#they're men so they would be drones

[null-doesnothing]

they are bees now lol peep their tiny hats

[dekuneho]

husband of the year ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — in your defense, who would've thought he would barge in while you're at work? clearly not you.

The TV was broadcasting and heatedly narrating Dynamight's current Villain-of-the-Week takedown when your co-worker, Yaeko whom you remember by her pin-straight waist-length hair and delight in a bunch of hearsay, taps on your shoulder for attention.

"Mm?" you murmur distractedly, incapable of tearing your eyes away from how the camera has easily captured the swift fluttering mid-air, even if just barely. No ordinary person could keep up with the force that is Bakugou Katsuki.

"Ayane-chan clocked out early."

"Did she?"

Yaeko settles on the plastic chair on your right, watching the #1 Pro Hero absolutely pulverize the villain with the most elegance, Bakugou style. She doesn't take it in with the same rapt. Doesn't hold her breath or tighten her grip on her knees, not like you.

"Her husband picked her up. They're having dinner," Yaeko sings, then sighs dreamily. "Oh, if only mine would pick me up with a nice, sleek car."

The villain finally registers he's clearly overestimated his plan for victory and starts begging for mercy. Dynamight appears too distracted to even feel victorious about it.

"That would be nice," you agree, though you're not really sure what she's saying anymore as Dynamight takes the last win. His expression looks off — far away.

'And once again, #1 Pro Hero Dynamight proves why he's at the top, breaking his last three-minute record! Looks like he'll be securing this year's ranking as well.' The reporter gushes like it's some Olympic Sport. Dynamight would grin like a fucking bastard, too, usually, but not today, it seems.

"How come I never see your husband?" Yaeko asks all of a sudden.

"That would be no good," you say, chuckling. "He's busy enough as he is."

Yaeko appraises your assured smile. "Hm. Is that what he says?"

The reporter continues gushing, "And he flees the scene in a signature Dynamight hit-and-run. He might be off to save another city; who knows!"

"That's what everyone says, really," you say cryptically, moments later. You wonder why Dynamight looked so distracted. It wasn't like him.

In the immediate silence that follows, you spare a glance at your co-worker. Yaeko looks thirsty for prying, but as soon as her shoulder comes in contact with yours, she rears back with a gasp.

"You're still sick!" she admonishes, not unlike in the tone a mother hen if they could speak and grip both your shoulders. "I was wondering why you even came today when you were all but dying last night."

You jerk away. "I was just feeling a little feverish. Nothing too bad.”

Yaeko clicks her tongue. The chair slides back as she pushes off to get water from the dispenser near the TV. The reporter drones on about how fortunate they were to witness the Pro Hero in broad daylight, followed by the dispenser's buzz.

"Your husband let you out like that?" she asks.

"He doesn't know," you murmur shamefully.

Yaeko appears unimpressed, holding the cup to your lips. You sigh and move to keep the glass yourself, feeling a little petulant about it.

Commotion begins to pick up in volume from outside, muted by the walls. Yaeko pays no mind to it, but your hair picks up on its ends. When there's a stifled sound of explosion, you understand why. The news moves to a different topic, though it seems that the headlines made its way to you himself.

"Shit. Hide me, Yaeko-san. Please."

Yaeko frowns. "What? Hey, don't move so much."

The door slides open and presents the #1 Hero himself, sweating and seething and still looking like a dream. He has to twist his upper body, the door for ordinarily built men unable to accommodate his solid, beefy arms.

"You," he growls, eyes blazing.

"Noo." You shield your face with the crook of your arm, but there isn't a single wall in the world that Dynamight can't break through.

Behind him, the security guard emerges and looks rightfully guilty. He makes a gesture of 'I tried, sorry. It's up to you now.'

He grips your elbow and pushes it out of view until your face is bare, and you're witness to his very, very angry face. "I told you not to punch in for work."

He did say that. "Uhh…"

"You went all," He pitches his voice somewhere obnoxiously high, "'Don't worry, baby, I won't!' — we lyin' to each other now?"

You did also say that.

"Baby?" Yaeko whispers to herself, stunned.

Dynamight scowls, ripping his glove out to press it on your forehead, his skin ice-cold. You wonder if this is how the villain from earlier felt, though maybe with a little less arousal at the sight of his eyes. "Fuckin' idiot," he mutters under his breath.

"D-Dynamight, sir," Yaeko pipes up, looking shell-shocked, "please unhand my co-worker."

"Ha? You the one who asked this idiot to clock in?"

"No." You shield Yaeko's terrified expression with your hand. "No, she didn't. I did it myself."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a dumbass on your own," he says, and now the familiarity of bickering feels more like your Katsuki in the walls of your home. Your husband, who seriously came all the way here after kicking some ass. Katsuki turns to Yaeko. "Tell your boss we're leaving. Don't call."

And he pulls you up and drags you off. You half-expected him to throw you over his shoulder, but his neck brace might dig into your side painfully, and Katsuki has already considered it despite his boiling anger at your disobedience.

"Katsuki," you whine, heating up at the stonished staring while you're tugged off into the exit. "Did you really fly all the way here just to kidnap me home?

"The hell's with that," he snaps. "I'm clocking out for the day 'cause I'm not stupid like your stupid ass."

"Katsuki!"

"'sides," Katsuki gives you a long look over his shoulder, and oh, is this what he was thinking about the entire time? Your heart does a bit of somersaulting. "Who else is gonna take care of you?"

Yaeko can keep her nice, sleek cars. Nothing beats this.

[rainybubbles]

What hug COD men would give you ?

Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, Keegan

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

G H O S T : Comfort hug.

You always used to jokingly ask Simon, "Want a hug?" knowing how much he detested physical contact.

He'd always respond with a firm no.

It became your way of greeting this burly soldier, a ritual of sorts.

So why... why was he now whispering those words to you?

"Need a hug?" His voice was hoarse, raspy, bearing the marks of too many cigarettes and too much silence. Yet there was an unexpected warmth in it, a warmth that could thaw you.

"No." you said.

Cold and trembling, with lips turning blue and tears welling in your eyes, you were at your breaking point.

It started with a soldier's criticism, then your chief's belittling of your work, followed by a letter from your mom, a malfunctioning oven, and a stubborn onion. It all culminated in your retreat to the cold room, seeking solace, seeking release.

But the door was jammed, leaving you alone in your despair. What a pathetic demise for a cook. Yet Ghost, ever watchful, came to your rescue, finding you in your distress. And in that moment, he echoed your jest.

"Need a hug?" he repeated.

You nodded. He knelt beside you, gathering you in his arms, offering not just his warmth but also solace. Your arms instinctively wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"It's okay."

"The lock, it—"

"For everything."

"Do I look that awful?"

"Yeah."

"You're supposed to say no."

"Not a liar, darling."

"Not a hugger either, but here you are."

"You're the exception, I suppose."

You were.

What you initially thought were mere circumstances now seemed to hold a deeper truth.

And the next day, when you initiated your ritual greeting with "Need a hug?" Simon's response of "maybe" signaled a shift in your dynamic.

________________________________

SOAP : "I'm home in your arms" hug.

He always gives hugs.

Soap is a very physical person; you knew that even though you were just a friend of a friend. You never dared to speak to him much, too shy. He seemed like a sun.

At gatherings, you were always quiet, so you weren’t sure if he remembered your name.

But he always had his eyes on you, always had his hug for you, and when nobody listened to your ramblings, he was there asking you to continue.

It was a silly crush; his hugs were something you secretly enjoyed. A thing, a treat for your heart, even though you knew it wouldn’t be more.

So when you opened your door, expecting it to be the delivery man from something you ordered online or maybe some important packages to sign, but…

You got bumped into.

You fell with the strength of the stranger’s hug until you recognized the mohawk.

“John?”

“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, helping you up.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m the one who needed a place. Mancy asked you, right?”

You remembered.

Mancy had asked if her friend could stay at your place for one week.

You didn’t know it would be John.

“Oh, yeah.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Well, if you hug me so hard I’ll fall every day, then no.”

He chuckled.

“It’s because I’ve missed you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, after three months without your pretty smile, a man goes insane.”

“My dad lives just fine without it.”

“True, but he’s a moron. I’m not. Now give me a hug.”

“Okay.”

And you did.

Gently, you noticed his hands around your waist, the way he slowly soothed his breath.

You didn’t know, but the only thought Johnny had in mind was, “I’m home.”

____________________________

GAZ : "I'm sorry" hug

The TV droned on in the background, but your gaze couldn't focus on it. Your stomach was tied in knots, and you felt utterly lost. 

