#suffice it to say that I needed more support and more training

[inspired-lesson-plans]

Person who talked about doing homework in my head

Yeah I’m from a very small town with a very small school which meant two things

1) most of our teachers were just out of school and only just figuring out how to teach/saw this school as a place they had to get through to get somewhere better and we (the kids) could tell they didn’t want to be there

2) there were no accommodations for pretty much anything, either for more advanced work or special help. As it was we only ran physics 30 once every other year and did not have a calculus class offered at so it had to be offered online with no in person option

Like there were some teachers who would give me extra things or do more advanced work with me (the principal, who taught high school math, used to visit me in junior high math and teach me advanced math) but in general the expectation was that I would just sit there quietly and play in my phone waiting for class to end. Sometimes I took a walk around the school and none of the teachers would stop me though

I should also say this school did not have any teachers that gave specific homework as its own separately planned thing. Homework (besides home reading) was limited to in class work that was not finished by the end of the class period, but we always have time in class to work on it as well

And yeah my teacher friends aren’t super big fans of the sit and wait quietly plan for kids who get done work early as in some cases that becomes a punishment that makes kids resent schooling

*sigh*

Stories of how others have struggled like yours are very good for keeping us grounded. I came up through a well-funded school district in New Jersey where the property taxes must have been ridiculous. When I decided to start teaching, I knew that I wanted to work at one of the underperforming city schools. I really wanted to stay, but I got fired from one district, and then from a second, and this past year I got fired from substitute teaching at a wealthy, rural school. So clearly, I'm not cut out to be a teacher.

A lot of our problems would be resolved by, for instance, ramping up education spending by a factor of ten and keeping it that way for the next 20 years. There are a lot of great people who need a lot of support to build up the skills necessary to do one of the world's top 10% most difficult jobs[citation needed]. I was one of them. Now I'm working to become a data analyst, and in the meantime I'm blogging out lesson plans for fun, knowing that I'll never use them unless I start a YouTube channel but that sounds like so much work.

[anachrosims]

Blocking the “inzoi” tag.

I’ve done my research, though I’d like to do more, specifically on what their models were trained on, and electricity usage locally.

Keep in mind that: Though their AI is generating textures and models based on local and user-input, afaik it’s using stable diffusion, which was trained with stolen material. As I sit here typing on an iPhone that probably has a supply chain that would make Nestle blush, I have to wonder just how much I want to pick and choose in my complicity, and how much I want to scream at others over it. (There are more productive ways to have this conversation and a little self awareness doesn’t hurt, is what I’m saying.)

Regarding sources:

SustainabilityByNumbers has a good breakdown of AI and data center energy usage and includes a comparison to other industries. (Generation is far less costly than training.)

Carbon Emissions on Writing and Illustrating outlines the emissions for those things with AI vs humans.

How much does rendering at home cost? (Renderstreet) A serious look at the cost of non-AI rendering.

However. H o w e v e r.

It’s articles like this (Inzoi’s use of AI on TheGamer.com) that ultimately have swayed me toward not buying the game.

Setting aside the grey area of locally-generated, user-based material and its costs vs non-AI rendering and modding, we need to consider what we are condoning and supporting when purchasing a game like this. We do not need to be telling the industry that a flagship for in-game AI tools is OK—especially when it was created by a company that is on the forefront of using that tech to the active detriment of so many careers.

The above article does a good job summarizing Krafton’s shady practices with its other investments; suffice to say that this is about boycotting a company who would rather use AI, even if it’s supposedly “”ethical””, than support game developers, who are already actively used and abused by the video game industry (which we are supporting by buying things like the Sims, Dragon Age, etc).

For me at least, it’s also about how much I want to support the shitty techno-feudalistic, zombie capitalism that companies like Krafton and others continue to get away with. The only good thing I can say about Krafton is that, unlike most of the big gaming companies, they’re wearing this use of AI on their sleeve. If you think no AI is being used in other game studios, you are sadly mistaken.

Until companies can show they’ll be flexible in maintaining healthy, safe employment for people, without the massive layoffs the gaming industry is so infamous for, I’m just not signing off on this.

I’m well aware that using Blender, playing video games, owning an iPhone, or a car, or taking public transit, still makes me complicit. I think people forget that they are just as complicit when harassing and sending threats to people who are playing InZoi. I’m not any better of a person for not buying and not playing it. It’s just not something in which I will personally take part.

I’m not going to harass anyone— I can’t stop y’all from doing what you want to do. If you play it, then… you’re playing it. You’re not a worse person for doing so.

I just want nothing to do with it and that’s that.

[sluttysnowangel666]

Chapters 4, 5, 6 of The Song of Blackwoods and Brackens

Chapter Master List

cw: none except cursing and violence

This story is written BY ME and I do not consent or give permission to it being posted or translated anywhere else. thank you for supporting your writers <3

Chapter 4: Girl I’ve Always Been

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"M'lady! What have you done?"

"What?" I ask my handmaiden, who is in utter shock and disbelief at the sight of me. "Have I offended?"

"Your hair, m'lady!"

"Oh... I cut it off."

 "You have the look of a boy! Lord Aeron, specifically. What was the reasoning of this?" She says, repeatedly trying to run her fingers through my phantom locks as if it might make them reappear, only for her fingers to fall continuously once they reach my shoulders. "I'm not sure I know who you are anymore, m'lady."

"Please," I say, "I am a candle in the wind, but I am the girl I've always been. 

"Lord Amos and Aeron will be very displeased when they see of this. The Lord Lannister likely will be as well."

I contemplate, "Fuck the Lord Lannister."

"M'lady, are you feeling well? You are acting... rather rash." She says, growing more and more concerned.

"My dear handmaiden, I feel better than ever."

----

After my handmaiden finally ended her mourning of my hair, she managed to tie half of it up, leaving some down to fall against my shoulders. "I believe this is the best I can manage, m'lady."

"It is perfect. Fetch me my clothes." She does, and returns not long later with a gold dress.

"No. This will simply not do."

"Would you like a different option, m'lady?"

"Yes. This time, retrieve something from my brother or uncle's closet."

"...M'lady? Are you positive?"

"Yes." She presses her fingers to my forehead, checking my temperature likely. When she realizes I don't have a chill or fever, she removes them. 

She exits again, unable to hide the confusion on her face. She surely thinks I am turning mad. 

She returns, "Your uncle's clothes surely would not fit, m'lady. So, I had to get them from your brother's linen closet." 

I slip out of my night clothes while my handmaiden gives me my brothers under clothes. "These are freshly washed, correct, Maeve?" I ask my handmaiden. 

"Absolutely, m'lady. I made sure to retrieve you a fresh set." I stare at my brother's underclothes. 

"I believe... mine will suffice." I say, unable to find the strength to take my little charade this far. She nods, silently agreeing and quickly retrieving me a linen set of under bottoms and blouse.

My handmaiden helps me dress. Her fingers go to lace my corset out of habit, only to realize our daily ritual is no longer that. She clears her throat. "You are all done, m'lady..." She pauses, as if carefully calculating her next words.

"What?" I ask, with a wry chuckle.

"Nothing, m'lady. I simply thought of a jest."

"Tell me."

"Shall I begin calling you, m'lord?" She says with a soft laugh, almost barely above a whisper. She immediately regrets her words. "I'm sorry, m'lady. That was offensive of me."

"My dearest, Maeve," I say, with a laugh at her words. "You could never offend... Perhaps you should." 

She relaxes immediately. "What will you do with your 2 fortnights of acting Lady of Stone Henge?"

