#shell fleet solutions

[transportemx]

400 empresas americanas se mudarán de Asia a México y Shell Telematics tiene soluciones para ellas

Las ventajas competitivas que tiene México gracias a su ubicación, sus tratados comerciales, su amplia red de cadenas de suministro, entre otras, lo han convertido en uno de los países más atractivos dentro de la tendencia del nearshoring en la industria. Para aprovechar al máximo este potencial, el transporte y la logística juegan un papel fundamental, y Shell tiene las mejores soluciones para…

[zvaigzdelasas]

[TIME is Private US Media]

[By Anatol Lieven]

The long-awaited counteroffensive last year failed. Russia has recaptured Avdiivka, its biggest war gain in nine months. President Volodymyr Zelensky has been forced to quietly acknowledge the new military reality. The Biden Administration’s strategy is now to sustain Ukrainian defense until after the U.S. presidential elections, in the hope of wearing down Russian forces in a long war of attrition.

This strategy seems sensible enough, but contains one crucially important implication and one potentially disastrous flaw, which are not yet being seriously addressed in public debates in the West or Ukraine. The implication of Ukraine standing indefinitely on the defensive—even if it does so successfully—is that the territories currently occupied by Russia are lost. Russia will never agree at the negotiating table to surrender land that it has managed to hold on the battlefield.

This does not mean that Ukraine should be asked to formally surrender these lands, for that would be impossible for any Ukrainian government. But it does mean that—as Zelensky proposed early in the war with regard to Crimea and the eastern Donbas—the territorial issue will have to be shelved for future talks.

As we know from Cyprus, which has been divided between the internationally recognized Greek Republic of Cyprus and the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus since 1974, such negotiations can continue for decades without a solution or renewed conflict. A situation in which Ukraine retains its independence, its freedom to develop as a Western democracy, and 82% of its legal territory (including all its core historic lands) would have been regarded by previous generations of Ukrainians as a real victory, though not a complete one.

As I found in Ukraine last year, many Ukrainians in private were prepared to accept the loss of some territories as the price of peace if Ukraine failed to win them back on the battlefield and if the alternative was years of bloody war with little prospect of success. The Biden Administration needs to get America on board too.[...]

Ukrainians have scored some notable successes against the Russian Black Sea Fleet, but to take back Crimea they would need to be able to launch a massive amphibious landing, an exceptionally difficult operation far beyond their capabilities in terms of ships and men. Attacks on Russian infrastructure are pinpricks given Russia’s size and resources.

More realistic is the suggestion that by standing on the defensive this year, Ukrainians can inflict such losses on the Russians that—if supplied with more Western weaponry—they can counterattack successfully in 2025. However, this depends on the Russians playing the game the way Kyiv and Washington want to play it.

The Russian strategy at present appears to be different. They have drawn Ukrainians into prolonged battles for small amounts of territory like Avdiivka, where they have relied on Russian superiority in artillery and munitions to wear them down through constant bombardment. They are firing three shells to every one Ukrainian; and thanks in part to help from Iran, Russia has now been able to deploy very large numbers of drones.

For Ukrainians to stand a chance, military history suggests that they would need a 3-to-2 advantage in manpower and considerably more firepower. Ukraine enjoyed these advantages in the first year of the war, but they now lie with Russia, and it is very difficult to see how Ukraine can recover them.[...]

A successful peace process would undoubtedly involve some painful concessions by Ukraine and the West. Yet the pain would be more emotional than practical, and a peace settlement would have to involve Putin giving up the plan with which he began the war, to turn the whole of Ukraine into a Russian vassal state, and recognizing the territorial integrity of Ukraine within its de facto present borders.

For the lost Ukrainian territories are lost, and NATO membership is pointless if the alliance is not prepared to send its own troops to fight for Ukraine against Russia. Above all, however painful a peace agreement would be today, it will be infinitely more so if the war continues and Ukraine is defeated.

24 Feb 24

[justshortpedrofics]

Always Comes Back

Wrote this in an hour today after the G2 promo came out. It's not edited, so my apologies for that. I know nothing about the character but he looks good and I couldn't help myself.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x reader (unspecificed gender, written with a female in mind)

WC: 1.1k

Rating: M for dark themes and some implied smut

Summary: Marcus Acacius always comes back to you, and it's been that way for a long as you can remember.

He always comes back to you. 

He comes back from wherever they’ve sent him to do all of the things that he won’t ever talk about with you, yet he comes straight to you. 

And when he does, you’re there waiting, every single time. 

You’re waiting for him to come back, to come home, even if he can’t call it that anymore. You’re waiting for him to appear in your doorway, his skin bruised and battered, dried blood crusted beneath his nails and in his hair. 

But there’s never blood on his weapons or his armor; he knows better than that - cares more about that part of himself than to ever let something so important go neglected. 

Marcus Acacius doesn’t neglect the things he takes pride in, and you’re one of them. 

His armor is a symbol of his strength, of the victories he’s had on the battlefield in and the rooms of the various castra he’s been housed in. When people see it, they know who he is and what he is capable of. And when people see him, they know it, too. 

He is imposing and fearsome, his full lips more often than not set into a thin line, the man’s brow furrowed as he contemplates what is before him. He is smart and fast, quick with both actions and solutions, his certainty about what must be done inspiring not only the men he leads but those that witness him do so. 

But that isn’t the man you know. 

The man you know - and know well - is the opposite of the one he presents to the public and to the Emperors. 

His hands, so deliberate deadly during battle, touch you with a gentleness he would kill to keep people from knowing he possesses. 

His body, so broad and muscled, perfect for overpowering his enemies and anyone in his way, is used to pleasure yours long into the night. 

His mouth, quick to fire off orders or insults, tone deafening, is nothing less than worshipful of yours, along with your skin. He has never once raised his voice toward you, and he never will; you’re certain of it. 

His eyes, sharp and focused, constantly flitting from one thing to the next to keep himself alert focus only on you -  constantly on you, the softness in them almost enough to make you forget that the time you have together is fleeting. 

There is still enough of him inside the shell of a warrior that you’re able to bring it back each night you spend together, and you’re thankful for it. 

You know that you shouldn’t keep seeing him, keep allowing what is between you to continue. 

You’re well aware of the other woman he shares a bed with and what anyone finding out about you might mean. He would do his best to protect you if the need arose, and you know it. But the simpler thing would be to tell him no, tell him that you cannot watch him walk away from you, time and time again, not knowing what will become of him. That you cannot keep sharing him or his heart or his body, even though you also know that he can’t fully give you anything in entirety, at least yet. 

But after all the years and the battles, after all of the separations and the heartache, after knowing what he does and is expected to do because of his position, he is still not General Acacius to you. 

He’s just Marcus Acacius, the boy you grew up with. The one with dreams and plans, who idolized a different General, many years earlier, and vowed to be just like him someday. He’s the man you shared your first kiss with, just outside of the gates of your home, right before he left to train. He’s the one that came back to you months later, bigger and stronger and still excited for the prospect of more, though you could already see the distance in his eyes.

Marcus took you to bed for the first time that night, solidifying the connection between the two of you. 

When you removed his clothing, gasping at the sight of his body covered in scrapes and bruises, deep purples and blacks and green blooming across his skin, he stayed silent and held you while you kissed every one of them, whispering comfort with each press of your lips. This will heal. You will be fine. You can come home to me and I will do this every time if you let me. I will wait for you. Always. I love you.

And that’s why it’s so hard to let him go; because you love him, and you always have. 

You love him despite the distance. 

You love him despite the pain being without him causes. 

You love him even when he leaves your heart bruised and bloody, in a much different way than he does on the battlefields. 

You love him because even though to you, he will always be Marcus, to them he has become a symbol of so much hope. 

You love him even though you know his love for her has forced his hand, the Emperors using those feelings against him and as punishment to get their way. 

But that makes you love him even more, you think, because while he has allowed them to see what he feels for her, they don’t even know you exist. And to you, that means he keeps you even closer to his heart; keeps you safe and protected at all costs - even that of his own true happiness by prolonging his career and his usefulness. 

His body will break down eventually, and there will be someone younger and stronger in his place, someone more willing to do what he is told. There will be a time when Marcus Acacuis must retire his armor and step back, letting things move forward.

And you’ve talked about that, many times before. What his after would be like, and where you fit in. 

With me, of course. Away from Rome. Away from this. Just the two of us, as it should be. 

And you believe it. 

Because the alternative is unthinkable to you. You refuse to believe that they don’t know you exist because he doesn’t care. You refuse to think that everything he’s ever told you was a lie. You know him better than that; better than anyone, at least according to him. And he wouldn’t have - couldn’t have misled you for years.

So you sit and wait and bide your time with your memories, letting him leave you to fight their wars and do their bidding, to appear with her and appease the people of Rome in a way that makes sense for someone in his position. 

Because he always comes back to you. 

Until he doesn’t.

[thehistoriangirl]

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [8]

Y'all this is horny

I don't sorry but still, fair warning!

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 4.9K ---NSFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…  

Tags: Not-So-Forced Proximity| Marriage of Convenience| Strangers to Lovers| Domestic Fluff| Post-Wedding|  Crushes | Fake Dating| NSFW Tags: Nipple Play, Grinding, Semi-Public Sex |

Chapter Summary: With winter arrives new blooming feelings that complicate the situation.

What is real, and what is an act?

8: Lover or Stranger

Cold wind flew across the boulevard carrying the winter, which made the living room window mist when Viktor stayed too late at night scribbling away at the coffee table. This time of the year was always rather grim, with dirty snow and the lead sky with no signs of sunlight—it made his bones ache, all his energy drained.

A pain resonated deep within his chest at passing by the one-level houses back to the apartment, with their porches lit gold by the streetlamps like a lighthouse guiding the family home.

