#Tensioned Netting Solutions

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[the-boy-meets-evil]

on second thought | jww

(where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?)

pairing: wonwoo x f.reader genre: roommates/friends to fwb to?? | smut, tiny bit of angst if you squint rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni word count: 6.5k warnings: there's some plot here but it's mostly smut, multiple sex scenes (some quickly referenced), roommates who enter a fwb agreement, kissing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, use of actual lube, some scratching, after care, mentions: masturbation, kitchen sex, teasing, overstimulation, edging, i think that's it.

authors note: happy birthday to my bby @wongyuseokie! i'm thankful to have met you through nets. i hope you like some wonwoo to celebrate. thank you to @wonwussy for helping me with a title, you're a savior. this is unedited because i only started it yesterday so sorry in advance. also tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone

Another disappointing date. Another man who couldn’t even seem to let you finish a sentence. Was so intent on proving how well he could provide for you that he forgot to treat you like a person. So intent on establishing his dominance that he tried to order for you at the overpriced restaurant with too-small portions. So irritated that he paid for your dinner and drinks only for you to leave separately from him and refuse his offer to drive you home. There was no way you were letting that man know where you lived. Is it really asking too much just to have a decent date? You aren’t going to let anyone try to tell you that your standards are too high. You’re really just asking for the bare minimum. 

That’s why you’re sitting on the counter in the kitchen of your shared apartment, spilling your guts to your sympathetic roommate. His hair is messy, sticking up at odd angles in some places because he’s been playing video games for hours. Probably streaming at some point. You admire that he’s able to do something he loves to fill up most of his days. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and you try not to find it so endearing. But, you fail at that. He really is impossibly cute sometimes.

“Do you want a bite of this?” you ask instead, holding out the instant ramen you made as soon as you got home. 

“No, I ate earlier,” he answers. 

“An actual meal or a Wonwoo meal?” you challenge and he rolls his eyes.

“I ate real food. Go back to bitching about your date,” Wonwoo says. 

“I don’t know, maybe I was being too harsh,” you say. 

“He sounds like a fucking nightmare,” he disagrees. 

“Ugh, maybe I just need to redownload one of those apps,” you whine. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate fucking on the first date, but I’m so pent up that I need to release it somehow. I’m going insane.” 

This makes him laugh, at least. It releases a little bit of the tension, too. You’ve lived with Wonwoo nearly three years and were friends for years before that. Nothing is secret between the two of you. Not anymore. The first time you realized he caught you getting off in your room because you didn’t think he was home was mortifying. Even if he didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. After you got over it, things settled. And in the time since, you’ve both heard the other doing a lot of things. Some of your friends think it’s weird, but you just chalk it up to the comfort of living with someone. After all, you would tell your female friends all about your sex life. Why was that weird to share with Wonwoo? 

“Toys not doing it for you?” he throws out. You only fix him with a glare. It’s more proof that you’re entirely too comfortable.

“Our walls are thin, what do you think?” you answer. 

Wonwoo snorts a little before seeming to consider something. “Why don’t we just fuck? Get it out of your system.” 

The sip of water you’re taking when he suggests that comes bursting out of your mouth. A real life spit take. Thankfully, he’s out of the blast zone. He looks unamused at water coming out of your mouth, but he doesn’t look like he was kidding. It can be so hard to tell with him. You think that you know his face well after all these years. But, you never thought you’d hear that coming out of his mouth, so you’re not sure. 

“Please give me some indication if that was a joke or not,” you say.

“It wasn’t a joke,” he says.

“Pretty clear indicator,” you mumble. 

“Is it that crazy? You think I’m hot…” Wonwoo starts. If you were still drinking, you’d spit out your water again.

“Uh, what?” you ask.

“You think I’m hot. Hao told me,” he says as if it’s no big deal. You’re mentally running through what the appropriate payback is for this breach of trust. “It’s fine. He told me because I was saying I also think you’re hot.” 

“I mean, thanks,” you laugh, still considering how you’re going to torture Minghao. “But, we can’t have sex.” 

“Why not?” Wonwoo presses. 

“Because we’re roommates?” you ask like it’s obvious. 

“So I can hear you fuck yourself with a toy or hear you fake an orgasm with another bad date, but us fucking each other is the line?” Wonwoo asks. 

“I don’t fake that many orgasms,” you scoff to buy time.

“Yes, you do,” he argues. “I can hear the difference. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be faking it with me.” 

There’s a little bit of cockiness in the statement that shouldn’t be doing anything for you. But, it is. There’s also the very real possibility that Wonwoo does know the difference in the sounds you make. It’s not like you’ve bothered being that quiet since the first conversation where he heard you. What’s the point? The walls are pretty thin and you’re both adults. It’s not like you’re going to kick him out every time you bring a date home. And you’re definitely not going to only get off in the shower because it drives up the water bill. 

Beyond any of it, there’s also a little curiosity. Wonwoo is insanely attractive. Someone would have to be blind to miss that. He’s got that whole nerdy thing going on for him on initial inspection with the glasses and gaming. Or there’s the fact that he’s content to just hang out around the house, even with company over, wearing his pimple patches. But then, there’s this whole other side to him. It comes out when you’re both out with friends and he leaves the glasses behind. Swapping out graphic tees or hoodies for form fitting clothing and leather jackets. Casually leaning against a bar and whispering honey into some nameless, faceless stranger’s ear. 

And that leads you to the reason you’re actually curious. Sure, he’s heard you having sex with people you’ve been dating or just someone you brought home for the night. But, you’ve heard him too. If any of your orgasms sound faked, the ones he coaxes from the pretty girls in his bed sound anything but. There’s nearly always an incoherent string of praises. That thought alone has you considering his proposition. It has you shifting a little on the counter.

“Let’s pretend for a second that I’m considering this,” you start and he smiles. 

“Pretend, sure,” he echoes. 

“We’d need ground rules, right? Like we don’t want this to get awkward,” you say.

“It’s not gonna be awkward. But, we can set whatever makes you feel comfortable,” he says nonchalantly. 

A very strong, very hard to ignore voice in the back of your head argues against setting rules at all. Actually urges you to just drag him into your bedroom. Or his bedroom? Maybe you do need some ground rules. 

So, you talk. You don’t say that it’s only going to happen once because you never know what needs might pop up. The most important thing that you agree to is that nothing can change between the two of you. If either of you feels like it’s going to, then you have to talk about it because preserving the friendship is most important. It doesn’t matter what bed you have sex in as long as the other helps clean anything up. You’re not planning on this being a regular thing, so you don’t need to negotiate any kinks or anything like that. If it does become more of a thing, then you can revisit the kinks. There won’t be any weirdness about dating or talking to other people. This is just a solution between two friends that are both going through dating dry spells. 

Once the rules are set out, Wonwoo brings you into his room. Even though you’ve been in here more times than you could ever count, it feels different now. He tells you to make yourself comfortable on his bed. When he turns around to take his shirt off and toss it aside, your eyes map out his back. And, yeah, you’ve seen Wonwoo shirtless before, but never given yourself permission to so openly appreciate his body. His shoulders are impossibly wide and he’s in deceptively good shape for someone that hides under baggier clothes. 

“Should I take a picture for you?” he asks. It’s only then that you realize that he’s facing you. 

“Funny,” you say with an eye roll. 

Wonwoo crosses the space to his bed and settles next to you. The way he reaches out to pull your face into his own is so smooth. His lips are on yours before your brain has a chance to catch up. You gasp a little and pull back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Uh, didn’t we just go over this?” he asks.

“No, I mean, we’re kissing?” you ask.

“What am I supposed to do, sweetheart, just get right down to fucking you without foreplay?” he asks.

You feel a little stupid for asking that because of course you don’t want to skip the foreplay. It’s just that you don’t want to force it, either. 

“Just let me take care of you,” Wonwoo says to keep you from overthinking anything. 

It’s not something that you expected to be doing. Giving up control to Wonwoo. But, it’s surprisingly easy when he starts kissing you again. Any thoughts that this might be weird fly right out of your head as soon as he deepens the kiss. Instead, your focus is on what a good kisser he is. The way his lips mold effortlessly to yours. The way his tongue licks into your mouth. The way his hands roam your body as if they’re trying to memorize every curve. 

You’re breathless by the time Wonwoo pulls back from you to pull your shirt over your head. When you changed after the date from hell, you hadn’t considered putting anything nice on. Hadn’t bothered to keep your bra on. What was the point when you were just going to be going to bed after having something to eat? Now, you’re wondering about that decision. Because your very hot roommate is drinking in the sight of you. It’s making you a little self-conscious, the way his eyes move over your body.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he utters. 

It’s a little too intimate for you to respond to. It doesn’t seem to matter, anyway. Wonwoo starts kissing down your neck and working his way to your breasts. He spreads his kisses between them, rolling your nipple between his fingers when his mouth is on your other breast. There’s something so consuming about the way he kisses your body, like he’s worshiping you. Like this is a lot more than roommates helping each other out. 

He works his way further down your body, kissing along your stomach, stopping at the waist band to your shorts. Thankfully, he doesn’t give you the chance to overthink here either before he pulls the shorts and underwear down your legs. Tosses them off to the side for good measure. You’re totally naked in front of someone you find you do actually trust. And someone that, yeah, maybe you’ve thought about fucking before. There was no reality where you thought it would happen, though. Even if it does make a lot of sense. Every part of you truly does feel safe with him. He knows you better than most people in your life. Which clearly translates to this part of you. 

Since you’re so comfortable, you’re finding it easier to not be embarrassed at the way he’s got you squirming under the barest touch. The way he ghosts his breath across your center makes you let out a whine. It’s unfair, the way that he wants to take his time like this. It’s also unfair that he’s the first person to ever make your mind go this blank during sex. Nothing exists to you outside of this moment and this man.

Wonwoo moves back to where you need him the most, blows gently against your center. The sensation sends a shiver down your body. You barely hear him mumble out a “so pretty” before he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your core. There’s just enough time to think this slow pace might actually be the death of you before he goes back in. Using his fingers to spread you apart, he starts tonguing your pussy. A mix of slow and deliberate movements with faster ones. His thumb circles your clit before his mouth moves up there to give it the attention it needs. 

With his mouth on your clit, he presses one finger into your pussy. You’ve never really thought much about his hands and now you’re wondering how you missed them. His long finger pumps in and out of you quickly. It seems that he’s reading your body and can tell that you don’t want something too slow. There’s so much pent up in you.

“Fuck, please, Wonwoo. I need another finger,” you whine. 

“Anything you want,” he mumbles into your pussy. 

He slides another finger inside of you and it makes you clench around him. That only seems to make him move faster. His mouth continues to work along with his fingers and your hands grip whatever they can reach. You’re a babbling mess and you suddenly understand what you overheard from Wonwoo’s room. There’s something so hot about knowing he’s this good with his mouth and his hands. It’s got you coming hard on his face. Harder than you can remember coming before. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises as soon as you’re coming down from your high. Your hazy brain doesn’t latch onto it the way it clearly should.

He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thing and then pulls himself up to lie next to you. His fingers trace patterns into your skin while he’s waiting for your breathing to come back to normal. 

“Jesus, I guess I know why I always heard so much praise through the wall,” you mutter. 

“None as pretty as the sounds you just made,” he says quietly. It’s so gentle, so intimate. There’s a lot of love between you and one of your closest friends, so you don’t dwell too much on it.

You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still dark with desire, fingers still keeping contact with your body. There’s like some kind of bubble around the two of you where nothing else exists. It’s a comfortable feeling, even in the quiet. Something pulls you in closer to him and you can feel his erection brush against your leg.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “You know, I’m still a bit pent up…”

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

“What? I’m gonna come on your face but we can’t actually fuck like we meant to?” you joke, a little braver than you feel. 

“This was about you, not about me,” he says simply. 

“It can be about both of us,” you say, hand running down his stomach. He tenses a bit under your touch and it’s unfair. He’s got perfect abs and you kind of hate it. Kind of hate that it’s so hot to you, too. 

You run your hand over the outline of his dick threw his shorts, enjoy the sharp intake of breath at the contact. It feels like a sign for you to keep going. But, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Kisses you hard and desperate. All of his restraint from before seems to be gone now. 

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warns. 

“Then show me how good you can fuck me. You were so sure earlier,” you press back. 

Wonwoo rolls over and pulls his shorts and boxers off. Casts them off to the side with your clothing. He reaches into his nightstand and pulls a condom out. He rolls back over to position himself between your legs. 

“One final time, are you sure?” he asks. It’s the first time since you came into his room that you’ve seen him look unsure.

“As long as you’re sure too, yes. I need this Nu, please,” you say, a little breathy with desire. 

“I love it when you call me that,” he admits. 

With your go ahead, he slides his tip along your entrance. You know you’re still wet from his hard work, but he still reaches into the dresser again. He pulls out some lube and runs it along his cock. Once he’s done that, he puts the cap back on and tosses it aside. He presses his tip against you again and this time slides in, slowly. Gives you a chance to adjust. 

You’re completely at Wonwoo’s mercy like this, with his arms on either side of you like he’s caging you in. Instead of wanting to get out, you can only think that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Your hands find their way to his arms, gripping him tightly as he bottoms out in you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses. 

“Nu, fuck, please move,” you beg. 

