they lay off 3% of the company so you walk in one day and Bob who's worked here for 25 years is just gone.

Also the AI is supposed to get good enough at building houses to replace your job. Maybe. It doesn't actually do that but the guy who controls all the money is hinging all that money on convincing other people that's true.

I miss house.

[formulafanfics13]

Hear me out: wags can call her to take care of / brat tame their boyfriends while around the globe. Example: alexandra cant come to one gp so she calls reader and tells her to fck charles... thank you!!

paddock emergency contact

Masterlist

warnings: NSFW (18+), smut, F1 grid x reader dynamic over time, reader is like a paddock-approved brat tamer, established arrangement between reader and some WAGs, Charles x reader in this part, Alexandra is aware and approves, emotionally detached sex, brat taming, dom!reader, Charles is needy and cocky, Lando is cocky and smug and absolutely begging for it, established dynamic with reader + Magui’s full knowledge and approval. degradation/praise mix, light choking, thigh riding, face sitting, overstimulation, edging, reader makes him beg, mutual respect but filthy filthy vibes, soft fluff at the end (but barely), lots of power play, slight cuckquean undertones but with WAG permission

You get the text at 2:17 p.m., local time. Backstage at Suzuka. Charles is in his media pen being a cocky little shit.

Alexandra: I can’t make it to Japan. He’s already spiralling. Take care of him for me? You know how.

You smirk. Put your phone away. Start walking toward the Ferrari hospitality suite like you’ve just been promoted. Because technically, you have.

Charles is lounging on a red leather couch. Sweaty. Messy. Shirt clinging to his chest. Looking like sex and knowing it.

He spots you. And grins.

“No Alexandra?” you ask, leaning on the wall beside him.

He shrugs, fake-pouting. “She’s in Milan.”

You lean closer. “And you’ve been acting like a brat all morning, haven’t you?”

His smile drops. You run a finger under his chin. Soft. Dangerous. “She told me to fuck it out of you.”

Charles swallows. Hard.

You make him wait. All the way until after debrief. Until he’s practically vibrating in his seat.

Then you pull him into his hotel suite by the collar. Push him onto the bed. “Strip.”

He scrambles to obey. You stay dressed. All in black. Hair perfect. Lipstick darker than sin.

“Lay back.”

He does.

You climb onto his chest. Pin his wrists. “You wanna come?”

“Yes.”

“Then earn it.”

You ride his face until he’s breathless. Then let him beg. Then edge him. Twice.

He moans like he’s losing his mind. Like Alexandra didn’t train him perfectly to need this. “Please,” he whispers, eyes glassy. “Please, I’ll be good-”

You let him come. Hard. Messy. Then kiss his cheek. “Good boy.”

Alexandra texts again later.

He behaved?

You send back a photo. Charles, fast asleep in the sheets, bite marks on his thighs, and your necklace still clutched in his hand.

Like an angel.

The next morning, your phone buzzes twice before you even finish brushing your teeth.

Magui. 1 new message.

You open it. A screenshot of Lando’s post-FP1 interview. Messy curls. Arms crossed. That cocky little glint in his eye that screams someone stop me.

Underneath it, she’s written: You watching this? I can’t. Take care of it please. He’s being insufferable.

You grin.

Then: Use the grey shirt. The tight one. He can’t think straight when you wear that.

You don’t say a word when you see him. Just lean on the wall near his media pen, watching.

He spots you. Does a double take. Then smirks You’re wearing the grey shirt. No bra. Lips glossy. The same look you gave Charles yesterday, and everyone knows it.

Lando’s voice stutters halfway through his next sentence. You tilt your head. Smile. And walk away.

He shows up at your hotel room an hour later. “Magui sent you, didn’t she?” he asks, hands in his hoodie pocket, trying to look casual.

You let him in. “Obviously.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, I was a little-”

You shove him down onto the bed. “Shut up.”

Lando’s cocky right up until you unzip his hoodie. Until your hand wraps around his throat and pushes him back into the pillows. “Gonna be good for me, Norris?”

He nods. Smirks. Still fucking smug. So you get on your knees. Pull his joggers down. And wrap your hand around his cock without warning.

He groans. You kiss the inside of his thigh. “Not gonna let you come until you say you’re sorry.”

“For what?” he pants.

You squeeze. “For being a cocky little shit.”