"I will train." I say, "Otherwise, my uncle will surely have my head when he returns."

~~~~~~

Chaprer 5: The Training Yard

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

I stepped outside, the cool wet air of the Riverlands misting my face. A sigh parts my lips. I begin my walk towards the training yard, a noticeable limp in my step. A sword I found in my uncle's war chambers drags on my right leg. Perhaps I should hold onto the dagger instead.

Either way, I need to prepare. The only experience I had was play-fighting Aeron as young children, and he often bested me.

I stepped into the courtyard, unsheathing my unnecessarily large sword. I swing it awkwardly at the straw dummy. It wedges into the straw, due to my slow and awkward string. I put my foot in it's chest and push off to release the sword.

It snaps out, and I fall backwards at the sudden force released. The sword falls beside me and I huff in frustration

I stood out there for hours, swinging and swinging until it felt as if my arms would fall off. Tears fell from my eyes as a result of the absolute exhaustion. I wanted to beat the hardly scathed straw dummy with my fists, but I could hardly even stand. My back ached, my legs burned, sweat dripped from every crevice of my body. I likely reeked, and I looked foolish. I couldn't help but begin crying. Not only from the pain, but also at my new found clarity. My plan had been stupid, as had I. My uncle would return and have my head, or worse, I would be forced to push out a Lannister heir, and then my uncle would have my head if the Lord Lannister hadn't beat him to it.

"This is certainly a sight to behold." A voice says.

I turn, red faced and teary eyed. I gasp softly. Before me, stood a tall dark haired Blackwood. Specifically, the heir to House Blackwood, Benjicot. I only knew this as Aeron talked about him constantly. He hated Benjicot. They were always fighting over the land and who they believed to be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. I had seen these arguments from afar time to time. The Lord Blackwood was a rather handsome man, and a fearsome fighter. They called him Bloody Ben. I made a point to admire him from a distance.

I didn't know what to say. He had caught me sobbing like a babe on the dirty ground. "I... Fuck off, Blackwood."

He smirked, amused at my curt response. "Oh, Lord Bracken," He enunciates my brother's title.

Lord Bracken... ME. Bloody hell, I am Lord Bracken.

Those in Stone Henge knew I was obviously Lady Bracken, but the Blackwoods did not. I had to play my cards properly if I did not want this to end badly.

Benjicot continues, "I will never let you live this moment down."

I sigh. I go to stand, but I have no strength in my arms to push myself up. He laughs, rudely. "Enjoying the bloody show, Blackwood?" I spit, adding a rasp to my voice.

"Very much so." He stands there, a smug smile on his face, his hands held behind his back.

I eventually stand after a painful battle with the ground, dragging myself up with the straw dummy. He walks towards me, his eyes never leave me.

Once he is next to me and the dummy, does he only then finally break the eye contact. He stares at the dummy, who was in better shape than me at this point. He snickers at the sight, then turns his gaze back to me. "Did you shrink, Aeron?"

I scowl. "Have you nothing better to do? Go back to your land, Blackwood."

"Don't worry, I am not here to stay on your smelly cattle grass long. I've come to tell you and your bitches stop moving the bloody stones and allowing your cattle onto our grass."

"Fine. Just fuck off." I say. His mouth opens slightly, as if he was not expecting my answer. "What?"

"Nothing." He says, obviously holding his tongue. "Just don't let it happen again. We won't be so polite."

"I bloody well heard you, Blackwood." I say. He nods, turning and walking away and I do the same.

----

"M'lady, surely you cannot be serious!" My handmaiden says, as she rinses and washes all the dirt from today's training from my body.

"Maeve, I fear I've heard you say this phrase more often than naught lately." I respond to my handmaiden.

"This is an entirely different subject matter, m'lady. You met The Bloody Ben. I've heard he eats his opponents after battle."

"That... is surely just a rumor, Maeve. Likely started by Brackens, given our history." I say, she scrubs my hair harshly, making sure to move all the dirt and mud and sweat.

"I suppose you are likely right, although..."

"Although?"

"I also heard they call him Bloody Ben because he deflowers maidens from the opposing side of the war after defeating their betrothed."

"Maeve!"

"I am sorry, m'lady! Likely just a rumor as well." She pauses, "What was he like?"

I ponder, "Rude. But... Gods, he was hellishly handsome."

"I have seen him before, m'lady... He is indeed. How unfortunate he's a Blackwood."

"Yes, rather unfortunate indeed." I say, as she scrubs the final remnants off me.

"Ready for bed, m'lady?"

I step out of the bath and wrap myself in a linen, "I can take it from here, Maeve. You go on."

"As it pleases, m'lady." She says, bowing and stepping out. "Sleep well."

I dress in my night clothes, finally ready to sleep after what was possibly the longest day of my life.

But, I couldn't sleep.

He wouldn't get out of my head.

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6: Sparring

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

"Hurry, Maeve. I must train." I say, urging my handmaiden to lace my armor quicker.

"Yes, m'lady." She says, quickening up her pace. I don't miss the small smirk that flashes across her face in the mirror.

"Do I humor you?"

"You do, m'lady." She stifles a laugh, "Are you hoping to see someone in the training yard? Or perhaps near it, I should say."

"Tread carefully, my dearest handmaiden." I say, smirking softly at her in the mirror, my words holding no harm. She smirks again.

While my body still ached in the most unimaginable ways possible, it did not stop me from rising at the earliest day break. I wanted to be back out there, even if it meant just a glimpse of seeing him.

Something about him was so intriguing. And if he's the seasoned warrior people claim he is, I might benefit to learn from him. 

The walk from the castle to the training yard was miserable. I regretted the eagerness I had felt this morning. I could have been in my bed, sound asleep, worrying about nothing.

Instead here I was in the crisp, cold morning dawn. The sky still a deep shade of blue, slowly lightening with each passing moment. I had made sure to bring my oversized sword, as well as my uncle's dagger for this days training.

I knew my idea was foolish, yet again, when I had stayed out there for hours, training and training until the sun was at its peak. It beamed down on my back relentlessly. Sweat covered my body in head to toe, yet again.

It was at this point I decided the next idea I had, I would bury it as deep as possible so that it never saw the light of day again. In fact, I planned to do that with every idea I might ever get again.

"Back for more, Bracken? This truly does not get old." His voice rings out, I can hear the smile in it. I straighten my back, my breath hitching in my throat.

I turn and stare at him as he makes his way over to me. "I've come to thank you for moving the boundary stones back."

"No need to thank." I say, trying to sound as my brother might. I face the dummy again. I don't even get the chance to swing yet before he laughs.

"By the old Gods, can you fuck off?" I say. He stalks towards me as I begin to step backwards. In the blink of an eye, he unsheathes his sword and beheads the straw dummy.

I stare in shock, accidentally dropping my sword, with my mouth slightly agape. I close it almost instantly, trying to feign my shock.

A raven lands on the decapitated dummy.

Benjicot laughs, "How intriguingly poetic."

I say nothing for a moment, trying my best to hide my shock. "Indeed."

He tilts his head, and stares at me. His stare is one I recognize. He's trying to figure me out, read me, learn who I really am.

"Something about you is rather different, Aeron." He says, almost squinting his eyes at me.

I scramble, trying to think of a quip. The first thing that comes to mind is, "A man glows gold when he beds a Blackwood Lady."

I must've got under his skin with these words, as his smirk immediately drops. Anger is displayed across his face, clear as day. "Pick up your sword. Immediately, Bracken."

"I won't fight you on Bracken land."

"We are not fighting, we are sparring."

"Is there a difference."

"Oh, quite the difference, my Lord. If I were fighting you, I would make a point to kill you. But we are simply sparring, I won't kill you. I might just steal your tongue for being so sharp."

I sigh and pick up my sword. I shift my footing awkwardly. He groans and rolls his head back. "This isn't even gonna be fun."

He walks towards me again and as I go to step back, he yells at me, "Don't bloody move, you fool."

He kicks my foot, repositioning so it's slightly angled behind me. He adjusts my other, wedging his foot between my ankles and kicking again. "Ow! You could just tell me where to put it!"

"Where's the fun in that?" He says, he grabs my waist, forcing me to stand up straight. "Stand tall firm, keep tension here."

I gasp slightly at his touch, making no motion to stop him. I let him take the reins. He sets his hands under my elbows, lifting them slightly to reposition my sword.

"Which is your sword hand?" He asks. I hold out my right, but he shakes his head. "On the contrary. I believe it's your left."

He moves my sword to my left hand, adjusting my fingers around the hilt. "Where'd you learn to fight, Lord Blackwood?"

"I've trained since before I could walk, you fool. If your uncle had been smart he would've done the same to you and your sister. His heirs are bumbling idiots."

"You are quite rude, you know?"

"I'm not rude. But why should I show you any courtesies? After all your family has done to Blackwoods."

"Our family?!" I yell, "You have some bloody nerve-"

"I'm growing rather bored of this conversation, Lord Bracken." He sarcastically sighs, rolling his head back. He steps back a few paces, adjusting his sword in his hand.

I hold the stance he set me in, "Show me what you've got, Bracken."

I charge him with a yell, but he's quicker than me. He dodges, my miss causes me to lean over, letting the edge of my sword hit the ground. He uses this as an opportunity to kick my back. I fall forward.

"You bloody-"

"Get up. Keep fighting. If I had been an opponent you would be dead already"

His choice of words are interesting, since in fact, he technically is my opponent.

I stand and turn, facing him again. He charges silently, the strength of his sword knocks mine out of my hand at my failed attempt to block him.

He points the edge of his sword to my throat, "Dead." He says. I sigh, defeated.

A smirk plays across his lips. "Pick it up and try again. Don't be afraid of your sword."

I do as he says, reverting back to my stance. "Keep your hold tight, or you'll be disarmed almost instantly."

His sentence is barely finished as he swings again, knocking my sword out of my hand again. "I wasn't ready!"

"You think an opponent is gonna wait for you to get into your position so you might fight fairly? If you truly believe that, you're dumber than you look." He says. My face flushes with anger, burning hot. "Gonna cry, Bracken? Let me give you some advice."

He lowers his sword back into his sheath. "Go home, little lord. Turn around and don't come back. Cry yourself to sleep in your chambers, and never return to the court yard... If you wish to live that is."

[beefrobeefcal]

Some angst??? Idk. Maybe there’s something here. You decide.

This is after Frankie tells mouse that he is as big as he wants to get. Mouse, being the wonderful partner she is, listens to his request and stops encouraging any extra ~indulging~ to help him maintain/lose weight.

BUT each time they pass a gelato shop without going in or mouse says no to a dessert menu, it stings. It’s as if he’s been left hanging for a kiss or like he’s been left on read.

Food has become an avenue of affection, and now that it’s closed he’s realizing how much it means to him. And even though he’s the one that asked for this, he feels like he’s going crazy being denied in this way.

To Nonnie, Love Beefro

The bitch is back. Need we say more?

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: A communication breakdown causes a lot of angst.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,546

Content Warning: weight talk, angsty angsty, self esteem issues, communication breakdown, allusions to oral (f-receiving), feederism talk, car smut, masturbation, p in the v, established relationship

Author's Notes: I know this deviated from the original ask, but I hope this suffices, Nonnie. It's not as sweet or innocent as I think you were looking for. Thank you @xdaddysprincessxx for beta'ing & offering ideas! Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for also beta'ing & being their every awesome supportive self.

Things were rough, that much was true. After the night that Frankie had confided in you that he felt he was big enough then thinking out loud about how maybe he was getting too big, you’d done your best to keep his meals at standard portions and not offered anything indulgent to him. 

On a Saturday, Benny had stopped by to return the snow shovel he’d borrowed from Frankie. Having not seen him in a while, you stepped back into the house to let the guys catch up. But you heard everything through the kitchen window as the guys chatted in the backyard. 

“Fish! Holy shit! You losing weight? Last I saw you, you looked... you were bigger!”, Benny chirped with a huge smile on his face, patting Frankie on the shoulder. 

“Yeah... well, you know... was getting pretty big... wanna keep the Mrs. Happy...” 

You almost dropped the knife while you were chopping vegetables.  

You peaked out the window and saw Benny’s face twist in confusion as he looked at Frankie. “I... dude, I thought... I mean, if you’re serious about it, I could always use your help. Trying to become a personal trainer... you know, I need to personally train someone...?” 

It wasn’t like Frankie hadn’t specifically said to you that he might be too big, but the way you jumped at his words and completely changed how you fed him – how you cared for him – was jarring. To see his portion sizes shrink so quickly and not be offered a dessert was disappointing for him. At the rate you changed everything, he couldn’t help but feel that you had wanted him to lose weight. Were you embarrassed to be seen with him like that? Were you glad to have a smaller partner? Did his body disgust you and were you doing a good job being supportive?  

Frankie’s mind would churn and whirl through every insecurity almost nightly as you slept peacefully next to him. When Benny offered to help him slim down further, he thought you would be happier, but it only made him feel worse about himself, and he didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t want to disappoint you.  