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I’m trying to adjust so it doesn’t end too fast,” he says, voice so impossibly deep. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

It finally does get him to move though, barely pulling out at all and fucking slowly into you, so deep. He’s filling you up in the most perfect way. Your nails dig into his arms, but you can’t help it. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it spurs him on. Makes him pull nearly all the way out of you before snapping hard into you again. He repositions one of your legs so that he can reach a different angle. With each hard thrust, his dick hits exactly where you need him to be. The rhythm is fast, which is really everything you need for how stressed you’ve been feeling. Each thrust uncoils more of the tension in your body. Each moan seems to spur him on more. 

When he leans down to kiss you, it’s messy. A clash of tongues and lips and teeth and need, so much need. Your hands find purchase anywhere on his body they can, even as his own arms seem to be a little shaky. So, you pull him down on top of you, bodies pressed tight as he continues fucking you. You’re still so sensitive from the first orgasm that you’re building up entirely too quickly. Even though you wanted it fast like this, you’re a little sorry to think it might be almost over. 

Wonwoo must feel that you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him and begging for him to give you everything. He pushes himself up a little, just creates the tiniest amount of space between your bodies, and you miss it a little. Miss the feeling of skin on skin. But, he’s only doing it so that he can circle your clit. He just wants to take care of all that tension. You give control over to him completely. Let him set the pace. An embarrassingly short time later, you’re coming for the second time. He removes his hand but still fucks you through the high. 

When your body stops shaking, you realize that he’s stilled inside you. He’s barely even moving as he looks down at you.

“It’s okay, Nu, I’m not that sensitive yet,”  you assure him

“Thank fuck,” he whispers. 

His pace is fast and you reach up to run your nails down his back. That seems to get him like nothing else does. When you do it a second time, he hisses out and you know he likes it. Each time your nails find a new part of his skin, his thrusts stutter. You clench your pussy around his cock and that’s all he can handle. He’s coming undone. 

You return the favor through his high, lightly keeping the rhythm going and helping him settle his weight on top of you. His breathing is still heavy when he meets your eyes and gives you the gentlest kiss. Slowly, he slides out of you and rolls over. The next second, he’s up to dispose of the condom. He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed to help you.

“Well, I guess I learned one thing,” you say when he gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom.

“What’s that?” he calls over his shoulder.

“All that confidence was definitely warranted,” you say through a light laugh. 

You can just feel him rolling his eyes. “And here I thought you’d have less to say after a good fuck.” 

“Nope, chatty as ever. No more tension, though,” you say. 

“I’m glad,” he says, but it looks like he actually means it.

You move to get out of the bed and look at the sheets. Probably in need of a change. “Hey, do you wanna throw these in the hamper and just sleep in my bed tonight?” 

“Are you sure that doesn’t break any rules?” he asks.

“No, we’ve done it…are you teasing me?” Your question morphs in the middle when you catch sight of his face. He can be such a shit for someone who acts like he’s chill all the time. 

“I would never tease you,” he says, faux seriousness lacing his voice.

“That’s a shame, I like being teased,” you toss back.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he shrugs.

“Next time?” you wonder.

“Just go get in your bed, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says. 

It wasn’t like you agreed for sex with Wonwoo to be a one time thing. That felt like putting too many rules in place. Still, you’re not expecting it to happen again quite so quickly. You also genuinely didn’t realize he was home when you pulled out your vibrator. But, he was home and he barged into your room without knocking, pulled you to the edge of your bed, and fucked you hard. Made you wonder why you’d ever even consider using your vibe in the first place. 

The next time comes after another failed date. It kind of seemed like that was the recipe. Something goes wrong or you’re pent up and he’s there to let you use him. Although, he’s really using you just as much. You like to let him be a little rough with you. There’s something satisfying in the way he doesn’t treat you like he’s going to break you. It’s unquestionably the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s your business. You don’t need to share that with the class. You do figure that it might be time to talk about some kinks and boundaries, though. It would be good to be on the same page. 

That seems to be how it goes for a while, at least. It’s mostly you needing something, Wonwoo being able to sense that, and helping you out. It doesn’t seem to ever start from him being the one to need something. He doesn’t even seem to be going out and bringing people home so much anymore. Not that you’re keeping track, you just can’t remember the last time he did. Or maybe he’s trying to only bring someone home when you’re not around. 

He definitely holds true to his promise to tease you. One night, after a really long week at work with a lot of little things going wrong, he asks if he can take his time with you. In hindsight, you should have known it meant that it was going to mean teasing. But, you agreed anyway, and let him set the pace. Instead of hard and fast, he takes everything slow. He brings you right to the edge over and over again without letting you have your release. It’s insane how well he seems to read your signs. It seems like he can tell you’re close before you can. That night, it feels like it goes on for hours before he finally lets you come. It’s the biggest mess you’ve ever made. A fact that you would be embarrassed about if Wonwoo hadn’t looked so proud. Still, it feels like you’re the one always working something out.

Until it doesn’t.

One night, you come back from a night out with friends and are rummaging through the cabinets looking for a snack. This is the thing you hate about living with Wonwoo. He’s taller than you and doesn’t think twice about using the higher cabinets. You, on the other hand, can’t reach them so easily. You’re on your tiptoes trying to reach something when you feel him press into your back. His hand comes up and grabs the box you were reaching for with ease. You press further back into him when your heels hit the floor again.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles into your hair. His hands find a place on your hips, holding you against him. This feels different from how every other time has started. 

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly into the silence of the apartment. 

He lets one hand slide down, quickly meeting the bare skin of your thigh. You know your skirt is a little shorter than normal, but the night seemed to call for it. “This. Did you go out hoping to bring someone home?” 

“Maybe,” you say, shivering a little at the way his breath tickles your ear. 

“Are you trying to tease me?” he asks. It comes across almost like a demand. 

You wiggle your ass against him a little before you answer. “I would never.” 

“Of course not,” he says. 

Everything that happens after that feels different. It’s never started like this. It’s been passionate, but it’s never been driven by so much raw desire. It’s never been the kind of sex where Wonwoo pushes your skirt up around your hips and pulls your underwear down to your ankles. Never been the kind of sex where he buries his face in your pussy while you grip the counter for support. Never been so desperate and needy and rushed. 

He makes you come twice on his tongue with your knees going so weak that you can barely stand before he even moves onto actually fucking you. You’re so weak by the time you finish that he has to help you to the bathroom to clean up before he tucks you into your bed. You’re so tired that you don’t even realize how intimate it is when you ask him to get into bed with you. 

The disappointment that sets in when you wake up to get some water in the early hours of the morning hits you hard. Entirely too hard for something that’s supposed to be free of feelings. Your bed feels a little empty without him taking up space. Which is really stupid because it’s not like that’s been something you’ve been doing all of the time. It’s not something you’re used to. But, there’s an unexpected comfort in him. Something that catches you completely off guard. As you drift back off to sleep, you resolve to deal with your feelings in the morning. 

That’s how you find yourself sitting on Minghao’s couch as he makes you both a cup of tea. He hasn’t asked about your roommate yet, but you know that it’s coming. He just wants to have everything he thinks you’ll need first. A few minutes later, he sets two cups of tea down next to the plate of snacks he threw together. If you weren’t in such a crisis, you’d have time to be envious over how pretty the presentation looked. 

“So things with Wonwoo have gotten awkward?” he asks without preamble. 

“Jesus, Hao, let me take a sip first, at least,” you groan. 

“I don’t want to say that I told you this was a bad idea…” he starts.

“You were the one who spilled the beans that I thought he was hot. This is your fault too,” you point out. 

“I told him that he wasn’t alone in thinking his roommate was hot. I didn’t tell you both to start fucking without realizing it was bound to blow up,” he says. 

“I know,” you sigh. 

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. 

Minghao is a lot of things. He can be a bit of an art snob. He’s that kind of impeccably dressed where he looks like he just stepped off a runway. He can appear a bit detached. But, he’s also one of the most thoughtful people you know. He’s complex and he cares for his friends more than he cares for himself most times. Both you and Wonwoo are among those he counts as his closest friends. So, he just listens as you lay out everything that’s happened since the first time you had sex. He doesn’t judge or interrupt. Patiently, he just waits as you get it all off your chest, including how you felt after last night. 

None of that really comes as a surprise. You know that he’s going to give you shit and be there for you at the same time. What does come as a surprise is what he says when you’re done laying out your issues.

“I haven’t wanted to set you up because I wasn’t sure you were in the right place for it, but I actually have a friend that I think you might hit it off with,” he says. “He’d definitely get you out of this whole Wonwoo funk you’re in so things can go back to normal.” 

“You wanna set me up?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yeah, I think it’d be good for you,” he says. 

“Okay, tell me about him,” you agree.

“He’s really kind. Kind of talks in a permanent pout, but it’s endearing somehow. He’s a giant softie at heart and he’s so incredibly loyal. He’s been talking about how he’s looking for something a little more serious. I think you’d like him,” Minghao says. 

“What’s his name, Hao?” you ask skeptically.

“Mingyu,” he answers and your eyes go wide.

“Mingyu? As in that hot model you’re friends with?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Minghao says evenly.

“Okay, you can see if he’s interested,” you agree.

It’s been a couple days since Minghao threw out the suggestion of setting you up with Mingyu. The two of you have exchanged a few messages and he does actually seem really nice. He’s also funnier than you expected him to be. When he asks if you want to get dinner the upcoming weekend, you find you’re a little bit excited. 

There’s only one issue. You feel like you need to tell Wonwoo. You know that he’s not going to care, but it still feels weird when you’ve been fucking around. Maybe Minghao was right and the whole thing was a terrible idea after all. It’s hard for you to tell him when you seem to keep missing each other, though. Lately, he’s been playing video games over at Vernon’s place more than normal. Even if they’re streaming, something feels weird. 

“Hey,” he calls out from the front door, snapping you from your thoughts. 

“Oh hey,” you answer, looking up at him. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he moves to head back to his room. “Everything okay?” 

He stops to look at you when you ask that question and his eyes still look a bit distant. “Yeah, fine. Why?” 

“I don’t know, you’re being short with me,” you say. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t have anything to say.” 

“Okay,” you say, drawing out the first syllable. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that Minghao set me up with his friend Mingyu and I was thinking I’d go out with him.” 

“You don’t have to tell me about your dates,” he says evenly.

“I just thought…” you start.

“We agreed,” he interjects. “Enjoy your date whenever you go.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly to his retreating figure. 

The whole point of agreeing to go out with Mingyu was to get things back to normal with Wonwoo. It was clear that you had gotten in over your head. Now, you’re wondering if things are going to be able to go back to normal at all. This isn’t your normal dynamic. You always shared stories about dates, hook-ups, anything and everything under the sun. Your other friends always said it was weird for the two of you and you just ignored them. Now, you feel like you’re in it alone. Maybe they’re right and it is weird.

Since it’s a little on the later side anyway, you decide to grab something from the kitchen and just head into your room. You can go to bed early and forget that whole conversation even happened. That’s probably for the best. It’ll be easier to get back to normal once you’re going on dates again. Once you stop fucking your roommate like you could have ever done that without forming some kind of feelings. 

It’s the middle of the night when you feel someone slide into bed around you. A familiar scent slips into your consciousness as an arm slides around your center. You nestle back into the chest and know for sure that it’s your roommate. The same man you’re trying hard to get over.

“What are you doing, Wonwoo?” you mumble in sleepiness. 

“Don’t go on the date with Mingyu,” he says. He sounds completely awake. 

“What?” you ask. Your brain is still foggy from sleep. 

“Don’t go out with anyone else,” he says. 

That makes you open your eyes as the words bounce around in your brain. You turn over to your other side so that you’re facing him. His hair is messy and all he’s wearing is a plain white t-shirt, but your heart still constricts a bit at the sight of him. 

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” you ask, voice thick with mental exhaustion.

“Exactly what I told you. I want you to turn Mingyu down,” he says.

“Why should I?” you challenge. 

“Because, well, we’ve got this…” he starts and fumbles over his words.

“We haven’t got anything. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” you point out. “Hell, I asked you to stay in bed with me after you fucked me in the kitchen and you couldn’t even make it til morning.” 

“I know, but I was scared that night because I realized I was starting to feel something,” he says. “And then Hao texted me to tell me he’d finally given your number to Mingyu…”

“Finally? What do you mean?” you asked.

“He’s been asking for your number for months,” Wonwoo says through somewhat gritted teeth. “So Minghao told me you’d agreed to be set up and I don’t know, I guess I just decided…”

“To avoid me?” you supply. 

“I didn’t know what to do. And I didn’t know how to process you not telling me,” he admits. 

“You weren’t around for me to tell you,” you point out. “We’ve been fucking. I wasn’t just gonna be like oh by the way, I’m going on a date.” 

“Please don’t go on a date with him,” Wonwoo asks again.

“I will consider not going if you can actually talk to me,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks. 

“Everything you’re feeling and why this whole let’s just be roommates that fuck was stupid,” you say. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says immediately. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re not going to be able to go back to sleep, and send Wonwoo to the kitchen to get you something to drink. By the time he’s back, you’re sitting up in bed and ready to have an actual conversation. 