The argument had been trivial, blown out of proportion by fatigue and frustration. You and Kyle were both drained, and the clash of tempers only fueled the misunderstanding, escalating it into a full-blown confrontation.

Now, you found yourself at a loss for what to do next. Kyle had stormed off for a walk, his usual retreat during tough times. But this time, his absence felt like an eternity.

You knew you could reach out, ask him where he was, beg him to come back. Yet, your stubborn pride held you back.

Was it pride or fear? Fear that he wouldn't return?

The nagging voice in your head echoed the doubts others had planted—that you weren't good enough for him, not pretty enough, not kind enough. You felt inadequate, unworthy of his love.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, your nose tingling with the threat of more to come. It felt absurd to be sitting here, watching a documentary while your relationship teetered on the brink of collapse.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you sat there, watching a documentary you couldn't even comprehend. 

When the door finally creaked open, your heart leaped into your throat, memories of past confrontations resurfacing. But the footsteps that followed were hesitant, tentative.

Turning slowly, you found Kyle standing there, mirroring your own disheveled state. Puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks spoke volumes of his own internal struggle.

Standing up, you met his gaze, unsure of what to say or do.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the silence that enveloped you both.

"Me too," you replied, your own voice catching in your throat. "It was foolish of me to let my anger get the better of me."

"I agree," he murmured, stepping closer. "We need to find a better way to communicate, darling."

"Yeah, and maybe get some sleep," you added, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Definitely," he whispered, extending his hand towards you.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his touch, and allowed him to pull you into an embrace. In that moment, words became superfluous as you both sought solace in each other's arms, tears mingling and laughter bubbling forth.

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Me too," he confessed, his grip tightening around you. "But being with you makes everything better."

"Agreed," you murmured, snuggling closer.

"What if..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"What if what?" you prompted, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

"What if we can't sleep because of the neighbors?" he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, what about them?" you replied, confused.

"Let's move out," he proposed, his eyes earnest.

"Kyle, we live in separate apartments," you reminded him, a hint of skepticism creeping into your tone.

"Then let's get a house," he persisted, his gaze unwavering. "A place where it's just you and me, lost in the forest. Our sanctuary."

"You're just saying that," you countered, though a flicker of hope ignited within you.

"I mean it," he insisted, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want a life with you, everything included. The silly arguments, the morning wake-ups, all of it. I don't want to wait to see you, but I also don't want you living on base. A house... it's us, it's safety, it's peace, it's..."

"Commitment," you finished for him, the weight of his words settling in your heart.

"Yeah, that too," he admitted, a shy smile gracing his lips.

"Okay," you whispered, a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yeah," you confirmed, squeezing his hand.

He enveloped you in a tighter embrace, and in that moment, you knew that perhaps this sorry hug was the beginning of something beautiful.

________________________________

PRICE : last hug

You felt his embrace, and a smile graced your lips.

“I never pegged you as a hugger, Captain,” you remarked.

“Don’t talk, soldier,” he replied, his voice firm yet gentle.

Nevertheless, you found comfort in his arms, basking in the warmth they provided. Your consciousness nudged you to close your eyes and surrender to the moment.

“Cap, can I rest?” you inquired softly.

“Not yet,” he responded tersely.

“But why? Even ghosts nap during brief,” you persisted.

“Don’t make me spell it out,” he said, his voice trembling, tears glistening in his eyes. 

Confusion laced your whisper, “Why are you crying, Cap?”

As you attempted to step back, you felt something damp on his hands. Bringin your own hand up, you saw it- red, your blood.

Blood.

Your blood.

It wasn’t a mere cut; it was a hemorrhage.

“Why…” you began, your voice trailing off.

“Don’t give up,” he interjected, his tone weighted with understanding.

He knew. You knew.

You wouldn’t last, and the medics wouldn’t arrive in time.

“Cap, could you...hold me tighter?” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper.

“Soldier,” he acknowledged.

“Just one last embrace, please,” you implored, a desperate longing for affection evident in your words.

Yearning for one final moment of love.

He acquiesced.

You buried your nose in his aftershave, despite the mingling scent of tobacco. Your arms savored the feel of his gear, your cheek nuzzling against his neck, the roughness of his beard against your skin.

Despite the warmth he provided, a chill crept over you. Your lips grew heavy, your eyelids too burdened to stay open.

“I'm glad it was you, Cap. Your hugs are the best,” you murmured, a serene smile gracing your lips.

With your blood staining his gear and your body cradled in his arms, he granted you your last hug, whispering your name softly.

____________

KEEGAN : "you're alive" hug

His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, his ears filled with screams. His eyes focused on Ghost’s voice, and then he saw you, lying on the ground.

What were you doing on the battlefield? You were a civilian. He sprinted towards you, but your body remained still. He reached out for your hands, but they slipped from his grasp.

Nightmare.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. His back was drenched in sweat, his mind replaying the image of you lifeless. He couldn’t move.

Reaching for his phone, he knew he wouldn’t believe you were alive until he saw it with his own eyes. He made his way to your shared flat, knocking on your door.

As you slowly opened your bedroom door, relief washed over him. "Keegan, what the hell—" He cut you off with a tight embrace, his hands on your neck feeling the rhythm of your heartbeat. "You're alive."

"Yeah, obviously. You saw me just two hours ago, we're roommates, Keegan."

"You're alive," he repeated, his voice trembling with emotion.

Seeing his state, you melted into the hug. "You need to sleep."

"I can't."

"In my bed, you can check if I'm alive like this, okay?"

"I don't want to—"

"Keegan."

"Okay."

Slowly, he settled into your bed, your warmth comforting him. You worked on your laptop, but he didn't mind. His arms wrapped around your body, he could feel the steady beat of your heart. He knew it was his favorite sound because it meant you were alive.

"Sleep well, Keegan."

"Thanks."

And that night, he didn’t have any more nightmares, wrapped in your embrace.

If you want more : my masterlist

[lemon-russ]

Im so sorry if this comes off as demanding requesting or something but ive got Leman on the brain and it's AGH

i feel like that man would be almost suffocatingly warm. Like 'coming inside from being out in the snow and he's literally steaming' kind of warm

Man's would curl up around you like a dog if you shiver even a LITTLE around him. "Oh there's a meeting? Professionalism be damned my partner's cold and I'm putting them on my lap, deal with it"

You're fine!! Super cute Idea thank you!

Short Leman Russ x Gn!Reader :))

Leman stood over the table of maps, holo projections and battle plans as his brother Guilliman walked him through strategies.

“I feel like if we have you come in from this front, we can have my men come in here…” Guilliman droned on as he demonstrated on the maps.

A few Ultramarines mixed with Space Wolves around the room, looking stiff as always to Leman.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention away from the maps, and he turned to see you coming in, snow flakes still sticking to the fluffier parts of your hair and melting on your face into little droplets.

You kicked snow off your boots, and reluctantly started to unwrap your snow-wet scarf, cheeks pink and nose red. You looked up at Leman with a small smile, shivering slightly.

“The snow really is picking up out there-” you started to say, but were interrupted by Leman making a displeased sound and crossing the room to you in a couple long strides.

Guilliman paused and watched, a frown of annoyance growing as Leman picked you up under the arms. You squeaked, but were quickly tucked up to his chest. He swiftly pulled off the rest of your damp outer layers, and re-wrapped his furs so you were wrapped in them, sandwiched between the pelts and his warm, dry tunic.

“Is the interruption necessary, brother?” Guilliman asked tiredly.

Leman huffed, cradling you in one arm under his furs, only your eyes and nose peaking out, and bringing you with him back to the war table.

“Baselines get sick when they're cold.” he said dismissively.

Guilliman sighed at his unprofessionalism, but Leman simply wrapped his other arm around you to warm you faster.