He gasps. You take him into your mouth slow. Then fast. Then slow again. Every time he whimpers or moans or says your name, you pull back.

“Say it.”

“No.”

You slap the inside of his thigh. “Say it.”

He growls. “I’m sorry.”

You suck him hard. He cries out. Then pull back again. “Why are you sorry?”

He’s sweating. “For being a cocky little shit.”

“Good boy.”

He whimpers.

You ride him without mercy. Hands flat on his chest. Making him look at you the whole time. “Still feel like a big man, Norris?”

He shakes his head. Breathless.

“Gonna tell the cameras about this tomorrow?”

He moans.

“Answer me.”

“N-no. Just you. Only you.”

You let him come then. Hand around his throat. Your name on his tongue. He lies there after. Wrecked. Pink. Silent.

You grab your phone.

Text Magui: All sorted. Attach a photo of Lando lying on the bed, boneless and glassy-eyed, your thigh in the corner of the shot.

She replies in two seconds. Thank you. You’re a national treasure.

[in-my-feels-probably]

can i pls request a rhysand x f!reader who’s pregnant asf and everything make her upset and he just sits there and comforts her everytime she’s crying over spilled milk or smth

Sweet Disposition

Request: can i pls request a rhysand x f!reader who’s pregnant asf and everything make her upset and he just sits there and comforts her everytime she’s crying over spilled milk or smth

Hi! This is my first attempt at writing for Rhys, and also my first attempt at writing a pregnancy, so please bear with me. This was such a cute little request, I couldn’t pass up on it. Hopefully you like it :)

(Warnings: none? very vague shitty symptoms of pregnancy, but otherwise i think its ok, let me know if i missed anything. also only semi proofread oops)

—

From the second Rhysand found out you were pregnant, it was like he was looking at you through rose colored glasses. He pretty much always did, seeing as that he was completely and totally head over heels in love with you. He was as whipped as they come, and proud of it. 

But the knowledge that you were carrying his child put his view of you on another level. 

He’d spent the last eight months gazing at you with love and adoration in his eyes, unable to keep himself from smiling at the mere sight of you. It was all he could do not to fall to his knees and thank you for how happy you’ve made him every time you walked by. He genuinely considered it sometimes when he listened hard and could hear two heartbeats instead of one. That was enough to have him nearly bouncing off the walls of the townhouse, much to you and everyone else’s exasperation. 

As the pregnancy progressed, you got more and more emotional (and irritable, but he’d never admit it). Everything you felt was heightened. 

Sometimes, that was a good thing. 

About halfway through the pregnancy, Rhysand surprised you with a nice bath and your favorite meal. He’d been doing lots of little things like that, but he’d really outdone himself that night. Your back ached constantly, and you’d been having trouble keeping a lot of your meals down. On top of that, you’d been craving foods that you normally hated. He could tell you’d been struggling, and he knew he had to scheme when you left for one of your walks. You came home to the tub filled, the scent of essential oils and bath salts wafting through the air. He’d lit candles, your robe and slippers ready for you next to the tub. You could smell your favorite meal wafting in from the kitchen, along with a sweet treat.

You barely made it through the door before you burst into tears, practically melting at the sight of your mate and the scene before you. 

“Sweet girl,” he murmured, gently guiding you into his chest. “Come here. You’re alright. What is it, love? Hmm? Talk to me.”

You murmured something unintelligible into his chest, clinging to the fabric of his shirt. He gently coaxed your chin up so he could hear you more clearly, patiently waiting for you to repeat yourself.

“You’re just so sweet,” you finally managed to get out, lips puckered into a little pout. 

Rhysand could’ve died happy on the spot. How did he get so lucky to have you? He thanked the Mother every night for you and the life you were giving him. He held you close, letting you calm yourself down.

“You’re in serious need of some pampering, love,” he chuckled, brushing your hair out of your face for you. “My extraordinary girl.”

So, yes, sometimes your heightened emotions and pregnancy brain served you well. You got to experience love and happiness and affection on a new level, basking in your mates' kind gestures. 

But more often than not, they didn’t work out in your favor.

The farther along in the pregnancy you were, the worse your ability to control your emotions got. 

You snapped at Rhysand often, immediately regretting it as the words left your mouth. But he’d never even let you get an apology out, casually dismissing it and moving on every time. It got to the point where everyone in the house walked on eggshells around you, too afraid of waking the beast to be around you for extended periods of time. 