Almost four months since Benny offered, Frankie had shrunk. Not by mass proportions, but enough that his silhouette was definitely smaller. It could have been because he wasn’t constantly heaving around a big, full belly anymore, but his clothing was no longer pulled tight across his middle. You did your best not to say anything about his body or comment on his eating, and despite your disappointment at his changing physique, you kept up a supportive and positive attitude. You had no idea that withholding that was eating Frankie up inside. 

The positive side of this was that Frankie’s broad shoulders were definitely broader and his arms were thicker and more muscular. But Frankie was miserable; he missed how you looked at him adoringly as he ate, or how you would squirm under his weight. He’d pulled away and was irritated almost all the time when he was home. He'd barely touched you in the past two months, and it left you wondering why he had become so removed. You’d tried talking to him, crawling onto his lap in nothing but a smile, but he’d declined, saying something along the line of being tired. Needless to say, the dejection had caused your vibrator and dildo collection to increase. 

Frankie texted you on a Friday evening and said he was going to the gym with Benny, and you could eat without him.  Your heart sank when you read the message and you ate your pathetic peanut butter and jam sandwich alone at the table. Your sadness quickly turned to anger with a smack of horniness; he’d gone from needing to make you scream his name and come on his hands, mouth and cock almost daily to barely looking at you, and you had only done what you thought he wanted you to. Not bothering to clear the table, you stomped off to your bedroom and grabbed one of your toys from the drawer. It was a newer one that was specifically used on your clit, and it was the closest thing to his mouth you could get. Not bothering to look at the time, you got to work, making yourself whine and pant, starting the ritual you’d created every time you missed his touch.  

You were so engrossed and close to climax that you didn’t hear Frankie’s truck pull up or the door open. You didn’t hear him come down the hallway because he no longer called out your name; he had stopped doing that a month ago. You didn’t hear him standing in the hallway, rocking between his feet anxiously, listening to you pulling those sounds that he used to out of your mouth. You didn’t hear the hurt that was boiling over into frustration and anger in his mind.  

You did, however, hear the bedroom door open as you came, and when your eyes met his, you barely recognized the broad, angry man standing in your doorway. 

“What. The. Fuck.”, he snarled through gritted teeth. In his heightened state, he couldn’t differentiate whether his anger was at you for what you were doing or at him for not willing to do it to you himself. 

“Frankie... baby... hi...”, you said softly, reaching your hand out to him, beckoning him to join you. 

“What the FUCK is that?”, he barked, clearly hurt, and pointing to the vibrator in your hand. 

You jumped at his harsh, loud tone, then closed your legs and pulled your knees to your body. Swallowing hard, you tried to find your voice, “Honey... I just... I needed...” 

He stepped into your room, his hulking form at the end of the bed. His eyes darted between your face and the vibrator. For the first time ever in your relationship, he felt unneeded and replaced. Betrayal broke out on his face, and he yelled, “You needed what? To replace me? Let me know I can’t keep you happy, so you put of a fucking show for me to come home to?” 

This was not your Frankie. Why was he mad? He’d never been angry before when he’d walk in on you masturbating in the past. He used to take it as the warm up act before he got to the main event, even telling you to finish for him before he got involved.  

“Baby... honey, no! I could never replace you! I just... I wanted a release... I didn’t think it was a big deal!” 

“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding this from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?” 

You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it. 

“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to-to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!” 

He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room. 

After having a shower in the guest bathroom, you’d crawled into the guest bed and tried to sooth yourself by scrolling through your phone. It was only once you heard Frankie come back into the house that you put your phone down. You saw his shadow pass the guestroom door, heading to your room, and then come back out and hover in front of the door. You wanted to call out to him, but it seemed fruitless. He’s turned down so many of your advances and chances to open up, you figured this was it. If he wanted it, he had to make the move. 

Your heart broke for a second time that night as the shadow retreated back down the hallway, and you heard your bedroom door close. 

Your night was restless; you tossed and turned, never able to find a spot that was comfortable. By the time morning light was pouring in through the window, you’d resigned to the fact that you were not going to get more than a few hours of sleep.  

As you laid in bed, trying to decide how to tackle the awkwardness that was sure to come from your next interaction with Frankie, your phone buzzed and your heard his buzz, too, from the next room.  

Calendar Reminder! - 12:00 pm – Taste of the Town! Food Truck Festival 

You groaned quietly, turning off the reminder. You’d bought tickets months ago for this, before Frankie’s health kick, at his request. You’d already made up your mind that he wouldn’t want to go – you weren’t going to make him – and opened up your messages to ask the group chat if anyone wanted the tickets.  

As you typed, a notification popped up from Frankie.  

You still wanna go? 

You were stunned. You knew he knew you’d read the message, and you wanted to answer, desperately clawing at any shred of attention he was willing to give you, but he was still on your shit list. 

Was gonna ask the guys and Hannah if they wanted the tickets. Assumed you wouldn’t want to.  

Through the walls, you heard him get out of bed and rip open the bedroom door. You got out of bed and waited for him to come bursting through the guestroom door, but instead he knocked. 

“Mouse? I-I think... I want to go with you. Might be fun, baby...” 

His voice was soft and pleading, and it made you melt. But you wanted an apology, an explanation!  

“It’s okay... I know it’s not your thing anymore...” 

The door opened up and Frankie stood in front of you with an adorable pout on his face.  

“No. I want to go. With you. I want to go with you.” 

You’d conceded and now that you were standing outside in the sunshine with Frankie as he ate a hot dog, you were glad you did. While the conversation was a bit awkward and stilted, he was at least talking to you.  

You mind wandered, watching the other happy couples walking hand in hand, when Frankie’s voice pulled you back.  

“Mouse? You gonna eat that?” 

You turned to him, then looked where he was pointing – at your hot dog.  

“Oh... no. Go ahead.”, you said quickly. Then as he grabbed it and was about to take a bite, you blurted out, “Are you sure you want another one?” 

You knew it was wrong as you watched Frankie’s eyes fall. He closed his mouth and put the hot dog down onto the picnic table, and sulked. You felt horrible. 

“Honey... I didn’t mean to stop you. I just thought...” 

“Thought what?”, he interjected in a cold, quiet tone. “Thought if I ate that you’d have a fat boyfriend again?” 

You froze, feeling the lump in your throat start. Is that what you had become? That girlfriend? “No... No, I thought it’s what you... I - never mind. You enjoy it, okay?” 

He didn’t look up at you. You did your best to keep the tears at bay, but it was quickly going to be a fruitless endevour. You got up from the table, trying and failing to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?” 

If he tried to stop you or say something, you didn’t know; you were already moving away from him, discreetly wiping your eyes.  

The rest of the afternoon was quiet and somber. Frankie had eaten your hot dog, but avoided anything else except the lemonade you brought him. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you didn’t want this to go on any longer. 

“Frankie?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what I did to fuck this up, but I want to make it better.” 

He stopped and looked at you. You felt his eyes look over your face, examining you. And he was. He was looking for his Mouse; his sassy, hot tempered, spitfire Mouse. Instead, he saw you looking the way you had for months, and he’d ignored it – sad and scared. He pulled you into a hug and it felt different; not just from the bit of weight he’d lost, but the emotion behind it, and you couldn't place what it was be it felt final. 

“I’m sorry, too, baby.” 

The ride home was quiet; the only sound was the radio on a low volume. You noticed up ahead that traffic was backing up on the highway, and as Frankie slowed the truck to a stop, he swore under his breath. 

Then you heard it. His tummy grumbled. Frankie was hungry. 

“Do you still keep snacks in your truck?” 

Your quiet question broke through the silence and was met with an irritated sigh from Frankie. 

“No. Benny helped me clean it all out.” 

“I have a granola bar in my purse.” 

You pulled out the little, wrapped bar and held it out for him. After a brief hesitation, he took it and ate it. 

Silence. 

“You... you got any more?” 

You smiled to yourself and pulled another one out of your bag, handing it to him, and just as with the first, it disappeared quickly.  

“Can we talk? I feel like we haven’t had a real conversation lately... and I just wanna know how you're doing.”, you pleaded softly. You took a risk and placed your hand on his shoulder. 

He let out a huff. “I hate this.” 

You pulled your hand back and faced forward, and he quickly turned, grabbing your hand. 

“No! No no no! Mouse, no, honey! That’s not what I meant! I mean... I hate this diet!” 

“This diet?” 

He turned back, hand returning to the steering wheel. “Yeah... I hate it. I’m always hungry and I just feel like shit, and I don’t feel like myself and I know this is what you want, but - “ 

“Whoa! Wait... what I want?”, you interjected, sounding almost offended. 

“Yeah. You want this. “, Frankie eyed you before finishing, “... don’t you?” 

“I... no! I thought you wanted this!” 

“Why would you think that?!”, he snapped. 

“Be-because you said you thought you were getting too big so I asked if you wanted to make a change and you said yes! I was trying to be supportive!” 

You didn’t mean to yell that at him, but you were so wound up and just as confused as he was. 

You stared at each other until a horn honking broke the silence. Frankie quickly turned and got the truck moving again. 

“You did this for me? Not because... not because you hated how I looked?” 

You stared at him aghast. “How are you even asking that?!” 

“You made me do it so quickly! Like all of sudden you... you just stopped. Stopped everything! It’s like you wanted it and as soon as I said it, you were elated!” 

“Oh my god, no! Frankie, no! I always felt selfish giving you all this food, and then you said you might not be happy with it... I love how happy I can make you with food and I never stopped! I put the same energy I would have into feeding you into... into not doing it as much!”, you said frantically. “Why didn’t you say anything?  Is this why you’ve ignored me? Why you’ve-you’ve cut me out? Is this why you don’t like me anymore? Don’t want to be around me?” 

Frankie slammed on the brakes and the whole truck lurched. He looked at you with wide eyed, his mouth open in shock. 

The horn behind you sounded again, and if not for the moving traffic, you were sure that that Frankie was ready to jump out and punch the guy behind you’s lights out. 

As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Frankie exited the highway and pulled into a parking lot. He threw the truck into park and ripped his seat belt off, then jumped out of the truck. You stayed put, watching him stalk around to the passenger side and rip the door open.  

“What?!”, he barked, breathing heavily with a panicked face. 

“What??”, you asked back, just as panicked as he was. 

“You think I don’t like you?! That I don’t want to be around you?” 

“Yes!”, you cried out softly, grabbing his face. “You keep pushing me away and I don’t know why!” 

His eyes searched yours before he spoke. 

“Tell me you want me to enjoy eating again.” 

“I... what? Frankie, I’m trying to be serious here!” 

“So am I! Say it! If you mean it, say it!” 

“I...” 

“Tell me you want me to eat everything on my plate.”, he growled, reaching around and unbuckling your seat belt. “Tell me you want me to hit my fucking limit every day at dinner.” 

You felt heat pooling in your core. This was the most animated and hottest you’d seen him in so long.  

“I want -” 

“Tell me you wanna watch my clothes get too small again.” 

He pushed you back and crawled up on the bench and shoved his knee right up to your cunt as he hovered over you.  

“Tell me you want a fat guy to fuck you.” 

“I want you to get fat again and fuck me.” 

From the outside, it was clear what was happening in the truck. The door was wide open and your only saving grace was that you were in a parking lot for a nightclub, and it was 2:30 pm. Regardless, Frankie ate you out in the front seat of the car and you finally made it home around 5:00pm – just in time for dinner. 

You made sure he finished everything you made – lasagna of course! Then, instead of Frankie hoisting himself to the couch, he backed you down the hallway to your bedroom.  

“Never wanna go that long again without your pussy on my mouth, princess...” 

You whined as you gripped his full – albeit smaller – belly. He grunted and one of your hands slid down to his hard cock in his jeans.  

“I don’t want these jeans to fit you anymore, Frankie...”, you cooed as you palmed his cock. “Wanna watch you struggle getting them up... got too skinny for me...” 

Frankie made a groaning sound as his eyes rolled and he shoved you onto the bed. You got your clothes off and frantically helped him remove his and you pulled him down on top of you.  

“Fuck! I missed this!”, you growled, biting his ear lobe.  

He shifted and laid on his side and pulled you into a feverish kiss. As your mouths danced, his hand slid between your legs. He groaned again with how wet you were. 

“Can’t wait... need to fuck this pussy... need to feel it, princess.” 

You nodded dumbly, shoving him to his back and crawling onto him. You spat in your hand, gave his cock a few pumps, then positioned yourself over him and sank down.  

You both let out long, low moans, finally feeling like the missing puzzle piece was found. You started moving and his hands gripped your hips, keeping pace. 

“Say it, princess... say it” 

“I’m gonna make you so fat, Frankie...” 

Benny pulled up to your house, determined to find out why Frankie had started coming up with excuses to avoid work outs. It had been almost two months since the last time he showed up and he’d looked like he’d put on a little weight then. 