[molsno]

if your political stance is that people changing their bodies to be more attractive is wrong because it's "unnatural", you're wrong on all accounts. people have been modifying their appearances to be more attractive, including physically and permanently altering their bodies, since before the dawn of homo sapiens as a species.

the problem is not that women are choosing to undergo cosmetic procedures to better meet the beauty standards of the present day, and if you think that women (especially trans women) simply choosing not to do these things would accomplish anything, you're sorely mistaken.

the problem is that men hold institutional power in society, and they can use that power to punish women who don't conform. yes, this power they hold undoubtedly influences the decisions of women who undergo these cosmetic procedures, but those women are not all mindless drones bowing to the patriarchy because they don't know any better or they haven't liberated themselves. yes, some of them hold internalized misogyny and willingly uphold these standards, but most of the women who choose to modify their bodies understand that refusing to do so will materially harm them. they're making informed decisions to improve their well-being as much as they can under the conditions of the society they live in.

frankly, I find the idea that most women aren't intelligent enough to realize that they're "complicit in their own oppression" appalling and horrifically misogynistic. you can criticize "choice feminism" all you want, and there are very good reasons for doing so, but placing doubt on women's intelligence and agency, thereby blaming them for their own oppression, is not progressive. it has long been a radical feminist tactic, in fact. if that's who you want to align yourself with, then frankly I don't think you have anything interesting, insightful, or even true to say about feminism.

if, however, your problem is that women are being pressured into cosmetic procedures that they will be punished for not adhering to, then your goal must be to abolish the power structures that allow women to face these punishments in the first place. your targets should be the institutions of wage labor, private property, colonialism, police, the medical industry, organized religion, state marriage, and all of the other institutions that uphold the global system of capitalist exploitation. only when women can no longer be deprived of our individual human rights for failing to conform to the misogynistic expectations placed upon us will we truly be free to make decisions about our own bodies.

[david-talks-sw]

"Bring in the flamethrowers!"

The above moment from The Clone Wars gets brought up a lot to illustrate Ki-Adi Mundi or the Jedi's moral decadence, a fall from grace caused by the war.

Figured I'd point out a couple of things in support of Ki-Adi!

1) Simple answer: the situation called for it.

The Geonosians attacking Ki-Adi were:

enemy fighters

with the element of surprise

who could fly and were thus harder to hit with the clones' blasters, hence why more wide-ranging weapons like flamethrowers were called for, as the clones were getting picked off one-by-one.

Time was of the essence, men were dying, Ki-Adi made a choice.

Wanna know what Jedi choose when a Geonosian isn't actively trying to kill them? They save its life (and get praised for it by their peers).

2) In-universe, the Geonosians are assholes.

From Attack of the Clones - The Illustrated Companion, 2002:

"Geonosians are a physically intimidating race conditioned to live and work in caste-segregated hives. The vast majority of Geonosians are subservient to the ruling caste, and throughout Geonosian society, there is evidence of a biologically engineered class system. Some Geonosians have wings, while drones do not. [...] The blind obedience of menial Geonosians makes them an easily exploitable workforce for the upper classes, who have built a highly profitable business manufacturing Battle Droids, Super Battle Droids, and Droideka Droids for the Trade Federation and its allies."

"For unusually intelligent Geonosians unlucky enough to be born into the lower castes, participating in the games provides the only chance they will ever get to escape the misery of their downtrodden lifestyles and the rigid social expectations of the upper classes. Triumph in the arena is often a hollow victory, however; while lower- and middle-class Geonosians may win the right to talk to their superiors, they can never earn their respect."

Okay, so the winged upper class are obviously elitist bastards, but how is that even remotely relevant--

-- oh. But hey, two of them don't have wings! Those are members of the drone caste, and they're all begotten underdogs, so--

"If there is one thing that unites Geonosians of all classes, it is their xenophobia. A traditionally isolationist species, they fear espionage attempts by rivals eager to learn the secrets behind their latest droids."

-- oh. Huh.

Bottom line: yes, they're sentient... but they're xenophobic, have an elitist caste system, and earn their living by forging weapons that melt your insides or blow up planets.

Now sure, this notion has been explored and deconstructed in Star Wars: Rebels...

... and I'm not entirely sure if the quoted info still holds true in current Disney canon (the lore is from 2002, after all), but if you ask me?

On a normal day, ol' Klik-Klak would be actively trying to murder the entirety of the Ghost crew for daring to even step their dirty non-Geonosian feet on his pure red planet.

3) Out-of-universe, the Geonosians are just "bug aliens". Nothing more.

The production team of Attack of the Clones referred to them as the "termite people". The script describes them as "winged creatures" who are heard "chuckling" once Anakin and Padmé are sentenced to a gruesome death. At some point, the storyboard artists considered introducing the Geonosian workers like you would a horror monster.

Hell, the whole Lucas decided to base them on termites is because his house was besieged by them.

They're not people, which is why they're not designed to look like people. They're purposefully dehumanized so that when one of them gets killed by our heroes, it's ethically "okay" and the audience doesn't need to stop and think "oh my God, that's murder!" or "hey! that's racist" whenever a clone calls one of them a "bug."

A similar logic is applied to the stormtroopers, who have face-covering helmets that dehumanizes them.

Functionally, a stormtrooper is a fascist goon, nothing more.

Same goes for the Geonosian. It's a bug alien, that's about it.

4) The flamethrowers were probably just added because they're cool.

Dave Filoni described how the decision to add flamethrowers came up, and it doesn't sound like George had deeper storytelling motives:

"You know, we're going through the tunnel with the Geonosians and George is like: “Yeah, well, here, we'll have the-- the tunnel and the flamethrowers. Yeah. How about that? ‘Bring in the flamethrowers!’ have Ki-Adi Mundi say ‘bring in the flame throwers!’” And it's like “flame—- What? Flamethrowers?!”" - Dave Filoni, “Return to Geonosis” Featurette, 2010

It sounds like he came up with it on the spot.

The flamethrowers aren't indicative of "the moral degradation of Ki-Adi and the Jedi Order." They're likely just in there 'cause they're cool (and if you've played Team Fortress 2, you know that's true)!

At the end of the day, when it comes to the Geonosians, I think that there's a certain irony to how their story ends.

They gleefully created the battle droids that tore the galaxy asunder and the Death Star, a weapon that enables the Empire to commit genocide... but fell victim to genocide themselves, at the hands of an even bigger monster.

They reaped what they sowed. They're not meant to be mourned.

And it's nice to see this aspect of the narrative doesn't get ignored as much as I would've expected.

I came across this video that basically rips into Ki-Adi for using flamethrowers, and I was ready to roll my eyes when I scrolled down to the comments section...

... but then, a happy surprise!

Most of the comments disagree with the video's stance! For once, logic prevails over anti-Jedi bias.

So yeah, that put a smile on my face.

[rakurairagnarok]

Hi there! I'm heading to the U.A.E. from America in a few days and I'm quite anxious. I was wondering if there was any clothing at Rakurai Inc which would help me fit in better with the locals and boost my confidence and assertiveness?

Glad you got in touch! We have exactly what you have been looking for!!

You found a package when you got home from work. It was a completely blank box except for a small sticker reading Rakurai Inc.

You open it up to find a slick looking headset in it, with some arabic inscriptions on it. You look around the box, but can't find anything on how it works. It doesn't seem to have a jack in it nor any way for you to connect it to your phone with bluetooth so you decide to put it on.

Immediately it starts to play a tape.

"Learning module activated. Scanning for necessary courses"

Suddenly a weird humming begins to drone in your ears. Along with it certain arabic sounding phrases started playing in your head. The first few times you couldn't understand any of it, but suddenly you understood most of it.

"Big, strong, fertile"

Images of big strong arabic men appear in your head. You stumble a bit as your sense of balance was thrown off. You look down and see the legs of your pants have gone up your legs. You watch it with facination as the headset continues.

"Large, Leader, Rich"

Your head begins to spin again and you can barely get yourself on the couch.

You look down to see your pants tight on your legs, almost painted on. You see your bulge growing in your pants, and with it waves of pleasure start spreading through your body.

The tape speeds up, a larger variety of phrases being pushed into your brain, while your mind fogs over due to the pleasure.

"Plump, handsome, regal"

"In charge, charismatic, addictive"

"Cultured, gorgeous, playfull"

Your body keeps growing. Bisceps exploding through the fabric of your shirt, while your pecs are involuntarily bouncing. Your waist snaps, slimming down while your abs flex and push to the surface. Your back widens, shoulders rounding out. Your growing cock starts leaking, before bursting free from the confines of your pants. Your moans echo through your appartment, a previously unknown amount of pleasure radiating through your body.

Your hands explore your growing body.

"Wanted, desired, needed"

"Hungry, hungry, hungry"

You are hungry. A primal hunger that you couldn't satiate here. You need ... you want to be...

"Topped, fucked, bred"

Yes... your mind racing, you want cock, you need it, but you are in charge.

Your ass growing, you feel your hole pucker. It tenses, and releases. You know. You don't get fucked. You fuck. You aren't just a bottom. You drain your partners. They aren't penetrating you, you allow them to enter you, for them to experience the best moment of their lives.

"In charge, draining, dominant"

A grin appears on your face, a face that has been perfected due to your new toy. Sharp jaw, perfectly trimmed beard. Plump lips to get their tool ready.