After yet another sleepless night, you’d dragged yourself into the kitchen, on the hunt for a snack and some coffee. The healers allowed you one cup a day, and by the Mother, you were savoring every last drop of it even if it killed you. You waddled down the stairs and into the kitchen where the boys were already awake, leaning against the countertop as they talked. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Rhysand greeted you, guiding you into a chair at the table. “Here’s your coffee. There’s donuts from that bakery you like if you’re interested.”

“Thank you—” you started to say, only to freeze up as you looked down at the mug in front of you. 

Rhysand’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What is it? Too cold? Too hot?”

You barely heard him as you looked down at the mug, analyzing it. It was heavy and an odd shape, awkward in your hands. It was one of the mugs that only ever came down from the cupboard when everyone had hot cocoa in the winter months, otherwise collecting dust next to the fine china.

It was stupid, your rational brain recognized — getting upset over something as silly as a mug. 

But you’d used the same mug for the entirety of your pregnancy, and you’d gotten used to it as part of your routine. It was just big enough that you could make a full cup of coffee and still have room for cream. The handle was nice and big, enough that you could wrap your hand around the mug and under the handle without your fingers getting squished. The rim had an intricate design of little flowers and plants, reminiscent of the garden Elain maintained. You were too big now to get down in the dirt next to her without quite a bit of trouble, and you had been for quite some time. This way, you got a glimpse of the flowers without having to waddle yourself all the way out to the garden. It was silly, but it made you happy. It was enough for the time being.

You looked up when one of the boys cleared their throats, and your gaze landed on Cassian. He had your mug in his hand, sipping his tea from it.

It was an accident — you knew that. He had no idea it was the mug you liked to use every day, and he didn’t know how particular you’d gotten about it. To him, a mug was a mug. He didn’t think twice about taking one down from the cupboard that morning. But as he felt the weight of your gaze on him, silent but intense, he began to understand that he may have messed up here. 

Rhysand finally caught on, letting out a sigh. “Baby…”

“I know,” you replied, gripping your mug tight. “It’s fine…it’s fine.”

Cassian, bless his heart, still had no idea what was going on. “Um…what’s wrong?”

“That’s her mug. She uses it every day. It’s her favorite.”

“Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Cassian apologized, unable to keep himself from silently thinking that you were maybe overreacting. He’d never say it to your face, of course, because he liked his face just how it was, and he didn’t fancy a blow to his cheek. But it was a little silly to him.

You just shook your head, willing the tears not to fall. “It’s alright, Cas. It’s…”

You tried your best, but you just couldn’t hold it in. Tears welled in your eyes, and the boys watched in horror as your lip jutted out and your cheeks heated up.

“Hey, it’s alright—”

“I really didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, he didn’t mean to—”

Rhysand couldn’t help but chuckle, interrupting Azriel and Cassian’s panic. His strongest soldiers, huh? Crumbling like a house of cards at the mere sight of your tears. They probably preferred battle to this. Amateurs.

He just took the mug out of Cassian’s hand, transferring the remainder of his tea into another mug, before handing it back to him. He then quickly washed it in the sink, reaching for your mug to repeat the process. In less than a minute, your coffee was in the right mug, topped off in front of you with a little extra cream.

The room was still tense, the boys unsure of what to say. You just sat there with your eyes on the table, embarrassment and frustration at yourself flowing through you.

Rhysand could feel it through the bond, frowning as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“It’s alright, darling. Nothing to worry about. Right, Cas?”

Cassian was quick to nod, plastering on a fake smile. “I like this mug better anyway. Good call.”

The energy in the room quickly dispersed, the boys carrying on with their previous conversations. Rhysand silently stood you up, guiding you back up to your bedroom with a warm hand settled at the small of your back.

When you made it back to your room, you let out a groan of frustration. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he murmured, gently cupping your cheeks.

He was always doing that. Comforting you like it was the easiest thing in the world. He’d gotten extremely good at it, and you clearly gave him lots of practice over the course of your pregnancy.

You leaned into his touch, a pout on your face. “I feel silly.”

“And I feel like you’re the strongest woman in the world,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Plus, you made the boys squirm. That’s always fun to watch.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tightness in your chest easing. “You’re sweet today. Again.”