While they sat idly on their couches, eyes crinkling with smiles and sounds of laughter echoing by, so fleeting Viktor couldn't even dream about grasping them between his freezing fingers.

Loneliness was a norm by now, as kids didn’t like a child that couldn’t run just like teenagers were too poignant with their words for Viktor to try. He became a boy—a man—between machines.

No matter how hard they beeped and hissed, with their wires breathing life, there was still a void where the sound of an interrupted conversation ought to be.

Thick as the shell was, it started to crack by the time he met Jayce Talis, which made it easier to let the walls down once he got himself in the middle of your life without much of an afterthought.

He started to turn on the AC and closed the door of his bedroom to envelop himself in the warmth that would be stolen once he got inside his car toward work.

This year would’ve been the same, lethargic season it had always been; with the same faded shades of grey and blue he sometimes felt being knitted inside his chest like a blanket too heavy to hold, to even stand up too much.

And yet, he found flashes of colors peeking beneath the enormous layer of grey, black, white, and blue of his everyday heating shirts and robust jackets. Bold pinks and bright oranges beneath your coats, red scarfs that matched the color of your lipstick.

He even started to wear those matching, colorful gloves and hats Jayce not-so-jokingly had bought for last winter’s festival Viktor couldn’t assist due to the ache in his leg.

The living room was decorated in vibrant greens from all the plants you have moved inside since the first snowfall.

Viktor had been at a loss for words once he entered the house earlier than usual—a custom he was taking slowly, unconsciously gazing at the clock once the sun started to dip between the skyscrapers.

Rio was perched in one of the swings Viktor hung from the ceiling, swaying side to side while you were humming, hands busy with the honeysuckle you were trying to perch by the window.

"What are you doing?" he asked, worried that your precarious stance on the stool faded once your head turned toward his voice.

"I'm putting them inside," you huffed, jumping out of the seat. Your fingers were covered with black earth, and the living room was a concoction of at least six different essences of plants mixed with newly made dinner. “They will die in the cold, you know.” You went toward him with a small wisteria whose leaves were starting to get yellow after being in contact with the snow.

Viktor blinked. He barely had the energy to walk from work back to the house, and you were bothering to move all his plants inside the living room.

“I didn’t know you like plants.”

You shrugged, one of the sides of your sweater falling from your shoulder.

"I prefer trees, but these are cute too," you chuckled, putting the wisteria on a coffee table near the balcony. “Trees are more resilient than flowers, but they grow slower.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s true. I’d say that resilience comes from patience,” Viktor said, standing next to you while helping you thread a money plant in the wall over the TV. "Everything that makes you wait is worth for.”

He gazed at you, memories recounting the sensation of your lips against his, how his hands found purchase in the soft skin of your waist.

Yes. Albeit Viktor wasn’t sure if he had the privilege of patience in the actual circumstances.

The least he could do was seize the time presented in front of him before it would slip away alongside those rudimentary sketches of prototypes and hurriedly written to-do lists Viktor ended up locking in a bottom drawer, fearing that Jayce or you could discover it otherwise—could discover it before he’d solved his problem.

Thus take his chances he did, even when he didn't wish to assist this snobby soirée, knowing there would be barely any seats for him to rest, without considering prickling pride of you discovering his diminishing health.

He wished many things from you; pity wasn’t one of them.

It wasn’t like he didn’t catastrophize every once in a silent night, but rather that his mind had started to create a sanctuary, a small pocket of possibilities in which you wouldn’t mind—that you’d be one, maybe the one, not to commiserated him for who he was.

An outsider.

“Vikky!” you called him, fighting among the crowd to make your way next to him. “I found you!” You beamed, looking so breathtaking with your olive dress outlined in golden details, like a nature goddess he could worship any day.

Focus, Viktor.

“I, eh, apologize for vanishing," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks red once your fingers touched his while taking the delicate steam off the glass. "I didn't wish to interrupt your conversation.”

It wasn't that, but the sensation of staying at the edge of a precipice, where a false step and then someone else would push him into oblivion only because he couldn't stand on such treacherous ground—not like you. Or like Jayce.

He watched how you both climbed further and further away that at some point you wouldn’t hear his voice anymore.

“Could you talk with Jayce?”

Between his grim thoughts, Viktor smiled despite himself.

“I did,” he lied. The chargeable air conditioners they were developing to donate to orphanages, shelters, and other organizations could have been discussed with an email.

Part of him was ready to justify. That he was there because he’s your husband, and his job was to back you up. Thought Viktor couldn’t lie to himself so blatantly, he was too curious to see you out in an ambient familiar for you, as he couldn't think of many opportunities he had to get closer to you, fear still pouring out his heart, nerves on edge just waiting for your backtrack. For your regret.

It was a known feeling by now—so many nights looking at the ceiling inside his bedroom while a thousand possibilities passed by, almost any of them auspicious.

What did you think about him? Why did you kiss him that day, when nobody was watching?

“Are you alright?” you muttered, your voice driving him away from the endless spiral of allegations. "I'll give you a taste of my wine to ease you if you want."

“I don’t think getting intoxicated would be the best option if we wished to walk out of this with our reputation intact.”

Especially with all the dirty looks you both were receiving; if it was because of Viktor’s presence in the very selective party or because you've made more enemies in the last few weeks of your last public appearance, he wasn’t sure.

Especially with how he would react once his shame was washed away by the liquor. As now, Viktor found it incredibly difficult to tear his gaze away from how the soft fabric of your dress hugged and fell around all the right places from a tailored piece, something like relief flooding his chest once he saw the golden ring on your left hand glimmering against the light of the chandelier.

You were addictive, he dared to say, the same way he had grown needy of discovery and mastery of his craft. He wished to memorize the sensation of your pliant lips molded against his, how you tasted after snacking on fruit from the bowl while he was working in the living room, that the texture of your hair against his palm could get engraved in his memory just like the smell of your shampoo no matter how long you take to return home.

There was a longing under his touch so hard to contain, an ache that soared and reverberated ever since he looked at you waving him in a hurried goodbye as you were being taken away to chat with some guests, only the outline of your backless dress visible before being devoured by the crowd, terse skin glowing against the hue of the chandelier.

He was embarrassed by how much he wished to touch the delicate curve of your back, theorizing already if you'd shivered once his fingers traced along your spine to then dig in the supple skin of your hips.

Your finger was warm against his cold brow for staying too close to the window when you poked the crest between his eyebrows.

“Easy there,” you muttered, standing right in front of him. “You’ll get  wrinkles here if you keep frowning.”

Viktor chuckled despite himself. “We’re all going to have wrinkles, my dear. I don’t mind.”

You faked a pout, he was already familiar with the shape of your mouth to notice it; how your bottom lip puffed out and quivered, your eyes widening like those of a puppy—all dramatic flair.

A dramatic scene he didn’t mind one bit. Rather…

“Hmmm,” he hummed, looking around the room for any curious guests stealing glances at you. There wasn’t any, and yet Viktor leaned closer to you to steal a kiss from those pouty lips.

Just like a doting husband shall do.

You smiled against him, the hand that wasn’t grabbing the glass of wine against his chest.

Could you feel how his heartbeat scrambled around because of you?

"You're cold," Viktor said once you had parted, the aftertaste of the pastries you'd been eating still clinging to his tongue like a temptation to challenge him to go for another kiss. And another one, and another. His hand ran up and down the curve of your bare shoulders. "Take this."

His coat was too long and too narrow on the chest for you, albeit in his mind the mere thought of the cloth smelling like you made him brace himself against the chilly current of air filtering through the ajar door of the balcony.

"Thank you," you beamed, rolling up the sleeves to fit the size of your arms. "But I think we can go home now. I've talked with Mel already, and that's the only reason why I came, so…"

“Is that so?” Viktor arched an eyebrow. For some reason, he had always imagined you enjoyed yourself in these kinds of events.

After all, he had seen you in a myriad of them during his years of university assisting galas and banquets as one of late Mrs. Daxer's protégé, in a way.

Even if he was just a piece to show off that wealth's compassion was a thing, Viktor got his eyes trained on your figure navigating through the tide of people surrounding you like an amorph halo as if they were sunflowers and you were the sun.

He never thought he could have a chance to stand so close to your rays, for the world had always taught him he was but an ugly, moribund flower that didn’t have a chance to be part of a bouquet.

So Viktor watched, taking as much as he could—from a distance.

Even now, he could compare the images of the young bachelor student you used to be back then and the businesswoman you had become.

Though your world tried to make you endure, the shine in your eyes persisted yet slightly muted, though now Viktor could observe glimpses of that unrestrained delight every once and then.

Just like when Rio dropped that seed on the bar for you.

Ever so insignificant for others, and yet you had the little seed in a pot inside your room, all protected from the harshness of the season.

 How much time had he dedicated to thinking about you in the last few months?

Viktor was afraid of answering because, for the first time in so long, work wasn't the only priority posing on his mind.

“We can go now if you want,” you said, leaning closer to his chest so nobody in the vicinity could hear you. “Besides, it seems it’s about to snow at any moment. Driving could get dangerous.”

Viktor shivered when your hand slid down his arm until stopping in the crook of his elbow with a gentle pat. He wasn't sure if the culpable was the chilly wind blowing at his back from his place tucked between a pillar and the entrance of the lonely balcony.

Before you could pull away, his fingers brushed the reverse of your palm, with him enjoying how your eyes sought his.

“Perhaps you could concede me a dance first?” he heard himself saying, almost deluding himself he just did it in his mind. “Could warm me up before getting out into the cold.”

“I didn’t consider you like to dance. I would’ve asked you to dance first before I went away to talk with potential investors.”

With small steps, Viktor guided you to a corner of the ballroom, the handle of his cane locked in the crook of his elbow so both his hands were free to take you in between his arms.

“I’m not a good dancer,” he said, loathing how his cheeks felt hot after the confession. “But I have great company I wish to spend a moment with.”

