#That has to be against confidentiality and stuff right???

[doomdoomofdoom]

if i ever found out my therapist was feeding my data into a fucking AI to document and evaluate my progress, i am getting a new therapist.

in prison.

where i will be for second degree murder.

[alienpossession]

Skillful Masseuse

A gift for @mindmelter

"How does he feel? All good inside of him?"

"Man.....you really did some number down there. Fuck, my mind feels foggy, I think you really managed to squeezed out every last bit of him that I don't want to consume,"

"Yeah well, practice makes perfect. You are like....what, my 78th guy or something? It's unacceptable if I cannot empty a guy consistently by the time I reached the 50th guy. Ah, yeah, the 50th guy, that was the biggest one, and the one giving me the toughest fight,"

"Well, entertain me while I recover then. Tell the story,"

"Oh, okay. So, it's this guy named Tamir. A big tank of a guy, Russian or something along those lines. As you know, I never started from the face for direct takeover rightaway, I started it as a real massage to lower their guard down. But of course I lathered your kind all over the body so you guys can scan the body first and absorb all the muscle memory while numbing it to the point of temporary paralysis. I think he noticed something is wrong right away because he immediately grunted

"Grrr.....why the fuck...uhhh... your oil is so fucking cold??? This is like...ffhhhuuuhh.... fucking frost bite,"

"It's what makes it special, just calm down sir. This will start to feel real good soon," I said to him back then to calm him down.

Yes he eventually calmed down, but moments later, when I lathered your kind on his neck, he started to tremble as he realized that his whole body already stiffened.

It was too late, of course, and soon I witnessed the whole liquid merged into one form and moved upward. Imagine my surprise when he flailed like a fish getting captured, his body trembled violently I thought it would snap in half and he even fell from the massage board! I legit thought your kind failed to tame him, I almost sprayed an entire bottle to his face out of panic. But luckily, he dropped back to the floor like a log as your kind rolled into his wide-open mouth. Of course he then proceeded to gave me the harshest fuck I ever received, I was unable to walk normally for 4 days and have to cancel some appointment because of that. He, being inside a shady businessman, just chuckled when I confronted him about my injury and simply thrown me 20,000 dollar as if it was nothing

"Just shut up and keep on converting, whore. You're not going to talk back to my kind as if we did not pay you back way better than what you serviced us," he said to me

"Wow, that's rude," lamented the latest client, towel already dropped to the floor

"Yeah, very. But he humiliated me further when he pointed out about my raging hard-on,"

"HAHAHAHAHAH, you got hard from all that? Man, that's on you! Me, if I got disrespected like that, oh I wouldn't let that slide,"

"Well, I did inform the most senior out of all of you for the 50th guy verbal insult. Let's just say, he got punished properly for crossing the line against me,"

"Oh fuck......what happened?"

"Oh, you'll know by yourself later. Your kind love to tell stories and gather around in country clubs etc. acting like you are talking about big business stuff when you are all just in fact sharing sex stories and scandals of your own kind. My message is, just don't be a dick to me and you'll be fine,"

"But I can put a dick inside of you, and I'll be totally fine, right?" smirked the taken over scientist, his cock elongated to a decent 7 incher and throbbed excitedly

"How else you guys would pay me after all?" Andrew said with a smirk, the fateful encounter earlier this year really turned everything around for him

----

Andrew has been a masseuse for the past 2 years, but his clientele remained small and he required an extra job just to stay afloat, especially with the cost of living that skyrocketed. Of course he would never expect that somehow his massage oil package got tainted by a mad scientist with a confidential project currently worked on by NASA.

Surprised to see the ripped package in his front porch after his day job, plus the fact that he got an appointment later that evening with no more oil left, Andrew decided not to complain or requesting refund about the opened packages.

Everything went per usual. The client, named Zaid, is a regular, so he casually just stripped to his underwear and let Andrew worked his way. Just imagine Andrew's surprise when his client that seemed fine for the earlier part of the massage suddenly started to speak about the stiffness all over his body.

Andrew checked the bottle of the oil and the expiry still lasted for some times, so this is not the oil issue. Is it his movement, then? When he started to get frantic, his surprise doubled when a translucent, viper-like creature the size of a pencil hovered right below Zaid's lips. That viper-like creature, within seconds, then jabbed itself into Zaid's nose and that made him yelled in pain. That's when the creature split into two and infiltrated Zaid from both his mouth and his nose. It all happened so quickly, Andrew didn't even manage to scream as he just froze in his place, thinking that his client just died under his watch caused by some kind of freak creature. But everything turned out to be far from over as the once-screaming-and-writhing Zaid calmed himself down before opening his eyes. That's when Zaid then said

"Hello, human. Nice to meet you,"

And of course Andrew passed out

He woke up with the morning light already entered the apartment, only to realize that he's no longer in his apartment and Zaid is walking around shirtless

"Oh hey there you, finally, you wake up!"

"Oh God, Zaid, are you okay? Your body no longer feel stiff? What about that creat---"

"Pssst.....stop that. Here, let me show you what I've learned while you fell asleep,"

And that afternoon, not only Zaid shared about all his findings, he also revealed that the he's actually no longer Zaid, as the viper-like creature is already in control of his body. It explained its origin, the test NASA conducted on them and the experimentation they conducted, the mechanics on the takeover, and how Zaid already take the decision to uproot Andrew from his flat and take the masseuse under his wing

"Zaid here got plenty of friends that can be used for my kind. Will you kindly help us?"

And so, the takeover spree started. The easiest one? Zaid's roommate who was surprised when Zaid revealed that they would have additional occupant in the apartment. When the roomie protested, Zaid just sprayed him with the oil right on his face as it then stiffened moments later.

"This makes for a quick takeover, but I find it not as hot as when you unknowingly rubbed my kind all over the human body. I want you to use that skillful hand of yours and give those oblivious human the most pleasure possible before they realized how fucked they are,"

His taken over roomie quickly agreed,

"I have to rub one out before finally feeling this good. So, stick to your method and ensure all our kind received this Earth-shattering entrance as they ride on that orgasmic wave of pushing over the last remnant of the original owner of the bodies, okay? Melt their mind into cum!"

That's exactly what Andrew did ever since. With Zaid and his roommie giving rave reviews about Andrew, soon, Andrew's clientele grew massively. It reached stratospheric high he never dared to dream before thanks to the alien-converted men that endorsed him despite Andrew's so-so massaging skill. But, practice indeed makes perfect and Andrew indeed gets better at his craft with more clients handled by him as his hands methodically kneading, cupping and applying pressure with his special oil all over the body of his clients.

When they got too comfortable and their bodies already numb, that's when the alien strikes and mere minutes later, a brand new entity is in possession of the fine studs. Have they ever seen it coming? Up until now, none, never, not once, based on the memory reading of the possessed. All of them too relaxed to even put up a fight, not even the strongest man can get out from the trap and most of them even thought that the massage was that good, their body turned hella weak.

With still a bottle left, Andrew is about to finish his duty helping the alien. But it's not like the alien ever thinking to dispose him. Instead, the alien wanted to introduce Andrew to their savior. Based on their latest intel, the scientist is alive but he's in hiding as countless government organization is on the lookout for him and also still searching where the heck the scientist disposed the last surviving bits of the alien samples. Of course they will never suspect the alien samples to be poured into 5 different bottle of massage oil in a random New Mexico's suburb.

[coryosbaby]

Pls write more Hoffman stuff T-T I’ve been reading it repeatedly for the past couple of days along with your Adam stuff. I’m gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. I love your writing <3

𝒞𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓀 + 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒽𝓂 ♡

Cw: nsfw . Slight dubcon towards the end, cockwarming, p n v, exhibitionism, daddy kink, age gap, threeway, creampie

A/N: u ask u shall receive 🙏🏻 this is Hoffman & strahm + maybe a lil hint of Daniel Rigg but I’ll be writing more of just Hoffman soon if that’s what u prefer 🩷

The days spent in Mark’s office can either be incredibly boring and painful, or incredibly fun and painful.

And on this day, as his hard cock slides itself inside of you, you decide it’s going to be a fun but painful day— quivering, you let out a small whine as he fills you up in his desk chair. His cock, thick and long, is causing an ache and burn in your core. But how could you care when you’ve been wet for him all day?

Mark is barely paying mind to you; being a detective means having a lot of paperwork, and that he must finish today. But that doesn’t mean he can’t squeeze in a little time for you, right?

“Daddy..” you mumble, adjusting the ends of your skirt. He had just slid right in, with absolutely no warning at all! He was so mean sometimes. Batting your eyelashes, trying to get him to look at you, you add, “Cmon, why do you just fuck me?”

“Quiet.” He grunts. He’s flipping through a page from a case file. Although it’s confidential, he never minds letting you see the cases he works on. You’ve kept worser secrets for him, after all. “Keep yourself occupied, why don’t you?”

Oh, that’s rich coming from the man holding you down on his dick. You pout, crossing your arms across your chest. You purposely squirm on his lap, then. He exhales sharply, as you clench your walls on him.

And just then, a knock sounds.

Your face becomes bright red, and you’re quick to try and get off of Mark’s lap. But he tsks, holding you down with both hands and keeping you in place. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Come in,” Mark states.

And of course, the person who opens the door is Peter Strahm— someone you’ve grown to dislike since you heard him whisper something about the “young piece of ass” Hoffman had laying around in his office every day. You were quite offended by that statement, even though Peter has grown to be— in your opinion— too nice to you.

“Hoffman,” he says, trying to avert his gaze from your flushed face. You pray that he can’t see Mark’s unbuttoned pants and your pussy wrapped around him. “I need to talk to you… alone.”

Mark rolls his eyes, pushing his hips up. Letting out a tiny gasp, you can feel his cock sliding against your walls— and with shame, you try not to pay attention to the way your cunt gets slicker at the thought of Peter catching you being such a whore.

“You can say it here, Strahm.” He pats your hip, ruffling your skirt. “I can assure you, her pretty little head is empty right now.”

You should be offended, but really, you can’t think. Peter’s sleeves are rolled up today, his arms and hands exposed and— fuck, why do you want them to touch you?

“It’s about the Jigsaw case,” Strahm presses. His eyes land on yours again, and he watches the expanse of your legs. Your face flushes furiously, and you feel a drop of slick begin to run down your inner thigh.

Shit.

“And?” Mark teases. “It doesn’t matter to her. What is it?”

“It’s..”

Peter’s eyes are on your tits, your thighs quivering. You bite your lower lip, and you can’t help but let a fuzzy feeling take over you as he watches you.