You make them desperate for more. You got loads of different "tops" on speed dial. They say they're a top, but they are actually too afraid to take it, but you're much better.

You take of your headphones and look around your room. It's a penthouse in one of the most expensive buildings in the U.A.E. which had been gifted to you by one of your clients. You look at your phone and see a few notifications telling you of the massive amount of money you have made from your previous night out.

You smile, life is good.

I hope you enjoyed our trial edition language learning headphones!!! As seen in the picture they are state of the art and can be modified to fit any needs. Be aware some side effects may occur, cultural switch, sluttyness, or iq loss are some of the most common. Please continue your patronage with Rakurai Inc.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

Oooough so um. You know the "Eggman finds and raises tails instead of Sonic" AUs and how that usually fucks up the little guy in a special way? Haha so I had an idea like that but with Nine

(Bear with me this is like half the shit my brain came up with on a 30 min car ride there's already so much abt this in my head help)

So a scrawny kit without a Denizen number was detained in Dr.Babble's district due to repeated offenses of wandering off the path and also under the suspicion of stealing and repurposing council robot parts (all strictly prohibited)

After some back and forth and confirmation that he has no affiliation with the resistance, or even a family house to be sent back and locked up in, the Council concludes he could be useful to them. The little thing is smart, knows his way around machines (if the reports are to be belived), is quiet and no one would miss him if things went wrong. He was a freak snatched off the street anyway.

Of course, their first thought was to fully robotize him, and have him do some basic maintenance or reconnaissance alongside Rusty, one of their only actual still standing successful robotized projects, but Mr.Dr. objects, saying it would be a waste if they turned him into a mindless drone doing basic work. So they agree (to disagree) to give it some time and let them see what they're working with, it's not like the little guy is expected to be somewhere else.

After a few days of not-so-subtle emotional manipulation and observation of the fox at work, it's concluded (albeit very begrudgingly) that he has the skills and intellect to match and even surpass all five members of the council.

Of course, that's a threat and a very high liability if the the little freak gets any funny ideas, so the council actually has to play smart instead of brute force their way to subjugation like usual.

A deal is proposed.

If the little fox, now their ninth robotization project in wait, agrees to pledge his alliance directly under the thumb of the council and is fine with the loss and metallic replacement of just a few body parts and vital organs, in turn, he doesn't have to mingle with the measly and pathetic citizens bellow ever again, gains full reign over all of the resources available (with strings attached of course) to keep the five men at full power and finally destroy any resistance once and for all.

The kit, now marked 09 (or simply 9 for colloquial convenience) accepts the deal without much hesistation, the loss of his vital organs seemed to spook him the most, but it's not like he cares about anyone in the city, or vice versa. As far as he sees it, losing his biological arms and jaw is hardly a difficult deal for being sound and secure, fed and housed, protected from any and all elements, and left alone for most of his days. He now lives in the walls of the Tyrants' castle yes, but it's not like he has any reason to feel bad or like he betrayed anyone.

Not like he ever knew anything else but cold pavement and eye-blinding xenon in a city where you can only trust yourself. It's either dying under the suffocating regime or taking any chance given to swing above it. He just got lucky, and it was about damn time he did.

The resistance is nothing but a desperate cult of people deluding themselves with unreachable fantasies and sending their followers on suicide missions. The citizens nothing but ants there to keep the machine running and make all the infrastructure around them useful, and 09, finally, stood above both.

[ang3lc]

3 ⋮ Fault Lines

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

7.23.22 - 0923

The hum of the engines droned in my ears as I sank deeper into the uncomfortable seat, staring out into the sky. Stars and faint city lights blinked in and out of sight as the plane glided through thin clouds, but nothing out there held my attention for long. I kept trying to let the white noise calm me, but something clawed at me from the inside, sharp and restless.

This mission had too many unknowns. They'd given me barely anything before sending me up here, but whatever was waiting in D.C. felt like it came with strings attached. I shifted, cracking my knuckles to give my hands something to do other than pick at the skin on my fingers. The quiet had my mind wandering into places I'd spent years avoiding like the plague.

I took a shaky breath, but that only made the memories edge closer. Shadows of a different night fell over my vision: a dark hallway, a closed door at the bottom of the stairs. I could hear his voice, booming and vicious, rattling through the floorboards as I crept closer, Mr. Blankey in my clutches. I was a kid then, smaller, terrified, but moving toward it anyway, barely breathing. The steps groaned under my feet, but I kept going, pulse racing. I could still feel the way my heart had pounded back then, every beat reminding me I was just a kid who shouldn't be there.

My chest tightened. I gripped the armrests, forcing myself to swallow down the memory, forcing myself to stay here, in the present. Not now, but the feeling lingered, like some shadow I couldn't shake.

The engines hummed louder, steady, keeping me grounded, at least for now. But with every mile that brought me closer to D.C., I felt the weight of something else growing, something that had stayed with me all these years, buried deep. This new assignment wasn't just another order. It wasn't routine. And I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was coming, I was running straight into it, alone.

I pressed my fingers to my temples, closed my eyes, and tried to will the memories away, at least for now. 

Focus, I told myself. Get your fuckin' shit together, Bea. You've fought wars 'n carried wounded soldiers through minefields. 

The darkness would have to wait.

...

The wheels hit the tarmac with a thud that seemed to echo in my bones, rattling loose the last pieces of sleep I'd managed to catch during the flight. The plane rolled to a halt, and I watched the gray, washed-out landscape of D.C. in the early morning light. The city lay ahead, sharp and distant, an expanse of concrete and stone framed by the hint of dawn just beginning to edge over the horizon. Everything felt cool and clinical—the exact opposite of where I'd come from, of what I knew.

I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment, feeling the weight of it shift awkwardly as I slung it over my shoulder. I stepped down the narrow aisle, my boots echoing softly on the metal, the sound carrying in the quiet emptiness of the plane. The flight crew nodded as I passed, but I kept my gaze forward, focusing on the strip of light spilling in from the doorway. Stepping out, I was greeted by the damp warmth of D.C.'s humid air clinging to my skin, heavy and unyielding, so different from the dry heat back home.

At the foot of the metal stairs, two men in crisp black suits stood waiting, arms crossed, expressions obscured by dark sunglasses that seemed more for show than necessity given the somber morning sun. Their gazes felt like they were peeling me apart, sizing me up, even if I couldn't see their eyes. I forced myself to look past them, as if I were unaffected, and continued down the stairs.

One of the men inclined his head. "They're ready for you at headquarters. Car's this way."I nodded, sparing him only a glance, and followed him toward a sleek, black Subrurban idling on the runway's edge.

The driver opened the back door, and I slid in, the blast of cold air conditioning making goosebumps erupt on my skin. I stole a quick glance around the interior—leather seats, tinted windows, faint scent of new car and disinfectant. No distractions. No personal touches. Just business.

As we pulled away, the hum of the engine filled the silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio on the dash. I pressed back against the seat, my eyes fixed on the road ahead as we left the empty airstrip and merged onto the narrow road leading out of the private terminal. I knew where we were headed, but that didn't stop the questions from clawing at me, each one louder than the last. Why me? Why now? And for what?

I exhaled, trying to steady my pulse. For a brief moment, the distant trees lining the road blurred in my vision, and suddenly I was back in Georgia, in that cramped hallway with the smell of spilled beer and stale cigarettes, with the light overhead casting everything in a dull, sickly yellow. I could almost hear the shouts, the crash of glass—the sound of fists against flesh. My own hands tightened involuntarily, my fingernails would've left bloody crescents in my palms if I hadn't already peeled them to the skin. I forced my mind back to the present, locking the memory away, but the familiar burn of anger lingered.

The Suburban took slow, deliberate turns, leading us away from the city, and I felt myself refocus, letting the greenery of D.C. wash over me. Langley, McLean, the reflective green sign read, and seemingly the only one for miles. Guess that's where we're going. The roads were empty and seeming exclusive. We pulled onto several side roads, the air thick with anticipation as the CIA's main HQ eventually came into view—a looming fortress of glass and steel, clinical and unyielding.

The car slowed to a stop and I stepped out. Here, everything was clean and precise—just lines, steel, stone. The polar opposite of home. But somewhere within these walls was a purpose, one that I had been brought here to fulfill.

The door behind me slammed shut with a decisive click, snapping me back to the present.

I followed the suited man across the paved walkway, my boots echoing against the polished concrete, each step bringing me closer to the building's massive glass doors. As they slid open, I was hit with a wave of icy air, a stark contrast to the muggy morning outside. Inside, the walls were lined with brushed metal and sharp angles, every surface pristine, like they hadn't seen a speck of dust in years.

My guide led me through the lobby and down a series of identical corridors, each turn making it feel as though we were moving deeper into the belly of some steel giant. Occasionally, someone would pass us in the hallway, all nodding as they hurried by, eyes sliding over me with a mix of curiosity and disregard. They couldn't be phased by my scarred face or my seemingly permanent 11's. They had places to be, missions to plan, orders to execute. I was just another face in the maze. The complete opposite of Hunter.

Finally, we reached an unmarked door, the corresponding windows blacked out. My guide gave me a brief nod before opening the door and stepping aside, revealing a small, discrete conference room. 

Shepherd, the man himself, sat at the head of a long, polished table, his shoulders set and his gaze focused, as if he were already sizing me up and trying to decipher what this meeting would mean for everyone involved. His pristine green suit matched the environment, various medals and pins signifying his commitment to the country. A General. 4-Star, at that. 

Kate Laswell was sat beside him, her sharp, yet kind eyes flicking to me the moment I entered, assessing me like she could figure out every thought under behind my eyes if she looked long enough. Her conservative, yet practical clothing signified that she didn't spend much time at her desk.

And then there was John Price, sat the opposite side of Shepherd and Laswell, forming the perfect triangle. His expression was indifferent, his eyes shadowed as they followed me across the room. A plain tee and jeans from what I could see. His beard definitely wasn't in regs, most likely because he didn't have regs he needed to follow. 

"Take a seat," Price turned toward me, his voice now slightly more welcoming, yet maintaining that undertone of command that left no room for argument. He's a Brit. Always hated those posh motherfuckers.

I slid into a chair across from them all, my back to the door as I set my hands on the table to keep them steady. I could feel a faint pulse of tension thrumming under my skin. General Shepherd cleared his throat, glancing between Price and Laswell as if to confirm they were all on the same page.

"Beatrice Dawson," Shepherd began. Southern, I noted. "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

"Sure am, Sir." I nodded and kept my gaze steady, waiting for the explanation.

Price leaned forward, resting his hands on the table as he spoke, his tone quieter, more measured. "We want to pull you in for a specialized task force," he said. "This team asks for a specific skillset. Focus, precision... My team. You're here because of what you bring to the table."

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in, but part of me remained cautious, guarded. My eyes flickered to Shepherd and Laswell, before returning to Price. " 'N the mission?"

Laswell's gaze sharpened as she spoke up, keeping her response measured. "We're in the early stages of an operation targeting a dangerous tyrant. Intel suggests that he's contributed and led terror acts across the globe. He's a... long-standing adversary that has resurfaced, and he's gathering power quickly. We want to hit him before he can gain more ground than he already has."

She paused, letting that sink in, and I could feel the implication hovering there. This wasn't some small, surgical operation; it was a full-scale assault on a highly connected man that wouldn't go down easily. I took a deep breath as I processed her words.

Price's blue eyes locked with mine and he chimed in. "This isn't a typical mission. It's going to require cooperation, absolute focus, and trust. You'll be working alongside men with extensive field experience. I can assure you, they're the best at what they do, and I expect you to operate alongside them and at that standard."

The words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken challenge and tension. I met his gaze, feeling a surge of determination rise in my chest. I couldn't help but catch the way he emphasized working as a team. I groaned internally, but the soldier that has been forged was rising to the occasion, nonetheless.

Shepherd leaned forward, his gaze steely and his arms crossed. "We aren't here to coddle you or hold your hand. You were selected because we trust you can operate at this level. But let me be perfectly clear: you do not jeopardize this mission. Not for anything. You follow orders, execute without question, and complete the objective. Are we understood?"

"Understood, Sir," I said, my voice steady.

Laswell's eyes softened just a fraction. My gaze flickered back to her as she spoke again. "Good. You'll have a chance to meet the team soon. For now, get settled, and be ready. You leave for Europe in less than twenty-four hours. Until then, you'll be set up in a secure hotel not far from where you landed. You are not to leave your room. Expect to be contacted tomorrow afternoon. Any questions you have will be answered on the plane."

Price gave me a final nod, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Dismissed."

I rose and gave them all a silent nod, feeling the weight of their expectations settle over me, the gravity of the task ahead pressing down as I stepped out of the room. The door closed behind me with a quiet click, and I was back in the silent hallway, alone with my thoughts. 

This wasn't just another assignment. It was a step into something bigger. The stakes had just been raised.

A/N: SHES MEETING THE BOYS SOON!!! and a small hint of extensive childhood trauma...?  more to come soon :) (ps sorry for the short chapters, next one will prob be wayyyy longer)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Hunter of Love.

Every decision made or not made branches off and creates new realities. There are a countless number of those realities.

Worlds of infinite choices—he will glimpse them all.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Rook dances through the darkness, unburdened and dauntless. Not a single step produces a sound—though if it had, the sound would no doubt be absorbed into the abyss. He glides effortlessly, a swan upon still water.

There is no road for his feet to follow, only a plane of darkness. Heels strike it, eliciting a clear clack-clack-clack, as if the floor is marble.

The walls—if they can be called that; there's nothing solid when he sticks his arms out to test the environment—are laden with full-body mirrors. They're mounted up upon nothing, floating in place, their reflective faces clean, clear, and free of cracks.

He is drawn to them, tugged along as if compelled by the red string of fate.

In each, he is presented with a novelty.

Familiar places and people, refracted and twisted into something new. Something beautiful.

An ethereal art gallery for his own amusement.

He turns his head, taps fingers along the frames of each realm in turn.

A Night Raven College with as many as fourteen dorms. A Night Raven College set upon a stage, scripts in the hands of every student. A Night Raven College of young women, not young men.

Jade with his hair styled up in a mohawk, a plethora of piercings studding his face. Kalim with a monkey upon his shoulder, sharing a platter of fruit. Young Epel in a pair of glasses, mouthing the lines to a play. Idia, smaller than even his younger brother, in an oversized sweater, playing on a mobile gaming console.

Rook imagines a great tree, its roots ever-growing, expanding deep, deep, deep into the soil and continuing still. Endless choices, endless possibilities.

C'est la vie—such is life.

He stops.

His hand now hovers over the glass casing of a tragedy.

Rook stares at a version of himself, collapsed beside a bottle of apple juice. Its caustic contents ooze out onto the ground, bubbling as it eats away at the floor.

The common man would be repulsed. Chilled to the bone. Frightened.

But Rook Hunt is not the common man.

"Comme c'est magnifique," he marvels. “Willingly consuming poison, wishing so desperately to believe that his queen was free of sin… Here lies a foolish dreamer in the aftermath, still having faith in his dear friend's integrity.”

Rook lingers, drinking in the details of the morbid work of art.

He does not move, does not breathe. Ignoring the bottle, it is as though he had been laid into a peaceful sleep. Lips arranged in a soft smile, long lashes cast over his cheeks.

A beautiful queen weeps for him, tears colored black as the night. His clothes are tattered, his crown tarnished. He is a flower of evil, stripped of his petals.

The next mirror, the mirror after—all horrific ends, varying shades of gruesome. Visions twisting, distorting.

A king dressed in roses slaying their victims, peasants who dares to defy their rule. A hyena dissolving into sand. Students trapped in constrictive tentacles, stripped of their talents.

Mindless drones lumbering around a seized castle. A reality dyed in ink, ruled by blue flames and Phantoms. And… a tangle of briar knitting over the world.

To him, they are just as lovely as the rest.

Heartbreaking, but lovely.

As that thought strikes him, the area ahead brightens. He spots color dotting the darkness.

They start as scribbles, clumsy trails of crayon left by a child's hand. Further along, the crayon gains dimension, turning into yarn threads. Eventually, they weave together to form a coherent path marked by cobblestones made of newspaper clippings.

It leads to a thicket unlike any he has ever seen.

Every glade of grass, every leaf and stem, is painted in a glistening coat of silver. The flowers are crystal, the fruit, plump jewels. The sky, a watercolor masterpiece of brilliant blues, white clouds dabbled on with an artist's sponge.

A tower rises in the distance, fine and thin like a needle. Its pointed roof pierces the heavens, and there is but one solitary window embedded in the structure.

Rook gasps, and a thousand or more reflected Rooks gasp too.

The leaves tinkle, a melody of wind chimes and bells. He feels as though they are beckoning to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the forest.

His feet have a mind of their own; they start moving, as if bewitched by the majesty of the enchanted wood, by the mystery of the tower. Beads of dew upon the grass are left untouched as he swiftly passes.

A call reaches out from a place far, far away. It's not quite speech, but vocalizations resembling speech--someone grasping for the right words, the right feeling.

There is a haunting hollowness to the siren song. A longing so immense it makes tears spring to his eyes.

It must be seeking its other half, Rook realizes. A harmony for its melody, to form a duet.

But the longer he tries to focus on the sound, the more he tries to parse out its parts, the more confused he becomes. The voice is contradictory: familiar and yet unfamiliar, happy and yet sad.

His pace quickens, as does his heartbeat. It's an anomaly for him, for whom calmness comes easily.

I must go to them, he thinks, unsure of why. I must.

Is there a yet-to-be-discovered wonder on the other side? His queen, whom he has sworn his undying loyalty to, in danger? Is it from the strange tower? A stranger requesting his aid?

Curiosity thrums through him.

Hurry.

The tower seems to drift farther and farther away with each step. The voice, fainter.

Hurry...!!

Rook runs.

The building accelerates. The trees expand as if to fill in the space where the tower had fled.

Wildlife carved of glass watch, some racing with him. A deerling on limber, elegant legs, a rabbit bouncing as high as it can. Even the fish skip atop the river that runs concurrent with the forest trail, and a flock of birds soar upon their crystalline wings.

They trill, they coo, they sing.

His run becomes a sprint, and the sprint becomes a gallop. The call to adventure, loud and clear in his ears.

He is one with nature, and nature is one with him.

I must see for myself what lies at the ends of this world--and beyond it.

His spirit brims, burning with determination.

Chasing something he doesn’t know the true nature, the true face, of. For that... is the thrill of the hunt.

[yanderelmk]

It's my birthday today 😊🎂

How do various yanderes celebrate their darling's birthday?

~💜💫

Oh my gosh happy birthday!! :D For the sake of not running out of space Imma group this together: ☀️MONKEY MEN🌑: They tried to make you a birthday cake...thing is neither of them know how to bake. They had to set their bitterness aside (or- well, they tried to) and the result was Wukong trying to distract you while Macaque scrambled around trying to find you something, even sending out his clones so he could sweep multiple stores at once (while pocketing a few shiny things for himself b/c mfer is a magpie). 🚦TRAFFIC LIGHT TRIO🚦: Mei got you a gift weeks in advance, she stays on top of birthdays. Same for Red Son! MK however didn't remember until the night before because ADHD is a bitch, but he likely ended up drawing a bunch of pictures of you, him, Red Son, and Mei. Mei also has a cake ready b/c she's The Best Ever. The trio's general vibe is just "BFFs 5ever because it's longer than 4" and everyone they care about is given the same treatment. 📖FREE NOODLES🍜: Pigsy is gonna be cookin' up a whole-ass STORM!! All of your favorite foods will be made, and breakfast is definitely served in bed. Dinner's gonna be a whole feast with the cake made extra special. Tang's the type of guy that follows "It's your birthday, so whatever you say goes!" He'll be fully open to trying out something new, and his gift is going to relate to a really niche subject that he knows you absolutely adore. It's likely he's done research to make sure he got the gift just right! 🕷️SPIDER DEMONS🕸️: These four are so wild it's funny. Spider Queen probably used her silk to make you a really fancy outfit, Syntax (who had your birthday set up as a reminder on his phone) probably is gonna give you some kind of drone that can help you out with mundane stuff (you get to name it). Goliath tried to make something, but whatever it is it's gonna be messy...he did his best. Huntsman? Deadass he probably went to go hunt your favorite animal so he could stuff it. If your favorite animal isn't in the area or it's a fictional one catch this extra-ass motherfucker carving a big-ass statue of it.

They had these gifts prepared. They knew your birthday was coming. They still all forgot until the actual day/the night before, for various reasons. Hey, at least the gifts are well-made. ☠️BONE DUO👻: Both the Lady Bone Demon and the Mayor are going to appear on your doorstep at midnight. They have a full day planned with ways to celebrate your birthday and 'no' is not an option. You will be spoiled!! The Mayor's got enough money to take you out in style, probably in his limo to fancy restaurants, most likely one of those rotating ones. The gifts will be exactly what you need, even if you didn't know you needed it yet. Even if it seems odd at first, best to just go along with it. 🪷CELESTIAL SQUAD🌙: Chang'e has a gigantic cake prepared, most likely one layer for each year of your life. She's been working on this for forever!! Nezha helped her prepare a big party on the moon for you. Both of them are likely to gift you presents of Celestial origins (blessed jewelry that protects you from demonic possession, or a very rare book). They might have lost count of their own ages, but they understand how important birthdays are to some people. 🦁THE🐘BROTHERHOOD🦅: They're completely unfamiliar with how mortals celebrate birthdays, but they're going to do their best. Cake? OK sure they can make one (it looks god awful). Presents? Surely any mortal would appreciate dangerous weapons and armor (it's horribly wrapped)! With the whole "listen to the birthday person" thing they might take it too literally. Like if you say "Let's hit the road" they are going to demolish that goddamn road b/c you said to and are the birthday person. Your wishes must be followed. They're trying they really are.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

The IDF has been releasing a lot of incriminating intel on the Shifa hospital in Gaza being used by Hamas. There's footage of a drone going into a terror tunnel underneath it.

There's pics of the weapons found there. There's the results of an investigation into the fate of 19 years old Noa Marziano, who was kidnapped by Hamas, lightly injured in an IDF strike, which killed the terrorist who was guarding her, another terrorist took her into the basement at the Shifa hospital, and killed her there, then Hamas tried to stage "evidence" that she was killed in the IDF strike. And most recently, there's CCTV footage showing Hamas bringing in hostages (one man from Nepal and one from Thailand) into Shifa, with the terrorists being armed, and all of this was done in broad daylight, and right in front of the medical staff.

Of course anti-Israelis, including the Hamas, said it was just bringing hostages in to get treatment.

But here's the thing, Shifa is on the Western side of Gaza, while Hamas breached the Israeli border in the east. On the way between the border and where this hospital is located, there are plenty of other medical facilities on the way. Any of them would be preferable if the goal was to give the hostages medical treatment as soon as possible. But they took these kidnapped men all the way to Shifa instead. Because that's Hamas' headquarters.

I've known for years, like most Israelis, that Hamas is using medical facilities like hospitals and ambulances for its terrorist activity. This evidence does not surprise me. But I think it didn't really sink in for me until yesterday, just how many people knew and kept silent. I'm not even talking about the Gazan medical staff. They live under the constant threat of Hamas, I don't blame them. But the UN, the Red Cross, all of those "noble" NGO's operating from Gaza (and getting a lot of donations to do so), all of those foreigners with access to Gaza, who knew the situation on the ground, and chose to lie, and continued to do so even after the Oct 7 massacre... WTF is wrong with these people? By keeping quiet, they endangered both Israeli civilians (who Hamas could continue to target with impunity when operating from inside medical facilities), and Palestinian ones that Hamas endangered by using them as human shields.

Who is going to hold these people accountable? Who is going to make them pay for their complicity in endangering so many people, millions altogether, on both sides of the border, so that they never dare do this again?

Have ANY of them come forward, apologized, taken responsibility for their long complicity? I've heard of no such thing. In fact, I assume that they will only raise the volume of their accusations against and vilification of Israel, to drown out the voices asking these questions.

In this tweet you can hear an interview (starting at around 35 seconds in) with one of the few foreign doctors, who had worked at the Shifa hospital, and who after Hamas' massacre, did not come forward with his testimony about what he'd seen and experienced while he was there, but did agree to have it recorded once he was asked to. If Hamas is finally taken down, we might get to hear more of these, and I guess... better late than never.

In the midst of all of this, Israel has helped evacuate babies from the Shifa hospital to ones in Egypt, and the equipment to established a second Jordanian field hospital has entered Gaza today.

Israel continues to be attacked by Iran-funded rockets from the south, from the north by Iran-funded Hezbollah, as well as from Syria, by the Iran-funded Houthis in Yemen, by independent terrorist attacks, and online from cyber attacks, by Iran-funded and even Iranian hackers. I kind of tend not to talk about these that much, because they're on going. It's happening every single day, and Israel, in the middle of the fight to destroy Hamas, has to also defend its people on these fronts.

The anger and hurt over the denial of rapes that happened as part of Hamas' massacre continues, and more people are trying to speak up against it:

This is 15 years old Itay Cohen.

He's a triathlete, and was in the middle of a training session, cycling in the south, when Hamas terrorists shot him. He was taken to a hospital without any family by his side, because his parents were locked inside a bomb shelter in their kibbutz. Itay took a bullet to the head, and lost his eyesight, but somehow survived. So did his parents. He vowed he won't stop training, despite his new disability. This terror attack has changed countless lives, from among the survivors as well.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[balkanradfem]

Your story about that man attempting to groom you was so sad, and I know it doesn't work like this, but you really shouldn't blame yourself. Predators are predators because they're good at hunting.

As a slightly cheering story, I wanted to share my exact opposite experience as a young woman that a man attempted to groom. It's extremely long, so start at your own risk.

When I was eight, my family moved out to a remote farm. And on one hand, it was awesome, because I got to spend years wandering forests and fields so remote that I only saw other humans a few times each year.

On the other hand, I was (and still am, lol) an pretty autistic woman who was receiving zero social feedback during critical formulative learning years. And my mother, who was a lesbian who had married a man because it was expected of her, was really my only major human contact since my father was always at work.

So when I went to college at eighteen, I was very feral and had zero respect for men as a sex, thinking of them as mainly bumbling idiots that you only interacted with if you wanted babies.

Shortly after I started living in the dorms at college, an old man (60s) came up to me in the library and started talking to me. And he was actually pretty fascinating, mainly because he owned a fox and my immediate plan was to befriend him in order to pet his fox. So we exchanged numbers and he immediately he starts calling me every day and would drone on for hours about his life. And I could not care less, so I would let him blabber on in the background while I played video games and ignored him. He started calling so often, that I actually unplugged my phone and then plugged it back in a few days later only for him to call at 3 AM. And when I picked up the phone, he identified himself, and I told it was 3 AM and demanded to know why he was calling at such an hour. He said he just wanted to hear my voice, so I replied "Well you have." and then hung up.

Days later, he calls again and asks if I would like to go out for food and shopping. I respond with deadpan no, and tell him I have no money. He responds he'll pay for everything. And it never occurs to me that there will be expectations from him, because that was just never anything that had occurred in my life. The only adults I knew often bought me food and clothing for no discernable reason.

So we go out, and right away he gives me a ring with a gemstone in it. He blathers on and on about how expensive it was (like $90?) and tells me he knows it's too soon but that I deserve it. And I'm nodding along because this is all true and correct, I am amazing, I am incredible, and people should give me tribute for no reason. (Growing up feral, your ego will never be checked once, so you grow up with iron self esteem.)

We go out to eat, he only talks about himself some more, I eat a delicious chicken plate and then he drives me to some mall. He then tells me to get whatever I want.

And in his head, I imagine he thought that the social expectations would have been set up, that I would pick something cute and made for his gaze, because I'm spending his money and he already paid for my dinner.

But instead, I beeline to the thickest working man's jeans, grab six pairs, and then go straight to the dressing room before slamming the door into his following face. I then try on all six by myself, before coming out and announcing them all adequate and that I will take them all.

He's completely crestfallen and tries to stear me towards the underwear before holding up a thin gauzy thong and recommending them. And I look at him with such distain, like he is the world's stupidest fucking idiot that just fell off of the slow truck, before responding, "Stop being stupid, those will be uncomfortable." I then demand he buys me a six pack of durable cotton granny panties.

After he purchasing everything, we drive back to my dorm and I hop out with my bags. But for some reason, he gets out too. So I turn and face him and just stare at him, waiting for him to explain himself. And he kinda falters and stammers that he thought I was going to invite him up. I inquire why in a severe tone, starting to suspect that I have befriended the village idiot.

He responds that he thought the date was going well so he wanted to come up and see my dorm. And my look of distain, disbelief, and disgust is so severe, that he looks shocked before I even respond: "Why would you think this was a date? You are so old. Older than my father. And ugly. And fat. And I am so young. Why would you ever think this was a date?" And my outrage is so strong that I stride away towards the lobby door without waiting for an answer. He shouts "I want my fucking ring back." and I tell him no, you can't take a gift back, before walking through the door and locking it after me.

I never saw him again and I disconnected my phone, but he did send me an increasingly deranged series of emails where first he attempted to blackmail me into returning the ring by threatening to tell my college that I was defrauding innocent men and get me expelled, and then eventually started writing fan fiction erotica about me and exactly what I did when I had sex with them. But none of it bothered me because you can't taunt or hurt someone with something that isn't true, so I continued to ignore them and eventually he stopped.

So I hope that experience made him too wary to try grooming any other women in the great that he would encounter another autistic farm girl.

By the way, I never got to pet that fox, and that's the real tragedy of this story, that I listened to his annoying voice for so long and didn't even get to touch it.

Noo you didn't get to pet the fox!! Do you think the fox was real, did you see pictures? Maybe it was fake, because that is a perfect pull. If someone came up to me with the information that he has a fox, that would also work on me, I would want to pet that fox so badly.

Other than that, you are incredible, I wish we could all download your mindset and live like this. Amazing, unstoppable, unbothered, cannot be guilted, unafraid, will look a m*n in the face and tell him exactly whats up.

The funny thing is that I thought the same about my creep! I thought he was so old and ugly and boring and stupid and how could he in any realm of possibility even attempt to think he could date me? It was so inappropriate to even imagine that! I just couldn't say that, it would seem unforgivable for me to hurt his feelings by speaking my mind on the issue.

Anon I admire you so much, I can't believe you weren't bothered by all of the insane things he did (calling, trying to blackmail you, writing erotica about you) because I would be at the end of my nerves, changing my name and address, living in hiding for 20 years.

You did the completely right thing by ignoring him, wait if he knew where your dorm was, would he ever wait for you or try to physically assault you? That would be my first fear. You must be so strong to be this brave. I can't even imagine.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Imagine the WoF/X-Men 🧪Hivemind AU starring dragonet Reader, Dad!Dragon!Logan, and a mix of the X-Men/Brotherhood teens trying to flee the hordes of zombies/drones...

Dad!Dragon!Logan would not be catching any breaks, and while yes, technically the Hivemind dragons don't want to hurt them (assimilation isn't peachy, though), he can't help but want to stab them over and over again. Some crazed, brainwashed lizards want to kidnap, possibly hurt, his kid? Turn any of his kids into that?! Oh blazing f*cking moons NO. Takes them to hide out in the places that are more obscure in Pantala/Pyrrhia, like the Pantalan mountains or sinkhole, and the Pyrrhian NightWing island and chilly area between the Sand and Ice Kingdoms. He is not taking chances, and he can't risk the zombies catching him, either. That means the kid/s would be on their own... And while yes, they are capable, would they really be able to last that long on their own, with no adult protection, no city or home to return to, and slimmer chances of a food source...?

If he and the dragonets were to slowly be picked off, I imagine he would be one of the first, if not the first, to be captured, likely defending one of the kids and getting knocked out while his head was turned. The Reader and the other dragonets don't want to leave him, but they aren't left with many options... A few have to stop Reader from trying to stay with him, dragging them back, even as they cry out... The group really is on their own now... And one by one... each encounter they have, trying to escape groups of drones, they seem to always lose someone... until it is just the Reader left, after months of searching for a safe haven and on their last legs...

Within the Hive, Logan would certainly put up a struggle, once he wakes up and finds himself strapped down and weak from whatever drug was used to sedate him... He hates seeing his friends like that, with their moon-white eyes and grinning faces, telling him it will be alright. That there isn't anything to fear, now that they're here for him... How it won't be long for the dragonets to join them... Try as he might, he can't break through his binds, and his frie- the drones, only shush him and pull out two needles... Strong arms keep him pinned even further, the nutjob who claimed they were brothers holding him firmly, along with a dragon who smells of rain and ice... The moment the first needle sinks in, he fights harder, only for the grips on him to tighten... The longer he breathes, the more tired he feels, his talons feeling weighed down and his head feeling heavier with each blink... Talons are soon patting him, soft voices reassuring him, and then the next needle slips in, sending something... warm... into him... A feeling akin to warm honey, sticky and sweet, slowly filling each crack and nook in his mind, sending the world around him spinning... Gentle buzzing stirs the back of his thoughts, small jolts of warmth and peace and calm injected in, like the soothing heat of a soft blanket...

Waking up, everything feels... odd, somehow. Even... right? Voices, his friends, their rivals, the old, the young, all warm and inviting and full of care and joy, happy to know he is safe and with them... But... "Where... where are the kids? Where's MY kid?"... The Hivemind stirs, relaying information to each other, less sentences and more memory, a knowing rather than a learning... The dragonets ran... And... They're alone.... No... no no nO NO! Burning MOONS, WHERE ARE THEY?! ... It takes awhile to spiral back down to themselves, having to lean out of their instincts, but they decide they have to find the kids... Those are THEIR kids, HIS kids, and they are on their own. THAT is unsafe, and means they aren't with THEM, in the Hivemind, within the Hive itself... Joining the search doesn't take long, over the next month or so finding the dragonets one after the other, until the only one still alone, out of reach... is the Reader...

And that just won't do...

And during the months on their own, Reader has been struggling. Losing their dad, their friends, and whatever family and home they once had, has not left them in a healthy mindset... Most days they hardly eat, staying curled up in a small, cold cave hidden within the mountains, only daring to venture out for water after days of not drinking... Their heart hurts, their mind hurts, even their body hurts, suffering from lack of food and crushing depression. But even still...

It doesn't take too long for Logan to find them, and he doesn't like what he sees: His kid, scrawnier and weaker than ever, terrified of every noise or shadow, and shaking with every move they make... It makes his heart break, his friends break, even Dragon!Victor (who was actually right... they were brothers... who would've thought...) break, seeing his once bright and sweet kid a scared, trembling shadow of themself...

They try to run... but it isn't much of a fight. It feels easy, too easy, for him to pin them, to pull them against himself in a firm embrace, trying to soothe them even as they weep and claw against him... Sadness rushes through him, a tacky, oily feeling of guilt bubbling over as he presses the dart into their scales, sending them into a sleepy, quiet state... He promises... he promises they'll be gentle, when they join them to the Hive... It might be scary, but he's there, and he isn't leaving them again... Neither will their friends, who are resting in the Nest as they adjust to the Hive, slowly feeling the same warmth and love he felt seep into them, bringing calm and peaceful bliss... It might take some time for the serum to sink in, the sweetness of the Hive, but he'll always be there for them...

[spandexual]

Shippy ask: who are your greatest hero/villain rivals to ever do it in a sentai

Insane (eh, only mildly) question: what's your most common "you sort of put my kink in this show but you did it WRONG so I'm just annoyed you came so close now"

Clothing advice: any advice for coordinating stuff in the bodysuit region to look like streetwear because I've seen a few people on the wild in them looking great lately and I would enjoy secretly feeling like a starship captain

I mean have you seen Gekiranger. Have You Guys Seen Gekiranger. I know you specifically have but You, Reading This, Have You Seen Gekiranger? Tiger vs. Lion, literally feral untamed wild child raised by pandas in the forest vs elegant arrogant ambitious little princeling with a simpering girlknight at his side, purity and fury vs corruption and bitterness... You Guys... Jan and Leo (and I'm not calling him fucking Rio he's a LION the same way no one calls Mele the CHAMELEON "Mere" despite that being what dumbshit John Toei wrote in the mook) are the absolute peak of sentai hero/villain ships. Actually I would say the peak of toku hero/villain ships entirely. gaijug is just below and then like thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis far underneath those two is like, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh actually idk, whatever KR hero/villain ship ppl have convinced themselves is peak ig. KR doesn't do very good hero/villain come to think of it. I guess it's because of all the main/secondary like how every sentai has its red/sixth (and usually red/blue too but I feel like that's not actually as common as ppl make it out to be, I think a lot of it is people just wanting an episode 1 ship)

Honestly, if my kinks show up in shows at all, they're often done perfectly bc people don't think they're sexual so don't have to pretend they're not (eg. The Stig being essentially a moto-drone like WOW) or the entire premise of the show is based around it (... like Super Sentai and Kamen Rider, even though the suits have not been as sexy as I'd like lately) lmao. I did get a bit annoyed at The Orville for giving Isaac (very sexy faceless kind of evil robot) a human appearance and emotions at first but the whole arc was his sexy milf doctor girlfriend going "ehhh actually I like you more when you're a sexy faceless kind of evil robot" which is incredibly based (as is the fact his sexy milf doctor girlfriend is The Sexy Outfit Wearer of the show a la Deanna Troi despite being a canon mother of a teenage boy and visibly middle-aged). ummm but I think all shows should have more crossdressing that isn't for jokes and more femdom or at least FLRs that aren't "bitch wife controls wimp man" coz like ew

Bodysuits are pretty easy to style casually! If you're talking more leotard style that are like a top with a crotch and no legs then a really sexy thing to do is wear low waisted bottoms so the skin on your hips is showing. Kind of like an advanced whaletail lol. Looks best if the bottoms are big baggy jeans/trackies or really slutty tiny pleated/otherwise voluminous miniskirts, I'd stay away from anything tight, small top big bottom energy yk. If you're talking about the full-body tight catsuit type, I think they're always gonna look a bit costumey, but you can still style them. Wearing a cropped/waist-length non-tight jacket over the top always looks super cool, look at 80s Rogue from X-Men! A floor-length coat would look cool too, rather than balancing the silhouette like with the baggy jeans or puffy jacket, it reduces the sex-costumey look by de-dramatising the silhouette by giving it a solid background. There's a lot of ways to play around! Bodysuits are essentially an inner layer the way tshirts and leggings used to be lol so you can honestly do whatever but I think if you want to be stylish you can't go wrong with the balancing act.

[autumn-foxfire]

Up to movie 22! I can't believe I'm almost at 23, the best DC movie. But I still have this one to get through first.

Of course Shinichi knows the record for the highest a drone can fly. The king of weird facts.

It's too early in the movie for you two to look pretty. Not fair.

We're starting off with a very violent explosion I see.

Or, Agasa, you should tecach the children to take turns like a normal person would.

Well that isn't good news for Amuro. If Ai noitced, you know that the BO did too. Is this going to have BO involvement?

The synopsis did say Kogoro was framed. I have to wonder how they managed to achieve that, however.

She deserves the world. Gosho, you should give her the world.

This episode shows you why the police aren't your friends. Also why is Ran calling Shinichi and NOT ERI. ONE OF THEM IS A LAYWER AND HER MOTHER.

This movie already is getting on my nerves.

Shinichi, Amuro has always been your adversary. He almost fucked up your plan with Akai for a personal grudge. He almost got Ai killed (someone you said you would protect with your life). I'm sorry, but I really hate how lightly Shinichi treats Amuro when other people have gotten his scorn for less actions.

Finally, Ran remembered her mother is a lawyer and went to her. Who she should have gone to first but we gotta push the bad romance~

Awww, thank you Agasa for reminding Shinichi not to take it out on Ai.

Ran, trust your mother's judgement. She is the lawyer. She knows what she's doing.

So Nasa is known as Nazu in DCMK.

Honestly, I think they should let Shinichi be more pissed off.

LMAO I do love Azusa shutting down Amuro's comment about being a good wife. She's not for it. She only cares about profits.

Shinichi, you should recognize the "I'm just going to the toilet" excuse for what it is. This is just embarrassing for you.

Does this man not change his suit?

Shinichi, why are you admitting your crimes to a police officer? Your lucky he won't do anything about it but what you just did was a crime that could get you in a lot of shit.

Shinichi isn't even bothering to be "shinichi" to tell the truth.

Ran don't get flustered about that. If Shinichi is a decent person, he would do this without any connection. Also Shinichi can you fucking NOT insult Ran. It's not playful when you do it to her because you're an ass to her and you genuinely do treat her like an idiot who doesn't deserve to know as much as you do.

Sorry, I'm just realising why I don't see many people talk about this film unlike the others.

Shinichi entered the matrix.

Pile ups are becoming common in Detective Conan movies.

Of course Ran is where the danger is. Can't have a movie without her being a damsel in distress who needs to be saved by Shinichi!

CAN WE FUCKING NOT. Sorry I'm throwing up because they're also making Eri a school girl whose blushing over being protected by Kogoro (who is also in danger but is calm because the men get to be cool).

I'm sure this tall place won't be in any danger at all. None at all :)

I wonder if these public security know that they're using children to fly a drone to "defend this country".

"I tried to ruin a family for my petty revenge." God this movie is fully of bad people, isn't it. Amuro and her would get on great though.

Imagine being a part of this evacuation though. You were told to go somewhere safe and then the police go "lol we made a mistake, this place is where the actual danger is".

Genuinely, I really hate the contrived danger they put Ran in so they can have Shinichi be all worried about her and not the thousands of other lives in danger as well.

Give a cheer for Amuro's car, the true MVP in this movie.

Fuck. Off.

Shinichi: Do you have a girlfriend, Amuro?

Amuro: Shinichi, I'm gay, just like you.

Shinichi: I'm what?

They're being very obnoxious with the "Ran"s this movie, aren't they.

LMAO I find it kind of funny how pushed the romance was this movie and they just showed the conclusion in the ending credits which was just Shinichi going "Oh, glad you're alright."