“You don’t have to impress me, Viktor.” You put your hand over his left shoulder, feeling the soft patch of his back brace underneath. “I’m not one of those sponsors you need to convince.”

It wasn’t a need, but rather a childish desire.

He cleared his throat, not wishing any kind of improper thoughts to get ahold of his mind.

“Sometimes I forget it. Because you’re still part of this world.”

Your chuckle reverberates against his chest when you lay your cheek over his shoulder, steps matching in a slow and intimate melody.

“I’m not. Not really,” you mumbled, face looking away from his seeking eyes. “A fish being dragged inland is forced to grow legs to walk or else it’ll die. Would you say it belongs on the surface then?"

Viktor swallowed, words slipping out of his brain as he tried to roll them out his tongue. He had never been great at eloquence, which was why Jayce is the face of HexTech and not him.

This wasn’t a pitch sell, though, so he wanted to believe you didn’t expect a well-rehearsed line filled with bland and dishonest words.

“Where do you think you belong?” Where do you think I belong?

“I don’t have many options where to choose from, do I?” You raised your head to lock eyes with him. “The orphanage, without a family name, or with a stolen one? I don’t think either of those are especially welcomed.”

Viktor smiled. "And what about creating your own?" he muttered, his body adjusting to the new rhythm of the song starting to play.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admitted, defeat and shame tinting your voice from being heard too loud. “It’s been so long since I’ve lived under someone else’s name that…” you sighed, trying to form a smile that wasn’t lacking in sourness. “I shouldn’t be saying this out in the open.”

Viktor nodded. “You’d never know if you don’t try, hmm?” he offered, extending his arm for you to twirl, your skirt hitting his legs.

“Do you speak for experience?”

He tended to forget about your background, that perhaps at the beginning you weren’t as different as sometimes his mind obliged him to consider albeit it could give him hope that maybe the differences weren’t too grand for you two to try.

He didn’t like to be considered a fool carried away by feelings. Viktor was an engineer for a reason—leaving high hopes out of the equation, where they couldn’t enter through the polarized glass doors of the lab.

“I do,” Viktor said, patting the small of your back before retreating his hands. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

The windows of the car were fogged once you slipped inside, freezing air cutting at your face in the open parking lot.

Viktor groaned when he sat against the driver’s seat, the joints of his legs creaking after being standing up for quite a while.

“Do you want me to drive?” you said, your gaze burnt into his side profile as he took the seat belt with frozen fingers.

“I’ll get warmer soon. Don’t worry.” While the engine purred alive, Viktor took the steering wheel and decided to give you some answers about his life, in the remote case you’d be willing to do the same.

“I decided to leave my hometown and chase my chances in the city of progress when I was around sixteen years old." He tried to gesture away, but his hands were too numb from walking out of the building down to the basement, so he only got them hit against the windshield with a mumbled curse and his cheeks embarrassingly red. “I had your mother to thank for giving me a chance to enroll in such a prestigious university. She gave me a chance when many others just gazed past me.”

You parted your lips with a muffled ‘pop’ in the charged silence, windows blocking the blows of wind from a desert highway.

“Did you accept my offer because you feel like you owed my mother?” you asked quietly.

Viktor observed the bleak landscape outside, the night black with snow starting to fall out of the sky like small ghosts haunting the darkness.

“I did not,” Viktor said simply, not daring to gaze upon you.

It was a half-truth, but he didn’t dare to say it whole.

Not yet.

"I did it for HexTech," he ended up saying, closing his eyes with regret for a moment once the car stopped at a red light. It was too late to backtrack now. “It’s part of our dream, as you may know. It’s an opportunity we couldn’t pass.”

You chuckled, facing toward the window. "Of course. I thank you for accepting, nevertheless. I think you’re the only one who would do something like that.”

“Thank you, I assume?” he replied, voice filled with faux offense, which made you giggle.

“It was a compliment.”

He shrugged. “Sure sounded like one.”

"I want to thank you for accompanying me tonight," your voice flew softly inside the vehicle, as if time had stopped and you were inside one snow globe. “I enjoyed it, unexpectedly. And… it was because of you.”

“Did youenjoy it because of me?”

You crossed your legs, trying to appear easy-going though Viktor could see your hands fidgeting with the edge of your dress. “I usually don’t enjoy going to parties like those—I always have to be mingling and smiling and making chit-chat you won’t remember tomorrow. But alas, it’s work, too.” You shrugged, your finger drawing faces on the window. “But today was different.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Different how?”

“I felt at ease,” you chuckled, looking at the looming apartment complex approaching. “I do when I’m with you. So… thank you.”

He couldn’t know if it was the alcohol you had drank, or if the special circumstances had driven you so to speak so comfortably in his presence; maybe it was the many weeks passing by in each other's company inside the apartment, how you were more than existing together in the same space.

“It is my pleasure,” Viktor said, extending his arm so you could give him his coat as your body leaned toward the back, grabbing all the jackets and sweaters before heading outside. "I enjoy your company, too." Much more than just enjoying it, but it was a step closer to admission.

“That’s good,” you chuckled. “Or else it’ll be a rather awkward marriage.”

“And you’re just saying it now?” Viktor teased, hands brushing each other’s when you passed him his long, heavy brown coat. You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your mouth raised in a sheepish smile. “We should head inside before the car grows colder.”

You smiled at him from the copilot seat, so close he could take a whiff of the special perfume you wore for these types of occasions; with jasmines and sandalwood, a touch of lavender to calm down your nerves. “Wait a little. I want to stay here for a bit. It feels… good.”

Viktor had counted his drinks with diligence tonight. Two glasses of red wine and half a flute of champagne, which to him wasn’t much, accustomed to stronger drinks from back home, and yet… he couldn’t restrain himself this time.

The small locks of hair tickled your forehead when he leaned toward you, eyes locked into the other in a silent spell that seemed to envelop the quiet ambiance inside the car half-tucked between the shadows of the parking lot and the nearest streetlight, making your eyes shine like stars.

“Jsi krásná,” he muttered, your eyes widening slightly as his hand cupped your cheek.

By now, he was getting used to the way you felt against him every time you kissed, though it was always a marvel trying to guess where your hands would be this time, either in his hair or cupping his cheeks, maybe over his chest, seeking his accelerated heartbeat.

But it was never enough. And it was oh so terrifying.

You dipped your head so he could take the lead, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to taste the sweetness of the dark chocolate with strawberries that still clung to you, so deliciously mixed with the sour essence of the wine you had cheered with all night.

A little moan escaped your lips, his fingers sliding down the outline of your jaw, barely brushing the soft skin of your neck and the halter of your dress, a piece of silk and jewelry that felt so easy to unclip beneath his gifted, crafty hands.

It was a rather selfish desire, the one to take you in so much that he ended up engraved in your memory once this contract arrived at its end, wishing that perhaps that way he could make you stay.

You sighed his name between kisses, your nails gently scratching his skull, fingers tangled in his hair. He replied the only way he could, breathing your name like a prayer once he tugged you closer, defying the separation between the two seats.

It was the first time he felt your weight atop his; such a blissful sight of you gazing down toward him, hair framing them away from the outer world as your hands kneaded at his shoulders. Even in dreams, he could've never matched how it felt to truly have you between his arms.

You were bold tonight, too, stumbling across your seat to settle on his lap. Even if your pulse was too agitated to unbutton his vest and shirt as fast as he did to unclip the ends of your halter dress.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, Viktor’s eyes growing a burnt amber hue at taking in the sight of your skin covered in goosebumps against the cold air, nipples hard and small. “Viktor.”

He hovered his lips over the right one, his hot breath making it grow softer and bigger. It was your opportunity to turn away, to tug the ends of your dress from your waist upwards, and call it all a mistake.

And yet, you only arched your back at him, your nipple brushing against his ajar lips before he sucked it inside his mouth, drawing it around his teasing tongue as his hand sought the warmth of your skin, pinching the other small bud in rhythm with his licks.

“… Vikky…” Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently as your lips repeated his name in keen sights and lewd moans matching his.

The hand grabbing your hips caught the movement of your grinding against his lap now that he had woken up and gone hard at the taste of your body lotion, of your skin in his mouth, and the way you were leaning so needily against him.

“Call me Vitya, moje láska. Please.”

Your pants mixed with his made the windows of the car fog up so much Viktor was surprised there was still oxygen inside the closed space.

You looked down at him, hands gently cradling his cheeks. “Vitya?”

He flicked your nipple between his fingers. “Mmmhmm.” His voice was gentle, merely above a whisper while praising you in his natal Czech. He had no other choice—he mumbled all the loving words he didn’t dare to speak in English, too afraid still of your rejection as he passed from one pampered nipple to the other, enjoying how it had changed color thanks to all his attentions, the scientific, always-curious part of him thinking how much your skin would change in tone under his bites and kisses.

Between the hot coil starting to pour down between his legs and pressing uncomfortably against his pants, he saw the yellow headlights of an upcoming car.

Sure, the windows were all fogged up by now, but he couldn’t assure whoever was going to enter the parking lot couldn’t notice them in such a… compromising position. Married couple or not.

He called your name, though as soon as he did Viktor was sure you did not hear it, too lost in the repetitive motion of your hips buckling against the hardness in his pants.

Then, he bit your nipple, teeth pulling it harsher than he had done.

Hissing you tugged his head away, your eyes dark with lust and brows furrowed, both aroused and confused.

“Vik… Vitya?”

He felt his cheeks hot red, and Viktor knew the blush crept up his ears and down his chest. “E-eh… someone’s coming.”

You blinked through your passion. Once. Twice.