“Cat got your tongue, Strahm?”

Mark smirks, and when he grabs your hips and pushes you further down on him, you can’t help it— you let out a moan, a desperate and sex crazed moan.

Peter doesn’t even know what to do or say— just stands there, his mouth open and a tent forming in his jeans. Mark continues to bounce you up and down on him.

“No—“ you whimper. “Mark! Peter, ‘m so sorry—“

“Fuck..” Peter whispers.

“You want a piece of her?” Mark chuckles, lifting up your skirt. Your cunt is exposed, all creamy and wet, little clit throbbing. You begin to rock your hips back onto your boyfriends hard length. “She wants you to fuck her. Don’t you, angel?”

You can’t help but nod, watching as Peters hand goes down to palm his crotch. He looks at you with a hungry stare.

Mark lifts you up with his strong arms, getting out of the chair and dragging you to the front of his desk. He slips out of you, pushing your body down onto the hardwood. Your cheek presses against a stack of papers as Mark spreads your legs with one of his feet. He lifts up your skirt, revealing your aching cunt for Peter to see.

“Cmon, Strahm,” Mark urges. “Don’t you wanna fuck her pussy? She’s so tight, so warm…”

And fuck, as wrong as it is Strahm is practically hypnotized by the sight of your gaping hole clenching around nothing. It needs something to fill it so bad, he thinks.

Fuck it. He stalks over, gives Mark a little shove to get out of his way. He unbuckles his belt. Mark begins stroking his cock at the sight of your doe eyes looking up at him. Peter pulls his throbbing length out of his pants, and rubs it up against you. You feel like heaven— and when he pushes into your hole, presses his balls firm against your ass, his eyes almost roll back into his head. It’s been a while since he’s fucked such a young, tight pussy.

“Oh—“

You whine as he pulls out and pushes right back in, incredibly hard. His skin smacks against yours as he begins to pound you against the desk.

Mark, chuckling, pats your cheek with his palm.

“That’s my girl.”

He’s stroking his cock over your face now, and Peter groans and spreads your asscheeks apart to get a better view of you.

“Been keepin’ this sweet thing from me all this time, Hoffman?”

His differences with the other man seemed to be forgotten because of your warm, wet cunt.

“Would’ve let you fuck her sooner if you weren’t such a prick.” Mark replies, and grunts when the tip of his cock hits your lips. “Don’t cum inside her. That’s something only I can do.”

Strahm huffs, displeased, but doesn’t say anything. He listens to your whimpers and moans. His mouth begins running, spewing harsh words to you as his cock moves in and out of your slick folds.

“Such a slutty little girl.”

“God, baby, are all the men you fuck always twice your age?”

“Knew you were a filthy whore the moment I saw you walk into big man’s office. Shit, yeah, clench like that again, bitch.”

Although Mark should be angry at these remarks, he knows it’s just a way to break you down on Strahm’s cock. He knows that you love being degraded and used.

It’s not long before Mark’s length fills your mouth, and as you swallow him down your throat Peter begins to rub your clit in harsh circles. Choking on Mark’s cock and squeezing your walls around Peter, your orgasm washes over you in harsh waves. You spasm against the both of them, your release dripping onto Peter’s thighs.

Peter is close, too, and he can feel it. Pulling himself out of you is probably the hardest thing he’s ever forced himself to do— and this even includes when he had to stick a metal straw in his neck because he almost drowned to death. He rubs himself against your lower back, letting out a small, “fuck yes, baby, such a good whore for daddy,” As he spills thick ropes all over the tramp stamp adorning your skin. He relaxes against you for a moment, then pulls away and tucks himself back into his pants. He nods at mark, then murmurs a small, “thanks, honey.” To you as he approaches the door and makes his way out. Mark pulls himself out of your mouth and makes his way over to your quivering form.

“Okay?” He murmurs softly.

You nod, head empty and hole clenching as Mark lines himself up. Much thicker than Strahm, he adds a harsh sting to the mix of your overstimulated cunt once again. He thrusts in and out of you at a harsh pace, his cock practically ripping you in half as it pummels your guts. You can feel that neediness coming back, that urge to cream all over a cock again.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl. “Please. Please, I need it..”

“Yeah?” He says harshly. His fingers dip into your hips, watching the puddle of cum forming at the base of your lower back. “What if I called the whole office in here, huh? Two cocks not enough for this greedy cunt? Maybe you need to be smothered by another detectives pussy. Maybe you need another fat cock to split you in half…”

And Jesus, Mark’s filthy fucking mouth has you squirming and aching for another orgasm. He grabs your throat with one of his strong hands, bending your body back towards him. Strahm’s spend leaks down in between your ass cheeks and smears all over Mark’s lower stomach, leaving white strings stuck between your body and his, but he doesn’t care. Chasing his release, the mess adds to the amount of pleasure coursing through him.

Your fingers move up to hold onto his hand, as a way to loosen his grip. But you know he won’t let up— once Mark is set on a brutal pace with you, he always has to have his hands around your neck. His cock is bruising, kissing your cervix in just the right way and —

Oh.

Your eyes now, have averted to the office window. A breath of air leaves you as you realize that the blinds, ever always closed, are now open.

You try to get Mark’s attention— try to find a way to get him to let up so the window can be covered again. Thankfully, no one has walked by. It’s an empty hallway. But anyone could be willing…

“Mark,” you wheeze. His eyes flit to where you’re eyes are focused. To your surprise, the man doesn’t stop fucking you— in fact, his thrusts only seem to increase. His smell evades your senses, all cologne and herbal soap and laundry detergent, and you feel fucking dizzy.

And then, a shadow crosses that hallway. A familiar figure, with a stack of papers in his hands.

Daniel Rigg.

There, walking right across the office window. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, his body freezes midway, and he turns to look at the both of you.

Eyes filling with tears , you can’t do anything but take Mark’s cock and watch the man. And slowly, you recounted that you hadn’t seen Strahm when he had left the room— hadn’t seen him pull on the string of the blinds. Hadn’t seen Mark’s small smirk when he saw them being opened.

“Looks like we have an audience.” Mark teases.

You notice the tent forming in Detective Rigg’s pants, and your eyes flit down. He begins to stutter on his movements, and the papers in his hand drop to the ground. He shuffles, quickly picking them back up. And, with embarrassment and an urge to stroke his now hard cock, he begins to walk, fast, away from the scene.

Those motherfuckers.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[differentclasss]

Domesticity ♡ Jonathan Crane (smut)

pairing: Jonathan Crane (Nolan Verse) x Reader

summary: Jonathan really wants to get you pregnant, it takes a little convincing for you to take it seriously.

warnings: somewhat possessive behavior from Crane, talk of pregnancy, smut, female reader, just the usual stuff! also, it's not really a warning, but its a pretty simple fluff-smut fic. It's kind of out of character lol.

a/n: sorry for not posting very often, i've been doing really important stuff and definitely not just rewatching the Sopranos again... anyways, I'll probably start posting again since I'm out of a creative funk and have like a million drafts in my docs right now. thanks!

word count: 1.7k

It was soft and gray outside by the time Jonathan got home. The sky was full of clouds and the house was quiet. He put down his briefcase and untied his shoes as he walked into the quiet apartment he shared with you. He could feel this distinct sense of neediness for you he’s become accustomed to when he has a long day. Something was comforting about you, something he couldn’t place his finger on, but you made him happy. It was what most would consider love, but for him, it was all too new for him to name it. 

You were laying on your stomach with your elbows perched on the mattress of your soft bed as you read some book Jonathan had recommended to you. You wouldn’t have noticed Jonathan had returned if he hadn’t dragged your attention from the book laid out in front of you by clearing his throat as he walked into your shared bedroom. You looked up at him with that same doting smile you had whenever you saw him and made your way to him. He glanced over at you as he began to take off his tie but your hands quickly replaced his.

“Wait,” You said as you stood in front of him. “Let me do it.” 

“Whatever you want.” He replied as if he was doing you a favor.

Truth be told, he liked your desire to do small things for him. There were little things you did that meant you cared about him, despite how cold and cranky he could be occasionally. He would find his glasses cleaned after going to shower or you would get his favorite suits dry cleaned without him even saying anything about it. All those little acts of domesticity he admired in private. He had his acts of fondness as well, he’d stop and pick you up a small treat on his way home and sometimes if he was feeling especially romantic, he would place a vase and flowers out on the kitchen table for you. There were plenty of silent acts of a proper home life that you both devoted time to. 

“How was work?” You asked him once you finished taking off his tie and placed it on the dresser.

“It was fine.” He said before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

He hated talking about work with you, it was better to keep it vague and short. Anytime you prodded for more detailed responses he would brush it out with a simple, ‘patient confidentiality.’ 

“I missed you today.” You softly murmured as you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest.

“Likewise.” He said while slowly caressing your hair.

It was easy for him to just think about you during these moments, with your warmth enrapturing him in a spiderweb of affection. He could put off his alter ego for a night of your intimacy and during these nights, he often thought about how easy it would be just to enjoy you and enjoy the life you could have together. Seeing you so sweet on him made him want to keep you like this forever, something more binding than just living together.

“Thought about you all day.” He softly murmured against your neck as he pulled you over top of him on the bed. 

“Yeah?” You asked with a teasing smile. “What in particular?” You asked.

“Thought about you just like this,” He replied, pulling you closer till there was practically no room between you, chest to chest. “You look so pretty.” He added.

You loved his praise, even the simplest of words made you get butterflies like how you did when you first met him. Knowing he was known as cold and bitter to most made it all the more special to hear him speak so fondly of you. You kissed the side of his neck and let out a content sigh as his hands slipped underneath your shirt and fondled your breasts for a moment. You let your neck fall back as he began to kiss the side of your neck and worked his way to your jaw. His teeth sunk suddenly into your jaw which caused you to hiss.

“I was thinking about another thing too,” He added as he pulled away for a moment. “I kept on thinking about how much prettier you’d look with my come in you.” He mumbled the last bit and it made you blush deeply.

“Jon,” You said with a small smile, your hand grazing his cheek. “We’re not married yet, you already wanna knock me up?”

“Don’t be so old-fashioned,” He said as he quickly maneuvered your body to be under his. “It’s just an idea.” He replied as he buried his face into your neck and began to kiss it with a certain amount of passion.

“I’m not against it.” You said quietly as your hands ran down his shoulders. “Just… Are you serious? That’s a big step for us.”

