#sucks but at least i have a semi recent save???

[rnoonjelly]

Was having a Sims 4 glitch where I could no longer change traits of my sims (in cas.fulleditmode) without the game freezing 90% of the button functions after... which is bad because I have poses downloaded to show up under certain traits - so it prevented me from posing my sims in CAS when clicking traits

Thought it was some shitty cc I downloaded, turns out it was a new glitch that occurs alongside the "Growing Together" expansion pack which makes it so that if you accept any changes in your sims personality during the gameplay (you get popups that allow your sim to change their own personality traits with this pack) you can no longer change their personality in CAS without the game freezing a lot of buttons until you leave cas or exit the game 😭😭

So now I've deleted my current save and entered the last working save file from my last backup before I accepted new personality traits during the session..... which was over a week ago.... goodbye progress </3

[lostintransist]

Liaison | Part 5 | Big Austrian Bastard

Check out part 1 here. Check out the rest of the story on AO3, up to chapter 33 over there.

After you won the bet with Ghost you became something of a tourist attraction. Every man who moved through the office would stop by your desk. Often you were on a phone but many would wait for a chance to ask how you won the bet with Ghost or if you had any dating advice. When Roach finally appeared back in the office after a month you asked him about it.

“Why does it feel like my desk is the hottest place to be in the office? Don’t these guys have paperwork to be doing?”

Roach replies, the clack of his keys not even faded before the message hits your screen.

>No one deals with Ghost like you do. Word has gotten around that you two fight and he loses more often than he wins.

“I can’t say that I think he has won once.”

>Exactly, plus everyone wants to witness another showdown. Anyone who wasn’t at the bar when you took that hot redhead home has heard the story about a dozen times from someone who has. Plus all the bets on what crazy nonsense you two will fight about next. And I know at least some of the guys want to know how you got such a bombshell to go home with you.

It takes three reads over the message before you are semi-confident that you understood everything.

“How much money is in these betting pools?” You rub a single finger against the headache forming behind your forehead.

>Would say a several thousand at this point.

“And what exactly was the defining moment that everyone decided to start taking bets?” You have a sneaking suspicion you know what it was.

>The lap dancer.

“Yeah,” you suck your teeth, “I thought that might have been it. Now for the record Roach and you tell this to anyone who will listen; I didn’t know he had already booked her. It’s not my fault she chose my pretty face over his ugly mask. And if he could string two sentences together to a woman that didn’t leave her wanting to slap him he wouldn’t have to pay for company in or out of his bed.”

>Behind you.

“Thanks, Roach,” you deadpan, “What a great job saving the day.”

Spinning around you see Ghost standing at the edge of your desk.

“You know I think you would pay for male company as well, I’m not really one to judge.”

Without a word, he drops several files on your desk and turns on his heel leaving you and Roach with more questions than before. Not picking a fight over your words felt outside of Ghost’s character. You tuck the information away for later. No one had died recently and there were no issues with any other companies or governments. No obvious reasons surfaced as to his dour mood.

Your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number.

>Can you make gingersnaps?

<Yes. Fresh ginger okay?

>👍

<Should have a dozen ready by 3.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you unplug your computer. You’ve figured out how to read emails while creaming butter by hand. Emails consumed you as grated ginger and sifted flour into your wet ingredients. Once the dough had started chilling you got a call. It took twenty minutes to look up the temperature conversion to turn on the oven since the other party had some extremely specific requests and questions that had you searching skills and cross-referencing times when certain guys would be free.

“Okay, for the final time, the timeline you need this job completed on will not allow for me to get Price and Reb on the same job. I have a different sniper who can complete the task or I can have a different lead but they are not available at the same time,” You wave at Harold as he leads a beast of a man down the hall. “At this point, you can trust me to schedule a team who can handle the task or I can send you the contact info for my counterpart at KorTac.”

You rattled off the number for KorTac as the cookies came out of the oven. Disconnecting the call you stretched your arms high and set about moving the cookies to the rack to cool down. In the five minutes they take to cool you reply to seven emails. God, you needed to talk to Kate about an assistant. The number of emails was becoming untenable. Storing the cookies in a dish you hide in your cabinet you take a quick picture of the completed request.

Cleaning up from baking had become its own soothing ritual. Once you have everything set out to dry you head back down the hall. You forget to send the text message since an email reply comes into a proposal you had just sent off.

“If those motherfuckers want to change up the date again…“ you mumble to yourself.

You kick something as you approach your desk. The beast of a man Harold had walked back to the desks is reclined in your chair and snoring. You can’t tell past the sniper’s hood draped across his head if he is asleep. Looking around you find the bay of computers empty. With a sigh, you set your computer awkwardly on the desk and remember your message about the cookies.

Sending the message a phone ding sounds before you. The man rouses, pulls a phone from his pocket, checks the message, and startles when he sees you standing at his feet.

“You the one who wanted the gingersnaps?” You ask carefully. One man in a mask you know could almost be considered a friend, the other firmly a foe.

“Ja.” He stands, towering over your frame.

Blowing a breath out your nose you make a decision. Better to have fewer foes if possible.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where I put your cookies.”

The only sound following you is the rare swish of fabric. Stepping into the kitchen you open the cabinet that held your cookies. Pulling them down you place them in his waiting hands. More men covering up like the devil would worm his way in through any flash of flesh. This man wore gloves too.

“Ah! Liaison you found the big Austrian bastard! We’ve been all over the office looking for him.”

If you hadn’t been standing so close to him you would have missed the flinch in the big man. Something about someone so strong-looking taking pain from words wormed into your heart.

“Tactic I swear to god if you don’t think before you speak.” You snap at him. “Obviously this man is on loan to the 141 and you know what we don’t do to people who are here to help us? We don’t insult them. It makes my job to fucking hard when you can’t keep your jackass statements inside.”

Tactic’s mouth shut with a click.

“Anything else clever to say?” you push.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to my friend here.”

“Sorry König.”

Spence, who had been standing behind Tactic, fled the moment your tone turned angry.

“Now unless you have a hard leave time I am going to sit down and enjoy some cookies with Konig and will deliver him to a conference room when we are done. Got a problem with that?” You aggressively lifted a brow at Tactic.

He backed out of the kitchen slowly.

“Whatever you say Liaison, sorry again König.”

With a huff, you turned back around and smiled up at the big man.

“Do you want to sit down and enjoy your cookies? I appreciate any feedback you can give.”

He looked you over, neither his expression nor his body language giving away his thoughts. König sits at one table, pushing out another chair with the toe of his boot. Settling in you wait to see what he does next. You fold your arms and rest them on the table.

“We friends?”

You find him watching you with guarded eyes.

“Do you want to be friends?”

“Ja. Name is König, not Konig.”

You repeat his name a few times to solidify the pronunciation in your brain.

“Okay, well you’re my first friend here so I will now text you random updates on my life. Feel free to do the same.”

Sitting in silence you tap out random beats on your fingers as König lifts his cowl to eat his treat.

“Da cookies are good.”

You send him a bright smile. “I’m glad you like them. Whenever you are ready I can deliver you to the conference room.”

He nods once before closing the container of cookies. He stands and slides the whole box into a side pocket on his pants. There isn’t even a bulge against the fabric. You can’t prevent a sneer at the now offensive pants.

The tension rises in König, you can feel it wafting off him in waves.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the patriarchy that doesn’t give me pockets I can hide cookies in without getting caught,” you fold your arms and puff air into your cheeks.

The booming laughter from König brings a smile to your face. It sounded rusty as if he didn’t get a chance to use it often.

Part 4

Masterlist @nicroyal02

[arcane-ish]

Okay, so about Mel

I have a lot of Mel fans on my "following" list, so know I'm on a different place than most of them. I thought I would still sit down as a more casual Mel enjoyer and try to explain why I listed Mel as one of the better things in the last arc and genuinely read her as having one of the better arcs.

First let me say, I think I get some of the disappointment. There apparently was a lot of acrimony in fandom. And there sadly is often always a lot of bitching about being right. It's also one of those really annoying instincts for fannish people to value being right or getting character/ship payoff over quality. The kind of crappy shows or reasons I've seen people defend just because their ship was in it.

And I include myself within that. Two of my favorite ships, Timebomb and Zaundads got some stuff, and that has deeply clouded my perception of the season, even though my more neutral opinion is that season 2 was extremely spotty.

I get that from "I had to fight people in fandom" point of view, Act 3 sucked. I get that from a personal fan engagement point of view, it is always easier to stay excited and produce media if have a ship to hold on to rather than just being the fan of a singular character.

I'm kind of in a special situation, that I've always lowkey not liked Jayce and really only found him tolerable around Mel. I thought the beginning of Act 3 was still reasonably respectful to them. They protect each other, they do a couple fight with each other.

Yes it's weird that Jayce brings up now of all times to complain about the past, but for me that was pretty much wrapped by them fighting together against Viktor. Then we have this moment where Mel explains her situation to Jayce, we have Jayce complimenting her. Honestly, before the last minutes went full on "zomg, looping timeline gifts and zapping into space together", I thought the MelJay was a bit muted, but decent enough in a finale that was generally super busy and where tons of other characters didn't have too deep writing either. But again, I see where characters wound up, completely changed people's perception of how they get there (ie that Mel and Jayce actually had a decent relationship throughout most of the show and that in my opinion both Jayce and Viktor always and Cait and Vi recently had some really spotty writing).

Somethign that is more easy for me to bear, because, like I said, I never liked Jayce that much, so it's easier for me to not care.

Everybody's Arc Was Kind Of Shit And Mel Was One Of The Better Ones

This is my basic premise of season 2. If I think of season 2, if I think of the characters who to me had the better arcs I come up with for example Sevika and Ekko.

They had better arcs because they stayed roughly in characters, formed some new relationships, got some badass moments and ended up in interesting places in the end. However both their arcs BRUTALLY suffered by lack of airtime and often missing from episodes or even arcs like Ekko.

I think Jinx had one of the better arcs, because it was very emotional and poignant, was constantly present, but even if felt choppy and all over the place at times and people are mixed on where it ended up.

I guess Jayce counts as somebody with a really meaty arc with lots of airtime, emotion, ending up in a different place, getting hero moments, saving the day etc. But like I said, I dislike Jayce too much to really think about whether his story was actually good this season.