Before your brain could wire the information, the sound of the car’s engine echoed in the underground parking lot, and you jumped, scrambling toward your seat while covering your breasts with your hands.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry!” you exclaimed, jumping out from him into the copilot seat, hands hurriedly taking your dress upwards to cover your hard nipples. “I’m sorry. We… um, we should get inside now,” you muttered, your hand wiping down the fog layered in the window of the car. “Well, maybe once the other people get down their vehicle.”

“I… I suppose so,” he said, shaky fingers buttoning up his shirt.

Perhaps it was for the best, that the cold air would calm down the lustful thoughts running through his mind enough that you wouldn’t notice the bulge in his pants once you entered the well-lit apartment.

“Viktor?” you said once he opened the entrance door with shaky hands, and after had dropped the keys at least twice before the victory.

“I… eh, I’ll take a quick shower,” he excused, passing next to you as fast as his cramped leg would permit him. Because your close presence and the recurring thoughts of you weren’t helping him to calm down.

The freezing air only made him fantasize how warm the bedroom would turn out if he dared to invite you to his bed tonight.

But you both had taken alcohol and perhaps it was just a spur of the moment—a defeated sigh and annoyed grunt in the morning once the events of last night had sunk in completely.

He didn’t want to be a mistake for you, because you wouldn’t be one for him.

So Viktor preferred to wait. He’d been patient for almost eight months now, he could wait a little bit more, too.

In the meantime, he would try to win your heart.

[nahalism]

Do you have any advice for feeling so shitty in yourself pls 🥺 like my skin is so bad at the moment, I’m so so unhappy with my weight gain. I don’t know where to start in fixing it or how to even get the energy to, feeling like this should be enough, but it isn’t. Idek how to explain.

But I’m so unhappy, I feel so ugly and disgusting.

i wish i could climb in your skin and place my own philosophy in it. <3 — this is the thing, lets say you're ugly, your spotty, and your fat, and that that will never change. does that mean you dont deserve love? or to feel good in your favourite outfit? that you dont deserve kindness? or consideration? that you shouldnt be seen as valuable, sexy, worth love, worth affection? does it mean that you should hide and stop showing up in the world in the way you want to?

i can think of a million reasons why that isnt the case. the problem is, any advice i give you in solution to the problems youve stated can only be superficial because the issues your speaking on are on the surface. i could tell you how i get my self together when i feel how your describing, or how i got rid of my acne, how i lost weight etc, but the real issue is beyond the surface. its about how you feel about you

who are you? what is your character? how do you show up in the world? where do you bring value? what are your biggest virtues? how do you combat your biggest vices? do you treat yourself with compassion? do you extend that compassion to others? what does your humanity look like?!? what does your love feel like?— these are the things that make someone beautiful. — and in terms of what is attractive and sexy, its so much deeper than appearances. sure appearance is important, especially in society. i wont ignore that, but society advocates for a whole lot of crazy shit. there are trends, and then there is what is timeless. the essence of what you are is timeless, holding it to the standard of a fleeting trend is short sighted. you have to value yourself for what you are, not what you look like or what what you look like means for how others treat you. only once you have some self respect will your external begin to match, because people who love themselves act lovingly toward themselves. its a ripple effect.

in terms of looks and feeling yourself, which is very important, you have to question, if someone is willing to count all of who and what you are out because of what you look like, is that someone you want? anyone of us could have an accident that changes our appearance forever. what then? what you feel about yourself and how you carry yourself as a consequence, is what makes you alluring. when someone is into YOU (not your shell) and (tmi but..) turns you on, or makes you moan, or sees you happy (!!) that is infinitely more attractive to them than you having the perfect body or appearance. because even the most perfect person is not perfect (& they know it, they just have you convinced that theyre as good looking as they feel or portray themselves to be). literally its all about youuuu. if you cant see that, you will always try to cover you up, so no one else will see it. nor will anyone make you able to see it. you need to step up and treat yourself with some humanity. you are a whole being, created uniquely and entirely complete. completion is perfection.

if u want my skincare routine, or how i lost weight, or literally whatever information im happy to share it. but 100000s of other people already have their routines out there for u to follow. i mean it with the utmost love and respect when i say, u need to start looking at yourself as a living, breathing being with so much to offer and so much potential for growth beyond what you already have to give. have some self compassion. you are beautiful and worth your own love, let alone other peoples. acknowledge yourself before time shows you how blind youre being. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

[tertiusdecimusfilius]

Ships passing in the night usually didn't see one another.

Usually.

It took a mere twenty minutes from the destroyer-escorts of the Ultramarines and the Dawn Legion discovered each other until the time that the twin fleets were facing off side-by-side, rows of macrocannons staring down Lance batteries like fleets on ancient Terra with decks of cannon aimed and ready.

"Macragge's Honour," Celaya muttered, mild disbelief ringing through her tone. "The same markings, the same iconography, the same support fleet."

"Roboute never was particularly fond of changing what works," Tlatia replied.

Alarms blared throughout the ship as the Ultramarine fleet was brought to full combat readiness and the Dawn Legion did the same. Marines, both superhuman Astartes and mortal shipboard defense crews, rushed to their battle stations with weapons at the ready. Damage control teams went to standby alert. Weapons crews plotted firing solutions and prepared their guns, either charging them or loading them with colossal macrocannon shells.

The twin fleets sat there for five agonizing minutes, guns ready and drawn, shields high and humming. Five minutes of infinite chances for bloodshed ticked by before a message was sent.

"This is the Dawnbringer, hailing Macragge's Honour."

The other fleet hadn't made an attack yet which put him a little at ease. However, both fleets were ready for a battle, should it come down to it. Roboute stared at the ships opposite them, eyes wandering over the shape of the ships, the colors, the symbols.

They looked familiar. It wasn't something his mind could place right away. There was a nagging sense that he should know, that he knew, this other fleet. It wasn't the same feeling he'd gotten when he'd first met Aurelius and discovered the remnants of the second legion all those months ago. But this was certainly similar. The Primarch chewed his bottom lip. The name of the flagship escaped him.

His mouth opened to give the order to hail the other ship, but before he could, the voxmaster piped up. The other ship was hailing them.

"Open the frequency," Roboute ordered. The Dawnbringer? The name rung a bell, but-

There was the familiar spark of pain in his head. It only confirmed the feeling he had about this. It was likely that this was the other lost legion. Though it was strange. He couldn't remember much about them, probably from whatever power Malcador had used to erase the existence of the two legions. However it wasn't causing the same level of pain. Either the eleventh had been as thoroughly scrubbed from existence as the second, or having already remembered the second was making it easier to remember the eleventh.

"This is Macragge's Honour. What business do you have within this sector, Dawnbringer?" he asked.

[xartus]

Now that the frantic lust of adolescence is long past

I find myself more than ever missing what I once had. Or the possibility of such. Of being wanted be the same people whom I wanted

I'm quite positive that I would've had a date and some time of physical interaction by now, after the divorce, if I were still a woman. Yes, there were intimacy issues in the marriage but I don't blame neither she nor I

I was woefully unprepared for the realities of dating women not only as a man, but as a trans man. Its much easier to date women as another woman. I feel acutely the rejection by my ex and by society as a whole as a trans man

People talk about touch starvation and I've thought I felt it in the past but that wasn't this. I had close friendships in the past in addition to dates. Intimacy phyiscal and emotional, romantic and platonic galore. What I was feeling then was more akin to a type of lust, albeit a deep one. It doesn't even compare to the utter desolation, frustration, and crushing isolation that I feel now. What seemed barren before is a lush ecosystem full of life compared to this

I want to cry thinking about a girl kissing me, or embracing me. If that ever happens again I'd probably cry in relief from the human contact. I want to cry about how, holy fuck, I WAS wanted so much beforehand and I didn't even realize it. Compared to now, where its so painfully obvious that I'm not

Obviously I won't detransition as this is who I am and who I was meant to be. More indicators that this wasn't something I did for anyone except myself (get fucked, transphobes). I don't know what the solution is. I wish I had someone to be present with me, someone who I felt comfortable being so vulnerable in front of. And then someone to just fucking touch me with the reverence and care that I KNOW exists because I've felt it before. My person, my soul has only grown and gotten better; its the shell that's the issue

And that's the thing isn't it? The more authentic you are to yourself, the harder it becomes in a society not prepared for that. Like you the the spiritual- the more you know, the more you experience and grow; the less stable your foundation becomes, reality that you thought was solid becomes fluid and fleeting, and you ask yourself if ignorance really was bliss and if this madness is worth it. But you can't go back, and you don't want to, and you know you were you built for this gnosis because you sought it out

Circles in circles

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 12: Shell

Fandom: SWTOR

Time: probably within the first three months since Eva was defrosted (3632/31 BBY -- 21 ATC)

Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler

Words: 1250

A/N:  Yes, I could not resist mentioning how Bioware has shamelessly recycled Koth’s face for Galactic Seasons...

~~

“You’ve got this,” Theron reassured her in a low voice as Eva took misstep – another misstep – in their waltz.  “Just follow my lead.”  One warm hand flexed against her cool, exposed upper back, while the other squeezed her right hand.

She felt the pressure, not the hand.

Silently, she shook her head.

She wasn’t ready yet. “I’m not  --”

He didn’t need to hear the rest: he could see it in her face. Theron pulled her in close to him and spun them out of the range of their mark. They’d practiced that throughout the evening, making sure they could extricate themselves as elegantly as they had entered the Zeltronian pleasure palace.  The night was still young, so they would have ample opportunity to complete the mission.

One way or another…

Theron’s hand was on her chin, demanding her attention even as their feet continued to move in time at the edge of the dance floor.  

Her right was still raised; she hadn’t noticed his hand’s departure.  She dropped it to his shoulder, immediately.

“Eva, look at me.” His olive-gold eyes burned into her. “You are the best person to pull this off.”

“Theron, I’m not –”

“You are.  You’ve got the fastest hands on Odessen, even if it’s only your left.  In all the sims, you consistently beat Koth by well over a second, even with Lana making a mind-trick distraction.  That second will make the difference -- ”  

“That, and Koth looks more the sort to rob a casino.”

