#Project-based Delegation

[asrarblog]

Delegation – The Key Part of Management 2 – Asrar Qureshi’s Blog Post #1070

[reasonsforhope]

"As climate disasters strain state budgets, a growing number of lawmakers want fossil fuel companies to pay for damages caused by their greenhouse gas emissions.

Last May [2024], Vermont became the first state to pass a climate Superfund law. The concept is modeled after the 1980 federal Superfund law, which holds companies responsible for the costs of cleaning up their hazardous waste spills. The state-level climate version requires major oil and gas companies to pay for climate-related disaster and adaptation costs, based on their share of global greenhouse gas emissions over the past few decades. Vermont’s law passed after the state experienced torrential flooding in 2023. In December [2024], New York became the second state to pass such a law. 

This year, 11 states, from California to Maine, have introduced their own climate Superfund bills. Momentum is growing even as Vermont and New York’s laws face legal challenges by fossil fuel companies, Republican-led states, and the Trump administration. Lawmakers and climate advocates told Grist that they always expected backlash, given the billions of dollars at stake for the oil and gas industry — but that states have no choice but to find ways to pay the enormous costs of protecting and repairing infrastructure in the face of increasing floods, wildfires, and other disasters.

The opposition “emboldens our fight more,” said Maryland state delegate Adrian Boafo, who represents Prince George’s County and co-sponsored a climate Superfund bill that passed the state legislature in March. “It means that we have to do everything we can in Maryland to protect our citizens, because we can’t rely on the federal government in this moment.” 

While the concept of a climate Superfund has been around for decades, it’s only in recent years that states have begun to seriously consider these laws. In Maryland, federal inaction on climate change and the growing burden of climate change on government budgets have led to a surge of interest, said Boafo. Cities and counties are getting hit with huge unexpected costs from damage to stormwater systems, streets, highways, and other public infrastructure. They’re also struggling to provide immediate disaster relief to residents and to prepare for future climate events. Maryland has faced at least $10 billion to $20 billion in disaster costs between 1980 and 2024, according to a recent state report. Meanwhile, up until now, governments, businesses, and individuals have borne 100 percent of these costs. 

“We realized that these big fossil fuel companies were, frankly, not paying their fair share for the climate crisis that they’ve caused,” Boafo said. 

Recent bills have also been spurred by increased sophistication in attribution science, said Martin Lockman, a climate law fellow at the Sabin Center for Climate Change Law at Columbia University. Researchers are now able to use climate models to link extreme weather events to greenhouse gas emissions from specific companies. The field provides a quantitative way for governments to determine which oil and gas companies should pay for climate damages, and how much. 

Vermont’s law sets up a process for the government to first tally up the costs of climate harms in the state caused by the greenhouse gas emissions of major oil and gas companies between 1995 and 2024. The state will then determine how much of those costs each company is responsible for, invoice them accordingly, and devote the funds to climate infrastructure and resilience projects. New York’s law, by contrast, sets a funding target ahead of time by requiring certain fossil fuel companies to pay a total of $75 billion, or $3 billion per year over 25 years. The amount each company has to pay is proportionate to their share of global greenhouse gas emissions between 2000 and 2024. Both Vermont and New York’s laws apply only to companies that have emitted over 1 billion metric tons of greenhouse gas emissions over their respective covered periods. That would include Exxon Mobil, Shell, and other oil and gas giants.

Maryland’s law is so far the only climate Superfund-related legislation to pass a state legislature this year, although Governor Wes Moore vetoed the measure late on Friday [May 16, 2025]. The original draft of the bill would have required major fossil fuel companies to pay a one-time fee for their historic carbon emissions. But over the course of the legislative session, the bill was amended...

Climate advocates decried the governor’s decision, calling it “an inexplicable reversal of a position that threatens to stymie Maryland’s climate progress for negligible budget savings.” In a joint press release by three environmental groups, Kim Coble, executive director of the Maryland League of Conservation Voters, said, “This veto is not fiscal responsibility, it’s a definitive step in the opposite direction of our climate goals.”

In California, environmental groups are optimistic about the chances of a bill passing this year. This is the second year a climate Superfund bill has been introduced in the state, and the sponsors of the new bill have focused on building a broad coalition of environmental, community, and labor groups around the proposal, said Sabrina Ashjian, project director for the Emmett Institute on Climate Change and the Environment at the UCLA School of Law. This year’s legislation was introduced shortly after the devastating Los Angeles wildfires in January, which could amplify lawmakers’ sense of urgency. The bill has now passed out of each legislative chamber’s environmental committee and is awaiting votes in their respective judiciary committees. If passed, the bill will next move to the full Senate and Assembly for a final vote. 

In the meantime, legislators are keeping a close eye on ongoing legal challenges to Vermont’s and New York’s laws...

Climate experts told Grist that with huge amounts of money and liability at stake, lawsuits from the fossil fuel industry weren’t unexpected. Boafo said that given how much financial and political support the Trump campaign received from oil and gas corporations, it’s not a surprise that the Justice Department has sued New York and Vermont. Pursuing these laws invites inevitable opposition — but avoiding the growing costs of climate devastation is even riskier, advocates said. 

Lawmakers are “passing these bills because in writing budgets, in dealing with the day-to-day operation of their states, they’re facing really serious questions about how our society is going to allocate the harms of climate change,” said Lockman. “I suspect that the lawmakers who are advocating for these bills are in it for the long haul.”"

-via Grist, May 19, 2025

[thebroccolination]

GMMTV ISN’T CONTRACTUALLY FORCING THEIR ACTORS INTO THE CLOSET

Recently, I saw a fan from the U.S. claiming on TikTok that GMMTV contractually forces their queer actors to keep their sexual identities a secret. Why else would there be so few openly queer actors???

So, first of all, it’s not like the few openly queer actors in GMMTV had to break some corporate closet door to escape, and then GMMTV went, “Aw, shucks. Well, I guess y’all win. We’ll keep paying you, you little rainbowy scamps.” There are only a few of them because being openly queer in Thailand’s media industry is still fucking hard.

Fluke Natouch of Until We Meet Again (and OhmFluke 1.0) fame left his agency years ago to work freelance so he could navigate his career on his own terms. When openly gay director New of Studio Wabi Sabi approached him to offer the role of Pharm, Fluke very actually asked New if he was sure he wanted an openly gay actor in his series. This was a conversation that two openly gay men had! No sexualities whatsoever were hidden in the having of this conversation! Or in the public recounting of it later!

Fluke asked New this because there are still roadblocks for openly queer actors, and as a freelancer, he knew this. Some sponsors are hesitant to have a queer face on their commercials, and some of the industry’s upper management are old bigoted guys holding the purse strings. Why do you think so many of these guys have to appear straight-presenting?

Interfans contribute to the glorification of heteronormativity, too. How many times have I seen interfans lusting over the KinnPorsche actors as “real men” or excusing Joss’s myriad issues over the years because he’s “so hot”?

How many femme actors are given roles with complexity? How many are shunted into comedic roles or tragic figures? How many interfans point at Pharm and complain that He Cries Too Much? You’ve all seen it. “P’DEEEEEAN.”

Regardless of what interfans claim to want, the series that tend to do best nowadays feature straight-presenting actors. Bad Buddy, 2gether, My School President, KinnPorsche, etc.

Ironically, the series that lean hard on queer themes tend not to do as well.

So you can see why most choose to keep at least a veneer of heterosexuality or else keep the glass closet door closed.

New cast Fluke and Cooheart in Until We Meet Again because Studio Wabi Sabi was both agency and production company owned by New, and New could do whatever he wanted. SWS was very much a safe haven for queer actors of all levels of openness.

And regardless of my complaints about New’s directing and perpetual insistence that he do all the editing and sound design himself (stop, man, I’m begging you, learn how to delegate), he has been working for years to create a welcoming space for queer actors in an industry that is still extremely cautious, and I’ll always respect him for that.

As much as people love to hate a corporate body, GMMTV’s myriad flaws are more based in the categories of “terrible organization” and “poor management” and “haphazardly throwing a thousand medicore, half-baked projects at a wall until one of them sticks by chance and then celebrating that surprise hit into the ground”—not “forcing their actors into the closet.”

As far as I’m aware, the only khuujin (“imaginary couple”) in the industry who’s Openly Dating is PorscheArm, and they were already out and together before the fame, so they’re more Public Figures Advocating for Social Progress than they are BL actors. I’d say ZeeNuNew are borderline, because while they seem increasingly more cavalier with their subtlety, even they’ve been excruciatingly careful in their labeling over the past few years. (“Are you a couple?” “You could call us that.”)

And there’s a reason for the caution. Things are changing for the better, but progress is slow.

In an early, post-SOTUS interview from 2016, infant actors KristSingto were point-blank asked by TV hosts if they’re “normal” with a heavy insinuation that they’d be mocked and laughed at unless they asserted their heterosexuality in front of a live audience. Not exactly a warm and kind environment to say, “Actually…” As the first in the line of fire, KristSingto were constantly bombarded with invasive questions and suspicion and homophobia, and it’s only been nine years since SOTUS aired.

Now, you’ve got the evolution of hosts making lewd innuendos at khuujin and trying to “trick” them into Coming Out for content. Yet, all the khuujin seem to know how to play the game Juuuust Right to avoid saying anything concrete and damning, leaving just enough crumbs for fans to pick up on and enjoy.

Because look how the few openly queer actors are treated. Bruce Sirikorn Kananurak’s best-known role is framed villain Aey in Lovely Writer, and Gun Korawit Boonsri is regularly cast as Sassy Gay Side Character. Cooheart gets variety in his roles, but he’s with Studio Wabi Sabi under New, an openly gay CEO who famously allows his actors a ton of freedom in their image. And it says a lot to me that Cooheart didn’t make the move over to GMMTV along with his colleagues last year.

So, y’know, of course I’m not saying GMMTV is paradise. While he was with SWS, Boun said he wanted to get tattoos but New advised him against it because it might have limited potential roles. So New didn’t forbid it, he just cautioned Boun against doing it. Meanwhile, he implied recently that he’d like to dye his hair blond again, but GMMTV has to approve things like that. Hence, you’ll hear about some GMMTV actors who just get a tattoo done or cut their hair without telling anyone and then they show up for work with an insouciant shrug; the beg forgiveness>>>ask permission move.

So GMMTV does have some stupid public image rules, and they have also discouraged certain actors from interacting with each other in case it drives their profit margins down (see: The Chronicles of Management Driving KristGun Apart—I’m making a post about it, don’t worry). And I’m sure the Grammy Powers That Be go ://// if a GMMTV actor says, “Hey, I’m thinking of telling the world I’m bisexual tomorrow,” and go, “Maybe don’t though.” It’s just not something they’re Contractually Obligated to hide; it’s more common sense.

Like I said, GMMTV’s real crimes in my eyes are things like 1) repeatedly trying to push men like Foei and Joss who’ve proven themselves to be toxic nightmares to women and queer people over and over throughout the years, 2) overworking their most popular actors to physical and mental exhaustion, 3) barely promoting their GL productions despite their obvious popularity, 4) shoving their Not Singers onstage with zero vocal training, 5) prioritizing trends over quality, 6) having Zero Plan of what to do Most of the Time, 7) hiring on more and more actors without hiring enough managers to support them, and more.

There’s no “you gotta be Heterosexual-Presenting or else” clause in their contracts. They’re just actors in a conservative Asian country where marriage equality has only recently been recognized, and that’s not even close to having social equality. Plenty of western actors don’t want the extra baggage of being Openly Queer (see the Kit Connor debacle), let alone in a country controlled by military and monarchy.

Thailand isn’t a queer paradise.

Hell, look at Japan: they invented BL and GL and their government isn’t even close to recognizing marriage equality. To the majority of Japanese people, BL and GL are embarrassing subgenres that “Normal People” (ie: what heterosexuals are called in Japan—yes I’m serious) would never publicly admit to enjoying. I know this because I was a Queer Foreigner in Japan for eleven years and my whole existence was weird.

As far as I’ve heard from friends who work with GMMTV, it’s a far more progressive company than many interfans give it credit for. Many of the staff are openly queer, a ton of their directors are openly queer, and their actors who are queer are either open with the understanding that there are limitations to that choice or closeted to protect their job opportunities. Once you’re Openly Queer, you’re pushed into a very different and much smaller box, and they all know it.

So y’know. GMMTV actors aren’t All Straight, and the ones who are queer aren’t Closeted by Force. GMMTV is just a company of people with a wide tapestry of nuance, just like you’d expect from any large organization of artistic and business folk producing queer media for a general audience.

In 2025, let’s please abandon the myth that GMMTV is an evil kpop company. <3

It’s a sloppy, poorly run nightmare factory. :D

EDIT: Also, director X confirmed on Twitter last year that GMMTV has no anti-dating policy.

[theambitiouswoman]

15 Productivity Hacks 💻💭📝💡

Use the Pomodoro Method. Work in focused intervals (typically 25 minutes) followed by a short break. This helps you maintain high levels of focus and gives regular breaks to rest.

If a something takes less than two minutes, do it immediately.

Schedule specific blocks of time for specific activities. This helps in dedicating focus to one task at a time.

Group similar tasks together and tackle them in one go. For example, respond to all emails at once rather than sporadically throughout the day.

Contrary to popular belief, multitasking can reduce productivity. Focus on one task at a time for better efficiency.

Use apps and tools like Trello, Asana, or Notion to manage tasks and projects.