“Of course, I’m being serious.” He says as he pulls from your neck and gazes at you. “I gave myself a hard-on today just thinking about what’d it be like to see you pregnant with my kid.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the declaration. You always had figured he wasn’t one to even think about settling down, that just didn’t seem like him at all, but here he was, talking about having a child with you. 

“Never thought I would hear you say something so affectionate.” You giggled and kissed his cheek.

“Can’t help myself.” He murmured as he kissed your lips and then pulled back. “Maybe I just want to marry you and get you pregnant. Have you here taking care of our kid and being a good little mother.”

He kissed you harder than before, clearly getting worked up over the thought of you as a mother. You didn’t mind the thought he had. It made you feel desired beyond just sexual attraction, to want to procreate meant something deeper than moving in with each other or having a pair of his shoes next to yours in the closet. 

“Do you want me to dress up in a pin-up dress and wear pearls too?” You asked with a giggle, to which he bit your lip for.

“Don’t tease.” He reprimanded. 

Based on his growing erection, he probably did want you to wear the dress and kitten heels, maybe not all the time but just to take it off. Jonathan got needier as he felt you through your clothes. He took your shorts off and discarded them carelessly before rubbing you through your panties. You grunted and pushed your hips to his hands. 

“You do want it,” Jonathan mused as he felt your soaked panties. “You just wanna be a housewife with your cunt full of my come, hm?” 

“Jonathan,” You mewled. “Just wanna make you happy.”

“You are making me happy,” He said with a small grin as he slipped his hands underneath the seam of your panties and pumped two fingers into you quickly. “It would make me a lot happier to see you nice and pregnant though.”

Jonathan loved how he barely had to touch you to get you into a whimpering mess underneath him. Your face always flushed into a pretty shade of red and your hands held onto him tightly whenever he gave you his fingers. Little moans and whines escaped your lips, no matter how hard you tried to conceal them. His hands left you for a moment as he took off his belt and then took off your shirt, making another short moan of neediness escape your lips.

“Can I come in you tonight?” He asked as he touched the bottom of your stomach, already imagining a phantom bump. “You’d make a great mother.”

Frantically you nodded, hands falling to his chest and pulling off his shirt. He worked on his pants and tossed them to the floor. You kissed him swiftly once he was as bare as you were and felt him hold your leg by the back of your knee as he teased you with more small pumps of his fingers. 

“Tell me you want it as bad as I do, sweetheart.” He told you in a hushed voice. 

“I want it,” You replied in a whisper. “Wanna have your baby.”

He didn’t need much confirmation after that. Hastily he moved your legs over his shoulders, knowing this position would let him get deep inside of you. Jonathan lined himself up and slowly filled your cunt up with his cock. You quickly inhaled and grabbed his shoulders for some support as he rocked into you. You moaned and felt tears in your eyes from the pressure in your cunt. He sneaked his hand to clit and rubbed it quickly, making everything seem a tad overwhelming. With your orgasm building sharply, you closed your eyes tightly as your cunt clenched around him, making both of you shiver. His hand kept circling your clit making feel more than overwhelmed at this point.

“That’s it,” He grunted from over the top of you. “Gonna make you a mommy, make you full.”

You inhaled in response, his hips coming down into you faster and faster. A few curses tumbled from your lips as another orgasm approached. Sweat began to form at your temple and once the separate orgasm came and went, your legs trembled.

“I’m so close,” He warned you in a hoarse voice. “Fuck, just gonna fill you up with my come and make you mine completely.”

You were too overstimulated to really hear what he was saying, everything blurred together at that moment. He gave you a few more unforgiving thrusts and then came inside of you, holding himself still for a moment to keep it all there. You caught your breaths together and kissed you on the forehead.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he lifted off of you and laid down beside you. 

You smiled and then gave him a small kiss on the lips and went to the bathroom, feeling a bit shaky but strangely content with this new declaration. After you cleaned up you went and laid back down with him. He seemed miles away again, eyes fixed on the drawn blinds of your window. You couldn’t tell if he was feeling guilt or maybe a tinge of worry after all of that but you just nestled your head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

[sysmedsaresexist]

So have you talked about Colin Ross abusing and traumatizing his patients, or him believing he can shoot beams of energy out of his eyeballs, or any of that stuff or did i miss those posts or what

I did :) keep looking, I'm sure you're almost there

In all seriousness, no one is saying he's a saint or unproblematic, but him believing he can shoot lasers doesn't exactly affect the results of fmris or the readings of other clinicians in the studies compiling results

I mean, unless he shot the lasers right into the machine

That might skew the results a bit

But if you're going to dismiss Ross, you also have to dismiss van der Hart, Braun (RIP???), Poznanski, and all of the other psychotherapy clinicians involved in 15-20% of yearly medical malpractice lawsuits (statistics in these areas are horrible to wade through).

Malpractice lawsuits are a fact of life in the medical field and that's why every doctor is legally required to have insurance. It's estimated that by the age of 65 years, 75% of physicians in low-risk specialties had faced a malpractice claim (this includes psychiatry), as compared with 99% of physicians in high-risk specialties (surgeons and the like). At least 10% of an average 40 year career is spent with an open lawsuit on file. 96% of medical malpractice cases are settled out of court, without you ever knowing they happened. Your family/general doctor has more than likely been sued before, and you have zero idea. Of the cases that go to court, over 55% are dismissed. Of the remainder, over 70% are awarded to the physician. These numbers are terrifying. Not only are the number of frivolous lawsuits incredibly high, the fact that so few cases are won by the patient is just depressing.

Based on the above, like 1 case out of roughly 3,500 yearly malpractice suits against therapists will succeed in court.

(The above numbers are US based)

To reiterate, over half of those cases never go to court and you don't know they happened, because at that point, insurance companies prefer to just make things go away with money, whether it's valid or not.

How many can't afford to sue?

These cases range from therapists oversharing, bad note taking, confidentiality concerns, sexual relationships, business relationships, misdiagnosis, prescription management, lack of training in techniques, disagreements, and any number of other things. More often than not, malpractice suits aren't for emotional damage, but procedural and ethical issues.

The more well-known you are, the harder the cases you take, the more likely you are to be sued. I don't actually know of a case where Ross was the sole named physician, usually there's 3 or 4 named and Ross has only made it to the settlement stage once, though we can't see what part he played or if he was held responsible over the other physicians. I don't think he was ever named as the primary physician, meaning he came into these cases after another doctor had made the diagnosis.

How would you feel if every doctor decided to reassess you themselves rather than trust another diagnosing physician? This is a real question that matters. It's not rhetorical. I'm not defending Ross, either, but I'd be pretty frustrated by the third round of testing. Multiple diagnosing clinicians just isn't always feasible, and yes, it leads to errors. But that's not just psychiatry.

I don't really know what to say to this ask. No one is denying he's got problems, but can those problems be directly tied to the research and did they skew results? Where do we draw the line to decide who's officially useless as a clinician (people like Hart) and who's just getting sued in a normal daily event?

Can we talk about the laser beam thing for a second, though?

Colin Ross has an eyebeam of energy he'd like you to hear

Ross applied to the James Randi Educational Foundation’s One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge

Ross's basic claim is that with the aid of special goggles he’s assembled using a blue Aqua Sphere swim mask, electrical wiring and, naturally, scraps of tin foil, he can harness the energy from his eyes and use the energy to play a tone on a computer. He describes it like an on-off switch. And he plans to use the technology he’ll develop to add receptors to such devices as iPods and light switches, allowing folks to turn them on or off using our eyebeams.

He won an award. A Pigasus. I think this is hilarious.

The Pigasus Award is given each year, “To the scientist or academic who said or did the silliest thing related to the supernatural, paranormal or occult.” Dr. Ross’ 2009 Pigasus Award stems from his ability to focus his own electromagnetic field to send a beam of energy from his eyes and make a tone sound out of a speaker. He has applied to the One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge administered by the JREF.

The JREF has ridiculed Dr. Ross since he filed his challenge application. James Randi wrote on his web page: “You think you’ve seen every sort of claim that could be thrown at the JREF…. Most have been preposterous, silly, irrational, and/or astonishing. Now we have one that is all of those…Dr. Colin A. Ross.”

“I am not the first unconventional thinker who has had to endure the snickering of cynics and skeptics, so I happily accept this recognition,” said Dr. Ross. “Every significant scientific advance faces resistance, but it is time that the JREF stop ridiculing me and tests the protocol.”

I don't know where I'm going with all this, it's just food for thought, context. Nothing is ever quite so black and white, even eye lasers, and sometimes you keep the bathwater and toss the evil baby.

It's hard, it's a balance. Do we say you can't trust the ToSD because of Hart? Can bad people still make reliable resources? As much as it sucks, I think some research is still valuable, and we need to teach people how to critically examine methods and conclusions to decide if the research has merit, not just decide based on whose name is first in the authors list.

[starwarsanthropology]

Heyyy~

Can I ask for OrdoMaze with 43? :3

The stark, neon lighting of the Coursucant night-cycle is an abrupt shift from the muted golden lights in the bar as Ordo slips out to follow after Maze, a few minutes after he leaves. Just enough lag between exits to keep Kal’buir and the RCs off of them. 

He tracks Maze via his comm’s location tag a few blocks over to a quiet, back alley speeder platform about ten feet above street level. Maze is sitting on the edge of it, leaning on crossed arms against the low bumper rail. 

“Null.” He says, looking over Ordo appraisingly.

“Alpha,” Ordo replies, and then clambers up a drainage pipe to join him.

Maze snorts gently when a screw pings out of the wall, too much weight put on the bracket holding the pipe secure, and Ordo glares at him as he grabs the edge of the balcony to haul himself up and over. The duracrete has a slightly tacky, powdery feel, a decade’s worth of emissions building up into sediment that feels somehow grimier than actual dirt on Ordo’s bare palms. He tries to wipe them off on his kama once he’s seated next to Maze, and then scowls and pulls out a wipe when that doesn’t work.

Maze just watches him, quiet, and then once he stuffs the wipe back into a belt pouch to throw out later, he leans his warm bulk against Ordo’s side. Coruscant doesn’t have much in the way of natural weather patterns, as climate-controlled as it is, but this close to a major skyroad, the vehicles send strong, cutting winds whistling through the buildings. In his armor, Maze feels like a bulwark. Stable, safe. Somewhere nice to hunker down until he has to move on to the next objective.

“So, Besany?” Maze asks, and Ordo checks him lightly with his shoulder. “She’s a good one.”