“Fish? Mouse? Anyone home?”, he yelled, banging on the door. 

Frankie was sitting on the couch, letting dinner settle, and smiled at you then motioned for you to stay seated.  

“I’ll get it.” 

As soon as the door opened, Benny knew exactly why he wasn’t coming to work outs. Frankie’s stuffed belly was almost nearing where it was when Benny started working with him, and the shirt he was wearing looked to be at its maximum tension.  

He grinned and gently elbowed Frankie’s belly. “See you’re putting in a different kind of work, huh, Fish?” 

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz

[reconstructionlegacy]

Ngani Zho Coerced Custody Of Theron

[Zho] had told the Jedi Council and the leaders of the Republic military that he had sent Satele on a vital mission— something he could not speak of for fear of endangering her life. Given Master Zho’s impeccable reputation, none had questioned him. Now, however, the mission was over. It was time for her to return; the Republic had fought too long without their champion. The Sith Empire’s relentless advance had gone too far. She could no longer ignore the Republic’s need. [...] “You promised you would take him,” Satele said softly, gazing down into the child’s wide, wondering eyes. “I will,” Ngani assured her. “If that’s still what you want.” “What I want has nothing to do with it,” she muttered as she reluctantly handed the child back to her Master. [...] As he took the child from her arms, the moment of greatest joy she would ever know ended.

— Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation

BACKGROUND

Ngani Zho trained, according to Lost Suns (admittedly according to Zho the manipulator), Satele Shan, Syo Bakarn, Jaric Kaedan, and Bela Kiwiiks. Obviously, that is not possible for full Padawans, and Satele was under Kao Cen Darach's mentorship in the first trailer (and then he died), so my theory here is that Zho stepped in to "foster" mentor at least some of these promising young Jedi (and gain influence with them).

WHAT HAPPENED

Zho was somehow trusted by the Council (maybe because he partially trained a third of them). Satele became pregnant, went to Zho for advice, and rather than saying "let's talk to the Council, the normal Jedi support structure, which trusts me," he said "I will cover this up. For you." Like a favour.

He said to the Council that she was on a mission, which put a time limit on the 'plan' ("Always with the plan, aren't you?" Zho asks Theron in Lost Suns). By lying to the Council on her behalf, he made it impossible to go to them for support, or at the least heavily implied to Satele that her pregnancy was somehow wrong or shameful.

By isolating Satele from everyone but himself, and putting a time limit on her seclusion, he arranged for her to have no real choice but to give him custody of Theron. (The scion of a powerful bloodline... and possibly even blackmail material against the future Grand Master.)

Then, having secured the custody of Theron, he proceeded to isolate him as he had isolated Satele, and thoroughly abuse him. This is detailed in Lost Suns, and I will not detail it here; suffice to say it began at the earliest when Theron was five, and Theron's life was endangered by Zho, who abandoned Theron upon realizing he was not Force-sensitive.

(SOME OF) THE AFTERMATH

Years later, when Theron is an SIS officer, under convoluted plot circumstances (that is: the plot of Lost Suns), he reencounters Zho. Zho takes another young person, Teff'ith, under his wing, which Theron is unhappy about. (Teff'ith asks Theron, who has used the term 'childhood trauma' about Zho by this point, and will later elaborate with horrific detail that I, once more, decline to repeat, "Scared of him?". Theron says 'no' - you know, like a liar. Anyway -)

(My theory is that Zho was Star Cabal, Revanite, or both, and wanted complete control of the training of the Blood Of Revan... but fuck knows why he did any of this. Your guess is as good as mine.)

I do think, in the text, Zho's treatment of Theron is framed as abhorrent, especially given the cited and open trauma and abuse. There is also a line in Annihilation about him glaring at Satele in a way that reminds me of Theron's textual panic attack when Satele mentions Zho to him elsewhere in the book. Given this, I think it is an entirely reasonable conclusion, even ignoring the fact that he is baby-stealing Jedi georg, the only Jedi known to have actually stolen a baby, that he mistreated Satele, too.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

At any rate - Ngani Zho coerced Satele into giving him custody of Theron. Theron does not know this, and assumes Satele chose freely to gave him up.

We can't know what her decision would have been, because she didn't truly get to make one. She may have chosen to give Theron up. She may not have. But as it was, as it happened, she did not have a genuine choice.

TL;DR: Tie-in material makes it quite clear that Ngani Zho, the "Master Zho" in one of Theron's combat lines, coerced Satele into giving the infant Theron into his custody. This was terrible for everyone involved, except Zho.

[autisticrosewilson]

thoughts on tanya and her relationship with deathstroke and the family? also any hc's ? 👁️

I think her relationship differs from the others by virtue of her being an adult when she meets him, she's a not a starry eyed/traumatized teenager looking for a family. She's still after a support system though, a team to be on after she leaves the Titans, an older mentor to help her better herself. So it's not quite a father daughter relationship, but she does probably admire Slades skill and she is willing to be vulnerable with him.

That doesn't mean she'll take his shit though, she questions his orders routinely, she refuses to be demoted to a sidekick. Just because she's a student doesn't mean she's subservient, it's something that definitely caused friction in the early days of defiance where she strained against his leadership in a way he wasn't used to. A grown woman forcing him to see her as an equal while he trains her is very different from impulsive teenagers disobeying orders and he's not entirely sure how to deal with it at first.

But if there's one thing about Slade it's that the more someone fights him, the more fond he is. Once they've worked together for a while things settle down, they learn to read each other better and trust gets built up. I think that Slade would consider her one of his kids, but Tanya sees him as like, the uncle she lived with in college y'know. He's not exactly happy about it but it's not like he's in any position to push. Compared to his actual children he has a pretty good relationship with Tanya which really solidifies his idea that it's some family curse or genetic disposition for sucking as a parent as opposed to like, generational trauma he should do something about.

I think she has a complicated relationship with the family. She doesn't really consider herself a part of it the way the rest are, but she does see some of the Wilson kids as siblings because it's hard to be on a team with people, fighting together, living together, seeing fucked up shit together without getting close.

I think she gets along best with Joey, he grew up in a lot of the same social circles and he also understands a lot of the belittlement she gets.

It's because of her camaraderie with Joey that she's not really fond of Adeline, being someone who also grew up mostly relying on her mom the radioactive relationship between the Kane-Wilson's is something she doesn't want anything to do with. Suffice to say that while she respects Adeline as a business woman she will not be accompanying Joey to any family parties or reunions.

Following that she's got the kind of "older sisters that always competed growing up but are also closer to each other than either of you are with your younger siblings by virtue of being closest in age" relationship with Sunny you either get or you don't. Very specific but I think they are fond of each other even though they fight constantly. Most of the time they're not even trying to fight, Slade will tell them to quit bickering and they'll look at each other in bewilderment because they were having a normal conversation.

I don't think her and Rose are close, I feel like Tanya just relates more to other people in Rose's life just because of the age difference. To Tanya, Rose will always be "Joey's little sister" or "Dick's teammate". That doesn't mean that Tanya doesn't care about her though, they still know how to work together and I think Rose has maybe asked her for advice more than once. Whether it be on stupid socialite etiquette, how to shut Slade up or even grieving with the loss of her mom. It's like having a younger sister you don't live with, and you two were never the closest but sometimes you come home to her in your new apartment because she needs to complain about your dad and a candle she saw at the check out reminded her of you, so she brought a house warming gift even though you moved in two months ago.

Now the relationship between her and Poppy is complicated because of their relationships to Tara. On one hand she doesn't want to step on Tara's toes by taking over too much with Poppy, but she also doesn't want to leave either of them hanging since neither of them really have anyone besides Slade. On the other hand Tanya sometimes worries that Poppy is after more of a mother figure than another sister, and she doesn't feel ready for that. So it's a balancing act between being supportive enough to bond with her without getting close enough to intrude on Tara's role or give Poppy the wrong impression.

Her relationship with Tara has the aforementioned issue and... Tanya is kind of freaked out by her. Like everything about Tara and her relationships to Slade, Rose and Poppy just really makes her sad but she also doesn't want to involve herself in all that crazy. Also Tara has A Thing for Beast Boy (It's not a crush in my rewrite, more of a hero worship thing for the person who broke up the Dark Side Club) who Tanya considers her best friend and it's really weird for her to hear and talk about.

I don't really see her liking Grant if he were alive, she would think him working specifically to piss off Slade is funny until it coincides with her own jobs. Mostly that's yet another complicated inner family dynamic she doesn't want to get close to. She's mildly fascinated by him the way a child's fascinated by a bug under a microscope, she's really curious to find out what being Slade and Adeline's least favorite kid does to a person. Their civilian personas have fake Twitter beef (she thinks it's a joke but he's very serious about it) though.

She sent Slade a card with a condom inside saying "put the dick down" when she found out about Respawn. (She doesn't know he's Grant's clone yet.)

[piscespixiewastaken]

So, from the WIP game, can I please ask for more info about 'dragon princess?'

AHHHHH, MY BABY NOVEL!!!

Okay, I’m going to try not to rant about this one, but this one is literally my baby. I started it at 13 (over 15 years ago), and it just keeps getting revamped because I’m trying so hard to get it right. The closest I got was a 50k word document that I put on an external hard drive, locked, and forgot the password for it. 😭 (I’ve never fully forgiven myself for that).

Anyways, Dragon Princess. Basic premise is we follow a princess as her kingdom is being overrun by monsters. Her father (an abusive, greedy, gluttonous king) doesn’t give a damn, thinks the whole thing is a ploy by his nobles to get more funds or thinks it’s all a hoax. The princess doesn’t agree with her father, and at some point takes the only female knight on the king’s council and several of her underlings on a journey to find a way to drive the monsters from her home. In some way, she either transforms into a dragon or find relation to dragons that assist in defeating the evil that is invading her home.

The original story was much simpler, her lover gets banished to be eaten by a monster, and she discovers she can transform into a dragon and defeats the monster and saves her lover (her father dies as he’d become a puppet to this creature).

The second iteration (the one I lost) had the princess’s home being invaded by ghoulish creatures and she travels to a neighboring land to find the solution to beating the creatures. She discovers her heritage as a shapeshifter and transforms into a dragon to destroy the ghouls.

The third iteration is similar, but starts with a competition of suitors for the princess’s heart. She takes two of them with here when the competition has to be put on hold due to the monster attacks, and the princess isn’t about to sit around and wait for death. She finds a dragon-shaped artifact that helps her drive the monsters from her home. The artifact is based off another legend of a woman who could transform into a dragon.

I’m at the point where I’m probably going to combine several ideas together, and pick what I like from each plotline to finish. Some constants are the princess is always well trained in swordsmanship and/or firearms, and she’s always stubborn. The king is always an antagonist, always forcing his authority on the princess or trying to. The lady knight is always a strong, graceful presence for the princess. Aaaand the princess’s birth mother is always dead, and there’s always a step-mother who is actually very sweet and wants to get along with the princess. The princess, despite her step-mother’s best efforts, is always wary of her step-mother.

I would list character names, but they’ve all gone through changes, and I will probably be changing them again. Suffice to say the princess and her companions are from a Nordic-Germanic-adjacent nation, and she has to travel to a Turkish-adjacent nation to find support to destroy the creatures.

There’s a lot of worldbuilding I need to work on, but I just love to brainstorm about this one. It truly is my baby, and I really hope I can get it to a point where I can properly finish it.

Thank you so much for asking me about this one!!! :D

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Wow, really didn't expect that angel post to gain as much traction as it did! Y'all really like what I've got to say, huh?

Well in response to all of your much-appreciated support, here's some more lore, starting off with the three distinct subclasses of sentient beings: The Fae, The Terrestrial, and The Cosmic.

The easiest way to distinguish between these groups is in the level of soul/body connection, and the presence of magical energies as a naturally occuring byproduct of that body. First, the Fae, which includes not only fairies elves and goblins, but also centaurs, mermaids, & vampires. In these beings, the mind body and soul are completely separate, closed systems, with the mind being logical hardwired code informing chemical processes* and the soul in its fixed state acting to facilitate exhanges between external energy and the physical form. Again in contrast to the popular mythos, Fae actually produce no magical energies of their own, but are constantly taking in and channeling the output of their surroundings, often to great effect (for example, traditional Vampiric songcasting). How this soul setup relates to afterlives is somewhat difficult to understand for non-fae, but suffice to say that changing the body doesn't necessarily affect the mind.