Use the Eisenhower Box or the ABCD method to categorize tasks based on their urgency and importance.

Keep your workspace tidy. A clean workspace can enhance focus and reduce distractions.

Even if one doesn’t exist, setting a deadline can create a sense of urgency.

Large tasks can be overwhelming. Break them into smaller steps to make them more manageable.

Aim for excellence, not perfection. Sometimes waiting for something to be perfect can lead to procrastination.

If someone else can do a task, delegate it. This allows you to focus on tasks that only you can do.

Working for long hours without a break can lead to burnout. Short, regular breaks can help maintain high levels of focus.

Use apps to play background music/noise that enhances concentration or block all notifications to prevent you from checking your phone.

At the end of the week, review what you’ve accomplished and what needs to be adjusted for the coming days.

[mysterystarz]

sukuna didn’t do love.

it wasn’t in his nature to seek it out. his solitude gave him everything he ever wanted — stability, and an undeniable sense of strength.

when he didn’t want solitude, he had his pick of anyone he wanted at the the university to join him bedside. everyone from yorozu to even the nerdiest people on campus wanted a chance to feel his silk sheets on their skin. they wanted a chance to feel his famous hands and the way they’d make them feel things they’d never felt before.

which is precisely why your lack of interest in him when you were assigned to a group project was shocking.

“you heard me?” his voice came out annoyed as he looked at you, sweetly typing notes into your laptop. “you handle a majority of this presentation. i’ll deliver it and get us a perfect score. you’re only needed for the busy work.”

you only hummed amusedly, shifting your gaze back to where he sat. you offered him none of the admiration he got from everyone else.

he was ryomen sukuna. he was a god in the sheets, an academic wizard. he was the epitomy of success at university.

so then why did you not care for him at all?

“i’ve delegated tasks based on what i’ve discerned you’re good at. you handle this half and i’ll handle the other. we’ll meet 3 days before presentation to rehearse.”

you rose from your seat, tossing him a casual smirk. “i will be the one getting us a perfect grade on this project. later sukuna.”

sukuna was shocked—so shocked that he barely registered the dreamy looks from the others in class. the way they pined for his partnership (in a group hopefully — he didn’t do love).

something about you has him wondering if your lips would look nicer swollen from kisses rather than smirking triumphantly at him.

[ronearoundblindly]

Your Dog, His Tricks

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader tale set a little over a year after losing their virginity together and based on this ask.

Summary: Injured on a mission and MIA for days, you return to a very high-strung boyfriend who can't express what he's feeling until it boils to the surface.

Warnings: arguments and smut. MINORS DNI. WC 5.4k

You don’t know when it started, this sort of competition with your boyfriend, but at some point you and Steve became a packaged deal. Unfortunately, that package was labeled: Steve Rogers and his girl. You feel nameless sometimes, and you know you are better than that; maybe you aren’t super like he is, but you are (and were since before dating) a whole-ass Avenger in your own right. You are a stellar agent. You can bring home the top prize. You can finish this shit-show of a mission all on your own.

No help.

None.

You noticed a problem after months and months of fighting with Steve—no, that sounds wrong—beside Steve. 

Okay, maybe it’s not wrong-wrong to say fighting with him because you two do have the occasional argument. Just one argument, really. One argument over and over again about you fighting beside him, why it’s fine, why he should let it go. You are as safe fighting beside him now as you were before the two of you became this set, this lop-sided partnership. He still wants to protect you from shit you are trained to protect yourself from, shit you survived just fine without him, shit like the last three days.

He’s stubborn, and so are you.

You’ve had trouble getting him to back off. The Team is a team, and Steve does great, delegating all sorts of jobs when you are one among many. As soon as it’s you and him alone? He’s…overly helpful, over-protective, and generally over-the-top fussy. He is adoring and caring and competent. Apparently, those things make him feel capable of doing everything for you. It’s sweet until it’s not. Every time you start a project—laundry, cooking, organizing shelves, or leading an actual mission—Steve waltzes in and has to finish it for you.

Because he loves you. Because he’s trying to help. Because he can.

It makes you feel as if you can’t, or, at least, as if he thinks you can’t.

“Well, buddy, you can’t have this one,” you mutter outside of HQ’s gate, gripping your side and flicking open the phone you stole a few states back.

You’ve been gone for just shy of seventy-three hours.

At first, you truly had no way to contact the Team. You were on your own a thousand miles from home, fried comms and a spent weapon. You missed the rendezvous at the safehouse because it took twenty or so hours to find a vet office with the supplies to patch yourself up, and by the time you could have reached out, that ear worm wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’ll swoop in.

He’ll save you.

You’re his girl, so you need him. You can’t handle this without him. No one will believe you did once he gets anywhere near you.

Call it adrenaline. Call it blood loss. Call it shock. You can’t give up this glory, so you told yourself you needed radio silence to keep the recovered intel secure until back on Avengers campus. You told yourself the risk of interception was too high to chance a phone call.

Now, fifty feet from the infirmary, you need to get past one more obstacle.

You know Steve would jump from a third-story window to get to you, know he would scoop you right up into his arms and carry you over the threshold, know that would mean Steve wins.

No. Not this time. This is yours. You deserve the credit. You are crossing that finish line solo.

You jab the last of the epi-pens into your good leg, letting yet more adrenaline heave through what little of your blood volume is left and call the HQ secure line from the burner.

“Friday,” you start, standing at the bus stop, a blindspot from the Avengers’ surveillance cameras because the city already monitors it, “authorization Gamma-Lima-Four-Whisky. Do not declare connection. I repeat, do not declare this connection.”

The AI welcomes you back onto the grid politely.

“Thank you.” A bubble of pain bursts in your throat. “Give them a different location for this call, ok? Tell them it’s from the nearest functional payphone.”

Friday does as you say because why wouldn’t she? It’s not as if Steve is going to pause to question where the ping is—

—and he’s already out, on the bike, pushing that engine to its acceleration limit and narrowly escaping a shoulder check from the slowly opening gates.

You sneak right past, knowing he won’t look in his rearview, not with his eye on a prize ten blocks away, and you collapse just inside the garage ramp.

You wake prone in the Regeneration Cradle after surgery to a kind, smiling nurse monitoring your progress.

It’s difficult to focus. After a few blinks, you can see her features clearly, then beyond her are just eyes.

His eyes.

Piercing blue doesn’t begin to describe the intensity of Steve’s gaze, and his silence is deafening.

Each quarter-minute he inventories the room, and he exhales. That is the sum total of what he can manage to do right now. He’s attempting to keep it together until you two are alone obviously. Steve fails at very few things in life; this is one of them. You can see the outline of his teeth through his tight cheek.

“Doc wanted me to tell you you did a great job,” the nurse states softly. “If you hadn’t packed those wounds so tight, you’d have died for sure.”

Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you flash a wry smile. No one gets the Cradle without…extensive injuries. You’ve never had the ‘pleasure,’ not even for your through-and-through last year.

Steve huffs in frustration, keeping his huge body out of the nurse’s way even when you can feel him try to astral project himself forward to hand you ice chips. Instead, you swallow cotton.

“Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes from above, “your motorcycle has been cited for running five red lights with a further two dozen traffic violations. Shall I claim Official Avengers’ business?”

You croak ‘no.’ He says ‘yes.’

There’s a pause. “I will ask again later.”

Who says AIs can’t throw some serious shade?

Silence descends again as the spindling print needle moves on to a different wound. You’re lucid but wobbly trying to think, a combination of the waning anesthesia and pain meds.

If frowns could kill, your boyfriend’s would devastate the entire med bay.

This is what you hoped beyond hope to avoid, but it’s also why your endgame involved going solo.

“You’re making my point for me,” you sigh, your chest hurting more after surgery than it has in the past twenty-four hours. Clearly, your nerves are back online.

“And what point was that?“ he asks sarcastically, waiting in your own stubborn silence. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Really?” You’re playfully shocked.

“No, not really! God.” He rushes closer. “What the hell were you thinking? If you had time to send me on a wild goose chase, you could damn well have called to tell me you were alive!”

The cradle’s lights shut off, job complete.

“Language, Steve.” 

He looks incredulous, engrossingly livid, anxious outrage contained by his one frayed thread of control left. 

“We found the intel,” he grits through a clenched jaw. “After power-washing your blood off it, everything was on the drive.”

You can’t sit up on your elbows yet, so you bite back, “good. It all worked out fine then.”

Wafting off him in thick clouds, Steve’s anger is near-flammable in the small room.

The nurse offers to step out for a second.

You say ‘yes.’ Steve barks ‘no.’

This isn’t the nurse’s first rodeo. “Alright, surgery went well. All debris and fragments removed. Your tissue is all intact now, too, but remember, this treatment doesn’t train new muscle fiber or nerve-endings.” She ignores Steve and pushes past to the other end of the table. “Rest up. Tomorrow, you can report to PT. They’ll work with you until you’re field-approved again.”

“She is not—“

“Both of you are ordered to rest,” the nurse snaps, nodding in Steve’s direction “—and make yourself useful by changing her drip when it runs out. If you can’t manage that, Captain, I will find a separate apartment or keep her here overnight.”

“No,” Steve breathes, visibly deflating. Like a scolded puppy, your boyfriend tucks his chin down, rings of grey settling beneath his dark sea eyes. It’s plain as day he hasn’t slept either.

The nurse calls for a wheelchair, and Steve dutifully helps you scoot off the table when it arrives. While he positions the IV to move in tandem, you attempt to push yourself by the huge rubber wheels and fail. Doc was not kidding about muscle weakness.

Steve says nothing.

You’re rolled back to your shared room by the grumpiest Captain America. 

He helps you dress in baggy, comfy clothes and silently reattaches the line of your drip. Not one touch is in a sexual, sensual, or even intimate way even though you are naked at some point.

You can’t remember what you expected; you’ve been so focused on completing the mission for so long. Did you want a desperate homecoming? Did you want him to grovel or worship at your feet? You think, at some point, you knew he’d push back, but you thought…maybe…he’d want you more.

Steve seems to turn his interest on and off so easily, which is great professionally but hard to read personally…or maybe you’re just struggling under the distracting hum of medication. It’s a white noise you can’t ignore, lulling you unconscious, so you can’t analyze the situation anymore. Maybe, you think, you try…but the thoughts don’t come.

He situates you on his side of the bed—to accommodate the cord and stand—and tucks himself quietly into the smallest corner of mattress that his bulk can fit on.

He falls asleep holding your hand. It’s the only place you two are connected. After nearly eighty-five hours apart, that’s still worth it. Maybe.

At some point, his hand goes limp and falls away.

Finally clear of mind, you keep watching Steve the next day. He doesn’t necessarily seem angry, and he doesn’t necessarily seem relieved either. He’s so robotic in his interactions. He won’t talk to you just at you. 

You understand why he was so standoffish last night, but you thought Steve would surely want you after that. You thought he’d start touching you again. 

You two waited so long for your first time, but after that, sex was relatively easy. Steve is an affectionate man when he’s allowed, when he’s in love, and you know he loves you.

Like the nurse said: all your tissue is fully healed. The only restrictions you have are in regards to field work, and the phantom jolts of pain—when you reach into a cabinet or take down a clothes hanger—aren’t real. 

Steve’s always an arm’s length away, just in case, meaning he is there to help you.

Always an arm’s length away.

No closer. No farther.

That afternoon you attempt to start talking about your mission, but that’s when he moves.

Steve practically sprints out the door with a half-baked excuse, so you go to physical therapy alone. You can go alone. That’s not the problem.

If you thought talking to Steve was difficult, you weren’t ready for how hard touching Steve would be.

You try to initiate even a cuddle that second night, and he jumps up claiming to have forgotten something somewhere else that he promised someone. Your boyfriend can’t lie worth beans. You don’t know why he tries.

You’re asleep before he returns.

The next night is exactly the opposite. You spend longer at the gym, slowly and painstakingly repeating every single exercise you know in order to streamline these new muscles. It’s an unholy pain in the ass, but you do it because you can—and will—get back in the field.

Even though the workout was mild, you’re awash with that runner’s high when you return to find Steve passed out already. He looks so peaceful, brow relaxed and lips gently parted. He also looks, well, good enough to eat, but you’ll start slow.

There was one time early on, before you two went all the way, that you woke him up by grinding on him in your sleep. You think now, perhaps, you can recreate that, catch him off-guard and dissipate some of this tension between you. This would be a good release. You don’t normally go this long. Obviously, Steve wouldn’t have masturbated while you were MIA and possibly dead, and every other second since has been accounted for.

He practically can’t have sex anywhere else except naked in a bed. He’s even told you, point blank, that he feels no need to touch himself since he has you. You are what he wants. That’s what he said.

Except he doesn’t wake up to your advances. He just rolls over like you’re disturbing him and softly snores.

For the first time, you wonder if you’ve really broken the two of you. How long will he be mad at you for doing your job? 

Steve rolls back over in his sleep, holding you close like nothing’s happened. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but it’s enough and so, so wonderful to imagine all is well.

About a week into your ���recovery’ (which is sorta bullshit since you can do everything the same by now just with an occasional, faint twinge, no more than the strain of every workout, ever), Steve takes Sam Wilson up on his offer of 1-on-1 basketball for a while. The Team—minus you—has a raid planned in the morning, and there’s always nervous energy to burn off in anticipation.

Your boyfriend has been a nightmare grump, but no one wants to take on the hassle of convincing Steve that he’s being too Steve to Steve properly. He still won’t talk to you about anything other than the weather, food, or daily schedules.