“Mm. Kal’buir is very eager about us.” Ordo says. “He doesn’t realize that she’s not romantically interested in men.”

Maze laughs, startled. “He’s not very good with people, is he?”

“He’s great with them when it matters.”

“He thinks Besany is flirting with you instead of trying to adopt you like you’re a feral tooka she found dropping presents on her doorstep.” 

Ordo doesn’t have anything else to say, and appearantly neither does Maze, so they spend a long while simply leaning against each other and watching the debris of a city of trillions get buffeted around in the breeze.

“Maze?” Ordo says, eventually. “How good are you for getting read into something confidential? Off the record.”

Maze looks him over, considering. “Is breaking opsec going to compromise anything?”

“No. Only reputations.”

Maze perks up at that. He’s such a gossip, really. All the Alphas are; nosy bastards to their cores, trained to keep track of all their subordinates like mother hens. 

“Read me in, Ord’ika.” He says, and Ordo is almost ashamed when he opens his mouth and the words spill out.

“General Tur-makan got herself pregnant.”

“No.” Maze gasps, scandalized. 

“Mmhm. Kal’buir is furious about it. Maybe would have killed her if it wasn’t for the fact she’s carrying.” 

“Who’s the father?”

Ordo closes his eyes and takes a deep, centering breath. “Darman.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“Don’t think so.”

“That’s karked.” Maze says, awed. 

“Yeah. Kal’buir is shipping her off to Quiilura to wait it out.” Ordo shuffles closer to Maze, who rocks just enough to bump their shoulders before leaning back into him.

“You should tell Dar. Not when it could compromise him, but it’s his to know.”

“Kal’buir is handling it.”

“Skirata is a poor judge of when to share intel. There’s a reason he’s only a sergeant.”

Ordo, suddenly furious, both at Maze for throwing that in his face, and himself, for taking foolish initiative to confide in him, snarls and snaps his fist into Maze’s face. “That’s my father.”

Maze groans from his position knocked flat on his back on the speeder platform, and then snaps upright to slam his forehead right into Ordo’s nose.

Ordo makes a furious, inarticulate noise, hand flying to his face, and Maze just looks him in the eye, steady and calm and ready to drop everything for a fight.

“I’m right. I’m smarter than him. You’re smarter than him. We’re bred to be.”

The bridge of Ordo’s nose aches fiercely, and his nose is gushing after so many strikes to the face in short succession. He pinches it to slow the flow and leans forwards, breathing through his mouth and watching Maze out the corner of his eye. Maze’s nose is bleeding, too, but it’s just a single fat drop slowly traveling down his lip. It shimmers in the light as his breath makes it quiver; Maze’s nose wrinkles up at the ticklish sensation and he wipes it with a knuckle. Ordo is caught by the sight of blood smeared on his lover’s hands and face, almost invisible in the lighting except for how it leaves a damp, shiny smear over his skin. He wants to lick it off. He wants there to be more. He wants, he wants. He doesn’t know what he wants, but it sharpens his teeth and sends off a round of howling hunger in his gut.

He tamps down the feeling.

“I’ll tell Dar, if Kal’buir takes too long.” He concedes, slightly nasal through his bloody nose, and Maze smiles at him, irritated expression melting into something warm and fond. Ordo wants to choke him.

“Good boy, Ord’ika,” Maze says, and instead of choking him, it’s Ordo who chokes on his outrage as Maze tilts up his chin and kisses him, ignoring the blood dripping down his face and into their mouths. He bites him in retaliation, hard enough to split his lip and add Maze’s blood to his between them, and Maze’s hand grips his face and squeezes until he opens his mouth and keeps it open, maintaining a careful threat of pressure at the hinge of his jaw as Maze kisses him stupid.

Ordo is gasping and wheezing by the time Maze pulls away, his nose whistling from where it's clogged with blood. He can taste it down to his lungs, the thick, metallic coating over his airways and mouth and throat. He hopes Maze can taste him in the same way, vindictive or victorious, as he catches his breath, reeling back from the intensity of it.

Mazes laughs, breathless, and Ordo snaps a sharp look to him. It just makes Maze laugh harder, and he leans forwards to cup Ordo’s face in his hands and press a kiss against his forehead. 

“You’ve got— a little—” Maze chuckles, and gestures over the lower half of his face. In the dim lighting, he can’t see color very well, but he abruptly registers the slightly darker shades and wet shine over Maze’s mouth, chin, cheeks. He’s covered in blood from their kiss.

“You, too.” Ordo tells him, and dabs lightly at his face to map the limits of the tacky smear over his lips, chin, neck. There’s a spot at his forehead, too,  where Maze had pressed another bloody kiss to his skin.

“Damn. Let’s clean up, and then I’ll take you back to bed?”

“Only if I get to bloody you up again.” Ordo says, and holds his hand out for a wipe.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It looks good on you.”

[zipzin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chetney Pock O'Pea & Imogen Temult, Laudna/Imogen Temult Characters: Imogen Temult, Chetney Pock O'Pea, Laudna Additional Tags: Campaign 3, Crack Summary: Forget time, forget Ludinus, forget the gods, forget Predathos. She was going to fucking kill Chetney for mentioning her name and the title assistant in the same breath.  Then maybe Dorian, after all he was the one who started this farce.

“-the assistant of C-POP Industries? I’m trying to get in touch with him and he isn’t answering. Has the master craftsman passed away?”

Imogen was wrenched from sleep as a grating voice she didn’t recognize split open her brain. “What?” she croaked out and sat up, “Did you say Chet’s dead? What’s going on?”

It took her a couple blinks to realize that she was staring at the dark red rocks of the Ruidus tunnel, one last night of, well, the closest thing they could get to peace before they entered Kreveris. Laudna was asleep, eyes open and arms tangled with hers while Ashton and Fjord were sitting ten feet away, ostensibly on watch.

They’d almost agreed against it, the only thing that would be out here would be one of those giant worms and if that was on them, it didn’t matter if someone got a shout off. They’d all know about it and they should all hope they’d be swallowed together.

And she was talking to no one.

“You good?” Ashton shout-whispered at her, “It’s not quite next watch. Bad dream?”

“No, not that” Imogen rubbed her head, “I don’t know, weird dream.”

He nodded and she laid back down and felt her body begin settle again.

“Will C-POP Industries be making a statement at Pop-con about the death of the master craftsman? What will become of his last collection?”

Imogen sat back up and sighed. What fucker was sending her? About Chetney of all people?

“How did you get in contact with me?” She growled and could see Ashton and Fjord both turn and frown at her. “And why are you asking me about Chet?” His snores were filling the tunnel and she squinted to try to make out his tiny form in the dark.

“Our sources are confidential,” the voice was smug, “But once he didn’t answer and with the weird feedback we’re receiving we thought it was best to check with his assistant.”

“Fucking Waylon,” Imogen swore, “Look, he’s not dead. We’re sleeping alright, I can see him breathing and everything. We’re on the moon. Who is this?”

There wasn’t an answer and she itched to send right back at him, but she had no fucking clue what they even looked like. Or their name. And now was not the time to be using spells for frivolous sending reasons. 

Imogen sighed and stood, gently extricating herself Laudna’s arms. “I’ll take next watch.”

Ashton shrugged, “I promised to wake up Fearne.”

“That’s fine.”

“Is everything okay?” Fjord asked.

“It’s fine, just Chet assistant stuff.” Imogen sighed and rubbed her head. “Some dipshit is probably gonna keep sending to me.”

He frowned while Ashton snorted beside her and stood, walking carefully over to Fearne and shaking her awake while Fjord gently shook Caduceus.

“Imogen?” Fearne frowned at her, “Are you joining us?”

“I woke up,” Imogen shrugged, “And I feel fine, all recovered, so, figured I’d just join ya on the last watch if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Caduceus rumbled, his eyes stopping on Laudna for a second before moving on. 

Imogen put herself between Caduceus and Fearne, he seemed nice enough if you ignored his uncommon interest in Laudna, and she was half-nervous Fearne was going to say or do something that would change his interest into something more sinister. Neither of them talked, and Imogen sat with a strict back and narrow eyes waiting for the asshole who dragged her out of bed to annoy her some more.

After about thirty minutes of silence, she had almost made her mind up to return to Laudna’s arms.

She sighed loudly.

“You can go back to bed,” Caduceus rumbled.

“Maybe-”

“Can you comment on the state of your relationship with Mr. Pock O’Pea?”

“Oh what the hell!” She stood and at the two’s confused gaze, whispered to Fearne, “Make sure he doesn’t mess with Laudna.” And then strode down the tunnel, “Now, who the fuck is this?”

There was a beat of silence.

“We are a collective who are interested in getting the answers to Exandria’s burning questions. Now, how do you feel about Mr. Pock O’Pea?”

“He’s a-” she cut herself off, as her sleepy brain seemed to click on and she gritted her teeth. This was some fucking reporter. And why were they asking about Chet? How many C-Poppers were there? How had this grown so quickly? “He’s a very skilled craftsman. That’s all I have to say.”

“Are there any associates that would be interested in talking to us? Feel free to give their description and name?”

“I’m not tellin’ ya shit. You haven’t told me anything about you. How do I know you’re a real reporter?”

“We’ve been told that there’s a dangerous green haired faun around him. Was the attack from her?”

“Attack!?” Imogen yelped, “What attack? He’s fine! And she’s not dangerous. To him.” Imogen hastily added.

She waited, but there was no response, and clenched her fists. She was going to kill Chetney. This stupid lie that she was an assistant just because she could message people! And she never even had to message Waylon! Who fucking sold her out to some reporter?!

She let out a harsh sigh and then stomped back over to Caduceus and Fearne after ten minutes of fuming.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“It’s fine.” Imogen said.

Fearne eyed her carefully and then clasped her hand. Imogen squeezed it back trying to ease the tension that was building in her neck.

Orym woke first, and in a gentle cascade the others began to stir and get ready for the final march. 

Imogen stomped over to the snoring Chet with haste. After a particularly loud snort, she reared her foot back and kicked him with, well, not all of her strength, but she’s done with this farce.

His snores immediately stopped and she heard Laudna’s vague, “Darling? Are you alright?” behind her.

“I know you’re up, Chetney.” Imogen leaned over him.

“You could of killed me with that kick!” He yelled.

“But I didn’t!” Imogen pulled back the blanket and stared at him. He frowned back, bushy eyebrows furrowed and what little hair he had sticking up in strange directions.

“It’s not my fault there’s not a private room for you and Laudna in this long ass tunnel!”