Next up we have the Terrestrials, the group which humans and most varieties of beastmen belong to. This is the happy medium, with a mind & soul so interlinked as to basically be the same thing, and that interlink causing production of energies which then flow into and are processed by the body. Normally this is just used to keep things running, but with proper training and the right tools one's energies can be safely concentrated and channeled to useful effect (similar tools are used by fae casters in many cases, but there they act as the vital ignition key rather than the unjumbling & translating methods of Terrestrial ports.)

And finally, Cosmics. The one which I'm sure you've been dying to hear me speak about. Gods, angels, demons, and a questionable level of the Voidlings (we'll get to them later). If Fae are mostly grounded physicality with little to no magic in them, a Cosmic is the complete opposite. Roughly 80-100% of a Cosmic's body is made of raw magical energy- we're all soul & mind. That doesn't mean we can't have a grounded body though, although for some the process may easier than others. Gods such as myself project a portion of our energies into hard-light pseudo-physical bodies, whereas angels & demons "lock" their entire selves into walking, talking forms. These can come in many types° though a characteristic indication of the Angel is their "halo", an aura of barely contained energies. Be very careful around the presence of angels, or any Cosmic unlocking and focusing their magic, as they are essentially extremely radioactive during that phase. Also, for those wondering, chief among the reasons a Cosmic strives for order are A. being designed that way by and for the purposes of one's Host, and B. the spastic chaotic nature of being a thing which on some levels is fundamentally incompatible with reality makes a need for structure in all other forms absolutely necessary and desirable. Again, demons typically have this managed a lot better, but even they're sort of just to the left of being allowed to exist.

Right, that's all I have for now! This was quite exhausting to type up in ways that Terrestrial minds might understand, but hopefully I've succeeded! Stay tuned for more when I have the "energy"!

*this is in no way an indication that mental plasticity is nonexistent for Fae. It just requires a lot more effort and programming knowledge.

°they're also, anatomically speaking, complete bullshit. Gonna have fun explaining that one in a way that makes sense.

[rafent]

if it was up to her, she wouldn't be doing this. and— well, she guesses it is up to her. but — he'd died, hadn't he? or as much as the training simulation killed someone, anyway. in a way, she did wonder how that worked; from her own experience, it was as real as real could be . . . but then she was awake again for the next round, launched straight into battle.

thinking about it, she realizes it's not any different from those missions . . . like waking up from a bad dream into a worse one.

"professor rafal!"

she greets him from a short distance, ringing off the nearby building's stone walls. at a jog, she tries to catch up before he vanishes. who knows if he'd want to talk to her at all, and she expects she'll only win some more rebuke in return unless he proved less volatile outside of stressful situations.

whatever the case though, her guardian and the model of her father had taught her proper manners. of all of them, he'd had the toughest time. "it's me, caeldori. i wanted to ask if you were all right." a glance shows nothing wrong — not that there would be, but looking anyway feels second nature. "thank you for all your support in the arena training back there. really, i don't think i would've reached my full potential without you."

A pale ghost rendered not by death or its finality but the elusive act of departure, Rafal left his allies with nary a word. His role in the simulation had finished and so too had the fleeting connections forged during its life. Felled in combat only to be awoken and restored in the same breath, going from captured to dancing to dying, the outlandish string of experiences might have even conveyed as a mere dream. . .if not for the girl who confirmed them to be reality with her very presence.

'Professor Rafal!'

Caeldori's earnest voice by now invoked some familiarity. At her call, long strides fell shorter then petered out to a halt, though he did not yet honor the approaching student with a turn. "I was struck down, and yet continue to stand before you as the picture of health. Such an answer ought to suffice."

His response echoed without warmth, a cold matter-of-fact tone fit to deck the cobble walls like a drapery. Nevertheless, her mannerly approach and provision of thanks were not as invisible to him as such a fact made seem. He considered the overture and succeeding a long pause the forbidding angles of his posture loosened on a sigh. At last his body swiveled around to acknowledge her properly.

Humans had a curious if not delusional way of bringing matters and misconceptions onto themselves, even if the Fell Heir was not quite perfectly honest himself. Rafal had no desire for gratitude, he had not done it for her, these things remained wholly true; and yet nor would he have wished to see her fall. Whereas his intentions could be debated, the consideration of one's 'full potential' was a secure and ever timeless one. His eyes trained upon her, allotting a quiet thoughtfulness to the stare.

"You come with gratitude, but if you truly seek to repay my support, then do so with strength." That was all that needed saying, as much an answer to her thanks as the implicit extension of his. Vivid yet unseen, his memory flickered to the young woman's recent parry in his defense. What else could measure equally to gratitude than unfailing advice? To become so strong that others were not needed - stronger and better than anyone. That would prove her succor better than Rafal ever could.

". . .become so strong that there is no need for aid, Caeldori."

With that, his feet pointed away to resume his path. Rafal, of course, intended on doing the same.

[lonita]

Hey, ableds. Leave those PWD alone

It's Disability Pride Month. I was wondering what to say about it, or even if I'd say anything at all. But yesterday a straw broke my camel's back - so here we are.

There are a lot of people on provincial disability support programs in Canada. That support is woefully inadequate, leaving recipients between 40 and 50% below the poverty line. No one lives in poverty because they want to. The complexities of poverty are many, and more than I can conveniently cover herein. Suffice it to say, it's not the simple black and white situation that many think it is. Nor is it a simple to solve solution. Throwing disability into the mix complicates the situation exponentially in ways that abled people cannot comprehend, and most of the time don't even try to.

For many disabled people, online spaces are their only community. Because of proximity, finances, accessibility, and more. So, this is where they congregate. This is where they share their experiences, spread awareness, seek support, look for aid, or just shoot their message into the void to see what happens as so many people online do.

But you know how people are.

The agility that the slavering bully displays in leaping on the opportunity to deride a disabled person on assistance is mind-blowing. They do it so wantonly, so willingly. As if they think they're the first person in the world to tell someone on assistance that they're a bum, that they're lazy, that they're scammers, that they can do better if they really wanted to, that it's easy to find work, that they're worthless, that people are sick of giving them "handouts", that they're just self-pitying, that they're just weak, that they should just die.

The increase of it does nothing more than to give even more people more license to abuse even more people, to kick even more struggling people when they're already down. Somewhere they got the idea that they think they have a right to abuse others.

The biggest stumbling block in understanding is that an abled person thinks in terms of ability. They don't have to think about navigating life the way that many disabled people do. They think their simple solutions are solutions that will work for everyone. Or that a solution that works for one disability will work for every other. Even some disabled people think that way. They think if they can succeed, that everyone can. It's not true, of course. It's not possible. That aside, the utter lack of empathy on top of the utter lack of practical understanding, is astounding.

Needs of accessibility, accommodation, transit, preparation, training, education, and personal needs, are a far different thing for many disabled people than they are for the average abled person. In the digital age, some of this is easier to manage. But when I was in school there were no personal computers or internet. I couldn't read the chalkboards in my grade or high school classrooms. We did work out some accommodations, but sometimes those things isolate a person. Flexibility is another one. Some conditions don't allow for a person to work a reguarl 9-5 job - and there's precious little flexibility provided in the average workplace, if any at all, and not nearly enough availability for gig work or task work that would suit an unpredictable condition. Lots of disabled people could work, want to work, but there's no work for them. Disabled people don't live a life of being able to just go out the door each day and do whatever they want whenever they want to.

To sum it up. If you see a person talking about inadequate supports, and your first urge is to crap on them, don't. Just don't. They've heard it before, a million times. You aren't the first, and won't be the last. But you don't have to contribute to a harmful noise that does nothing but hurt people. You don't need to be a bully, to be cruel. If you're angry, talk to the people who make laws. Not the people who might be eating one bad meal a day from the food bank.

[ladyalmathea]

How To Train Your Dragon: Defying The Elements

(A HTTYD fanfic with new OCs, familial drama, and juicy secrets. Enjoy!)

Chapter 3: "First Day of Training"

The next morning, the group of teens were all gathered at the training grounds as Gobber raises a massive iron gate at the entrance of a vast stone arena. "Welcome to dragon training!" The recruits file through the gate and out onto the arena floor as they take it in like gladiators entering the Colosseum. The walls are covered in scorched silhouettes of blasted Vikings, so suffice it to say, it's a grim yet awe-inspiring place. "No turning back." Astrid reminded them, taking the lead as the others followed behind her. "I hope I get some serious burns." Tuffnut told his twin as his sister scoffs. "I'm hoping for some mauling, like on my shoulder or lower back." "Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it." Astrid rolls her eyes, figuring that they'd be the last people to take this training seriously, as Hiccup's voice is soon heard overhead. "Yeah, no kidding, right? Pain. Love it." Surprised, the recruits turn to see Hiccup behind them, along with Fen and Dahlia, and immediately, many a groans are shared all around. "Oh great. Who let them in?" Tuffnut questions as Gobber ignores it and continues with the lesson. "Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village." He reminds the group as Snotlout smirks mockingly at his cousin next to him. "Hiccup already killed a Night Fury, so does that disqualify him or...?" The recruits laugh and chatter in the background as a result. WHAM! Snotlout took a small rock to the back of his head, but as he spun around, ready to tell at who threw it, none of the three misfits seemed to have done so. Gobber, however, saw Fen through the rock, but didn't say a word, knowing it was pointless to do so. "Can I transfer to the class with the cool Vikings?" Tuffnut asked as Gobber throws a supportive arm around Hiccup, ushering him along as Fen and Dahlia followed. "Don't worry. You're small and you're weak. That'll make you less of a target. They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead." The blond viking encouraged him as Gobber sticks Hiccup and the other two in line with the other teens and continues on toward five massive reinforced doors.

Terrible roars and bellows issue from within, startling the teens a bit as Gobbe chuckled at their shared reactions. "Behind these doors, kids, are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight." Hearing this, Fishlegs bounces and giggles with excitement, barely able to contain himself as Gobber continued. "The Deadly Nadder." "Speed eight. Armor sixteen." The largest teen murmurs under his breath, adding to what Gobber was telling them. "The Hideous Zippleback." "Plus eleven stealth. Times two." "The Monstrous Nightmare." "Firepower fifteen." "The Terrible Terror." "Attack eight. Venom twelve." "Can you stop that already?!" Gobber snaps, making Fishlegs immediately be silenced before the blacksmith continued. "And... the Gronckle." "Jaw strength, eight." Fishlegs uttered quietly to himself when Gobber pulls a lever, raising the cross beam on the last of the doors. "Aren't you gonna teach us first!?" Dahlia exclaimed, taken aback along with the others, as Gobber chuckled. "I believe in learning on the job." BAM! A Gronkle thunders out of its cave, charging into the ring like an irate rhino. The recruits scramble in every direction, except for Ruffnut and Tuffnut, who rush toward it like a pair of pumped-up rodeo clowns. "Today is about survival. If you get blasted, you're dead. Quick, what's the first thing you're going to need?" Gobber questions them as the teens ran around the arena. "A doctor?" Hiccups quipped semi-sarcastically as Fishlegs was shaking a bit with nerves. "Plus five speed?" "A shield!" Astrid answers correctly as Gobber nodded. "Shields, go!" The recruits scramble for shields, finding them scattered around the ring. "Your most important piece of equipment is your shield. If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take the shield." Thinking fast on his feet, Fen rushed over to a couple shields, quickly kicking the twins away before yelling for Dahlia. "Dahlia! Over here!" His eyes then widened and he jumped out of the way of the next Gronckle shot, and rather than it hitting him, or either of the shields he had, it hit the twins.