You’re even considering taking a break from field work because this all has become too much. If Steve is gonna shut down after every dangerous mission—which is, in fact, all of them—then maybe it’s not worth the risk. You’re good, you’re great, but you aren’t super.

“Taste of his own medicine, I say,” Bucky mutters, sitting beside you on the bleachers between courts.

“Huh?” You were distracted, watching Steve and Sam squeak across the floor.

Steve sinks a perfect layup and doesn’t gloat. Do-gooder.

“He used to get so mad when I’d find him in an alley all beaten up,” Buck continues. “Thought I was being too protective. I trusted him, but he was puny and he did get sick all the time. He could take a punch, sure, but every mark took weeks to heal. Half the time, they were still yellow when some idiot landed fresh ones.”

Steve claps beneath the net, encouraging Sam, focused on not outshining anyone.

He’s been the same with everyone else but you, and the whole Team can see it. You shouldn’t be surprised someone is finally talking about it; you simply wonder how Buck drew the short straw.

“Didn’t wanna be babied,” Bucky snorts, fondly glowering at his century-long bestie, “while low and behold, he pulls that stunt with everybody, every day.” 

“Yup,” you pop, looking at the matte metal beneath your feet, knowing there’s a line between the ‘caring’ version and the ‘coddling’ version. Steve nose-dived right over that line this time.

“What he appreciated, though, was consistency.” Bucky swivels his hair around into a bun and ties it. “Punk is dedicated, and even if it was just him--the hund’ed pound soaking-wet guy whose only real talent at that point was getting back on his feet--he knew he’d fight anyway.

“Bit hypocritical to be mad at his girl for doing the same, don’t ya think?” Bucky muses, clucking his tongue.

The brunette watches you bristle slightly at the moniker. His girl. Not only is it what got you into this mess, it feels untrue based on that big, broad, cold shoulder you’ve received from the man racing back and forth in front of you.

Smiling, Bucky nudges you with his elbow. “I’m excited for you to get back on your feet,” he adds.

You’re stuck thinking about that long after Bucky jumps into the game.

It’s no surprise then that when the doctor gives you the all-clear the very next morning, you’re over the moon and ready to strike. You don’t hesitate for a second when the alarm sounds less than an hour later.

The Team needs reinforcements. Your Team needs you.

You hustle into the back of a quinjet with a dozen agents. While the others file out to where the main conflict is raging, you sneak around the perimeter to suss out the mission goal, a treasure trove of enemy tech hidden somewhere in what was thought to be an abandoned village.

Not so abandoned if it’s lighting up like the pyrotechnics show on an action film set...

The explosions rattle the ground, yet you know the Team have breached the main chamber. Those enemy forces still fighting are distracting from a retreat. The other agents can catch them just fine. Your mission is intel recovery.

To keep your approach stealthy, you don’t announce your movements over comms, and Nat doesn’t scan back down the dark hallway you wedge into as she carries out an asset. If you weren’t so far back, you never would have seen him.

An enemy agent slinks out from behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry right in front of you. His silhouette is short and thin; he’s built for stealth, too.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears as you follow, and that bastard gets close—so close—to Steve’s turned back that the pistol’s muzzle nearly touches.

Not this time. Not a chance. None.

You land a roundhouse kick to the exposed neck above his kevlar, and that sucker goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Steve turns around at the ready, stunned silent in the middle of his instructions to Bucky who is not visible from the other side heaped boxes. The papers still smoke where evidence was burned.

You salute at big, blue eyes. 

“On your six, Cap.” 

Steve looks at you, looks down at the man, and looks back up at you…pissed. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

What the fuck indeed…

All you did was help your team. All you did was stop Captain America from getting his head blown off. In no small fashion, all you did was save your boyfriend’s life.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

His grip on your arm is painful as he leads you all the way back to the jet himself, shoving you into the jump seat between other returned agents and shouting for you to 'stay right there.'

Bucky announces over comms that the rest is clean up. All but the specialized document interpretation and perimeter teams are moving out. 

Steve huffs, contemplates staying on a battlefield instead of going back with you, but decides to sit across the ship in silence again, fuming, making fists over and over in his fingerless leather gloves, bitterly sniffing as loud as possible the entire flight home. He refuses to answer a single person until the jet touches down at HQ. 

“Everyone off,” he bellows, “everyone except you.” 

You can’t stop it. Your hands fly up in exaggerated annoyance automatically.

“What do you want, Steve? I got the go-ahead this morning. I’m allowed to be here.”

“Stop doing that.” He rounds on you.

“Doing what? My job?!”

Chest puffed out, feathers ruffled, cheeks hot and red, Steve peels off his cowl. “Being insubordinate.”

“You’re not my superior officer,” you hiss, “we are equals, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot.”

You poke a finger to his chest for each achievement listed.

“Fine," Steve shouts, crossing his arms, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

Them be fightin’ words. “A what?”

“You heard me,” he all but whispers.

It’s laughable, truly laughable how bad Steve is at hiding some of those wheels from turning in his head. This isn’t about today. This is the thing he buried the past week.

You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks, hot breath mingling with yours.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” You push weakly at his chest, taunting, like it's a game. “Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

His face cracks, an avalanche unmoored from a stable mountain.

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, his own derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about the job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

A dark, hazy sheen layers over his sharp gaze. “Don’t make me keep you home.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well—” you purse your lips in defiance “—isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you dismiss. “We both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head, He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.” His last word thickens the air on the jet. 

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables?

Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs. He retracts his touch the instant you let out a longing sigh, unable to restrain how needy you are. His fingers wander to perfectly clean and unmarked flesh…on your thigh, along one side, and a few inches below that. He’s tracing the bullet wounds he watched heal so quickly.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out?” he says absently, lost in thought, his thumb shifting to notch into the dip of your hip. “Maybe I should leave you wondering if we’ll ever—”

“Yes,” you whimper, no real idea what you’re saying. That’s not what answer you meant.

“How would you like three whole days of this feeling, huh? You think you’d fare any better than I did? Think you’d make it even five minutes?”

“Uh-uh.” Again, with no clue what you’re truly responding to, you buck your hips forward onto his long fingers.

The cords around your wrists get tighter while you struggle to set a pace. Behind you, the metal rings of the netting hit the hull with a soft clinking noise. 

“Not so fast.” Steve pulls his hand away just far enough to remove all friction. “Because three days, sweetheart, it was torture. Felt like an eternity right on the edge.”

“Please,” you beg.

One deliberate swipe of his fingers through your slick is enough to make you mewl.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve. Please, I need you.”

“Need me? You have an odd way of showing it, doll. You have to promise me—“ he thrusts his fingers in “—promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you,” you cry, convinced that it’s true for the sole reason: you never want to experience anything other than this Steve for as long as you live.

“You are so brave, and so…capable, and I know you can do anything, but you…can’t survive anything.” He takes excruciating pleasure in slow thrusts and teasing circles. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless. Promise, say it.”

“I promise.” Your weight sags into his ministrations, called to focus on nothing but where his hand disappears between you. “I promise I won’t be reckless.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls limp against your tied arms. It sounds so good from his lips. Why did you ever doubt?

“I promise I’ll come back to you,” you manage out like a prayer.

“Yeah? That’s it. Is that what you want?”

“I promise. I promise, Steve.” You time your movements sloppily with his measured tempo. “Please, I need more.”

“I know. I know.” He’s strung out, too, listening to your pathetic whimpers after less than five minutes, exactly like he predicted.

You’re so over-wrought with desperation you can’t coordinate with his manhandling your legs apart—your knees, really, since your ankles are still caught in your pants. Instead of taking off your boots, Steve simply unzips himself and dives right into your wet, warm, and welcoming pussy.

Knowing he has a thing against anything naughty in his suits makes it sexier. You want his intensity—you’ve always been curious—and finally you have it: unhinged, untethered, super Steve Rogers. Your body makes room out of sheer joy.

“I know,” Steve coos, his face pressed to your chest as he adjusts. “Fuck, I know, honey.”

“Move, Steve.”

“No,” he says with a gentle kiss to your sternum. “You wanna come? Go ahead. You can do it all on your own. You can do anything you want, can’t ya?”

You groan in frustration.

You wanted this, an annoying voice in the muddled depths of your mind calls. You’re independent.

With a sob of both excitement and fury, your thighs weld onto that sturdy, I-beam beast. You brace your bent arms over your angled and hovering body, leveraging the cargo straps to hoist you up and down.

Your muscles burn, strained more than they were on your lone journey back to HQ.

Steve grunts and moans, the ghost of his wide spread palms beneath your back as a safety net.

“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.” 

Amidst your own noises, you can barely hear him. You’re not building to a climax, you’re falling into one at terminal velocity, flailing. Struggling to hang on and let go all at once, you do come, but it’s more of a plateau than a full release.

Steve’s unhappy and takes your ass in a bruising grip, finally pumping his thick length in and out, dragging the head of his cock across that perfect spot over and over.

“You can do better than that,” he snarls, hair wrecked and falling in his face.

Wave, undertow, and wave again, pleasures simply blend into the next. He gets handsy, keyed up and out of control, muttering “don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

You’d scold him for cursing if the air weren’t being punched from your lungs.

“Come on, sweetheart. Three for three.”

You’re almost disappointed he only wants you to come three times in payment for his days of torture. Even as a tear escapes the corner of your eye and your throat breaks in a hoarse “please,” you know you would give him more. You'd give him anything.

When you finally reach that shattering end, Steve is almost incoherently feral, one hand clamped at the back of your neck, the other anchored to the small of your back, slamming your ass to his leather-covered thighs like you are his mission.

“I promise,” you try to repeat, but you aren’t sure they sound like words.

Whether in response to you or as an errant thought, Steve’s own broken voice rattles at your sweaty neck. “You can take it,” he whispers gruffly. “You can take it.”

You’re floating by the time he comes, his hips stilling slowly. The buzz of your body now outdoes anything anesthesia or pain meds concocted.

Steve peppers your skin with lazy, light kisses until you remind him of your bound wrists, but then he’s overly apologetic and scrambling to free them.

He keeps himself inside you and maneuvers to sit with you on his lap.

You stay there for a while, your numb and sore arms folded between your chests. Steve only stops petting your shoulders to cradle your face, soft blue eyes roaming, adoring. He whispers concern that you’re okay, how are your legs, are you warm enough, you feeling good?

Yes, you think, you’ve taken care of your girl.

“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbles long after the pins and needles have abandoned their assault on your tired legs.

You tuck some silky hair behind his ear. “Like what? Fucked out?”

He’s floating too because he doesn’t chastise.

“Happy, healthy—“ he lets out a deep sigh “—home.”

“Speaking of home,” you say, inching ever so slightly higher to let him slide out of you, “wanna cuddle in bed all night and not get up until someone tries to break in the door?”

That knocks some of the glow off him. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh god, the poor people who have to clean this thing…”

“Let’s be honest,” you snort. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s been on you, but if it’s that big of a deal, we could go hose you down before handing our equipment in.”

He smiles, shaking his head in dismissal.

With his help, you climb off his lap and slowly shimmy up your bottoms, realizing he did truly make a mess of you both.

Steve looks down at his own lap, horrified. “Do I need to burn this?”

“That sounds like a challenge to make you filthier,” you consider, but maybe you should change into your civies before exiting the jet…

“Ya know,” Steve muses, passing over to the small locker of clothing overhead and grabbing a t-shirt and sweats, “I almost got shot in the head today, and you had three bullets fished outta you a week ago. I’m thinking we’ve earned a vacation.”

Workaholic Steve? Actively applying for time off? You’ll be damned.

“My my my, Captain Rogers…the real dirty talk begins.”

He huffs out a laugh and blushes.

“Well, I know we didn’t do anything more special than dinner for our anniversary, so…” He pulls you to his chest again, smelling of slightly musty laundry and pungent sex. “Let’s go on a fucking vacation.”

Your neck cranes to his height to see a soft smile. Oof, he’s good.

 “I missed you,” he adds like a prayer, “and you’re the badass who saved me.”

He giggles at your scrunched nose and watches you bask in that glory.

“Like I said, you’re welcome—“ you hug Steve, letting his warmth radiate through you, moving in time with his rising and falling chest “—and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses the crown of your head.

When you open the bombay doors, there’s a thermos left at the base of the ramp, a folded paper tucked beneath it. 

We should talk about how to better soundproof the jets. Brought you some refreshments. It’s hazelnut. ~Bucky

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jamneuromain @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @brandycranby

A/N: I sincerely give up on editing this anymore, so I hope it turned out okay 🙇🏻‍♀️

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[thirstkanaphan]

You said "(this is where KQ has really dropped the ball for all the members, imo, but we can get into that discussion later)" about the solo outings.

May I humbly request that it is later now and I would very much like to know what you think about the individual forays of Ateez?? Thank you!

@storkmuffin I will happily share my mostly-coherent thoughts about this topic, although I will caveat that this is my first kpop fandom and I really don't know enough about other groups to know if what I'm saying is specific to KQ or applies to other companies.

I'm happy for others to chime in!

My opinions are scaffolded by two broad impressions of KQ as a company: first, that KQ still does not quite know what to do with the unprecedented success and demand for Ateez; second, KQ has delegated much of the promotional responsibility for Ateez to atiny/the fandom.