I count Mel as among the better arcs, because she got at least semi-constent airtime, she imo stayed generally in character, she got to be badass, she ends up in a very interesting situation and they tried to be emotionally poigant with her and Ambessa. (her killing Ambessa giving major Jinx and Silco vibes even if the context was completely different) The pain of Mel's storyline has always been that she was a bit isolated from other characters, so I was happy that she at least got a badass fight together with Caitlyn. [honestly, in retrospect it's noteworthy that Mel got that spot with Caitlyn rather than Caitlyn fighting side by side with either her love Vi or her nemesis Jinx]

Just getting a badass fight isn't the same as actually getting poignant moments and developing a relationship with new characters. So that was definitely missing. People are just prone to not care as much about Mel's relationship with Ambessa, LeBlanc or Kino because from the point of view of the audience those are side or new characters and the audience only cares if the show really puts a ton of work in like in the case of Isha.

Overall the gist of Mel's storyline to me is that it seemed to be very League dictated. It's the origin story of Mel as a badass fighter, it sets up her character premise.

TBSkyen, a well known content creator in the League of Legends space, "reacted" to Arcane and he got quite angry at the finale, exclaiming something along the lines of "I thought this was gonna be a closed story, that the characters would complete their stories. But these stories are not complete, this is a sequel tease".

And that's exactly why Mel's story feels unfinished. She feels like she's part of that sequel tease (together with Cait looking at those strange map, maybe hinting at an alive Jinx).

There's a chance that Mel will get a proper resolution. But to be honest. I can't promise that. Maybe she'll get a badass Noxus based either animated or live action sequel... but we might have to wait 5-10 years for it.

Maybe the "Ambessa" novel is actually 95% about her. Maybe she will get a badass intro trailer like Ambessa. But I'm not gonna lie, even if the next season of League will be heavily Noxus based and they make heavy use of Mel in it. I'm not gonna lie, League's story telling can be very, very spotty. And even when it is decent, not everybody is particularly into collecting their infomation from short stories, splash arts, music vids, in game voice lines.

[thithesandofferings]

Duel Master

Title: Duel Masters

Pairing: Seto Kaiba x Joey Wheeler

Synopsis: Kaiba is simply tired of hearing a dog barking

Tags: 18+ MDNI. Degradation. Dubcon(??)(Joey likes it but sucks at saying it) Petplay. BDSM. Praise. Semi-Public. Choking. Grinding. Obsession. Sex lol. Kaiba gets called Master like-once. Kaiba also refers to Joey as everything but his first name.

A/N: I've had this fic in the drafts for like a year...s. I recently found it and made the conscious decision that more filth needed to be out there with the two love birds. I barely edited this so like- beware lol. Also want to give a shoutout to @alectoperdita for making me obsess over those two. Also thank you @forgetbeam for the dividers!

It's the same scenario every time between them. Every. Single. Time. Kaiba could almost time it. He does think about timing it, but the thought gets shoved away because that feels like victory- and not his.  When they duel, the bickering starts and never stops. At least until one of them is defeated. Usually Wheeler. Saying that would get the blonde's annoying mouth running again. Kaiba was already forming a headache just from his constant jabs while they sat in the waiting room. They're older now, you'd think this would be over now.

“I was just outta practice, I could beat you anytime Kaiba”

“That was just beginners luck anyways- it's not like i've been playing everyday unlike you”

“Listen here shitty Kaiba, we can fight here and now and I promise i'll beatcha this time- i swear it”

“Oh so you're just as stuck up as when we were teens huh? Can't even talk to a lowlife like me hah!? What, you think I'm some kind of nobody!? You think-”

“ What I think, Wheeler, is that you are completely incapable of closing your disgusting muzzle. I am finished hearing your incessant yapping.”

There’s stunned silence for a few blissful seconds and Kaiba nearly groans at the stuttering that begins to fall out of the blonde's mouth. He doesn't look much different since the last time that he’s seen him. His stupid hair is just a tad shorter and it seems that he carries a little bit more muscle than he used to. 

He tries not to focus on that thought. 

Or the thoughts of once and for all, shutting Wheeler up himself. Kaiba very well knows that he is capable of getting that perpetually loud mouth to believe in silence- even if it's for a few blissful seconds. Kaiba goes out of his way to be meaner to Joey than anyone he’s ever encountered. He’s not sure he’s ever spoken to someone so degradingly, no matter if that's what everyone expects from the foul-mouthed CEO. 

But something about Joey Wheeler is different. 

Despite the cold harsh words, he’s seen Wheeler react to them. Hates to mention in his mind that he may have obsessed over every quirk after every insult spilled. Noticed how the loud mouth's chest would hitch at dog comments. Sweat -dropping when Kaiba would tell him to get on his knees and beg. Could see the indecision for just a few seconds like he wanted to do it, like he-.

Knows how much he himself would enjoy putting the mutt in his place. 

“Why don't you make me, asshole?” Kaiba almost didn't catch his words.Too busy thinking about finally putting Wheeler in his place makes his words jarring to hear.  Not only were they across the room, but Wheeler had whispered them. As if he didnt want Kaiba to actually catch what he had said. 

“Fine.” Kaiba says without thinking. “They say old dogs dont learn new tricks, but I think you can make an exception right Wheeler?” He drags the last of the words out in a deep hum before he lifts up from the chair and toward the now shaking blonde. 

“Wait now hold on Kaiba- dude wait-” Joey head begins to search around the room as if looking for help and only just barely clenching his teeth in a curse when he realizes they are indeed alone. Holding both his hands out defensively as if that's going to save him from the wrath of the CEO. 

Does he even know that he’s being caged into a wall? Maybe he is a little stupid, but Kaiba has found that bit to be surprisingly endearing. Maybe stray dogs need extra care. A quick glance at his watch settles the matter that he- does in fact, have the time to train. . 

“I thought you wanted me to shut you up Wheeler. You asked for this. Now,” He brings up both his hands right next to the blonde's head, completely capturing him in. Leaning close enough to his ear, huffing a breath only to watch the other jump back and shake a little. 

Mmmm this might be time well spent after all.

“Are you able to be a good boy and shut that cute little mouth of yours?”  Kaiba is not in the habit of praising but no amount of money in the world could give him the rush of feeling as it did when Joey-( headstrong, back talking, bratty to a fault, )Wheeler drops his shoulders and whimpers.

Kaiba hummed, brushing his fingers along the edge of the man's jaw, smirking at another heated shiver that followed. “That all it took, Dog? After all that yapping and you show your belly before I can even properly punish you. You’re kind of a slut aren't you Wheeler? You’ve wanted this all along hm?”

Joey sputters at the full audacity of the CEO. He cant even fathom the words coming out of Kaibas mouth-

“Look ion know who you think you are but-” He’s blatantly interrupted when Kaiba tilts his chin and presses his lips to Joeys’, demanding entrance. 

The blonde isn't budging though, making sure his protests were heard throughout the muffling of his lips. He’s trying to push him off, ignoring the passing thought of how strong Kaiba is. How he can feel the muscle clenching and not budging as Joey pushes. The brunette wasn't giving up either, kicking Joey's legs apart to push his right thigh against Joey's (embarrassingly) already hardening length. Taking his empty hand on the wall and holding Joey's hips as he rocks him back and forth on his clothed thigh. 

Joey stuttered out a gasp, grappling his hands on broad shoulders as his hips are moved with force. Kaiba took the initiative to intertwine his tongue with the distracted Joey.  Licking inside his mouth, tasting all that he could. A sultry groan catches at Kaibas throat when he grabs the blondes opening Wheeler's jaw wider, tilting it to taste him even deeper. 

God he wanted to devour this man.

It doesn't help that the more he kisses the blonde, the louder he gets. 

And that just won't do. 

Kaiba backs his head away, letting the blonde almost chase after him. And continues to hold his jaw, forcing whatever Wheeler says to come out like muffled grunts. 

“You’re barking too loud, Wheeler, you want everyone to hear those slutty little noises you’re making?” Kaiba grins becomes almost maniacal when he feels the blonde's dick jump on his lap at the thought.

“I know how it is Wheeler, you’re just a whiny little puppy that wants attention don't you? Hm? You want everyone to come in and see you begging for my dick? I’m sure you've wanted that for a long time, wanting all your friends to see you on all fours begging. Thats ok,  Wheeler- I'll think about giving you what you ask, for if you bark loud enough.” The more Kaiba speaks, the redder and choked up the blonde gets. Hiccuping and trying to say something. The last part has him nearly wilting when the CEO grips his cheeks a little harder and shakes his head back and forth, cooing at him as if he’s a beloved dog. 

Doesn't matter if Kaiba is drooling for this as much as Joey is.

“It’s sad that I didn’t bring that gag along to get you to shut up, but my fingers will have to do for now. Get them wet pup” Joey chortles and tries to say something witty, but the cold look and the drag of his cock against Kaiba's thigh is enough for him to reluctantly open wide. 

He looks pretty like this. Kaiba thinks as Joey takes in two long digits. He immediately shoves them to the back of the blonde's throat making him gag and sputter indignant, tears brushing his pleading blue eyes as he looks up to Kaiba. The CEO can't help but grin when he  grabs the pup's hips again, pressing down harder and rocking him in slow measured thrust against his thigh. Never taking his eyes off of him, giving little to the imagination of what it would feel like if Joey was under him. And he will be, if Kaiba has anything to say about it. 

Joey was practically drooling all over his fingers,his tongue licking up and down and its so wet- dripping from his chin along his chest. Fuck he looks good like this. Eyes peering blurrily up and blinking slowly. A show of unmatched devotion.  The blondes moans were absolutely driving him batshit insane. He’s going to be seeing those eyes in his dreams for weeks. Its so uncharacteristic of Joey's general personality that it has the brunettes cock absolutely leaking. How embarrassing. 

Kaiba thinks that they have had clothes on long enough. 

He takes his three fingers out with a slick sound that makes Kaiba grin and Wheeler blush even out past his neck. The thought passes of how he still has any blood left in his face when his dick was straining so hard in his pants. They looked quite uncomfortable. Good thing Kaiba took good care of his things. 

“Lay down” He gestures to the couch. A defiant look flashes through Joey's face and Kaiba sighs before he grabs the blonde by the nape of his hair and shoves him to his knees. Pushing him halfway on the couch, face pressing into the cushions while his knees scraped the floor. 