"Fen!" Dahlia called back, managing to make it over to him as he handed her a shield, the one with the flower that the twins didn't want. "Tuffnut, Ruffnut, you're out!" Gobber call out. "What?!" The twins asked in dazed confusion as the Gronckle scoops up a pile of rocks and swallows them back while the teens gather on the far side of the ring. "Those shields are good for another thing: Noise. Make lots of it to throw off a dragon's aim." Following his info, the teens scoop up weapons and begin hammering on their shields, causing the Gronckle to shake its head at the clatter. From the Gronkle's perspective, the teens targets become blurry and scrambled as their tactic seems to be working. "All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?" Gobber quizzed them as they kept going. "Five!" Snotlout guessed as Fishlegs shook his head. "No, six." He corrects as Gobber nods. "Correct, six. That means not all of you will get too scuffed!" "I really don't think my parents WOULD-" BAM! As he rambled, Fishlegs has his shield blasted away. "Fishlegs, out." Gobber then spots Hiccup hiding from the Gronckle's molten slugs. "Hiccup, get in there!" He instructs him as Astrid, bouncing on her heels, gets ready to dodge a blast. Fen's eyes narrowed before he jumped, tucked, and rolled out of the way of one of the blasts then he ran and pulled Dahlia out of the way, then, with one shot left, the Gronkle went after Hiccup. "Hiccup!" Dahlia called out as the Gronckle drives straight toward Hiccup, pinning him against the wall. It opens its mouth and cocks its tail, ready to fire point-blank, when Gobber lunges in and hooks the Gronckle's mouth at the last second, causing its head to jerk back and fire against the stone wall above Hiccup's head. "And that's six!" Gobber said, rattled, but masking it as Gobber wrestles the irate Gronckle back into his pen. "Go back to bed, ya overgrown sausage! You'll get another chance, don't you worry." Slam! Lock. Gobber then turns to the recruits, who were shaken up by the near death experience.

"Remember... a dragon will always, always go for the kill." He told them, turning with a stern look to Hiccup before he hoists Hiccup to his feet and walks off. As the others walk off toward the entrance, Hiccup looks overhead to see a steaming pit in the solid stone wall, a remnant of what had just occurred. Fen, meanwhile, sighed as he and Dahlia went up to make sure Hiccup was alright as the rest of the teens left the arena, most laughing about Hiccup's near death experience. "I can't believe them. How can they be so calm about what just happened? Hiccup could've died right here today, and none of them even care!" Dahlia clenched her fists in anger, her eyes flashing blue as small sparks of electricity flickered around her hands. "They're all caught in their own heads, De. It's a good thing Gobber was paying attention." Fen said before asking, "You guys wanna go for a walk? I know where to find some herbs to take care of burns." "Please. I need to cool my head off." Dahlia sighed, taking a sec to calm herself down as she was soon back to normal. "Yeah... I could honestly use a break." Hiccup nodded as he and Dahlia followed Fen out of the arena. Not long after they were back in the forest, Fen and Dahlia were doing their own thing nearby while Hiccup was studying the remnants of the discarded bola at the scene of their last encounter with the Night Fury. He then remembers what Gobber had said back in the arena, but something about it just didn't sit well with him. "So... why didn't you?" He mutters as he drops the bola and pressed on in the direction it flew off. Meanwhile, Fen was finishing collecting the herbs he needed while Dahlia was busy, trying to see how her newfound powers worked. However, unlike before, she could only muster up small sparks in the palm of her hand. "Damn... This is harder than it looks like. How in the world did I managed to activate it before?" "You were trying to keep me from getting too hurt by the Night Fury." Fen said as he walked up with a bag full of herbs. "Stress can bring out things we didn't know we could do."

"True... Still, though... I wonder if I can learn how to manifest it without relying on just intense emotions." Dahlia sighed, deciding to put that idea aside for the time being, as she then noticed that Hiccup was gone. "Wait. Where's Hiccup? He was here not too long ago." As the pair went to look for him, Hiccup was deep in thought, not just of finding the Night Fury, but of also of what he'd seen yesterday with Fen. 'Is Fen really part-dragon, or was I just imagining things?' "I still can't figure out if what I saw was real or just a figment of my imagination. Maybe... I was just seeing. Yeah... That's gotta be it..." He tried to convince himself, but the picture didn't exactly seem as simple as that. While he continued to puzzle over it, he's suddenly dropped into a rocky crevice, causing to fall forward slightly before he follows it to an... isolated cove, complete with a pristine spring pool. "Well, this was stupid." He grumbles, scanning the high stone walls... then, he notices a single black scale on the ground. He crouches and picks them up, studying it before he soon recognizing what they were from. Suddenly, the Night Fury blasts past him as Hiccup recoils, watching the massive beast struggle to climb the walls. It flaps violently, then peels away to a rough landing, making it clear that the dragon was trapped. Hiccup grins, excited to see it again, and slips closer. He watches as the dragon, exhausted and frustrated, leaps into the air, beating its wings furiously. Again and again, it rolls uncontrolled and crashes heavily. Thinking quickly, Hiccup pulls a leather-bound journal and flips past drawings of weapons to a blank page as he sketches the dragon quickly, desperate to record the image. While he drew, the Fury claws at the steep rock walls, trying climb out of the cove before it slips and falls hard, crushing several saplings beneath it as the Fury rolls back to his feet and slowly crawls to the water's edge. He spots fish in the shallow water and snaps at them... but comes up empty. He lowers his head, looking weakened, which was something the viking boy quickly picked up on. "Why don't you just... fly away?" He muttered as he peered closer, where he soon spots the problem as he adjusts his drawing, carefully erasing one half of the dragon's tail. "Hiccup?!" Fen called before spotting the teen. When he did, Fen moved to stand next Hiccup, crouching down as he did Dahlia sat next to Fen as she looked in the direction of the cove, curious as to how the black dragon had managed to wind up there, but in his daze, Hiccup accidentally drops the charcoal stick, wincing as it rolls off of the rock outcropping that hides him from view and bounces into the cove. Hearing it, the Night Fury raises his head, spotting the trio, but keeping his gaze specifically on Hiccup.

They exchange a profound, unflinching stare for a moment, but the moment the night fury blinked, Hiccup ran out of there like there was no tomorrow. "Hiccup, wait for us!" Dahlia called out as she got up and ran after him, quickly being followed by Fen, who glanced back at the night fury below before he followed after his two friends...

That night, a huge storm was brewing outside, with the great doors of the Grand Hall rattling on their hinges. Thankfully, it was much warmer inside as Gobber was instructing. "Alright. Now, where did Astrid go wrong in the ring today?" He asked the group as the recruits are seated at a table, eating dinner by the glow of the fire pit, as Astrid answers first. "I mistimed my somersault dive. It was sloppy. It threw off my reverse tumble." She spoke sternly as a few eye rolls could be clearly seen from the group. "Yeah. We noticed." Ruffnut grumbled as Snotlout shook his head, grabbing Astrid's hand. "No, no, you were great. That was so 'Astrid'." "She's right, you have to be tough on yourselves." Gobber tells them as Astrid gives Snotlout a stern look, making him immediately pull his hand away, before they heard a loud creak. All eyes turn to see Hiccup, Fen, and Dahlia entering the hall sheepishly, all three of them wet from the rain outside as Gobber gave them all a deadpanned look. "Ok, class, let's try it with Hiccup. Where did he go wrong?" He asked them as the trio try to take a seat at the table... but the recruits keep closing the gaps. "He showed up." Ruffnut scoffed as Tuffnut snickers. "He didn't get eaten..." Rolling his eyes, Hiccup sits at the vacant table next to them, with Fen and Dahlia joining him. "He's never where he should be." Astrid hissed, giving him a small glare. "He's not the only one..." Snotlout muttered, taking a glance over at the other table as he, for perhaps the first time, noticed just how pretty Dahlia actually seemed to be, especially with how her appearance, still wet from being out in the rain, made her look alluring under the warm light of the fire place. As he continue to stare in her direction, a "bright idea" suddenly came to mind as a smirk grew on his lips. While the others continued to talk, he got up from his spot and walked over to the misfit's table, boldly taking the empty seat next to the dark haired girl, who looked at him in confusion before he spoke. "Hey, uh... Dahlia... why don't you come and warm up to me? After all, a pretty flower like you should be the arms of a great warrior." He said in what he thought was a charming tone, flexing his so-called "muscles" for her as she recoils subtly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her disinterest as she tries to ignore him.

Seeing this, Fen suddenly felt a twinge of a strange feeling he'd never felt before as he moved slightly closer to Dahlia while trying to hide his anger as much as possible. Then, he got an idea as he looked at the girl in question. "Hey, Dahlia, how's your leg after the tumble you took earlier?" Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dahlia quickly turned her attention to Fen. Upon hearing his question, she quickly put two and two together, anything to avoid having a further conversation with Snotlout of all people. "Uh.. O-Oh! Oh yes, my leg... Oooh, it's been feeling a little sore.. I should probably go home and let it rest for a while... Would you be a dear and help me, Fen?" She asked, trying her best to fake her "injury" as Snotlout didn't seem to get the hit. "Tch, please. Fen can't even put up a good fight, let alone be able to have the strength to help a hottie like you, Dahlia. I, on the other hand, can easily carry you home without breaking a sweat. Come on, you know you want to~" He grinned, again sending an unpleasant shiver down the poor girl's back at the very idea. "Of course I can, Dahlia." Fen cut him off as he shot a glare at Snotlout, all the while feeling a strange surge of what he was understanding to be protective jealousy. He then carefully scooped up Dahlia, then said, "I may not be best in a fight, but need I remind you who's been singlehandedly keeping the village healthy?" His eyes shifted slightly, sending a chill down Snotlout's spine, but no one else saw the change. With that, Fen left the great hall, carrying Dahlia like she weighed nothing, as Dahlia held on tightly while whispering a quiet "thank you" to him, trying her hardest to ignore the burning blush on her cheeks as he carried her home. As he did, she failed to notice that he was a bit flustered as well, though he did his best not to show it as well...

Back at the grand hall, Gobber got back to teaching the class. "Well... Back to business. When it comes dragon training, you need to live and breathe this stuff." Gobber then lays a giant book in the center of the table with a red dragon symbol drawn on the cover. "The dragon manual. Everything we know about every dragon we know of." A rumble of thunder shakes the hall as rain pours down outside while Gobber took note of this before he continued. "No attacks tonight. Study up." He then exits into the storm, leaving the teens staring at the book. "You've got to be kidding." Ruffnut grimaced at the idea with her twin brother in agreement. "Wait, you mean read?" Tuffnut questions aloud as Ruffnut nodded. "While we're still alive?" "Why read words when you can just kill the stuff the words tell you stuff about?" Snotlout scoffed, not at all interested in doing such a thing, as Fishlegs couldn't look happier. "Oh! I've read it like, seven times. There's this water dragon that sprays boiling water at your face. And there's this other one that buries itself for like a week..." While he began to ramble, the other teens stare as Fishlegs goes on for too long before cutting him off. "Yeah, that sounds great. There was a chance I was going to read that..." Tuffnut began as he got up. "...but now..." Ruffnut continued, getting up as well as Snotlout gets up to go. "You guys read, I'll go kill stuff." The twins follow him, with Fishlegs in tow as he kept going on about dragon facts. Soon enough, Astrid is the last to go as Hiccup became a bit bashful of her presence. "So.... I guess we'll share-" "Read it." She unceremoniously pushes it toward him and leaves, leaving the lanky lad all alone at the table. "All mine then. Wow, so okay. I'll see you-" As he talked, a loud slam shut him up for a second before he sighed. "Tomorrow."

After an hour or so, the Great Hall was soon empty, with only the lonely candles of Hiccup being the sole source of light in the room as he flipped through the pages of the massive book while thunder booms outside. The hall is vacant and dark, but for the few candles he's pulled together. Hiccup pours through page after page of strange and frightening dragons. "Dragon classifications. Strike class, Fear class, Mystery class..." Hiccup turns the page. "Thunderdrum: This reclusive dragon inhabits sea caves and dark tide pools. When startled, the Thunderdrum produces a concussive sound that can kill a man at close range. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight." Hiccup's eyes drift to a lurid illustration of decapitated Vikings. Another page, another dragon. "Timberjack: This gigantic creature has razor sharp wings that can slice through full grown trees... Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight." As he continued, the illustrations seem to take on a life of their own, shifting and squirming in the candlelight. "Scauldron: Sprays scalding water at its victim. Extremely dangerous." The storm outside rages against the shuttered windows, and though Hiccup is startled, he presses on. "Changewing: Even newly hatched dragons can spray acid. Kill on sight." He begins flipping through the pages, creating a blur of dragons... "Gronckle... Zippleback... The Skrill... Bone Knapper... Whispering Death... Burns its victims. Buries its victims. Chokes its victims. Turns its victims inside-out. Extremely dangerous. Extremely dangerous. Kill on sight. Kill on sight. Kill on sight..." Hiccup finally lands upon the page he's been looking for. "Night Fury." Much to his disappoint though, it's blank -- no drawings, no image, save for a few, sparse details. "Speed unknown. Size unknown. The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance? Hide and pray it does not find you." Hiccup then pulls his sketchbook out of his vest and opens it to his drawing of Toothless. He lays it over the book's blank page and considers it as we close in on the drawing of Toothless... 