You stay up entirely too late talking about everything between the two of you. It’s a little hard to believe Wonwoo is so open with admitting how he feels. It’s harder to believe that Wonwoo knew he felt something for you before the very first time you had sex. In his mind, it was clear that he wasn’t just offering because the two of you were friends. He offered it as a way to gauge your own feelings. But, after that first time, he kind of figured it was just sex and tried to detach himself from it. That was when you started to feel something for him. 

When he’s done admitting his own mistakes and feelings, you figure that it’s time for you to own up to your own. It was really silly to just make up his side of the conversation about why he didn’t stay in bed with you that night. After all, the one thing you both stressed before sleeping together the first time was that you had to be honest in your communication. That’s what friends did and you were friends before anything else. As it turns out, you’re both way more on the same page than either of you realized. 

“You’re wrong about one thing, though,” you admit. 

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It was never just sex for me. I was totally done the first time you kissed me,” you share, picking at a thread on your comforter to avoid looking at him.

“I kissed you before we even had sex,” he points out, incredulous. 

“Yeah, turns out I’m not so good at the just friends who fuck thing,” you say with a shrug. 

“If I’d have known that was all it took, I’d have kissed you months ago,” Wonwoo grumbles.

That brings you up short. “Nu, just how long have you liked me?” 

“I don’t know, a while,” he says. 

You just shake your head at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Just talk to me next time.” 

“Can we go back to having sex now? I miss the feel of you,” he whines out. “And the taste.” 

“We literally fucked less than a week ago,” you point out to try and avoid the way it makes heat pool. 

“I could taste you every day and never get sick of it,” he says without any embarrassment. 

“Are we really giving this a try?” you ask.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Wonwoo says.

“I do, I’m just scared. What if we try a relationship and it doesn’t work?” you ask. “You’re one of my best friends. I don’t wanna lose that.” 

Wonwoo reaches out to tilt your head up. “We’ll just promise to be honest with each other. We can figure this out together.”

“Okay,” you agree.

“So, we’re doing this?” he confirms.

“Yeah, we’re doing this.” 

Just like that, you agree to take a leap with the only person that you’ve always trusted to catch you every time you fall. It feels scary, but also completely natural. 

i hope you enjoyed it! 💕

[astroboots]

Rainy Night Patrol

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.

Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.

A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.

Word Count: 4,800

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

Rainy nights in New York are the fucking worst.

It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.

It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.

Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.

The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.

So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.

Christ, he hates this city.

By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.

You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.

It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.

Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.

He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.

No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.

With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.

Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.

Shit.

His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.

Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?

The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted. 

Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.

He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.

New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe.  And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.

His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.

A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.

Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.

Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.

Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock.  He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.

You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.

Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.

Oh fuck it!

Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.

You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.

He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.

His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.

He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.

And fuuuuuck.

He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.

God you feel so fucking good.

Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.

Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him.  All of it telling him the same thing.

He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.

You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.

He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.

Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.

Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.

He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.

Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.

He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.

Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.

"Miguel."

Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.

"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"

"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.

He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"

"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."

"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.

"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."

It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.

He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.

"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."

He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.

"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."

The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.

"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"

You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.

"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."

You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.

No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.

You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.

"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.

Pleasure that only he can give you.

"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.

"I'm right here."

You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.

"Fucking you."

It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.

"Making you come," he bites out.

You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.

Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.

Fuck, you're coming.

"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…

"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."

Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.

If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.

And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.

It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.

This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.

And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.

But that’s not happening tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones. 

He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.

Miguel is out of patience. 

Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.

Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.

Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.

You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.

Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.

His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.

"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"

"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.

The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again. 

He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.

"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.

Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger.  He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.

"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"

Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.

It's why he needs to protect you. 

Always. 

Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–

You make a negative sound, shaking your head.

  "No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."

He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your. Fucking. Panties!?

Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?

"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.

"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.

With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.

"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"

"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.

The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.

Fuck, he has to move. He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming. 

Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.

Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.

More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.

He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you." 

He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you. 

He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours. 

You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.

This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.

It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.

No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.

The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body. 

You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.

"You're getting me new panties."

A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.

"Sure, nena."

"And coffee in the morning," you add.

He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.

"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.

Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.

Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?

He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.

You nod into your pillow.

"Mmhmm."

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.

The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep. 

The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him. 

He’ll keep you safe. 

Always.

Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play // Chapter 9 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. 

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

As I delicately dab the gauze against Nick's left eyebrow, I can feel it nearly slipping from my trembling hands. The tension is palpable as I firmly grasp his stubbled chin, forcing his gaze to meet mine for just a moment before his eyes dart back to the action unfolding across the ice. 

It all went down so fast.

In a flash, Sanchez slung the puck past the goalie and into the net, eliciting a roar from the crowd. But the celebration was short-lived, as the clash of bodies around the goal quickly turned chaotic. The Bruns defense swarmed Sanchez, shoving him roughly, while another player trips up Ruffilo in a blatant display of aggression. And then, as Nick is getting to his feet, one of the opposing players "accidentally" strikes him across the face with the sharp end of his stick, drawing blood and a collective gasp from the onlookers. It takes the quick action of Dominick leaping over the boards, and the restraint of Sebastian, to keep Karlsson from pummeling the offending player then and there. 

With a few deft motions, I managed to clear away the blood, Ruffilo's injury was not as severe as it had initially appeared. Relieved to see that no stitches would be necessary, I turned my attention to Jack, giving him a reassuring thumbs up. Jack responds with a curt nod, his gaze shifting towards the ice as he silently communicated his readiness to get the game back underway. Taking the cue, I reached out and gave Nick a firm pat on the shoulder, prompting him to swiftly leap back over the boards and rejoin his teammates on the rink. Turning back to my makeshift medical station, I set about the methodical task of cleaning up the scattered gauze pads and securely closing the saline solution. 

Noah has been skating past my post repeatedly today, each time i've tried to ignore his presence, it's been a mere two weeks since our fateful universal date. Since that night, we've been utterly unable to keep our hands off one another, our bodies drawn together by an irresistible magnetic force that threatens to consume us both. 

Although we've managed to keep our situationship secret for now the ever-present anxiety of being discovered hangs over me like a dark cloud. The thrill is intoxicating, yet the guilt gnaws at my conscience. I know deep down that what we share is wrong, taboo, a flagrant flouting of the rules - and yet, in his presence, all rational thought seems to evaporate. 

The way he moves, the way he looks at me, ignites a fire within that I find impossible to extinguish. 

 The words breach of contract. Misconduct. All flash in my brain when I think about it, but they vanish shortly after his hands touch my skin. One misstep, one slip-up, could shatter the fragile web we've woven - and the consequences of that are almost too terrifying to contemplate.

I’m no longer the only nurse on the team. McGuirre joined us last week, he is smart and funny. Recently divorced from his husband he took the job for a fresher start. Since then, each time Noah has needed a look over or some small injury, I have him handle it instead. The exchange of care helps quell the anxiety in my chest.

But it doesn't stop my heart from racing every time he looks my way.

  This game is falling apart and it's putting both the fans and the players on edge. The players have already engaged in a staggering five fights. We are down by three points, and the frustration is etched on each of their faces. Lawrence, has already broken two hockey sticks, cracking them across his knee with roaring yell. Karlsson, has found himself in the penalty box twice, forced to sit out crucial moments due to his overzealous play. In contrast, Noah, though not directly involved in any altercations, has been an aggressive presence, getting in the faces of multiple opposing players, unwilling to back down from the challenge. 

Even my father is visibly on edge, his cheeks flushed not from the chill of the rink but from the sheer tension of the moment. Up in the visitors' box, a group of recruiters from the Olympics, accompanied by the team's public relations manager, have their eyes trained intently on the game, focusing particularly on the standout players, Ruffilo and Sanchez. With each impressive play made, the recruiters can be seen pointing and discussing animatedly. 

As the final buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, the dejected players trudge off the ice, their shoulders hunched and their faces etched with frustration. The heavy footfalls echo through the empty halls, punctuated by the occasional angry muttering or the slamming of a door. Once inside the cramped, dimly lit locker room, the pent-up emotions finally erupt, with players hurling their sweat-soaked jerseys and slamming their fists against the metal lockers. The cacophony of crashing gear and furious shouts creates a chaotic symphony. It doesn’t take me long to put away the supplies and gather my keys and phone from my locker. Heading out quick.

As I aimlessly scrolled through my phone, the bright glow from the screen casting an eerie blue light across my face, I was completely oblivious to the looming presence approaching from the side. I’m tired and just want some late night dinner and trashy TV. Utterly absorbed in the mindless distraction of social media, I failed to notice the large, imposing figure drawing nearer until a sudden, vice-like grip seized my arm, yanking me forward with surprising force. Startled, I glanced up to find myself staring at a towering, sulking, Noah. His fingers, still damp and wrinkled from what was presumably a recent shower, dug painfully into the soft flesh of my bicep as he roughly dragged me along, his broad shoulders and thick neck tight with frustration. The pungent, earthy scent of his body wash, a musky, woodsy fragrance, assaulted my nostrils, his shoulders red frome the heart of his shower. 

We approach the storage closet, my head instinctively swivels around, scanning the empty hallway for any prying eyes that might catch. The coast is clear, and with a gentle nudge, he guides me through the doorway, clicking the door shut behind us. The small, enclosed space is dimly lit, barely holding all the storage let alone two human bodies.

“You’ve been ignoring me, little fox.” The dark, brooding intensity in his eyes is intense as he stalks towards me, his lithe, predatory movements leaving no doubt about his purpose. Droplets cling to the silky strands of his bangs, which sweep alluringly across his sharp cheekbones. I feel my back press against the sturdy wooden shelves behind me, the practice cones and sports gear rattling slightly from the contact.

Trapped, I try to stammer out a weak explanation, insisting that this is "nothing personal, just professional." But the tremor in my voice betrays the growing arousal I feel pooling between my thighs. As his hungry gaze rakes over my body.

 As he inhales sharply, a low, rumbling growl escapes his lips, further stoking the fire within me. “Turn around.”

My heart is hammering in my ears and I can barely register to move. “Wh-what?”

"Turn. Around." he commanded, his voice low and gruff. Slowly, I pushed off from the shelf, my eyes fixed on him as my body turned. He was impatient, taking my hips in his strong, calloused hands and spinning me the rest of the way around, pulling my backside firmly against his hips. I could feel his throbbing cock pressing against my ass, and a needy whine escaped my lips at the thought of him filling me up once more.

With one swift, powerful thrust, he pushed me into the shelf, I braced, pushing some of the gear aside as my body jolted forward. It still wasn't enough - I wanted more, craving the delicious, almost painful sensation of being stretched and dominated by this man. 

His breath hits the shell of my ear as his long fingers grasp my hair and pull my head back to meet his lips. “Say it,” he growls, “Say you want me to fuck you.” I whimper, it's all my brain can do, my ability to form words is short circuiting. “Speak words, little fox.” He says tugging my hair, causing just a quick nip of pain at my scalp.

“Please, Noah,” I beg, it's enough. Noah's free hand swiftly tugs down my pants and underwear, exposing me. Kicking my legs apart, he decisively slides his hand up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, zeroing in on the throbbing center of my arousal. Without hesitation, he presses a long, skilled finger directly onto my sensitive clit, gently massaging the slick, swollen nub in firm, circular motions. The sensation is electric, and I can't help but gasp as he suddenly plunges that same finger deep inside me, filling me to the knuckle. I can feel the cool metal of his ring as it grazes my most sensitive walls, and he pulls back only to push forward again with more force. My body responds eagerly, clenching and fluttering around his intrusion as white-hot pleasure radiates through me. The combination of his confident touch, the fullness within me, and the intense stimulation on my most sensitive spots has me teetering on the edge of ecstasy, my breath coming in short, needy pants.

As his hand slowly withdraws, he carefully cups a portion of my glistening wetness between his fingertips, savoring the delicate texture and warmth. Releasing his grip on my hair, I turn my head just in time to witness him hastily shoving down his sweats, his throbbing cock springing back to meet the taut skin of his abdomen. With a deliberate motion, he coats the swollen tip and rigid shaft with my own arousal. My eyes roll back and I bite down hard on my lower lip, enthralled by the erotically charged sight. Bracing myself against his hip, I can feel him guiding his pulsing length to my entrance, sinking in the moment he finds the perfect spot. There is no hesitation, no gentle buildup - he simply begins driving his hips forward, the slapping of skin against skin echoing through the charged atmosphere as he grips me tightly by the hips.

Rising up on the balls of my feet in a desperate bid to feel him buried within me to the absolute hilt. The overwhelming, all-encompassing need to be ripped apart, to be used and claimed with utter abandon, pulses through my veins like molten desire. He answers my frantic, wanton movements with grunts and pants, his grip tightening around my waist until I can feel the sharp crests of my hips pinching under the sheer force of his grasp. 

I arch my back, grinding myself against him with wanton abandon, lost in the ecstasy of being utterly possessed. 

The intense sensations are almost overwhelming, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me as he continues his relentless pounding. I can barely catch my breath, whimpering and gasping in a desperate attempt to hold back the screams that threaten to escape. My fingers claw at nothing, grasping for something, anything, to anchor myself as my body is wracked with one earth-shattering orgasm after another. The backs of my thighs burn from holding myself up on my toes, but I refuse to give in, needing to feel every inch of him filling me, stretching me to my limits. 