Rhysand smirked, tucking you into his side. He gently swayed you both back and forth, taking the opportunity to listen to the little heartbeat nestled inside you. The quick fluttering was strong, matching yours. Like mother, like daughter — or son, he didn’t care. Any outcome was perfect to him.

“I’ll be sweet to you every day till the day I die,” he mused, gently rubbing your back. “You’re giving me a gift I can never repay. But I’ll damn well try.”

You playfully nudged him, wiping your cheeks. “Hush! Keep being sweet like that and I’ll bawl…again.”

“Well, we can’t have that. No more tears unless they’re from laughter till at least midday. How about we go down to the kitchen and make the boys squirm again? See how long it takes before they crack? It’ll be fun.”

“You’re evil,” you mused, but you were already waddling towards the door. “Let’s do it.”

Rhysand grinned, following after you. “That’s my girl.”

—

A/N - Hi! This was my first attempt at writing for Rhys, so hopefully I did alright. This ended up a bit shorter than I wanted, but it’s still cute. Hope you like it :) Thank you again for the request :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

In defense of Leona's long sleeves, it does seem like his room is kind of open air (the whole dorm kinda seems that way tbh) or at least has balcony access and big windows plus savannaclaw does have an arid climate which probably gets super cold at night. I think his room probably gets chilly at night which is why he's got long sleeves as opposed to the tank top he wears during the day when its hotter. Jack wears a cardigan in his pajamas, and hes from a significantly colder climate than Leona is, so I think savannaclaw is just super cold and breezy at night (poor Ruggie if thats the case though, buddy's probably chilly at night...)

[ Referencing this post and this post! ]

Yeah, I think the long sleeves do make sense for Leona considering the context!! Long sleeves in of themselves do not always mean they’re unpleasant for higher temperatures; depending on the fabric or how loose the shirt is, they can be just as comfy as short sleeves or sleeveless shirts. You also brought up a lot of other good points ^^

Savanaclaw has large open windows so the air from outside is always circulating inside, including in Ruggie's room and Leona’s room. (Of the trio, Jack’s room is the only one lacking a window, though there could be one on the other side of the room.) This is true for the nighttime too; they keep the windows open ALL day. Outside temperature is essentially inside temperature too.

If we assume that the climate of each dorm mimics that of its genuine biome, then Savanaclaw would be… a savanna! I think the general perception of savannas is that they are jot and arid, but the truth is that their temperatures can vary widely depending on time of year and time of day!

When the sun is out, the temperatures can rapidly rise—and, during the dry season, can reach 40 Celsius (104 Fahrenheit) or more. However, at night, the temperatures can be as low as 10 Celsius (50 Fahrenheit) or less. It seems Savanaclaw would get quite cool once the sun has set!

Thinking about it this way, Jack and Leona’s sleeping attire makes sense. To begin with, Jack is from a snowy region in the Shaftlands so he would already own bulkier clothing items in his closet anyway. He mentions in a voice line that he usually wears a shirt and cardigan combo back home too, as it is “easier to regulate [his] temperature” this way. The same likely applies to Savanaclaw. As for Leona, he appears to wear long sleeves and pants, but loose and made with light enough fabric so that they’re cool and breathable.

I do feel really bad for Ruggie though 💀 His sleepwear doesn’t seem to be a choice; it sounds like it’s the only thing he has to sleep in., so his shirt and pants aren’t as… insulating. According to Ruggie, he “found” the clothes and grew into them. I hope he’s wrapping himself up well with those school-provided blankets 💦

I think maybe people’s expectations got clouded by thirst, what the manga set them up for, and/or lack of knowledge about the savanna (since I'm going to guess most Twst fans don't have experience living in one or studying that biome)? But I'm glad we can still come together to talk about this stuff and figure out an answer :>

[arachnomancer]

This summarizes a LOT of what I think about Gale and the god!Gale ending. I could write a long essay about apotheosis and promise I won't, but my thoughts boil down to the following. For transparency, I haven't played as origin Gale and I haven't romanced him.

D&D apotheosis generally seems to function fairly similarly to that of classical religion: the base "personality" of the person becoming a divinity does not fundamentally change (unless the person himself sees fit to change himself [see: Kelemvor]).

Gale's general arrogance and sort of blasé attitude at the epilogue party seems to be another instance of "riding the initial power high." Like... not going to see his mother sucks and I'm right with Tara in being annoyed with him. That having been said, when I get busy, especially when I feel like a million bucks "professionally," I can lose touch with family, too, and it's not a good thing, but it's also not indicative of a fundamental core personality change. It's being human - and the gods of the D&D pantheon (with the exception of Ao) generally seem to retain mortal failings.