These impressions have been formed by nearly a year on atiny twitter, where most of the major fanbases reside. I often remind myself that the primary demographic on atiny twitter is under-25, meaning many of their complaints and concerns are based on general ignorance about how business/music industries operate...but I also have so much admiration for how the fandom has mobilized over the years to achieve great things for Ateez: their multiple music show wins, invitations to major music festivals like Mawazine (the result of endless campaigning by the Moroccan fanbase) AND, most importantly, their tireless effort to get Ateez albums distributed in the United States. While Ateez had (and still has) a distribution deal with RCA, my understanding is that they have done very little to promote Ateez and the fanbases had to campaign for their albums to be distributed through Hello82 which gave them the opportunity to debut on the BB200.

The fandom mantra has always been: Ateez only has Atiny.

For many in the fandom, this mantra also applies to how KQ has promoted the members' various solo efforts in recent years. I have mixed feelings about this sentiment, and I'll do my best to articulate them here.

When it comes to the members' solo schedules, whether it be fashion show appearances, artist collaborations, or solo music projects, KQ does the bare minimum to promote these projects to their 10.5 million instagram followers, 4.3 million twitter followers, 4.4 million youtube subscribers, and 8 million tiktok subscribers.

Let's use as an example Sagittarius by Wooyoung, which Hongjoong produced for his Ateez Present series. An original song with original choreography, and a beautifully-produced performance video available only on youtube.

The KQ promotional cycle for this song: an announcement on twitter less than a week before the premiere (often less than 48 hours); our biggest fanbase releases a clip that can be shared on twitter (KQ only posts a link) and the official Ateez account posts an IG story with a link to the video, which Wooyoung reposted to his own stories. A day or so later, they release a logbook. After a few days, it's like the song never existed...except among atiny, who created hashtags, got those hashtags trending, made fun edits, and did their best to share the song with as many people as possible, pushing Wooyoung's IG account under every viral tweet.

To compare, I looked at another recent solo release by a member of a Big4 company: Beomgyu from TXT, who released his first single Panic a couple of weeks ago. This solo had a big promotional push: weeks in advance, HYBE rolled out concept photos, teaser clips, and an official hashtag campaign. You can easily access all this content in the highlighted stories tab on TXT's official IG page, which remains up to this day.

I may be ignorant, but this really doesn't seem like an impossible strategy for KQ to replicate, given the money they've already invested in producing these solo tracks. There was practically no promotion for San or Yunho's solo projects. Mingi really seemed to be in the room when they promoted Autobahn: that release got a lot more build-up and attention, perhaps because of its collaboration with Yumin.

One major complaint among atiny is that songs like Sagittarius or Autobahn are not available on streaming, and to be clear: none of the Ateez Present or Fix Off Project songs are available on spotify or apple music. Large parts of the fandom point to KQ as failing their artists by not making their solo projects available for streaming.

I share the somewhat contrarian opinion of those who argue that these solo projects are largely artistic ventures by the members, driven by their desire to make music for themselves to share with atiny. Making them available to stream transforms these songs into another metric, diluting their artistic value by replacing it with commercial value, and we cannot guarantee that those numbers will hold up to the hype of the fandom (streaming numbers are the no.1 metric used against Ateez in fanwars).

This is perhaps a naive opinion to hold, given that KQ is a company and making money is their primary goal. A more realistic explanation is that there are complicated logistics involved in putting a song on spotify, including artist royalties, licensing fees, and copyright. It may just be easier and mores straightforward to upload something to youtube....

But that still doesn't excuse the minimal promotion expended towards these projects. Frankly, it's short-sighted of KQ not to see that the more attention paid to these solo ventures enhances the overall Ateez brand.

And as a counterpoint, Jongho's recent cover got minimal promo, even though that song is available for streaming.

There's a separate and parallel argument to be made about the members' foray into the fashion world. For their recent appearances at Paris and Milan Fashion Weeks, the official Ateez accounts merely reposted reels and stories; the fandom once again came up with strategies to get hashtags trending and put together guidelines for how to generate EMV and MIV (we achieved great results for San at D&G and Wooyoung for Courreges). To KQ's credit, we did get excellent logbooks documenting Seonghwa and Mingi's fashion week journeys.

However, poor Yunho also had a fashion week appearance: Seoul Fashion Week...but he never got any promo, not even a logbook. It's like it never happened.

There's something to be said about how the small-company mentality of KQ has enabled the members to grow their individual brands in ways that feel organic and suited to their unique personalities: Seonghwa met Isabel Marant at a party in LA and now he's the face of their international campaign; Mingi landed the Calvin Klein gig and his recent Marie Claire photoshoot due to his own networking; Hongjoong met Odetari at a song camp, and they decided to collab (Hongjoong's collaboration with Odetari, which went viral for Hongjoong's lyrics allegedly dissing Bang PD, got next to no promotion by KQ. Odetari did a lot of the heavy lifting to promote that track and made cute animated mvs on his youtube channel and tiktok. It also bears noting that Hongjoong collaborated with a Palestinian American musician, while many Big4 companies are actively being boycotted by kpop fans for their associations and investments with Zionist companies). KQ appears not to dictate what their artists can and cannot do when it comes to their solo schedules, but also seem disinclined to make extraordinary (or industry-standard) efforts to support these ventures, except in rare cases.

There's still so much we don't know about their contracts and what will change when they inevitably renew those contracts. We also know that Ateez now works with an external PR firm for their European fashion schedules, which is perhaps why we saw SO MUCH attention during their recent fashion week appearances.

Yet their solo music promotion remains a mystery to me, and I'd love to hear from anyone who has more to say about this topic!

My final thought is that KQ's reliance on the fandom to do the promotional work will inevitably backfire. Our fandom is growing but with a lot of casual fans who have only ever known Ateez as a globally successful idol group, and not the underdogs whose remarkable achievements were (and still are) underpinned by the invisible labor of their dedicated fans and fanbases. Whenever a member's solo project fails to hit 1 million views within the first week, the fandom goes into blame-mode, tearing itself apart for our lack of support to the members, especially after everything they do for us. This isn't sustainable nor healthy. KQ needs to take on a lot more of the promotional burden now, especially since they have the means to do so.

We will see how that goes with the next comeback!

Thanks for the question, and thanks for letting me ramble.

[cepheustarot]

What awaits you in September?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

✧ Masterlist ✧ Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: You have probably been experiencing feelings and severe stress lately, as a new stage or a new period begins in your life, perhaps you will have to move to a place unfamiliar to you, someone may be waiting for exam results, someone will have an interview for a new workplace, someone may be waiting for an important answer from a certain person is waiting for news about a situation that has been  continuing on for a long time and everything like that. I want to please you with the fact that soon your experiences will end and in their place will come a strong relief, you will get the result you wanted, the answer you have been waiting for a long time, and if you have worked hard on something important to you, then your efforts will bear fruit. The beginning of September will finally be the period when your life will regain balance and harmony, you will again begin to feel a surge of strength and footing. The cards recommend enjoying this period to the fullest, devoting time to yourself, giving yourself time to fully recover. The beginning of September is also good for those who have long thought about starting to realize their plans and desires, but could not find the strength or time. The main thing is not to overdo it, do everything based on your condition, do not forget to rest, because now it is a priority. The main thing is your comfort.

In September, you will also meet new faces in your life. You may feel very shy and excited about upcoming acquaintances, but the cards recommend that you relax and behave naturally. Your social circle will be filled with good people, very attentive and caring, they will support you during periods when you feel sad and you need support. These people are also very open, communication will be established between you quite easily and quickly, there is a high chance of becoming close friends.

Many of you are going to work hard or study this month, you are full of enthusiasm and ambition, you have probably already set yourself several tasks and goals that you want to accomplish in the near future. Perhaps some of you have set yourself the task of becoming a better person, making a glow-up and changing a lot not only externally, but also internally. There is a risk that in the pursuit of achieving the ideal, you will greatly overdo it and face unpleasant consequences for yourself, at least with burnout and apathy. So the cards remind you again to take care of yourself and act to the best of your ability and strength. Remember that changes come gradually, there is no need to hurry.

Pile 2: In early September teamwork will be important for you. This may apply not only to the work or study area, but also to the family area. Some will have to work on a specific project or work together in order to get everything done by the deadline. The main thing to remember is that you do not need to take on a lot of yourself, it will be appropriate to delegate your responsibilities and rely on the help of other people! This way you can achieve a better result. If we are not talking about work / study, then perhaps you and your family will seriously consider a matter that needs to be approached responsibly, for example, you are planning to repair a house or open a family business (anything can happen here, I'm just giving examples). Based on this, you and your family will really approach this responsibly, plan a budget, discuss your wishes, discuss whether certain things that you would like to buy will be practical and everything in a similar spirit. In any case, the beginning of the month will be filled with discussion with other people and immersion in teamwork.

Also this month, you may expect some kind of deadlock in your relationship with a loved one (it may be your partner or best friend or family member), a conflict situation will occur between you and it will be difficult for one of you to compromise, or none of the proposed solutions to the problem will suit you and then it will be formed this is the dead end. The two of you will worry, you may even distance yourself from each other for a while, you may feel lost, not know what to do. But all conflict and difficult situations not only indicate changes in personal relationships, but also stimulate personal growth, strengthen the inner core. Whatever the outcome of this situation, the most important thing is that you will be able to discover something new that will help you in the future (alternatively, you will feel greatly relieved after this situation, become more open and sincere in expressing your feelings, or your views and some priorities will change, this is no less important and valuable).

The event at the end of September is closely related to what happened at the beginning of the month, namely, you may encounter unforeseen circumstances, force majeure may occur, and this will take you and your colleagues/your loved ones by surprise, which will add even more excitement and stress. The situation between you and other people can become tense, everyone will be on edge and may be angry/annoyed at someone, but most importantly, do not give up what you started halfway. I hasten to please you that everything will end well, you will get the results you need, as you have put a lot of effort into it.

Pile 3: For some, a meeting with old acquaintances/friends will be relevant at the beginning of the month, some of you may also return to your hometown or go to a place that you often visited as a child or teenager. But here the main thing is a kind of reunion with the past. You will feel not only pleasant nostalgia, but also a surge of vitality, your mood will noticeably lift, vitality will increase after this event. You will feel again as if you are living through those days that brought you joy and left pleasant memories in your memory. There is also a chance that a person who was once dear to you and with whom you had a close relationship before will write to you. A dialogue will start between you and there is a high probability that you will start communicating again the same way as before.

This month, the cards warn you about possible financial losses associated with fraud and manipulation, deception by strangers. Moreover, in order not to lose even more of your accumulated money, you will be required to take quick and decisive action, as well as promptly respond to the problem that has arisen. The cards also recommend staying vigilant and attentive, treat strangers with caution and a certain distrust in order to avoid possible problems or at least minimize your losses.

The cards also warn that you may over-idealize the person you like or have recently started dating. This is natural, since you may be going through a period of falling in love, when you still do not notice the flaws in each other and enjoy the time spent together, however, be careful, as you may not notice red flags. This person can also promise you a lot of things, but in fact does not fulfill his promises, they can deceive you or omit some details, give incomplete information about himself. There is a risk of entering into a dependent relationship, so the cards recommend immediately noticing the moments that happened between you and that made you uncomfortable, caused you doubts or made you worry.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 💕

[hygienic-soap-dispenser]

Hws Nordics as University Students Headcanons

Because I am a suffering student and you need to suffer with me <3

Denmark

The clown of the group

Has trouble focusing/paying attention

Will use other Nordics in group study session with the goal of body doubling to keep each other in check and focused, but often devolves to laughing and banter instead

Offers good moral support and asks a lot of questions in class, has great participation marks, but can go off topic

Rallies people to meet when need to discuss group projects, again he is great moral support

When writing he either cannot write anything or speed types and hyperfocuses, no in-between

Appears self-confident and social but can actually struggle with self esteem and seeming like he's incompetent or "too much" for people, tries to compensate by being extra likeable and useful

Bonds with people over humor, socializing and making friends are more important than grades to him

Only chooses classes that interest him, does surprisingly well as a result

The most likely of the Nordics to be late for class

Goes to a lot of college parties

Sweden

The mom of the group, always checking in on people and making sure everyone feels included

Reformed high school bully, but still gossips with Norway about classmates and faculty

Has very high standards for himself and his work, will force people in his group projects to do at least 2 rounds of editing

Can really get in the zone and hyperfocuses when studying, but to do that he needs his noise cancelling headphones, his stim toy, perfect room temperature, comfy study clothes, and his daily ritual to actually start

Refuses to pull all-nighters to finish assignments, sleep is more important to him (king)

Is professional with group projects, is calm and good with delegating work

At the same time, he is very opinionated and loves to debate people in and out of class. Often argues with specific students

Easily overwhelmed from noises, activities, and group projects, needs to find quiet places to hide

Gets good grades, professors either love him or forget he exists

Is part of some interest clubs, like for art and woodworking

Norway

The mysterious hottie who sits in the back of class

Hates group projects, doesn't contribute much to them unless it's with his favourite people (other Nordics, specifically Sweden)

Doesn't contribute much in class, but when he does it is good

The class health nut, goes out for 6 am and 11 pm jogs (he is insane)

Also tbh he gives off the vibe of someone who'd be a health nut but also really into drugs at the same time?? Like he does sports and yoga and tracks his water consumption and macros but at the same time experiments with drugs to "expand his spiritual worldview"?

Is fine with concentration, doesn't really struggle unless there's a lot going on in his head at the time

On that topic, he frequents the counseling and medical clinic. There have been rumors about his frequent medical visits...