“I don't like when mutts don't listen. You do as I say because that's what you wanted right?” Joey stays silent, but that doesnt give Kaiba the satisfaction he needs. so he yanks him back up, shuddering a tad when he hears a desperate moan fall from Wheeler's lips. 

“Right? Say it mutt, or I’ll be the only one coming. The only thing you’ll be doing is licking up my wasted cum.” That seems to kick him into gear because he’s moaning and rutting muffled affirmations to him. Cracked vowels are lost when Kaiba shoves his face into the cushions again. 

“I knew you could be a good little slutty pup, you just need a firm hand?” Kaiba coos,bending over to whisper in his ear- making sure his tone makes his cute blonde feel as humiliated as possible. It only shocks him a little when Joey just whines even louder and brushes his ass teasingly back and forth on Kaiba's cock. Making him shove his hips back just to keep his excited pup still. 

Kaiba won't admit it, but that little show of submission and acceptance has him close enough to come. This sexual tension was built on for years, he would never have thought Wheeler would finally break down and let the CEO have him completely. 

The very thought of owning Joey, collar and all, snaps something inside of Kaiba and he’s letting go of Joey's hips and hurriedly shoving his tight pants down, putting the blonde's ass on display. Cant help but add a few spanks, watching greedily as his cheeks grow as red as the blondes face. Hunger spikes through Kaiba's stomach thinking about how beautiful his pup would look marked up. And he tells him exactly that. Only to be surprised yet again when Joey pushes back with a delicious wiggle and lets out a keen Kaiba never thought he would hear. 

“Next time, if you're a good little pupslut then maybe i’ll consider giving you a spank for good behavior.'' He wants to so badly, but the glance at the watch tells him that he doesn't have long before the others come searching for Joey after the finished match. 

Kaiba reaches inside his coat and retrieves the lube he knows he’s had, thinking that this moment could happen anytime and Kaiba was always prepared. So wishful thinking did in fact work.

Joey gives an indignant squawk when he feels cool wetness press into his hole.

“Where the hell did you get lube - hah fuck- what are you some kind of perve-'' He cuts himself off with a choked off moan when two of Kaiba's fingers enter him roughly. Kaiba's continuous bemusement is not thwarted in the slightest when they go in smoothly. 

“You touched your cute little puppyhole today? Did you think of me? Knew you were gonna see me later today and just couldn't help yourself could you Wheeler. You do this every time you see me? Hope I'll get mad enough and take you where you stand?” Joey whimpered as the brunette curled his fingers and pounded his prostate, dragging along with every word he uttered. The blonde outright moaned and clenched when Kaiba hooked his fingers grinding into the little button, hiccuping barely there words into his hands.. 

“You’re so talkative and now when I ask you questions you suddenly can't speak. Where's that bratty mouth gone huh, answer me” It doesn’t help Joey at all when Kaiba adds another finger, his face becoming scarlet as the squelching of his hole gets louder. 

“I- fuck- I, Im-” Joey can barely choke out words and Kaiba silences him, raising his hips up higher, at an angle that he knows will have the blonde screaming. 

“Wheeler, you're making me consider getting a pet, you wanna be my puppy huh? You wanna be a good boy for me?” Kaiba knows he’s got him for good when he leans closer to the pup's neck and groans in his ear. 

“You know what you have to do, mutt. Beg. Beg and you’ll get that treat you've been slobbering over for years'' He slides his fingers out with a wet squelch and he shushes Joey’s embarrassed cry at the noise. Kaiba knows he wants to hear him as clear as day, the CEO will come to this for weeks. 

It certainly doesn't help when Joey looks at him like he’s hung the moon. Teary eyes and red lips look back at him, breath hitching from exertion. He seems to be thinking about what he says, closing his eyes and yelping when Kaiba smacks his ass, knowing he wants him to look at the brunette when he pleads. 

“Please- Kai- Sir uh Master I- Please!” He huffs in irritation, shoving his face into the couch cushions before trying again. 

“Please Master, Ive been a good boy, please f-fuck me” Just hearing the blonde begging has Kaiba turning him around on his back and unto the floor. 

He’s been wanting that look from Wheeler for so long. And god those sounds he makes when Kaiba opens his pants and lets his cock out. Tip red and straining. Twitching at the thought of having Joey finally underneath him. Where he belonged. 

“Wait- No!! Kaiba, that things monstrous!! I'm not having that thing inside-” A hand clamps down on Joey's throat catching the last of the blondes sentence. Squeezing firmly enough to let the pup know who’s in charge, Kaiba just hums and brushes his nose against his ear. 

“My hand looks better than any  collar I've ever thought about giving you” Joey's eyes flutter at the realization that Kaiba has thought about this as much as he has. 

Assuming that he’s placated Joey for now, he brings his hips back and grabs the base of his cock angling it into the pup's wet hole, hissing at the slight pain. He had neglected himself too long. 

He huffs out a breath when the head breaches the pink rim and decides to push past it, knowing that if he was to savor it he would come and the fun would be over. 

Joey lets out a long whine as he feels Kaiba sheaths his way inside him. Lips parting wide in a choked off moan, his body spasming and cock jerking with pleasure as Kaiba bears down deep, his head rubbing immediately against the blonde's prostate. God he was so big, and he hates that because of course he is. 

“Come on pup breathe, youre taking my cock whether you like it or not so i'd suggest you do something to help yourself.” Kaiba does a tentative thrust, grinning when Joey turns his head to the side. 

Its cute that he’s pouting. 

“I know how bad you’re craving it, just give in like you’ve always wanted.” The low whisper traces alongside his ear sending a shiver down Joey's spine, making his hole clench down on Kaiba's deliciously. 

Every thrust has Kaiba experimentally going deeper and pushing just a little more, breaking down Joey’s walls. The blonde has to grit his teeth as he feels his mind blanking out, heat blooms at the pit of his stomach. Kaiba with his sadistic intuition, grazes his hand past his pretty pink cock and pressing down on the blondes lower stomach. Making Joey howl at the sensation of him feeling so full. He tried moving away with cries and pleading, but the CEO just growls and grabs his hips, shoving him roughly back down on his dick in revenge. Knowing that at this point if anyone was to walk past the room, everyone would know what they were doing. 

“You’re moving so much, maybe I should put a leash on you next time?” Twisting the blonde's nipples as he tilts the blondes hips higher and bringing his leg over his shoulder, it makes him shriek and Kaiba has to clap his hand over his mouth in glee. Doesnt stop him from fucking him even harder, wet slaps echoing harshly through the room as he takes his yapping puppy apart. 

“You wanna come home with me you little mutt? Want your master to feed his come into your greedy hole?” Joey shakes his head vigorously, closing his eyes as his face is further tucked into Kaiba's shirt. Caressing the blondes head as Kaiba slows down and buries himself to the hilt. Mumbles of faint “Kaiba’s” are the only thing heard in the empty room. 

Fuck Kaiba thinks he could do this forever. 

The way that Joey is gripping his white coat like a lifeline, muscled legs holding onto Kaiba's waist, barely moving- afraid the brunettes cock will slip out and it will all be over.

It makes the CEO  oddly possessive. To have his feelings returned tenfold and have Joey a whimpering mess feels like more victory than when his father died. He doesnt plan on this achievement leaving anytime soon. Joey is Kaibas’ now. 

Grinding their hips in slow circular motion, he’s overjoyed when he sees big crocodile tears start to fall on his pup's face. He keeps the torturous pace until Joey is sobbing in pleasure into his hand as he comes hard. The blonde starts to hit Kaiba's chest when he still continues to rock into him, slow and insistent, matching the rhythm exactly when he grabs Joey’s cock- until he is coming again. Screaming into Kaibas hand, spit and tears soaking every piece of skin between them. Cock twitching as it dribbles out onto Kaiba's infamous white coat. 

“K-kaiba please i-i want, fuck i want it please- I need it inside” 

He’s begging Kaiba to come inside him and this just makes Kaiba coo and grin again as he pulls out and lifts his shirt up and comes all over Joey's hiccuping chest. Grinning cheekily when he hears Joey’s whine in dismay as he smears it in, smoothing it all over his nipples and brings his hands up, gripping the blondes neck again. 

“Now, you know who you belong to mutt”

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 13 || 642 Words || Read on Ao3 —

“You need to reduce the heat or it’s going to burn, Lily.”

Lily’s standing, wooden spoon in hand, next to their station’s stovetop while keeping a watchful eye on the bubbling Thai curry. With a sigh of exasperation and an annoyed look at where her partner stands at the opposite tabletop chopping herbs, she shakes her head. “We’re running out of time, this will help it reduce faster.”

“No it won’t,” he has the audacity to laugh. Turning his attention to her, she’s struck again by the ease in his movements—just as she was when the instructor had pointed to her tabletop when he ambled into the room. “Is that why you’re here? You keep burning everything?”

Her cheeks flush and she looks away. She was here because she had semi-recently broken it off with her long-term boyfriend and had moved out of their shared flat, only to realize that she couldn’t keep surviving off takeaway and frozen dinners. Ethan had always seen cooking as a hobby and had taken charge every time they’d stayed in for dinner. It only took Lily three ruined pans to throw in the metaphorical towel and suck up her pride enough to sign up for this cooking class.

Which, of course, turned out to be for couples.

Luckily, she hadn’t been the only one to miss that memo (which really should’ve been better-advertised because she’s sure she wasn’t the first one to show up to class, and was absolutely mortified when the instructor asked if her partner was coming.) She had certainly not been the last, for a few minutes after Lily settled at her countertop, dodging the pitying (sometimes amused) glances the rest of class threw at her, James Potter walked through the door only to be met with the same slap of realization.

The instructor had tittered something about fate and happy accidents and motioned him to sit beside Lily with a wide smile. She had been grateful to not have to be pity-partnered with the instructor herself, but as soon as he had sat down next to her and opened his mouth, she had wondered if that was still an option. (“So, we’re both bad at cooking and bad at reading, eh?”)

Shaking the embarrassment of his words from his chopping station, she gives the curry a stir as she stares into the pan. “Why are you here? To stroke your own ego?” Another glance behind her, and he’s chopping fast, though not very precise (at least if the irregularity of the courgette pieces in the dish are any indication). “Are you some kind of cooking prodigy just wanting a hit of serotonin?”

He looks at her over his shoulder, continuing to chop the coriander. “I’ll have you know—”

“Careful, James!”

Her shout stops him in his tracks, just in time to save the tips of his fingers.