I bristle at the constant characterisation of Gale as having a lot of "hubris." Understanding one's (tremendous) abilities and not shying from them is not "hubris." I personally think that modern society's tendency towards emphasising (fake) humility is not a good thing, comes from religious roots that I don't support in the slightest, and is one of the things that contributes to capable and competent/well-meaning people feeling like their voices aren't powerful/meaningful (because the people who shouldn't be confident are loudly so).

The game, overall, has an omnipresent storytelling bent towards "all power corrupts" that I think is a bit hamfisted at the core, and I like seeing a bit more nuance in the notion of fallible people gaining access to great power. Gale's ambition and thirst for power always seem to be rooted in a thirst for complete knowledge and full understanding of the Weave, and he has never, as a character, given me any indication of tyrannical or sadistic leanings.

No hate to Professor Dekarios, but I will always support my bestie reaching his full god potential.

I know God Gale is considered a "bad" ending by most, but there's just something so funny about a dude who looks at an apocalyptic event caused by the hubris of man, thinks to himself "rip to that guy but I'm different," and then turns out to be totally right. He is built different, actually.

Turns out there was nothing wrong with what Karsus was doing, he was just bad at doing it. Blow up yourself and your entire empire because you tried to become a God? Skill issue. Why don't you try successfully becoming a God instead? What, like it's hard?

[lonelybabydoll444]

Jason Todd x summer fling(?)

You’d gone into this thinking it would be a summer fling, that was obvious to him from the start. Both of you were very busy people individually, and between balancing school work and his vigilantism, how would you be able to have a relationship with Jason Todd anyway?

It was fun at first, staying out late at night and going to clubs to dance until your legs felt weak. He’d carry you to his bike, speed home, and you’d spend the night in each other’s arms. You had to admit, he was a lot more fun than you were expecting, what with him being a vigilante. You thought he might be a stubborn, rugged man with no humor, like that old Bat guy, but the more time you spent together, the more you started to like his company.

His dumb jokes, the slightly smug manner about him, the way he’d tease you relentlessly but somehow still made sure you were always comfortable with him. Holding your hand in a crowd so he won’t lose you, asking you if you were tired in case you wanted to go home early, baby's and sweetheart's, sending you messages every night to check in on you. “Can’t a man care?” He’d tease you when you asked why he was always so considerate. It was nice being with him. As time passed, you both grew more and more attached to each other. Which you didn’t realize was a problem until it was.

Well, with the end of summer approaching, and the knowledge that this meant things would be getting busier in both of your lives, you start to realize that maybe you aren’t ready to let things go. And neither is he. Sure, it was meant to be a fling, but it was hard to not want to continue seeing him after how nice he’d been to you. How kind and sweet the infamous Red Hood turned out to be. So, in hopes of savoring the time you had left together, you both go on living, going on dates and taking turns sleeping over at each other’s places, neither of you daring to bring up the elephant in the room. Until you do.

“Jason, we need to talk,” you start off, taking his hand as you sit down on your couch, guiding him to take the seat next to yours. Jason sighed, knowing what this meant. You were going to say it, you were going to leave him so you can focus on your life, and really who could blame you? College life is hard, and with him having such a dangerous ‘profession’, he didn’t want you to stay up all night worrying about whether he’d come back in one piece, rather than getting the rest you’d need for exams and such. But, little did he know that that’s not what you were going to say.

He squeezed your hand, “I know.. We’re breaking up.” He was about to get up to leave when you grabbed his arm and tugged him back down. “What? No! I want to give us a shot.” He was flabbergasted. Bamboozled, if you will. “Wait, really? I thought you wanted a fling?”

You wanted to go back and slap yourself in the face. How could you not see this coming? A hot, sassy but genuine man comes into your life and you think it’d only last a few months? How ridiculous. You couldn’t let him go just yet. He was too good.

With a shake of your head, you continued, “I thought I did, but.. I don’t want that anymore. I want to be serious." “Are you sure?” He’d prompt, almost hoping you’d change your mind instead of wasting your time on him. “I’m a vigilante, I can’t guarantee a good life for you, a stable one, where I’ll be sure to come home every night.”