“What?” Imogen sputtered.

“Why else would you be kicking me awake?”

“The hell Chetney! No! It’s because some reporter woke me up because they thought you were dead!”

“What?!”

“Apparently Ruidus gives sendings weird feedback and you snore through them! So they decided to contact me!”

“You’re my assistant!”

“Assistant?” She heard Beau mutter.

“Chetney!”

“Wait,” he moved to a sitting position, “dead? What did you tell them?”

“That you were asleep!” Imogen rubbed at her temples to ease the oncoming headache.

“Good,” he nodded and then stared at her, continence easing a bit. “I’m sorry you can’t sleep through messages, but it isn’t my fault.”

“Fucking Waylon passed my description along! That makes it your fault!”

“Are you dissatisfied in my employ?”

“You don’t fucking pay me Chet!”

“I gave you 200 platinum yesterday!”

“Oh wow, that’s a lot of money.” She heard Jester say.

“That was for diamonds! For all of us!”

He shrugged, “You could spend it on anything you wanted.”

“And you stole it from Allura!”

“I didn’t steal anything! She gave it to me!”

Imogen stared at him and her hands raised up as she thought about casting psychic lance until he really did keel over. She let out a half-scream and then stormed back to the group.

“Are you his assistant because he’s so old?” Jester asked and then in a half-whisper, “Do you have to help him stand up?”

Imogen stopped and stared at her and with a moment’s deliberation answered, “Yes.”

She glanced back at Chet, but he was just shrugging with a smile, “Helps keep me fresh and breathing another day.” He looked down at his sitting position and then held up a hand, “Assistant?”

“Ugh!” Imogen jerked him up with her telekinesis, grabbing the back of his collar and forcing him into standing position and stormed away to where her bed roll and bags lay. Laudna pulled her into her arms and began to rub circles on her back.

“You were at the key,” Beauregard said, “Were you his assistant then? Did you come as a package deal? I thought your mom was wrapped up in this?”

“Imogen’s quite capable,” Laudna said.

“Actually,” Dorian piped up, “She was my servant first.”

Oh, they were both dying. Painful, brutal, flung out into the astral sea where no one could rescue them.

“Servant?” Fjord muttered.

“You know what I remember from then?” Imogen shot back, “That you and Fearne are engaged.”

Dorian blushed and hid behind his pack while Fearne just flipped her hair, “I have many bonds across Exandria.”

Ashton snorted, “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Um,” Caleb said, “I think we should get going.”

“Gladly,” Chetney fruitlessly brush some red dirt off his pants, “After my wonderful assistant.” He waved Imogen forward.

“Chet, I swear to you. If that damn reporter sends to me when we’re facing Ludinus I’m breaking Predathos free and killing you.”

“Only if you respond first! Can’t ruin my reputation!”

“Darling,” Laudna carefully wrapped her up and Imogen sunk into the coldness that’s brought her comfort more than anything, “Maybe we don’t decide to fundamentally change the cosmos because we’re mad at Chetney.”

“He’d deserve it,” She grunted out and buried her face into Laudna’s shoulder. She let Laudna’s scent wash over her.

“Maybe,” And Imogen knew by the almost laugh Laudna let out with each word that she thinks she’s being ridiculous, “But we need to approach this with clear heads. Okay?”

“I know,” Imogen grunted and pressed a kiss to her skin, “I know. I just, they woke me up! Because he was snoring through their messages and they thought he died! I should have just let them.”

“You can do that next time,” Laudna said and kissed her temple.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, whatever you want.”

“Oh yeah,” Chetney called back, “Whatever you want.”

400 years was a life long enough, right?

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓿𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓐 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Moving to a new place is always a tough time, but the knowing you have a mysterious neighbor doesn’t exactly help.

Warnings: None?

[📞 Series Masterlist 📞]

𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚

“On Friday, April 4th, three helicarriers from the US government affiliated organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D. fell into the Potomac River in Washington, DC. This occurred only thirty minutes after many previously confidential government, S.H.I.E.L.D., and HYDRA documents were leaked onto the internet. With us today we have Mr. Ed Brubaker here to talk more on HYDRA and how…”

It was like the same news story had been playing for the last week.

Your family had immediately urged you to move somewhere else, somewhere safer. You intended to move anyway, but their persistence was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

And so, you packed up your shit and moved.

You were an artist, so there was plenty to pack. You were only partially concerned over your financial situation—most of your art was bought online, so as long as you could mail things, it would be okay.

And, if worst comes to worst, you could always get a job at like, a sandwich shop or something.

“That over there is the barn. Concrete floor, sturdy walls, perfect for tractors and other vehicles and machinery. Right in front of it is the garage—four wheelers and whatever else is good in there. Here’s your main house. All one floor. Four bedrooms.” Mike said as he walked you up the porch to the sliding glass door.

He led you inside the house. “Master bedroom down the hall, master bathroom connected to it. These are your two living rooms, this one has a television. Back room’s got the laundry machines, and plenty of storage. It’s also got the big freezer. One of your bedrooms is connected to it.” Mike explained. “Nearest neighbor is two fields away—nobody but old folks like me live up here. ‘Cept for Mr. Blackwood, I believe. Though, I have no idea how old that gentleman is, I never seen him ‘round here when I was gettin’ this place here ready.” He pondered. 

“Mr. Blackwood?” You echoed.

“Yeah. Chris or Charles or Chase or somethin’ like that. Never hear about him in town, didn’t even know he lived in that there house until recently. Either way, there’s the thin tree line separating you.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “You are amazing. The place looks great.” You said to the man who’d sold you the house.

“I do my best, ma’am. The pantry’s fully stocked. You asked for fully furnished, and I planned to deliver.” 

“You really did—this is absolutely perfect.” You would admit that the way you’d gotten this place on such short notice was a little shady, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Why, thank you.” He smiled. “Radio’s in the master bedroom. WiFi and internet aren’t the greatest back here—always plan like you won’t have it. Power can get rocky during storms, so always make sure you know where your radio is jus’ in case.” 

“Right. Got it.” 

Mike left a little later, and you got to bringing in boxes. You put the boxes in their designated rooms before beginning to unpack the necessities first. Things like clothes and stuff.

You wondered about Mr. Blackwood. He was your only neighbor for literal miles, so you had to wonder what he was like. Was he old, like Mike had said? Was he around your age, or maybe somewhere in between? Was he nice? Or would he be annoying? 

You had other things to think about. Besides, this wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. You got back to unpacking. 

The Captain walked through the halls, the sound of his shoes against the floor audibly telling the world that he means business. His blonde hair was slightly messy, as if he’d just been on a mission. His brows were furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. A woman with red hair rushed to match his pace. She looked equally concerned, but more for him than whatever he was focused on. 

The Spy reached out, attempting to put her hand on his shoulder. He paused to let her do so.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “You thought he was there so you followed your lead. You made all the right calls.” She attempted to soothe him. 

“He wasn’t even there. All that time we could’ve been finding him and I was too busy leading everybody the wrong way.” The Captain frowned. 

“It’s okay,” she hummed. “We’ll find your guy. We will.” 

The Captain nodded as the Spy gently cupped his face. 

“Besides,” she said after a moment. “There’s always one person we can ask for help.” 

The Captain gave her an unsteady look, one of pure displeasure. Whoever the other person was, the Captain was not fond of him.

A/n: it’s been a long time coming, huh?

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

[sunskate]

tw:

thank you for this info. both of these are very much worth the time. oooof. the W5 documentary - my heart hurts for those girls and women. it's harrowing even to read the transcript. i started watching and had to stop and read the rest. completely devastating. and at the same time infuriating

the Future of Figure Skating podcast - the process in Canada very much sounds like it shields the institutions and therefore the abusers during investigation. Amelia Cline says they've found that going outside the systems in place is often the most effective route. which is damning about the system. Abby Spadafora says complaints often aren't taken seriously, or can be kicked around from Office of Sport Integrity Commissioner (OSIC) to the National or provincial sporting organization. they've had cases where the person reporting the abuse was put in the same room with their abuser to recount their complaint. horrific stuff. independent investigators who have conflicts of interest or are otherwise unsuited to the task, the list goes on

not only is the process itself and the timeline not made clear by OSIC to the parties involved, OSIC has strict confidentiality clauses that keep people from speaking while the process is ongoing. once a case is brought, there might be news stories in the beginning, but then there's silence because of this. no further bad press for the abuser or the institutions involved. and the victims can't speak about their own experiences for fear that it will be used against them in the case. they're saying that if you were involved in a criminal case, you'd have more right to speak than in these OSIC cases. [so this could be why we haven't heard more in the Soerensen case]

they said the solution is to treat these like any other human rights issues - in any other circumstance, it wouldn't be this hard to fire and remove adults abusing children. that the process needs to be consistent and more transparent and public. that there needs to be a top down, bottom up reassessment of the entire system so it can be figured out where and how it's broken. they started out investigating gymnastics and found the same stories in so many other sports - that it's an issue in all sport

OSIC was modeled after the US Center for Safe Sport which is a system they have no confidence in. this is an in depth discussion where they bring up so many facets - like how it would be important for role models and more of the public to speak up, to say they believe survivors - and not just the famous ones - when these survivors risk so much in speaking out

[elletromil]

So about 2 years ago I got three prompts from @gaiahenshin and I fully planned on writing the three of them and go midway through the second one and then life happened

But like i said, i do want to get back into writing so i am finally sitting down to finish writing the halfway done stuff!

This is set in a star trek like!au I might eventually write more into where Ba Ye is an empath and Rishan is an android.

10. hiding their face in the other’s neck

Yatou is no stranger to people being rushed into her medbay. There has even been a few memorable -- in the worse way possible -- occasions when patients had been directly teleported to a bed.

It’s not exactly part of the routine here, but it’s not unexpected either. In fact, if more than a couple of weeks pass between these kind of incidents, she -- along with the rest of the medical staff -- will start growing wary and prepare for the worse. Something which inevitably turns out to be a good thing.

This is not one of those time. The last away mission was only four days ago and everyone on that team suffered from a very bad case of indigestion when they failed to remember one very important rule from basic training. In other words: don’t eat unknown fruits native to a newly-discovered planet, no matter how much they look like Earth’s plums. Yatou had been as disappointed in them as Fo Ye had been furious.

But they’re currently in route to their next destination without any specific mission on the way. It could be a confidential one of course, but, in deference to her rank as Chief Medical Officer, Fo Ye usually gives her the courtesy of implying she might want to be sure the medbay is fully stocked when he’s under that kind of orders.