Which soon resembles a painted dragon with a sword run through it, revealing itself to be the billowing sail of Stoick's ship. Stoick hovers over the familiar nautical map -- his eyes on the uncharted corner, swirling in mist and illustrations of dragons. "I can almost smell them. They're close. Steady." Stoick raises his gaze to... an epic fog bank, towering from sky to sea like a bruised, daunting curtain, beyond which nothing is visible. The three ships soon drift alongside it, skirting its solid edge, looking for an opening. On the deck, the crewmen mill nervously, all too aware of what Stoick is considering. "Take us in." The helmsman steers Stoick's ship into the fog as the men draw their weapons, prepping for the worst. "Hard to port... for Helheim's gate." The first ship disappears into the whiteout, followed by the other two. Suddenly, a flash of light appears, followed by a silhouette of a dragon, along with hollers and the sounds of splitting and shattering wood. It then plunges into the water before the appearance of another bright flash came...

[nikhilvaidya27]

Top 5 Strategies to Recruit for Potential, Not Experience

By Nikhil Vaidya, Prism HRC Founder

In recruitment, the discussion always tends to gravitate toward experienced candidates. It's a familiar route for HR leaders: Experience says a lot, it's simple to evaluate, and most importantly, it provides security. But here's the reality we must face: Experience is no longer the sole or even optimal predictor of success in today's rapidly changing corporate landscape. Relying solely on experience can restrict your talent pool, inhibit innovation, and impede long-term development.

At Prism HRC, we think that hiring for potential, not experience, can be the secret to unlocking your organization's real competitive edge. Here's how you can change your hiring approach to focus on potential, bringing in candidates who are not only a good fit for today, but also for tomorrow.

1. Redefine What 'Experience' Really Means

Experience does not have to be quantified by the amount of time spent in a particular job or field. Rather, look for transferable skills—problem-solving skills, flexibility, creativity, and emotional intelligence. When scanning resumes, I urge leaders to seek out candidates who have shown leadership, initiative, or creative solutions to problems, even if they do not have a particular job title. The secret is to assess what they have learned and how they have developed from past experiences.

By focusing on potential rather than a strict experience checklist, you expand your talent pool to a wider group of candidates who can bring new ideas to your organization.

2. Ask the Right Questions in Interviews

The interview itself is key to determining a candidate's potential. Instead of using questions that only test technical capabilities or past performance, use behavioral questions that expose how candidates think about problems, learn from failures, and cope with new challenges. For instance:

"Describe a situation when you needed to learn something new in a short time. How did you tackle it?"

"Tell us about a time when you turned a failure into an opportunity for learning."

"Given the context of this job, what you would do within the first 90 days and how you would make an impact?"

These questions enable you to assess a candidate's capacity for growth and change, which is critical in order to hire based on potential. 

3. Assess Cultural Fit and Values Alignment

Experience matters, but it won't suffice if the candidate is not a good fit for your company's values. Potential-based hiring involves finding people who are a good cultural fit for your company, who can adjust to the team, and who will flourish under an innovation-stimulating environment. Interview questions that probe for their values and work ethic:

"What kind of working environment supports your performance?"

"How do you handle working with others?"

"What’s your motivation to succeed beyond just financial rewards?"

Candidates who align with your organizational culture and values are more likely to grow with your company and take on leadership roles in the future.

4. Leverage Assessment Tools and Skills Testing

While interviews and resumes provide snapshots of experience, application-based evaluations may assist in drawing out latent capabilities that are missed elsewhere. For instance, having technical testing, problem-solving assignments, or personality testing included during recruitment processes enable you to ascertain the mode of thinking that exists among prospects as well as determine their approach towards stress under challenge, thereby verifying if skills would apply even out there.

This is not only effective in recruiting for potential, but it also allows the candidates to have the key competencies that fit the position so that they are more versatile and trainable in the long run.

5. Invest in Continuous Development and Training

After you've made your hires based on their potential, don't stop there. To fully leverage the worth of your hires, invest in continuous development initiatives. Provide mentorship, training in professional courses, and opportunities for cross-functional work. By building a growth-supporting environment, you give your new hires the power to continually grow, which in turn drives your company's success.

Hiring for potential is not just a matter of finding raw talent—it's a matter of developing it. By giving people the right tools and resources, you can build a team that's not only competent today but also ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

Conclusion: The Future Belongs to the Adaptablity

We've witnessed at Prism HRC, firsthand, how hiring for potential allows organizations to succeed. It's about recognizing the value in candidates who don't check every box in terms of experience but do have the adaptability, learning orientation, and drive to grow into outstanding employees. By flipping your hiring priorities to potential, you position your organization for long-term success, drive innovation, and have the right people in place to navigate the future of work.

Hiring for potential isn’t just a trend—it’s the future of talent acquisition.

📲 Connect with Prism HRC🔗 Website:Prism HRC 📸 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jobssimplified/?hl=en

📲 Connect with Nikhil Vaidya🔗 LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/nikhil-vaidya-387b1a13

[mitigatingacademics]

[12.28.2024]

Work has been *a lot* lately.

I started into some of the details but could actually feel my blood pressure raising and realized it wasn't worth it.

Suffice to say that I'm in week 2 of 6-8 hour late trains, back-to-back 12 hour shifts, etc. - working almost exclusively with a trainee who, to give credit where it's due, is trying her best and actually doing well all things considered, but still leaves the person she's working with ultimately responsible for 2 jobs at the same time.

It's just too much.

On the other side of all that, though...

Excellent coworkers, be they crew, fellow agents at down-line stations, our security officers, bus drivers, and even the woman in charge of property management have all been *chef's kiss* above and beyond and kept me going.

Even the passengers, as inconvenienced as they've been, and justly frustrated, aside from the ones that are so awful they make you feel like they're sucking all remaining potential for future joy right out of your soul (I *watched* this happen to the trainee when she was verbally attacked by a woman so unreasonably aggressive that we had to call the police - other passengers in the waiting room later told us she'd been the same towards onboard staff), overwhelming MOST of our passengers, despite going through it trying to get to their holiday destinations were extremely kind and understanding that we were doing the best we could for them with what we had.

Never in my life have I been more relieved and frankly very happy to give folks their money back if they found another way to get on their way. If the 'service disruption' button was a thing that could have fallen off it probably would have. Without exaggeration, I used 4 times the ticket stock on refunds as I did on sales. I gave it all back *and* told them to call Customer Relations to tell them about their experience.

That's what we have and I used it to the full extent of its worth. The trainee even went about handing out bottles of water to the passengers that were meant for employees and I made no effort to stop her. She felt she needed to do something and I wasn't opposed, nor was I available as I was unselling the bus connection as fast as folks could order Ubers.

In the midst of this, I was blessed to spend a very nice, low key Christmas with my parents.

I got home from work Christmas Eve morning 4 hours late off a 12 hour shift to find them having remained in their matching pajamas until I could see them.

I am so grateful for all of the gifts I received this year both the incredibly useful including the books on legal writing from Mom and the Amazon gift cards from Dad and the absurd but heartening in inexplicable ways, including the 'magic' color changing Harry Potter hot chocolate complete with Hogwarts Express packaging from my favorite crew member and Hedwig Lego (among so many other things!) from fav coworker.

There's literally nothing material in the world that I want for.

Seeing the backlash against outrageous Christmas haul videos on YouTube this year, as well as the Angel Tree drama, has created for me not only gratitude for my own privilege but also a sense of gratefulness for my ability to differentiate between needs and wants and ultimately to understand what is truly important.

Unquestionably, my favorite and a completely unexpected item that I received this year was an e-mail response from Favorite Texas Judge.

I don't want to post publicly too much of the exchange that we've engaged in, except to say that any concern or regret that I've ever felt about reaching out to her either time were a product of my own anxiety and she has never failed to be anything but entirely lovely.

I don't imagine her heart is something that can be taught, but I am *so* *so* fortunate to have her take the time to show interest in and support of my legal education endeavors - even showing compassion and understanding of my trauma dumping - offering thoughts on how she gets through the days herself.

Her words of encouragement are a salve for my soul.

She even kindly asked me to let her know how I do with some upcoming decisions that will need to be made.

I am grateful beyond expression to have her light in my life. It keeps me going in ways I can't put into words.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 4

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Paring: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: mild angst, fluff, ron weasley is not our friend

Note: idk what this chapter is i just had the idea for it when i was rewatching the movie lol i do shit on Ron quite a bit in this but i just tried to stay true to reader's pov and i think this was a realistic approach?

for some reason the moment with Hermione in this has by far been my most favourite to write hopefully u enjoy it just as much

not proof read sorry for the mistakes!

Chapter 5

It was Quidditch day. You are sat next to Goyle and Pansy in the great hall.

Your lunch infront of you left untouched. Suffice it to say, you were nervous. You had been training for this game for weeks now, as a seeker of the Slytherin team naturally you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders.

The team losing or winning today would ultimately be on you.

All of that aside, you did enjoy Quidditch. You had been the Slytherin seeker for almost 6 years now and you loved the game, you also adored flying.  The sport always felt so all consuming that you found it to be the perfect escape, you wouldn't trade it for anything.

You look up from your food and you spot Ron walking down the hall towards his seat at the Gryffindor table.

The Slytherin boys next to you started yelling out names and making fun of him.

You let out a laugh, you agree he did look ridiculous. The ginger haired boy had on keeper headgear mostly worn by first years.

You grabbed a piece of bread from your plate and chucked it at him, clocking him on the side of his head. You figure it was alright, he had the dumb headgear to protect him.

"Loser!" Goyle shouts out and Ron continued to ignore him as he goes to sit down next to Ginny at the Gryffindor table.

"What the hell are you wearing!" You shout out to Ron hoping to get his attention so you could throw more insults his way, just for the hell of it.

Instead, you caught the attention of your girlfriend. Looking less than thrilled when your gaze met hers, she glares at you from across the great hall.

"Be nice." Hermione mouths to you, her eyebrows knitted, she was mad at you.

You lift your hands up as though to gesture that you surrender and will not be picking on Ron anymore. She rolls her eyes but a brief smile formed on her lips, proving that she can't be truly mad at you.

You shift your gaze and you notice Blaise had watched the entire exhange. He stares at you for a beat before looking away to continue picking at his food, he lets out a huff. After years of being friends with him you know that meant he disapproved.

You decided not to dwell on it for too long and focus on the game ahead.

---

Gryffindor was kicking your ass.

Ron had blocked almost every shot the Slytherin beater took. Morale was low. You needed to catch the snitch, you needed to win this.

How the hell did Weasley get so good at Quidditch? This was his first real game. Truthfully this angered you but you couldn't let him get inside your head.

You shifted your gaze to the bleachers for a moment, trying to spot Hermione. When you find her she is staring up at you. Her eyes had been fixed on you the entire game. She may be wearing the Gryffindor colours but she was there to support you. She wanted you to win.

"You got this." Hermione mouths to you before giving you a nod.

This gave you all the motivation you needed.

You spot the golden snitch directly ahead and you and swiftly fly your broom towards it. You extended your arm, prepared to grab the snitch.

This was it. You were going to win.

Just as you were about to wrap your hands around it, Harry flies infront of you snatching the golden ball away. He moved so quick you didn't even notice him approaching. He throws you a look and it only made you want to scream, he can be so cocky sometimes.

You felt frozen in time, unable to process what just happened.

"Harry Potter has caught the golden snitch! Gryffindor wins this match!" The commentator shouts into the microphone, his voice sounds muffled to you. It almost feels like you were having an out of body experience.

You glanced at Blaise across the pitch and his face was scrunched up in anger.

You lost.

---

"Don't beat yourself up y/n, you tried your best. It's not your fault." Pansy says, your head was resting on her shoulder. She had been trying to comfort you since the game ended.

You were in the Slytherin common room. Sat on the couch, you hadn't done anything besides stare into the fire for what felt like hours.

The loss today definitely aggravated your other concerns. Your worries about Draco, your parents. There was a general darkness looming over you that you couldn't ignore.