“I’m positive," you’d chirp before continuing, “I like you a little too much, I can’t just let you go.” With a snort, you added, “besides, who else is gonna bruise your ego like I do?” That had him cheesing as he pulled you closer.

“Well,” he settled into the couch with a proud smirk, “in that case, let’s watch a movie, baby,” he’d coax you back into laying on his chest, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You’d hum, pecking his cheek, “let’s.”

[chiara-hotel]

With a Reader with Social Anxiety Characters: Phainon, Dan Heng, Aglaea & Albedo

☆ Phainon always double-checks your anxiety

☆ If you're super anxious about something, he'll try to soothe your nerves, even try to build your confidence

☆ He might be horrible with it at first, although he's trying his best, and he will get better at comforting you over time

☆ The longer you know him, the better he gets, and he also lets some of the other Heirs know (only with your consent, though), just so that they can also understand your situation

☆ You'll have to talk with him to let him know exactly what to do, or else he might panic inside (but he'll try to stay calm and pretend he knows what he's doing)

☆ He'll always keep any medications that you might need with him, just in case you might need them

☆ He also keeps snacks just in case you want them for later, if you're feeling too nauseous to have breakfast

☆ Sometimes he'll even make you a third meal sometime at night (if you stay up), just so that you'll still get all the nutrients you need

☆ As one of the Chryosis Heirs, he is in the spotlight a lot of the time; if you are one too, then you will probably also be in the spotlight. In those moments, he'd either run off with you and take a small break, or he'd take the spotlight so that people are focused on him rather than you

☆ Phainon is a social person, so he isn't too worried about talking to people for you if needed

☆ Dan Heng is introverted, though he's willing to speak when needed

☆ So if you have social anxiety, he wants you to feel comfortable, so he'll do most of the speaking for you

☆ If you feel nauseous about it, he'll keep some bags on him, and he'll comfort you

☆ Dan Heng has a small journal with the events that you're okay with, or times you might want to take the medications

☆ Dan Heng is great at comforting people, so usually he can get you to calm down, but if not, then he always has some over-the-counter medications on him

☆ For the most part, you won't need to do anything totally out of your comfort zone, since usually Dan Heng, Welt or even Himko does all the talking in the new worlds. Aside from that, you all stay in the express most of the time

☆ Aglaea knows what to do to help you out in theory, but in practice, she can be a little overwhelming

☆ If you don't calm down fast enough, her Patience can run thin, especially the first couple times that it happens

☆ With practice and time, she eventually gets better and is willing to wait for you (assuming the event isn't urgent)

☆ With her not feeling emotions well, she may not understand why you feel this way, but she'll try to understand you

☆ She'll pick up any medications that you might need, and she'll recommend some for you and have your own private doctor (only if it's serious, though)

☆ Albedo is the sweetest with you

☆ Once you let him know, he can immediately help you out and assist with anything you need

☆ I like to think that he's already knowledgeable on many human emotions and has studied them before, including anxiety

☆ He also studies your reactions to see what you're okay with and not okay with

☆ He'll recommend some medications if you need them, as well as different things you can do to calm down

☆ Since his lab is in Dragonspine, if you're with him most of the time, you won't see him unless Sucrose comes to visit

☆ Or if the two of you head to the town together, but even then, he'll take care of the talking for you and such

[creatingblackcharacters]

As a white person, I never ask Black people in my life questions about race, or bring up a discussion of racism on my own. I feel like I have nothing to add to convos about racism that they don't already know, and that any questions I might have are better directed to google in case I make them uncomfortable. Then I saw you say something else to another asker. Am I mistaken? Sorry if you get this question a lot. I guess I feel like I should demonstrate my values through my actions, and not burden others with my questions and opinions, which are probably not important anyway. I feel like white people sometimes feel the need to prove to random Black people that we're one of the good ones, and I also don't want to be like that

Well, starting with "I'm white and I don't understand, tell me everything about-" is not a great lead (and that's for all of you) lmao. And while it's acceptable here, recognize that it's because I made a choice to do so!

In real life, a conversation about race puts a lot of stress and labor on the person being asked. Mainly because either 1) we might be uncomfortable and don't want to undergo a difficult interrogation about our life just to make you feel more like an "ally", and so we have to lie or awkwardly segue out of it. And/Or 2) we have to weigh the value vs risk of telling you the truth, because telling white people the truth about antiblackness (and by proxy, their benefitting from it) can result in insulting mental gymnastics to downplay one's life experiences and intelligence, or worse, being expected to coddle your hurt feelings because you didn't like what you heard and made it about yourself. Either way, I'm not going to want to be around you further.