So there really shouldn't be any reason for Lieutenant Zhang to be rushing through the medbay doors, holding an unconscious Ba Ye in his arms.

Expected or not however, Yatou is still a professional and she’s already done calibrating the bed sensors before Lieutenant Zhang is even done crossing the room.

“What happened?”

“He- he just collapsed.” The slight stutter is all Yatou needs to know just how worried Lieutenant Zhang must be right now. While it would be a complete lie to say the android cannot feel emotions she’s never known him to be anything but imperturbable in time of crisis.

She wishes she could reassure him that Ba Ye will be alright, but that’s a mistake she knows better than to make, especially without a diagnosis.

Lieutenant Zhang lowers Ba Ye into the empty bed, but when he tries to move away, Ba Ye’s groans in pain and his hands grip tightly at his clothes.

“Keep holding him Lieutenant,” she orders, making a split-second decision.

It might not be proper protocol, but whatever is happening to Ba Ye, it is next to impossible for it to affect an android. She would rather keep him comfortable as long as possible.

It’s not like it seems to be any hardship for Lieutenant Zhang anyway. By the looks of it, he would never let Ba Ye go if given the choice.

“Lie down with him for now, but leave me space to work.”

The sensors need a bit of quick recalibrating to take in Lieutenant Zhang into account too, but already, she can see Ba Ye seems to be running a high fever.

That’s too much of a generic symptoms for any number of potential illnesses, but she gets a hunch as to what it could be when, even unconscious, Ba Ye tries to avoid her touch when she takes a blood sample. That and how he turns into Lieutenant Zhang instead, hiding his face against his neck with pained whimpers.

Were it anyone else, she would have dismissed the idea at once, but she remembers Ba Ye’s attempts at describing his mental impression of the Lieutenant once, like he was a spot of tangible peace and quiet.

If his mental shields are down like she suspects, it’s no wonder that he would be seeking a deeper connection with him in order to drown out everything else assaulting his senses.

Even that doesn’t narrow things down however, but if she remembers the incubation time of the Krr’ll’t flu in empaths like Ba Ye correctly, it would correlate with their last stop at the space station about two weeks ago. She hadn’t heard of any outbreak at the time, but a delegation from Ba Ye’s home planet had also arrived at around the same time and she’s pretty sure Ba Ye had met up with them.

They could have been unwitting carriers as the virus was near undetectable until the first brutal symptom hit.

Unfortunately, there’s not much she can do until the blood analysis is done except to try and keep him comfortable. And Lieutenant seems to have it covered on that front.

“Hope you didn’t have anything important to attend to Lieutenant, because you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.” An exaggeration if it does turn out to be the Krr’ll’t flu. The treatment for that is usually fast acting, at least where allowing empaths to rebuild their mental shields is concerned. But Yatou always prefers to play it safe in her estimates when she can.

Lieutenant Zhang looks slightly affronted and for a moment there, she thinks he’s going to protest the not-quite order. She couldn’t have been more wrong however.

“Nothing is more important than Ba Ye’s health.”

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - The Fall of the House of Usher II

In this episode, it quickly becomes clear that Roderick Usher isn't as sharp as he might have once seemed. At the same time, a mysterious woman is introduced—she’s appeared before, but oddly always in different forms.

The focus, however, is on Perry, who has been rejected by his father and aunt when he pitched what he believed to be a brilliant idea for a club. At first, their harsh response seems unfair, because from a distance, Perry's idea, though elitist, flashy, and a bit perverse, somehow fits. You’re left wondering why they dismissed him so brutally.

As the Usher family's story unfolds, you start to understand the reasoning behind this rejection, even though Roderick has already told Perry straight to his face. Either you change the world or your idea goes straight to the trash—anything less is unworthy of an Usher. Is this the secret to the family's success?

We also learn in this episode that there’s a mole in the legal case against the Ushers, led by Auguste Dupin, who is leaking information to the prosecution. Naturally, the Ushers won't stand for this. Their lawyer, Pym, immediately drafts new confidentiality agreements, which all family members and their partners must sign. This plot line alone is powerful, showing both how the Ushers operate and the wealth they use to protect themselves.

As for the mole, I have a theory, but I'll wait until I have more evidence. Now, back to Perry!

Determined to prove his father wrong, Perry throws an extravagant, orgy-like party. But just as he aims high, he falls just as hard—poor Icarus, metaphorically speaking. It fits perfectly with what happens: while the acid may have physically killed him, it was his hubris and ego that were the real culprits. Too bad for him that his brother’s wife, the person he was trying to get back at, survives, and I’m sure her story isn’t over yet.

I like how this episode focuses on Perry, while still giving us glimpses of the others—there's some crazy stuff happening, but it’s not shoved in your face. That’ll sure come later, but for now, we’re just getting small bites. The scenes with Auguste, Roderick, and Madeline working in the basement add even more intrigue.

Another aspect I appreciate is the deeper exploration of Roderick and Madeline’s past—how they became such a powerful family and built their wealth. The way this is woven into the present-day storyline adds the right amount of context just when it’s needed.

The episode also touches on the painkiller Ligadone, its supposed side effects, and how addictive it can be. I wonder if this is another reference to the opioid crisis in the U.S., where drugs like Oxycodone and Fentanyl have caused widespread addiction.

Many doors have been opened, and I’m eager to see what paths, obstacles, and dark secrets lie behind them. I’m also hoping we’ll learn more about the mysterious woman, who keeps appearing in different forms.

I’d love to see the visuals continue to evolve—the series' style, especially how it portrays different time periods, is something I really enjoy. On the surface, it might seem lavish and exaggerated, but when you look closer, you find something distinctly Edgar Allan Poe-like. I wish more shows would dare to take these kinds of creative risks.

[tobiasdrake]

We may have a new base of operations!

Back to normal or better than normal? He's rich. Maybe he installed luxury seats and-and an autopilot since Yakou doesn't know how to fucking drive. I'm so excited!

...

...

Halara's right. We light it on fire and then move into the hotel. Nothing good can come of this place, right y'all? ...Y'all?

Oh, it's drab and miserable like it used to be. Makoto upgraded nothing. Okay. This is fine.

I'm moving into the hotel. I can sleep in Vivia's room. He sleeps under the piano in the lobby so he won't mind.

Does it say if he at least installed a deluxe coffee maker? No? Okay.

I shouldn't be complaining about getting a whole-ass submarine but I--

Hold the fuck up. Did he reinstall the secret WDO hot-line phone? How? How did he do that?

I know I've said a lot of mean things about Kurumi, especially when I was accusing them of murder, but they're talking a lot of sense right now. We should use this place sparingly. Keep it and use it so Makoto doesn't feel offended and turn on us, but avoid discussing anything of serious import in this likely-bugged office.

If we need to talk confidential Amaterasu mission information, we're better off on the streets where random people might listen in than in the office where dangerous people are definitely listening in.

Honestly, boss man, it was your job to kick her out of the group. That's on you. Kurumi has earned my respect with her contributions to this investigation, and that's more than I can say for you.

Besides, a detective agency that nobody can find is good for nothing. What good are detectives that can't be hired to solve cases?

Can Vivia see Shinigami?

I have been wondering if we were going to have a character show up that can interact with Shinigami 'cause they're super spiritual or some shit. But maybe that's been Vivia all along.

Hmm... Interesting. So that's about seven years before the Forever Rain began. I wonder if the secret lab is one of the flooded Dohya District labs? It's possible they flooded the district on purpose in order to conceal it.

Kurumi got here five minutes ago and she already outranks Yuma on the Nocturnal Agency hierarchy.

I would be spiteful about this but I say shit like this about Yakou all the time too. We have a give-and-take of mutual disrespect.

YAKOU NO. WHAT HAVE YOU CONSIGNED ME TO.

Okay. Last round went to me, when I abandoned him in the sub to starve for a full day. This round goes to Yakou. He wasted no time at all selling me to Kurumi, a girl he barely knows.

HE CAN. Holy shit. He totally can see Shinigami! He's been watching us interact with Shinigami this entire time. What the fuck.

That's what I've been saying! Shinigami is a bad thing, and her involvement (and the things she knows but won't cop to) makes the WDO as a whole incredibly suspicious!

@.@ He stood up. He stood up and took out a box cutter.

Shit's about to get real. Next chapter is going to be intense.

Not impressed by the final reveal of the killer but overall there was a lot to like in this one. Fubuki's fun and I love hanging out with her, even though the writing goes so hard on the "LOL Bimbo" jokes.

I was worried partway through that they were going to go the "Chaotic Evil bomb-throwing anarchists" route once the bomb stuff came into play, but they avoided that pitfall. Though I'm not sure how much better "This was all an elaborate bank robbery" is. That was a distressingly disappointing reveal.

So many interesting things Icardi could have been and they go for two-bit bank robber. Well, this is far from the worst instance of Danganronpa's Chapter 3 curse, that's for damn sure. Nice to see one tradition remaining intact, even if the "two victims" tradition was left behind.

Don't know how to feel about Makoto. He rubs me the wrong way, but that could easily be my own internal biases against the upper class acting up. Still, between Yuma, Shachi, and now Makoto, it feels like nobody in Kanai Ward understands that you can't negotiate with a bullet. When the opponent has all of the guns, evidence and logic mean nothing.

Remember in the first Pokemon game when a ten-year-old boy dismantled a crime syndicate by winning a Pokemon battle with the mob boss? He beat the boss and the boss was like, "You have defeated me fair and square. Very well. I will quit crime forever." And then the boss dismantled his own organization and retired forever.

It feels like that's what everyone thinks will happen if they can just secure a photo of Yomi breaking the rules. Like they can march into his office and slap a picture of one of his guards roughing up a suspect down. And Yomi will look at it and go, "Gasp! Corruption is what I have become. You have humbled me, good sir. I will dismantle the Peacekeepers and leave Kanai Ward forever."

And I want to say that's an unrealistic thing for them to believe. But. Like. That's basically what every throwdown with Monokuma's Masterminds winds up being like. They always drop dead because you logicked them so hard that they ran out of clapbacks.

So. Maybe it could work?