Okay, so he definitely wasn’t some sort of prodigy. 

“We’ve got about ten minutes left of class, everyone! Go ahead and take the curry and the rice off the heat and begin to dish it amongst yourselves.”

Lily’s eyes fly over to her partner’s in wide-eyed shock and she’s met with a similar expression.

“The rice—”

“Shit,” she breathes, her attention now skirting behind him to where the bag of rice sits on the counter, untouched by either of them. She faintly registers his eyes looking past her until a sizzling sound has her twirling on her heel, only to see the curry boiling over the sides of the pan.

“Christ, we’re rubbish at this,” James laughs from her right, bringing over a fresh kitchen towel as she turns off the burner entirely. She looks over at him to find a grin on his face, eyes sparkling as they turn from the mess to her. “I can’t wait to see what we burn next week.”

[offworldlamb-writes]

For the writing-types that have recently followed, heres my primary writblr: offworldlamb-nanowrimo

I write fantasy, high fantasy, and some modern(ish) day fiction. Gotta say, I love characters, places and situations to the point that I stopped writing fanfiction to focus more on my own. Participating in NaNoWriMo is one of my fave things, so if you want a blog to follow that posts semi-frequently at that time that's me!

Current projects are:

3Kingdoms: two friends are searching for a cure for a wasting disease only called 'the decay' that affects anything that channels magic, including the planet itself. High fantasy, based off an old Tales of Symphonia fanfic called 'Aftertales'.

The Runaway Princess/Adaw: the heir of the fair folk royal family is gathering help for his homeland to finally gain independence from the overbearing king of the neighbouring country, and enlists the help of a local witch with a sinister reputation. Another high fantasy, inspired by Wales and Welsh mythology.

The Waywards: ScanTech own the city and everything made inside its walls. It's no surprise that there's a thriving underground beneath the Ocean of Lights, thanks in large part to the endless piles of scrap thrown out on a daily basis. The best way to spend your time and hard earned keep? Betting on MEC suit fights and races, obviously. (Not a lot of this one up just yet)

Aspects and Everlongs: a wicked figure works from the shadows to grant themselves immortality and ultimate power, no matter the cost. Over the course of three hundred years there are people working to prevent the worst from coming true: an Everlong (a human cursed by a demon), an Aspect (someone or something granted deep power by super/natural means), and an animated scarecrow guarding the castle ruins where everything started. Fantasy set in Wales. (nothing on tumblr yet)

The No Headphones Rule Sucks: first original fiction. Claudia always knew she was a third wheel, but seventh? That was just a little too much, and it was only the first week of Sixth Form.

The Midnight Cafe: In an attempts at getting away from an awful relationship Deacon winds up in a little university town, working in a cafe called Ground In Reality. The staff are nice, but they're always talking about events that never happened in the cafe. At least not during the day...

And my one fanfiction:

The View From the Farm: Saving up to move away is difficult when there's no local jobs and your best skills are in IT. So surviving another six months in the Valley are Sebastian's best option.

I swear not everything is set in/inspired by Wales, I just love it here.

Will add favourite OCs soon!

Banner by @cafekitsune

[broken-clover]

12- Belonging

Tbh I just like having an excuse to toss in as many fandoms as I want now.

Despite the fact that I've written several things for Frontier now, and despite the fact that everyone has a relatively straightforward character, I still don't feel like I have a very good grasp of how to write the characters. It also doesn't help that this time I intentionally tried to do something not in canon, so I don't have much to base it off of. I know Koichi's little personal arc revolves around his brother, and he shows up pretty late into the plot, but I wish he had gotten to interact with the other characters a bit more, I think there was a lot of potential for fun dynamics. Just in general being a sixth ranger has gotta suck a little, you show up when everyone's good buddies and had a lot of their growth already happen before you were there. You didn't get to do all the dramatic friendship bonding

-

The most alienating thing wasn’t that anyone shunned him, it was how tightly-knit they were on their own.

It made sense. The five of them had been traveling as a group for…days, weeks, months? When he asked, none of them seemed quite sure of the answer. It had been long enough to grow close, though, that much was obvious. By the time he had arrived, they were already deeply familiar with one another. How could that not make him feel like a bit of an outsider?

Watching the nightly routine the first few times had been…interesting. Was ‘puzzling’ a better word, maybe ‘unsettling?’ That didn’t feel right either. It had been so jarringly mechanical. Seemingly out of nowhere, everyone had stopped in the middle of the path they’d been going down for the last several hours. No words, no gestures, nothing to indicate it was happening. Unwittingly, he’d continued walking for a dozen or so steps before someone decided to cue him in.

“Uh, Koichi, where are you going, dude?”

He turned slowly, looking at them oddly. They did the same back to him. He pointed off into the distance behind. “Are we…not still going…?”

It was approaching dusk, so it wasn’t a monumental shock, but, again, nobody had mentioned anything at all.

“Aren’t you tired, too?” Koji asked.

“W-well, I guess, I’m just a little confused. You all stopped out of nowhere, so I wasn’t sure what to think.”

“Tommy’s tired.” Zoe shrugged. “He starts walking like that when he’s all burnt out.”

“Yeah, and Takky over here gets that squinty look in his eye when it’s too dark to see far. Usually a good sign that it’s time to crash for the night,” said JP.

He stared at them in silence. None of that had been obvious to him at all. Was that normal for them?

Camp was set up with a similar level of efficiency. Koichi fumbled behind them, trying to figure out how to make himself useful. Much like the walking, there seemed to be some kind of silent system that he wasn’t privy to. How they automatically split into groups, how they went off in their own separate directions without so much as a word. Every time he spoke up to ask a question, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was performing some kind of social taboo. Were it not for his fear of coming off cold, he would have merely sat in the corner and not interrupted.

Dinner, at least, was a little more lively. Even if he didn’t talk much, he could bury himself in others’ chatter. They were a lively bunch, that was for sure.

“Heh! Y’know, at least this time, the plant wasn’t the thing trying to kill us!” Said Zoe, ruminating on their last misadventure with the beanstalk. “I mean, it’s still a bummer we couldn’t save it after all, but at least it wasn’t another Woodmon incident.”

A ripple of semi-amused laughter passed through the group…except for their most recent member. He tilted his head. “...Woodmon?”

“Oh, uh-” Takuya looked at him sheepishly. “It’s- it was this thing, a while back, you weren’t there-”

“Takuya and me weren’t there, either! But they told us all about it when we got back!” Added Tommy.

“Oh.”

“Well, hey, if we’re talking about killer trees, I could go all night about Cherrymon!” JP said with a grin.

The conversation picked up steam again without much effort. Koichi stayed quiet. While they reflected on old incidents, he continued to be terribly confused. Even for the times that sounded awful and unpleasant, they still laughed. Was it stupid for him to think about it so much?

He volunteered to watch the fire first. He’d made a habit of it. Falling asleep was something he had found difficult to do for a while. The urge to do so just didn’t come. Half the time, someone had to insist he get some sleep before he even tried to lie down. It was easier to make himself useful and keep an eye on things while everyone else slept.

Zoe had been insistent on joining him. Said something about it being bad for him to sit all by himself. The thought crossed his mind that she may have been suspicious of leaving him solely responsible for everyone’s safety. Of course they wouldn’t trust him with something like that, they’d only known him for a fraction of time that they’d known each other.

He prodded at the fire with a long stick, trying to catch a cluster of dry, dead leaves with the kindling they currently had. Zoe had busied herself with reinforcing the little barrier of rocks that surrounded it so it couldn’t escape.

She glanced up from her work. “You okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not tired yet.”

“Not what I meant.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “You just seem a little bummed out, anything I can do to help?”

The fact that she was automatically offering surprised him. Still, “No, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

Zoe nodded, going back to her work. Koichi wanted to just leave it at that, but he found himself curious. “What makes you ask?”

“You don’t talk much.” She replied. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, it just seems like you don’t know what to say a lot of the time.”

He didn’t have an answer. Nothing useful, at least. “I guess I just don’t have anything to add.”

“Well, you can talk about stuff you like, if you want!”

“Thanks, but…” a puff of cinders floated from the fire’s top. “I feel like I don’t belong here. I’m glad to be able to meet my brother, but I don’t think I fit in with the rest of you. All your stories, all the things you’ve already done. I have none of that. I can’t share that with you.”

To his surprise, Zoe didn’t look put off. She just smiled with patience. “You don’t need to. Nobody expects you to, we’ve only known each other for so long!”

“You’re not…bothered by that?”

“Nope!” The girl scooted closer, propping her arms against the dirt. “Seriously, do you have any idea how long it took me to get used to these dorks? We really weren’t friends at first, we were all just trying to survive. The only reason we get along so well now is because we’ve already worked out all the stupid little stuff.”

“...Really?”

“We argued over the dumbest things, Koichi.” Zoe nodded sagely. “It’s a good thing you weren’t there for that. It was embarrassing.”

Something about her tone of voice made him chuckle. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Seriously! We were so dumb about it!”

Maybe she had a point. He’d heard plenty about how much Takuya and Koji had bickered with each other before, and he thought they were stubborn enough as they were now. The others must have had some stunning patience.

“Besides, I’m learning more about you, too! I’ll get there, just like I got with the boys.”

“Hmm. What have you already figured out?”

“Well, you stay up ridiculously late, for one. I gotta stay up and make sure you don’t fall asleep! And if you do fall asleep, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t roll over onto any rocks.”

An oddly sweet sentiment. He could appreciate that. “Anything else?”

“You get all squirmy when Koji goes off somewhere and doesn’t bring you. It seems like warm weather doesn’t bother you much, I don’t know how wearing long sleeves in this heat doesn’t make you sweat, it drives me nuts! Uhh, and you tie your shoes really tight so the laces don’t drag like Takuya’s do. And this isn’t something you do, but whenever he’s out of earshot, JP keeps calling you ‘Koko.’”

“I’ll…have to ask him about that one.”

“I swear I’m not making it up. He likes his nicknames. He calls me ‘Zee’ a lot. Takuya’s ‘Takky,’ and I guess Tommy is already a nickname, so it was only a matter of time before you got one, too.”

“What does he call Koji?”

She paused in thought. “Y’know, I don’t know! I think those two just insult each other.”

He couldn’t say for sure, but Koichi had a feeling that if he hadn’t muffled his laughter, he would have woken up the whole camp.