His writing is okay, nothing to write home about, but then sometimes can get very poetic and profound, especially when it's a personal topic

Gossips a lot with Sweden, they like to people watch together

Skips a lot of classes, somehow still passes

Finland

Perfectionist and an over-achiever, bases a lot of his self-worth on grades. Will get upset if he gets anything below an A-

Can feel like he's in a competition with classmates for good grades and approval from professors, will ask a lot of questions and tries to start discussions in class

Will talk to the professor right after the end of the 1st class to introduce himself and establish dominance

Tries to humble brag about school and his work ethic by telling classmates how often he crams and pulls all-nighters

Very anxious about grades, always does well (at the cost of his mental health)

Mostly sustains himself on energy drinks and coffee

Doesn't like group projects because he thinks no one else cares about doing well as much as he does

This isn't helped by the fact that he has trust issues and thinks others will let him down

Frequents the counseling center and medical clinic on campus. The former because of stress and trauma which worsens school stress, the latter because of medical issues as a result of said stress

Professors either love him or hate him

Despite how he acts in class he's actually a people-pleaser, but his over-achieving nature can be hard to deal with

Goes to the campus gym at least once a week to lift weights, probably part of the school hockey club

If he survives, will pursue graduate school

Iceland

The freshman, trying to figure things out

Thinks that because he did well in high school he'll have an easy time in university (he won't and will be humbled)

Sits in the back of class but secretly wants to sit up front with the "nerds", doesn't want to risk making a fool of himself

Overanalyzes group projects and panics. Double/triple checks his work before sending in his contributions because he wants to seem competent in their eyes

Usually reserved but once he opens up will say the most out of pocket things, sometimes it slips in his quiet phase

Surprisingly, is among the worst of the Nordics in terms of grades. This is mainly because he is unconfident in his own work and views, so he often ends up self-sabotaging his work or doing the bare minimum

His friends are his main priority in school, not grades

Like Fin, is a people-pleaser. Unlike Fin, he is easy to get along with

[cloudedmoonofficial]

what is an envoy in comparison to a ranger? i mean if all the jobs could be explained, that’d be lovely! otherwise just those two work haha

An Envoy is like middle management. They are higher ranking than others due to their leadership training.

An envoy is usually a stand out individual who is asked to take a position of power and take part in the Council. They are the pool of cats that a new Second in Command will be chosen from. Not everyone who is asked to be an envoy has to accept the position though. Envoys work closely with the Captain and Second to delegate tasks and are defacto leaders if the Captain or Second is not around.

A Ranger is really just a hunter and scout, some are better at running messages between colonies and some are better at base defense. They are a colony's eyes and ears. Obviously all cats have hunting instincts, but Rangers hunt as part of their job for the colony. They range.

Mentors are those who are trained and are particularly good at teaching. A Ranger may be asked to teach a New-Claw under the guidance of the Mentors, but it is a Mentors job to oversee the training. This serves multiple purposes: It means all cats receive adequate training, non-Mentors get the opportunity to refresh their skills or prove their own leadership qualities, and Colony teaching techniques get passed along from Mentor to Mentor so that knowledge isn't lost from generation to generation. Mentors are the ultimate authority on training, workouts, and technique.

Keepers are crafters, builders and "Keepers" of the colony's kittens. They can hunt and range if they want to, but most prefer to stay at base and tend to their projects. When they do leave base, it's typically to take a few Rangers with them to gather materials. They make useful items, like satchels and nets or recreational items, like flower crowns for ceremonies or toys for kittens. They are also in charge of the base-training of kittens; these are all Colony specific skills, like Oak Colony cliff climbing or River Colony swimming and all Keepers are expected to learn their colony's history and stories, and pass those onto kittens.

Herbalists are traditionally healers or plant specialists in charge of the colony's apothecary or healers den and the supplies there in. Some colonies' Herbalists are more spiritual than others, like Mistysnow, and take part in the council; some, like Wrensong, just like growing plants and preparing them.

-Snap

[missyblogs]

It is I your resident fictional character lover here to populate the tags with more takes bc ya girlie has A Problem today I offer:

Sportacus and physical affection!

adapted from some writing I've been doing, based my reading of the character from some of season one, some info from a podcast episode, and a little projection on my part so shhhh -It has been said that he's a words guy but he adapts easily to other love languages and especially uses touch to communicate. If you celebrate a victory expect him to pick you up and twirl you -His skin is so soft. There is not a single greasy spot, not a single rough patch. Nuzzling him is like cuddling a baby. -Are you coping with a rough past? Do you have a body that tells on you for eating giant slices of cake every day? Good news! Sporty doesn't care. He will willingly touch your rolls, moles, stretch marks, and scars and handle them all with the upmost reverence because they're what make you you! He loves every bit o' you -He will tickle you with his mustache. This will sometimes be intentional -He is a big spoon, he LIVES for holding his partner like a cherished stuffie -Don't like making the first move or initiating contact? Not comfy leading in ballroom dance? Sportacus is a natural born leader himself who loves to woo his partner with his strength and confidence. He's especially fond of taking charge so once he's made sure this is what you want he is HOLDING that HAND and you are getting DIPPED -Do you need to make the first move or initiate contact? Not comfy following in ballroom dance? As a natural born leader, Sportacus also knows the importance of delegating responsibility. He is patient and easily adaptable and more than comfortable being the one dipped on the dance floor. He won't be taken aback if you give him the first smorch. He lu <3

-Speaking of, his partner being comfortable means the world to the hero. Expect him to pad you heavily with pillows if you wanna spend some time on floors and shift his own body to make sure you can breathe and that your ribs aren't popping and that the circulation to your arm isn't being cut off. No it does not matter how much you weigh, if you're most comfy using him as a pillow you will not hurt him. This is Sportacus we're talking about guys c'mon -Because that head is shielded by that infernal cap of his, his scalp is veeeery sensitive from the lack of contact. He will melt like putty when you run your hands through his hair -Sitting down is kinda boring... but not with you! Cuddling with his favorite person provides Sportacus with PLENTY of stimulation. He will never get tired of you he promise <3 -Emotional comfort is just as important! If you have intrusive thoughts about people who didn't touch you kindly, are afraid it might happen to you, or want to be eased into the world of physical contact due to sensory issues with someone you trust, he will reassure as many times as you need that you are safe and he will never be those people, offer arms/hands for chewing on, and take it as slow or as fast as you want. He loves you and not getting to touch your hair or smth isn't at all a dealbreaker

- Because he is very active his blood circulation is very good and he is usually warm to the touch, perfect for partners who need a lil extra! - Because he is very active, his own body is well padded and comfy. Those muscles were MADE for hugging baybey~

[quilloleander]

Hide and Seek Gone Wrong

Prompt: Maybe something where baby Megatron gets lost and the high guard panics to find him?

This is part of the High Guard + Sparkling Megatron One-Shot Book I promised to make.

In which the seekers can't seek shit /j

No, I'm joking sorry this is actually kinda angsty because after writing the last chapter my mind decided "okay, no more crack, time to write pain lmao."

But yeah, I only used the Trine Seekers for this one because I like them and wanted to write about them skskks

Soundwave does make a little appearance though at the end

Thank you to Stupid_creature for the request!

Ao3 Link:

================================================

Starscream tries not to put the blame on any of the High Guard whenever a mission goes awry. As a commander, he has learned that even if it were not his fault, it still fell on him as the leader and that it did not matter who had caused the problem. 

His army, his responsibility.

It was a lesson he had to painfully learn when he had risen through the ranks of the High Guard. The former commander and Megatronus Prime had drilled it into his stubborn processor until he was certain that it was part of his code now.

Still, it was solar cycles such as these where he wished to blame Skywarp because it WAS Skywarp’s fault and it only took the power of their bond for Starscream NOT to strangle the purple seeker for losing Megatron somewhere outside the High Guard base.

He wanted to scream at Skywarp, yet that could wait until they found the sparkling.

Besides, he could tell from the bad jokes that Skywarp was spouting that he already felt bad. Starscream had warned him it was dangerous to take the sparkling out of the base, yet in classic Skywarp fashion, he didn’t listen.

It took all his training to restrain the part of his coding that wanted to tear the entire base apart and instead put all his processing power into delegating the rest of the High Guard into search teams, as was the procedure when one of their members was lost somewhere on Cybertron’s surface.

He tried not to think of the deadline that was part of the procedure. They could not afford to spend their resources searching for one mech - if a High Guard was lost for more than one solar cycle, then they had to be considered missing in action.

Starscream wasn’t sure if that applied to a sparkling, yet he’ll cross that bridge when it came to it - he could be diplomatic, if the rest of the High Guard wanted to find Megatron, they could put in their vote. Starscream absolutely did not care. It would be a waste of resources, after all, which they cannot afford to do during an energon drought. 

He still wanted to strangle Skywarp but that had nothing to do with his non-existent worry over where Megatron could have ended up.

The surface was dangerous, even for a military mech… much less a sparkling.

Still, he had a duty to uphold as the leader. They needed to dethrone Sentinel and free Iacon from his rule. If they lost the sparkling on the surface and they couldn’t find him within the solar cycle, then that was that. He can’t put more attention to it. 

If Megatron was lost, then he was lost. Another soldier that the High Guard would have lost to the cruelties of the surface of Cybertron. 

It happens.

It was their way of life now.

He was not worried.

This wouldn’t be the first life weighing heavily against his spark, after all.

—

“I think he’s going to actually offline you after this.” Thundercracker murmured softly, turning his helm left to right as he watched Starscream repeatedly fly overhead in his alt form. He’d been down the same route for the past joor or so, and he could tell from how fast the other mech was going, that he was extremely frantic even if he had tried to keep his face from showing his panic when he had delegated them their tasks. “I haven’t seen him this frantic since the time we tried out for the High Guard. Skywarp, you really shouldn’t have—”

“I know!” The purple seeker yelled out, attracting the attention of a few High Guard members nearby. Thundercracker waved them off, pulling Skywarp aside until they were both near the base again. “I don’t think, I know! I know! He was in my arms, I swear! One moment he was there and the next he was gone!”

Despite the dumb cheerfulness that Skywarp usually displayed, Thundercracker of all mechs knew how serious the purple seeker could be. He enjoyed his silly pranks and tricks, but he didn’t actually want to cause harm. That’s what made this whole situation even worse.

He was worried.

Yet when it came to his trinemates, Thundercracker knew better than to lose his processor. Starscream would bottle his emotions until he inevitably self-destructed from it, which meant Thundercracker had to keep an optic on him. Skywarp, on the other servo, would try to joke his way out of the problem until the guilt consumed him which never ended well.

He needed to keep calm, because if he didn’t, their trine would fall apart.

They couldn’t afford that.

He couldn’t afford that.

“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen, Sky. I know.” He said kindly.

“It was a game! It was always meant to be a game! I didn’t think there would be consequences!” Skywarp waved his arms around, his voice displaying the growing panic that had already been there since he’d had no choice but to admit what had happened. Thundercracker couldn’t even begin to think of how long Skywarp must have spent on his own combing around the outside of the base trying to look for the sparkling before he’d finally given up and confessed to Starscream. “My warping abilities… it’s… I should have just gone to Shockwave. This can’t happen again, I—”

“It won’t be like last time, Sky.” He placed a servo on his trine mate’s shoulder pad. Once Skywarp starts to panic, it would be difficult to get him to calm down again. “We’ll keep searching, he couldn’t have disappeared too far from the base.”

“Y-yeah.” He heard the other let out a quick series of vents, gripping at his chassis. Even underneath the yellow visors, he could almost see the other’s frantic optics as he looked around, as if somehow the sparkling would appear.

For the sake of his trine’s sanity, he did hope they find the sparkling soon.

—

Skywarp kicked a pebble away from him, unsure if he should transform and search in the skies or continue his search on the ground. If Thundercracker could hear the thoughts in his processor, he’d probably make fun of him for even thinking that searching on the ground was an option. 

‘Why search like a grounder when we can fly?’

He could hear his voice even if the other seeker wasn’t there. 

But he didn’t want to keep searching in the skies. 

And he didn’t want to run into Starscream while he was up there.

The blame would be too much.

—

The moon had already risen over the surface of Cybertron by the time they found Megatron… who hadn’t been outside the base.

It took Soundwave having to wrangle Starscream back inside and point out Megatron sitting near the throne with an energon cube in his servos for everyone to calm down as they realized the sparkling had never been in danger at all. 

When Skywarp had warped back inside his quarters, Megatron had teleported with him, he just didn’t realize because the sparkling had quickly jumped out of his arms and hidden underneath one of the berths to hide again.

Starscream hadn’t wasted another klik before he walked over to the unassuming sparkling, yellow optics blinking up at him innocently as if he hadn’t just removed cycles from Starscream’s lifespan.

If Megatron had been another lost soldier, he would have sent him immediately to Shockwave for repairs and assessment while also following so he could lecture them for getting lost.

As many of the High Guard would claim, this was how Starscream showed his worry and gratefulness that you had returned alive.

Instead, he broke the usual protocol and only kneeled down so he was staring directly into Megatron’s optics.

“You brat.” Starscream placed a servo against his optics, keeping them hidden from everyone in case they thought he was going soft. Blindly, he grabbed the sparkling and dragged him into his arms.

The little nuisance had the gall to beep happily at him as if he hadn’t been missing for an entire solar cycle.