[bisluthq]

You guys sound very victim blame-y talking about that woman… It’s okay to not really care about her life and her struggles but it’s really not easy to just “leave”. Especially with the way she was raised, the way her husband treats her, the fact that the company is apparently under his name so who knows how much money she actually gets herself, the fact that they have children together. She’s clearly in a shitty situation that would be hard to leave and blaming it on her instead of the misogynistic husband who pushed her to marry him faster than she was ready to and who forced the lifestyle he wanted on her… No one is saying she has it worse than everyone else but c’mon… I also think it’s good that they wrote this article now with the whole “tradwife” trend, it shows that it’s not as perfect as they all paint it

Oh come on lol. No, it’s not victim blaming because I simply don’t think she’s a victim of anything other than her own shitty life choices. She’s a person with a lot of choices and options before her who made and continues to make certain choices and pick certain options. Yes, her upbringing led her to think this is the best set of choices and it probably wasn’t and isn’t but it’s also patronizing af to decide someone’s culture is “wrong” especially when the person who is participating in it had and has many ways to opt out of that culture and information regarding other cultures. For one, she lived independently in NYC away from that community. So she chose to marry this guy - yes he pressured her but she… still agreed? She wasn’t kidnapped or placed into an arranged marriage or anything like that. The company is in his name but she’s got her personal influencering brand right and he clearly is happy for her to do shit she decides to do like the Mrs World competition (which involved travel without him so?? She’s not being held against her will???) like idk man. I agree that it’s important to write this story and show that this is… not a great life… even for the people actively choosing it…. but I also don’t think we should be all “oh no this mean misogynistic man” when she’s clearly agreed to all of this stuff.

She also could go and get BC without him ever knowing tbh so popping out all the babies is also a choice she’s agreeing to? She knows about BC and she can access it and she could go and get something without ever talking to him or telling him about it because doctor/patient confidentiality tbh. There are ways to access BC and pay cash or even free BC if he’s exerting financial control or she’s worried he’ll see it on the insurance docs in some way.

Shitty decisions -> shitty outcomes. That’s not victim blaming. That’s saying human beings have choices and women are full blown human beings and if we make shitty choices (like become tradwives) there’s a good to great possibility that our lives will suck.

idk man I made/make a lot of really shitty choices and they often lead to questionable outcomes and that’s because I was making bad choices, not because I’m a victim. A victim mentality is not the right approach here imo. There are SO MANY WOMEN (and other marginalized people) in the world who ACTUALLY don’t have choices or only have so called choiceless choices available to them who actually deserve our support and sympathy and mental bandwidth and who are actually victims of their circumstances that I just… don’t find this that sad? Like fafo is what happened here.

still a bit sad ofc poor Ballerina Farm lady - sounds like her life is shitty. Because of the shitty choices she fucking made tho.

also fwiw if the reporter believed her to actually be in danger this would be dangerous af to publish in its current form so either that’s an irresponsible decision or the reporter feels the husband is shitty but not straight up abusive.

[mozzarella-stickz]

Karma: Cad Bane x F! Original Character

Author’s Note: I titled this Karma like the Taylor Swift song only because of the line “Karma’s on your scent like a bounty hunter” and I was like OMFG. Anyways enjoy this absolutely disgusting piece of literature.

Summary: Zena Brene is on the run from her rich father. He hires Cad Bane to bring her home.

Warnings: NSFW (oral sex F! and M! receiving fingering, vaginal sex), alien penis??, author makes up stuff about space poorly, arranged marriage (not with Bane), original female character

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

The first two days on the run had been fine. Her father hadn’t known she was gone for at least a few hours, giving Zena a head start. However, by the third day, unbeknownst to her, someone was following her.

Zena had assumed her father would send someone after her, but not who was now traveling through the cantina, scanning his red lizard eyes for her. Zena hid further under the hood of the robe she had stolen from home, desperately trying to cover her face up. The entire cantina was silent as Cad Bane trailed through it, holding a puck with her face on it. The bartender took one look at it, back at her and his eyes widened. Zena felt her heart go out and time stand still as he opened his lips and yelled to the bounty hunter.

“She’s right here!”

Zena turned around and met the gaze of Bane, her heart dropping to her stomach. She had a plan, and as she jumped up and ran, she used the cloak to knock him over, running out of the cantina as fast she could. Her speeder was out there, sitting and waiting, and she grabbed the goggles from the seat, starting it up and…

It didn’t start. The bastard had taken out the transmission.

“Stars above,” she swore, her eyes filling with tears. No choice now but to make a break for it. She began to run, but her attempts were proven futile as she heard running from behind her, the sound of a blaster shot, and the next thing Zena knew, everything was dark.

“You put up quite a fight, lil’ lady.”

Zena opened her bleary eyes, finding herself in a small cell on what appeared to be a ship. Sitting up, she wiped her eyes, her vision coming back as she locked eyes with Cad Bane through the bars.

“My father hired you, didn’t he?” she snarled, crossing her arms. “Of course he would do that. How much is he paying you?”

“Dat is confidential information,” he said, pulling a toothpick out of his pocket and chewing on it.

“Fuck you!”

Zena spat at him through the bars, enjoying the glare he gave her as fury raged in his red eyes.

“You outta learn some respect,” he said bitterly, wiping the spit off his face. “I pity the poor bastard who’s marrying you.”

“Oh, so he told you, huh? How I’m his rebellious, annoying, petulant brat? How he thinks this man is going to set me straight? Yeah, right. That bastard has about the same amount of brains as an Akk dog. Smells like one too.”

“Yer a funny one. It’s a damn shame you’re engaged already.”

“Oh, gimme a break! You stunned me and put me in a cell, don’t try and get all sappy with me now.”

Zena sat back down, but was surprised to hear a key inserted into the lock, turning with a click. Bane entered the cell, leaning against the wall, dangling the key from his long fingers. To her chagrin, something…ignited in her. She felt a wave of arousal between her legs.

“We’re almost dere,” Bane said. “About a day’s journey left. If you promise to behave, I can let you outta dis cage.”

Another wave of arousal made its way between her legs. Zena hated to admit it, but his dominant and domineering nature had an affect on her. Maybe it was the product of her very obvious daddy issues, but Zena had always been interested in the kinkier side of sex. When she was sixteen, she read her first dirty story on her Holopad, late at night under her bed covers. Ever since then, she was hooked. She’d looked for it in many guys, but they only ever wanted blowjobs. She was a virgin in every other aspect.

“I promise,” she said thickly.

“Good girl.”

Maker, Zena was getting hornier than a loth cat in heat. It was evident on her cheeks, she knew it, the blush that made her freckles stand out and her blown out pupils thinking about the dirty things she would let him do to her if given the chance.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Zena played a few rounds of Sabbac with Todo, Bane’s protocol droid, but mostly just sat in silence, arousal dripping down her thighs.

“Where am I sleeping?” Zena asked, as she began to grow exhausted, letting out a yawn.

“You tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you better not be. I can smell da arousal on ya, lil’ lady. Practically begging me to fuck ya.”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act so shy with me. My bedroom is that way. Be face down ass up in five minutes or dere’ll be hell to pay.”

She followed the direction of his fingers, closing the door behind her. His room was a small, surprisingly clean if a little bare, and smelled like him. Zena stripped off her boots, pants, tunic, and belt, leaving them on the floor. Her undergarments were soaked. Zena peeled them off slowly, leaving her entirely bare. She laid down in the bed in the position he had instructed her to be in, the anticipation making her pussy even wetter. The door opened behind her, and his heavy footsteps made their way towards her.

“Such a pretty girl,” he said, low and mechanical.

Bane stepped forwards, his large hands running up the back of her legs. Zena shivered under his touch, body growing warmer and warmer. Cad chuckled under his breath, no doubt feeling the warmth in her body spreading. His hands traveled from her thighs, to the middle of her spread legs. His long finger was cold as it stroked her cunt, but Zena let out a small whine as it circled her clit.

“You like dat, don’t you?” Cad asked, his finger picked up ministrations.

Zena only nodded, unable to form words. Cad growled, grabbing a handful of her blonde hair, forcing her to look at him. Zena’s eyes went wide, but her pupils grew even larger with lust at the roughness.

“I believe I asked you a question, lil’ lady,” he spat.

“Y-yes,” Zena said breathless.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…sir.”

“Dat’s a good girl. Now roll over f’ me.”

He released his iron grip on her hair, and Zena rolled over, spreading her legs wide. Cad looked her up and down, from her tits to her hot, wet cunt. Cad’s hands cupped her tits, squeezing them softly as she moaned. He chuckled again, clearly enjoying controlling her. Not that Zena minded, really. She liked him being rough, telling her what and what not to do. It made her brain go fuzzy, made her not have to worry about anything outside of him.

Cad squeezed her breasts once more, before lightly nipping at them with his sharp teeth. Zena jumped slightly, before letting it happen again as he grazed her nipples just barely.

“Feels s’ good sir.”

“Is it?”

“Mhm.”

“Too bad den. This ain’t about you.”

He moved off you, unbuckling his trousers. He threw his belt to the floor, before pulling his cock out with a tug. Zena’s eyes widened. It was the same shade of blue as him, but the tip was a darker purple-ish blue color, throbbing and hard. There were ridges all along it, and his balls were full and dark like his tip. Cad smirked as he watched Zena take it all in.

“Like what ya see?”

“Yes sir.”

“Come down ere and suck it.”

Zena sat down on her knees in front of him, grabbing his cock in between her manicured hands. She had done this before, but not with a sick as big as his. Zena stuck her tongue out, giving a soft kitten lick to the head of his sock. Cad immediately let out a groan, grabbing the back of her head again.

“Maker, girlie, yer mouth is so much better for cock suckin’ than back talkin’.”

Zena smiled up at him with her large brown eyes, before wrapping her lips around his tip and suckling it gently. She eased her way down his shaft, using her hand to jerk off what she couldn’t fit into her mouth. Cad swore over and over, his hand guiding her up and down. Zena, however, had another idea. Letting go of his cock with a pop, she lifted his cock up to reveal his balls, sucking them into her mouth and licking them.

“Fuckin’ hell!” he exclaimed. “You like dat? Like suckin’ on them like a dirty slut?”

“I love it, sir,” Zena said, not even holding the slightest bit of brattiness. She genuinely did like it.

She took his cock back in her mouth, letting Cad fuck her throat as he moved her back and forth. It wasn’t too long until he was cumming in her mouth with a shout. His cum filled her mouth, some dribbling from the side of her mouth. Cad leaned down, wiping it and stuffing it back in her mouth. Zena swallowed it all.

“Was…was that good?” she asked, suddenly insecure.

“Lil’ lady, I dare say dat’s the best my cock has been sucked. I think ya deserve a reward for dat.”

“Reward?”