His large hands grip my backside, kneading the flesh as he pulls me forward to meet each of his powerful thrusts. I can imagine the lewd sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside me, leaving me raw and thoroughly claimed. The only sounds that fill the air are his grunts, growls, and heavy panting as he takes what he needs, completely consumed. 

Deep within, I feel a stirring of something more profound - a dawning realization that he is claiming me, body and soul, in a way no other man ever could. With each punishing stroke, he is staking his indelible mark, making me his and his alone.

In what feels like an eternity but is mere moments, he lets out one last guttural groan, his hips surging forward in a final, forceful thrust. I can feel the tension in his body as it quivers and strains, every muscle going taut before finally releasing in a shuddering wave of relief. Collapsing over me, he pants heavily, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. We stay locked together, suspended, my legs trembling as I slowly lower them to the floor. The warmth of his release coats my insides, the sensation both foreign and familiar as it seeps into every sensitive crevice. Time seems to stand still in that hazy, blissful moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of us. Finally, reluctantly, we begin to part.

He helps bring my pants back up as I fix the hem of my shirt. His arms wrapping around my waist as he pulls me in head tucking over my shoulder. He doesn't say anything. Just lets out a shaky breath before kissing the side of my neck and turning around to leave.

As I reluctantly bid farewell to Noah, a profound sense of melancholy washes over me, shaking my entire being more intensely than the passionate encounter we had just shared. The tender goodbye lingers, its emotional weight far exceeding the physical intimacy we had experienced. Glancing down, I notice my phone and keys strewn haphazardly on the floor. I can't even recall the moment I dropped them. 

Steeling myself, I step out of the closet, turning to my left only to witness Noah vanish back towards the locker rooms. In that instant, I'm painfully aware that I'm not alone - Ruffilo and Karlsson stand in the hallway, their eyebrows raised in a silent expression of surprise and judgment as our eyes meet. My cheeks flush with a deep, burning crimson as I spin on my heel, heart pounding, and quickly make my way down the hall towards the parking lot, desperate to escape the prying eyes and the weight of the moment.

[girlactionfigure]

🔵THURSDAY morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

🔸MORE DEAL NEWS..

.. ALIVE?  Israel estimates only 33 hostages remain alive, although this is said only quietly.

.. HERE’S WHAT THE US IS TRYING TO CONVINCE ISRAEL.. American officials:  Israel achieved everything it could on a military level in Gaza.  (Therefore no choice but to do a deal, right?)

.. THIS IS NEW.. The US, German and British ambassadors in a joint statement:  "Our first priority is to find a solution to free the abductees and do it now.” (First time hearing that, until now it has all been about humanitarianism for Gazans.)

.. ANALYSIS.. (The Arab Desk) A blitz of fakes mixed with an American pressure press on Israel to influence the talks. The USA is putting pressure on Israel from all directions. All the  pressure from home and from outside are aimed at one person, the Prime Minister of Israel Benjamin Netanyahu.  You can literally see in the Arab channels as if they received an instruction sheet.

.. IRAN OR NOT?  The Iranians officially announced yesterday that they are not involved in the talks.  An Arab source reveals, the Iranians are involved behind the scenes.

.. OPPOSITION MK SA’AR ATTACKS IDF CHIEF HALEVI.. on Halevi’s public statement on the (IDF staying in control of the) Philadelphi corridor (Egypt border) which is contrary to the Israeli position that should remain on the axis - "stupidity and lawlessness for its own sake.”

.. RUSSIA AND TURKEY? Senior Hamas official in an interview: We asked to add Russia and Turkey as mediators - but Israel refused.

🔹US MEDIATOR LEBANON.. A Lebanese official who attended the meeting with Amos Hochstein says: “To be honest, we didn't understand what he brought, since he didn't have a clear answer about the progress of the negotiations, and he didn't have any information about the latest announcements that came out. He acted like someone who came to have a PR party."

▪️DID THE US RELEASE NAMES OF MOSSAD AGENTS TO IRAN?  Jerusalem Post: The US revealed to Iran the names of Mossad agents who were involved in the elimination of Hamas leader Haniye, in an attempt to calm tensions.

▪️HUMANITARIANISM.. Today Israel facilitated the transfer of 11 Gazan children to Jordan for medical treatment.

▪️EL AL.. reports that the company's revenues in the second quarter of 2024 amounted to approximately $839 million, net profit amounted to $147 million dollars.

♦️COUNTER-TERROR - BALATA.. Shechem, DRONE STRIKE!  Terrorist killed in the drone strike was released from Israeli prison for the hostage return in November.  2nd one attacking Israel and killed in the past week.

⭕5 rounds of HEZBOLLAH ROCKETS and SUICIDE DRONES at northern towns overnight and this morning, including 1 BARRAGE.

⭕2 rounds of a HAMAS ROCKET at Kissufim, near Gaza.

[mariacallous]

Almost one in five Americans over age 65 are unable to manage basic activities of daily life—bathing, dressing, eating, toileting—without assistance. Among those over age 85, the proportion is closer to half. Friends and family members can and do help out, but even so, about half of people reaching the age of 65-years of age will use paid long-term services and supports (LTSS) at some point. Most Americans do not have enough income or savings to cover these costs. The private long-term care insurance industry has never worked well despite many creative efforts to fix it and to encourage enrollment. The Federal Medicare program covers only short spells of home care after a hospitalization and does not provide coverage for long-term support. That leaves Medicaid. Medicaid offers a critical long-term care safety net for people who get their healthcare primarily through Medicaid—but it isn’t a good solution for most Medicare beneficiaries as it doesn’t align with the system that manages their care and pays their providers. Moreover, eligibility for Medicaid is restricted to those with very low incomes and few assets, so few older adults qualify. It is well past time to add a universal home care program to Medicare itself.

Prior efforts to move in this direction have been stymied. Some proponents have called for a universal, open-ended benefit. Critics have argued that any universal home care benefit would be a budget buster. These tensions are ubiquitous in social program design. An additional tension in designing a program that serves people towards the end of their lives is that public funds should be focused on expanding access to necessary care rather than protecting the ability of people to leave large bequests to their children. Designing a fiscally responsible, universal benefit that does all that is a challenging task—but we believe it is not an impossible one. In this post, we describe some design options for a Medicare home care benefit that could be dialed up or down depending on the priority assigned to program generosity or fiscal feasibility. 

Several features make designing a universal home care benefit challenging.

The need for home care is based on measures of functioning, not lab tests. A program must have simple and reliable ways to measure who needs care and how much care they need.

Most people report a preference for care in their own homes over that in nursing homes or other institutional settings. This is because, unlike medical care, which is often unpleasant and painful, home care typically provides support, comfort, and a degree of safety for beneficiaries. One consequence of these preferences is that a home care benefit would be susceptible to overspending. The program will need to have measures in place to avoid overuse.

Income alone is a poor indicator of how much Medicare beneficiaries can afford to pay for home care. For example, beneficiaries who are renters may depend on their incomes to afford housing; other beneficiaries may have very large, non-liquid assets but limited incomes, leaving them ineligible for Medicaid programs while unable to pay for care. Program design will have to address the importance of assets in this population.

Much LTSS is provided through informal care. Beneficiaries often prefer care provided by family members, but paying for informal care raises the potential for overspending, fraud, and exploitation of older adults.

State Medicaid programs currently cover the cost of home care for 4.2 million people, according to KFF, though eligibility and costs vary considerably across the country. Medicaid would continue to provide home and community-based services for people who are not Medicare beneficiaries. Some of this spending could be redeployed by states to improve the quality of nursing home care and for home and community-based services for people who are not eligible for Medicaid. The federal share of Medicaid savings could be used to defray the costs of a new Medicare home care program.

None of these challenges can be ignored—but none of them are damning either. As with any program, policymakers will need to make tradeoffs across these challenges to design a program that provides the maximum benefits consistent with their budget appetite. The good news is that the current landscape of home care financial protections is so limited that even a modest program that made conservative choices across these parameters, with costs we estimate at around $40 billion annually, would make many people who currently lack services much better off. Turning the dials more generously would, of course, cost more—and it would extend more benefits to more frail and vulnerable Medicare beneficiaries. 

What might such a very-conservatively designed universal program look like? Eligibility for the program would be restricted to people who independent clinical reviewers determined were unable to perform two activities of daily living (e.g., bathing, toileting, or eating). That’s the standard that many State Medicaid programs already use, and it could be assessed annually during the initial implementation period to further develop and monitor the uniformity of functional assessments over time. Second, the program would include cost-sharing that varied according to people’s means. Medicare beneficiaries with high income and assets would receive modest assistance from the program to defray a portion of the costs of home care; those with fewer assets and less income would pay much less. Third, beneficiary contributions to the costs of their care would depend on both their current income and their accumulated assets, but through cost-sharing rather than a strict cutoff. For example, at the cost listed above, we could allow all qualifying Medicare beneficiaries to fully retain income up to 150% of the poverty line ($22,600 in 2024) and assets up to $30,000; beyond that limit, individuals would still qualify but would pay cost-sharing out of their resources to defray taxpayer costs. Fourth, only care provided by formal caregivers associated with home care agencies would be covered. Hours of support would be based on need, but provider agencies would be subject to a population-based hours of service budget. The combination of resource-based copayments with population-level budgeting will ensure that the costs of this program will not explode. Finally, Federal Medicaid savings from shifting home care benefits from Medicaid to Medicare would be used to defray the costs of the program.

The program we’ve outlined tightly focuses benefits on the most vulnerable people who currently have little eligibility for care, and few means to pay for services. But many others could also benefit from a new home care program. People who have impaired functioning that does not meet the two activities of daily living standard may also need assistance. Lower cost-sharing for middle-class people would leave them more resources to make the most of their lives. The tradeoff is simple: at a higher cost to the federal budget, more people would get more protection. We can’t define where the lines should be drawn—that’s Congress’s job—but our analysis suggests that there are programmatically tractable, fiscally feasible ways to add a home care benefit to the Medicare program.

[centrally-unplanned]

The Gaza floating pier plan is an odd one, I was doing a bit of research & thinking on its logic. Like obviously you can get more aid in Gaza right now, its just Israel (and also Egypt, who buck-passes on this constantly) refuses to in turn increase aid or admit that aid is being truly slowed. Though also its a function of the fact the demand for aid is much higher than before, both through destroyed stocks, loss of domestic agricultural output (which Gaza had a little of pre-war), and supply needs for the occupation forces. And its not like the US right now really wants to get more involved in this issue, its net losses for the US as far as the eye can see. So it puts a bit of a permanent stake in a situation one would rather not, to solve a problem whose cause is tangential to this solution.

But on digging I do see the logic in it - essentially its a sign of the US - or lets the say the Biden admin, good to be specific - losing faith in not only Israel's conduct in the war, but also its goals for the war at all. It symbolizes that not only does the Biden admin expect them to not overly budge on the blockade issue, but they still will not be overly budging on it several months from now. But that this isn't a part of some Grand Strategy on their part, a strategic play to idk pressure Hamas to come to the table or even like weaponize suffering to cause legitimacy collapse. They just can't get around to a coherent end-state vision here, and things like aid restrictions are just strategy theatre run amok, "can't let in the ~weapons oh no" thoughts running on autopilot while Israel fights with itself over its goals. You can tell this because they are letting the port happen! They could just say no, if Lebanon tried to do this they would bomb it.

But of course while the Biden admin is less than thrilled about increased involvement, it (primarily) knows how badly this issue is damaging rep in the middle east given its stuck with its wedded ally, (secondarily) generally is opposed to famine and human rights crimes in any context and needs a strong reason to ignore them (which, to be clear, does happen sometimes, but this the baseline), and (tertiarily) doesn't love the domestic tension the issue is generating. And it no longer trusts Israel to fix its own mistakes in this regard. So it wants to "take it out of their hands" - now the US can set the tempo of aid deliveries, and Israel can't really stop it. (Like sure if they truly throw down they can block aid, they are going to cooperating on security for the pier, but it would be big leap in spiting the US for them to do that) It bypasses their dysfunction, which they expect to be ongoing. ~2 months from now the US can make sure if/when things have continued to go badly it can start mitigating harm and also control the narrative better.

This is cold comfort for any of the ongoing problems today, which are legion. But the other message of the pier is that those aren't changing. Israel isn't budging, and hey we haven't mentioned em yet but Hamas isn't budging either, they scuttled the latest round of cease fire talks and know that their demand of a permanent cease-fire at this point is a non-starter so I think that shows status quo reigning. Hey, maybe we will see what comes out of Doha in the next few days, but I bet it won't be too surprising (a short term hostage exchange is possible but that won't relieve the big issues). I am low certainty on this but if I am Hamas I think so far this is "going according to plan", certainly they wish they were inflicting more causalities on the IDF but they have a track record of realism on this one, they knew this would happen and politically things have been going well for them. And Israeli's political dysfunction seems stable as long as no elections are called, which is the smart money right now (Unless the Orthodox Jewish Freerider Problem blows the coalition up). So for the Biden Admin, the overton window for immediate action is very small, which means that they think plans that have longer time horizons make sense.

Idk it could just be them flailing and trying to look like they are Doing Something, but generally their track record on this front is pretty solid, Biden FP has been grounded (not the same as universally effective, though I think its been good overall). And Doing Something only works if it isn't a boondoggle, 2 months from now isn't after the election after all. Incompetence is possible, sure, but given their track record not my baseline, and I think the logic here does check out. Time will tell...

[crest-of-gautier]

EVP 999 reached on bone rattle arena! this makes my third gold map badge (my other two are jammin salmon junction + gone fission hydroplant!). i'm really happy to have been able to get this badge, it took 50 jobs starting from EVP 300 to get here.

the short of my thoughts is that it's important to take lots of breaks! but i have some other things related to salmon run and my journey with it in the past year that i want to share, so i'll put that under the cut 👍

i've only really grinded salmon run "seriously" since march 2023, and i only really attempt pushes on map rotations that i find favorable (it's important to have fun and having weapons you like help a lot!). and trying to get these map badges is a lot like a marathon, meaning that it's important to pace yourself appropriately.

i could go on about salmon mechanics that are important to learn. but salmon run at it's core ultimately tests your ability to quickly assess situations and make judgment calls. and the most important judgment call, to me is knowing when you need to step away from the grind because you've hit a skill wall.

the challenges i've faced with SR have changed over time as i've accumulated more experience with the mode. but generally speaking, i find that hitting a wall is characterized by repeatedly reaching a certain hazard level/wave, but not being able to completely clear it. i know i certainly found it annoying to reach wave 3 but not meet the quota.

when i started doing these pushes in 2023, i used to throw myself back into the queue because "we were just 1-2 eggs off! we'll get them next time!" and uh. here's the general gist of how that went:

(we failed again)

(i get increasingly irritated)

(my performance starts dropping from irritation)

(i get irritated that my points are dropping because there's only so many hours in a rotation)

("i need to keep playing otherwise i'll be stuck with the not as experienced players!!!")

(the cycle continues and i get a net loss of points)

fortunately, i don't do this anymore because it's largely unhelpful. it took awhile for me to get over the idea that throwing myself into another shift would get me back my points but. i did eventually!

these days i find that it's much more effective (and healing!) to take a 15-20 minute break (and sometimes an hour or longer!) whenever i notice signs of agitation or tension... any shifts that i do afterwards are MUCH easier.

the other reason why i think breaks are so important is because time away from the game helps you ask yourself better questions on what went wrong.

generally speaking if you can pinpoint why your shifts go to shit (thank you video footage and clips), you should be able to figure out a solution for that. and isn't that what learning is about?

i think a lot about how many shifts it took for me to get from EVP 300 -> EVP 999 on gone fission (124 of them). and when i think of that experience, i'm grateful that i learned the power of breaks since it took like half the jobs for me to get to 9's on bone rattle 💪

i definitely think that it's important to remember that getting through shifts will gets easier as you accumulate more experience. this is easier said than done but i think that if you can find ways to take note of your improvement, no matter how small, it will be easier to stay motivated!

i find this most noticeable with eggstra work... while i've only scored within the top 20% and never top 5%... i have gotten closer to the scores of the top 5% (i <3 marooners bay + jammin salmon junction eggswork) than i did at the start!

scoring aside, i cringe a lot at my spawning grounds eggstra work video, these have to be some of the most abysmal gameplay decisions ever and i'm happy to say that i wouldn't make that these days 💀! so if you've ever cringed at your old gameplay do not fret... it is natural and it's a sign of improvement!

anyway that's my lizz talk. while this is about salmon run i technically think this can expand to other pursuits in life. like creative hobbies. and sports! or maybe something else i didn't think of. learning is so wonderful and cool!

as a bonus, here's a notebook spread i made about golden rotation when i needed a break from the game... (did you know i really like my notebook... it's so fun)

[ausetkmt]

Homelessness in the United States presents a complex and multi-faceted societal challenge, reflecting deeper issues of economic disparity, housing instability, and insufficient social safety nets. As of the most recent reports, the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) estimates that on any given night, over half a million people are experiencing homelessness across the country. This figure encompasses individuals living on the streets, in emergency shelters, or in transitional housing programs. The causes of homelessness are diverse, ranging from economic factors like job loss and unaffordable housing to personal issues such as mental health and substance abuse.

The concept of criminalizing homelessness has emerged as a contentious response to this issue in many U.S. cities and states. This approach involves the enactment of laws and ordinances that effectively make it illegal to perform life-sustaining activities in public spaces, such as sleeping, eating, or panhandling. These laws are often justified as measures to maintain public order and safety, but critics argue that they merely punish the visible symptoms of homelessness without addressing its root causes. The criminalization of homelessness raises significant ethical and legal questions, particularly regarding the rights of the most vulnerable populations in society. It also leads to a cycle of arrests, fines, and jail time for homeless individuals, which can exacerbate their situation and make it even harder to secure stable housing and employment.

Denver, Colorado, presents a particularly illustrative case study in the criminalization of homelessness. In recent years, the city has implemented various urban camping bans and other ordinances that target public activities commonly associated with homelessness. These measures have sparked significant debate and legal challenges, highlighting the tensions between urban development, public space management, and the rights of homeless individuals. Denver's approach reflects a broader trend in American cities where rapid urban development and rising housing costs often collide with growing homeless populations, leading to contentious policy decisions and public debates.

The situation in Denver and other U.S. cities underscores the need for a more nuanced and compassionate approach to homelessness. While the criminalization of homelessness might offer a short-term solution to the visibility of the problem, it fails to address the systemic issues that lead to homelessness in the first place. This approach also raises critical concerns about the rights and dignity of homeless individuals, calling for a reevaluation of how society and policymakers perceive and respond to this complex issue. Ultimately, the case of Denver highlights the challenges and controversies inherent in addressing homelessness in urban America, serving as a microcosm of a national issue that demands thoughtful, holistic, and humane solutions.

Understanding the Criminalization of Homelessness

Understanding the criminalization of homelessness requires delving into the legal and societal mechanisms through which individuals experiencing homelessness are penalized for their status. This criminalization is a process where activities necessary for survival in public spaces - such as sleeping, eating, or begging - are legally prohibited, leading to penalties that range from fines to imprisonment. It represents a legal approach to homelessness that prioritizes public order and aesthetics over addressing the underlying causes of homelessness.

At the core of this criminalization are various laws and ordinances enacted by city councils and state legislatures. Anti-vagrancy laws are one of the oldest forms, traditionally outlawing the presence of people perceived as 'vagrants' in public spaces. Modern versions of these laws might target behaviors like loitering or sleeping in parks. Anti-panhandling laws restrict begging or soliciting in certain areas, often justifying these restrictions as necessary for public safety or to prevent fraud. Laws against sleeping in public spaces, sometimes referred to as "urban camping bans," prohibit sleeping, resting, or storing personal belongings in public areas. Cities might also enforce sit-lie ordinances, which make it illegal to sit or lie down on sidewalks in certain parts of the city during specific times.

The rationale behind these laws often revolves around concerns for public health and safety, maintaining the aesthetic quality of urban spaces, and supporting local businesses that might be affected by the presence of homeless individuals. Proponents argue that such laws are necessary to prevent public spaces from becoming unsanitary or unsafe, and to ensure that commercial districts remain attractive and accessible to shoppers and tourists.

However, public attitudes towards homelessness and these laws are deeply divided. On one side, some view these laws as necessary measures to maintain order and protect the rights of the broader community. They argue that the presence of homeless individuals in public spaces can lead to increased crime, decreased property values, and a general deterioration of the neighborhood quality.

On the other hand, critics of these laws see them as inhumane and counterproductive. They argue that criminalizing homelessness does not solve the problem but merely pushes it out of sight. By penalizing behaviors that are a direct result of being homeless, these laws make it more difficult for individuals to escape the cycle of homelessness. Paying fines or serving jail time can be particularly challenging for someone without stable income or housing, and having a criminal record can make it even harder to find employment or rent an apartment.

Additionally, these critics highlight that criminalization often ignores the systemic issues that lead to homelessness, such as lack of affordable housing, inadequate mental health services, and systemic poverty. They advocate for a more compassionate approach that addresses these root causes, providing support and services to help individuals transition out of homelessness.

The criminalization of homelessness reflects a tension between maintaining public order and addressing the needs of the homeless population. It raises significant ethical, legal, and practical questions about how society chooses to respond to this complex social issue. While the goal of maintaining clean and safe public spaces is understandable, the methods of achieving this through criminalization are increasingly being scrutinized and challenged. The debate continues as communities grapple with finding the most effective and humane ways to address the persistent challenge of homelessness. 

Historical Context of Homelessness in the United States

The history of homelessness in the United States is a tapestry of socio-economic changes, policy shifts, and evolving public attitudes. Tracing its roots, one can observe that homelessness as a widespread issue became particularly noticeable in the late 19th century, coinciding with industrialization and urbanization. However, it was the Great Depression of the 1930s that brought the plight of homeless individuals into stark relief, as massive economic downturns left many without jobs or homes. This period saw an unprecedented number of Americans experiencing homelessness, leading to the establishment of transient camps known as "Hoovervilles."

Post-World War II America witnessed a period of economic prosperity that somewhat mitigated the homelessness crisis. However, this was not to last. The deinstitutionalization movement of the 1960s and 1970s, aimed at reforming mental health care, inadvertently contributed to a new wave of homelessness. Many patients, released from psychiatric institutions, lacked adequate community-based support and resources, leading to increased rates of homelessness, particularly among individuals with mental health issues.

Economic factors have also played a crucial role in the history of homelessness in the U.S. The late 20th century saw significant changes in the economy, including deindustrialization, a shift to service-based jobs, and rising housing costs. These changes disproportionately affected low-income individuals, making housing unaffordable for many. The 1980s and 2000s economic recessions further exacerbated this trend, leading to spikes in homelessness. Additionally, urban renewal projects often led to the demolition of affordable housing units, replacing them with developments out of reach for low-income individuals.

Social policies have had a mixed impact on homelessness. The federal government initially took a welfare-oriented approach, with programs in the 1960s and 1970s aimed at providing housing and support services. However, in the 1980s, there was a significant policy shift. The federal government reduced spending on affordable housing and welfare programs, leading to a reduction in available resources for those at risk of homelessness. This period marked a gradual shift from welfare approaches to an emphasis on law and order, culminating in the criminalization of homelessness.

This shift to criminalization became increasingly prominent in the 1990s and 2000s. Cities across the U.S. began enacting ordinances that targeted homeless people, penalizing activities such as sleeping in public, panhandling, and loitering. These laws were often justified as necessary for public safety and urban cleanliness, but they did little to address the root causes of homelessness. Instead, they led to a cycle of fines, arrests, and incarceration for many homeless individuals, exacerbating the challenge of re-entering society and finding stable housing.

The history of homelessness in the United States is marked by a complex interplay of economic upheavals, social policy changes, and shifting public attitudes. From the welfare-oriented approaches of the mid-20th century to the more recent trend of criminalization, the nation's response to homelessness has evolved, reflecting broader societal values and economic realities.  

[kuhlayduskopik]

Intermission

Hello I'm going to talk at you a bit now about how things have been going.

Overall, it seems like I don't do great on this whole social media thing as a whole. When I fall into it too heavily stuff like the constant numbers game and some of the other methods employed by popular platforms despite knowing how they work seem to get into my head in the worst way, so I felt I finally needed a bit of time to fully detach and relax that tension. I can find a better way to engage with these places and keep my creative process intact.

Sharing my work is still something I very much enjoy and want to do, but I often found my intent and creativity getting lost in the conflicted muddle between indecision and platform pressure, especially as many sites have been changing the last few years in ways I find incrementally more difficult to navigate as they go. It's always been something of an issue, I just jumped into this without much familiarity with the digital landscape, not exactly a digital native despite my age bracket, and I'm not sure I've ever quite figured it out. I'm also not really keeping up as they continue to change, so I'd really just like to find a way to not get overwhelmed by whichever algorithm is pointed directly at my face.

But it's not all been issues with the sites themselves of course. Aside from that, what I was making wasn't quite vibing with me for quite a while so I was making a half-hearted attempt for far too long to walk both sides of a river I couldn't bridge. I had to take a step back for some better perspective and a fresh approach, and while I did seem to be making some satisfying progress most recently as a pretty positive note I did need a bit more to go, so I've been trying to maintain this momentum independently to really explore this avenue without having other distractions pull me down for now.

It might not take me as long as I'd thought, already things have been seeming a little more manageable, but I've still a ways to go to find the best solutions for me, and I think it's largely down to this last point. Health issues are a pain, as are mental ones. I've been followed by one or the other or both for a few years that without a doubt get in the way, but they're looking much more on these days thanks to finally finding what I needed to settle down and work through what I needed to. Not being in pain is pretty much just a net positive all round and it turns out therapy helps you pick out and work on issues in ways you'd have never have managed on your own, who'd have guessed.

I couldn't tell you exactly when I expect to be getting back into things, but I know exactly what I want when I didn't quite know before, and I have a much clearer idea of how to achieve it than previously, so I hardly expect it'll be too long. My biggest hope is to rediscover my passion and enthusiasm for creative work that I seem to have misplaced and to fully put this into my art, rather than just a thin veneer, and removing every obstacle that's gotten in my way seems to be the way I can do that.

Still- until I've sorted all that I am still making art, and you can even keep up with it if you want. If interested, you can find what I'm doing on a few Discord servers as it's the only place I'm posting for a little while as I feel a lot less pressure. It's not an ideal solution for the long-term, but I'm hoping it's not going to be long-term. Here's my server if you want to see updates there: https://discord.gg/eQh2ArADgk

[gudhoomanbean]

Stowaway Chapter 2

AN: Hi everybody! Let's goooo next chapter. I'm still busy setting things up, setting the scene, but getting Din and you to interact was definitely fun. I hope I'm able to stay true to who Din is as a character while also cracking that tough shell. Lots of slow burn and tension to come, because thats the BEST part :P. Let me know what you guys think! And should I make longer chapters? It would take longer to write and post, but if you'd prefer that lemme know :)

Warnings: Description of weapons, some tension, some swearing.

Word count: 2074

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The silence is suffocating. You just sit there for hours upon hours, with nothing to look at but a shiny helmet, green ears and the lines of stars streaking by. You don't know how he's able to sit so perfectly still for so long. And the awkwardness you feel is slowly eating away at your self control to stay silent. Eventually you can't stand it anymore.

"Am I a prisoner?" You ask, pretty sure you are, but not able to think of another question to break the silence.

That continues.

You're pretty sure he heard you. Is he ignoring you?

"Mr Mandalorian sir, I need to pee." You try again. This time you see his shoulders slump slightly, but you still don't get a response.

"I'll uh, just go downstairs then." You say, getting up. You slowly sidestep the chair while watching the Mandalorian for hints of movement. He stays stock still. You keep retreating backwards, and startle a bit when you hear the hiss of doors opening behind you. You retreat further into the next cabin and wait until the doors hiss closed in front of you and you lose sight of the Mandalorian.

For the first time in hours you're able to take a deep breath. You climb down the ladder as best you can with bound hands, and then turn to look at what you now have to assume is the urinal. Obviously this ship was not made to cater to anybody that doesn't stand up and pee. You stare at it very hard, wondering how on earth you're going to manage to relieve yourself.

"This is ridiculous." You mutter. You look around, wondering if there is possibly another solution. Your eyes land on a small round bucket type thing, and you shrug to yourself. You're no stranger to having to do things the hard way, or the gross way. Growing up on a small farming planet taught you to get your hands dirty, and your time spent as a combat medic for the Resistance made your stomach strong.

So you grab the bucket, pull your pants down, and crouch. And oh sweet stars it feels good. You hadn't realised just how much you needed to go until now. When you're finished you pick up the bucket and empty it into the useless urinal. Flushing it makes a loud sound that you're sure can be heard all the way up in the cockpit.

But if he's going to ignore you, then you're going to take advantage of it and try to amuse yourself down here. Now that one basic need has been fulfilled, you find yourself noticing another. You're so kriffing hungry. You take in the hull before you.

You didn't notice how cluttered it actually is on your way in, you just noticed wide open space in the middle. But the walls are full of stuff. Parts for the ship, nets, containers filled with who knows what. And to your left is a large locker. You move forward to open it up, your curiosity getting the better of you.

As you open the doors you gasp slightly. Every weapon known to the galaxy has got to be in here. You can't even tell what most of them are for. What on earth does someone need such a variety of weapons for, you wonder to yourself.

Turning slightly you notice a little storage locker. You press the button and it slides open, revealing a cot and a net hanging above it, that looks like a make-shift little bed for the kid. This must be where they sleep. You think about sleep, but shake youself. As tired as you are, your hunt for food is not yet over.

You start to dig through the containers, opening the smaller ones first. You're surprised at just how much of it is scraps of metal and parts for the ship. You're pretty sure you could build half a ship with all this stuff. By the time you're opening your fifth box to only find tools, you're starting to lose hope you're going to find anything edible. You groan and rest your head against the container.

"What are you doing?" A gruff voice asks close by. You jump up almost hit your forehead on his helmet. He was bending over you when he spoke, and you hadn't realised he was so close. You stumble back a bit, heart pounding.

"Are you one of those species that eats metal? The only thing in any of these containers is scraps and parts and tools." You ask him, flustered.

"Do you always answer a question with another question?" He asks lowly, taking a step towards you. You huff and hold your ground, not going to allow him to intimidate you further. You stare at him, almost challenging him.

"Only when I have important questions to ask." You say. He takes another step towards you, and you suddenly realise just how tall he is. He's close enough that if you leaned forward a little, your forehead would rest on his chest. This forces you to look up at him, and you have to actively control your rapid breathing. His proximity is slowly eating away at your resolve to not be intimidated.

"Then ask an important question." He says quietly. You suck in a breath at the implication. Like you haven't asked an important question yet. Anger bubbles up inside you, but you remain calm, knowing he's trying to rile you up. He tilts his face lower, and you can feel him looking at you through the helmet. You stare at the dark T shaped visor where you think his eyes are, willing yourself not to blink.

"Food. Where can I find food." You ask, and it comes out as a mumble. You internally kick yourself for sounding afraid, knowing you just lost whatever this interaction was. Not looking away from you, he points and your eyes follow to a container against the opposite wall. The little one right at the very top. You look back at him, and he still hasn't moved an inch. You stand there for a few more minutes until You realise grumpily you won't win this standoff especially not with your stomach beginning to eat your liver. So you take a step back and walk over to the container.

You open it and see a couple packets of rations, and while it isn't restaurant quality, you're just so glad there is actually something edible on this ship. You pick one up and open it, trying to work with your hands still cuffed and shaking from hunger. You pop a cracker into your mouth and almost forget to chew, practically inhaling the nutrition. You turn around and find the Mandalorian still staring at you.

You realise you didn't ask if you could eat the food. You blush a little in embarassment, scolding yourself for your rudeness. He didn't throw you in Carbonite, so as much as you want to fight back against his intimidating presence, you have to remember to at least be somewhat grateful to him. There was nothing that stopped him from turning the ship around and dropping you back at the transport, but he didn't.

"Am I going to stay cuffed the whole time?" You ask, and the little part of you inside that just scolded you for being rude throws a massive fit and almost walks out on you. You were supposed to say thank you. The Mandalorian doesn't say anything and only walks towards you. He stops again in front of you and you lift your hands up a little. He bends closer to you, and you feel your heart beating against your chest like a war drum.

He doesn't stop moving closer, and you're so shocked you don't remember how to move or breathe. You just stand there and stare at him with big eyes as he leans in, so that there is barely 10cm between the two of you. He continues to look down at you and your heart sits in your throat. He lifts his arm and you watch out of the corner of your eye as he reaches around you and grabs two packets of rations. He then pulls away from you, turns around and walks away, climbing the ladder and disappearing.

You stand there for a while, dumb struck. You're not sure what happened to your body in that moment, but when he was so close to you your mind just started to short circuit. You stare at the ladder where he disappeared and sink to the ground, absent-mindedly munching on your rations while pondering the great mystery of the armoured man.

What were his intentions? Why did he let you stay on the ship? Who was he? Your head was spinning with all these unknowns, and you wondered to yourself exactly who's ship you got on. You finish your rations and feel your eyes start to get heavy. At least now you know you aren't in immediate danger, so maybe some shut eye isn't so bad.

You remember seeing scraps of cloth and blankets in one of the containers, and you get up to go and pull some out. You grab a reasonable bundle and make yourself a little nest on the floor, knowing that you easily get cold. You wrap yourself up and drift off the minute you get settled.

~~~

Din climbed down the stairs with Grogu in his arms. The kid was tired and so was he, but with a stranger on the ship he was not going to be able to sleep. He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a bundle of blankets on the floor. He walked over and saw your forehead peaking out through a gap in some of them. He contemplated you, this strange person that snuck onto his ship without him knowing.

He had to admit, you were good at being sneaky. If he hadn't gone into that chamber and seen your heat signature through the wall, he would never have known you were there. That also reminded him that he needed to be extra cautious. He couldn't let it happen again.

Grogu suddenly wiggled out of his arms and slid to the floor, waddling over to where you were lying. He pointed at you and looked up at his dad, his eyes full of questions. Din didn't know what to tell him. He knew nothing about you except that you were a stowaway, you worked for the New Republic and you were a doctor.

Were you really only on this ship because the transport was dead in space? Din had seen the state of the ship and was inclined to believe you, but years of experience warned him to be cautious around you, because anyone could lie. You were absolutely going to stay cuffed until they reached Nevarro. Grogu started to climb into the blankets and Din reached forward to stop him.

"Hey, no. That's not your bed." He muttered, trying not to wake you. He picked up Grogu who made an upset sound and reached out to try and get back to the blankets. Din couldn't blame him, you made a little bed that looked comfy as hell, but he didn't trust you, and couldn't let Grogu sleep there. He carried Grogu to the compartment with the cot and opened it up. He placed Grogu in his little hanging bed and patted him, waiting for the kid to fall asleep.

Eventually Grogu's breathing came in long deep breaths, and looking behind him, Din saw that you were also still passed out. He decided to stay here, and lie down on the cot so he could watch Grogu, and leave the door open so he could watch you too. Climbing in he lay down with a soft grunt, the aches from sitting in a chair for hours starting to feel slightly better.

And so Din stayed like that, watching his son, and watching you. Wondering what the next few days would hold, and thinking about how much he secretly had enjoyed making you so flustered when he had gotten too close. He smiled only slightly to himself, knowing that eventually you would learn that if you challenged him, you would lose.

The rhythmic breathing from his son and from you started to lull him slightly, and before he even realised he had sunk into the dreamscape.

[autobotmedic]

@13urningstars

"Do what you got to do doc, I can handle it. I'm a big girl." Despite the easy going grin on her face, she's incredibly tense and it takes everything in her power to keep her tail still and not worsen the wound, claws practically digging miniature ravines in the rock she'd been settled on.

It had been a bad turn of events really. She had been exploring outside the Iacon Shoal as she most often did during her free time, when she had stumbled upon a small shark trapped in a fishers net. Now she couldn't tell you how the net had separated from its source (although, based on the state of the cord, she assumed it had frayed due to age and over use), but she could say that she had managed to free its prey. At a price, of course. During its panic, the shark had perceived her as a threat and attacked, which she wasn't able to avoid before successfully calming it down.

She returned from that endeavor with a new friend to feed the next time she was out, and a decently bite in her tail that hurt like a bitch.

She's lucky ratchet stumbled upon her really. Primus known's he's do a better job at patching her up then she ever could. And really? How much more could it hurt compared to now?

He nodded at her reply to his warning, accepting the permission to proceed. Ratchet could feel her tension as his hand slid under her tail to hold it while his other retrieved a package of material from the pouches along his back. He opened it, removed and wrapped the alginate dressing tightly around her tail, then tied a knot on the side opposite her injury to secure it in place. Afterward, he pressed his large palm over the worst of the marks, relying only on memory now that the wound itself was hidden (but he had taken careful note, thus memory was all he required).

"There is an antimicrobial solution added to these, and that will suffice, but it would be safer to have it cleaned properly later." Whether by him, in a better equipped medical room, or someone else. That was her choice.

Maintaining the pressure on her wound, he added, in a lower tone, "... I prefer Rescue or Ratchet, over 'doc,' by the way." It was not as important as medical care, but he would be applying pressure for several minutes, and it was better on any patient to have a distraction such as conversation than silence. No other topic had come to mind.

[justminawrites]

Satellites

AO3

1 | 2 | TBC

Summary: Six years after the Lunar Revolution, everything has changed for Crescent Moon Darnel. Now a top notch Lunar government official, Cress spends her time sifting through Lunar databases identifying the millions of people who went missing during Levana's reign, when she comes across a glitch that holds the fate of the entire country in its code. With the help of former lunar guard (and current recluse) Jacin Clay, Cress races against time to uncover a dangerous plot that could change the increasingly volatile tensions between Earth and Luna forever.

“UNFORTUNATELY THIS UNIT IS UNABLE TO PERMIT VISITORS AT THE MOMENT—“

Cress pressed the buzzer by the door for the fifteenth time and resisted the urge to swear into it.

Anyone who didn’t know better would assume that the occupants of the unit were merely out for the night, but she couldn’t be fooled that easily. She’d tracked down the IP address of his port-screen which had led her to this motel at the outskirts of the capital city, Artemisia, and remained unchanged for a week. 

He hadn’t left his unit in a week.

“UNIT NUMBER TWO-FOUR-TWO—” The automated voice was cold and unfeeling, as was the sudden breeze that swooped in out of nowhere and stung the back of her neck.

“Jacin— let me in!” She nearly squeaked into the built-in microphone by the buzzer, as another gust of wind ran right through her flimsy apparel. Today was not a good day for yoga pants.

“—STATE YOUR NAME AND PURPOSE OF VISIT TO CONTINUE.”

“Crescent Moon Darnel” she repeated, “Here on official Government business”

“UNFORTUNATELY THIS UNIT IS UNABLE TO PERMIT VISITORS AT THE MOMENT. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR LUNAR ID NUMBER TO BE NOTIFIED OF THE  EARLIEST AVAILABLE APPOINTMENT DATE TO SCHEDULE YOUR VISIT.“

“Jacin Clay, I swear to All the Stars I will break this—”

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like Government business” 

Cress blinked and stepped back as the door beeped and slid outward to reveal a fraction of a scruffy blonde beard and one blue-gray eye that somehow managed to look both disapproving and exasperated at the same time. 

“What do you want, Cress?” 

She crossed her arms.

“A ‘Hello Cress, haven’t seen you in a while. Sorry for leaving you outside to freeze off your ass’ would be nice to hear.” 

“Hello Cress,” Jacin said through gritted teeth, “What do you want?” 

“Did you get my email about the job-“

“Yes, and I clearly stated in that email, that I don’t want it.”

“But the-“

“No.”

“But we’ll be-“

“No.”

“Just give me five-“

“No.”

Cress pinched the bridge of her nose and released a breath to keep from losing her temper. If she’d known Jacin would be this uncooperative she probably would’ve been better off risking her luck alone. Or with the state approved guard she’d been so quick to refuse, Liam something��  Caine? Kinney? 

“If that’s all you wanted, then you should leave.”

Cress scrambled for a solution as the door began to slide shut once more.

“It’s about Princess Winter,” she blurted, and the beeping stopped. A long silence seemed to stretch between them and she had the strange urge to hold her breath. 

Everyone knew that the lunar princess and her bodyguard had broken up almost half a year ago; it was plastered across all the tabloids and net-zines, creating quite the scandal. Nobody knew why, of course, but Jacin quit working at the palace soon after. Cress had heard the news from one of the team members in her department and commed Jacin immediately. He never opened it.

“You said it wasn’t about Winter” Jacin said finally. She could hear the frown in his voice and realised she’d written herself into a corner; automatically reaching out to tug on a lock of her hair for comfort. 

The job had nothing to do with Princess Winter really, but she’d finally gotten the council to approve her solo mission under the condition that she be accompanied by a trained agent, i.e., former lunar guard Jacin Clay, who’d been missing for the past six months. So she’d chased him down with a single lead, stood outside his unit all evening and probably acquired some kind of new moon-frostbite in doing so and wasn’t about to give up without him at least hearing her out.

“Right,” she began as the door slid open a little farther, now revealing a faded white t shirt, “Yes, right, I did say that it wasn’t about Princess Winter in the email.. because I didn’t want.. it to.. um, get compromised?”

Not her best execution but it seemed to do the trick. The door slid open completely and Cress stepped into the unit, warmth flooding her from all sides and seeping right into her skin. She released a shudder as Jacin typed a few buttons on the touchpad by the doorframe which automatically lit up the room. 

Cress immediately wished it hadn’t. 

Calling the unit messy would be an understatement of massive proportions. She smelt the alcohol before she saw it. Rows and rows of reusable cans were scattered around the unit in a weirdly precise manner; some were stacked up against one another, some were carefully placed beside one another in a semicircular pattern, under and over the furniture and some were simply unopened. 

It was a controlled sort of chaos and she didn’t know wether or not to bring it up as Jacin walked past her and plopped down on the grey sofa. At least now Cress knew what he’d been doing all week.

Wisely, she chose not to bring up the room and simply sat down on the closest thing she could find— a coffee table adjacent to the sofa. Jacin winced as she accidentally displaced a can and rubbed his face irritatedly. Now that she could see him better in the light, it was clear that he hadn’t slept in a while. The bags under his eyes were rubbed raw, his eyelids were puffy and he was still in his boxers. 

Cress would’ve normally been embarrassed; he was so different from the polished, professional lunar guard she’d met a few years ago, but now she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but pity. The breakup really did a number on him.

“Would you quit it.”

“Quit what?”

“Stop it. Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of charity case.” 

But still the same snarky Jacin. 

“I’m not!”

“Look, Cress, your face is an open book alright? Just cut it out. I’m completely fine.”

 Cress rolled her eyes. He did not look fine. He had never looked less fine in all the time she’d seen him and she’d seen him nearly die multiple times— but she pursed her lips and turned away. 

It’s not your business, It’s not your business, she repeated the words her therapist had her memorise, in her head. Jacin and you might’ve been friends once but a lot has changed now and it. is. not. your. business. 

“So,” she said out loud, “Cans huh?”

Jacin looked at her in disbelief. 

“If you ever need to talk,” she tried again much to Jacin’s chagrin, “I know someone that can—”

“The only thing I need to talk about is how this job has anything to do with Winter” he snapped. 

‘You idiot.’ Cress mentally scolded herself, Dr. Miriam would be disappointed in her. She really should’ve minded her own business.

“Well, it’s about that glitch I found in one of the databases regarding Lunar immigration—”

“I read the email Cress,” he sighed, “You think it’s some kind of encryption.”

“Exactly, and just last week one of the council members received a notification with the same base code as the glitch—“

“Wait— council members?” Jacin looked at her, surprised, “The Lunar Council’s behind all this?”

“Yes, but just the surface level stuff—” Cress opened her mouth to backtrack but his eyebrows narrowed immediately.

“Is that why you contacted me? Because you needed someone to advocate for the council again?”

Jacin’s relationship with the newly appointed Lunar Council was precarious on a good day, but after everything that happened at their last Annual General Meeting it had derailed into outright hostility. 

Cress chewed the inside of her cheek guiltily; she was partly to blame for that debacle, after all.

“Jacin, this wasn’t Nova’s call—“ 

But he wasn’t listening to her anymore– Jacin had risen to his feet and begun pacing around the room in brisk, controlled strides, keeping well within his can-stacked path. She watched him walk into the kitchen and walk back out, somehow not upsetting a single aluminium-alloy can from its position despite his animated monologue. 

“I knew it! I knew leaving the council to her was a bad move. Let me guess, she wants me to grovel at her feet again. I bet she would just love it if if I came crawling back—”

The ‘she’ in reference to Jacin’s tirade was, of course, the newly instated Lunar Head of the Biochemical Research Wing, Sybil Nova. Daughter of the late Sybil Mira (Head Thaumaturge and Cress’s personal tormentor), and having established a fairly positive reputation within the Lunar community for being a shell herself, Nova was, on paper, the perfect candidate for the job. 

Except for the fact that she opposed the existence of lunar guards. 

Jacin was on a roll.

“Whose stupid idea was it to nominate the daughter of Levana’s old lapdog as the face of the new Lunar Democracy anyway, they’re the real idiots here–”

“Public vote,” Cress chimed in, but he steamrolled right through her, talking to himself now.

“And why appoint ME of all people, with such a futile mission– oh, I know damn well why. She just wants me to come back empty handed so she can rub it in my face; ‘see this is why the lunar guard is so outdated.. now if we sent a mecCorp to do his job’–“

“IT WAS ME, ALRIGHT?!” Cress yelled finally, unable to take much more of his ranting.

“What?” 

She swallowed slowly, nails biting into her palms as she curled her fists.

“It was me. I asked for you to be assigned to the mission.”

Jacin sat back down. 

An awkward silence shuffled between them until Jacin finally leaned forward to try to meet her eyes. Cress’s gaze, however, was stubbornly affixed to the floor. 

“Cress..” He trailed away, unable to find the words.

“I know you’re still mad at me for what happened.”

“I’m not—“

“And,” she pressed on, “That’s fine if you are. I won’t apologise for what I did that day. But this could be bigger than the both of us.”

Jacin shook his head and looked up to his white-grey ceiling. 

“What are you doing, Cress.”

It almost felt like a rhetorical statement when he said it but Cress bristled all the same. 

She considered kicking one of the can dominoes out of pure spite but refrained after seeing Jacin’s expression.

“I’m trying to save my country, Jacin, our country— and I need your help.”

This finally got his attention.

 Jacin rose and helped her up; Cress took his hand confusedly but before she could say anything he’d already guided her to the door and slid it open. 

“Goodbye, Cress.” he said with a note of finality, and locked her out.

______________________________________________________________

Ah. 

Cress debated punching the metal but decided that she wasn’t going to go back with both broken knuckles and a broken promise. They’d just have to settle for one. 

Sighing, she trudged back to her hover and pulled up the notifications on her portscreen. It read: 3 unopened comms. 

Wow. Three already? Carol must be in a bad mood if she sent her three comms within the hour, Cress frowned as she held out her arm, scanning her wrist to open the hover doors. Usually her stringent supervisor refused to go over one, extremely long vidlink that often involved public scolding for a rise in budget costs, even though Cress was sure that they were paying hourly and not per comm. She’d held her tongue anyway, she didn’t need to give Carol yet another reason to hate her.

The hover beeped and deducted 50 univs from her chip but before the doors could flick open, Cress felt something hard and cold press into the back of her head. She didn’t need to turn to know it was a gun. 

She slowly raised her arms in surrender. 

Stay calm, she thought to herself, you’ve been trained for this. But her heart was beating so loud that Cress might have completely missed what her assailant said if they had not punctured each word with a jab to her head. 

“Get. Down. Now.”

Cress obediently dropped to her knees. Unfortunately, the hover was shielding both her and her attacker from the windows of the apartment complex so even if someone had conveniently managed to look outside, they wouldn’t be able to see her.

“What—” She began.

“Be quiet.” 

Cress tried to steady her breathing and focus. 

This must be a robbery, and seeing as her attacker didn’t attempt to use any glamour, they were most likely a shell. The voice sounded muffled, so the attacker was probably wearing a mask— an escaped convict maybe? Someone who didn’t want to be immediately caught and handed in to the guard. Her fingers twitched; it would take all of four seconds to reach into her hover and pull out the standard-issue taser she’d left in the front seat. 

Cress knew she should’ve had it on her at all times, but she didn’t want Jacin to think she’d taser him into submission if he didn’t agree. 

The attacker seemed to be rummaging around for something behind her and swearing quietly, giving her enough time to discreetly flick her wrist. Nothing happened for one second, two and then the hover doors clicked open smoothly, opening outwards like insect wings, blinding the attacker for two infinitely precious seconds and Cress quickly lunged to the side just as the gunshot resounded all around her. 

“Shit— Shit!”

She rose quickly. Now that she had a clearer view of the perpetrator she was taken aback by how young they seemed to look. 

Big brown eyes were their only visible features, with both their hair and the lower half of their face, as Cress had guessed, concealed under a black hood and mask. They were clothed in an inconspicuous outfit, with pale, freckled arms jutting out of an oversized vest, grey pants and hiking boots. She ducked behind the hover again as another gunshot ripped through the night. 

Cress just had to reach into the hover for her weapon and it would all be over, but this kid was making it way more difficult than it needed to be. 

“Hey!” She called out, trying to distract the attacker, “You don’t want to do this.”

“Shut up, Ungifted.” The attacker spat.

Well, okay then. Cress scooted closer to the unlocked hover and blindly reached inside, mentally cursing her lack of foresight. She should’ve expected that someone would’ve recognised her, even though it’d been nearly six years since the Lunar Revolution. 

Their faces had been broadcast over and over like celebrities and there was even a time where she couldn’t walk to her hover without getting ambushed by paparazzi. This was probably some kind of ransom situation.

Her fingers closed around a hard, box like device just as the attacker turned and pointed the gun right between her eyes. 

Cress held her breath. She would’ve been scared if she hadn’t noticed the slight tremor in the attacker’s hand. Her hands had shook the same way when she’d first held a gun. 

“Get up.” 

She quickly scanned the area around her for a distraction but found nothing. She was facing the units directly now. Frowning she tried to discreetly pull the taser out but the attacker narrowed their eyes in suspicion and brought the gun closer. Just as she was about to consider conceding the taser in favour of a well-timed kick, the door to a unit slid open and the last person she’d expected to see walked out. 

Jacin?

Noticing the sudden shock in her eyes, her attacker turned quickly giving Cress enough time to pull her hand out of the hover and pull the trigger on the taser. Two thin silver wires shot out of the device and caught the attacker right in the neck, immobilising them and causing them to drop the gun. 

Cress quickly kicked it away as they crumpled to the ground, and it slid across the paved road, spinning and spinning until it came to rest at Jacin’s feet.

Cress waved at him awkwardly— he looked too shocked to wave back, before she pressed the trigger again and the wires reeled back into her weapon. 

A small part of her was grateful that he’d walked out at just the right time but an even smaller part of her was proud he’d seen her fight and win. It probably wouldn’t change his mind about the job but it would change his mind about her. See, she wanted to say, I’m not weak, I can take care of myself. 

“Cress! Move! ” 

She dropped the taser, alarmed and looked up to see Jacin clutching the gun tightly, pointing it right beside her head. 

“What—“ she began but never finished her sentence. 

The last thing Cress remembered was the sound of glass shattering as the hover door beside her exploded and feeling a tiny needle prick the back of her neck, before her world turned dark and she passed out.

[manselllaw]

Beyond the Basics: Rethinking Paid Parental Leave in New York State in 2025

Does New York’s Paid Parental Leave Truly Deliver on Its Promises?

New York State’s Paid Parental Leave (PPL) program is widely recognized as a trailblazer in family-friendly workplace policies. But does it truly achieve its goals of equity and support for all families? While it represents progress, a deeper dive reveals areas where it falls short. It’s time to reevaluate its impact, challenge assumptions, and explore paths toward more inclusive solutions.

The Evolution of Paid Parental Leave in NYS

New York introduced its Paid Family Leave Act in 2018, a landmark policy designed to offer job-protected, paid time off for new parents, caregivers, and individuals facing family emergencies. Hailed as one of the most comprehensive leave programs in the U.S., it provided a crucial safety net for workers.

However, as other states and countries advance their policies, New York risks losing its edge. For instance, European countries offer up to a year of fully paid leave, significantly outpacing New York’s wage replacement rates.

The question is: Has New York’s progress stalled, and is it time to recalibrate?

Who Benefits Most? Rethinking Equity and Accessibility

Paid parental leave was designed to support families, but its impact is not universally felt.

Gig workers and freelancers: These workers often fall through the cracks as the program is tied to traditional employment. With the gig economy booming, this exclusion leaves a growing segment of workers unprotected.

Small Business Challenges: Small business owners struggle to balance employees’ rights to take leave with their operational demands, creating tension in smaller workplaces.

Low-Income Families: Although PPL offers partial wage replacement, it’s often not enough for low-income families living paycheck to paycheck. For these families, the financial gaps can make taking leave a challenging decision.

Who truly benefits from New York’s Paid Parental Leave? These inequities deserve closer examination.

Is parental leave really gender-neutral?

Despite intentions for gender neutrality, societal norms often dictate otherwise.

Fathers and non-birthing parents are far less likely to use PPL due to workplace stigma and ingrained cultural expectations. This disparity reinforces outdated gender roles, perpetuating the notion that caregiving is primarily a woman’s responsibility.

Can New York bridge the gap? Policies from Nordic countries, such as use-it-or-lose-it leave for fathers, could provide inspiration for fostering equal participation.

The Hidden Costs of Paid Parental Leave

While the benefits of paid parental leave are undeniable, there are hidden costs worth addressing:

Increased workloads: Colleagues often bear the brunt of covering for employees on leave, leading to resentment and burnout.

Career Penalties: Extended absences, especially for women, can result in biases in promotions, pay raises, and professional growth opportunities.

Administrative Challenges: Navigating paperwork and delays in benefit payments add stress for families during an already demanding time.

Can these trade-offs be mitigated through better employer practices and streamlined processes?

Toward a More Inclusive and Effective Policy

To make New York’s Paid Parental Leave more inclusive, bold reforms are necessary:

Expand Eligibility: Include gig workers, freelancers, and other non-traditional employees.

Encourage Gender Equity: Offer incentives for equal use of leave across genders to break stigma.

Boost Wage Replacement Rates: Increase benefits for low-income families to ensure financial security during leave.

Other regions provide valuable lessons. Nordic countries emphasize equal parental participation through innovative policies. New York has an opportunity to adapt these best practices for a fairer system.

Time for Critical Conversations

New York’s Paid Parental Leave program has made strides, but there’s room for improvement. Addressing its shortcomings can ensure it better serves families, workers, and employers alike.

How has paid parental leave impacted your life or workplace? Share your thoughts and experiences below. Together, we can advocate for a system that supports all families.

Need legal advice? Mansell Law can help.

If you’re facing challenges with employment rights or family leave policies, Mansell Law is here to assist. Our expert attorneys specialize in employment law and are dedicated to protecting your rights.

📞 Contact us today for personalized legal guidance tailored to your needs.

[khushicore]

HUMAN FORM (EXERCISE 3 DRAFT 3)

Imagining what the Human Form would be 80 years in the future

Food

Food production will integrate AI-driven vertical farms within cities, enabling year-round cultivation of algae, lab-grown proteins, and tailored micronutrient blends. Personalized meal pods will 3D-print food using real-time health data to match nutritional requirements. Urban food forests and micro-gardens will provide fresh produce in every neighborhood, significantly reducing transport emissions and waste.

Water

District-wide closed-loop water systems will collect, purify, and recycle water seamlessly, minimizing wastage. Innovations like fog-harvesting nets and water-from-air technology will turn humidity into clean water in arid regions. Smart water analyzers will empower citizens to track usage and quality, optimizing conservation practices.

Housing

Homes will be constructed with self-healing materials that repair cracks and extend the building’s lifespan. Biodiverse rooftops will serve as both insulation and habitats for pollinators, while modular interiors will adapt to changing family needs. Shared community spaces will prioritize functionality and mental well-being, fostering collaboration and connection.

Education

Education will blend virtual reality classrooms with real-world problem-solving projects, ensuring a balance of theory and application. AI tutors will provide tailored support, while multi-sensory immersive experiences will replace traditional rote learning. Empathy and cross-cultural understanding will be core subjects, creating globally connected citizens.

Healthcare

AI-powered micro-implants will continuously monitor bodily functions, providing predictive diagnostics and preventive care. Tele-health hubs within homes will deliver instant consultations and treatments, eliminating wait times. Advanced regenerative medicine will repair damaged organs, and mental health solutions will include virtual therapy spaces with AI emotional support companions.

Social Equity

Equity will be enhanced through decentralized systems that allocate resources efficiently, addressing gaps in real time. Universal access to essential services will be supported by AI equity monitors that detect bias or exclusion in policies and take corrective action. Community hubs will provide tools for skills development, entrepreneurship, and social mobility.

Gender Equality

Gender-sensitive algorithms will analyze decision-making processes across industries, ensuring inclusivity and equity. All public and private institutions will adopt universal gender-neutral facilities and policies. Representation in leadership and media will reflect the diversity of society, erasing traditional gender biases and fostering equality.

Work & Income

Work will be redefined, focusing on creativity, innovation, and societal impact. People will engage in passion-driven projects, supported by universal basic income and flexible work structures. Collaborative hubs will allow freelancers and teams to work together dynamically, while automation will handle repetitive, low-value tasks.

Energy / Electricity

Clean energy will dominate, with wireless energy transfer systems powered by fusion reactors and solar satellites. Buildings will operate as mini power plants, generating and storing their energy through solar tiles, wind walls, and kinetic technologies. AI will forecast energy demands, ensuring sustainable usage and zero wastage.

Peace & Justice

AI mediation will revolutionize conflict resolution, detecting underlying tensions and resolving them proactively. Community-driven justice models will prioritize rehabilitation and dialogue over punishment. Citizens will have access to real-time updates on laws and policies, fostering accountability and transparency in governance.

Transportation

Seamless, multi-modal transportation systems will integrate maglev trains, shared autonomous pods, and aerial drones. Roads will be replaced with green pedestrian corridors, while self-driving vehicles will reduce accidents and traffic. Efficient, low-cost public transit will make private car ownership obsolete.

Political Voice

Blockchain technology will power secure, transparent voting, enabling real-time decision-making by citizens on policies and budgets. Governments will adopt participatory governance models where community-led councils actively shape policies. AI-driven tools will eliminate lobbying influence, ensuring fair representation.

Air Pollution

Air pollution will be managed by smart bioremediation systems, such as genetically modified plants and moss walls in urban areas. Autonomous filtration drones will purify air at hotspots, and green technologies will eliminate pollution sources, making cities carbon-neutral and breathable.

Noise Pollution

Cities will incorporate soundscaping technology that redirects or neutralizes excess noise. Acoustic zoning will ensure quieter residential areas, while sound-absorbing materials in buildings and transit systems will maintain peace. Noise-free transportation and natural sound corridors will offer tranquil public spaces.

Non-Human Life

Urban planning will integrate wildlife bridges, aquatic corridors, and microhabitats for insects and small animals. AI-driven biodiversity monitors will balance urban growth with ecosystem preservation. Coexistence with non-human life will be a fundamental principle of development.

Chemical Pollution

Sustainable production methods will eliminate toxic chemicals from supply chains, while industrial processes will incorporate "green chemistry" principles. Waste treatment plants will convert pollutants into reusable resources, ensuring a circular approach to waste management.

Water Bodies & Supply

Advanced desalination technologies, powered by renewable energy, will make seawater a primary source of potable water. Floating wetlands will cleanse waterways and restore biodiversity, while AI systems will monitor water ecosystems to maintain balance and purity.

Waste Management

Circular economies will eliminate waste entirely, with AI directing materials to recycling or composting streams. Smart appliances will optimize waste segregation at the household level, and community repair hubs will extend product lifespans. Organic waste will fuel bioenergy systems, closing the loop sustainably.

Land Use, Streets & Public Spaces

Urban design will prioritize vibrant, multi-functional public spaces that double as community hubs. Streets will serve as extensions of green spaces, accommodating pedestrians, cyclists, and small autonomous vehicles. Public art installations and cultural activities will enhance urban vibrancy.

Ocean Pollution

Self-sustaining robotic fleets will continuously clean oceans, removing pollutants and plastics. AI-powered monitoring systems will prevent future pollution by regulating shipping and fishing practices. Marine reserves will expand, protecting biodiversity and replenishing aquatic ecosystems.

Effects of Climate Change

Resilient urban designs will combat rising temperatures, sea levels, and extreme weather. Reforestation, carbon capture, and soil restoration projects will help reverse environmental damage. Predictive AI will provide climate adaptation strategies, safeguarding communities worldwide.

Urban Agriculture & Greenification

Vertical gardens and urban forests will be integral to cityscapes, providing food, shade, and improved air quality. Smart sensors will optimize agricultural practices, reducing water use and maximizing yields. Public spaces will feature edible landscapes, promoting food sovereignty and community engagement.

Gender & Sexuality

Comprehensive inclusion policies will enable individuals to freely express their identities. Media, education, and workplaces will embrace and celebrate diverse perspectives, creating a culture of acceptance and belonging. Healthcare will address gender-specific needs with sensitivity and precision.

Diversity & Inclusion

AI-driven policies will eliminate biases in recruitment, education, and governance, ensuring diverse representation at all levels. Cultural festivals and public forums will celebrate differences, fostering a shared sense of humanity and respect for all.

Accessibility

Cities will adopt universal design principles, ensuring accessibility for people of all abilities. AI-powered assistance systems will enable seamless navigation, while sensory-friendly environments will accommodate diverse needs. Inclusivity will be ingrained in all public and private infrastructure.

Sustainability

Regenerative practices will redefine industries, with circular economies prioritizing zero waste and zero emissions. Collaboration between nations will ensure sustainable development goals are met, balancing progress with planetary health.

[miatav]

The Ultimate Portable Pickleball Net System: A Heavy-Duty Aluminum Solution

Pickleball, the fastest-growing sport in America, is taking the world by storm. Whether you're a seasoned pro or a casual player, having a reliable and portable pickleball net system can elevate your game and make it easier to enjoy the sport anytime, anywhere.

Why Choose a Portable Pickleball Net System?

Flexibility and Convenience: Portable pickleball net systems offer unparalleled flexibility. You can set up a court in your backyard, at a local park, or even on a beach. No more relying on public courts or waiting for availability.

Easy Storage and Transport: These systems are designed for easy storage and transport. When you're done playing, simply break down the net and store it in the included carrying bag.

Cost-Effective Solution: While building a permanent pickleball court can be a significant investment, a portable net system is a more affordable option that allows you to enjoy the sport without breaking the bank.

The Benefits of an Aluminum Frame

Aluminum is the ideal material for a portable pickleball net system. It offers several advantages over other materials:

Durability and Longevity: Aluminum is a strong and durable material that can withstand the rigors of outdoor use. It's resistant to rust and corrosion, ensuring a long lifespan.

Weather Resistance: Aluminum is unaffected by rain, snow, and extreme temperatures. You can leave your net system outdoors without worrying about damage.

Lightweight and Easy to Assemble: Aluminum is lightweight, making it easy to transport and assemble. You can set up your net system in minutes, without the need for heavy lifting or complicated tools.

Key Features to Look for in a Portable Pickleball Net System

When choosing a portable pickleball net system, consider the following features:

Net Height and Tension: Ensure the net is the correct height and has adjustable tension to meet official pickleball regulations.

Pole Diameter and Stability: Look for poles with a sufficient diameter to provide stability and prevent wobbling.

Wheel and Handle Design: A well-designed wheel and handle system will make transporting your net system effortless.

Storage Bag and Accessories: A sturdy storage bag and additional accessories, such as ground anchors and net clips, can enhance your playing experience.

How to Set Up Your Portable Pickleball Net System

Setting up a portable pickleball net system is a straightforward process:

Choose a suitable location: Select a flat, level surface that is free of debris and obstacles.

Assemble the poles: Connect the poles together according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Attach the net: Attach the net to the poles using the provided clips or hooks.

Adjust the net height: Ensure the net is at the correct height and tension.

Secure the poles: Use the ground anchors to secure the poles to the ground, especially in windy conditions.

Tips for Maintaining Your Portable Pickleball Net System

To keep your portable pickleball net system in top condition, follow these tips:

Clean the net regularly: Remove dirt and debris from the net using a soft brush or cloth.

Check the poles for damage: Inspect the poles for any signs of damage or wear and tear.

Store the net properly: Store the net in a cool, dry place when not in use.

Lubricate the moving parts: Regularly lubricate the hinges and other moving parts to ensure smooth operation.

Frequently Asked Questions

How long does it take to set up a portable pickleball net system? Most portable pickleball net systems can be set up in 15-20 minutes.

Can I use a portable pickleball net system indoors? While portable net systems are primarily designed for outdoor use, some models can be adapted for indoor use.

How often should I replace the net? The lifespan of a pickleball net depends on usage and weather conditions. Most nets will last for several years with proper care.

What is the best way to store a portable pickleball net system? Store your net system in a cool, dry place, preferably in its storage bag.

Can I use a tennis net for pickleball? While a tennis net can be used for pickleball, it's not ideal. A pickleball net is shorter and has a smaller mesh size to accommodate the faster pace of the game.