#training evaluation method

[whor3ing]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 | 𝐒.𝐑

― 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃

▶︎ ၊၊||၊ SO FAR SO GOOD , INHALER

dom!spencer reid x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut, dom!reid, analyzing you, fingering, riding his fingers while he works, cock-warming, riding, scientific talk

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝟏𝟖+

You’re whining again.

Spencer doesn’t look up from the screen. He’s deep in a case—some string of cold murders with strange time signatures and geographic triangulation—and you’re in his lap, completely naked, straddling one thigh like a pillow princess.

“Spencer,” you whisper, hands tugging at his shirt. “Spencer, please, I’m bored.”

“You said you’d be good,” he replies calmly, clicking through GPS coordinates. “Fifteen minutes ago. You lasted five.”

“I need you,” you murmur, grinding down just slightly on his thigh. “Just for a minute.”

“I’m working,” he says, tone clipped but not cruel. “Serial offender. Multi-state. Victimology inconsistencies. Hush.”

You pout, trying to kiss at his jaw. He dodges effortlessly, still reading. Still ignoring you.

So you whimper—soft, desperate.

He freezes.

And without looking, his right hand reaches down, cups between your thighs, and slides two fingers inside you in one swift, practiced motion.

You gasp—loud and sharp—and he finally glances over, arching an eyebrow like you’ve just interrupted a lecture.

“You’re soaked,” he says blandly, as if noting a weather report. “Completely saturated. Did whining actually get you off?”

“Spencer—” you try, but his fingers curl just right and you choke on a moan.

“I’m not stopping my work,” he says, thrusting slowly, methodically, like he's testing angles. “But clearly you need… containment.”

You squirm, hips rolling against his hand, desperate for more. He pumps his fingers lazily, detached. Detached, but devastatingly accurate.

“Pelvic tilt increasing,” he notes absently, eyes back on the case file. “Clenching hard, too. That’s involuntary. Your body’s responding to stimulation faster than average.”

“Please—more—”

“I said I’m working,” he says again, but you feel the slight edge in his voice now���the tension under the cool. “If you want something, you’re going to have to work for it.”

He withdraws his fingers—slick, wet, shining—and sucks them into his mouth, tasting, evaluating. You nearly whine at the sight.

Then he shifts back in the chair slightly, unbuckles his belt with one hand, still scrolling through photos with the other, and finally pulls his cock free—hard and leaking.

“Ride me,” he says simply. “Quietly. Don’t interrupt my train of thought.”

You scramble into position, your hands braced on his shoulders, and he doesn’t help—doesn’t even glance at you as you lower yourself onto his cock, inch by inch, your breath shaking with the stretch.

“You’re taking me well,” he murmurs, eyes still on the monitor. “Posterior wall pressure feels ideal. You’ve been craving this.”

Your body jolts as you bottom out. You’re full. Stuffed. And he’s acting like this is a peer-reviewed study.

You move. Slow at first, careful. Spencer barely reacts—just exhales through his nose as he taps on the keyboard.

“Your heart rate’s spiked. So has mine,” he says under his breath. “Fascinating.”

You grind harder. The friction unbearable. Your breath hitches, moans bubbling up—and he finally looks at you, eyes sharp and dark.

“You were told to be quiet.”

“But—Spencer—”

He shifts his hips up hard—one deep, brutal thrust—and you cry out.

“That,” he murmurs, tone clinical again, “was the anterior fornix. Your scream confirms the angle.”

You clench around him, hard. He hisses.

“You want me to lose control?” he asks, voice low now, dangerous. “You want me to ruin this chair and forget my case and fuck you like you’re the only thing I care about right now?”

You nod, frantic. “Yes—yes, please, I need—”

His hands clamp down on your hips. Tight.

“Then ride me like you mean it,” he growls. “Show me why you’re worth the interruption.”

You do.

You bounce on his cock like your life depends on it, rhythm breaking, breath ragged, tears threatening to spill from sheer overstimulation. Spencer watches you like a living experiment—eyes locked to your face, then your tits, then where you’re split open on him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Completely out of control. My cock’s buried in you, and all you can do is sob.”

You whimper, thighs shaking. “I’m close—I’m gonna—”

He reaches between your legs, pressing one precise circle to your clit, and you scream—body locking up as your orgasm hits like a truck.

“There,” he whispers. “There’s the involuntary tremor. Muscular contraction. Perfect.”

You’re still coming when he thrusts up hard again—once, twice—and spills inside you with a soft groan, warm and thick.

The office is dead silent except for the sound of your breath.

He strokes your back gently, still seated deep inside you.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod against his neck, boneless.

“Good,” he says, glancing back at the screen. “Now let me finish this report. And if you distract me again…”

His cock twitches inside you, wet and warm and perfectly coated with his come just as much as your own.

“…you’ll be riding me until I solve the case.”

𖧧 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

🖇 - @chriss-slutt @55sturn @chrysiie @il0vey0um0st @trustinsturniolos @ivydre4ms @raes-library @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pip4444chris @whore4mattsturniolo @sweetshuga @courta13 @divinesturn @aaliyahsturniolo @chris-hallelujah @mi-co-uk @ivysturnss @sweetpeabreezyree @christophersgf @bluestriips @angelic-sturniolos111 @shadowthesim237 @moond0llie @eeyoresturnz @ellssturn @fratbrochrisgf @teddystvrns @pvssychicken @ribbonlovergirl @chrisspussygang @vanteguccir @tits4matt @bambisturns @luvs4matt @delilahsturniolo @fadedstvrn @ariieeesworld @oopsiedaisydeer @rubyychriss @babyt0matoes @kenah-sturniolo @desturns <3

[hrtwayne]

Picture You | Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Physiotherapist!Reader

Summary: Where Leah ends up kissing the team's physiotherapist.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: Mention of flirting and a possible kiss!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

Leah, one of the most renowned defenders in English football, had just arrived at Arsenal's training center. After a relatively intense season with tougher training sessions, she began to feel a constant discomfort in her thigh. As usual, she decided to ignore the pain at first, believing it was just muscle fatigue. However, after a few more days of discomfort, it became unavoidable. Leah found herself heading to the physiotherapy room.

Y/n, a renowned physiotherapist known both nationally and internationally in the sports scene, was in the room finishing up with Alessia, who had complained of a slight ankle pain after stepping wrong during training.

"Lessi, don’t worry, your ankle isn’t swollen. Just apply a compress before bed and avoid straining it tomorrow," Y/n explained, applying gentle pressure to the area to relieve the tension.

Alessia nodded, trusting Y/n's advice, and soon left, leaving the physiotherapist alone in the room. Y/n began organizing her things, preparing to wrap up her workday.

It was at that moment that Leah appeared at the door, the pain in her thigh becoming harder to ignore. She had always found the way Y/n conducted her work intriguing. The physiotherapist was competent and extremely methodical, but also had a seriousness that intrigued Leah. Perhaps it was this combination of competence and coolness that made Leah throw out her cheap flirtations every chance she got.

"Good afternoon, doctor. Are you heading out already?" Leah asked, her tone slightly softer than usual.

Y/n, who was already facing away, organizing her work bag, took a deep breath before turning to face the player. Leah, with her usual relaxed posture, made Y/n feel something different—a mix of irritation and interest.

"Do you need something?" Y/n asked, her voice calm but with a hint of impatience.

"I’ve been feeling some discomfort in my thigh during training. I think you should take a look," Leah replied, a slight smile on her face.

"Alright, take a seat over there," Y/n said, pointing to the examination table while finishing organizing her materials.

Leah quickly obeyed, her heart beating a little faster than usual as she watched the physiotherapist approach. She lay down on the table, waiting for the evaluation to begin. Y/n, always focused, began lightly touching Leah’s thigh, trying to identify the source of the pain.

"Is this thigh pain something recurring?" Y/n asked, her analytical gaze fixed on the area as she applied gentle pressure.

Leah took a deep breath, feeling the cool, precise touch of the physiotherapist’s fingers on her warm skin. Her mind began to wander.

"It’s been a few days, but I thought it was just fatigue from training," Leah replied, trying not to get distracted by Y/n’s proximity.

Y/n’s touch was firm and professional, but something about the way her fingers moved over Leah’s skin made the defender’s body react in ways she didn’t expect. Each press, each calculated movement seemed to provoke more than just a physical response—something deeper was stirring within her.

"Does it hurt here?" Y/n asked, gently squeezing a specific part of Leah’s thigh.

"A little, but it’s bearable," Leah murmured, her eyes fixed on the physiotherapist’s, feeling a silent connection forming.

Y/n continued the examination, applying a cold gel to Leah’s thigh to reduce inflammation. She began massaging the area with precise movements while explaining the procedure.

"It seems to be due to muscle overload, probably from the accumulation of intense matches and training sessions. I’ll recommend a painkiller and cold compresses to reduce the pain, and, of course, some rest," Y/n said, but soon noticed that Leah was distracted, her eyes fixed on her.

You weren’t paying attention to what I said, were you?" Y/n asked, her voice carrying a mix of playfulness and seriousness.

Leah blinked, snapping back to reality, and smirked, not hiding her charm.

"I was listening, doctor, but... I can’t focus much when you’re this close," Leah replied, her tone bold.

Y/n shook her head, unable to hold back a small smile. She knew Leah had this provocative side, but she also knew there was something more behind that attitude.

"You need to be a bit more subtle when you look at me like that, you know?" Y/n said, maintaining her professional tone but with a glint in her eyes. "Even with your reputation for flirting with everyone, it doesn’t go unnoticed."

"So you noticed?" Leah replied, her smile widening. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Before Leah could process the response, Y/n took a step closer to the defender, her eyes now fixed on Leah’s lips. It was a sudden decision, perhaps driven by the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks. And then, Y/n took the initiative, pulling Leah into an intense and unexpected kiss.

Leah, caught off guard, quickly responded, her hands moving to hold Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was hungry, filled with repressed desire. The world around them disappeared for a few moments.When Y/n finally pulled away, both were breathless. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure.