“Lie back down on the bed, spread yer legs, and yer gonna find out.”

Zena laid down and spread her legs as she had before, anxiously awaiting him. He kneeled in front of her, pulling her by the legs to the end of the bed. It was then she realized what he was doing. Cad’s tongue licked up her folds, and she threw her head back as his long tongue wrapped around her clit. In all her years, she’d never felt anything as good as this. Bane quickened up his pace with his tongue leading Zena further and further to the edge. With a howl, Zena’s orgasm came crashing down, flowing out into Babe’s mouth. He rode it out, Zena shaking and near tears as the aftershocks shot through her body at a quick speed.

“F-fuck,” Zena cried, “T-thank you, sir.”

Bane stood up and grinned, his blue face smeared with her slick. Zena blushed, tucking a strand of her blonde hair back.

“Ya came so hard, girlie,” Bane teased. “Has anyone done that to ya?”

“Well, uh, no. I didn’t tell you this before but I-I…I’m a virgin. All I’ve done is give blowjobs.”

All it took was those words for his eyes to grow darker. He had no obvious pupils, but if he did, Zena knew they would have been blown out entirely.

“A virgin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Girlie, yer first time and it’s with a bounty hunter’s dick. Yer in fer da time of yer life. Lay back down.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zena laid back down, spreading her legs again. Bane adjusted his hat, before positioning himself in between Zena’s legs. His hands spread her thighs apart wider, before he smiled down lustily at her.

“Ya ready, lil’ lady?”

“Mhm.”

“Alrighty, hold on.”

He entered her, and Zena let out a hiss. It was painful, especially since it wasn’t a human cock inside of her. Zena grabbed onto Bane’s arms tight, as he thrust into her slowly. As she adjusted to him, it started to feel good, still painful, but it was slowly turning into a good feeling of fullness.

“Ya okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. I’m gonna go faster.”

Zena nodded as Bane picked up speed, thrusting in and out of her. Her tits bounced, and she threw her head back.

“Ya feel so good, tight and…warm!” Bane groaned. “Squeezin’ me so good.”

“Keep going, please sir!” Zena begged.

Bane reached down, rubbing her clit furiously. It didn’t take long before she could feel the orgasm building up.

“I’m getting close!” she cried.

“Glad I’m fuckin’ the brat outta ya,” Bane said, low and breathless. “I should feel bad, ruinin’ ya for ya husband.”

“Fuck him!” Zena cried. “Bane…I’m gonna!”

“Let go, girlie. Let ya master know how good he’s fuckin’ ya!”

Zena moaned, louder and higher than before, her walls clamping around Bane’s cock. It didn’t take long before he was swearing, his seed filling up her belly in a loud, gravelly groan. He fucked it into her as the aftershocks began to wear down, and he pulled out of her slowly. Zena was completely fucked out, red face, mussed hair, smeared mascara, sweat riveting down her body. Bane zipped his pants up, adjusted his hat, and went to grab her a wet towel.

“Bane?”

“Ya?”

“When you bring me back to my family, will you come visit me?”

“Ya have a life to get to. I have my own.”

“Oh.”

“If ya run away though and yer daddy asks me to find ya brat of a self again, maybe I’ll see ya.”

Zena smiled, sitting up.

The next day, Zena was returned to her family. Credits were exchanged, and she was thrust into wedding preparations immediately. Still, instead of dreaming of her fiancé at night, it was always Bane.

A few weeks later, Bane received a holo message from Zena’s father once again. He smiled as he took the puck, promising to bring his little girl back like he hadn’t taken her virginity the last time he’d hunted her down.

Maker, Cad Bane was going to have fun with her once again.

[bleachbleachbleach]

I was thinking about Tech For Tousen more! If Tousen has access to it, and Seireitei has a Braille analogue (the amount of eye scream, voluntary or otherwise, seems to demand it), he could have some kind of hand-cranked steampunk Braille-type printer. And possibly one of those handheld punch things to make Braille dots on the page himself for someone to translate into kanji. (Again, who does this for him? Where is the concern for basic privacy in Gotei 13? What if he had to fire someone or was discussing someone else's private business? What about his own private info like banking or medical or just his own personal matters?) I am convinced, although I must do more research about which department it would belong to and so forth, that there is a Gotei 13 library, and perhaps someone there might translate his cookbooks and legal treatises and...IDK...whatever else he reads that isn't confidential. (I cannot turn off Library Mode, I fear.)

The first thing this ask made me think of is the Mihara Braille board:

This is a piece of Japanese American invention rather than one from Japan proper (there was a pre-existing form of Japanese Braille from the 1890s when this was invented), but Tousen strikes me as the kind of person who would be interested in and fluent in every system of Braille. (He has probably joked about being interested in learning every Living World form of Braille or equivalent writing system for the blind--"one for each year Soul Society, in its infinite wisdom and creativity, spent completely without one.")

He also strikes me as someone who would find the conditions under which Mihara's system was produced--unjust incarceration masquerading as "military necessity"-- particularly resonant.

Speaking as someone who spent three years as a research assistant for a professor who wanted a poor undergrad to a) proof his papers about value-laden science, b) suggest course readings for his biomedicine and technology classes written after 1980, and c) type stuff, from papers about value-laden science to personal/professional emails containing private information about both himself and others that a student worker had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS HAVING ACCESS TO, I can guarantee for all its ~secrecy and ~military bureaucracy, basic privacy in the Gotei is an aspirational concept. I mean, look at them. XDDDDD

There is a Gotei library, you are absolutely right!!!!! That's where the Gotei figured out Aizen had been accessing files related to the Ouken (Yamamoto talks about this in the Advance Team Arc via Worm TV, and I know I just said basic privacy was an aspirational concept, but I'm convinced that TV is their version of establishing a secure line, LOL, so it's not that the concept doesn't exist). The library also gets mentioned in several filler arcs, I'm pretty sure, because Ukitake gets banished there a few times for plot reasons (I'm pretty sure Ukitake and Kyouraku both ended up there in the Bount arc); Hitsugaya too.

Okay, I know the idea is that this is really more of a restricted National Archives than a public library (and/or some place that is one giant rotating fan short of a mid-century scifi space station), but I also kind of feel like Soul Society might struggle to separate these things reliably, so Tousen's legal treatises are in here, as are the cookbooks. And no one is sure if they're really cookbooks or if they're encoded notes, like Dr. Marcoh's notes in Fullmetal Alchemist. (Tousen's are surely both.)

Also, I went looking for a picture of the library and LOLLLLLLL THIS CARD:

New library feature just dropped: Protection against the discard pile!

[epickiya722]

Those are questions I can answer! Somewhat.

One was how did he even managed to get some info? Did Skeptic help him or did he do it himself? 1) Unknown! Current hypothesis is that Dabi tried looking into Hawks, found his "lack of existence" hella sus, decided to take a break to bully Endeavor, found "Ending" who was released from prison, who also happened to be an Endeavor fanatic who just so happened to be present during Takami's arrest. I assume he was passionately ranting about the first time he saw Endeavor's flames fight "the thief with red feathers" and how it inspired him to become a villain, and that was enough for Dabi to get curious. Skeptic could've hacked into the HPSC database because surely they'd have a record of all ProHeroes right? But this creates more issues because they erased Hawks' name, they sure as hell wouldn't have records of his mom, so I'm assuming they instead tried following money trails, paychecks from Hawks' agency to his mom's place? We don't really know who was paying for everything, when Hawks was younger it could've been the HPSC, but now I assume it all comes from his paycheck. Tbh I find this whole thing flimsy, Hori was all "Dabi just somehow did it" and expects us to magically he believe he found Hawks' mom's house. Because I think Hori ran into some issues with that plot, I highly suspect he had to find a hasty way to wrap things up and that's a whole separate post if you wanna hear my complaints.

That leads in to how much time he spent finding the information he did because that is some confidential stuff? 2) Oh, absolutely. He has nothing to track because Hawks doesn't even have a birth certificate. He has no legal identity. Removing "Takami Keigo" was more of a formality, cutting off his mind's connection to the name. Following my theory, I say around January to early March is about the time frame for it. Tomie fled at an unknown time before the end of the war, which was last week of March, but since Dabi had his video done for awhile, (everything else was hastily edited in later on the way to the battlefield) I wanna say it could've been earlier in the month? Regardless, within that time frame.

Another is wouldn't that be some information that the Commission would have locked up tight so that no one could access it? Is Skeptic (or Dabi) really that tech savvy or is someone in the Commission is actually worse than what we are lead to believe? 3) See above. Don't think Dabi knows about the HPSC truthfully, he never mentions them. Either because he doesn't want Hawks being seen as sympathetic, or he just doesn't know or care, cause yeah his story would be another way to shatter hero society, but...it doesn't suit the narrative Dabi was going for. Which is a whole other essay.

Another question is did Dabi do research on the other Pro Heroes or did he not care to? 4) Didn't care to. He doesn't actually care about the other Pros. Only Endeavor. He says as much, that "I'm not saying that everybody has to be pure and selfless, just you." He targeted Hawks to get at Endeavor, he realizes Endy cares about him. Says, "This is my present to you Endeavor" when he mentions doing research on Hawks. In the same way he calls bringing Shouto's corpse as "a present" for dear old dad. And I suspect he wants to the public to think that "if Hawks, a hero, killed someone because of his upbringing by a villain for a father, then Dabi, the son of a hero, having killed all these people, must have also been influenced by his hero of a father...but hero? If Dabi turned out this way, how bad is Endeavor?" He's actually implies that really hard too. Pretty much states it out right. I could point out every piece of dialogue but this is getting long lol.

If he did, did nothing strike him as worth enough to disclose to the public? How about Miruko? Knowing her backstory, he didn't think to disclose that? 5) See above. Fatgum actually fought in underground rings too, but Dabi has no grudges against them, nor does he actually care for "please think for critically!" he likes to act like a concerned whistleblower, but Endeavor is his only goal. This whole disaster that ruins the ProHero profession ruins the "hero" Endeavor by default and places the blame on him. It's that association again. He was all, "Even Endeavor's friends, like Hawks are bad!" So I'm assuming this could also partially be his reasons for trying to criticize all heroes in his video, ruin his old man's job fully, no leeway. If they hate the idea of heroes so much, no chances left for Endy, just their hatred for this failure, and when that didn't happen, he's seen thinking to himself, "so I didn't go far enough heh."

Anon, you didn't have to take the time out to answer these questions! You really didn't!

But I really appreciate it anyways and those answers are really thought out and put together!