(and let me be clear, when it comes to antiblackness, it's not just white folk! I've known NB POC who I've confronted with potentially being perceived as antiblack and had the same meltdown. Hurt feelings ≠ oppression, and it's an insult to have to sit there and treat it as such.)

What really starts conversations about race is having ALREADY DONE YOUR OWN RESEARCH! So... start researching! I don't just start race related convos with white acquaintances! Usually I'm not saying a damn thing until I hear that white person say something logical enough where I'm like "okay, I think I could introduce this concept from a Black perspective and them actually follow it".

It's a risk! So YOU have to be approachable and knowledgeable enough for that conversation to happen! I'm not your therapist, I'm not your token to make you feel less racist. If you want that deeper friendship where I express my experiences with racism with you, then you need to be secure enough to have it. Maybe ask your Black friends, "hey is there anything I can do to make you feel more secure around me when it comes to race? I want to make sure you feel safe because it matters to me." And then actually DO the things they suggest!

[chronic-conjuring]

Plus if you, as a parent/guardian, are THAT concerned about your child interacting with sexual content on the internet either use the available tools to filter it out and block those websites from being accessible or teach them about it first and explain any possible dangers or confusion from interacting with it (no clicking random links, no “live chats”, understanding it’s not always realistic, understanding what fetish content is etc)

If your kid is smart enough to get through any of those barriers put in place to prevent them from seeing anything deemed “risqué” or sexual (which lets be honest here, a lot of queer content/people will, and have already, end up being labeled as sexually explicit and thus censored by the same people who think “female presenting nipple” is a real and tangible thing that’s also bad) then maybe they’re competent enough to know what sex and porn are and how to navigate it safely if given the proper tools. Allowing children and teenagers to explore their sexuality and sexual urges in a safe way is important!!! It’s very obvious that teenagers will and do have sex and as long as they’re informed and safe about it there’s not really an issue imo. We expect them to do it! And if they can read erotica/ erotic fanfiction and watch porn it can be a better way explore stuff without putting them in danger or expecting them to do it with someone else and possibly end up in a bad situation.

But to expand on that: While we expect teenagers to be sexual, we like to pretend like younger children can’t be sexual beings who have curiosities and urges in that regard when that’s just not true, and we have got to find a safe way to allow them to explore that before they start involving other people without their guardian’s knowledge. That’s how you get teen pregnancies, unchecked STDs, strangers grooming them, them receiving outdated or false info and so on.

Fact of the matter is kids will likely have some kind of sexual experience at ages younger than most are comfortable thinking of. Toddlers become curious about their own bodies and other people’s bodies, and will start experimenting on their own. Often with their own body, even with no exposure to sexual content or having an understanding of what they’re doing. That’s just how it is.

We have to stop acting like we can just take that out of the equation if we sanitize everything to a ridiculous degree and ban them from seeing anything deemed sexual or inappropriate. All we’re doing is giving people in power an excuse to police peoples bodies and how they express themselves publicly by hiding behind a convenient demographic with no self agency or ability to fight back. We’re allowing them to look at people and deem their entire existence as inappropriate and too sexual for public safety and that’s backed by historical evidence. It’s always “think of the children!” When it comes to queer people and our visibility anywhere.

TBH I don’t think it’s even actually about exposing kids to actual sexual content since those lobbying for more censorship laws are also lobbying to remove clergymen from being mandatory reporters of child abuse. And we ALL know that children are disproportionately targeted for sexual abuse by prominent church leaders/ members. It’s not even about protecting children it’s about deciding who and what is “appropriate” and worthy of protection and who they can punish for existing outside their narrow views of what’s acceptable.

may be a hot take but i think the fact minors can access 18+ content by just clicking a button that says 'yes im totally over 18 trust me' is like. totally fine tbh. its a non-issue. i dont care if curious teenagers are looking at porn. they've been doing that for as long as porn has existed. id rather teens explore their sexuality through images on the internet than rush into real life experiences when they're not ready for it yknow. the UK is trying to put stricter age verification in place (which in turn is becoming an online privacy nightmare) and like. for what. who is it helping. why is this a problem.