[dlamp-dictator]

Thinking About Combat Schools

In an attempt to try and write at least one decently sized essay post that isn’t about Arknights for once (and god is that difficult) I’m going to talk about something else that is near and dear to my heart.

Combat School Anime/Manga.

Along side my thoughts of how Hypergryph is doing everything in their power to make Vigil suck as a unit I’ve been thinking a lot about the Combat School genre of anime and manga recently. It seems this odd sub-genre of the late 2000s and early-to-mid 2010s is making a mild resurgence with shows like The Iceblade Sorcerer Shall Rule the World, Reborn to Master the Blade, The Reincarnation of the Strongest Exorcist in Another World, Reign of the Seven Spellswords, and so on. The world is slowly but surely leaving the realm of isekai and going back the formula of classrooms about battle and facing enigmatic foes of various species and organizations.

And most of them suck.

Okay, I’m being a dick here, but they really don’t do anything I like and most of them feel like they have the same problems that Hundred. Few of them take the aspect of a school revolving around combat and martial prowess seriously since most of the students either don’t take the classes seriously or are at the schools for reasons aside from learning combat. Few of these shows give the protagonist a legitimately good reason for being at said school since most of them are unnaturally strong and dust through the classes with ease to the point of them being there is pointless. And very few of these series have protagonist that interest me since most of them boil down to the same Gary Stu archetype of being the best or having the most potential for greatness right out the gate with little trouble in terms of the combat portion of the combat school.

Like, folks, you can make this genre interesting.

But I digress. And rather than mindless complain about all I currently hate about the genre’s reemergence I believed it would be better to channel my venting into something worth a damn and just talk about some of the more interesting and fun points of the genre, maybe with a few recommendations thrown in as well.

But first, as always, a synopsis.

The Combat School genre of anime essentially focuses on a school setting that revolves around teaching students combat, martial arts, or efficiently utilizing their supernatural abilities in a semi-controlled environment for the sake of them graduating and using those abilities to better society. Most of the time the end goal of these schools is to work as a paramilitary academy to train students to either fight ambiguous monsters of some kind like in Katana Maidens or Hundred, and sometimes it’s to work under a government-sanctioned supernatural military force like in Absolute Duo or Chivalry of a Failed Knight. There’s also the third option of simply keeping all the super-powered teenagers under one concentrated location for the sake of keeping an eye on them, but that’s rarely done or discussed save for one series I can think of and mentioning it would be a huge spoiler of its premise so I’d rather not.

But anyway, onto why exactly I like this odd little sub-genre.

The Appeal

Originally I was going to break this down into two different types of appeals but I’m scrapping that going with just a few key points. This sub-genre has a lot of fun bits and aspect about it both from a mechanical writing perspective and emotional one, and for the sake of your time and my sanity I’ll be doing the appeals in a semi-short list form of each aspect I like about this series.

So... with that said.

Easy Action: Action junky I am, it’s pretty easy to show off action in a setting that allows and likely encourages both organized combat and unorganized combat due to the school’s very setting focusing on the eventuality of battles, and those battles will have the narrative weight of not only our characters having to be good fighters for the sake of not getting hurt, but being good students as well. High school can feel like a battlefield at times, and this genre can make that very literal.

Easy  Worldbuilding: This one’s a bit tricky to do smoothly, but a combat school setting being a school usually gives us, the audience, a good reason to quite literally be lectured to about the setting when it is an in-universe lecture that the main cast is also listening to. This can get boring if it isn’t done well or the teachers in question don’t have interesting ways of give that information, but usually it’s excusable by the nature of use needing to know this information as much as the character, no matter how boring the exposition might be.

Cast Diversity: This often depends on the world’s settings and other specifics, but it’s pretty easy to get a wide and varying cast of characters by the nature of it being a school, especially if the main character is a transfer student of some kind. Not to the mention the chance of getting an exchange student or some other outsider that isn’t the region’s usual demographic or ethnicity. Things like that are easy to justify in a school environment and gives a good reason to explore the world outside the setting without leaving it.

Easy Character Arcs: Being a school, the amount of personal stakes you can attach to things like tests, competitions, and even romance will be both natural and in character with a cast of teenagers. Plus the more intense settings could have more straightforward stakes like risk of injury or death depending on how gritty you want to make the series. You can also focus on more tertiary that aren’t explored as the main cast of students to keep things varied without it feeling out of nowhere. There were plenty of Assassination Classroom episodes that focused on the D-Cast without it feeling weird after all.

Power Levels/Powerscaling: As much as I want write essays on this topic I’ll keep things brief. Being a school that often revolves around learning how to either fight or use the world-specific powers to fight grants the writer a lot of interesting ways to limit and expanse the magic system/power levels of the world, letting them increase the escalation of the level of threats and powers in a smooth fashion. Teachers tend to be the aspirations in terms of power with professionals and graduates of the school being a step or two about that. It varies, but that’s the gist of things to make it simple.

There’s a few more, but these are the immediate advantages of the setting I can think of. Overall, the Combat School setting is very inclusive to a number of different ideas.

And... I’ve honestly seen only a few that do this well, and the handful that do usual have a massive asterisks in front of them.

Quick Notes on Other Combat Schools

Just going to make a quick list here since I don’t really have anything worth endorsing with confidence. Like I said, most other combat school series tend to have some kind of asterisk to it that makes it hard for me to recommend. With that said...

Absolute Duo has a pretty decent opening with a more down-to-earth setting compared to other combat schools that really understands the school is about combat, but it falls into a lot of fanservice and harem tropes that aren’t needed since Tor and Julie’s narrative journeys and general school activities are already interesting enough to hold the plot together without a needless panty shot.

Chivalry of the Failed Knight also takes the combat school portion of it’s setting seriously, but post anime a lot of the more... specific issues surrounding the big tournament and spoilers of the events during it tend to break my suspension of disbelief in terms of the antagonistic force in the setting that isn’t Ikki’s family actively screwing him over because of political reasons.

Hundred... I’ve talked about already, but to keep it short feels like an action series that takes place at a school rather than being a combat school series.

Armed Girl’s Machiavellism is actually a good series all things considered, with a main character that’s fun to watch, a female cast that’s interesting without them all being completely tied to the male lead, and some decent action shots in it, but I consider it more a school with a lot of martial arts and combat in it than a proper combat school. The setting is mostly a school where the student body knows martial arts and swordplay out of convenience rather than it being a part of the school’s curriculum, so technically I don’t think it should count.

Overall it just feels like a lot the more recent combat school series don’t see the fun potential in the genre and instead just... have school with some combat in it. And that’s just not fun, or at least not interesting. If I had to be honest I’d say the only decent Combat School series out right now is Reign of the Seven Spellblades with it actually taking the whole wizard thing seriously and letting the characters learn and understand the wonder and dangers of magic as well as the kind of place a school that encourages magical growth and experimentation is like. And even then I consider it more a magic school series than a combat school.

I don’t know. All this talk about the genre’s potential now has me in the mood to try and write my own. Tempting, but... I’ve got enough on my plate already.

Anyway, that’s all I wanted to talk about. A bit meandering, but just wanted to get my thoughts out somewhere. Maybe I’ll talk about something a little more concrete in the future. Anyways, be seeing you all later.

[infiniteglitterfall]

asdfkjaflkjasflkjasfkjafkjafljkasflkjasflkjasflkjgjkgjllkjgffff

Let's take a look at the original source.

If it seems solid, we can just fact-check it by seeing if any other reliable news outlets are also reporting this.

I've transcribed all of that and my notes in the alt tag for the screenshot if it's hard to read.

I'll also summarize the problems here:

this article is from what Wikipedia calls "a semi-official news agency" owned by the government of Iran.

state-owned media is propaganda, period. When you see that you're reading state-owned media, it's a good practice to stop and look for a story from an independent source.

We're continuing just for practice.

The headline is neutral-sounding which is good; the date is current, which is good.

The article's source for this info is, "According to Qatar's Al-Jazeera." This is another state-owned media outlet. That's bad.

Plus, they don't link to whatever article, tweet, video, etc. they're citing from Al-Jazeera. So you can't get more info, see if there is more info, see what they said....

And you don't need to know this in order to fact-check, but: one thing I've learned from fact-checking everything I see from any "side" in the past 11 months is that Al-Jazeera often tweets false statements that it never follows up on. I don't know if it just shoots out a tweet as soon as it hears a rumor, to get the scoop and follow up if it happens to be true, or what. But it really sucks if you want to know what's going on.

I forgot to put a note about "the target of the strike" there: this is mind-reading. They need to give any kind of source from someone who was there and/or has a reason to know what the target was. For instance, a military analyst looking at satellite or drone footage would work.

Most of the article is devoted to saying that Israel is currently on trial for genocide and saying that human rights groups have "blamed Israel's far-right cabinet and military for ignoring the order." This should link to or quote at least one human rights group doing that.

Seriously, NONE of the rest of the article says anything about the strike?! This isn't an article; it's not even a source. At a bare minimum, a source tells you what happened and how they know.

There's one more problem with this piece. I'm giving it separately, as an example of how people can fact-check things:

The article cites "more than 144,000 Palestinians dead, maimed, or missing." Numbers are great for fact-checking. Let's walk through it, using this as an example.

In this case, I threw "number of people missing in gaza" into google.

The numbers in search result previews were all over the place and I didn't feel like trying to figure out when all of them were from, so I hit the "news" tab. Time Magazine had a recent-ish piece and is reasonably reliable. A little over two months ago, it quoted a new report by Save the Children International as saying 17,000 children were missing, and 4,000 were missing presumed dead. I didn't see anyone talking about adults. A search for "'missing adults' 'gaza'" turned up nothing in either web or news results. A dead end there is also fine in terms of fact-checking, IMHO. But in this case, I remembered seeing a bunch of articles about how the Gaza Ministry of Health calculates the numbers killed. Some of them described how Gazans can fill out an online form to report those who are missing presumed dead, known to be dead under the rubble, etc. This article has a VERY biased headline, but the research is solid: it explains exactly what the Ministry of Health has said and done at different points, and links to different analyses of its data. Basically, its numbers for fatalities include people missing and presumed dead. So we're still at around 17,000 missing, 41,000 dead: 58,000 total.