"That shouldn’t have happened here," Y/n said, her voice slightly hoarse.Leah smiled, leaning forward.

"Well, if it can’t be here, we can continue outside," she suggested, a provocative glint in her eyes.

Y/n chuckled softly, shaking her head.

"We’ll see, Leah. Now go rest and follow my recommendations. And maybe... we’ll talk later... outside."

"So... outside?" Leah said, regaining her voice as she adjusted her posture, trying to appear calmer than she really was. Her eyes sparkled with subtle provocation.

Y/n, on the other hand, maintained the expression of someone still in control, though her slightly accelerated breathing betrayed her. She took a few steps back, gathering the remaining materials she would use to finish the session.

"Leah, this is work. I shouldn’t..." Y/n began, but the defender, with a mischievous smile, interrupted.

"I know. And I promise next time we’ll keep things in the right place," Leah said, winking. "But... I also know it’s not just work that makes you look at me like that."

Y/n sighed, finally allowing a small smile to escape. Leah was right, and although the moment wasn’t ideal, there was something undeniable between them—an attraction that had been building with every exchanged glance, every casual comment.

"Let’s focus on your recovery now," Y/n said, regaining her professional demeanor, but with a glint in her eyes that hinted this story was far from over. "And later... maybe we can talk about that 'outside.'"

Leah chuckled softly, lying back down as the physiotherapist applied the cold compress to her injured thigh. Even in that clinical environment, the tension between them lingered in the air, promising much more than just future consultations and treatments.

[alshamswelnahr]

besides tanjiro being a great representation of virtue hope duty and empathy he also represents the concept of remedy brilliantly whenever he comes across a wrongdoing or injustice his priority is to correct it followed by punishment that is aimed at bringing balance rather than seeking vengeance not only that but he treats each case on its own judges the demon as a whole and evaluates the degree of harm caused by said demon and exacts his justice accordingly to that and delivers it in a manner that ends violence rather than sparks it but most importantly he never holds their mistakes against them after he corrects them this is not only his method in dealing with demons but also how he treats the human characters

he scolds zenitsu for pestering that poor girl and for his cowardice the first time they meet cause he knows zenitsu is better than that he stops inouske from harming the latter and even breaks two ribs as a response to his violent behavior but once that is all sorted out he never brings it up again

the first time he meets genya he breaks his arm for what he did to kanata but he never mentions it in their next encounters or treats him like he is prone to harm others at any moment he treats kanao who broke his jaw and went after nezuko in the same way

you can say that he tries with obanai in the training arc putting aside the harm that the hashira caused him and even tries to maintain civility with sanemi he forgives the group that was being manipulated by enmu and gives them a chance and does the same for the train conductor telling inouske that being crushed under the train is enough of a punishment and after witnessing tengen's immature actions he still decides to see other parts of him and follow him the same applies to shinjuro whom he starts exchanging letters with after their unfortunate first encounter and muichiro whom he initially clashes with but soon sits and talks casually

in each of these instances tanjiro practices restorative justice he sees something that needs fixing steps in helps as much as he can delivers a suitable punishment then starts anew while this approach is easier said than done and is not flawless by far I do believe that for the most part it is the correct path to take and I love and appreciate that kny based its protagonist's concept of justice on it

[auraxins]

sprint-fic miniseries 05

prompt - train

tags: blade x gn!reader, sparring session, mentions of blood, tension

ik bladie sparring session isn't exactly the most innovative of ideas but idc mum said it was my turn to write the sword-fighting sexual tension smh LMFAO

��Again.” 

Blade’s voice echoes through the training ground. You huff and reset your stance, drawing your leg back and positioning your sword to strike. One step, two, lunge. The metal bites into the wicker dummy and sends splinters flying across the gravel. 

You look at your ad hoc coach expectantly. He steps around the figure with a glare sharper than the training sword you hold, narrowing his eyes at the site of impact. 

“Again.” 

“Again?” You repeat incredulously, throwing your arms out. “That was a good hit!” 

“One ‘good hit’ isn’t enough in a fight,” Blade says bluntly, prodding at where you’d sliced the dummy. A few more weaves of the wicker come undone under the pressure. “A ‘good hit’ can leave you wide open.” 

With a grimace, you turn your gaze straight to him, jabbing a thumb towards the dummy. “So, I have to keep slashing at this damn thing ‘til it breaks?” 

“Would you rather learn the hard way?” he asks. 

You don’t get the chance to respond before he’s drawn his own weapon, and you scramble to block the first blow he launches at you. Blade fights with a speed you can barely anticipate, and it takes everything you’ve got to even try to match up to his strikes. 

This is what you get for complaining about his training methods, you think as you duck below a high slash. An attempt to hit him back is parried effortlessly, and you take a few steps to the side in order to make some distance. 

“I think the easy way is fine,” you plead. He’s closed the gap immediately, sword meeting yours with a spray of sparks. “Shit, Blade– don’t kill me!” 

“You wanted to learn to fight,” he says simply, voice calm in spite of the ferocity of the attacks he throws your way. “So, we’re going to fight until you’ve learned.” 

Blade moves you around the training ground like you’re little more than a stray vegetable on a plate, and he seems to delight in toying with his meal. There’s a gleam behind his eyes with every single advance, and when he draws blood from your cheek he grins. He’s in his element on the battlefield, feeling that adrenaline surge through his reanimated veins. 

And oh so foolishly, you’ve become his latest victim. 

Your stamina doesn’t hold out for as long as you’d like, and air becomes harder to gulp down with every dodge and counter. If you want to stand any chance of making it out of this combat session alive, you need to think smart. 

There’s little give when it comes to Blade’s style of fighting; all erratic and almost thoughtless in nature. But you know that it’s rooted in decades of experience, to the point where his sword has become an extension of himself. His namesake holds for a reason- he is as much the weapon to be wielded as the sword that he holds. 

The only thing you can gauge is that he must be holding back. Because if he wasn’t, you’d be dead already. 

And then your legs are falling out from under you without warning. Blade has sheathed his weapon and yours has flown out of your grasp, clattering heavily against the gravel. It had taken one swift sweeping kick to fell you, and now you gasp as your breath is knocked from your lungs. Your back aches from hitting solid ground at full force, and your head spins as you evaluate your situation. 

He has you pinned down, knees either side of your waist and his hands locking your shoulders in place. In this position, the longer wisps of his hair drag against the side of your neck like feathers. You physically hold back the urge to shudder. 

“You think too much,” he tells you. “That’s why you lost.” 

His gaze pins you far more strongly than his hands. It is always intense, but to have it fixed so directly on you like this causes a searing heat to flood through your body. Something about it reminds you of an animal with their prey. 

“I won’t lose next time,” you declare. 

Blade seems to find this amusing, if the small sharp exhale he releases is any indication. In one fluid motion, he’s back on his feet and you’ve been pulled up with him. Your hands cling to his forearms to balance yourself from the movement, feet splayed out awkwardly. 

Once you’ve recovered, he pulls away and starts to walk off. You stand there breathless– and just the slightest touch weak-kneed– while you watch him go. 

“We’ll see about that,” he calls back to you. 

Aeons, you hope you get to. 

[doumadono]

A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration 💣

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.

[creature-wizard]

Thoughts on New Age’s therapeutic functions

Over the last few days, I’ve been thinking over how New Age practices have actual therapeutic value that ultimately contribute to more prosocial behavior and greater social cohesion. I figured I’d do a post on this, both to shed light on why New Age spirituality has such a powerful draw on people, and to highlight certain practices that could perhaps be adapted into a framework without the conspiratorial mythology and dangerous pseudoscience.

Full disclosure, I will be approaching this topic from the perspective of an atheistic-leaning agnostic who approaches magic and religion from a psychological and sociological point of view. I’m not here to try and convince you that gods and spirits absolutely don’t exist, but if you do believe they exist, you may find this challenging to your worldview.

So to begin, everyone’s psyches are essentially made up of different, yet interconnected parts. (I would recommend looking at this infographic for deeper, albeit somewhat simplified explanation. Note that post will be mainly be speaking of singlets.)

Let’s take a hypothetical person named Roxie. There’s a part of Roxie that wants to clean the house. There’s another part of Roxie that wants to play a video game. There’s part of Roxie that wants to destroy her enemies. There’s part of Roxie that wants everyone to be friends and live in harmony. There’s a part of Roxie that wants to surrender herself to a strong, powerful figure, and another part of her that wants to remain independent.

Our psyches are all made of different parts like this (though perhaps not all of the exact same parts), and our parts have their uses at different times and places. But it’s possible for some of us to become over-reliant on certain parts and use them in inappropriate times and places. For example, tradwives are taught to always use the part of themselves that wants to surrender to someone strong (usually referred to as their “feminine” or the “divine feminine”), which gets them stuck with extremely misogynist men.

Another example, which is more pertinent to the topic of this post, are people who become over-reliant on the part of themselves that wants to destroy their enemies. This makes them prone to paranoid thinking, essentially seeing enemies and threats everywhere. This in turn prompts them to behave in all kinds of ways that are detrimental to a healthy social life, and detrimental to a healthy society in general. This is basically the state that the kind of people who go around writing wildly hostile replies to absolutely milquetoast takes are in.

However, New Age’s practices and beliefs encourage people to get in touch with their prosocial parts and silence their hostile parts. For example, they are taught how to connect to spirit guides and various higher beings who have loving intentions and want the best for humanity. They are taught to practice discernment by asking themselves how information makes them feel – if it makes you feel afraid or discouraged, ignore it. If it makes you feel uplifted and encouraged, listen.

Now of course this is a terrible method for evaluating whether information is factual or not, which many people in this movement end up trying to do. “Aliens are going to arrive tomorrow and get rid of the world’s tyrants” might make me feel good, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. But it’s a very good method for connecting with and strengthening the parts of yourself with prosocial desires while training your mind to give less priority to your hostile parts and allowing them to weaken and fade.

Even the concept of starseeds is fundamentally a prosocial tool. Each starseed type represents a certain kind of positive role a person can play in society. When a person reads about starseed types and feels resonance with one or more of them, this is essentially a response from the parts of their brains that find these roles appealing. Starseed mythology validates their associated impulses by telling people that this the very thing they’re on Earth to do.

Past life regression hypnosis can also serve the same purpose, with those who undergo it often seeing themselves filling specific roles. When people undergo hypnosis and sees themselves as a priest or priestess, these are arguably images formed from the parts of themselves that want to fill the role of a teacher or guide. In this way, people become aware of the roles they want to fulfill, which empowers them to start doing something they actually enjoy.

Of course there there are flaws. The specific roles that New Agers learn about are not always as useful as they might seem – in fact, they’re sometimes dangerous. Many of the “cosmic truths” an aspiring teacher will go on to spread are just far right conspiracy theories. New Age’s mythology about reptilian aliens is a hodgepodge of antisemitic canards including but not limited to blood libel, economic manipulation, and media manipulation. Their mythology about aliens is largely based on pseudohistory created by white people who could not accept that people of color were capable of building architecture considered impressive by European standards. It all comes from what the New Agers would term a fear-based consciousness.

Meanwhile, the aspiring healer will likely learn alternative healing techniques that are not as useful as they might seem. Fortunately, most alternative healing practices favored by New Agers are fairly harmless in and of themselves (one cannot overdose and poison oneself with reiki, for example). But when coupled with a belief that these treatments should be used in place of conventional medicine (which is often driven by anti-pharma conspiracy theories), or when the practitioner charges so much money that people are compelled to choose between evidence-based medicine and alternative medicine and choose the latter, things can become deadly. Scientific studies have never found evidence to suggest that any alternative medical approach is more effective than current evidence-based treatments, even if people do anecdotally report feeling better or report the occasional miracle.

Furthermore, believing that the images they see under hypnosis are genuine memories of real past lives reinforces belief in conspiracy theories and pseudohistory. They also create a false sense of expertise and entitlement, such as a white person who believes they had a past life as a Native American ritual specialist believing they have authority to speak on matters of Native spirituality and history, and believing they have the right to conduct closed practices.

Yet all of these problems come from the belief system the practices are used in, not from the practices themselves. Outside of the belief system, the practices are a simple yet effective way to identify positive social roles we are likely to find satisfying. Without the conspiratorial, pseudohistorical, and pseudoscientific framework, one can identify more useful ways to fulfill these roles and seek out appropriate education.

I believe New Agers are onto something when they say that we have forgotten who we truly are. But I don’t think it has anything to do with some sort of transcendent divine nature or past lives. I think that through trauma and upbringing in societies that encourage fear and selfishness, we have been raised to forget that we are born to love, cherish, and help each other. I think we’ve also been raised to forget that we don’t need anyone’s permission to follow our hearts.

I think they’re even almost onto something when they say that our governments and economies are ruled by something that feeds on blood and fear. But that something isn’t extradimensional space lizards. It is the systems of government and economics themselves – they was created through fear and bloodshed, and they requires fear and bloodshed to continue existing. But there are no secret places where dark rituals are performed or where bodily fluids are extracted for consumption; only boardrooms where executives discuss moving production factories someplace with fewer safety regulations and politicians discuss manufacturing consent so that the populace will support the invasion of whichever country they wish to extract resources from this time. It is not reptilians that possess these people, but a fear-based belief that their safety and the safety of all they care about relies on these systems.

I fully believe that if things are going to get better, we must get better at loving each other and recognize that wanting to help each other is a natural and normal thing, and we should use whatever tools we have at our disposal to that end. But we must also recognize that the narratives and myths New Age spirituality has relied on this far are products of fear-based consciousness themselves, and cannot truly serve humanity in its progress.

[blah993]

BvZ Rant/Theory

Warning: To my knowledge this is NOT cannon.

But there is something to be said about how suspicious L.A.I seems(London Academy from the fourth episode flashbacks/static moment.)

Anyone else pick up odd vibes from them?

The letter that information came from seemed to indicate that due to a parental result that their child needed to be evaluated. (With probably more than the psych exam we were shown)

Perhaps looking for something hereditary and if so then for what exactly?

Potentially a privately funded experiment that may use a feature in a valid subject genetics to maybe trigger compliance and force obedience. Using a high profile boarding school as a cover and base for tests on children.(Adults with no children who graduate from the program could potentially become caretakers for future cycles.)

That seems to have a familiar sense to Sub Delta. When subjects were chosen with a specific trait in mind. (Also perhaps the Mafia but we don't have much on them.)

Since almost all records were destroyed with Earth, it would be curious if some recovered notes from The Academy projects were able to survive. Possible to inspire another slew of testing to help fill out research on partial notes and records.

It could be possible to have L.A.I inspire one or even multiple projects of inhumane nature to help "train" candidates.

Now if we infer that Karmor and or Crow was a part of that original project. The case could be made that they could've been a prototype to what would become other projects like Sub Delta.

Another small note and possibly would be due to only having a limited pool of subjects like the triad ,only using bastards, would stunt progress and give minimal successful cases. However, the Mafia having more selections of people would contribute to advance their methods beyond prior information.

I could be wrong but that's just my thoughts on it.

[3liza]

Methods: We performed a single-blind, randomized human experiment evaluating the effectiveness of five different regimens for the treatment of topical facial OC exposure. Forty-nine volunteer, adult law enforcement trainees were exposed to OC during a routine training exercise and were randomized to one of five treatment groups (aluminum hydroxide-magnesium hydroxide [Maalox], 2% lidocaine gel, baby shampoo, milk, or water). After initial self-decontamination with water, subjects rated their pain using a 10-cm visual analog scale (VAS) and then every 10 minutes, for a total of 60 minutes. Subjects were blinded to previous VAS recordings. A two-factor analysis of variance (ANOVA) (treatment, time) with repeated measures on one factor (time) was performed using a 1.3-cm difference as clinically significant. Results: Forty-four men and five women, with an average age of 24 years, participated in the study. There was a significant difference in pain with respect to time (p < 0.001), but no significant interaction between time and treatment (p > 0.05). There was no significant difference in pain between treatment groups (p > 0.05).

eliza comments: this supports the observation that pain-inducing chemical weapon response is primarily time- and somatically-mediated. eg, none of this stuff actually "works" and any effects are related to time making the chemicals degrade. observations that "i used milk and it helped" are a false observation based on the fact that sitting there and waiting for the chemicals to wear off was working anyway, so putting milk on your skin/eyes in the meantime was assumed to have "worked" when it wasn't actually doing anything (other than the skin reaction to cool liquid being felt as "soothing" superficially).

the action of being treated by friendly medics will always help with injury regardless of the injury, its one of the cornerstones of medicine. it's very important for street medics to present a caring, confident, and gentle attitude towards injured people. street medics aren't medical doctors (except when they are, i know dozens of actual EMTs and MDs and RNs who go to protests specifically to provide medical care) but the principles are the same

i'm still looking for the paper i found years ago about buffered saline. the study above notably does not try saline as a treatment.

[pollyharp]

I have made a part 2 (i’m sorry)

📓 TEAM INCIDENT LOG — Volume 2

Curated with despair by Lloyd Garmadon.

(“At this point, I’m not even mad. I’m just… impressed.”)

⸻

INCIDENT #0267

Who: Jay

What happened: Installed “mood lighting” in the bathroom. Forgot to ground the wiring.

Effect: The lights respond to EMOTIONS.

• Room turns red when someone’s mad.

• Bathroom mirror now displays compliments.

• Frank (wu’s lightning chicken) entered, and it whispered “the time draws near.”

Zane: “I will not be using the restroom until further notice.”

⸻

INCIDENT #0272

Who: Kai

What happened: Attempted a “super flip” over the waterfall. Wore a towel as a cape.

Outcome: Missed. Landed in the koi pond. Blamed physics.

Collateral damage:

• 1 traumatized koi.

• Lloyd’s dignity (he filmed it and laughed until he fell in too).

⸻

INCIDENT #0294

Who: Cole

What happened: Sleepwalked into the training room and accidentally performed Spinjitzu in his pajamas.

Damage: Created a 3am shockwave that knocked all the cereal off the shelf.

Quote: “…Did I dream-punch the rice puffs?”

Jay: “YES. They’re everywhere.”

⸻

INCIDENT #0321

Who: Nya

What happened: Installed an “Auto-Hydration Dispenser” to promote team health.

Unintended effect: It activated during stealth missions, and tried to hydrate them.

• Jay screamed.

• Zane short-circuited and recited poetry.

• Kai yelled “I’m being emotionally baptized!!”

⸻

INCIDENT #0333

Who: Lloyd

What happened: Attempted to prank Wu by putting ‘mystery glitter’ in his teacup.

Backfired: Wu drank it without noticing.

Later: Wu entered the meditation room, levitated three feet off the ground, and began glowing slightly.

Lloyd’s note:

“I think I made him stronger. I fear I have sinned.”

⸻

INCIDENT #0350

Who: Zane

What happened: Ran an “impartial evaluation” of the team’s teamwork skills.

Method: Built robotic duplicates of everyone and pitted them against the real team in a simulated battle arena.

Outcome:

• Robotic Jay tried to unionize.

• Robotic Kai caught fire.

• Robotic Cole hugged real Cole and called him “Dad.”

Final result: The robots won.

Zane’s report title: “Room for Improvement: A 78-Page Emotional Autopsy.”

[nights-legacy]

Please do!

Hi I was thinking if you could do aizawa having a sibling or daughter. Like a younger sister or daughter who he teaches and do some type of angst with them. Like him not paying much attention to her or she’s caught doing something (like smoking,drugs) or both. Something like that. Thank you 😊

Main Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

How Would You Know Anymore?! - Aizawa x Sister! Reader

1354 words + You're the younger sister of Shota and ended up being in his class. You weren't expecting any special treatment at all but Shota was acting like you didn't even exist or was on the verge of being too harsh. No inbetween. You eventually start to act out and threaten your own position in class 1-A. Quirk: Can temporarily cancel or stun someone's quirk by touching them. As you train, the amount of time the person is without their quirk is lengthened. Eventually, you'll be able to control how much time it is.

~

Y/N's POV

I was sitting at my desk, tapping my pen on the desktop. I was staring off into space while everyone was working on our English homework. A hand slammed down on top of mine, effectively stopping my tapping. I glanced to see it was Bakugou who wasn't even looking at me.

"Cut that out. It's annoying." He muttered while still working. I sighed and dropped my pen when he took his hand away.

"Y/N?" I looked up to see Hizashi looking up at me. He waved me up to his desk. I got up and walked up to him. I could see the concern in his eyes as he talked quietly. "What's up? You seem distracted. A lot lately."

"I've just a little out of it lately." I whispered.

"Do you know why?"

"Yeah. But I don't want to talk about it." I said.

"Would you want to talk about it with Shota?" I barely held back the scoff. I shook my head. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Fine. Head back to your desk."

"Yes sir."

Later, the class was out on the training field and Shota was giving some evaluations. He was going through everyone, giving detailed instructions, until he got to me last. He just gave me a look before speaking.

"Needs improvement." He said before walking away. I stared at him in shock before throwing my arms up in frustration.

"That's it?!" I yelled. He stopped and looked at me.

"Is there a problem?" He glared at me.

"Problem? Like you would know! For real!" I snapped. He didn't say anything and I scoffed. I turned and stormed towards the locker room.

"I haven't dismissed you!" He yelled.

"I don't give a fuck!" I replied without looking back. Knowing my brother, I knew he would use his capture weapon. I timed it and dodge rolled out of the way just in time and continued walking.

I got changed quickly and speed walked to my secret spot in the school. It was a small nook outside out of sight from prying eyes that I come to when I need to de-stress or wind down from the day. I plopped down and pulled out the hidden pack of cigarettes. I light one and take a drag. I will admit, my methods of de-stressing has changed drastically since school started. Since my brother started acting like I was that spot on the mirror you ignore until its absolutely annoying enough to clean.

I thought about the past few months. How things have changed and how this drift has come up between me and my brother. I cringed when I though about how disrespectful I've been to some of the teachers lately. I sat there for a while before a cough interrupted me.

"Shit." I looked up and saw Midnight with her arms crossed over her chest and a disappointed look on her face. "Hi, Midnight."

"Nezu's office. Now." She said firmly, holding out her hand. I set the carton of cigarettes in his hand.

"Yes ma'am." I put out the cigarette and walked towards Nezu's office. Midnight followed and explained everything to Nezu. I heard him call Shota and I internally groaned.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Y/N." Nezu said. I looked down ashamed. "Acting out, cussing out teachers, and now caught smoking on a strict no smoking campus."

"I'm sorry, sir." I said softly. The door burst open and I turned to see Shota.

"What's going on?" He asked with a stern look on his face.

"Aizawa, Y/N was caught smoking." Nezu said plainly.

"What? Y/N!" Shota turned to me with a mixture of emotions. "Are you serious?"

"What's the matter? You do it!" I snapped.

"Yes. But I am an adult. I also don't do it on school grounds. Y/N this is so unlike you."

"How would you know anymore?! It's not like you even pay attention anymore!" I glared. He paused and something flashed across his face. He turned and spoke to Nezu before looking at me.

"Come on. We're going home." He waved me on.

The trip home was silent. Inside it was ever worse. He went to the kitchen and grabbed two water bottles. He handed one to me. He sat down and sighed.

"What's going on?" He asked softly. I was surprised for a second but remembered who I was talking to. I sighed heavily and dropped down next to him.

"Ever since the Sports festival..." I started to explain. "You've basically been..." I trailed off.

"I've been..." He gently urged.

"You've been treating me like barely a blip on your radar. You barely treat me as an equal to the other students. I don't expect to be treated as your sister at school of course, but you don't even treat me like a worthy student."

"Y/N..." He sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees. He started rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Really?" I was surprised he apologized so quickly.

"Yeah. I got so in my head about being careful to not treat you with any favoritism as my little sister that I took it too far and didn't even treat you like my student." He looked at me. "The incident at the USJ struck me with the reality that you were doing this and I couldn't accept it."

"Shota. I'm okay."

"I know." He sat up straight and pulled me into his side. I hugged him and he rubbed my arm. "I just never thought as you were growing up that you would follow in my footsteps."

"Are you kidding me?" I looked up at him." You were and are my hero Shota. Of course I would follow in your footsteps."

"Well you are not going to get to if you keep acting like you have been at school. I'm pretty sure Nezu had half a mind to suspend or expel you. And I know it was partially my fault but it needs to Stop now."

"You're right." I sighed, setting my head on his shoulder. "I'll do better if you do better."

"Deal." He said as he held out his hand. I took his and shook it. We sat there for a few minutes.

"Shota?"

"Yeah."

"How am I really doing? You know in training?" I asked hesitantly.

"You are improving very well. Of course there are things you need to work on. Like your footwork. You need to find your rhythm. I can help of course but you may ask Ojiro or Iida for some advice too."

"Thanks." He nodded before he stood up. He walked into his room before going and grabbing something out of his work bag. He held up the pack of cigarettes Midnight confiscated from me and his own pack.

"We both quit?" He asked. I smiled and nodded.

"For sure." I got up. He tossed them into the trash. I hugged him.

"I am sorry Sis. Really." He hugged me back. "Although, you have detention for the next two weeks though." I groaned.

"That's fair."

"And you're grounded for 2 weeks too."

"Seriously?!" I pulled away and looked at him.

"Yes." He looked at me, daring me to challenge him. I sighed heavily.

"That's fair too, I guess."

"You may get a break if you're good." He said. "You can start by... I don't know. Making your shrimp tacos with that tomatillo sauce for supper."

"Shota!" I could see him hiding a smile. "Real smooth. You're lucky I love you."

"Love you too, sis.”

Tag List: @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @lilparcheesie @keigos-baby-bird @evilunicorns4minions

[malfiora]

Thinking about the character (Dick) and his boytoy (Jason) again. Today's topic: emotional maturity.

Or lack thereof. Anyway, I'm going to convince you that caring about age gaps is stupid with a simple example. Dick and Jason are canonically about 6 years apart in age (give or take a year based on how you calculate Jason's age due to his death and resurrection, but ultimately they were born about six years apart). However, when it comes to emotional maturity, that age gap shrinks.

From my non-expert, intro psych student, college student affairs practitioner perspective, I'm defining emotional maturity as the ability to (1) articulate your feelings, (2) understand the contributors to those feelings, and (3) identify and perform methods to self soothe. I deliberately make this definition values neutral — for example, self soothing can look like meditation, or it can look like alcohol dependence. Both of these, for all intents and purposes, are signs of emotional maturity.

Generally speaking: Jason displays emotional maturity at a level above what could be expected for his age (let's say 22 in current canon). He is often shown reflecting on not just his feelings but memories they are connected to and the ways his trauma has impacted him. He also devises meticulous ways to self soothe, ranging from cleaning his weapons to crafting a takeover of Gotham's criminal empire. Conversely, Dick exhibits emotional maturity that is lower than can be expected at his big age of 28 (in this example). He doesn't always connect what he's feeling to the stimulus that caused it, and when someone else tries to provoke reflection in him, he usually shuts it out. And I can't point to any consistent methods of self soothing.

So essentially, they're about the same age when it comes to this aspect. You'll note that I've been avoiding saying emotional intelligence. That term includes the ability to understand others' feelings (e.g. empathy, prediction, evaluation), and both of them show an aptitude for this, probably due to being trained to do so. It's just not very helpful to talk about.

I have posted a lot about Dick's development and maturity, but I rarely get to talk about Jason! (Or more accurately, I leave discourse about Jason's cognitive development to @glitter-stained who has a way better understanding of both psychology and Jason than I do.)

Let me know what you think, and if you have examples (or counterexamples) I'd love to see them.

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of Honey (Lucius x Geta)

Summary: Geta has to go behind Lucius’ back and it’s eating him alive. They start preparing for the first battle

Authors note: to be able to wrap this story up in a way it deserves, the next part will either be very long, or I'll split it into two parts. Thank you for reading!

Thirteen days later, Geta’s pov

"Any news?" his uncle Aelius asked as he stood next to him on the hill. They had traveled north to evaluate the troops of the Alemanni, with whom his uncle had made the arrangement to attack Rome.

Geta squinted against the bright sun, his eyes narrowing as he observed the training below. In front of them, groups of soldiers marched in formation, clad in their combat attire: gleaming armor and weapons at the ready. The air was filled with the sounds of disciplined practice. Heavy feet struck the earth in rhythmic steps, with clinking armor and the occasional rattle of shields. The soldiers were split into two groups—swordfighters and archers—each honing their craft for the day’s drills.

The archers stood further behind, their longbows ready to send a volley of arrows over the heads of the advancing soldiers. Their practice was methodical, and every shot seemed to land with pinpoint precision.

Geta did not know the precise size of the army of the Alemanni, but it had to be close to eighty thousand.

The commands of the centurions rang out across the field, harsh and commanding: “Archers, loose!” “Velites, ready your throws!” The entire field moved as one. It sent chills down Geta’s back. The harmony of it was impressive, even in the absence of real conflict.

Geta dipped his head slightly, eyes still fixed on the training below.

"Mmm," he muttered his reply, his chest tightening. He did have news—but it still felt like cutting his own wrists sharing any of it with his uncle.

Almost two weeks ago, Lucius had told him of his plans. It had been the morning after they had made love. Lucius had woken after him, his body warm from sleep, and rolled on top of him. He kissed Geta slowly, tenderly, as if savoring the last moments before the world outside intruded upon them. The kiss was soft at first, leisurely—until Lucius moved lower, his intentions clear. He had taken Geta into his mouth, slow and deliberate, and Geta found himself gasping like a man drowning. The sound Lucius made—desperate, warm, and consumed by need—had both comforted and unsettled him. There was a sacredness to it, a vulnerability they had never shared before and might never again.

In that moment, their guards were down, completely exposed to one another, both naked in the truest sense of the word. But this had resulted in Lucius sharing far too much, telling him of plans that Geta did not want to know anything about deep down, as it was sacrificing his safety.

Lucius was blinded, pouring out his heart without noticing the cold dread building in Geta’s chest. Or the way he had clenched his fists so tightly his nails left crescent marks in his palms, fighting the urge to scream, to beg Lucius to stop—to not place so much trust in him. But Lucius, caught in his own emotions, had not seen the storm brewing behind Geta’s eyes.

"What is it?" Aelius asked, his voice pulling Geta from his thoughts. He turned toward him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. "You seem lost in thought."

Geta thought of his little brother and took a deep breath. "He's planning to attack the border of Sirmium"—he named a distant city on the frontier—"with about twenty-thousand of his men." He cleared his throat, still staring ahead. "In about five weeks."

His uncle nodded slowly. "Interesting. How many men do you estimate his army currently holds in total?"

Geta lifted a shoulder. "I'm not certain of the exact number, but considerably more than that, as you might expect. At least one-hundred-fifty-thousand, spread across thirty or more legions. Though not all are solely under Lucius' command."

Aelius nodded. "I thought so."

Geta turned toward him. "What exactly are you trying to do? Surely your army, even combined with the Alemanni, is nowhere near large enough to overthrow Rome entirely."

"Of course not," Aelius said. "I merely seek to weaken it enough to gain an opening—to take control of the new Senate and the inner circles."

Geta dipped his chin, having assumed as much. A shiver ran through him as he considered what his uncle intended to do with Lucius. He needed a plan to keep Lucius safe—to keep him home, away from the battlefield.

His uncle squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you for the information, nephew. I will pass on the news and try to make arrangements for your brother’s timely release."

Geta held his uncle’s gaze. "Be honest with me, Aelius. What will it take for this to happen? How many victories on their side?"

His uncle furrowed his brow, scratching his jaw. "Hard to say.' He replied. "Let's see how this one plays out, and I will determine what can be done."

Geta shook his head in frustration. "It’s taking too long already. I cannot keep this up much longer—he knows I’m keeping secrets."

"I understand." His uncle uncrossed his arms. "Invite him to dinner at the end of the season to celebrate the last harvest on the island. By then, my soldiers will have joined the Alemanni army, and he will have no reason to suspect my invitations to you are anything more than familial obligations."

“This will be after the battle in Sirmium. He will not have much to celebrate by then.’

His uncle smiled faintly. “Invite him still, even if it’s a way to make him not think of me as a threat.’

Geta pressed his lips together, then gave a brief nod. The only reason Lucius had not thought of Geta’s uncle as a threat, was because he had not had any reason to. His mind was on other things.

As he made his way back to shore, his mind remained on Lucius. The more Lucius' army dwindled, the slimmer his chances of survival became. Geta needed a plan—and fast.

On his trip back overseas to the mainland, Geta went over every option.

The first was keeping Lucius home. But that would be nearly impossible. He would have to lock him inside his private chambers, which, with multiple entrances and windows, was hardly a viable solution. Not to mention, it would only delay the inevitable. Lucius would demand answers, and withholding the truth would only result in a complete loss of trust with minimal gain.

Perhaps he could force Lucius to stay by threatening to join the battle himself if Lucius refused. But Geta knew Lucius well—he would eventually relent. What had he been training him for otherwise? Which led to the second option: becoming Lucius’ personal protector, both on and off the battlefield. But if Geta died, the battle would rage on. Information would continue to pass from Laurentius to them until someone uncovered the truth, but without Geta to supply intelligence, Caracalla would be trapped forever.

The third option was to send Lucius somewhere far away, away from court and politics. But where? And how? Lucius was a man of honor and loyalty—he would never abandon his people. He would never leave with Geta without a just cause, and Geta couldn’t think of one.

The final option was to tell Lucius everything. This would inevitably result in Lucius hating him forever, and Caracalla’s freedom would become an impossibility. Lucius would never trust Geta again.

As the shore came into view, Geta sighed. All his options were terrible, each worse than the last. He decided to start with the first: try to convince Lucius to sit this one out. And if that failed, he would join him in battle.

When they reached land, Lucius was not waiting on the beach this time. Geta felt a pang of disappointment and scolded himself for it. Clearly, their intimate night together had not resolved everything. And considering Geta had remained withdrawn, he could hardly blame Lucius for being guarded.

Lucius knew Geta had been visiting family in Sardinia, but not why these trips had suddenly become so frequent. Nor had Geta ever mentioned an uncle before. He would have to follow Aelius’ advice and invite him on the next trip to quell suspicions.

That evening, Geta found Lucius in the dining hall and sat beside him. Lucius' eyes lit up, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, though there was a melancholy air about him.

"How was your visit?" Lucius asked, pouring Geta a cup of wine.

"Good," Geta replied with a weary smile. "My uncle asked me to invite you to the island for the harvest celebrations in September."

Lucius gave a slow nod. "Alright."

Geta studied him. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, I’m fine. But…" He scratched his jaw. "We lost a battle at Salona."

Geta frowned. That was not a location he had told his uncle about. He hadn’t even known Lucius was going there. It must have been Laurentius who intercepted the information and passed it along. Strange that his uncle hadn’t mentioned it.

"What happened?" Geta asked, genuinely curious.

"We had twice as many men. It seemed like an easy victory. Our troops were well-fed, well-rested… Then ten thousand Alamanni appeared out of nowhere. We were ambushed. Lost about six thousand men."

Geta cringed at the sorrow in Lucius' eyes, thinking of the horrors yet to come. His own breathing turned uneven and he wondered if Lucius noticed or if he was too lost in his own thoughts.

Lucius sighed and stared ahead. Then, absentmindedly, he reached for a curl of Geta’s hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. "Your hair has gotten so much lighter than when I first met you," he said softly. "Almost like wheat in the sun."

"It'll darken again in winter," Geta said, unable to meet his gaze. Lucius kept stroking his curls for a moment, attention fully on him. Then he dropped his hand in his lap.

They sat in silence, but Geta’s thoughts ran rampant. Traitor. Traitor. The word echoed in his mind. He hated himself more than ever.

When Lucius finally stood, Geta grabbed his hand, swallowing hard. "The next battle will be Sirmium, right?"

Lucius nodded.

Geta shook his head. "You're exhausted. Please, don't go."

Lucius frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You never get to rest. Stay here with me for the last days of summer. Let me take care of you. Your men have Mantius to lead them ahead."

"You know I can't do that, Geta."

"I hate having you gone all the time."

Lucius sighed. "I have a duty. I will not sit at home while my men die for me."

"Then I want to come with you."

Lucius shook his head. "You're not ready."

"I've been training for months. I can be useful."

"No."

"Yes." Geta clenched his jaw. "Either you train me properly for the next month, or I will enter battle without any preparation at all."

Lucius groaned. "You're staying home, or I'll send you to your uncle. I need you to be safe."

Geta almost laughed at the irony. "I will join, whether you want to or not. You either stay home with me, or you leave with me. You choose.’

Lucius opened his mouth, then closed it again. He squinted his eyes, clearly angry Geta was putting him in this position.

“We’ll talk about tomorrow.’ He said with a sigh.

The next day, Geta brought it up again. And the day after that, too. On the fifth day, Lucius grew so annoyed that he finally relented, but only after making Geta promise to stay back and close to him so he could keep an eye on him. Geta felt defeated at hearing that—it was the opposite of what he had been trying to achieve. This way, he would become a liability rather than a useful asset, unable to protect Lucius from harm. It all came down to Geta’s lack of experience, which he could only gain by going into battle and fighting in close combat.

The following week, they trained in the mountains. The air was thick with the lingering moisture of the previous night’s rain, and the end-of-summer foliage was heavy and dense. They fought intensely for several hours each day, and after a week, they finally swapped their practice swords for real ones.

"You're too slow," Lucius would say in frustration. "Watch your footwork!" And Geta would try and try, feeling Lucius’ anxiety for his fate grow. Geta already knew what Lucius would say at the end of their training sessions—that he was not ready yet. And Geta would have to agree. But still, he needed to find a way to go. Otherwise, he would eat himself alive staying back, knowing what awaited Lucius and his men.

As Geta walked through the halls one night toward his private sleeping chamber, he realized with unease that he hadn't seen Laurentius in weeks. A sense of dread crept over him as he wondered where he was and what was happening to him.

====

Two weeks later, they were preparing to leave for Sirmium. The ships were loaded with soldiers and supplies, yet an eerie quiet hung over them. There were no usual war cries, no misplaced humor to lighten the mood. It was as if they all sensed something was off.

The next day, they left port and set sail for open waters. Geta trembled with nervous anticipation. He had never seen battle up close, never killed a man. He could feel Lucius’ eyes on him at all times, filled with sorrow. It was as if Lucius was bracing himself for the worst. Geta couldn’t handle that expression and avoided him as much as possible, choosing instead to sit at the front of the ship and stare out over the waves, mentally preparing himself for the battles ahead.

Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. :) x Murphy

@potato1d-blog1, @nightingaleinnight

[justrandomfanficideas]

17-Shadowhunters

An Au where some downworlders and nephilims are closer to their instincts(angel/demon side) than others and can have quite...gory or scary courting methods.

Magnus Bane was known for having many people falling in love with him but had only ever been in two relationships(Camille and another that is up to the writers choice) as by rumours it is said he has high standards.

In truth, Magnus was very close to his demon/fallen angel instincts and his 'high standards' were simply too horrifying for others to the point that while he had been in two relationships, those he had been with hadn't completely been in agreement with how he was and he changed himself for them.

While Magnus knew that there were others like him, none of them seemed to fit him right so he had almost given up to find someone who understood him and could love him completely until one night, a shadowhunter came to his door with a creature's body that was still bleeding and dirtying the hallway.

He had been confused until said shadowhunter said he wished to court magnus and hoped that the creature that had been giving problems to warlock children would be a good first courting gift.

Magnus was surprised by this but was also moved by it as no one had given him such wonderful gift not even his best friend who while respecting his taste, kept way from it more often than not.

Of course that Magnus didn't simply accept immediately despite how enamoured by the gift he was, he demanded to know the shadowhunter's name and what made him wish to court Magnus

The shadowhunter presented himself as Alexander 'Alec' Lightwood, the new Head of New York's Institute and son of two people that most of the downworld in New York hated.

That almost made Magnus take a step back but he decided to keep listening as he knew that the children aren't always like their parents.

Alec then went on to say he had seen Magnus when he was a teen as the warlock came to take care of the wards of the Institute and Alec found him interesting so he decided to ask people about him but once seeing that most people told him what they believed to be the truth, Alec decided to investigate about Magnus himself.

He said he found himself being even more interested on him which didn't change as he grew up so he planned to court Magnus once he had reached the same level as Magnus in power(so yes, Alec would have more power inside the Clave then he did in canon).

Magnus found himself fascinated even more and decided to give Alec a chance to court him and see where it would lead.

Each of Alec's courting gifts were perfect, just bloody enough but with a good reason behind it, so Magnus couldn't wait for the last courting gift and if he would still be given such beautiful gifts once they got married(this all happened before Clary appeared).

But before Alec could prepare everything he needed to for the final courting gift, his siblings and Raj or other shadowhunter(because Alec while protective of his siblings, he won't be allowing them to do whatever they wish and walk all over him) brought a mundane to the Institute and runed her without knowing if she might actually have enough angel blood to take runes and instead of calling a warlock to save her.

Of course that he gave a very stern talk to the three shadowhunters and put them in ichor duty besides forcing them to take classes with the little kids seeing that didn't seem to understand what could have happened.

When Clary woke up, Alec was the one there and he put her down in her place when she started to make demands and explained to her how dangerous their world was and while they could take her commission to find her mother, if she wanted to help she would have to train like any other shadowhunter and only after a very throughout evaluation would she be allowed to help with missions.

Clary seemed to accept it after having some truths thrown to her face(like, she was raised mundane but she didn't care about how dangerous the shadowworld is? Like, people died, demons targeted people to kill or have sex with them, there were fights between different species, etc and she simply didn't care about it? I know she loved her mother but still, she should have taken a moment before bulldoze over everything and everyone) but unfortunately Jace and Izzy didn't seem to have listened to Alec and decided to take Clary to the Silent City and when she asked them if Alec let them, they said he did(which was a lie).

While it brought them the news that Clary parents were Valentine and Jocelyn and that her memories were taken by a warlock, Alec had been furious with his siblings and grounded them to their rooms with no permission to leave them as someone would take food to them.

Alec decided to talk again with Clary and ask if she wished to retrieve her memories, which may or not help her find her mother, before they started her training and Clary said that even if they didn't help her, it might give her information that may help her adjust to the shadowworld.

With that Alec called Magnus and told him about Clary to which the warlock told him everything he knew and that he needed to summon a demon to give back Clary's memories so Alec took Clary to Magnus were he had been having snacks with his friends(Ragnor, Catarina and Raphael) who agreed to help with the summoning of the demon.

When this was done, Alec brought Clary back and put her under the care and teaching of who had been Alec's own teacher(not Hodge) before he went back to planning things for his last gift to Magnus.

And said gift came to to his hands much earlier when Jace and Izzy were not grounded anymore and attracted Camille Belacourt's attention to certain mundane which she kidnapped.

Alec grounded his siblings again and went himself to get Simon back after reassuring Clary that he would bring him alive.

He talked with Raphael, who met him at the door, and told him that he would only punish Camille and leave the rest of the vampires out of wit which got him a raised eyebrow from Raphael but he let it go as most of the vampires hated Camille.

Alec retrieved Simon but had Raphael take him home before he started working on Magnus' last courting gift.

So the next night, Magnus found Alec at his door like the first time he appeared but instead of a creature's body, he held on his hand a still beating heart of a vampire and he knew immediately who it belonged to.

That night Magnus and Alec officially said their 'I love you's and created together their engagment rings.

How things would go from here? It's up to the writer but maybe have Magnus be the one to kill Valentine and gift his head or heart to Alec in front of the whole Clave just to see their reactions(especially if they had gotten married in secret with a very bloody ritual and no one knew until Magnus called Alexander his husband as he gave him his gift).

[stevenssacrab]

In Secret

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: For six months, you and Steve have hidden your relationship from everyone, but what happens when you come face to face with death?

Rating: 17+

Warnings: Sneaking around, hostage situation, kissing, reader has a near death experience

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: love a good ol’ Steve fic, never misses, I hope everyone enjoys this one, have a happy new year!!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Being Captain America’s significant other comes with an absurd amount of pressure; you have to be flawless, never make a single mistake, be a good role model for kids, and be just as if not more heroic, which is precisely why you’ve chosen to hide your relationship from everyone, fellow Avengers included. It wasn’t an easy decision, but you and Steve both decided that it would be for the best; you were new to the Avenger team and didn't want the added pressure of being with Steve; you and Steve somehow managed to have kept it hidden for six months, it didn’t come without its hardships though, Steve needed to keep up the appearance of a fearless leader, so he couldn’t be sweet on you when it came to training and performance evaluations; and you couldn't defend Steve when others complained about his methods, less they suspect anything between you two, much to your dismay Steve seemed to always have women after him, leading to a few disagreements about how Steve should handle the situation, you wanted Steve to be harsher when he turned them down, but Steve has a reputation to uphold, and being rude and dismissive was not a part of it.

"Okay, you leave first, and I'll join 5 minutes later," Steve said reassuringly, rubbing your arm gently and giving your hand a light squeeze.

"Okay, see you out there, Cap," you say playfully with a wink; you walk out of your room and down the hall into the conference room filled with fellow Avengers; your eyes scan for an empty seat.

"Y/N! Over here!" Wanda calls, waving her hand and patting the open spot between her and Natasha; you smile and briskly walk over.

"Did we start yet?" you asked, knowing the meeting can't start without Steve.

"No, just waiting for Steve," Natasha says matter of factly, doodling absentmindedly on a piece of paper.

"So, Natasha and I want to see that new movie that just came out. Do you wanna come?" Wanda asked, but you've already seen that movie with Steve earlier this week.

"I've already seen it," you said disheartened.

"HOW!? It's been out for two days?!" Wanda astonished. "It's honestly impressive how fast you watch these movies as they come out; who are you even seeing them with?" Wanda asked, peering at you suspiciously.

"Uh, my mom?" you voice with a rising inflection.

"Okay, this week's mission!" Steve calls out loudly, walking into the room before Wanda can question you further, "Our sources tell us Hydra is working on a new super soldier serum for a division of soldiers. Our mission is to stop them in their tracks." Steve says firmly, eyes landing on yours fleetingly.

"We'll go in groups of 3: Wanda, Clint, and Y/N in group one, group two is Me, Peter, and Scott, and the third and final group is Bucky, Sam, and Natasha.”

"We gotta hightail it; this is of great significance, so we move tonight, meet at the quin in an hour, we’ll discuss our plans of attack on the way," he says with a nod, marching out the room.

“Everyone’s here?” Steve asks, scanning the quin, ensuring everyone is accounted for, “Okay, as we fly over, group one will land on the south side of the building, my group will land east, group three lands west, and the quin will land in the north, the goal is to push toward the center where intel tells us the serums are located and try to catch anyone who may be running off with the serum, once secured everyone evacuate immediately and meet at the jet. Everyone clear?” He asks strictly, looking toward the teams, and they nod affirmatively.

“Okay, move out!” he shouts, rushing for his shield and jumping out of the plane; you land quietly outside the building, shed the parachute off, and get into position.

“Okay, on my mark, go!” Clint whispers harshly; the three of you move as a unit, sweeping every corner, taking quiet steps, instincts on high alert; as you move through the building, you can’t help this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach; something doesn’t feel right, you’re halfway through the building, and not a single enemy has been spotted.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” you say lowly over comms, hairs on the back of your neck standing straight.

“Let’s just keep moving so we can get out of here,” Clint says, readjusting his grip on his pistol while Wanda grows increasingly worried, palms becoming sweaty, the tension hanging in the air.

“Cap, you guys got anything on your end?” Clint asked over comms, his eyes scanning the suspiciously empty room.

“Nothing over here; keep your eyes peeled; everything about this feels wrong,” Captain uttered, uneasy hanging off every word; you signal you are going to have a look around at the team and break right; you creep into a dark room littered with papers, it looks like everyone just got up at left, you spot a computer playing footage on a loop, you walk up and watch, it’s your team landing outside.

“It's a trap! They know we're here!” You screamed over comms; you reached for your gun but felt something hard press against your back.

“Don't even think about it,” a deep voice said coldly as they pulled you against them roughly; you kept your hands in the air, your heart beating out of your chest; they ran their hands over your body, removing any possible weapon.

“What’s the plan now?” You ask coyly, looking over your shoulder slightly.

“Turn around!” He boomed, patience wearing thin; he pushed the gun against your head, “Walk,” he said, shoving you with the weapon, and you walked carefully toward the exit.

“Y/N, where are you?” Steve asks, trying not to sound as concerned as he is; you trudge toward the exit and swing it open

“Hiya, Captain,” you call, looking at him with pleading eyes. Steve’s face breaks your heart; it’s as if you told him the worst news of his life. The assailant grips you by your neck and pulls you close, holding the gun to your temple.

“What’s wrong, Captain? Cat got your tongue?” He said smugly. Steve said nothing, his eyes remaining planted on you as panic started to work its way across your chest, your hands clawing at the arm tightening around your neck, the assailant laughing at the way you struggle to breathe.

“I'll keep it brief and tell you what I want: a trade, the soldier for your newest recruit," he said arrogantly, walking you both closer to Steve

"Don't do it!" you say anxiously, looking at the team with all their weapons drawn and pointed in your direction; you shift your weight uncomfortably, trying to think of any possibility that doesn't end with you injured or dead, Steve looks back at the rest of the team and then back at you, time moves slow, your skin stings with the bite of the cold winter air, and you hear your blood rushing through your ears like crashing waves, when the assailant jerks suddenly, he fires a shot in the air.

"It's now or never, Captain!" He yells, shoving the gun aggressively into your temple; you close your eyes, accepting your demise, and you open your mouth to say something, but the sound of a gunshot cuts you off; your body tenses, and you wait for the pain, but it never comes, you finally open your eyes when you feel Steve's arms wrap around you, Steve's face is filled with concern, you see his mouth moving, but you don't hear anything, Steve grabs your arms and shakes you lightly, your hearing fades in.

"Y/N! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh my god," he blubbers, tears welling in his eyes; he pulls you in for a fiery kiss, holding you as you'd slip through his fingers; he pulls back slowly and looks deeply into your eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asks, panic having left his body; he glides his hands down your arms and holds your hands, interlacing your fingers.

"Yeah, I'm okay, just shaken up," you say reassuringly, pulling him into a hug. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent, losing yourself in the comforting aura that is Steve, and then you hear someone clear their throat; your eyes shoot open, landing on the whole team just staring at you and Steve; you jump back and hit Steve playfully on the chest.

"Steve, they saw us!" You whisper harshly and turn him around, hiding behind his big frame; he clears his throat and speaks

"Uh..." he mutters; he suddenly reaches behind himself and grabs your hand, pulling you next to him and wrapping his arm around your waist.

"We are dating." He said confidently, chin high; there was a long pause as the team looked around at each other, and then you heard a squeal; it was Wanda squealing with happiness, running towards you with a broad smile and open arms, she practically tackled you to the ground, squeezing the life out of you.

"Oh, Wanda, I can't breathe," you choke out, gently smacking her arms.

"Since when?" Sam asks, walking up to Steve and patting him proudly on the back.

"6 months ago," Steve says brightly with a smile, pulling you against him.

"I've known for four months," Natasha says cooly

"How?!" You and Steve say in unison, looking at each other. Natasha smirked and walked closer to you both, placing one hand on each of your shoulders.

"You guys should probably not fall asleep in each other's arms if you don't want anyone to find out." She says matter-of-factly, walking away and leaving you both stunned. "Congrats," she shouted back as she walked into the quinjet.

"Let's move out, team!" He shouts, grabbing your hand gently and walking you both onto the quinjet.

[valiantverses]

The Azrael Series: Chapter One

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader/ Slowburn/Sort of Enemies to Friends to Lovers)

°°°°°

Summary/Notes: Task Force 141 is assigned a new member to deal with Makarov for good. Highly-skilled, brutally efficient and devastatingly competent, Ghost has met his match - and finds himself at odds with the SAS Fraternization Regulations as getting to know you makes him re-evaluate a life he never thought to allow himself.

°°°°°

Chapter One

Introduction 1

@beansproutmafia @chinuneko @agustdpeach

Click.

Ghost watched you methodically assemble your rifle, noting how deliberate each movement was. You worked smoothly - barrel into receiver, scope in place, alignment done perfectly. He met your eyes as you surveyed the area, sliding in casings into the magazine with focused intensity.

Not sparing him another glance, you turned to look into your scope, securing the perimeter. Out on the craggy cliff face of the unforgivingly frigid Ural mountains, escape would not be easy. The only thing keeping you from being spotted was the taiga camouflage you wore and the relative cover of the copse of rocks you had climbed on to next to the lieutenant, chest pressed flat on to the rough ground as you settled yourself into a prone position.

"Alpha Two, in position and operational."

Your voice was clear through the coms, unhampered by the face coverings you wore even as your warm breath created soft puffs of vapour, swirling lazily into the air.

Next to you, Riley shifted, your sides touching as he took a final look over the perimeter and inconspicuously - attempting to, anyway - looked over your rifle to see your handiwork.

"Alpha Actual, in position and operational."

His voice reverberated through the rock you had both deemed fit to survey the target location - A laboratory nestled in a valley in the Ural mountains that served as a logistics facility for Makarov, protected by the mercenaries he hired.

"Copy, Alpha Squad. Bravo Squad getting into position, T-Minus 10. Maintain positions. Over."

"Copy." "Copy."

Twin voices rang out, and then there was a silence, a chasm between you and the lieutenant.

You did nothing to break it, comfortable in the stillness of the break of dawn, even as the lieutenant continued to sneak assessing looks at you.

Though your file spoke for itself, experience and skills clearly laid out for the entire team to peruse in black - admittedly mostly redacted - ink, it was another thing entirely to trust a new teammate to watch your back.

Station Chief Laswell had attempted to soothe the situation, utilizing lots of what you recognized to be CIA mediation training to make the mission seem like less of what it was.

But the message was clear to you immediately upon receiving team assignments.

Ghost was babysitting you.

It didn't matter, you decided. You were the unknown variable in a well-oiled machine that had been training together for months. A factor that could put the team at risk so long as they didn't know - or trust - you.

Acceptance would come. Or it wouldn't - you rarely found the kind of stability needed to forge lasting relationships in this lifestyle.

Hunching your shoulders as the wind picked up, you meticulously cleared each area of your assigned quadrant, catching sight of Sergeant McTavish as he came into the view of your scope on the southernmost side of the compound.

Sergeant McTavish - Soap, as he had insisted you called him - had given you the warmest reception by far. He had taken one look at you during introductions and had been not just welcoming but outright friendly, giving you a wide smile and offering to take you on a tour of the team's home base.

You watched as Soap glanced behind him, jerking his head in the direction of the building closest to him as another hooded figure sidled up by his side - Sergeant Garrick.

Sergeant Garrick did not have quite the same warmness as Soap, but his wary smile had seemed genuine, facial muscles pulling up in such a way that your deeply ingrained intelligence training had told you was free of deception. He had offered to spar, and said that he'd give you a lay of the land outside the base upon return from this mission.

That's about where any sense of welcome started and ended with the team, Laswell and Captain Price had kept you at arms length, a clipped sort of professionalism. Lieutenant Riley was an apathetic sort of distance, and you had the sense that he was on the look out for any of your weaknesses and would no doubt be more than glad to pull out the Personnel Transfer Forms in his desk that had barely ever seen the light of day if you failed to live up to expectations.

You kept your breathing low and steady, the high elevations making the air feel thin. Next to you, you felt the lieutenant shift.

"Our directive mandates recon and reaction only, no active engagement."

His eyes on you felt like an itching in the back of your throat, easy enough to ignore but always at the back of your mind.

"Yes, sir." You affirmed, laser focused on clearing the western perimeter of the compound. "I was there when the instructions were given."

There was a pregnant pause where you continued constant surveillance, not even looking up as in your peripheral vision the blazing nothingness of freshly fallen snow was obscured by the bone white of your lieutenant's skull mask.

"I could do without your attitude, sergean-"

He had leaned in close enough to you that you were able to reach behind him to his nape and pull him in your direction, sandwiching yourself between his bulky body and the rough stone below. Before he could pull away, you tightened your grip on his coat, indicating with your free hand to remain low on the ground.

It had been subtle, well hidden, but the glint of a sniper scope aimed in your general direction had you reacting immediately.

Slightly winded from the lieutenant's weight on you, you reached up and clicked on your coms link.

"Captain, Alpha Two reporting. Hostile sniper positively ID'ed in area of operations. Westernmost building, clear line of sight of Bravo Team. Requesting green light for engagement."

You began to relax your arm but were quickly pinned to place by a hefty elbow as Ghost grabbed you by the collar of your coat, growling into your ear.

"Alpha Two heard. Confirm, Alpha Actual?"

Price's voice rang out of the coms, to no response.

Ghost snarled at you, placing his other hand next to your head, effectively locking you into place.

"Fuckin' hell sergeant, never heard of an anti reflect? Nine times out of ten a sniper has a sunshade o-"

"East facing window on furthest building, two windows down from the top floor. Sunshades work by blocking out light reflections but only with direct sunlight. The snow is freshly fallen and we're south- they hadn't accounted for the reflection of the sun onto the snowbank behind us. Nobody would expect hostiles on a blank cliff face-"

He grunted, keeping his eyes trained on you even as he reached over to look into your scope, bodies still pressed tightly together.

"Alpha Actual, positive ID'ed hostile? Over"

The captain's message once again went unanswered.

You shifted your legs a little, freezing when his thighs squeezed your sides in warning as he surveyed the westernmost building, the brutalist architecture starker in the snow.

You spoke in low tones, trying to get him to see your point. The low oxygen environment forced you to conserve your time spent talking.

"They're deeper into the building and have partial cover because of the drainage. They'd have direct line of fire on Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant McTavish. It'd be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Alpha Actual, do you copy? Ghos-"

He huffed, the movement reverberating through you as he eased away from his position on top of you, falling into a low crouch behind the rock.

"Captain, hostile sniper ID'ed. West building, two windows from top. Clear line of sight on Bravo. Over."

There was another tense pause as the coms line grew silent, you taking the opportunity to roll over on to your stomach and keep watch on Soap and Garrick's position.

"Copy, Alpha Actual. Alpha Two, request to engage approved- Alpha Actual and Bravo Squad, maintain position."

"Copy, Alpha Two moving to position."

You wasted no time, disassembling your rifle in seconds, taking care not to let the snow into any openings as you turned to face your lieutenant and gave him a perfunctory nod, not waiting for his response as you left the relative safety of the rock formation.

The trek to the Southeast of the valley was arduous, the oxygen thin and the paths non-existent in the freshly fallen snow. Your lungs took in searingly cold air and your vision started to blur as the whiteness of the snow began to bleed into each other, the visor you wore being the only thing that kept you from snow blindness. Sometimes it became necessary to crawl on your hands and knees in the areas that were particularly visible to the valley down below. You did your best to keep your deep breaths from drowning out the coms, hearing Garrick and Mctavish's confirmation of identifying the sniper and entering an obscured alcove.

As you reached a copse of rocks that had the Western building in sight, you took off the gloves which the jagged rocks you had crawled on had embedded into and immediately began assembling your rifle, the familiarity of the metal body a comfort even in the frigid air.

You breathed in, then exhaled, before focusing on identifying the hostile sniper in front of you.

As your eyes began to adjust to the darkness of the empty room, a figure began to form, carved out of the inky blackness, partially hidden behind a mounted rifle.

The outside world stuttered to a stop. There was your breathing, low and calm. There was the enemy, looking up from their scope. There was your finger on the trigger, and then there was the the enemy's body jerking back, a bullet between his eyes as he slumped against the wall.

You waited.

You kept the corpse in sight of the crosshair, making sure the enemy's radio was within sight of you at all times.

Because if there was a sniper, then there would be a spotter, and it would just be a matter of who was more patient.

There was a flurry of movement as another person emerged out of the darkness and ran to their previous partners radio, stopping abruptly and collapsing as the insides of their skull became acquainted with the wall behind them.

"Captain, hostiles eliminated."

"Copy, Alpha Two. Bravo Squad, commence operation."

You kept your eyes trained on Soap and Garrick. You ensured they avoided engaging with the enemy, removing obstacles from their path before it could become a problem. Through the coms, you led them to the intelligence building and then back out, until they had successfully left the compound with Makarov's data in hand.

It was a perfect mission, and you could see by the pleased set of Garrick's shoulders, the twitch of Price' lips and the glint of Soap's eyes that the team really, really needed this win.

Evidently, not everyone was pleased with your performance.

Being the last one out of the chopper before debrief, you felt a hand on your shoulder, tugging you back until that familiar skull mask was in your vision once more.

"Liuetenant." You inclined your head, unsure of what he wanted.

"I don't like your attitude, sergeant."

"I don't need you to like me, sir. "

He remained silent, eyes boring into your own.

You regarded him, standing under the bright lights of the air hangar, mask and snow clothing so bright it almost made it hard to look at him. So you continued on.

"All I need is for you to know that on the field, I have your back."

Your lips quirked up as you managed a relaxed salute, muttering a 'sir' as you went to enter the debriefing room and began giving your report when everyone had gathered.

There was not a shred of doubt in your mind that the skull mask was trained on you the entire time.

[voidcrystalline]

Itzy Profiles

Writer's Note: Don't forget, people. There's a sexual themes tag on this for a reason. You opted IN to see shit like this, so calm yourself. It's not like this is real or even feasible. I don't want to hear about it. Unless you're going to ask me something dirty or make suggestions about who should be next. That, I do want to hear.

Subject Name: Chaeryeong

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject attempted escape, but her sight was hindered by tears and she ran directly into personnel.

Containment: Subject has not attempted escape since acquisition. During psych evaluations, she has expressed a belief that there is no point in trying, and has refused to so much as move for hours at a time when presented with extremely easy escape options. No special containment procedures necessary.

Features: Uncommonly strong lower body, exceptional physical dexterity and agility, quiet demeanor

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, medication for pre-existing condition (requires yearly renewal, free of charge in-office), mild bulking, very mild glute and thigh augmentation, no designer modifications 

Specialties: Humiliation, hotdogging

Designer Comments: While we don't normally disclose this, it is critical to note that this subject’s medication is a powerful antidepressant. If not properly renewed, she will become vegetative and nearly impossible to care for over the course of roughly two weeks. Properly maintained, subject is an excellent, low maintenance, and unerringly obedient slave with a rather unique figure. She will perform all tasks commanded of her to a high degree of skill, even under extreme duress (a state she is quite prone to experiencing). Subject is especially adept when it comes to physically demanding sexual activity, which is quite the entertaining contrast to her bashful nature. Subject has a sister who has worked in the idol industry as well and whose company has recently advised they will be seeking a buyer for her in the near future. Any buyer of this subject will be notified of relevant updates to that situation.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Yuna

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject attempted to seduce two separate personnel and requested assistance with escape from them. The attempts were unsuccessful.

Containment: Subject does not seem to possess the capacity for scheming to escape. Simple locks should suffice if standard containment is desired, but subject's escape attempts when guarded only by personnel have proven quite amusing and good for morale.

Features: Highly uncommon waist to hip ratio, noted exhibitionist tendencies

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, very mild glute augmentation, nerve wiring for oral pleasure, slightly increased lung capacity

Specialties: All forms oral sex, self-humiliation

Designer Comments: It is exceptionally rare for our slaves to present a desire for escape but then actively participate in their own containment and slave training. This has, to the great entertainment of Workshop personnel, been the case with this subject. Subject seems to believe that she is far more clever than she truly is, and that, given enough time, she will be able to escape containment using her sexual wiles. She is actually quite skilled at oral sex—her primary seduction method—and practices it regularly on provided sex toys, as well as by suggesting it to any personnel she can isolate (or sometimes in groups). Unfortunately for the subject, this is not enough. For added security, the subject's nerves have been modified, such that she experiences intense sexual pleasure in her tongue, lips, soft palate, cheeks, and throat, and has not been explicitly made aware of this modification. Subject has achieved such powerful orgasms during blowjobs as to lose bodily control, thus making escape significantly more difficult. She has also developed curious, physical eating habits as a result, which personnel have found exceptionally entertaining.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Lia

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject presented minimal resistance during the start of the acquisition, but upon observing the reactions of her group-mates, ceased resistance and encouraged the same from the others.

Containment: No special containment procedures necessary. Recommended to allow freedom into spaces with other slaves.

Features: Multilingual, noted nurturing tendencies

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, mild bulking, no designer modifications

Specialties: Slave pacification, potentially breeding

Designer Comments: Subject is a model slave, and the Workshop designer team agrees unanimously that she would be an ideal candidate for breeding. This is quite uncommon among former idol slaves. An addendum will be provided with the rest of the team's testimonials. Subject is caring and encouraging, but knows when it’s best to give others space. Potential buyers will be screened.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Yeji

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject offered some resistance to acquisition, but ceased upon threat of physical violence from personnel (personnel in question has been reprimanded for this unnecessary behavior and given further training).

Containment: No special containment procedures necessary. Simple locks should suffice.

Features: Uncommonly firm breasts, sharp facial features

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition

Specialties: Multiple penetration, same-sex interaction

Designer Comments: Subject is a physically unique and interesting specimen. Quite adept at a wide array of skills, she has proven to be a favorite of training staff, who have made numerous unusual requests for time with the subject outside of regular hours. Subject has displayed hesitations, but nonetheless continues to participate in these extracurriculars willingly. Though I have not personally supervised these, training staff have advised that her already admirable abilities are even more impressive in the informal environment. As for my own observations, I have noted that the subject is especially adept at sexually pleasing the same sex. Though I suspect such encounters may have been a regular occurrence pre-acquisition, her skill with the opposite sex has caused me to reconsider. If her buyer would be so inclined, I would be quite curious to see how this plays out over a greater period of time, and whether or not a clear pattern of preference emerges.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Ryujin

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject was highly resistant to acquisition and both caused and received mild injuries. Subject was calmed by her former group-mate, Lia, and acquisition continued without further incident.

Containment: Subject’s escape attempts are infrequent, but quite complex in nature when they occur. Advanced electronic locking mechanisms on all containment openings recommended. Highly skilled personnel recommended for rotating guard duty.

Features: Uncommonly strong lower body, tomboyish demeanor

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, mild bulking, very mild glute augmentation, elasticity increase, natural lubrication increase

Specialties: No notable sexual specialties. Subject continues to refuse active participation.

Designer Comments: Subject is a difficult slave with high resistance to authority. Though this resistance is not violent in nature, it has proven to be quite frustrating. Subject will refuse basic labor at random intervals, as well as all sexual commands, choosing most often to lie flat and not acknowledge the sexual activity at all, even when forced upon her. She will actively resist if caused pain or discomfort, so her vagina has been modified for extra elasticity and lubrication specifically to reduce this likelihood. Of course, if a more punishing sexual encounter is preferred, the subject's anus has not been afforded the same modification. Caution should be exercised when utilizing the subject's mouth. She has not actively attempted biting, but the possibility seems to be high.

☆☆☆

Breeding recommendation addendum:

The Workshop has a set of criteria which must be met for our designer team to make a recommendation for a slave to be bred. While, of course, the decision is ultimately up to the buyer, we pride ourselves on making the recommendation sparingly, and only in the most ideal scenarios.

A candidate for breeding must meet the following criteria.

Submission: The subject must not exhibit any defiant tendencies whatsoever post-acquisition.

Affection: The subject must express desire for affection for their potential buyers, sight unseen.

Health: The subject must be checked, physically and mentally, and given a clean bill of health (including for fertility) by no fewer than three medical professionals.

Willingness: To avoid danger of self-harm or attempted pregnancy termination, the subject must have at least displayed willingness to produce offspring.

Many clients have indicated that appearance should be accounted for in a breeding candidate, but at the Workshop, we do not presume to know the tastes of our clients in advance. We can advise on matters of appearance if asked directly, but only after a preference questionnaire has been provided.

Regarding Subject Lia's candidacy for breeding, excepting confirmations of the above criteria, here are some of our other designers’ comments, transcribed from audio:

“She's wonderful! Her smile warms the heart! She’s even offered me assistance with my duties on several occasions without prompting! Lovely, lovely girl, this one.” - Dsgn. Flame

“I cannot recommend her any more highly. She is very sweet, and I just hope she finds a good home.” - Dsgn. Stone

“For quite some time, I watched the subject closely, suspecting that she was trying to fool [my colleagues] into complacency in order to escape. But I orchestrated an escape myself, and once she was off-grounds, the subject injured herself in the attempt to break free and to run back to the facility. Never in my career have I seen such behavior. I can say with certainty that Lia will be exceptionally dedicated.” - Dsgn. Deep