“Thanks, Lana.”

The tension between Theron and Eva broke as they heard Lana and Koth bicker in the getaway speeder.

It was Eva’s first op since she’d been defrosted.  An opportunity had come up unexpectedly to “acquire” a particularly exquisite Corusca gem bracelet. It would be traded onward for credits as well as intel regarding Zakuulan supply depots.   The bracelet … just had to be acquired without anyone noticing.  Hot merchandise couldn’t be moved on the market; the current owner of the bracelet couldn’t notice it was missing.

Eva had pawed through old VATs with Risha and Akaavi, finding a solution.

Lana had mustered the very rational objection.

Theron had absorbed the data and input, then disappeared into Oggurobb’s lab to see what miracle the good doctor could manufacture.  

Now they were here, him in a classic, timeless suit, and Eva in some big-sleeved yet backless confection of the week.  

Theron leaned in closer to Eva, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear.  “We’ve practiced for weeks.  You and me, waltzing past Koth and Lana.  We just need to execute.”

She just needed to execute, in truth.

Eva shook her head.  “You were right, I’m out in the field too soon –”

“We’re here now.  You’re right.  We’re ready.  It’s happening,” Theron cut her off, grasping her numb right hand.  His other palm now stroked her back, a sign of comfort between lovers.  

“You know, there is the other option,” Lana offered over their earpieces.

“And I’m sort of not excited about that option,” Theron muttered.

Koth’s pilot’s chair creaked.  “You need to have a little faith, before you send Theron off to stage a mugging gone fatally wrong-- ” and then the argument started again between Lana and Koth.

…it wasn’t Lana who had suggested that backup plan.  It was Eva. Old habits and criminal tendencies died hard.  Now she regretted it, even as she watched Theron roll his eyes at Lana defending the plan as a brutally efficient solution to their problem.  

Theron had already told her he didn’t want to live in the grey areas they had prior to the Eternal Fleet. That went for not just deciding what they were, but what he did in the name of a faction.  

Eva knew he’d do it for her. And the mission.  Maybe even mostly the mission.  But still, a little piece of him would do it for her…

And she didn’t want him to do that.  

Eva adjusted her left sleeve.

“Let’s get back to the main floor,” Eva said to Theron, loud enough for the people around them to hear, as well as Lana and Koth.

Theron drew so close that his lips did brush the shell of her ear this time.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

~~

A well-executed op was a beautiful thing.  

As they had practiced for weeks with Lana and Koth, in spare hours in the empty executive suite, Theron and Eva had waltzed in perfectly timed circles toward their mark: woman of indeterminate age, leisure class. She was consistent, doing the same things Theron had observed when watching her and her partner dance over the last few weeks.

She would slide her bracelet up her forearm to keep it off her wrist.  Her partner had the tendency to drop his right arm as he led a turn. Those had been the last pieces of intel they’d needed.

After revolving about them for ten minutes, like planets revolving about the sun, Eva signalled to Theron that this was it, three finger taps to the shoulder.

Theron spun them in a rather grand big top flourish, joining the rest of waltzing crowd in the finale of the dance.  The music swelled, and the people spun faster than a roulette wheel.

But Eva had been a quick draw champion, drawing, shooting, and hitting her target in less than a third of a second.  

Eva’s left arm reached out from its perch on Theron’s shoulder, and Eva’s modified hold-out knife shot out.  Rather than something in a weapons shop, the blade had been substituted for one of Dr. Oggurobb’s obsidian scalpels, modified to have more of a hook than a straight blade.  Effortlessly on the first turn, Eva rotated her wrist so that the scalpel cleanly sliced through the jewelry wire, then with a smooth pull back, its magnetic properties hooked the Corusca stones right into the compartment on Eva’s sleeve, right through the gap between the woman’s left arm and her partner’s lowered right arm.

Her hand was back on Theron’s shoulder in a split second.  The voluminous fabric hid the motions of her wrist.

On the synchronized counter turn, swinging back the other way, Eva let her hand slide down Theron’s arm just enough to get an angle, then activated the release on what once had been a zipline launcher. Instead of line spinning out, the replica bracelet leapt out toward its target.

A second launch command signaled the replica bracelet to activate its self-closing mechanism.

And then, to avoid the obvious landing of the jewelry on the former owner’s wrist, Dr. Oggurobb had installed single-use, biodegradeable micro-repulsor lifts to gradually lower the bracelet down to the skin. The Hutt had been excessively pleased with himself.  

And then Eva was spun away in a spin of lights reflected off of the glitz and glamor of the Zeltronian pleasure palace.  

Theron led them through two more shorter waltzes, Eva following his lead as he maneuvered them around the floor; he kept their mark in his line of sight all while gliding across the dance floor, making artificial small talk with Eva.  Talked about a pet dog that didn’t exist.  Mentioned a fantasy Huttball pool that he was not a part of.  Referred to a friend she didn’t have.  

After two dances, Theron seemed to be satisfied that the pair hadn’t noticed anything amiss.  “I heard there’s a pazaak tournament starting after the late seating for supper,” Theron said off-handedly, as if this wasn’t at all planned.

“You heard right.  I was thinking of entering.”

As they stepped off the dance floor, Theron pressed a kiss to the side of her head.  “Welcome back, EC.”

…that was a beautiful thing, too.

~~

@fluffyfebruary @ayresis @starlightcleric @ermingarden @bluephoenix1347 @sarpndo -- heist fic!

[zillyeh]

Turned Tides

Technically an immediate precursor to this drabble. only cws i can really give is talks of bombing towards the end, lmk if i need to add anything here<3 Synopsis: Around 150 sweeps ago, Heiress Halosa Delhon discuss what to do with the den of rebels in the north of Delhon city, with the added input of some unfortunate guests.

Your heavy footsteps echo across the marble castle floors. The mere sound of your approach had always been enough to quiet a room, but since the execution? A pin could drop upstairs and you could hear it. You almost miss her air headed giggling as she draped herself over the throne.However.

You admit that you prefer what it's done to Heiress Halosa.

She sits motionless on her throne. Hollow. She is a shell of the Delhon you knew. You'd behead Bridal again just to watch the light leave Halosa's eyes.  

The heiress did not wear her mourning whites for long. She was already back to her caped fleet uniform. The golden rank pauldrons sat spiky and and important on her shoulders. They glinted with the rest of the gold inlaid in her uniform in the jade and pink moonlight. Even this subtle combination of colors bouncing on her lap seemed to be grimming her already sour expression.

You greet her with a kneeling bow. 

"Your highness," you say. She hardly moves but to flick her wrist- an instruction to stand. 

"Steris," she says, the gravel of her voice deeper than you've ever heard it. "Approach. We don't have time for a round table. Visitors."

"Visitors?" you ask incredulously, climbing the short few steps to her side. "Now?" A quiet Delhon castle is a Delhon castle in shambles. To bring in others before you get a moment with her is… inconvenient. For you.

"They have a solution for me." Her voice is robotic. Halosa is running low on willpower. Anyone but you would think she’s just as hard as ever, but you can see her foundations beginning to crack. Mentioning Bridal in just the right way could break her, bend her to your whims, but you need her alone.

She hums, shifting in her seat. With an unenthusiastic flourish, she bangs her serpentine scepter on the ground. The ornate main doors of the throne room open, and the quartet of trolls that enter makes your thin lip curl.

They aren't clowns of yours, but they are clowns. Masked laughsassins with Enfaris' signature gaudy frills, all except for the tall elder in the front of them. He was certainly as Enfarian as the rest, but he had the decency to mute his colors and show his face. His paint was obnoxiously intricate- they have so much time for it don't they?- and did work to fill the deep lines of his face. His hair fell around his face in thin, tight braids, beaded in green and red at the ends.

"Your 'ighness," he greets. The phlegmy yet airy dust of his accent on those two words alone make your skin crawl. The beads in his hair clatter softly as he shifts. He bares his throat in place of bowing. Whatever ailment requires his cane seems to prevent his fellows from dropping to the floor as well. Disrespectful.

"Father Jortis, I take it?" Halosa asks, not looking for an answer. "I apologize for having no announcer to your entrance. It is no secret that my court is in unacceptable disarray. Please, speak."

"It is quite alright, Madame Delhon," Jortis says, gripping the cane in front of him. You do not hide your grimace when you realize it has a honking horn at the handle. 

"My church received most disturbing news from someone in zis province," he continues, "A rather eloquent plea for assistance. I 'ave an embarrassment of my own you see: in short a few, shall I say incorrectly zealous of our church stole some of our‐ qu'est que ce- 'idden members. I am to believe their fleeing brought zem 'ere, based on my informant's descriptions."

"This should be our priority why exactly?" You can't see his angle. You don't like that. "What do you mean by hidden-"

Halosa puts up a hand again. 

"You will be addressed when you are addressed, Steris." She can't make her voice sound as scary as it used to be. Regardless, you shut your mouth, narrowing your eyes at the clowns in front of you. 

"My advisor does make a fair point, Father. You bring this to me now for the reasons I hope you do, yes?"

Jortis nods once.

"Not zat I would be so brazen as to peek into your mind, but I believe so. My informant claims to 'ave been abducted by rebels and forced to labor for zem- ones zat match ze description of my missing flock."

"Fascinating," you say, having never shut up for long before this. "Is your little informant with us tonight, Enfarian?"

"'E should be," Jortis says easily, catching you off guard. His aloofness to your own disrespect annoys you. Enfarians are so difficult to rile. "If 'e manages to-"

The doors behind the troupe open again, spilling in the last person you'd ever thought you'd see in Delhon's throne room. The guards who escort him in look like they can't get their hands off him fast enough.

"Ninefingers?" You almost can't believe your eyes. He looks genuinely afraid in a way you've never seen the Exacerbator look. He wrings his lopsided hands, warily moving beside the quartet of clowns before dropping to a bow for the Heiress.

"Your highness," he says with a shake in his voice. Closer you can see barely healed scars on his arms, and a bruise under his eye. His first finger has been replaced with something made of… wood? How barbaric. His curly hair had been pulled back tight. He looks even smaller than he already is without his mane. Crushable underfoot or under ax.

Halosa signals for him to get up, casting a wary eye at you. You step forward. He winces.

"I should strangle whatever information you have out of you, Aarika." You crack your knuckles, but Jortis and Halosa both put their arms out to keep you two from each other.

"Vionyi, fucking behave or I will force you to leave."

"Yeah, okay."

Halosa stands. She strikes you across the mouth hard enough to reverberate through the high-ceilinged hall. You swallow the bit of blood in your mouth, clenching your fists. Oh how you hate fighting the urge to do something back. Tears sting at your eyes, but you are well practiced in biting back pain. Closing your clear false lids also helps.

"We can have this conversation over your corpse if need be," she says, some of the real danger in her voice back. You grit your teeth, the hand shaped print on your face stings. Hard. 

"I apologize for my insolence, your highness," you say through tight lips. "I shall not let my emotions get the better of me again."

For a split second, you think you catch a smug little smirk on Aarika's face.

"If I may-," Aarika speaks up with the well practice shake of a fearful child. Halosa seats herself again. "I apologize as well for my- everything. My unacceptable transgressions against the Empire, what I assume is a nasty scar on the back of your leg-" You want to kill him. Never in your life have you had to contain it quite this much. Cleaving him in two would only be the start. "-all of it is my fault. After those pirates took me from- kept me under the deck until I was so wound up and starved that I-" he interrupts himself with a sob. Jortis places a hand on his shoulder. Pathetic. This was what had become of Exacerbator Ninefingers? 

"I- sometimes I feel like I'm still not fully come to. I'm sorry. That's not what I'm here for. Please forgive me." He clears his throat, shaking as he finds his composure. "When they landed last they took me here. Taking to the rebel groups. The Underground practically found him- us first."

"The Underground?" Halosa seems interested. That was your pet project for sweeps. He's going to take this from you, right under your nose. Or lack thereof.

He nods. "There’s a church, on the north side of the city. They call it the-" he shudders, as if remembering something terrible, "-the church of the Reverent. That's what they call their leader. He and a handful of others are Enfarian. You can hear it- and I've overheard things-"

Jortis seems to think that Aarika's frantic ramblings are enough. 

"I would like your permission to retrieve ze 'eads of my missing flock, your 'ighness," he says, gesturing back to his laughsassins. Ah. That's what they were there for.

"Infiltration is incredibly difficult," Aarika interjects. "There are tunnels they will use to evacuate at even the slightest hint of smoke, the-"

"Old snake tunnels, I am familiar," Halosa says, more lively than you've seen her in weeks. Ugh. "Do you know them well enough to block them off?"

He hesitates, but nods.

"They could be… encouraged to certain routes."

Halosa turns her gaze to Jortis.

"How much time would it take you, Jortis?"

"Twenty minutes if we linger," he says. His little trio of freaks nod in unison. Aarika looks just as uncomfortable as you feel with them. The welts he came in with are slower to fade than you thought they'd be. Exacerbator Ninefingers had been rumored to heal as fast as you could cut him, but you suppose not all pirate tales are true.

You are very aware of the chunk he cut out of your thigh as you stare him down. He balks under your scrutiny, reluctantly leaning towards the subjugs. You want to find something, anything about him that you can use to get him dead. His crimes against the Empire are enough, but if he uses this leverage to beg for his life now? After giving up the location to the biggest thorn in Delhon’s side?

Halosa was far too weak not to let him have it.

"If you intend to do this, I would suggest you do it soon," he says, freaky teeth moving as he speaks. "They are intending to mobilize somewhere- I'm unsure where, I would assume further north to disperse into the woods, or south to integrate into the city."

"Two very different directions," Halosa hums.

“That is by design, your highness,” Aarika says with a solemn nod. “They listen to me about… tactics. They know who I was, not who I am. I will do anything in my limited power to make sure that the one who stole your m-”

He stopped himself with a hand over his mouth, looking like he fully expected Halosa to strike him down. You wish she would. She sits up straighter in her seat, the hardness of a several thousand year old war-ender back in her eyes. When she speaks again it is a demand.

“Who stole my...”

“The unspeakably blooded rebel who stole your beloved, your highness.” Aarika dropped to the floor again in another bow. He was really laying it on thick, though you must begrudgingly admire his commitment to keeping his neck and his head attached. “You must know she is one of the Enfarians in that church. It’s where-”

“Enough.” Now Halosa Delhon’s voice was a thundercrack, reverberating off the walls louder than when she’d slapped you. “Father, you can personally see to the unmerciful, gruesome end of your ex flock?” Jortis nodded. Aarika looked up, still frightened, but for a moment the mask slipped to unfettered glee. You would see his teeth pulled out of his face and reintroduced into his eyesockets if you could. 

“Unmercifully shall tack on an ‘andful’s worth of minutes, but it can be done, easily. One of our riders has a vested interest in seeing at least one of zem dead. If I understand correctly, it is the very same.” Riders. They would have taken one of their noodly, violent dragons here. Enfarians have them to spare for every law enforcer over there. You wonder which of his troupe it is. If they aren’t out tending to it.

The shadow of a smile finds itself creasing the severe lines around Halosa’s mouth. This is bad for you. If they can just kill their leaders and get the few spies stationed to get the more egregious mutants, your position as her tactician is practically-

“Steris,” she says, alive. You stiffen. “You had plans for the city north, did you not?”

Is she serious?

“Your highness?”

“To simply kill the perpetrators of so much strife against my city is not enough,” she says cooly, rehearsing words you’d spoken to her already almost verbatim. “The rats nest must be wiped out, lest more vermin crop up. Wouldn’t you agree?”  

Something in the way you shift almost makes Aarika snort. You feel almost lightheaded. Is this truly happening? This is one of the best nights of your life. Aarika and the foreign clowns at the edge of your vision be damned, she’s actually going to go through with it.

“Of course, your highness,” you say breathlessly, “An example should be made to the rest of the city- rest of the province that you-”

“Won’t stand for this behavior from our citizens,” she finishes for you. “Contact Felzee and the other two, tell them they’ll have thirty minutes. Anyone else you find terribly important as well. Everyone else figures it out when the drones come.”

You give her a short nod.

“Shall we be walling off the rest of the city then?” She nods in return. Her control over Delhon’s drones could rival even the Empress. Shielding off just the north side would be nothing.

“Get Ninefingers to mark a map for you and Jortis.” You grimace, and he winces at being mentioned by name. “I will offer you one singular favor, Amillo Aarika, aside from sparing your life.” 

Of course she would.

Fucking of course she would.

That won’t sour your mood. Aarika could ask for a room in the castle and you’d still be over the moons. This is your idea, she’s listened to you, you are getting everything you wanted to do to that hole and more.

“A floor of the greenhouse tower in the center city,” Aarika says as if he’d been expecting this. “If you would be so generous. I- I want my life to be simple, all I’ve ever really wanted is to make-”

“I don’t care. It will be done. All of you come with me. This must be done now.”

When she stands, turning her back to your company, something in Aarika changes, shifts ever so slightly that you barely catch it. His shake stops. He seems more relaxed. He catches your eye and flashes you a smile, which you meet with a sneer. You know then that he’s also just gotten exactly what he wanted. Even if it doesn’t seem like much, you and he are united in this one desire- to see north Delhon torched.

That doesn’t sit well with you, but you have to ignore it. Right now you have a city to raze.

[yellowfingcr]

write down three qualities that your muse DOESN'T have!

// why, anything for you!

1- good natured, genuine honesty

this one needs a small preface- to heysel the quality of honesty can only be called such when it puts you at risk of hurt. you must be a honest character, in the entirety, always. it needs to be that important. it's not just sharing something true but being so convinced in the correctness of it above all and so brave that even if this utter transparency can result in cleanly displaying where it could be easiest to hurt you most you still offer it because you believe it is the correct thing to do, and especially you offer it freely. done like this honesty is beautiful to her because it is a fearless act. heysel truly, deeply respects anyone capable of that sort of honesty; and, of course, professional awful thing that she is, she absolutely doesn't possess this sort of trait. lying is kind of her favourite hobby. she's done anything she could to make herself as opaque as possible. she is genuine, but she isn't honest.

2- an actual ability to compromise

this one is funny because the thing with heysel is that, broadly speaking, you have to put up a compelling argument for her not beating you to death instead of compromising with you. she can be patient; she will listen to what you propose. but whenever faced with the possibilities of either trying to come to a verbal, nonviolent solution that sort of pleases both or the extremely violent solution that pleases her, and how wonderful it is that violence is a fast solution to a plethora of issues, know that the timer is ticking.

3- an actual interest in self-preservation

it doesn't even matter if she can come back from death or not; heysel cheerfully refuses the notion that she is much like you a being of this earth, and she can place effort into prolonging her stay into her mortal shell. there's a reason behind this, and in part- like most things-it ties to her philosophy of violence, which is in turn a philosophy of existence; and in part it's just that she sees life as beautifully fleeting; and there are other reasons and other reasons. but ultimately you are before a woman who not only really doesn't care if she gets hurt, she willingly puts herself in situations in which getting hurt is guaranteed.

[transportemx]

La telemetría ayuda al control de flotas…y también a la electromovilidad: Shell Fleet Solutions

Hugo Aguilar, director de Shell Fleet Solutions en México comparte las tendencias del uso de combustibles y telemetría en el control de flotas de transporte de carga y pasajeros. Tarde o temprano, los combustibles fósiles irán desapareciendo en beneficio de otras alternativas menos contaminantes. En ese sentido, los proveedores del autotransporte evolucionarán en su modelo de negocio para…

[simulamortem]

EGO RETENTION RELAPSES

in this house we love a messy bitch, and as it happens, Revenant's breaking his programming made him very messy.

Ego Retention can't pull him under again, but it TRIES sometimes. I call these incidents ego relapses, in which Revenant's perception gets stuck in its former state where he sees himself as human again. he KNOWS BETTER now, but that doesn't change his experiencing his human body instead of the mechanical shell - and he hates it.

after all this time acclimating to his machine body, getting stuck in his human body again feels extremely jarring. sensation is much more vivid for him in an ego relapse, especially pain. Revenant's been a bit spoiled as a simulacrum by learning that much of his chassis doesn't have much haptic to it, and he can basically switch off his perception of pain in some cases. but in an ego relapse he can't help how much things HURT, even knowing it's just in his head.

more than that, experiencing his human body again reminds him not only of the man he used to be - who he hates so much for having gotten him where he is - but also of all the violent deaths he went through under Ego Retention.

this excerpt from one of my threads puts it best I think:

"Besides the air in and out of his lungs, he could feel his damn ribs moving with each breath, and all it reminded him of was all the times he struggled for air, died a suffocating death or felt the burn of a bullet in his gut or choked on hot blood thick in his throat. The illusion of his human body may as well have been one big open wound for how many times he had SUFFERED its death."

while these relapses aren't common for him, they do have a variety of possible TRIGGERS:

EMPs or anything electrical risks damaging his neural processor in juuust the right way to kick a bit of Ego Retention back into gear

similarly, any direct physical damage to his neural processor risks a relapse

to a much lesser extent, technically any physical damage at all can risk a relapse, if his neural processor just ✨ decides to be a little bitch at that moment ✨

Revenant has made a habit of avoiding his reflection because there's always a chance he'll see his old self instead of the murderbot

though only likely to happen in the circumstances of a ship, if he's feeling relaxed enough, someone touching him very gently can sometimes trick his perception into thinking they're touching the human body instead of the machine body

when he first wakes up from sleep, especially if he wakes up in a bed, he'll sometimes go about his morning routine from when he was human until he catches himself

FIXES:

ego relapses can happen in just fleeting moments which Revenant is able to brush off - but they can also stick, in which case he usually wants to DIE as quickly as possible, as being stuck in a relapse makes him miserable and moving into a new shell is his quickest guarantee to getting back to normal.

however, he can also acclimate to some extent if getting killed isn't an immediately available solution. he just won't be happy about it, and it'll be very difficult for him to relax or feel comfortable.

there may be other ways to "fix" a relapse, but not without help; somebody Revenant trusts who could guide & ground him back to his mechanical body. the same techniques that work for helping panic attacks & dissociative episodes also have the potential to help him out of an ego relapse.

[aronarchy]

[image IDs:

bp @/bp_plc tweets,

The first step to reducing your emissions is to know where you stand. Find our your #carbonfootprint with our new calculator & share your pledge today!

Mary Annaïse Heglar @/MaryHeglar replies,

Bitch what’s yours?

.

Shell @/Shell tweets,

What are you willing to change to help reduce emissions? #EnergyDebate

Greta Thunberg @/GretaThunberg quote-tweets Shell, saying,

I don’t know about you, but I sure am willing to call-out-the-fossil-fuel-companies-for-knowingly-destroying-future-living-conditions -for-countless-generations-for profit-and-then-trying-to-distract-people-and-prevent-real-systemic-change-through-endless greenwash-campaigns.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez @/AOC quote-tweets Shell, saying,

I’m willing to hold you accountable for lying about climate change for 30 years when you secretly knew the entire time that fossil fuels emissions would destroy our planet 😇

Jamie Margolin @/Jamie_Margolin quote-tweets Shell, saying, “This you?” with a Greenpeace photograph by Denck Hingle which shows a tiny Shell skimmer trying to clean up tens of thousands of tons of oil in the ocean, visible as giant patchy red stains.

Sunrise Movement @/sunrisemvmt quote-tweets Shell, saying, “we’re gonna dismantle your company babe” along with a reaction video of a laughing woman with acrylic nails.

.

Chevron @/Chevron tweets,

Lots of talks about Fleets today, so we thought we’d introduce you to one of the biggest ones out there chevron.co/fleets

Brian Kahn @/blkahn quote-tweets Chevron, saying,

I loved learning one of your ships can transport enough oil to emit ~820,000 tons of carbon pollution. This is extremely relatable! Keep it up!!!

.

ExxonMobil @/exxonmobil tweets,

We’re all in this together! Glad to be a part of the Oil and Gas Climate Initiative – working collaboratively toward solutions to mitigate the risks of climate change. @/OGCInews

Ilhan Omar @/IlhanMN quote-tweets ExxonMobil with the “We’re all trying to find the guy who did this” meme, showing an image of a man in a hot dog costume trying to pretend he didn’t do something while a room of people behind him look on unimpressed, from I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson.

Terry Metter @/TerryMetterJr replies to @/IlhanMN, saying, “The Exxon PR people looking at the metrics RN” with two stills from the same aforementioned show showing the actor Tim Robinson saying,

I thought it was gonna be a hit!

It turns out it fucking sucks!

/end image IDs]

Good morning to everyone who is going to troll an oil company today 😇

[wexinc]

How Petrol Cards Can Help You Manage Fuel Expenses Efficiently

Fuel prices are notorious for fluctuating, and for those who depend on their vehicles for work or daily commutes, managing fuel expenses can become a headache. Whether you're an individual trying to stay within a monthly budget or a business owner managing a fleet of vehicles, finding ways to monitor and control fuel costs is essential. 

One effective tool that has gained popularity in recent years is the petrol card. These cards offer a range of benefits, from convenience and security to significant cost savings.

In this blog, let’s explore how Business petrol cards in Australia can help you manage fuel expenses efficiently, providing a smart solution for both personal and business use.

What Are Petrol Cards?

A petrol card, also known as a fuel card, is a specialised payment card that allows users to pay for fuel at designated stations. These cards function much like credit or debit cards but are exclusively used for fuel purchases. Petrol cards are available for individual use, small businesses, or larger companies that manage fleets of vehicles.

Many petrol card providers, including BP, Shell, and Caltex, offer these cards, and they come with various features designed to help users control, monitor, and reduce their fuel expenses. For businesses, petrol cards can be a powerful tool for fleet management, while individuals benefit from the ease and convenience of tracking their fuel costs.

Benefits of Using Petrol Cards for Fuel Management

2.1. Cost Control and Budgeting

One of the most significant advantages of using petrol cards is the ability to control and monitor fuel expenses effectively. Here’s how petrol cards help:

Track Fuel Expenses: With a petrol card, every transaction is automatically recorded and categorised, providing detailed information about when, where, and how much fuel was purchased. This means no more guessing or manually tracking receipts. Users can access this information through online portals or mobile apps, making it easy to keep a close eye on fuel spending.

Set Limits: Many petrol card providers allow users to set daily, weekly, or monthly spending limits. This is especially useful for businesses with multiple drivers, as it ensures that fuel expenses stay within a predetermined budget. For individuals, it can help prevent overspending and keep fuel costs in check.

Cost Prediction: Because petrol cards provide detailed reports on fuel consumption, users can better predict future fuel expenses. This makes it easier to allocate funds for fuel in personal or business budgets and avoid unexpected costs.

2.2. Discounts and Rewards

In addition to helping with cost control, petrol cards often come with perks like discounts and rewards that can further reduce fuel expenses.

Loyalty Programs: Many petrol card providers offer loyalty programs where users can earn points or receive cashback on fuel purchases. These points can then be redeemed for discounts on future fuel purchases or other rewards, such as free car washes or discounts on vehicle maintenance services. Over time, these rewards can lead to significant savings, especially for frequent drivers or businesses managing large fleets.

Access to Special Promotions: Petrol cardholders often gain access to exclusive promotions, such as lower fuel prices at certain stations or limited-time discounts on fuel. By taking advantage of these promotions, users can reduce their overall fuel costs even further.

2.3. Enhanced Convenience

Another benefit of petrol cards is the added convenience they offer.

Cashless Transactions: Petrol cards eliminate the need to carry cash or worry about finding the right payment method at the pump. Users can simply swipe or tap their petrol card at the station, making refuelling faster and more efficient. This convenience is especially valuable for those who frequently drive long distances and need to refuel regularly.

Widespread Acceptance: Most petrol cards are accepted at a wide range of fuel stations across the country. Whether you’re driving locally or taking a road trip, you can easily find a participating station where your petrol card is accepted. This widespread acceptance ensures that you won’t be stuck without a way to pay for fuel, no matter where you are.

2.4. Monitoring and Fraud Prevention

Security is always a concern when it comes to financial transactions, and petrol cards provide several features that enhance security and prevent fraud.

Transaction Transparency: Petrol cards offer transparency in every transaction. Detailed receipts are generated for each fuel purchase, showing the amount of fuel, the price per litre, and the total cost. This transparency makes it easier for users to identify any discrepancies or unusual charges, ensuring that every penny spent is accounted for.

Fraud Detection: Many fuel cards in Australia providers offer built-in fraud detection systems that monitor transactions for suspicious activity. If an unusual purchase is detected, the system may flag it for review or automatically block the card until the issue is resolved. This level of security gives users peace of mind knowing that their fuel expenses are protected.

How Petrol Cards Benefit Businesses and Fleets

While petrol cards offer benefits for individuals, they can be even more valuable for businesses, especially those managing a fleet of vehicles.

3.1. Fleet Management Efficiency

For businesses that rely on fleets of vehicles, managing fuel expenses can be a complex task. Petrol cards simplify this process by providing centralised control and detailed reporting.

Centralised Control: With petrol cards, businesses can manage fuel expenses for an entire fleet of vehicles from a single account. This centralised control makes it easier to monitor fuel consumption across the fleet, set spending limits for each vehicle, and ensure that fuel expenses stay within budget.

Driver Accountability: Petrol cards link fuel purchases directly to the driver and vehicle, ensuring that each fuel expense is tied to a specific user. This level of accountability helps businesses prevent unauthorised purchases and ensures that drivers are using company resources responsibly.

Expense Tracking for Tax Reporting: Another significant benefit for businesses is the ability to track fuel expenses accurately for tax reporting purposes. Petrol card statements provide a clear record of fuel purchases, making it easier to deduct fuel costs as business expenses when filing taxes. This can save businesses both time and money during tax season.

3.2. Time-Saving for Fleet Managers

Petrol cards also offer time-saving benefits for fleet managers, who no longer have to manually track fuel expenses or process paper receipts.

Automated Reporting: Many petrol card providers offer automated reporting systems that generate detailed reports on fuel consumption, spending, and driver activity. These reports can be customised to meet the specific needs of the business, saving fleet managers time and reducing the administrative burden.

Reduced Administrative Work: By using petrol cards, businesses can eliminate the need for drivers to submit fuel receipts and manually track expenses. This reduces the amount of paperwork involved in managing a fleet and frees up time for more important tasks.

Considerations When Choosing a Petrol Card

While petrol cards offer numerous benefits, it’s important to choose the right card for your needs. Here are a few key considerations to keep in mind when selecting a petrol card:

4.1. Card Fees and Charges

Monthly/Annual Fees: Some petrol cards come with monthly or annual fees, which can offset the potential savings from using the card. Be sure to review the fee structure before choosing a card to ensure that the benefits outweigh the costs.

Interest Rates: If the petrol card functions like a credit card, it may come with interest charges if the balance isn’t paid off in full each month. Make sure to read the terms and conditions carefully to avoid unexpected charges.

4.2. Station Network Coverage

Acceptance Across Stations: Not all petrol cards are accepted at every fuel station. It’s important to choose a card that is widely accepted in the areas where you typically refuel. If you travel frequently, look for a card with broad network coverage to ensure that you can always find a participating station.

International Usage: If you often travel abroad, consider whether the petrol card is accepted internationally. Some cards offer global acceptance, making them ideal for frequent travelers or businesses with international fleets.

4.3. Additional Services and Perks

Vehicle Maintenance: Some petrol cards offer additional benefits, such as discounts on vehicle maintenance services. If you frequently service your vehicle at the same station, this perk can add even more value to your petrol card.

Emergency Assistance: Certain petrol cards come with emergency roadside assistance, which can be a valuable safety net if you experience a breakdown or other vehicle issues while on the road.

Conclusion

Petrol cards provide a range of benefits that can help both individuals and businesses manage their fuel expenses more efficiently. From cost control and convenience to enhanced security and rewards, these cards offer a smart solution for anyone looking to save time and money on fuel. Businesses, in particular, can benefit from the streamlined expense tracking and fleet management tools that petrol cards offer.

If you're tired of unpredictable fuel costs and manual tracking, petrol cards Australia could be the solution you've been looking for. Explore the options available, choose a card that fits your needs, and take control of your fuel expenses today.

[mistfallengw2]

4, 12, and 20 for Tocchix! -couple-o-commanders

Just an asura ask game (questions are cut short in the reply)

4. How is their social life?

Tocchix was always pretty solar and friendly by nature, and while he generally has many friends and is on good terms with pretty much everyone he knows, he has a tendency to mostly stick around those friendships that make him very comfortable. Back in Metrica Province he almost exclusively hung out with Bunnie, and, after moving to Lion's Arch with his fathers, he spend most of his time just with Fynn, at least until he found Adamas and he became his adoptive brother. His first years in the Order of Whispers and the beginning of the Pact was probably the peak of making new friendships for him, but at the same time the nature of his job as an agent precluded deeper connections with most of them. After losing half of his team in Orr, he worked with Iotta for the most part (and they got together), but since she was adverse to social life (and actual dates, since she wanted to keep the relationship a secret), he spent a lot of his little free time (when she wasn't around) with family and friends.

After Iotta's multi-leveled betrayal during S2 and the following ouchy episodes that happened in S3 and S4, he progressively closed himself off from everyone until mid-IBS, focusing only on his job in a toooootally not self-destructive manner. Friends and family didn't know what to do to try to help without making matters worse, and the logical solution in his mind was to see them less to keep them from worrying. The only person that grew closer to him as a friend during that time was Ethanryel, and having his life saved by them during and right after the crash of the Pact fleet in the jungle was a pretty solid groundwork for that, along with the fact they never tried to "force" support on him.

After meeting Huki in Taimi's lab in early IBS and seeing them a bunch during a long-term covert mission with some shenanigans, they became another of those comfortable friends, and somehow they eventually managed to break into his heart and break him out of his shell. Dating them came with better balance in his life, more social occasions and a big family, and he's been awkwardly enjoying it all.

-

12. If given the chance, would they take the position of professor in one of the Colleges? Or would they prefer to become someone's mentor? What would they teach? Would they be a good teacher?

Tocchix didn't go to College nor continued his studies past early education, and his father only taught him medicine-related stuff once they opened a little hospital in Lion's Arch, so he couldn't become a professor in the Colleges even if he tried.

As for actually becoming someone's mentor, he had... quite conflicting feelings about it, at least until quite recently. Iotta was his main mentor once he joined the Order of Whispers, and he learned nearly all he knows from her. Too bad that unbeknownst to him she was Inquest and trained by one of their most ruthless operatives, so that damaged his own self-perception quite a lot, on top of the emotional implosion for the fact they had been romantically involved for over a year by the time that came up and that he had lost his mother to the Inquest. He knows what he learned from her is what makes him a great agent and that it's something worth teaching others no matter its origin, but the idea of becoming someone's mentor made him queasy. He felt like he's part of a line of mentors that eventually end up betraying their apprentice's trust (Iotta left to go back to the Inquest, and later died because of her mentor's selfishness), and he never even want to risk it.

Getting the chance to kill Iotta's mentor during a mission kinda shook things up in good and bad ways (mostly bad), but he's also gotten a few years of proper healing process since then. Since he and Huki have adopted a pair of orphaned siblings a couple years ago, he's been faced with the fact he's technically in a teaching position already, and in spite of the anxiety he's not taking it as bad as he thought. So who knows what will happen?

-

20. Has any experiment (or experience) blown up in their face?

As for experiences blowing up in his face, Tocchix's line of work in the Order of Whispers never lacks such occasions, and at times that includes other people's experiments! Raiding Inquest labs is a dangerous job no matter the objective or scale of the operation, and he has to thank his mentor for teaching him the appropriate methods and distance from which to safely damage machinery and experiments. In retrospect it kinda stings to realize she likely knew that stuff from being Inquest herself, but it sure would have stung more to be caught in the blast that one time Iotta saved him from a really close call and then berated him for close to an hour afterwards.

Other than that, he hasn't done much experimenting since his early education days, and the worst that ever happened was the occasional mini-explosion coming from his and Bunnie's golem prototypes when they were kids.

[letrune]

"Dear councillors..." Peacebroker Flanni spoke up. "I won't waste our time. The Antaludian Republic is losing territory every year. The constant war drains their neighbouring allies and the larger Galactic Committee as the Xlarik regime is spearheading a massive assault towards the core systems."

"Do we have any more civilisations we did not called in?" Someone asked.

"There is the Community of Sol." Flanni said, to which whispers started, slowly increasing in volume. All eyes turned to the seats, empty. The Community of Sol was under a special arrangement since the war started. A couple mercenaries from Sol went to the frontlines but nobody dared to believe the rumours.

"We must have some other solution?" Someone else asked. Peacebroker Flanni shook her head.

"I am afraid not. The Xlarik regime started bombarding outposts of numerous of our members, so I have no other option but to put forth the vote: will we call in the Community of Sol for this war?"

Uneasily, the votes started. The yes outnumbered the abstains, only two no votes. Flanni sighed.

"Then it is settled." As she stepped down, she muttered to herself: "Now we summon the apocalypse."

"Peacebroker... I got the first report." Miali whispered to Flanni. She took the dataseed and opened it to see what was in it.

The CSWS Deathdirge arrived to the Antaludian frontlines two days after the vote. The behemoth of a ship opened fire on the Xlarik ships and utterly decimated them, their energy shields unable to block the shells and rockets from the human war machine.

Elsewhere, the CSWS Prometheus and the CSWS Antaludia Cheers had broke a siege of fifty planetburners. The report did not indicated what sort of ships Sol sent there, but the report stated that there were no survivors from the Xlarik side.

The CSWS Spear of Pericles was leading a counterattack, alone, and managed to hold the entire fourth fleet at bay.

Flanni skipped a bit on the report, arriving to the second portion.

The CSS Breadbasket, a trade ship, arrived to the besieged frontlines and made sure every Antaludian citizen who remains had enough food for two months, and when met Xlarik scouts, blew them up. Flanni was curious if it meant the Breadbasket had guards or the ship itself was armed.

CSS Antaludian Choir, a new ship, had rescued a million stuck behind enemy lines from a space station.

Flanni skipped again.

The final report says that the frontlines are being pushed back, the shortages are being alleviated, and about ten million volunteer doctors arrived to treat the injured, on their private ships, before the official Sol medical teams.

Within four days, the losing war turned around. The Homo Sol was kept away from this, and now they could get their share, they jumped in, fresh and full of energy. Flanni shruddered what would they do if they would not be so friendly.

For 10 long years war has raged while the Galactic Committee held a tight leash on the humans; stating “We do things a certain way”. Now, with the enemy closing in, the leash comes off.