Starscream didn’t cry.

No, that would be too much to ask of him.

But both Thundercracker and Skywarp knew how deeply relieved Starscream was from the way his wings curled up around himself and Megatron.

His wings always did show his truest self to them.

[its-not-a-pen]

—Terracotta—

Ok so I visited xi'an during my trip back to china (3 months ago?), and this idea popped into my head during the 9h train ride back to shangdong. I am of course 100% projecting my own love of the terracotta army onto Qin Shi Huang, in reality he did not care for this pit of mud statues depicting lowly commoners. In fact, no one ever bothered to write about it and they were lost to history until 1974 when some farmers digging a well stumbled upon them. But it's exactly the reason I'm so fascinated by them. QSH's tomb has not been excavated, and although I have a running joke about cracking it open--mercury vapors be damned--none of the riches inside will ever enchant me as much as the chance to see the face of a person who lived during this time.

Notes under the cut:

#1

the title Qin Shi Huangdi means "First Emperor of Qin" and was given to QSH by later historians. He actually called himself the Shi Huangdi, "First Emperor", and that is the title I've gone with here.

in English the other kingdoms are translated as "states" (i guess to avoid confusion?) but in chinese they are very much kingdoms.

The terracotta warriors used thousands of craftsmen, many of whom were slaves from conquered kingdoms. From a storytelling perspective I thought it would be more streamlined if there were two main artisans who reported directly to QSH.

QSH's clothes are based on the overly complicated courtly regalia. which has 12 symbols that only the emperor is allowed to wear

Notice how this hat is ROUND at the front??? Well I CERTAINLY DIDN'T. HAD TO REDRAW IT!!!!!

the stripped shirt is based on this Chu woman figurine. Clothes were fairly unisex during this time and I thought it was a nice fit.

#2

Paperwork: writing was done on books made of bamboo slips. Anecdotally, QSH had an impressive work ethic and would read 100 bills every night.

Bronze Goose lamp: ok this is actually a Han dynasty lamp pls forgive me. I saw this bad boy at the xi'an history museum and it's bewitched me body and soul. The goose neck is hollow and connects to a reservoir of water in the belly, which minimizes smoke and cools the lamp.

QSH is remembered as a brutal tyrant and brilliant statesman, but I wanted to present a more human version of him here. Bored, tired and drowning in work he refuses to delegate. His new empire is balanced as precariously as everything else on his desk.

#3

The attendants standing behind him are holding little wood tablets called hu for taking notes. Their brushes are tucked into their hats/hair, inspired by Han dynasty custom. (You'll see me using Han stuff a lot. Their cultures were very similar to Qin, since it was only a few hundred years apart).

So I had a slight breakdown trying to find the correct hats for the eunuchs, and ended up redrawing everything the night I was due to publish. Closest thing I could come up with was a reference to a round-style Han Dynasty hat which evolved into this square Jin hat. Yes, this is a cry for help .

#4

the wheeled platform is 100% made up, I tried to come up with a plausible way of getting a bunch of figurines into the palace.

#5 & #6

Painted terracotta soldier

How were the terracotta warriors made

The General: Fun fact, I got to see this guy in person!

#7

The Epic Wide Shot was inspired by some Tang Dynasty terracotta figures I saw at the xi'an museum!

#8

THIS KNEELING ARCHER. ARGGGGG. He use to be my favourite guy. I even went into the pit and drew him IN PERSON. the archers inexplicably have their hair buns on the OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE HEAD. So because of him, I DREW ALL THE HAIR BUNS WRONG!!!! REDRAW!!!! PAIN AND SUFFERING!!!!

#10

Qin was famous for it's very long, thin swords. They were more useful as status symbols than actual weapons, as QSH knows from personal experience…

#11

QSH'S Tomb hasn't been excavated yet, but high levels of mercury have been detected in the soil, making the historical accounts of quite plausible.

[thetimesofindia]

In battle of the delegations, real story lies in what went unsaid

Following a military clash, Indian and Pakistani delegations engaged in a diplomatic duel in global capitals, particularly London. India, emphasizing cross-border terrorism as a policy response, sought international understanding, while Pakistan pushed for dialogue and highlighted Kashmir. Both sides faced scrutiny and inconsistencies in their narratives.

In the aftermath of their recent military clash, rival delegations from Delhi and Islamabad converged on various global capitals, each aiming to shape elite opinion, win sympathy, and control the post-crisis narrative. Having witnessed some of the exchanges in London firsthand, the diplomatic duel across briefing rooms, think tanks, and diaspora events was as revealing for what was unsaid as for what was spoken.Messaging starts with messengersThe difference in delegation profiles was notable. India’s all-party parliamentary mission carried symbolic weight and cross-party legitimacy, including senior figures like Ravi Shankar Prasad and Pankaj Saran. Pakistan’s team leaned more on technocrats and veteran advocates of global engagement, such as Sherry Rehman and Bilawal Bhutto Zardari. India’s group projected cohesion and resolve; Pakistan’s aimed to influence narratives and broaden appeal.India’s cautious caseIndia’s delegation framed Operation Sindoor as part of a broader shift: limited cross-border retaliation to terrorist acts as policy, not aberration. They emphasized terrorism as a global threat whose response merits international understanding—not moral equivalence. The delegation linked India’s counterterrorism struggle to challenges faced by Western democracies, with Pakistan as a common denominator.In my observation, Indian representatives appeared quietly frustrated that while many countries expressed sympathy after Pahalgam and tacitly accepted India’s right to act, few explicitly condemned Pakistan. Though confident in their message, their delivery often felt restrained. In think tanks, the tone was formal, even stiff; diaspora engagements were reportedly more fiery.Though most accepted the delegation’s basic premise, some observers noted the irony in Delhi resisting calls to frame Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as a shared threat but now seeking solidarity on Pakistani-based terrorism.Crucially, the delegation faltered when pressed on domestic radicalization. Two of the Pahalgam suspects were reportedly Indian nationals. Asked how New Delhi planned to prevent disillusionment turning to violence, the only response was that “things today are better than in the 1990s.” This was a missed chance to demonstrate nuanced understanding of the challenge.Other inconsistencies emerged. India’s representatives rejected “re-hyphenation” with Pakistan, yet much of their messaging focused on Islamabad. While stressing the quarrel was with Pakistan’s military, not its people, questions about suspending the Indus Waters Treaty complicated that distinction.Many briefings took place inside the High Commission, with diaspora members complaining to me that they thought too much political outreach was aimed at UK politicians of Indian heritage. Playing it safe has a certain logic, but may have limited engagement with new or skeptical audiences.

Pak’s polished—but problematic—pitch

If India played it safe, Pakistan opted for smooth. Their delegation turned up at major think tanks eager to engage and keen to appear misunderstood. With assistance from lobbying professionals, their narrative was tightly crafted for European audiences: Pakistan sought peace through dialogue, emphasising Kashmir as the “unfinished legacy of Partition,” terrorism, and water. Pakistan said it wanted talks, a neutral investigation into Pahalgam, and accused India of refusing cooperation or prove culpability.This narrative of peace sat uneasily beside claims of military success and personal attacks on Indian leaders. Critique of Indian media spin might have bolstered believability had it not been accompanied by other factual distortions: legal sleight-of-hand over Kashmir, misreadings of UN resolutions, and claims that India admitted culpability for terrorism in Balochistan.The most convincing moment came on the Indus Waters Treaty, where the stark picture painted of the consequences struck a chord, even if significant action has yet to follow.A key question remains: what was the objective? If persuasion abroad was the objective, the reliance on longstanding misrepresentations made it a difficult sell to informed audiences. If the goal was domestic signaling, that focus likely came at the expense of deeper foreign engagement.

Simpler sell, harder ask

Ultimately, the Indian delegation framed all terrorism as emanating from Pakistan; Pakistan framed it as emerging from Kashmir. The narratives didn’t just clash—they barely shared the same terms of reference. As performative exercises providing content for domestic media, both probably succeeded on their own terms.In the battle to move international opinion, outcomes were uneven. India may have achieved more, but it also had the easier task — framing terrorism as a universal threat aligns with European security narratives. Pakistan, by contrast, asked outside actors to invest political capital in corralling New Delhi back to the negotiating table — a much harder sell. Yet neither side escaped contradiction. India’s claim to strategic clarity was weakened by deflection on domestic aspects of terrorism in Kashmir. Pakistan’s message of peace was blunted by triumphalism and tired tropes.In diplomacy, silence often speaks louder than words. In London last week, the most telling signals were what each side omitted, ignored, or performed for the audience they believed mattered most.Ladwig III is a senior lecturer at the department of War Studies, King’s College London

[porterdavis]

[I hope this isn't pay-walled...]

[[I don't...um...see pay-walls]]

"Sometimes a constitutional crisis sneaks up on you, shrouded in darkness, revealing itself gradually. Other times it announces itself dramatically. Elon Musk, to whom Donald Trump has delegated the task of neutering the congressional spending authority laid out in Article I of the Constitution, could hardly be more obvious about his intentions if he rode into Washington on a horse trailed by Roman legions.

“This is the one shot the American people have to defeat BUREAUcracy, rule of the bureaucrats, and restore DEMOcracy, rule of the people,” Musk wrote at 3:59 a.m. today on his social-media platform. “We’re never going to get another chance like this. It’s now or never. Your support is crucial to the success of the revolution of the people.” Here is Musk, as proxy for Trump, casting himself as a revolutionary force and embodiment of the popular will, demanding extraordinary powers to fight some unstated emergency.

Why, exactly, is eliminating these programs right this very instant so important? If, as Musk says, they are teeming with waste and fraud, presumably Congress could pass legislation to reduce or eliminate the problem, and if that were to fall short, it could try again later. Instead, Musk cites a vague crisis that requires suspending normal operations and concentrating power in his own hands. According to various reports, he is holed up in the Eisenhower Building with a small team of young engineers who possess neither government experience nor the authority to question his impulsive judgments, on the hunt for Marxist plots lurking within long-standing federal programs.

The situation exposes a well-known flaw in the design of the Constitution. The Founders, famously, failed to anticipate the rise of political parties. They assumed that each branch of government would jealously guard its own powers, and thus check the others. But political parties created a different incentive system, in which members of the legislative branch can see their role as essentially employees of the president. Trump, who has convinced the Republican base that his interests are indistinguishable from the party’s and transposed his overbearing Apprentice boss persona onto his relations with co-partisans in Congress, is exploiting these incentives more than any other president in history.

In theory, Congress ought to revolt against the prospect of Musk deciding which federal programs should live and which should die. In reality, its members largely share Trump’s goals—and to the extent that they don’t, they correctly fear that opposing him would invite a primary challenge. What’s more, this particular constitutional crisis has an inherent partisan asymmetry. If Trump and Musk succeed in taking the power of the purse from Congress, they will effectively reset the rules of the game in favor of the right. Congress’s spending powers would be redefined as setting a ceiling on spending, but not a floor. A world in which the president could cut spending without exposing Congress to accountability would hand small-government conservatives the opportunity to carry out policies they’ve long desired but been too afraid to vote for.

And so, although a handful of conservative intellectuals, including the budget wonk Brian Riedl of the Manhattan Institute and the law professor and former Bush-administration lawyer Jack Goldsmith, have described Musk’s ambitions as unconstitutional, most of the establishment right has cheered him on or stayed quiet. Senator Thom Tillis of North Carolina conceded that Musk’s project might not be strictly constitutional, but nonetheless told the news site NOTUS that “nobody should bellyache about that.”

Making things even more disturbing is the chaotic legal gray area in which Musk is operating. Musk and his team are working in secret, without hearings or public debate. According to Wired, they gained access to the Treasury Department’s federal payment system, shoving aside the long-time staffer overseeing it and ignoring its safety protocols. Democrats suspect that Musk is breaching numerous federal laws, but without any oversight, it is hard to tell precisely what he is doing. In any case, Musk might not have much reason to care about following the law. Trump has already made plain, by issuing mass pardons and commutations for the January 6 insurrectionists, that he will protect illegal conduct on his behalf.

Meanwhile, Musk has adopted Trump’s habit of deeming opposition to his actions inherently criminal. He has called the United States Agency for International Development, a decades-old program with support in both parties, a “criminal organization.” After an X user posted the names of the young engineers working with Musk, previously reported by Wired, he responded, “You have committed a crime.” The X user’s account has since been suspended.

Reporting on the identities of powerful public officials is, in fact, not a crime—even, or especially, if those officials have assumed public powers without going through formal channels. Musk has nonetheless gotten backup for his threats from Edward R. Martin Jr., a former “Stop the Steal” organizer whom Trump installed as U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia. In a vague but menacing message posted (naturally) on X, Martin warned that “certain individuals and/or groups have committed acts that appear to violate the law in targeting DOGE employees.” Martin declined to identify either the individuals or the laws they’d allegedly broken, nor did he acknowledge that reporting about or criticizing Musk’s work constitutes First Amendment–protected activity. Whether Martin acts upon these threats remains to be seen. In the meantime, however, he is contributing to the atmosphere of menace surrounding Trump and Musk by delivering their threats with a legal sheen, like some kind of MAGA Tom Hagen.

Read: The ‘rapid unscheduled disassembly’ of the United States government

The courts will have the final say over Trump’s audacious power grab. In all likelihood, they will affirm congressional authority to set spending levels authorized by the Constitution. But the Constitution ultimately means whatever five Supreme Court justices say it means. The Court’s more conservative justices often apply the most right-wing interpretation of the text they can plausibly defend, and occasionally one they can’t plausibly defend.

What’s more, Musk seems to have intuited that he can destroy programs and bureaucratic cultures faster than the system can restore them. Firing officials en masse, throwing the people and clients that rely on those programs into confusion and financial risk, and striking fear into the whole federal apparatus can break down the institutions and destroy their institutional knowledge. Rebuilding is painfully slow; destruction is rapid. This may be the dynamic Musk has in mind when he insists that his work must happen “now or never.”

Not even the most committed small-government-conservative lawmaker would design a process like the one now occurring: a handful of political novices, many of them drinking deep from the fetid waters of right-wing conspiracy theorizing, tearing through the federal budget, making haphazard decisions about what to scrap. And indeed, no elected body has designed this process. Trump and Musk have arrogated the power to themselves. The true urgent cause is to return that power to the legislature before the damage becomes irreversible.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Project: Eros

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Synthezoid!Reader

Synopsis: It does not feel the same without your wings and halo and you turn to science to help you gain them back. But despite your angelic appearance, you find yourself allured by the weakness and carnality of the flesh.

Warning: Innuendos, manhandling, size kink, virgin reader, explicit smut, unprotected smut, belly bulging, wing pulling, creampie

Word Count: 5435

3 of 3

It was not difficult for you to fit into the Spider Society.  Usually, you spend your day beside Miguel, aiding him in delegating tasks to the spider recruits.  Sometimes, you would just go around the HQ, chatting and meeting new people. 

But something else has been taking your time as of lately.

Somehow it just doesn’t feel right to you that your wings and halo are both missing.  You felt utterly bare without them and you often found yourself substituting their absence with an obnoxious feather coat that Lyla chose personally.  She said that you too should have a coat like her and you were just happy to accept it as it was very warm and comfortable. 

Lyla was enthusiastic in volunteering to create the devices for you but you wanted to at least design them out, starting from the type of material to use.

You were thinking that the molecules to build the feathers could be made from keratin-based nanofibers.  That would mimic the characteristics of real wings.  It would be durable and hydrophobic, which will ensure that you will not fall to your death despite any weather.

When you told Miguel that you wanted to have the wing socket implanted on your back, he was rather skeptical, telling you that it would be dangerous to have such a large target attached to you.

“Miguel, if you lost an arm, would you want a cybernetic implant like the Winter Soldier or would you settle for a retractable blade like Razor Fist?”  You glared at him hard.  “Both would work fine in battle but it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

Lyla stops whatever she’s doing and stares at Miguel critically.

He grumbles his reply and just reaches for the tape measure lying around on the table he’s leaning on.  “Alright, but I’ll be leading the team.”  He twirls his finger.  “Turn around for me.”

You grin at Lyla who resumes her work with an amused smile.

Besides, you are not automatically going to become a battle type synthezoid like J.A.R.V.I.S. Vision.  You would rather help Miguel through an earpiece.  You can barely lift a liter of bottled water for five minutes, what makes you think that you’ll be able to throw a proper punch?

Perhaps you’ll get there but you’d rather work behind screens for now.

Giddily, you do as Miguel says and you show him your back.

“Drop the coat.”  He grunts.  “Honestly, you look like an oversized flamingo in this.”

“Hey!”  Lyla yells but she gets ignored.

You try not to squirm away from Miguel’s touch as his fingers brushed against your skin, the cold tape measure being pressed flat on your skin that was exposed in your sundress and Miguel hums.

“Alright, I have a couple ideas how we could make the wings lighter.  We could attach it just below your scapula.  I don’t want to touch your spine as much as possible so we could perhaps sit them a few millimeters away on each side of your lumbar vertebrae.”  His finger brushes down to the said location and you can’t help the chills that ran through you.

Miguel seems to notice and his eyes dart to the back of your head.  “We could attach it to multiple ribs to support the weight.”  He runs his finger on your back, his finger digging to the cotton sundress he bought for you.  Another shiver and this time, he did not miss it as he was already waiting for it.

You gasp when two strong hands slammed on your waist.  Immediately, you were squirming, trying to get out of his hold.

“I knew it.”  He rasps.  “You’re ticklish.”

“No!”  It came out as a squeal when Miguel wriggled his fingers on your side.  “Stop it!”  Your eyes fill with tiny tears as uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of you.

A call on Lyla’s screen stole Miguel’s attention and you collapsed to his forearm that he used to cage around your midriff.

“It’s a call from Earth-199999.”  Lyla beams at you.  “Heya, Peter!”

Peter was shown on the screen, not in his suit but a plain tee and flannel.  “I figured out the mechanism of the cas- 3D printer.  I also broke down the organic fibers used in Y/N’s musculature.  I could send it to you now.”  Loud clacking was heard from Peter’s end and a small box appeared on Lyla’s screen.

“Got it.  Thanks, Peter!  This is a ton of help.”  Lyla waves at him and the screen shuts off.

You finally got out of Miguel’s hold and you picked up the coat.

“How does it look, Lyla?  You think we could bond it to keratin?”  Miguel asks.

Lyla rubs her chin and opens more screens.  He glowing hands dancing in the air, creating and breaking molecular bond structures.  “If we put this here, and replace this with that…Pretty sure we can do it.”

You cheer.  “And how soon can we do the implant?”  You ignore Miguel’s disapproving look.

“We have to start from scratch and grow the material ourselves.  We could perhaps harvest after four days.  Then we have to assemble the wings from the bones to the epidermis.”  Lyla scratches her head, processing the data.  “With the team we have, that could take two whole days.”

“Make it three.”  Miguel says.  “I’ll be the one to put it together.  No one else.  I want it to be as precise as possible.”  He turns to you.  “You’ll be able to wait that long, won’t you, firefly?”

Aware that it was more of a rhetorical question, you simply nod at him.

“And my halo?”  You ask with your eyes wide and expectant.  “You’ll let me help design it, right?”

Miguel simply nods.  “We can work on it after dinner.”  A loud beeping from his device told you that he’s once again needed by the spiderverse.

He excuses himself as you stay and help Lyla around in preparing the materials.

“Wow, I never heard him say something so healthy for a long time.”  Lyla hums as she glitches from one of her screens to the other.  “He almost didn’t take proper meals and would rather nap in his office before working again.”

You tut disapprovingly, slipping on a pair of protective gloves and safety goggles.

“If he keeps on doing that, he’d drop dead by 40.”  You say as you pour a murky solution in a separatory funnel to separate the protein biopolymers that you need.

“Maybe even sooner.”  Lyla replies, half joking.  “But he looks more rested since you arrived.”

You smile at her bashfully.  “I’m glad to hear that but I’d also hate to get in the way of his work.”

Lyla waves at you dismissively.  “Don’t worry!  I developed a program to create better roster depending on the availability of the spiders to give Miguel more time with you.”  She glitches right in front of you and shows a pixelated clipboard that shows the statistics.  “It’s been a week since you arrived and I have been running this since and so far, everything is going so well.”

You squint at the data, more and more impressed the longer you stare at it.  “That’s really efficient of you, Lyla.”

She spins the clipboard before it vanishes, smirking proudly.  “It’s in our code.” 

Working side by side with Lyla felt like the most natural thing to do, a synergy being created with your dynamics.

Meows Morales and Spider-Guin dropped by to have Guin’s suit repaired in the lab next to you and they hang around your lab for the meantime.

The purring of Meows Morales might have been the cutest thing you saw so far since you are brought in the physical world.

Both of them fell asleep on your lap as you tried to design a device that could project a halo.

Before taking the train to snoozeville, Meows randomly asked why you’d stop at that when you can use it as a hoop or further manipulate it into any badass weapon.

It was not a bad concept, although it sounds exactly like a bona fide Meows Morales idea. 

You told Miguel about it and he considers it while chewing on tuna, you’re starting to introduce proteins in your diet now.

“I suppose it could be helpful.”  He swallows.  “But that would only encourage you to do crime fighting—which I will never allow, by the way—so no.”

You only shrug as you chew on peas.  “Maybe one day, when my muscles are strong and coordinated enough.”

Miguel dismisses it quickly and you just let him win.  He did such a good job in cooking dinner, you just had to concede.

The topmost part of the building was a private floor for Miguel.  Well, Miguel and you now.

You tried to convince him to let you sleep on the pods that took inspiration from Tokyo’s capsule hotels.  It’s a space where thousands of spider-people could crash for a night or two but as you are staying longer than a couple nights, Miguel offers the extra room in his private floor.

The rest of the days were a blur. 

As Miguel made your wings in the lab, you had to spend your days in the gym, just next to the training grounds.  You wanted to be involved in making your wings but Miguel thinks it was more important for you to build muscle strength and endurance at the moment.

If your back is too weak, you would be slouching under the weight of the wings that have an expanse of five meters.  Originally, it was supposed to be bigger to carry your weight but Miguel made modifications that will make the material lighter and more aerodynamic so it’d really work despite the smaller size.

It was finally time to surgically attach the wings on your back and Dr. Stephen Strange’s skills were once again needed.

Miguel reassures him that the Spider Society will watch over his universe for the rest of the surgery.  Strange wasn’t easily persuaded.  He was rather skeptical and Miguel’s hostility towards him wasn’t helping either but when spider-people started filling the sanctum to protect Earth-199999 upon Miguel’s order, he was reassured to certain levels.

The operation concerns multiple bone, nerve, and tissue alignment, something that Stephen should have been familiar with, had it not been enormous wings that needed to be attached to your back.

Nevertheless, the team succeeded.  The sixteen-hour operation went so well that they had to do a couple reality checks to see that what they just accomplished was really real.

You had to stay in bed for another week to allow your stitches to heal.

During that time, Miguel was able to give you the device that projects your halo, it came in the form of a heavily bejeweled barrette.  You adored the device which looked more like a jewelry to you.

When you took your first step with the additional weight on your back, Miguel was by your side, ready to catch you as you held on to the parallel bars that helped you regain your balance and coordination.

After that, you are back in the gym to continue building overall strength.  You’d hate to have a bad gait and just let the beautiful individually created feathers drag on the floor as you walked.  They’d eventually get dirty and damaged.

Your body has healed and your latissimus dorsi and trapezius are used to the wings’ weight that you unconsciously lift them in the air and curl them around yourself when accidental explosions from the other labs startle you.

When you flapped your enormous wings and perched yourself on Miguel’s shoulder after a lizard slithered itself on the hallway outside of Miguel’s office, he knew you were ready to attempt your first flight.

Miguel stood next to you in the training area, on an elevated block that resembled a building.  There’s a lot of it in the area and they’re meant to let the new spiders get the hang of swinging around downtown. 

But you’re not exactly going to swing through them, you’ll be jumping off them and hopefully you will not crash and literally break a leg.  Although you doubt Miguel will ever let that happen.

“Go on.”  He tells you when you kneel on the edge to look down at the sheer drop.  “I’ll be watching, don’t worry.”

“Don’t save me too soon though.”  You say as you stand up and brush the dust off your knee.

He just nods, watching you breathe deeply.

“Don’t be scared.” 

“It’s impossible not to!”  You whine.

‘’But do it anyway.”  He crosses his arms, watching you stall around, fixing your flowy dress, preening your wings with your shaking hands.  “Just jump!”

“Alright, alright!” 

You can feel the rush of your blood, making your entire body hot, and your heart, it’s beating erratically.

“You look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”  Miguel comments, flatly.

Just to spite him, you throw yourself on the edge.  You weren’t really prepared yet, were you?  But of course, you’re too stubborn to admit that to him.

You open up your wings and the resistance to air is so dramatic that your breath hitches upon impact, you are still descending but slower.  Your fist clenched as you flapped your wings until your feet were safely planted on the ground.

There’s a soft thud behind you.  But you did not get to turn your head when two large hands wrapped around your waist and your feet left the ground once more as you were twirled around by an excited looking Miguel.

“You did so well!  And on your first try too.”  He laughed and you can’t help but laugh along with him.

His eyes crinkled as he grinned stupidly at you.  The light from the setting sun shone brightly behind you, making your halo glint and you, you look more angelic than ever.  He clears his throat and he sets you back down to stand on your own feet.

“I wanna go again!”  You cheer.

Miguel allowed you a few more times and with every try, you were able to get better and better.  On the last one, you soared through the air and land safely on another building.

“Did you see how I stuck that landing?”  You asked Miguel again for what seemed like the third time that night.

He wipes the sheen from the steak he had just eaten from his lips and nods at you.  “It was absolute perfection, firefly.”  He sips on the wine, amused at how you suddenly turn bashful, smiling down at your own plate as you push a sautéed mushroom.

“You really think so?”

Miguel pressed his lips to a thin line as you bat your eyes at him. 

What exactly are you doing?  Is this a deliberate attempt to stir him up?  Or are you doing this without even noticing the effect you had on him?

“I know so, mi princesa.”

Your eyes go round at the nickname, your movement turns more skittish as you play with the halo device that you put atop the table, giving your head a brief rest from its weight.

It has become a routine for you to clean up the table as it was Miguel who cooks for you.  And perhaps it was just his imagination getting the best of him but Miguel could have sworn there was more sway on your hips as you carried the plates to the sink, the movement more sensual.

He cups his jaw as he watches you clean the dishes.  Miguel found himself leaning back on his chair.  You’re just so effortlessly beautiful, aren’t you?  He watched your foot slip out of your fluffy slippers and rub at your calf.

“I can finish cleaning up.”  Miguel offers.  “You must be tired.”

You shake your head, smiling so warmly at him, he almost felt bad for the sinful thoughts that ran through his head.  “It’s okay, I’m almost done anyway.”

“Your back is stiff.”  He comments, his brows drawing to a frown, wondering if you strained yourself too much.  The curve of your back turns softer after hearing his words and he just watches you adjust your posture.  “Do you want to take a warm shower?”

You roll your eyes.  “It broke, remember?”  It was all you ever did when you arrived, taking warm showers in your very own bathroom and eventually, it gave up on you.

Miguel gets up to hand you a towel to dry your hands.  “You can use mine.”  He does not falter, meeting your eyes despite how swiftly they snapped to him.  The look he gives you is heavy and you remain staring, afraid you’ll miss something by just looking away for a quarter second.  “Frankly, I’m getting a little tired of this roommate setup we have going on.”  He’s no longer talking about your sleeping arrangements and he thinks you know it too.

 “Is that so?”  You gently put the plate down.   “Why don’t you do something about it then?”  You whisper in a tone he never heard you use before, everything about it so carnal.

The towel from your hand drops to the hardwood floor as Miguel pulls you by the waist to slam your chest against his.  He studies your features before devouring your lips.  The squeal you give when he lifts your body so your bum is sitting on the countertop is swallowed by his hungry kisses.

Miguel groans softly when you card your fingers through his hair, your nails gently running through his scalp. 

Gossamer threads connect your lips as you part.  His pupils are dilated, his breathing heavy.

“Should I stop?”  He rasps out.

You continue to play with his hair, curling and pinching his dark strands on your delicate fingers.  Unable to trust your voice, you only shake your head ‘no’, a flash of vulnerability and desperation was there and Miguel can see them very well.

You have no idea where he’s taking you but you trust him enough not to care.  It was only when gravity held you tightly in her clutches that you started to panic but the soft mattress under you answered your questions.

“What happened to the warm shower?”  You snicker at Miguel who is trying to reach for the zipper on your back but your wings get in the way.

“Later.  Didn’t want your flavor to get washed off.”

You grimace and even let out a giggle.  “That’s disgusting.”

A wet stripe was licked on your neck and that was all the answer you got as he was now losing his patience with your dress.  Until finally, he just ops to grip your collar and you hear the unmistakable sound of the fabric tearing.  “You are so buying me a new dress, mister.”  You jab a finger to his chest.

His nose skims your throat down to your chest, humming deeply.  “Anything you want, baby.  Anything you want.”

Goosebumps once again erupt on your skin when his lips press a soft kiss on the fat of your chest, you gasp softly when the tips of his fangs press on you but not quite breaking your skin, only grazing teasingly. 

Miguel meets your eyes before he takes a hardened bud between his lips.

“Oh!”  Your hand flies to his shoulder, surprised with the sensation he caused.  “Miggy, that’s—Oh!”

His hand scoops you up, lifting your torso off the bed, and he hunches over you as he sucks hard, as if trying to draw milk.

Your eyes squeeze hard when he switches to the other bud, leaving the other one all stiff, tingly, and wet with slobber.

Your stomach almost cramps up when Miguel leaves a trail of kisses on it as he brings your thighs up and presses them on the map of skin he was just kissing.

He chuckles when he finally sees you.

“What are you laughing about?”  You almost whine, brows pulled to the cutest frown.

Miguel presses a kiss on your thigh and brushes a kiss on your almost pulsating clit, making your attempt to press your legs close unsuccessful, only trapping him further.

“I’m only admiring, mi princesa.”

You try to hold your frown but the bastard can be pretty charming if he wanted to.

Shyly, you part your legs for him.  He nips on your inner thigh, making you shift your hips but his large and heavy hand lands on the back of your thighs to keep you pressed on the mattress, your body sinking deeper on it under Miguel’s hold.

“Don’t run away from me now.”  He looks at you and slowly lifts his hand off, watching closely if you’ll do as he says.  Your eyes are on him when he raises the same hand to his lips and presses his index and middle finger flat on his tongue and they emerge slightly glistening.  You follow them as they move slower until they disappear and next thing you know, you can feel them.

Warm, rough, and big.

You hold your breath when they brush on your lips down there, parting them softly.

“Eyes on me.”  Miguel says sternly and your eyes snap up to meet his.

You let out a soft hum when Miguel’s thumb slides on your slit to gather your slick and rubs careful circles on your puckering clit.  The thrill was making your back tingle, and you jolt when his middle finger slides inside you.  When he curls it upwards, you throw your head back against the pillows, lips parted so beautifully.

“I said, eyes on me.”  Miguel growls.

Reluctantly, you look back to him, letting your elbows support your torso to take him in better.  Your brows are drawn together again when he rubs your twitching walls.  Your wings shift, almost looking like they’re about to flap in excitement.

“Miggy.”  You breathe out, feeling your toes curl up when he adds another finger.  “Gentle, please.”

A loud squelch, when he pulls them out halfway before plunging them back in, makes you bite your lip.

Miguel grins cockily, encouraged by your hums and broken whimpers.  His fingers worked with precision.  Every stroke never fails to earn him a breathy moan, his veins popping out as he works your tightness.

Every motion felt like a warning, like the sand on an hourglass, ever falling, ever filling.  You know that something is going to happen to your body soon, very very soon.  And you find yourself chasing it.

It felt like falling.

There was a tickle on your stomach that you can only associate with the feeling of dropping from a sheer height and it travels to your legs and your spine.  You scream as your back arches off the bed, your nails digging on the toughness of Miguel’s biceps.

“There you go.”  Miguel groans, his fingers picking up the pace, your clit buzzing under his warm thumb.

Tears sprung on your eyes as the sensation garbled up and swallowed you whole.  You were reaching for Miguel before you knew it.  You whimper when his fingers slide out of you, your juices leaking on his sheets and smearing on your skin as he wrapped an arm on your waist.

He presses a kiss on your shoulder and you wrap your arm on his neck, wanting only to be as close to him as physically possible.

“Too much?”  He whispers between kisses.

You put a distance between you so you can look at him but meeting his eyes only made your cheeks warm, reminding Miguel that he’s touching a virgin pure and he never felt more ravenous.

“Mm—no.  Don’t wanna stop, Miggy.”  You say, bashfully, more to his chest than him as you are still unable to meet his eyes.

That was all he needed to hear.

Miguel was already guiding you to lie back down on the bed.  But a gentle twitching of your brows has him halting his movements.

“What’s wrong?”  He asks quickly, his eyes scanning your body for any possible source of your discomfort.

You shift your back uncomfortably and he watches you reposition on the mattress before you look at him apologetically.  “Sorry.  My wings-”

Miguel doesn’t let you finish as he was already manhandling you so you are lying on your stomach.  A soft smack on your bum has you gasping.

“Miguel!”

He only chuckles before two large hands grip on your waist, his fingers are trying to memorize the feeling of your skin under his touch and you just let him.  Miguel lifts your hips up and pulls you flush against him.

Your tiny fingers search his bed blindly for the enormous pillows and when you found one, you pull it underneath you, where your torso collapses.  He watches as you smooshed your cheek against it. 

You’re too adorable for your own good.

“Not falling asleep, are you?”  He asks, purposefully making his voice louder.  “It’s rude to fall asleep while fucking.”

He saw your wings twitching, the tips swooshing to hide your face from him.  “I’m not!”  It came muffled.

The calloused surface of his palms explored your back, his brows rising appreciatively when your entire body responds to him as he gently rubs the base of your wings.

“Like it?”

You shift your wings and you look at him from your shoulder, your eyes following every stroke.  “Mhm.”

The bed dips when he leans down to plant a kiss on the base of your spine.

He grips the back of your thigh and he slides his finger against the slick dripping on your skin.  His cock flares angrily at the sight of you.  Miguel strokes himself and guides the tip to your entrance but he underestimates your wetness as he easily glides, going forward and hitting past your throbbing clit and bumping on the pudge of your belly.

“What-”  You try to take a peek but a firm hand lands just between the base of your wings, keeping you pressed on the pillow. 

Again, you feel the moist warmth brush on your skin but this time, it is lodged on your entrance.

“This might hurt a bit, firefly.”  Miguel says, his voice deep.

Your reaction came swiftly just as Miguel managed to pop the head in.

“M-Miggy!”  You sobbed.

Miguel tried to hush you with his hand rubbing patterns on your waist.  He glances down and now that he does, the size he’s trying to shove in looks ridiculous compared to your stature.

He sinks in slower, too slow for his liking but he’s putting you over his needs at the moment.

You writhe on the pillow trying to muffle your cries, not wanting Miguel to get too worried and eventually pull out.  Your knuckles turn white by how hard your fists gripped the sheets.

“Almost there.”  He murmurs.

“‘S not all in?”  You whine at him, eyes all red and puffy.  “I can’t take more.”

Miguel stops pressing in, withdraws slightly and shallowly thrusts on you.

“I’ll do it in one go.”  He tells you.

It scared you but you figured it would be better, like ripping a band-aid.

You brace yourself for the incoming pain.

He grabs your waist tightly, his blunt nails leaving marks on your stomach.  The shallow thrusts continue, as if he’s building up to it.

It was swift, his cock plunging deep until it kissed your cervix.  You let out a voiceless scream.  Your thighs twitch as you are stretched to your limit.

Miguel reaches for your clenched fist and he slots his large fingers between yours, the other hand reaching to rub on your clit.  He grits his teeth, his willpower thinning.  “You alright?”

There was no response from you and Miguel almost considers pulling out and trying again another time when you raise your head.

“Why’d you stop?”  You ask, your cheeks streaked with tears, your lashes have clumped up, all wet and alluring.

“I didn’t want to hurt you more than I have.”  He says, a soft smile that he reserves only for you was present.

You huff, much to his surprise and you slump your cheeks back on the pillow.

Did you want him to move?

“Should I?”  The cocky grin is back on Miguel’s lips.

You only hum in response.

It was yet again a shallow thrust, he barely moved.

“Miggy-”

“I know, firefly.”  He cuts you off.

And the thrusts eventually grow faster and rougher. 

To the point that the bed groans with the force of Miguel’s movement.

And he makes you take it all, bullies your cunt into the shape of him inside you.

Your breath hitches with every jerk of his hips, your ass jiggling with every motion.

A particular moan is ripped from you when he drags his cock out slowly, letting you feel all of him and he sinks himself right back, his skin slapping against yours.  Your wings flap uncontrollably, every feather shivering.

“Miguel…Miguel.”  His name spills from your swollen lips like a prayer.

And the feeling of falling returns as Miguel pounds on you.  Your velvet walls clamp on him, driving him mad.

Your twitching does not stop and your voice grew louder and almost pleading.  He tilts his head to the side to avoid being hit by your wings and in the spur of the moment, he reached for them and held the base of your wings with a single hand.

The action takes you by surprise that you explode in the purest form of ecstasy. 

Miguel groans and his hips falter for a second. 

You flutter hard around him, wrapping him in your tight heat.  He throws his head back, so lost in your warmth that he almost misses how your essence spray on his meaty thighs.

“Fuck.”  He drawls, watching your quivering thighs as they get soaked.  His grip on your wings tightens and his other hand presses on your back, angling your hips better for him and he plunges his cock inside you, your juices flying and smearing on his abdomen, sliding on the ridges of his stomach. 

A distressed and overstimulated cry leaves you as the flames of eroticism lapped at your skin.

“Y/N—fuck!”  Miguel slams his hips hard and stays there, the head pressed hard against your cervix, almost bruising it, and with a guttural groan, his cum spurts inside you.  Filling spaces you didn’t know were still there, the rest of it spills out, copious amounts dripping down your thighs.

Miguel lets go of your wings and they lay floppily on the bed.  He then reaches to rub your bulging belly, still feeling himself deep inside you and the astonishing load he deposited in your belly that formed a small pooch after he pulls out.

You are too exhausted to question when Miguel scoops you into his arms, carries you to the bathroom and sits you on top of a pristine clean toilet lid.  You admire his frame as he fiddles with the shower.

He really has a really good anatomical structure, doesn’t he?

What a well-defined gluteus maximus.

Miguel wordlessly scoops you in his arms again, pausing only as he double takes to see if that was really his spent on top of the lid.  Something warm trickles on his abdomen and he glances between your legs and that answers his question.

Your feet soon meet the damp bathroom floor and warm water showers on your skin.  Miguel joins you and upon instinct, you lean back on him.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”  He asks softly as he guides you so you are facing him.

“I did.”  You stand on your tippy toes and even then, it was not enough as he had to lean down so you could rest your arms on his shoulders.  “Thank you, Miguel.  Not just for the mind-blowing sex but for taking care of me.”

He chuckles at your words and you can’t help but admire the laugh lines that surround his eyes.  “It’s nothing.  I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“I appreciate it.”  You peck his lips and you turn away from him to grab the shampoo bottle.  “But let’s skip the bedroom activities for now.  I have listed things I’ve been wanting to try.”

He helps lather the shampoo in your hair, giving you a massage while doing so.  “Wouldn’t really need the bedroom as I could just bend you over wherever but what else do you want to do?”

The excited hum you gave almost made him regret asking.  You were waiting for him to ask, goddammit!

“I wanna go wine tasting in a vineyard.”  Huh, that doesn’t sound so bad.  “And get drunk.”

“Ay, por Dios!”

Project: Galatea • Project: Pandora • Project: Eros