Nothing seemed to be going your way.

"Try telling that to Blaise. He's not speaking to me." You counter.

"You know how he gets about these things, he'll come around." Pansy reassures.

You let out a sigh, she was probably right.

"I'm going for a walk. I'll see you later." You breathe out before grabbing her hand briefly, you gave it a squeeze as a silent 'thank you'.

You just needed to be alone.

---

You found yourself at the stairwell by the Gryffindor common room, you could overhear the commotion from inside.

"Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" You hear people chanting. Jealousy coursing through you but quickly tried to suppress it.

The Gryffindors won fair and square, you were never one to be a sore loser but this felt different.

Ron always wanted to take away everything you cared about, even if he didn't realise it.

You were suddenly broken out of your thoughts when you heard a familiar voice call out to you.

"There you are. I tried looking for you after the game where did you go?" Hermione asks.

"Hey." You merely responded, not having the energy to pretend with her.

Your girlfriend sits down on the step next to you.

Hermione was unsure of what to say next, a few minutes go by before you break the silence.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating with Ron." You deadpan, more venom in your tone than you intended.

You catch Hermione wince slightly and guilt washes over you.

"Why would you ever say that." Hermione responds sounding exasperated.

"Look, I'm sorry that you lost the game today but you don't get to take it out on me." Your girlfriend says, her tone firm putting you in your place.

"You're right, I'm sorry." You glance at her apologetically before reaching out to grab her hand.

The shorter girl intertwined your fingers before moving closer to rest her head on your shoulder.

"Things are just really fucked right now. I feel like nothing is going my way." You admit and you feel tears well up in your eyes.

Hermione notices and she lifts her head off your shoulder to turn towards you, gesturing for you to do the same.

"I know things are dark right now and I can see you carrying the weight of it all on your own." Hermione states quietly, only for you to hear.

"I'm here. I want to make things easier. I want to be here for you, but you have to let me in." Hermione whispers as she puts her hand over your chest, feeling your heartbeat.

You glance down at her hand. Not saying anything in response but you are overwhelmed with affection for your girlfriend.

The most patient and understanding person you have ever met. You can't believe out of everyone in the world you are the person to have captured her heart.

You feel it is only fair you finally give yourself completely to her, as she has done so with you.

You lean in to plant a kiss on her lips, soft but passionate. An attempt to express all the love you feel for her in that moment.

Hermione's hand moves to the back of your neck, kissing you back just as deeply.

You pull away, disconnecting your lips but resting your forehead against hers.

You breathe in and you can smell her shampoo, subtle but it's there.

Feeling her close to you like this gave you the courage you needed. You decided you had to tell her about your parents threats, you need to tell her that joining the Death Eaters and pledging loyalty to the Dark Lord was inevitable for you, there was no other way.

"I have to tell you something-" You start, but you were quickly interrupted by someone giggling in the distance.

Ron and a girl you had never seen before running towards you, a look of pure bliss written all over their faces.

Envy overcomes you once again.

How simple his life must be.

Hermione removes her hand from the back of your neck as you both pull away.

"I think this place is taken." The girl whispers to Ron giggling again.

Ron ignored her as his gaze was fixed on Hermione.

"What's going on?" The ginger haired boy finally asks, glancing at the both of you.

[milkypompon]

Unexpected Company

summary: diluc’s new outfit meets pride and prejudice ch. XI

genre: diluc x reader, lisa as your supportive bff, slight nsfw, y/n down bad asf for master diluc’s new skin

wc: 1.1k+

The setting sun casted a golden glow over your face. It was a welcoming warmth as you trekked the dirt path from Mondstadt to Dawn Winery. Typically, using a waypoint was more appropriate to cover land at a quicker pace. But your companion, Miss Lisa, was a romantic at heart.

“If I didn’t love books as much as I do, I’d be an adventurer like you, my dear y/n.” Lisa tilted her head to catch your eyes.

You picked the stray sweet flower petal from her hat, earning you a hum of gratitude. “I’d hardly say running errands for the Adventurer’s Guild would grant me that title.”

Lisa let out a breathy chuckle. “Semantics.”

You let your free hand graze the smooth stone as you rounded the corner near the manor. The other was gripping a letter from the Cavalry Captain given to you earlier this morning.

Kaeya tossed a dark parchment neatly rolled. “Deliver this to Master Diluc, will you?”

“Why not submit a request at the Adventurer’s Guild?” You huffed.

“I’ll pay you under the table.” He smiled cheekily. “Your boots are a little worse for wear.”

You shoved his shoulder. “Fine, you big oaf.”

“Oh– One last thing,” Kaeya leaned into you, his minty breath tickling your nose. “These words aren’t meant for your eyes.”

Now here you were standing next to one of the most intelligent women you know. Lisa's knowledge spanned from lessons privately taught in the Sumeru Academia to your infatuation for the pyro vision-holder residing in the manor.

You fidgeted with your belt. “Go ahead and knock.”

“I’m not your maid!” Lisa stifled a laugh. “I came here as moral support for your single ass because we both know how you act in front of–”

The wooden doors groaned open.

Diluc’s fiery hair was tied up higher than usual, stray strands licking his jaw. “Welcome Miss Mince and y/n.” He brought a hand over his chest and took a reverent bow.

Your eyes savored his different choice of clothing. A welcome change. Soon drifting to the chains deliciously wrapped around his gloved fingers.

“Good afternoon, Master Ragnvindr.” You nodded in return.

A tinge of pink dusted his cheeks. “No need to call me such a title. My first name will suffice.”

An interesting reaction. Now, it was your turn to flush into all shades of red from your obscene thoughts.

Lisa replied with vigor as if reading your mind, “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate to not properly address a well-respected figure like you, Master Diluc?”

If you hadn’t known Diluc, or more so, watched him from afar at Angel’s Share as you drank with his brother and the librarian, then you’d think he was devoid of emotions.

But a fraction of a slight smirk in front of you was more than you could ask for.

“You may settle inside. I suppose you’re here regarding a commission.” He  followed behind you, pressing his hand to the curve of your back.

Gooseflesh pricked your neck as you let yourself lean into the touch as Diluc guided you near the fireplace flickering brightly. His warmth differed from the flames. It was inviting, luring you into being enveloped into his everything.

A ferocity of need singed your body. You were forced to pull away and cross your arms to subtly massage the ache of your breasts.

Lisa crossed her ankles as she settled on the plush chair and simply smiled behind the teacup Adelinde prepared.

You jutted out the hand holding the dark parchment. “A letter from the Cavalry Captain.”

Diluc grasped it and tore open the wax seal.

A secret admirer of yours is running amok in Mondstadt.

Your focus was trained on his gloves gripping the paper. Your mouth went dry at the thought of how the rough leather would feel on your skin. Or the chill of the chains grazing your thigh.

Diluc ran a hand down his contorted face before tugging on the black leather choker as if he was loosening a tie.

You swallowed thickly and leaned into the wooden table, sparse save for a few loose leaf parchment and writing utensils.

“My archons-damned brother,” He grunted and turned Kaeya’s message into blistering heat and ash before you could sneak a peek.

“W– Well, if there’s nothing else to be said, then I’d say our business is done.”

“As the recipient of the commission, I say when it’s concluded.”Diluc dusted off the ash and gripped your waist. “Sit down.”

His smooth voice did nothing short of easing your racing mind. If anything, it resurfaced the thoughts you had last night with your nimble fingers coated in saliva scouring under the blanket and between your legs to catch the arousal.

But Master Diluc wasn’t any better.

After his nightly escapades as the Darknight Hero, adrenaline would course through his veins only to land on the growing bulge that made him ache. As he palmed himself through the tight pants, he wondered how your delicate hands would struggle to wrap around his cock. Or better yet, your puffy lips— the one on your flushed face or southern bits. Either one would suffice.

You glided the back of your palm against Diluc’s chest, slightly exposed, but enough to tempt you to touch it.

Diluc pulled back a chair before his desk. “I must reply to this and you may send it to Kaeya.”

“Alright,” You breathed out.

You settled next to Lisa who had a glint in her eyes.

After a few moments of silence the librarian cried, “Oh, what poor etiquette you have to keep your guests waiting.” She stood up and stretched her back dramatically.

“Y/n, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long.”

You were surprised, but agreed to it immediately. Lisa could sense the growing anxiousness and embarrassingly enough, the throbbing need in your core. It didn’t help that you felt the familiar stickiness between your legs as you stood up.

You hooked your arm into hers and murmured, “It seems that he won’t be joining us. Even if it’s much needed after reading the letter.”

“Trust me when I say I’m level-headed enough to reply to my dear brother,” Diluc continued, “You either choose this method of passing the evening because you have secret affairs to discuss, or…”

He set down his quill and caught your eyes. “You are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking.”

You looked away and stared at your boots.

“If the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second. I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”

You gripped Lisa’s arm. “You’re quite bold, aren't you, Master Diluc?” 

[anumberofhobbies]

This is a thing & has been for ages. Here, have a reference,

by SaraKay Smullens, MSW, LCSW, CGP, CFLE, BCD (Editor's Note: This article won the 2013 NASW Media Award for best magazine article. SaraKay Smullens' book, Burnout and Self-Care in Social Work, which grew out of this article, is now available. The book's foreword is by Linda May Grobman, publisher/editor of The New Social Worker. Read an interview with SaraKay.) The training to become a social worker is arduous, demanding, and complex. My concentration was clinical social work, which during my graduate education was known as casework. I well remember studying my basic curriculum; taking more electives than were required; receiving excellent supervision of my clinical work with individuals, couples, families, and groups; and before it was required, taking many continuing education classes. Suffice it to say, I learned a great deal—but what it seemed that no one shared with me during these years, or seemed to discuss among themselves as either teachers or therapists, was the sheer exhaustion experienced in clinical work as we do our very best to meet the needs of others day after day, year after year. When one of my deeply trusted supervisors died, and I met his wife for the first time, she told me that sometimes he would return home too exhausted to even speak, and that a frequent statement she heard from a man who obviously treasured his clinical work, teaching, and writing was: “They feel better, but I surely do not.” How well I understood this feeling, I thought. How well so many in our field must understand this feeling. And yet many of us lack the attendant knowledge that can assess and direct this feeling, which is called “burnout” in the literature—or knowledge of the necessary practices to heal and soothe ourselves, which are collectively known as “self-care.” What I have learned over the years is the necessity of addressing this complicated exhaustion before the feeling of depletion leads to dysfunction and beyond. With this in mind, I share the precise information that I wish I had known about “burnout” and “self care” in the early years of my work, with references for your further study.

see also:

You aren't alone Ask for the help you need. Besides asking family and friends, use local resources for caregivers. To start, check out the national Eldercare Locator or contact your local Area Agency on Aging to learn about services in your area. Or try your state's Aging and Disability Resource Center. You can find these resources online or in a telephone directory. There also are mobile apps and web-based services that give support to caregivers. These services can help build coping skills and teach about caregiving.

Writing Notes: Compassion Fatigue

Compassion Fatigue - the burnout and stress-related symptoms experienced by caregivers and other helping professionals in reaction to working with traumatized people over an extended period of time

Can show itself in a range of symptoms and behaviors, such as:

Diminished ability or interest to care for others

Preoccupation with people you help

Mental and/or physical exhaustion

Anger and irritability

Anxiety and/or depression

Intrusive thoughts

Sleep problems

Being easily startled

Hopelessness about helping work

Flashbacks

Hypervigilance

Avoidance of certain activities, situations, or people you help

Feeling like a failure as a helper

Drops in productivity

Emotional numbness

Trouble separating personal and professional life

A decreased capacity to experience sympathy and empathy

Dysfunctional coping behaviors, e.g., misusing alcohol or drugs

Taking more time off work

Reduced decision-making ability

Feeling disconnected

Decreased satisfaction or enjoyment with work (Cocker & Joss, 2016; Clay, 2020; Stamm, 2010)

Some important factors that contribute to compassion fatigue include (Figley, 2002a):

Prolonged exposure. The feeling of responsibility for helping those in pain for a significant period of time—breaks and vacations are important to avoid this.

Traumatic recollections. Emotional memories that the client triggers for the therapist—these may reflect the therapist’s experiences of other clients who were especially difficult, demanding, or suffering greatly.

Life disruption. Any life event that disrupts your routine, schedule, or ability to manage and cope with your daily responsibilities.

Compassion fatigue is a form of stress or tension that arises from frequent contact with traumatized people, where we become preoccupied with the suffering or pain of others (Hunsaker, Chen, Maughan, & Heaston, 2015).

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs