#ᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ✻ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᶤᵗ ᵗʳᶤᵖˡᵉ

[killthebxy]

squided‌:

tlitookilakin‌:

engineer-pearl0‌:

tastefullyoffensive‌:

“Not use collective punishment as it is not fair on the many people who did nothing and under the 1949 Geneva Conventions it is a war crime.”

Wait it’s a fucking WAR CRIME?!?! I mean that might not be 100% accurate but now I gotta know

holy crap, collective punishment is a war crime.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fourth_Geneva_Convention#Collective_punishments

and according to the exact legal phrasing-

No protected person may be punished for an offense he or she has not personally committed. Collective penalties and likewise all measures of intimidation or of terrorism are prohibited.

This technically counts, as students are civilians, and thus considered a “protected person”. So yes, collective classroom punishment breaks the fourth Geneva Convention, and she should be rewarded for standing up for human rights and doing her research.

Power-move: accuse your teacher of a war crime using knowledge they supplied you with

--- @stcrmswithskin​ ---

[killthebxy]

send ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ for a randomly generated outcome (alternatively, send it + reversed) // accepting 22. Arelia finds Jon with a black eye, ft. @timeripe

          don’t ask him how he managed this; such a prodigy, such talent for the most unexpected outcome that could have been featured in any circus. as many of mankind’s worst records, this one also began with a good intention at heart... namely, to take advantage of this weekend that Pan and Alana are spending over with aunt Sansa (and no doubt returning with a ton of new accessories and clothes, each), and put some order in the house. perfectly harmless, right? all the more when this angel that is Arelia offered to join in and come help? or it was, until the dreaded moment he decided it would be a smart idea to clean the books at the very top shelf on his own, rather than waiting for his friend to be back from grocery shopping.

          and, yes, although Jon himself is nowhere near vertically favored --- the shelf is a tall one, a big thing in vintage style that will probably outlive the entire country --- which means he was required to climb on a chair for it. again, nothing to be out of the ordinary... until the aforementioned shelf grew out of balance and the books fell over one by one. and it could have ended here but, of course, it didn’t --- with his luck, why would it? so, by the time he was safely down and collecting everything, actually congratulating himself on walking out of that unscathed --- that’s when one final book had the audacity to hop off and fall on his shoulder. and then... when glancing back up to assess the damage, that’s when the final, final book also slipped off and SMACKED him right on the face; literally on the face, like in the best comedy movies. and not a carefree magazine, not even one of Lily’s little tale books... rather, a thick volume that didn’t knock him out by miracle, and note taken to never again put the encyclopedia volumes on the top shelf.

          which, in turn, all of this now explains why, as Arelia walks back in with bags of food, he’s sitting in defeat on the couch with a mess of books everywhere --- holding a bag of ice to his eye that is quickly bruising and even more quickly growing swollen. that and having to hold back his laughter when seeing her bewildered expression. ‘ ...first of all, i am okay. and i promise there is a logical explanation for this. ‘

[killthebxy]

send ‘pain is weakness leaving the body’ for a randomly generated outcome (alternatively, send it + reversed) // accepting 16. Jon finds Arelia after running into a door, ft. @timeripe

          arguably, social events tend to be the most difficult times of one’s professional life --- or, at least, Jon humbly thinks so. give him papers to write and it will be no hassle, give him children to teach and, hey, that’s what he lives for --- yet, when it comes to silly things like the holidays dinner or the celebration of the place’s anniversary or what have you, he does skip out whenever he’s got the chance to. one, his three children back home will not raise themselves and, two, most of these are frequently little more than a socially acceptable excuse to get drunk and do things you’ll REGRET in the morning, and then be unable to look your coworkers in the eye for a month. no, thank you very much.

          hence the look of sympathy on his face when bidding farewell to his friend a few hours ago, and the look of sympathy to greet her with as she stumbles back in --- quite literally stumbles. then again, if there is anyone at all who deserves this sort of break and to completely unwind for a night, it is certainly Arelia... and Jon is about to pause his work and go over to the lounge to meet her, yet clearly isn’t fast enough. because, next thing he knows, she is coming over to his home office instead, only to miscalculate the distance and all but walk right into the door frame. and now he does jump up immediately, in a mix of concern and that very childish impulse to laugh whenever this sort of mishap occurs, and is swift to gather her in his arms to bring closer and attempt to steady her a bit more.

‘ are you all right...? why didn’t you call, i would have gone to get you! ‘

[killthebxy]

"Please, for both of us, if I EVER refer to you as 'daddy', just assume the littlest one is around."

--- @timeripe ---

‘ …….why did you have to make it AWKWARD, Arelia. ‘

[killthebxy]

send 😘🍺 to drunkenly kiss Jon Snow; platonic smooches also accepted (not accepting) // @rebxrnbyfire

          sleepovers are always a paradox; undeniably, greatly enjoying the chance to have peace and quiet for a night and the opportunity to focus on himself --- but, at the same time, having the little, silent but insistent tug at his heart, making him wonder if the girls are well and if they’re having fun and if they ate properly and will go to bed at decent hours. not with Lily, though, never with Lily; Lily stays ever under his watchful eye, and she’ll have plenty of time when she’s older to go on this sort of adventures. and if anybody is going to accuse him of being a father-hen and needing to chill, then, yes, he’s going to gladly own up to it and do NOTHING to change his ways. it’s as simple and as complicated as this.

          for a few good months now, though, sleepovers don’t truly mean a mostly empty house and for Jon to be left alone with ghosts of his past and his thoughts, only; there’s a more-or-less permanent guest and one he welcomes with open arms, for it happens to be no other than his twin. and while, yes, it’s also true that Jae can easily turn into his fourth child more often than not, it’s still something he would not trade for the world --- big brothers ever have the protector role to play out, after all, even when there is only a few minutes separating their birth times.

          on the other hand, there’s the extra challenge that comes with the agreement they have made unquestionable ---an actual dogma, really--- from the start: no matter what, there will be no vices anywhere near the girls at all. which, as its counterpart, means that he’s lenient enough towards his twin to allow him a break whenever Alice and Pan are not around, as is the case presently; well aware that Jae has just as many demons of his own to cope with, and that doing so with a completely sober mind isn’t always a battle that can be won. therefore, when his grading of tests and essays gets interrupted by a very unexpected, very affectionate, very sloppy kiss to the cheek, he can’t help but laugh.

‘ what do you want? i know that KICKED PUPPY face. ‘

[killthebxy]

single dad : 🍸+ " you're wearing a wedding ring... does she make you happy? " ( single dad )

send 🍸+ a question and Jon will answer after a bottle of whiskey(accepting) // @zcldrizes

          was this a huge mistake? to agree to this sort of informal meeting after dinner, for the sake of setting their matters straight without the risk of the girls eavesdropping? as if such a mess can be untangled to start with and let alone during a couple hours only… but the first step is always the most difficult, or at least Jon wants to believe so. because he’s been desperately craving CLOSURE for years now, if nothing else, and because… there is a very tiny bit of childlike hope still burning within; that, by arts of magic, one day he will wake up and all of this will have been but a bad dream. that everything will once again be as perfect as it once was.

          and perhaps this is the actual mistake… this mindset. this hope, this craving, this foolishness, call it what you will. he’d very much lost hope of ever hearing from her again, and yet here she is now — sitting right in front of him, and all it takes is to reach over to touch her hand with his. she looks different, so different, as Jon is certain he does himself, but he looks at her and sees still the same; he sees his high school sweetheart, he sees the girl he so nervously asked to prom, he sees the young woman he took for his wife, he sees the mother of his daughters. and he sees her back turned to him, hasting out of that door and ABANDONING everything behind…

          which, he believes, is justification enough for the speed with which he’s been draining glass after glass; this storm of conflicting sentiments in him, and lacking art and skill to make anything productive at all out of them. general rule of thumb, Jon never indulges so carelessly, needless to say when handling something as potentially disastrous as whiskey — every and any sort of vice is prohibited within the house, to himself and to whoever may visit. but resilience fails him tonight, as does stoicism… and thus he presses the cold rim to his lips once more, resigned to accept whatever poor choices might ensue. what does he have left to lose when it comes to her, anyway?

          but he finds himself suddenly sipping slower than intended, and then allowing the bitter liquid to linger in his mouth — as he listens to Daenerys’ remark. it’s a joke, right? she’s asking about the wedding band, knowing fully well it’s still the same one? she must know, right…? on second thought, maybe staying sober could have been more in his best interest… but no use crying over spilled milk, now. or spilled whiskey, whatever. what he’s got going for him at the moment is UNFILTERED HONESTY, and that’s the card he’ll play therefore. ‘ she did, while she was still ‘round. ‘ which, again, should be obvious enough — but he does put the glass down after emptying it yet once more, and he removes the ring and passes it over to her — so that she can read the date engraved in its inner part by herself.

[killthebxy]

“Your will, my hands.” 👀

Spartacus starters (accepting) // @epheemere

          let it be said, he’s been resisting quite bravely — not because she lacks allure in every shape, color, or form, but because he’s stubborn as a mule and too much of a perfectionist for his own good; because he vowed to finish grading these tests before the night is over, and it’s already well past midnight and there’s still eight of them left. but all the kids are out in the respective friend’s house, save for darling Lily at this point well snuggled in bed with a plush doll bigger than herself… and Ari knows what weapons to use to win this war, no doubt. so much so that, now that she’s all but perched herself on his lap and removed his glasses while leaning in to leave such half-whispered words by his ear, that’s all it takes. that’s the point of no return and his own arms are quick to wrap around her slender waist, holding her even closer till their chests press into one another.

‘ you are IMPOSSIBLE… ‘

[killthebxy]

[ feed ] your muse feeding mine something , feel free to specify what . (pretend it's spaghetti sauce SHE made that's actually NOT horrible and the kids are like WATCH OUT IT'S POISONED)

non-sexual acts of dominance (accepting) // @epheemere[ feed ]  Ari feeding Jon spaghetti sauce

          at least it’s not ramen, which he already counts as progress — and she’s putting clear effort in, which means he won’t have the heart to refuse it. not that the girls would let him, anyway. he’s the first one telling them to be patient because, yes, one of these days Ariella will get the hang of it and make scrambled eggs that do not look like a stuffed duck run over by a firetruck. or soup that does not look like a swamp of quicksand. or… tea that does not look like leaves soaked in a demon’s tears. anyway. trying his best to keep a smile, more or less firm, Jon accepts his fate and parts lips, letting her feed him — chewing for a couple long seconds, and finally swallowing with a bit of effort.

‘ it’s, huh— it’s IMPRESSIVE! ‘

[killthebxy]

" you aren't allowed to be away for so long again. "

//@timeripe

          ‘ is it? ‘ and he can’t help but offer her a soft chuckle, glancing over that shoulder as he grabs the mug of steamy coffee. ‘ and who’s gonna do my job for me and go to the next symposium, then? YOU? ‘

[killthebxy]

[ instruct ]

non-sexual acts of dominance (accepting) // @impiae[ instruct ] Ravenna giving Jon instructions

          if nothing else, he’s PROUD to say he’s not as bad at cooking as stereotypically expected from a white guy in his early thirties raising three girls on his own — there’s always veggies and fruit in the fridge, and he tries his absolute best to keep processed crap and junk down to the minimally acceptable. granted, it is a struggle when the three of them start chanting for McDonald’s, but Jon endures the best he can. there is one particular recipe, however, that keeps eluding him and that he can’t get right for his life… not the healthiest one, admittedly, but he knows his daughters love PUDDING and it makes for a good sunday dessert, after a long week of work and school and daycare and general adventures. thank the heavens for Ravenna therefore, who so kindly found some free time to put up with his ineptitude this fine morning so that the girls can wake up to a nice surprise — literally, guiding him step by step through the whole process. wrinkling his nose at the sweet smell of sugar starting to melt into caramel, Jon keeps his focus no less and peers into the pot, stirring it incessantly.

‘ please tell me i haven’t ruined it already… i swear i’ll toss the whole thing in the trash this time. ‘

[killthebxy]

[ swat ] your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch // the stew tbh, leave it alone it's fine

non-sexual acts of dominance (accepting) // @timeripe[ swat ] Arelia swatting Jon’s hand away from the stew  

          she walks in and takes over the kitchen like this, and he cannot even tell her off because (1) she’s an angel and (2) she’s here to help and save his life anyway — with a paper due tomorrow at 23:59 and still discussion, conclusion, and abstract to write, Jon cannot afford to spend time by the stove no matter how much he enjoys it. still, he’s going to whine about not being allowed to taste the stew and make sure it’s at that very perfect, near ephemeral blend of salt and other spices that the girls always demand — and hence the pout that is now adorning the face of a responsible gentleman in his early thirties, subconsciously hoping it’s going to make her cave and stop guarding the pot like a dragon would a cauldron of gold.

‘ i just wanted to try a little bit! ‘

[killthebxy]

concept: arelia sending jon a video while he's at work; it's lily, furiously swiping at a red mark on her forehead while looking in the mirror; the caption says: she recognized herself <3

// @timeripe

          no phones in the classroom — and he must be the one setting the example, which means he only gets to see this message pretty much at the end of the day; the all too familiar STRUGGLE of carrying to the car a pile of books, his backpack, the laptop, tests to grade, god knows what else sometimes. a car that shall soon be filled up further, as it is shopping day — healthy food, not so healthy food, cleaning supplies, a book for each of the girls and also a little something else, at least three big bags of food for Ghost. this car really is a hero without a cape, and if one day it breaks down Jon has no doubt it’s going straight to car heaven for its sacrifices. and yet, before any of that… before even he’s done storing his pencils in the case, he happens to check the phone and opens Arelia’s window first —that little (…maybe not so little) PARANOID part of his always worried something happened to his angels—, only to be met with the most adorable thing he’s seen all week, and it’s only monday. unable to hold back the widest of smiles, he texts back after watching it some good ten times.

[text]: despite everything… how am i so lucky?

[killthebxy-archive]

// @seesgood

          to talk with journalists, now this had to be something new. it wasn’t like Jon had trouble with public speaking, having plenty experience at it from years of participating in conferences && symposiums and, of course, being a teacher. still, this was different from all the rest, and he didn’t really know what to expect. just answer the questions and explain a bit about our projects, the school director had instructed... guess he could do that, then. making his way out of the staff room && over to the one classroom reserved, that afternoon, for the meeting, a couple relevant books and pamphlets secured under his arm, Jon walked inside and offered a smile to the young woman already in there.

‘ Miss Forbes? hope you weren’t WAITING for too long --- i’m Jon Stark, so nice to meet you. ‘

[killthebxy-archive]

single father verse // @epheemere

‘ all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. ‘

[killthebxy-archive]

@harlequiinade // cont.’d

          if a glare could kill, that laptop would have already been turned to scrap metal at least five times in the past hour. to be fair, it was not the device’s fault... it was nothing if not helpful, when it came to any sort of work. still, with fatigue piling up more and more, it was pretty much impossible to not just roll his eyes and want to punch the desk at the smallest of hindrances. which was, precisely, why Jon had secluded himself in the office for the night, and left his princesses under the care of his most trusted ally. the least his mood needed to plummet even further was to snap at any of them out of exhaustion and frustration, and then regret it at least for a month.

          not that the task at hand was anything surreal, or even anything he’d not done before. writing papers for the university’s research department was his second skin by now, as much as the art of teaching in itself. with so much to do and such tight deadlines, though, juggling all of it while maintaining his sanity could be a trial, every now and then. today was one of those days, and, no matter what sort of statistical analysis he tried, there seemed to be, simply, no way to have those results turn into something he’d hoped for. which meant, he might have to go and redo the whole protocol yet again, for the third time... jesus christ. so focused he’d been, then, that he’d not even noticed someone approaching, and almost jumped in place when a pair of gentle hands came to find his stiff shoulders.

‘ ...Harley. ‘

          heart still beating a little too fast in his chest, he now couldn’t help but fondly smile at the words of care being given. amidst all that rush for achievements and what not, sometimes, it was far too easy to forget that the truly important things in life were still free and free from trouble. he answered with a nod of his head, then, actual soft chuckling following the little peck to his cheek, and pulled his glasses away with a sigh of relief. god, he was going to end up half-blind for good, at that rate... maybe looking away from the screen for an hour or two was, in fact, in his best interest. all the more when their nanny announced what was going on with dinner, and caused him to promptly check the time on his wrist watch.

‘ ...oh, wow. i didn’t even notice it’s this late already... please tell me you did eat and are not waiting for me? ‘

[killthebxy-archive]

single father verse // @timeripe

‘ courage is found in unlikely places. ‘