That leaves about 86,000 Palestinians that Iran is saying Qatar is saying have been maimed. I threw 'number of palestinians "maimed"' into Google. Putting maimed in quotes forced Google to give me results that included that word. Still couldn't find anything that gave a number of people who were maimed. Then I tried "gaza casualties," because people sometimes include injuries in casualties.

That got me to Wikipedia's page on "casualties of the israel-hamas war," which did have an infographic from OCHR that gave numbers of people injured.

But it was a couple months old and didn't specify anything about injuries. The infographic was headed with "OCHA Gaza Reported Incident Snapshot" and the date." So I took one more swing at it, just in case this info really is out there, and searched for "ocha gaza reported incident snapshot." I did find a current one. It still only gave the total injured, which it said was 94,224. Higher than 86,000, but not a lot higher.

86,000 divided by 94,224 is 91%.

So the only way to get to 144,000 is if 91% of everyone injured in Gaza over the past 11 months was maimed. As in, had a body part amputated or lost the use of it. And while there are horrific stories about that happening, none of them imply that it was the majority of injuries. Much less that it includes almost everyone who's been injured. So I'm calling big-time shenanigans on the total of "dead, maimed, or missing" in this article. (On a personal note, I also think it's disrespectful and risky to the people of Gaza to play these games with data. Is the number of dead not enough? Are people not going to get frustrated and distrustful when they find out that the number of dead, maimed, and missing is far lower? Aren't the real experiences and voices of Gazans worth platforming?)

Now let's see if we can find a better source confirming this thing.

I'm actually going to START with the IDF. Because it does share a lot of detail about its actions, and if it says it did this, then I'm ready to just call it done.

Ok: this is the only tweet from the IDF today, or since the 1st:

Al-Jazeera did tweet about it, and doesn't mention anything else about it, even on its liveblog, which the tweet links to while saying "follow our LIVE coverage."

(It does have in-person reporting there on a strike in Gaza City that killed nine, which is just similar enough to confuse me for a minute. But it wasn't 8, or a bread line, or Jabalia.

It seems to be the same thing that the IDF is tweeting about, above? Al Jazeera says an IDF strike in this location killed at least 9, including 2 children. But it's entirely possible that more people died in this strike than Al Jazeera is initially reporting.)

The Jerusalem Post has a liveblog too, which also doesn't mention anything at all around Jabalia Refugee Camp.

A lot of accounts on Twitter have just repeated what Al Jazeera said, often without any credit. But the only actual news article about it is the one above, and an even shorter one, also citing Al Jazeera, from "TASS," which is...?

Oh yeah, this checks out.

It's a Russian state-owned news agency, and one of the largest news agencies worldwide.

Just yesterday an Israeli strike killed 8 Palestinians who were waiting outside the UNRWA agency for bread. These were people who were already displaced—who lost their homes, who were grieving the death of loved ones, who have been starving for months on end since Israel completely cut aid in February—and their last moments were waiting in line for bread before an Israeli strike killed them then and there

[aanakin]

any steddie recs ? 👀 I’m just starting to get into the ship

oh yes, been reading quite a lot of steddie recently, so here’s a list of some of my favorites. I arranged them by length, starting from the shortest. All of them are completed works.

tell me that it's not my fault (tell me that i'm all you want) by penguinwritesbooks | 3.1k | Steve leaves Eddie a message.           

what a match, i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet by DeadAndDying | 4.6k | Steve feels a little feral about Eddie like all the time.

and here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last by obsceme | 6k | 5 times Steve steals Eddie's clothes, and one time Eddie returns the favor.

third nat one by acetheticallyy (judesstfrancis) | 7k | Steve agreed to sit in on the kids’ silly little fantasy game for one reason and one reason only. He didn’t think those stupid dice would be so hard to manipulate.

you could let it all go (it's called freefall) by anniebibananie | 7k |  Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson, so he has no idea how to wrap his head around Steve Harrington’s sudden appearance in his life as an unmovable fixture.  No fucking clue.

the unmapped places by groaninlynch | 7.5k | Eddie confesses. Steve, amazed, confesses back.

I can't save us, my Atlantis by kissmejusttokissme | 8.7k | Steve will relive the night of the battle as many times as it takes to make things right.

Whole Lotta Love by stereobone | 9k | Steve scoffs. "I think if I was dating someone, Robin, I would be the first to know about it." "Would you, though?" Robin says.

Keep It for Me by  stereobone | 9.7k | It's 1993, and Steve is attending Lucas and Max's wedding. It's 1993, and no one has seen Eddie Munson in seven years.

Monster Killer, Holy Diver by shibbi | 10k | Steve gives Eddie a one-way ticket to New York as a graduation present and spends the next few years being sad about it.

stay through the night by zach_stone | 10k | after defeating Vecna, Eddie's having trouble coping. Luckily, Steve's around to help.

Of Kings and Cult-Leaders by ladyofthenorthernlights | 11k | Dustin convinces Steve to host Eddie's latest D&D campaign.

You Oughta Know by thisapplepielife | 12K | Days stretch out, long and slow. Steve tries to ignore the only thing he’s sure of: Eddie ran. He ran from him, ran from all of them. Or: Steve's having a rough couple of years, thanks for asking.

pulling your strings byThorinoakentwig | 14k | Steve lives the same day over and over again trying to save his friends

Rock of Ages by BoudicaMuse | 16k | "Eddie's having a love affair with my stereo." "Don't make it sound so tawdry, Harrington. We're well on our way to a committed relationship."

STRIKE TEN. by oaseas | 16k | Steve’s striking out. It’s the summer after his graduation, he’s working 9-5 at Scoops Ahoy, and hey, did you hear? He’s striking out. Enter Robin, her ‘you rule/you suck’ board, and a promise to romance the next girl through the door. Except, that’s no girl. That’s Eddie Munson.

Steve Harrington's Guide to Touch by how_about_no | 18k | Eddie won't stop touching anyone and everyone, except for Steve. He has a plan to change that.

the summer of '85 series by ToEdenandBackAgain | 20k | it's the hottest day of the summer so far, and Eddie just wants his due of free samples. Annoying the shit out of Steve Harrington is just a cherry on top. 

Eddie Munson's Vampire Mixtape by Springandastorm | 21k | Vampire!Eddie AU, Post Season 4 fix it.   

this is your home. these are your people. by oaseas | 21k | Ma Henderson & Wayne Munson get cosy, Dustin makes an off-hand remark, and Steve spirals. It works out in the end.

cool just doing nothing with you by anniebibananie | 24k | It's never easy, recovering from the trauma of a battle with the supernatural, but this time Steve has Eddie. And weed. Hopefully one of those two can help him sleep at least.

Sanctuary by SpicedSage | 47k | After Steve Harrington goes missing, Eddie Munson gets exposed to the secret dangers of Hawkins, Indiana in 1985 instead of 1986.

sub-culture by palmviolet | 60k | steve is pretty convinced eddie now hates him. turns out eddie has the opposite problem.

Lovesick in Loch Nora by red0aktree | 62k | Steve gets Eddie a job as an anonymous columnist at a local newspaper.

the lathe by palmviolet | 82k | Time loop AU. steve relives the day they try to kill vecna over and over, and eddie just can't seem to stop dying. steve finds this totally unacceptable.

[lintskukka]

the saga continues cause i press post too often as if im texting to myself and not word vomiting on my public blog

[dontfeeltoohot]

Your famous Eddie fic was so great! Can I ask for a a follow up one with him having allergies during an interview?

This got...longer than intended. His allergies are BAD in the fall. Oops. Was I inspired by that one JQ interview where he was basically crying? Absolutely. Enjoy!

XX

The need for allergy meds hadn't crossed his mind when he was packing for Corroded Coffin's three day trip to NYC to get some photos taken and do a few interviews. He's regretting it now, as he walks into Buzzfeed's large building, listening to his bandmates, Zack in tow.

His nose is already itching and stuffy, and his eyes are starting to feel irritated. Half of him wants to ask his friend and bodyguard to run down to the closest place and pick him up some Claritin, but decides it's not worth the hassle.

It's quick work of getting the guys signed in and sat in four chairs, two in front of the other as they wait, cameras pointing at them, lights shining down. Sniffling, Eddie runs his knuckles against his nose, as everyone checks the sound equipment over.

"Dude, you sure you're good?" Jeff asks, eyeing Eddie with a hint of worry.

"Yeah, just allergies," he shrugs off.

The guitarist is semi-good at remembering meds, but it doesn't mean they always work. It's become almost a running joke with the fans of keeping count of Eddie's sneezes.

Gareth snorts, looking at Tim with a smirk.

"Ten dollars he can't get through the interview without sneezing at least six times."

"I'll take it, Eddie's pretty good at controlling himself when he needs to. Remember that one photoshoot with all the flowers?"

"I'll get in on the bet," Jeff laughs, making Eddie narrow his eyes at them, flipping them the bird.

Four minutes later, a girl no older than the lead guitarists own twenty eight years of age is walking out and sitting with them. They all shake her hand and say hello, there's a pause, and then they start shooting.

They talk about their most recent shows- a small six city tour that had them seeing the most fans and turnouts yet. As they joke and tell little anecdotes, Eddie sniffles and tries to focus on the woman; Illiana, and her questions.

"So Eddie, you've been teasing about a new upcoming album for Corroded Coffin, but do you have anything in the works as a solo artist?"

"Nah, I mean, I've recorded a few things at home that aren't as hardcore and stuff, but Corroded Coffin is where I'm meant to be," he gives Illiana a smile. Jeff snorts, shaking his head.

"The day he does a solo album is the day this band breaks up."

"Loyalty is good," she nods, then looks back to Eddie. "But just know you have a following of fans who'd love to hear something a little more mellow," she laughs, and Eddie chuckles.

"Maybe one day."

"Speaking of having a following, lets talk about you and your boyfriend Steve. You guys seem to be taking over TikTok with your little dance videos and Twitch with all of your streams. Everyone seems to notice just how much happier you are the past couple of years."

Eddie nods, rolling his eyes fondly. It's true that Steve's gained some spotlight now, especially since he's started posting videos of he and Eddie doing silly dances and pranks to each other. It's a stark contrast from him and Jeremy, who wanted nothing to do with the fame, going as far as to make Eddie stay in for days at a time.

He goes to reply, rubbing at his nose again, a tickle winding its way through his sinuses.

"Yeah, yeah, Steve is great, he and Robin; his best friend, kind of roped me into learning one dance, and it ended up becoming a thing, since I can't dance to save my life," Eddie nods, sniffling wetly. He rubs the heel of his hand against his eye quickly.

"From what I've seen, you don't seem to bad!"

"You don't have to be nice, trust us, he sucks," Tim chimes in, making everyone laugh.

"Yeah, as kind as that it, it's absoluhhte b.s," he laughs kindly, scrunching his nose up.

The tickle doesn't recede, and as Gareth talks about his own girlfriend, Eddie turns to his right; where no one else is, and raises the neck of his black and white striped tee over his face, eyes fluttering shut.

"hih-GKtSCHuhew! ah'IKSCHhhEW! S-Sohh-IGKschEW! Sorry," Eddie sniffles and wipes his face before turning to face the woman again, rubbing his eye.

The other bandmates snicker, and Gareth mumbles 'that's three', earning a kick to his foot.

"Bless you! Now I have a few questions sent in from fans," she grabs a few cards from her lap.

It's not their favorite thing, since some fans can be a lot and vaguely intrusive, but since they've been hand picked, the guys know they can't be that awful. Eddie's already struggling against another all consuming tickle. He can feel it throughout his sinuses and nose, even the tip feels irritated. His nostrils twitch and he presses his fist tightly against them, but it doesn't help. He leans away again, brings his shirt back up.

"hh! ah'IKtSHuhEW! ihHTSHhuh!"

The long haired man turns back to apologize but turns quickly again, this time unable to pull his collar up, instead blocking his face with bent elbow.

"hih-IhKGshh'uhEW! iiKSHuhEW! Christ, sorry, my allergies have been shit the past few days," Eddie sniffles, wiping his eyes that have started becoming increasingly more teary and red.

Illiana laughs and brushes it off, continuing on.

"'CoffinCorrupter1784' asks- who in the band is the most likely to ghost everyone else?"

The four look at each other before Tim, Gareth and Eddie all turn to Jeff, who looks scandalized before laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, guess they're right."

Eddie sniffles and rubs the heel of his hand into his right eye, a few allergic tears falling and wetting his cheek as he pokes his tongue out and scrunches his nose.

"'annietheweird' asks: Do you guys pull pranks on each other during practices too? Or just during tours?"

"Oh, we definitely pull pranks whenever we get the chance," Gareth snorts. "We're all pretty g-"

"ihNGXT-tKSCHhh! h'TSHh'uhEW! hah'IHTshhEW! "

"-ood- dude shut up- about being sneaky when it comes to them," the drummer finishes, only faux-annoyed at the other man.

"Usually it's me and Jeff against Gareth and Eddie," Tim explains, nodding along. "We managed to switch their shampoo out for red hair dye a few months ago, but unfortunately it didn't really take well."

"Really? And you guys weren't mad?"

"Nah, it was jus-snf! just fuhn'd a'd ga'bes," Eddie's eyelashes are wet, and he swipes at his face.

"Are you up for a couple more questions?" It's directed at the eldest of the four, who nods, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, sorry," he gives a tight lipped half smile.

"Jeez dude, get yourself together," Jeff teases lightheartedly.

"The fans are going to have a field da-"

"hhH'KiHtSHuhEW!"

"Dude..."

"hAH'TSHHuhew!"

"Jesus Munson!"

"ahHGihKTSCH! Ugh, snfSNF! Fugck, okay, mbight ndeed a breagk," Eddie keeps the neck of his short covering half of his face. This last one had been messier than intended, and damn he needs a tissue.

Zack is suddenly there, holding out a tissue box. He snatches a few up and keeps himself turned to blow his nose, everyone around him wincing at how thick it sounds. After another blow, Eddie grabs a new tissue and wipes at his face.

"Welp, at least we get our ten dollars," Gareth smirks at Jeff.

[nickibxby]

Jealousy Pt 2

Find part 1 here

Dabi x pro hero

NFSW, some angst— Not really most of that is in part 1—  (Female reader) AU where reader is a pro hero and Dabi’s Ex-Girlfriend who’s been working with Hawks a lot recently

Unedited— sorry again if it’s bad Ik I could skip the apology by just editing but I’m lazy anyways I might make this into a thing idk maybe, maybe not ( probably not) also its only half smut cause I got lazy and was writing this at like 5am— and also also sorry cause it kinda corny 

-------------------------------

Fuck you Touya” you spat at him breaking out of his caress

“That’s exactly it”

“What?” You looked at him confused and partially annoyed

“I came here to fuck you” he replied with smirk implicating in his tone that what he was saying was obvious, speaking almost as if he was talking down to you speaking like you were stupid, you rolled your eyes scoffing 

“Well then you might as well leave Dabi” you enunciated his ‘name’ as if to distance yourself by loosing familiarity 

“No more Touya?” He asked teasingly not caring for an actual answer

“Didn’t you insist minutes ago that I call you that?” You questioned back

“Yeah but I kinda like when you call me Touya, it sounds sexy and almost normal… like we’re a normal couple” he states pausing as if trying to make a point “ and like a Normal couple we have our ups and downs, ins and outs, and I can’t help but get a lil jealous when I see someone flirting with what belongs to me”

“Luckily for you I don’t belong to you, Dabi” you rolled your eyes again

“Then who do you belong to babe” he spoke lips; ones that you knew too well    finding their way back to your neck, and hands…on your hips? Then up your shirt gliding over your stomach towards your breast, the skin on skin contact leaving you with sensations that you had felt many times before— skin that despite his scars was soft?... Not quite but regardless it felt good and he was warm, warm enough to melt into and you almost did but the adding of a new sensation distracted you. The  feeling of rough? No not quite bruised? Pained? Injured? Calloused? Yeah let’s go with that calloused hands fondling your breast

“Touya” you protested only to be silenced by a hitching breath as he began sucking on your neck, you knew he’d be leaving a deep and dark hickey  bruising your skin in a colour similar to the scars on his; though you didn’t particularly care —you were used to this, it wasn’t the first time he’d shown up out of nowhere just go mark you up and  ‘remind you of who you belonged to’ as he’d put it— all this simply out of jealousy of course, then disappearing again without taking your own feelings into account and more often than not he seemed to use them against you ‘Probably his own fucked up way of showing affection’ you thought to yourself —he probably thought he was saving your feelings by staying out of your life for as long as possible 

“I knew you missed me baby, I missed you too” he stopped suckling whispering in your ear and holding you for a moment 

“after all you are mine” he paused “has that overgrown chicken touched you like this?” you felt his body heating up as if warning you to watch how you answered his question

“He’s just a friend-” you tried spitting out in protest but he cut you off

“No your body remembers me too well” he chuckles “you react perfectly to my every touch, at least you have so far… but I wonder” he trailed off  reaching his hand down towards your dampening cunt

“Oh? Looks like I was right” he practically purred as his fingers reached their destination “looks like your body, this body remembers who it belongs to— me… you remember me perfectly, and your dripping pussy basically proves that you’re still mine” he pressed a kiss to your jaw sucking again this time as one hand groped your boob and the other rubbed away at your clit before slipping inside your hole. It felt great, you felt great— more than that.. only he could make you feel like this, only he could make you feel so much.And all this with his cock still semi hard in his pants and buzzing...buzzing? Pulsating? No definitely buzzing what you were feeling was definitely him, but also … a cell phone?? Yeah a cell phone. He let it ring out; only for it to ring again then twice more after letting it ring out a total of 3 times before a singular buzz cuts the pattern

‘A text’ you think to yourself thoughts interrupted by a groan and the momentarily stopping of all stimulation then continuation of his fingers sloshing in and out of your sopping cunt as he pulls out his phone reading the message then bringing his fingers to a halt

“Sorry babe” he speaks up removing his fingers from your now lonely pussy that was aching to be filled back up by him “we’ll have to finish this another time— It’s work and, the boss is ever so demanding” he states shoving his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean

“I’ll be back… no clue when” he sighed and rolled his eyes “but when I do come back,  I’ll fuck that tight lil pussy till she’s stretched in the shape of my cock”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

………………………………………………….......................

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

………………………........................................................

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

..................................................................................

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

If you’re comfortable with it, please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text—”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 148

This chapter got... long. In a good way. I mean, who objects to a chapter that is practically double-length?  Right.

Speed-run shout outs this week go to: @nagisa-666, @crimson-faith27, @colornotes23, @theronisengard, @gam3rgur1.

Beta-reading thanks go to @baelpenrose, along with general thanks to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for being amazing people.

A few things I want to note: the technology behind these suits is NOT my creation. They are very strongly based on the suits used by Rifters in Peter Watts’s Rifters triology. I wish I could take credit for them, but honesty is the best policy.

I hope all my readers are okay wherever you are.  There’s been a lot of severe weather in the last couple of weeks, and I just want you all to be safe.

Once we had Charly, Antoine, and Maverick on board to help with our project, Grey and I agreed that a meeting of the Council would be necessary to cover what we were hoping to achieve - especially once we discovered that the original plan behind the bivouac suits was only waiting for our votes for full approval.  For once, I was looking forward to a full, in-person meeting so that I could glare down every one of my peers, face-to-face.

Glaring over video just lost a certain…. je ne sais quoi.  Even Tyche and Arthur agreed.

As I entered the rarely-used Council chambers, the sheer lack of people caught me off guard.  Grey and Pranav had not arrived yet, but the only others present were Xiomara, Eino, and Huynh.  Eino seemed to notice as I stopped short, and smiled gently. “I know it has been quite some time, but it is protocol that when the Council is voting to override our hosts, or one or more Councillors actually oppose an initiative that impacts the entire ship, only the sitting members and Miys are included in the meetings. Not even administrators are allowed.”

I blinked slowly. “When did that start? Even Arantxa’s trial had administrators in attendance.”

“Witnesses,” Huynh shrugged. “This isn’t a trial, it’s a debate, and our votes cannot be influenced by outside parties.”

“And, thanks to you and Grey, we’re sequestered until we reach a unanimous agreement,” Xiomara added, glaring.

“I disagree, Xiomara,” Grey responded as they breezed into the room. “The entire reason we have a Council is to ensure that the needs of the many are being considered.  Sophia already has a back up plan in the event that our hopes do not pan out, one that is quite more agreeable than what you initially took into account I dare say.”

Eino, ever the peacemaker, held up one pale hand. “Please. Let us save our arguments for the actual debate. Instigating hard feelings will only extend these proceedings, and I believe several of us have lives outside of work we would like to return to.”

“What are the two of you bickering about now?” Pranav sighed as he took his seat.  I hadn’t seen him come in after Grey, but apparently he had been in the room long enough to secure a plate of biscuits and what smelled like tea.  The look I gave him only garnered a wink.

“Before they start in again,” Eino responded as loudly as he ever got - which was a firm tone but not terribly loud in all honesty, “The entire Council is present, so we will be starting shortly. I would like to confirm that our esteemed host is present as well?”

“Indeed,” the reply came from the ceiling. “And per human custom, I have only myself to consult with. Councilor Emeritus Rodriguez is not present.”

“Thank you. With that, we may call the session to order.” Eino stood, acting as parliamentarian for the duration. “As you are all aware, Miys recently brought to our attention that humans are, in fact, considered a Class III Biohazard within the greater Galactic community. To protect the Eko-mari fleet that will be escorting us, we are asked to comply with safety protocols which ask that we wear the bivouac suits.”

I stifled a giggle when, rather than showing a projection to the group, he pulled out one of the ridiculously tiny suits.  The only one who apparently heard me was Xiomara, who sat in her customary seat to my left and kicked my shin gently.  For all that we were at loggerheads on this topic, it was apparent that we were both ready to lay it to rest and celebrate-slash-commiserate over a meal.

As he handed the sample-suit off to his left, Eino flicked up a schematic. “For the edification of the group, the bivouac suits are structured from a reflex-copolymer sheath which is selectively permeable, hydrophobic, and resistant to extreme temperatures. Oxygen and nitrogen are able to pass through the suit from the outside, while carbon dioxide is able to pass from the inside. They seal in the back with a semi-intelligent macromolecule, with a second macromolecule across the mouth that allows us to attach nutrient packs so we can eat while in the suit.”

This was so much worse than I expected, and I could feel my heart beginning to race and my gag reflex kicking in. I wasn’t even claustrophobic, but just the idea of putting one of those suits on made me feel like I was suffocating.  Glancing around the table, I could visibly see at least Huynh’s opinion changing from apathetic to… sweaty and fidgety.

Eino continued, dismissing the schematic. “The vote today is whether this is the correct solution for the situation, or if other options should be considered.  Xiomara Kalloe, as you are defending the majority opinion, you have the floor first.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged as she took the floor. “Council, my acceptance of the bivouac suits is quite simple - this is standard Galactic safety protocol when interacting with a sentient species that could be considered harmful to your own or others simply by virtue of existing in the same atmosphere. As our species is the one considered to be the biohazard,  custom expects that we would be the species in containment.  Otherwise, there is a possibility of danger to not only the Ekomari, but also any other species that stepped on their ship until it is properly decontaminated. While decontam is a simple process for the Ark - as Hujylsogox ships are designed with such measures in mind and largely handle the process themselves, at all times - records indicate that decontamination of an Ekomari ship would require near-complete disassembly, along with replacement of any porous surfaces.”

Even I had to whistle softly at that. Okay, then. We are that gross, got it. Not surprised, given the number of plagues humanity had experienced, combined with some of the people I had dated in the past.

“I believe the impacts of your statement are quite apparent, Councilor Kalloe. Thank you,” Eino stated. “Dissenting opinion is being provided by Councilor Sophia Reid. Questions will be addressed after dissenting opinion has been provided and a fifteen minute recess has been taken to allow consideration. Sophia? Your floor.”

“Thank you, Eino.” I smiled gently before composing myself. “While mine is being considered the ‘dissenting’ opinion, due to the exact reasons that Xiomara herself provided, I entirely agree with the need to be careful and considerate of other species, especially regarding the potential to repeat the smallpox-blanket mistakes of our past.” Without fail, the entire group winced.  “Exactly. We all agree that we aren’t doing that again - not should not, are not.  All that I am asking the Council to take into account is the potential to traumatize members of our own group by only considering the bivouac suits as a possibility.  Yes, the bivouac suits have proven themselves out by the entire galactic community, they are completely safe from a physiological perspective, et cetera.”  

This is where I had to take a deep breath, since this was literally my entire argument, and I had already admitted as much. “I am not arguing the use of them entirely, I am arguing the use of the suits, strictly.  Selfishly, I find myself experiencing a panic response at the idea of wearing them, and that is only by being more familiar with them - I’m sorry, Eino, but before you gave more details, my personal opinion was ‘I will sweat, but I can suck it up’. Now it’s ‘oh hell no and I’m not even claustrophobic, eff this’.”

“Understood,” he conceded gently.

With a nod, I forged on, encouraged. “However, that is just for myself. There are members of the Ark who cannot bear the feel of clothes, who fear restrictions, or the dark… Valuable members of our crew who will experience severe psychological trauma if forced into one of those suits.  And that, I cannot let go unspoken of, or unnoticed, without being remiss in my role as Councilor.” I steeled myself from glancing at Xiomara; she was over Health and Safety, and any form of addressing her directly would be considered a direct attack on her competence. “I have alternatives, to be used in conjunction with the bivouac suits, so that we can all keep those escorting us as safe as possible while also protecting our own people.”

I took my seat, and as soon as my hands dropped to my lap, Xiomara grabbed one and squeezed my fingers. The debate was over, the rest of the Council just had to figure that out.

“Thank you, Sophia,” Eino nodded seriously. “We shall take our break, and then convene for questions. Xiomara and Sophia, we ask that you remain at that side of the room. Councilors, you are asked to stay on the opposite side of the room. You are allowed to speak among yourselves, but any questions for Sophia or Xiomara are to be held until we as a group can consider them at the same time.”

Xiomara leaned over. “Derek,” she whispered sadly.

“Or Nixe,” I admitted. “Can you imagine forcing her into one of those?”

“Not without reinforcements and enough sedative to drop a horse,” she admitted, squeezing my fingers one more time before releasing them.

The break ended quickly, and Pranav was kind enough to quickly-but-silently set snacks and drinks, along with an enormous pitcher of water, in front of me and Xiomara before we picked up with the questions they were allowed.

Without hesitation, Huynh’s hand shot in the air to ask the first question.  While I never quite got around to actually liking him, I could very much appreciate his tendency to get straight to the heart of what he wanted to know, with very little patience for anything he deemed less important. “Clearly, you both agree on the need to quarantine ourselves, there is no argument there. Sophia, you mentioned alternatives to the bivouac suits. What are those?”

Grey gave me a pointed look with a slight squint. They were smug in the knowledge that we had already turned one vote, and I resisted the urge to grin in response. “Absolutely. As I mentioned, there is a significant portion of the population on the Ark that would be psychologically triggered by the bivouac suits. I have already spoken with members of the medical and engineering teams, and there are several options that we can adapt for our use, all of which are already in use within the Galactic community.”

With a flick, I brought up one example on the table emitter. “First, we have portable bioelectric fields, similar to what was used in medical when we first came on the Ark. Our teams have seven-nines of certainty that they can have these ready before rendezvous.” Flick, another example. “For more drastic situations, or simply so that we are not required to wear the suits at all times, even when we are back on the Ark, quarantine procedures in specified areas - similar to an airlock - so that anyone who does not or cannot wear a suit or personal field can remain safely in quarantine to keep the fleet away from our general biological ick.”

Nods circled the table. Xiomara went from drumming her fingers to pressing them down hard enough to turn her nail beds white - she was literally gripping for dear life to keep from laughing. I coughed to hide my smile, and forged on to the third option. “For the next example, I want to be clear: this is an entirely serious suggestion, regardless of how comical it looks.  Even without knowing the composition of the bivouac suits, we did practical tests with the sample that Noah was kind enough to leave with my office. Again, I am entirely serious, this is not a joke, no matter how much it looks like one.”

Despite my warning, I heard a round of snorts and no few giggles as I put the next example up on the emitter. I ignored them, completely understanding how comical it looked, allowing them to compose themselves. Gesturing at the nearly-spherical generic-human shape that was being projected, I soldiered on. “This is one of the bivouac suits, with added atmosphere to avoid claustrophobia.” With both hands, I pivoted the image to point at the back, just where the neck met the spine. “An atmospheric generator has been added here, to re-inflate the suit in the event that the person wearing it needs to eat or otherwise breach the suit.  Obviously, this would be done in one of the aforementioned quarantine areas, not on the actual Ekomari vessel.”

Huynh’s grin was nothing short of feral.  “These are all quite solid suggestions. Thank you.”

“Wait,” Pranav sputtered. “You’re quite serious about the… balloon man?”

Grey slid a pocket-sized atmospheric generator over. “Practical demonstration, if you want to try it on.”

Shaking his head with a smile, he slid it over to Huynh. “I am certain his department can do more with it than mine, but it should prove to be… quite an introduction to our stellar neighbors.”

“Any further questions?” I asked, feeling significantly more confident.

“I have one for Xiomara, and possibly Grey, actually,” Eino asked, clearing his throat. “Despite the fact that this will be readily apparent, I feel like I should preface this would not have been something I previously considered, but now I must know.” Oh, shit. My glance down at Xio revealed a very similar sentiment. “It has been mentioned that humans are considered a Class III Biohazard? We have put a lot of effort into defending the Ark from the potential of pirates, looting, and possible enslavement. If we are a Galactic biohazard, what value would there be in any species abducting us only to potentially die or experience at least a plague if we are encountered? Would that not… deter? Species from attacking us?”

Xiomara pinched the bridge of her nose. “I see where this is going. Please convey this to the person who I am reasonably sure you are asking this for:  Yes, being a Class III biohazard also makes humanity a Class III bioweapon. And while that would initially make others hesitant to abduct us, eventually there are groups that will figure out quarantine protocols, just like we have, and will realize that they can just… smuggle a human on a ship, wait for everyone on board to die or get to ill to function, and then sweep in to just… I don’t know, blow the locks. Who thinks of a weapon as a person? It’s not like they’ll worry about what happens to the human who gets swept into space.”

“And all of ‘the humans’ are on this ship, eventually on that colony,” I added, with all the gravity I could include. “Meaning we all know that ‘bioweapon’. There are seven ‘bioweapons’ in this room, alone.”

The room fell into silence, until Eino was brave enough to clear his throat. “So. If the debate is over, let us vote.  We will await suggestions for stepping up drills and defense training.”

The motion carried quickly in favor of using the proposed combination of containment measures, with unanimous agreement. 

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