#we just need your name number and email

[haniawritesthings]

ah the irony of it being near impossible to get a hold of the accessibility office

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[op-sys-chaos]

DPxDC prompt (demon twins au)

A video from your son, the email was titled. Bruce was confused. Which of his kids would send a video to his public work email??

Bruce clicked play.

On the screen was a boy who look a lot like Damian, but most certainly wasn’t him.

“This video is for the eyes of Bruce Wayne only.

Hi Dad. I’m Danny. You likely don’t know I exist, and if you’re receiving this, I’m already dead. Well, more dead than I already was. Maybe it’s cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem, but you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would’ve put you in danger.

This email is set to automatically send if I haven’t opened my computer for 3 days. I sometimes set it longer if I’m on vacation or expecting trouble, but I’ve mostly likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you’re receiving this.

I don’t know who killed me. Obviously. I’m recording this in advance. But it was probably either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons. I half-died at 14 and became a local ghost superhero, but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost-me apart molecule by molecule, so I bet that’s what happened. There will be nothing left of me to bury. Sorry about that!

The rest of the story is this. I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of 6 when they sent me on mission and I successfully faked my death.

My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that’s the reason I’m reaching out to you.

You’re a civilian. If you know too much about the League of Assassins you’ll be in danger. But I need you to save my twin Damian. He’s likely still there after all these years. He never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. He’s probably going to be stabby; he’s an assassin after all. But it’s not his fault. Ra’s - our grandfather - brainwashed him a lot more than he brainwashed me because Damian was more susceptible to it. It’s not his fault. Please. Save him. I’m begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please do it.

I wish it would’ve been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I’ve seen of you on the news with your oldest kids. I bet you’re like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I wish you all the best. Thank you for listening.

Your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton.”

Bruce took a second to process this, then picked up his phone and dialed his youngest’s number.

“Father.”

“Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?”

“…Who told you?”

Bruce hung up and sent Damian the video. He needed a minute to process this anyway.

Damian called back a few minutes later, after watching the video.

“Father. I do not care what state he is in. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny. Even if there is only a single molecule left. We must discover the truth.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Damian.”

Dealer’s choice on whether Danny is alive. The few ideas I have for this are:

- they find him mid-vivisection and rescue him

- they find what’s left of him post-vivisection and post his core being crushed

- he’s perfectly fine and just forgot to open his computer (maybe clockwork made sure he forgot?) and now he’s panicking about the fact that his family knows about him and could be in danger. He wanted them to know he existed, not make themselves a walking target for the league by finding him and trying to bring him home!

- Jazz found the automatic email and, deciding to meddle in her brother’s life and him back to his family and maybe get a good parent for herself as a bonus, sent it early

- Technus decided to start shit and sent it while haunting Danny’s computer

- Clockwork screwed with time to make sure it got sent

Lmk what yall do with this!

[cup-of-starlight-waters]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

[thatbadadvice]

Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!

Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:

I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me. I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to. (I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.) The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss. She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview. A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger. I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else. I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea. What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?

Sir,

You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.

Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.

But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it. I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[ms-demeanor]

The thing about LLMs is that they're like cars that have a touchscreen on the console; it's more expensive and worse than what came before in almost all circumstances.

And like car touchscreens it's something that I suspect that the vast majority of consumers dislike and would prefer not to use.

But that doesn't mean that touchscreens are bad it just means they don't belong in cars.

It *IS* a massive problem that "AI" is being shoved at us by a bunch of people who invested WAY too much into AI and are trying to make a return on their investment. It is *ALSO* a problem that "AI" is a terrible name for the pattern interpretation tools that tech companies have dumped billions of dollars into so people are being told that a lot of things that are just pretty basic algorithmic tools are "AI," which makes the whole thing feel overhyped, oversold, and useless (which it is for a tremendous number of people!)

But I get really frustrated with claims that AI slop is what ruined google search (google search has been ruined for a long time; when their goal became "people need to do more searches so we can serve them more ads" instead of "we need to return the best results for our users" it was destroyed and that had nothing to do with AI and everything to do with a profit motive) or that AI is why we're being inundated by spammers (spammers have been a problem for a VERY long time) or that it's impossible to find good info these days because the internet is full of garbage AI articles to generate clicks (that has been the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE in terms of research for MUCH LONGER than GPT4 has been around it is called search engine optimization and if you haven't had your results full of poorly written non-information listicles for the last seven years I suspect you haven't been doing quite the same volume of searching as I have been).

These are known problems that are being exacerbated by this particular kind of tool, but the problem with phishing isn't that the emails are extremely tailored to particular users, it's that the world is chock full of scammers who are incentivized to treat people like shit for money.

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up! pt. ii

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | part i

note: fukuoka is the canon location of hawks hero agency

You stare at the text for what embarrassingly feels like at least the tenth time this hour.

pick you up at 8 ;)

Was sent mere moments ago from the contact Hawks, that had several hearts next to his name that you don’t remember him putting, saved in your phone after he dropped you off at work this morning.

Nearly giving your coworkers who just so happened to be looking out the windows at the time synchronized heart attacks in their cubicles, which would’ve been very hard to explain to your boss.

Who, thank All Might, was not here today.

But the millisecond you walked out of the elevator onto your floor, their nosy natures quickly won over their states of disbelief.

Desperate for the juicy details, nothing could stop them from swarming you like a group of hungry piranhas, and you’re flooded with a sea of questions you’re simply at a loss for how to answer.

“How did you meet him?” “So when’s the wedding?” “Were you rescued in a villain attack that wasn’t on the news yet?” “Oh my god, did you two—?”

“Guys!” You cut them off with a frantic wave of your hands, you did not need to hear the end of that sentence. “We just happened to meet. I, uh.”

Your coworkers look at you with expectant eyes, eagerly waiting to hear your no doubt heart-racing meet-cute story with the hero so popular, that when the paparazzi got a picture of him sipping kombucha tea, the drink went out of stock in stores nationwide faster than you could even say its name.

“I accidentally took his coffee order.”

You cringe a bit as you finish, and you’re met with the most comically shocked faces you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“You WHAT!?”

“Damn I literally just tweeted ‘my coworker stole Hawks’s coffee’ and it already has a hundred reposts.”

“Oh honey, you’re lucky our boss is out sick today. He’d fire you for that.”

“Yeah, Hawks is his all-time favorite on the charts since All Might.”

You groan. “I know! He was so nice about it too, I still feel bad.”

“You should be.”

All your coworkers simultaneously glare at your company’s front desk receptionist that somehow snuck up to your floor, who for some reason takes that as a signal to continue.

“I could never be illiterate enough to take his order if I was in that coffee shop.”

“No one cares, Janet,” everyone says in deadpanned unison.

Janet huffs and turns to leave, but not before pointedly throwing another withering look at you.

She never did like you ever since you politely corrected her grammar in that passive aggressive email she sent when you were a new hire.

Not illiterate your ass.

Throughout the day, you answer more emails, calls, and print papers in a daze.

When you go to forward an email, all you can think about is how his strong arms felt on your waist. When you go retrieve ink to refill the printer, all you can think about is his gentle yet firm grip that he had on your thighs.

This could not be healthy.

But what if it was? You’ve never been touched so intimately, so softly before, like you were something precious, even in your fleeting experiences with relationships.

No one’s made you feel this safe like he does from just being in their presence.

But you blame that on him being a hero. He was probably trained on how to calm civilians down, especially during rescues.

You don’t really think that applied to people who stole his coffee, but maybe that was just you trying to feel special.

With a shake of your head, you straighten yourself in your chair. You had to get it together.

No more thoughts of Hawks on company time until it’s time to clock out!

But it seems like the winged flirt had other plans.

hawks ♡♡♡ [12:00]

hey

[sent an image]

hawks ♡♡♡ [12:01]

saw a pretty flower on

someone’s roof and it

reminded me of you :)

You freeze when you see the notification pop up, mid-bite through the food that you picked up from your favorite aesthetically pleasing cafe for lunch.

With a mouthful of sandwich, you click on the message to text back, when suddenly the realization hits you.

You had no idea what to wear for the date.

Oh my god, what were you even supposed to wear? Was there some kind of etiquette for this?

I mean, it’s not like he’s taking you to the Hero Gala. It’s just a higher end homey sushi and ramen place, but still.

Pinterest probably didn’t have “cute date outfit ideas for going out with the freaking number two hero” in their search results.

In your mind, you nervously run through different casual but still elegant clothes to wear. Maybe that nice blouse you had been saving, the one with the ruffles on the sleeves? You bite the inside of your cheek. No, maybe your classy sleeveless turtleneck midi dress instead?

Ugh, but you’ve already worn it out too many times last month. Not to mention the current ninety degree weather would cook you alive in that.

You pray that the paparazzi wouldn’t dare to stalk you on your date, but imagine if they did and took a picture of you two?

Caption: Hawks takes girl that never wears anything else out on date.

Even worse, caption: Hawks seen taking girl that can’t dress if her life depended on it out on date.

Nope, not on your watch.

The further you brainstormed, the more each piece of your wardrobe seemed less and less fitting to wear for such an occasion.

An idea pops into your head.

What was Hawks’s favorite color? You could base an outfit off of that instead.

Thinking about it, it was probably red. Hell, if you had pretty crimson wings like him you’d forget every other color in the rainbow.

Should you text him and ask?

After a little mental wrestling yourself, you muster up all the courage you could possibly have on a Monday afternoon.

[12:20]

you

that’s so cute :((((

thank you <3

you

also random but what’s

your favorite color?

hawks ♡♡♡

ooh we playing twenty questions? ;)

you

lol i guess we are ;)

hawks ♡♡♡

hmmm ok then

hawks ♡♡♡

my favorite colors

probablyyy red

you

i knew it

hawks ♡♡♡

oh?

hawks ♡♡♡

been thinking about me

have you, pretty girl?

you

……..maybe

hawks ♡♡♡

you’re so cute when

you get all shy

Your cheeks warm at that, and you physically have to put down your phone for a moment to cool off.

[12:34]

hawks ♡♡♡

my turn

hawks ♡♡♡

whatcha having for lunch?

you

[sent an image]

sandwich :)

hawks ♡♡♡

ooh that looks yummy

you

it is!!!!

you

it’s from the cafe across

the one where i nabbed

your coffee lol

hawks ♡♡♡

ah when fate brought

us together by my overly

sweet latte

hawks ♡♡♡

i’ll make sure to stop by

it after patrol tomorrow :)

you

yay!!! lmk what you think

i want a full review

hawks ♡♡♡

yes ma’am (︶▽︶)7

you

what are you having for lunch?

hawks ♡♡♡

[sent an image]

just chicken lol

Of course he was. It did look good. The fried edges were perfectly crispy, and it was a nice golden brown color and—

hawks ♡♡♡

but i wish it was you instead ;)

you

!!!!!?1!?)$1&1$@-

hawks ♡♡♡

aw, you embarassed right now?

you

YESOHMYHOF???

you

YOU CANR JUST

SAY THAT

hawks ♡♡♡

whyyy nottt

hawks ♡♡♡

it’s true though! :(

you

oh my god i’m going to die

you

and this sandwich is

going to be my last meal

hawks ♡♡♡

noo don’t die

you

i will

hawks ♡♡♡

id miss you :(

you

then know that it

was all YOUR fault.

hawks ♡♡♡

pffft you're so cute

hawks ♡♡♡

wish i could see your

flustered face right now

you

STOP

you

i think i'm going to

have to block you

you

this isn’t good for my heart

hawks ♡♡♡

D:

hawks ♡♡♡

noooooooo!!!!!!

come backkkk!!

You had to bite back a fond giggle, feeling warm all over. How was it fair for him to be this cute over text and in person?

hawks ♡♡♡

okok but before you block me

which i don’t think you will

hawks ♡♡♡

send me your address so

i know where to pick up the

most beautiful girl alive <3

you

oh u smooth ass mf

hawks ♡♡♡

for you? always

you

UGHHH

fine here it is

you

123-4567 fukuoka, tenjin,

chuo ward, 8-91

hawks ♡♡♡

perfect

see you soon birdie ;)

After an eventful day at work, you’re turned around, glancing at your back in the mirror.

Even though the scarlet dress that falls just below your knees hugs your figure in all the right places, you still feel a little self-conscious in it.

You honestly haven’t touched it since you bought it at the mall with a friend, who insisted that red was your color even when you had wrinkled your nose.

But as you admire the smooth, soft fabric of it now, you can’t help but be reminded of a certain someone’s beautiful wings.

You think you were really starting to warm up to the color.

A spritz of your favorite perfume and slight touch up of your makeup later, you hear a knock on the door to your balcony.

That must be him!

You excitedly unlock the sliding glass, and you’re finally greeted with the sight of Hawks’s signature grin that you missed all day.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you say back, a bit breathlessly.

As if you were the one who flew all across the city just to see him.

He takes the moment to look you up and down, not in a hungry, lustful way like you’re used to when you’re around other men, even when you’re not exposing much skin.

Hawks admires you.

Like you’re a statue of a goddess, made of the most pristine marble. Like you’re a beautiful cherry blossom tree at peak bloom, with the wind serenading your soft pink petals.

Like you’re something so divinely beautiful and enchanting, you deserve to be revered.

“Wow.” Hawks opens his mouth, but no other sound comes out. The bouquet he’s hiding behind his back for you goes limp in his hand.

For a man who never runs out of words to say, he’s been rendered speechless.

There’s a tingle of anxiety at your neck and you’re suddenly a little nervous. “How—How do I look?”

Hawks takes a deep breath, and finally speaks.

“You look absolutely, astoundingly gorgeous.”

Hawks’s lips curve upwards softly when you visibly melt, his touch sweeter than the caramel of his eyes as a hand tips your chin up to meet his warm gaze that the summer heat had nothing on. 

“And that’s the least interesting about you.”

─────────

“This is really good.”

Is what you ultimately decide when you’re on the fourth piece of the unagi roll you ordered.

Hawks grins, you looked cute with your cheeks puffed up like that. “Isn’t it? I knew you’d like it.”

You nod while covering your mouth, chewing slowly to savor the delectable taste of the sushi. “I’m literally going to gatekeep this place so hard.”

“Good.” He reaches across the table for your hand with an amused laugh. “It can just be our little spot, then.”

You softly smile back at him.

“Our little spot.”

At that moment, the waiter comes over with Hawks’s shoyu ramen. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks!” Hawks beams at him, then turns his attention to the bowl in front of him.

Then a slight frown appears on his face.

You tilt your head. “What’s wrong?”

His worried eyes meet yours.

“You sure just sushi is enough? You can always order something else, it’s on me.”

“Oh no it’s okay!” You wave a hand. “I’m not really that hungry—“

“I don’t believe you.” A hint of a teasing smile plays on his lips. “Could hear your tummy growling a bit earlier.”

“You heard that?” You whine. How embarrassing.

“All the more reason to share my ramen with me.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to?”

“I do.” Hawks stubbornly says, picking up his chopsticks to grab noodles with them. He holds them up to your lips, a growing smirk on his handsome face.

“Say ahhh.”

Throwing a quick glance around the restaurant, your cheeks flame. “Hawks!”

“What?” He’s still wearing that casual, shit-eating grin. “It’s just us and a few other people here, c’mon.”

You huff. “I can feed myself!”

“I know you can, birdie.” Hawks holds your gaze with piercing but warm eyes. “But I want to do it.”

You fiddle with your own chopsticks, looking at anything but his eyes.

“Please? Let me take care of you.”

Finally, you cave at his pleading expression.

“Okay.”

He feeds you, and you’re not still not sure why he’s so happy to do so, but you let him.

The owner of the sushi and ramen place laughs as he looks over at the booth you two had occupied a few hours before closing.

As always, there’s a generously heavy tip left on the table and this time a new, small note.

thank you, boss :> we’ll be back!! - h

─────────

It’s summer, again.

Keigo flies you back home in his arms after his patrol and your nine to five, and as you touch down on your balcony, the sky is starting to turn a brilliant gradient of orange, pink and purple as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

His eyes are lidded as he pulls you closer to him by the waist on the couch.

“You like when I’m this close to you?”

In the privacy of your apartment with the only sound being the breeze from your air conditioning and the faint chirping of crickets outside, it’s like the both of you are in your own little world.

“Yeah.” You sound muffled while hiding your burning face in his chest. “You still make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” His low voice is lilting as he tilts his head, and pulls you even closer to him with a firm hand now on the small of your back.

Keigo smirks, drinking up the sound of your little gasp. “I’m gonna take that as a yes, little dove.”

You blink dreamily, disorientated by his warmth seeping through his sleeveless turtleneck and the feeling of his firm chest against yours. He was so cozy. “Dove?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause they symbolize peace, and you’re my safe place.” Keigo’s eyes soften at the way you snuggle into him in response. He was yours too, your comfort person. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“Mmm.” You’re resting your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “Tell me again.”

“As many times as you want.” He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“You’re perfect.”

You let out a laugh, his breath was tickling your ear. “Kei, why’s your heart beating so fast when you say that?”

“Mm.” He offers you a sly smile, hand tracing circles on the small of your back as you lay on top of him.

“Guess you just do something to me when we’re together, birdie.”

Your eyes start to feel heavy, and you hug him even tighter at that.

“I’m so glad I stole your shitty excuse of a coffee that day.”

And it’s when he laughs from deep within his chest that you know he is too.

— Courtship feeding is believed to function as ceremonial pair bonding. The male bird usually feeds their female mate, and the resulting nutritional boost contributes to more and healthier offspring.

[mechaknight-98]

That time I got abducted by an Alien Warlord Masquerading as a K-pop Idol (NSFW) FT Jihyo

Author's note: My 100th fic and my reaching 1,500 followers coincided so I should do something special. My original thought was a Jeewon fic where she's a massive crime boss, but I had just written her. Then the next idea was a threesome, but I'm still tired from writing that foursome so that was a no-go. I was kinda stuck, I thought about going on hiatus but then Twice had a new comeback, and the idea for 8ft tall Galatic Empress Jihyo came to mind and everything fell into place. Also I guess this is the “First” Diabolos series story.

“Jihyo?” I ask. Jihyo nods her head. My brain is fuzzy as I come to from being crushed by debris

“Oh good you already know who I am,” Jihyo says pleasantly while I look her up and down. “Nice to meet you C-137 resident,” she said as she got up. Her hand outstretched to mine and I took it to shake hers. She smiled

“The name is Diabolos,” I responded taking her hand. Her aura exuded grace and power. (or maybe it was the fact that she was 8 feet tall) her smile was genuine, but something about all of this still felt off.

“You know when I was receiving reports from the Carbonicphage,” how one little being was waging a war against it single-handedly and winning I had to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I also learned that he is also part CMR-1957. Talk about special. I hate how CMR-1957 destroyed itself such a promising race filled with so much potential and promise”

“Huh,” I said confused by all the numbers. Jihyo smiled with understanding before answering.

“Oh right, you still name the new planets you find instead of indexing them based on region. C-137 is what we call earth.” Jihyo said. I nodded and she smiled again. It seemed practiced though not genuine and it set me on edge.

“Okay, penultimate question: why are you 8 feet tall?” I ask very confused.

Jihyo laughs and says, “Oh this is my true form,”

Due to the circumstances (and my brain is fried), I replied, “That's hot,” Jihyo looked at me confused before I quickly changed the subject.

“So what happens now?” I ask

Jihyo smiles and says, “Now we take over. You're race is dying anyway so well just clean up the mess you've made and dust the planet off before we can put more settlers on it. That was all I needed to hear I activated my nano email and brought out “Wings of Liberation” Jihyo smiled before saying,

“Now dear did you honestly think that your tech would scare me?” she said as multiple tendrils of steel pierced my flesh. A strange feeling surged in my body along with a searing pain. Jihyo pouted.

“I'm sorry Diabolos but you are too interesting to kill. I need to crack you open to see what makes you tick. I hope you understand it is nothing personal. ” she said as the tendrils dragged me away

Eventually, I passed out from the pain. When I found consciousness again the first thing I saw was Jihyo sitting in front of me pouting before she noticed my eyes opening.

“Oh great you're awake,” she said with a bright smile.  I found my heart skip a beat and cursed the muscle for finding comfort and joy in her presence.

“So I told the other C-137 residents that we were taking over and do you know what they did? They shot at my ship. Like can you believe that? I was prepared to let them die off naturally since the endless conflicts you have will destroy your home before I do, but now I am mad.” she said fuming. The craziest part. I found myself feeling bad for her. Like from her perspective she's not used to how we do things. So her peaceful PSA may seem like a violent declaration of war to us.

“That sucks but hey it could be worse. They could have destroyed the ship.” I say with genuine empathy. Jihyo smiles and then waves her hand. Her tendrils remove themselves from me she catches me before setting me down.

“Follow me,” she says. As I dust myself I feel a bunch of conflicting feelings that I push down.

Without missing a beat Jihyo says “Stop that!”

Jihyo turns back to me and says, “You have… (she searches for the proper word) The Void embraces it. It's a part of you, not a burden.”

I look at her confused then ask, “Huh?”

“In my culture, there are those who feel/ desire with the insatiable capacity of a Black hole. Those are typically the ones who push our culture forward. We venerate them yet you suppress them. Don't do that.” Jihyo says with a smile. I return it and Jihyo smiles.

“Oh Mr grumpy finally has a smile,” Jihyo teased as I followed her

Jihyo leads me through a series of winding corridors, her pace steady and confident. The architecture of the ship is sleek and alien, filled with an otherworldly beauty that leaves me in awe despite my circumstances. As we walk, Jihyo explains more about her culture and the purpose of their exploratory and colonizing missions.

“You see, Diabolos, our people have always sought to expand and improve. We believe in the potential of every world, just as I see potential in you,” Jihyo says, her voice soft but firm.

I glance at her, trying to gauge her true intentions. “And what exactly do you want from me?”

Jihyo stops and turns to face me, her eyes intense. “I want you to embrace your true nature. You have a strength and a void within your heart that is rare and powerful. With our guidance, you could become something extraordinary.”

We enter a grand chamber, filled with advanced technology and a breathtaking view of the cosmos. Jihyo gestures for me to sit, and I do so hesitantly.

Jihyo says with a smile. I return it and Jihyo smiles.

“Oh Mr. Grumpy finally has a smile,” Jihyo teased as I followed her.

Jihyo leads me through a series of winding corridors, her pace steady and confident. The architecture of the ship is sleek and alien, filled with an otherworldly beauty that leaves me in awe despite my circumstances. As we walk, Jihyo explains more about her culture and the purpose of their exploratory and colonizing missions.

“You see, Diabolos, our people have always sought to expand and improve. We believe in the potential of every world, just as I see potential in you,” Jihyo says, her voice soft but firm, reminiscent of Hyewon’s gentle encouragement.

I glance at her, trying to gauge her true intentions. “And what exactly do you want from me?”

Jihyo stops and turns to face me, her eyes intense and unwavering, a touch of Arin’s directness in her gaze. “I want you to embrace your true nature. You have a strength and a void within your heart that is rare and powerful. With our guidance, you could become something extraordinary.”

We enter a grand chamber, filled with advanced technology and a breathtaking view of the cosmos. Jihyo gestures for me to sit, and I do so hesitantly.

The journey to Jihyo’s home planet was unlike anything I  had experienced before. As we traveled through the vast expanse of space, surrounded by the hum of the ship’s engines and the distant glow of stars, I  found myself drawn to Jihyo’s presence. We sat together in a quiet corner of the ship’s observation deck, watching the swirling galaxies pass by in mesmerizing patterns. While traveling Jihyo force-fed me every language of her empire, along with physical sparring sessions every day while using simulations of her planets gravity. Which ended up being a little under double Earth's. Jihyo despite my slow start was impressed at how quickly I took to everything. Something commented on during one of our shared meals.

Jihyo, with her usual grace, broke the silence. “You know, Diabolos, most beings who visit our planet find it difficult to adjust to our gravity. I’m impressed that you took to it so quickly.” My heart raced despite my reluctance around her. She seemed to genuinely care about me but she also stole me from my planet like I was a stray.

I chuckled softly. “It wasn’t easy at first, but I suppose being a Hybrid Demon King has its perks.” I  glanced at Jihyo, catching the soft curve of her smile in the dim light. “You seem quite at home in space. Is this where you spend most of your time?”

Jihyo nodded, her eyes reflecting the starlight. “Yes, overseeing our exploratory missions keeps me occupied. But I must admit, having a companion like you on this journey makes it more enjoyable.” I found myself smiling words and some not-so-pure thoughts raced through my head.

I  felt a warmth spread through him at my words. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s not often I find someone who can keep up with me.”

Jihyo tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And here I thought you preferred the solitude of battles and conquests.”

I  chuckled again, feeling a newfound ease in Jihyo’s presence. “I do enjoy a good fight, but I’ve come to appreciate moments like these—quiet, reflective.”

I found myself drawn to Jihyo’s intellect and wit, her perspectives on life and leadership offering me new insights.

As the ship continued its journey through the cosmos, I couldn’t deny the growing attraction I  felt towards Jihyo. Her confidence and poise, coupled with a genuine curiosity about me, stirred something within me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before long, we found ourselves standing side by side at the observation deck’s viewport, watching a distant nebula unfold in vibrant hues of blue and purple. Jihyo’s shoulder brushed against mine before leaving her head on my shoulder, and I  turned to meet her gaze.

“You know,” Jihyo began softly, her voice barely above a whisper amidst the gentle hum of the ship, “there’s something about you, Diabolos. Something that intrigues me beyond your prowess in battle.”

I met her gaze, my heart racing at the intensity in her eyes. “And what might that be, Jihyo?”

Her smile was luminous against the backdrop of the cosmos. “I believe it’s your capacity for change, for embracing new possibilities. You’re more than just a warrior; you’re a catalyst for transformation. No, you're beyond that you are a nexus point where you move the worlds around you. ”

Our words hung in the air between them, charged with unspoken meaning. I reached out, gently placing my hand over Jihyo’s, feeling a surge of connection that transcended words or worlds.

“Perhaps,” I  murmured, my voice tinged with uncertainty yet hope, “perhaps that’s why our paths have crossed.”

Jihyo’s fingers intertwined with mine, a silent affirmation of understanding. “Perhaps indeed,” she replied, her eyes holding a promise of adventures yet to come. I felt a pang in my heart my desires simmering just beneath the surface.

Together, under the canopy of stars, we stood united in the vastness of the universe, on the brink of a journey that would challenge us both in ways we had never imagined, but this nagging thought kept recurring.

“You speak of potential and strength, but what about mercy and compassion? Do those not have a place in your world?” I ask, my voice tinged with defiance.

Jihyo’s smile fades slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Mercy and compassion are seen as weaknesses in our culture. They are sentiments that can be exploited. But perhaps, in time, you could help us understand their value,” she adds, showing a hint of Hyewon’s warmth and openness.

I nod, and Jihyo takes me to her home world.

It’s beautiful. The architecture is menacing but elegant. The air is crisp and clear. As I walk out of the ship, Jihyo gestures for me to be careful as their gravity is much higher than Earth’s. I nod. When the door opens, I feel the weight of the world (literally) crush me. Jihyo goes to steady me, but I shoo her hand away as I stand up.

“I stand on my own,” I say. Jihyo smiles, watching me take my first few steps proudly on her homeworld. As I take further steps, Jihyo encourages me to be free.

“Cast your burden of normalcy aside,” she says, her words genuine and soothing, akin to Hyewon’s nurturing support. I release a tension in my gut I didn’t know was there. When I open my eyes, all I see is Jihyo’s brilliant smile. Her touch lingers on my “horns” as she caresses them, shivers arcing throughout my body.

As we walk through the city, I feel a weight cast off my chest. Although it felt like I was carrying my weight plus 415 pounds, Jihyo led me into a restaurant. Despite the looks I get from the other members of Jihyo's race, I ask:

“Hey, Suny, what is your race called?”

Jihyo’s smile is bright. “Was that a pet name?” she teases, a playful glint in her eyes reminiscent of Arin’s boldness. I sit back, then think.

“No, there’s no going back now,” Jihyo says before grabbing my hand. Her touch is sensational; it feels like every nerve is on fire. I am filled with a boldness that I had long thought I intentionally diminished.

“Yes, it was,” I say confidently, “Now answer the question.” The stares surrounding me seem impressed instead of judgmental upon hearing that. Jihyo smiles.

“Spoken like a true Pharo,” Jihyo says before taking me into an intense kiss. My heart races at the smell of her perfume (the closest equivalent I could think of was orchids and lilies). When she breaks it, she smiles and licks her lips.

“Let’s skip the meal. You need a fight,” she says. I nod, ramped up and raring to go.

Being the Empress of the Pharo empire has its privileges, one of which is arranging a pitched battle at almost any time.

My blood races through my body despite my fatigue. I have never felt so alive. Before the fight, Jihyo sits next to me.

“Oh, you’re ready,” she says. “I see it in your eyes.” I smile and get up.

“When you win, I’ll have a reward for you,” she says, smiling brightly. I smile and head out to the pitch.

Jihyo proudly announced to her people, “Ladies and gentlemen today we have a very interesting pitch fight for you. Our very own pitch fight champion Priam vs. The Hybrid Demon King from C-137 Diabolos.” at that moment I had never felt more seen for who I was and I basked in it. “This is where I belong,” I thought to myself “I'm the king” were the only thoughts in my head as I got ready for battle. Priam Faced me he stood 10 feet 4 inches tall and carried with him a massive sword. I smiled as I activated my nanomail and unsheathing wings. Priam smiled. In a bright flash, he lunged his blade at me. I blocked with an axe form of wings which made Priam smile

“Oh okay.” he retreated but I pressed on. The offensive. I jumped and swung the axe to his chest. Electricity arcing off mine.

Prima smiled as he released fire from his sword I blocked his swing with my axe. He looked at me and said, “I know you have more go for it.”

So I oblige him. My armor transforms again as more hyper-blade jets cover me along with more electricity and other energies flowing through me. Priam claps seeing this but doesn't expect my next attack. I jump in the air and barrel towards him at near the speed of light. He smiles as he is launched out of the ring. The arena is silent before the crowd cheers my name

“DIABOLOS! DIABOLOS!” they repeat again and again. I feed on that energy and acclaim and pound on my chest. In the crowd, I make eye contact with Jihyo whose eyes look at me with a hungered fervor. She smiles graciously

After the battle, Jihyo brought me into her home, and honestly, it was not what I expected. Instead of a grand place, it was a humble 4-bedroom home. I found myself more at ease. We sit on her love seat and she says.

“I watched your fights with the Carbonicphage and the one they call Haiabd and I noticed that. You held back against them. Why?”

I pondered Jihyo’s words before answering “It's hard to fight when all your opponents feel like they are made of paper,” Jihyo nodded and asked

“What about my world how does it feel?”

Her eyes held an intense gaze that reminded me of Arin.

“I love it here. I have never felt as free to be me. I don't have to suppress or stuff anything down. I can walk and talk how I like.” I respond while gazing into her big soothing eyes.

“That's good I knew you belonged here. While not born a pharo you certainly have our spirit.” Jihyo says happily as she kisses me. I breathed in her perfume again as my brain scrambled. Guilt danced at the frayed edges of my mind, but here with Jihyo, it felt correct. It felt like home or at least what I wanted out of a home. Emotionally nourished as well as physically.

I spent the next several weeks maybe months (time is weird here)  just training and spending almost all my time with Jihyo. I fought in 4 more pitch battles. I won 3 and lost one, to Jihyo. I felt my attraction for her growing by the day, as she began to nestle herself into the same space that Arin and Hyewon held.

The pitch was empty, save for Jihyo and I The vast arena was a testament to the grandeur and power of the Pharo, its architecture both intimidating and awe-inspiring. We had just finished a grueling training session, and the sun beginning to set on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

Jihyo stretched lazily, her movements graceful and feline. "You know, for someone who’s never taken anything seriously, you’re a surprisingly good company and an exceptional leader," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I  chuckled, leaning against one of the pillars. "Is that your way of saying you enjoy my presence, Jihyo?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Don’t let it go to your head, Demon King. I’m just saying you’re not as insufferable as you look."

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on my lips. "Coming from the Empress of Insufferability herself, I’ll take that as a compliment."

Jihyo feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart. "Oh, you wound me, Diabolos. Here I thought we were becoming friends."

I  laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "Friends, huh? Is that what you call this?" I gestured between them.

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I did say you’re good company. Maybe I even like having you around."

I  met her gaze, my eyes searching hers as my heart raced. "Careful, Jihyo. I might start thinking you have a soft spot for me."

She tilted her head, a slow smile spreading across her face.  “I do. Despite your race’s propensity for weakness, you rise to every occasion I have set. It's becoming a thrill just to make new obstacles for you plus  I just like the challenge you present. You’re not like the others."

"And you like that?"I asked, my tone turning serious for a moment.

"I do," she admitted. "You’re different, and it’s intriguing. Keeps me on my toes. Even when compared to other Pharos you have this drive to win no matter what and you give everything to do so. It inspiring"

I leaned in, our faces inches apart. "Well, I’m glad I can keep the mighty Empress intrigued."

Jihyo's gaze flickered to my lips for a brief second before meeting my eyes again. "Just don’t get too comfortable. I still expect you to keep up with me."

I  grinned. "Wouldn’t dream of doing anything less. In fact, I hope to surpass you"

We shared a moment of silence, the tension between us palpable yet pleasant. Jihyo broke it with a light laugh, pulling back and gesturing to the center of the pitch. "Come on, let’s see if you can handle another round. I can’t have you thinking you’ve already won me over."

I  followed her, my grin widening. "Winning you over, huh? Is that a challenge?"

Jihyo looked over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You wish, Demon King. You wish." I may have not won her over but she has stolen my heart

We get back to her home after training for 7 hours. Jihyo is impressed by something she makes known as I head into her house to shower and when I exit.

When we got back Pharos Jihyo was exhausted as was I. The battle celebration would have to wait as we headed to her home. We headed to her bathroom to rinse the stains of battle from us we entered her large bath together. The tension between us was intense. My body was giving me all the signals to mount Jihyo then,  but my mind told me not to. Our eyes lock, and Jihyo’s look sets my aching loins ablaze.

“You have grown so strong here,” she says. Eyes fully dilated. I nod and she remarks.

“Okay enough foreplay”  before pouncing on me

Jihyo smiles before kissing me. I feel my hands go to her heaving tits and I grab them unconsciously.

“Oh my,” she says and I instantly freeze. I retract my hands and Jihyo pouts.

“Why Did you do that? I know you've been thinking about it?” she said. I look at her worried. Jihyo slaps me.

“Take what you want,” she says. She slaps me again and repeats her words before my horns come out and she smiles. I rip her blouse open revealing her tits and grope them before going in for another kiss. Jihyo moans in my mouth as she slips her hand into my pants. Despite her size and strength her touch is exceedingly gentle. She breaks this kiss and says, “What do you want?”

“I wanna fuck those fat tits, and fill your cunt to the brim. I want to mark your entire body. I want you to know who you belong to. I want you to know who you belong with?”

Jihyo moaned and said, “Then take it.”

I slipped into another kiss with Jihyo. She lowers herself to my crotch before wrapping her beautiful breasts around my cock. She smiles.

“How's that?” she asks.

“So good” I moan out

Slow is not in Jihyo’s vocabulary she rails me with her boobs and I try my best not to cum too earlier but she takes that as a challenge.

Her intensity increases as she says, “cum for me. Please it'll be good I promise. I want you to feel good.  Come on, please. I need it. You need it too. Let go” Her eagerness gets the better of me as I explode all over her tits. She smiles happily and massages my seed into her mounds. Watching her basking in my cum is enough to get me hard again. Without a second thought, I pick her up out of the bath with a strength I didn't know I had (reminder she is 8 feet 3 inches or so) and carry her to her bed. She smiles as she shimmies her pretty tits for me. My cock begs to be inside her as I watch her enraptured. She smiles and says

“Fill my cunt to the brim,” she encourages. I nod and thrust into her tight sex. She moans like a banshee. When I bottom out her eyes focus on me and I'm captivated by her eyes. Her look was fierce and determined. Her walls clutch me like a warm wet hug as I continue to plow her. I groan as her pussy sloshed under me. A light sheen of sweat begins to cover her body as in the golden hour her tan skin radiates even more of her beauty. I smile which she mirrors and she says,” cum” Her words spur me on and I absolutely flood her pussy.

Jihyo smiles and says, “Well you certainly filled me.” I landed next to her and she was all smiles. I grabbed her and hugged her tight as I passed out exhausted.

The next day had been long, filled with negotiations and boring peace talks. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Jihyo and I found ourselves on a quiet balcony overlooking the capital city of Pharos: Cairo. The bustling sounds of the city below seemed distant from our perch, creating a serene atmosphere.

I leaned against the railing, my eyes scanning the horizon thoughtfully, before turning back to Jihyo, who stood beside me. Her presence was a calming influence amidst the evening breeze.

“It’s beautiful,” Jihyo remarked softly, her gaze fixed on the fading light. “Pharos has a way of captivating you, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, having now almost been here a full year. I had accepted Pharos as my home. “It’s different from Earth, but there’s a majesty to it. A strength that resonates through everything here.”

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle rustling of the wind and the distant hum of the city below.

“You know,” Jihyo began, her voice quiet and introspective, “for all the battles we fight and the challenges we face, moments like this remind me of why we fight. It’s not just about power or dominance. It’s about preserving something greater than ourselves.”

I turned to look at her, a smile forming. “So you do think about other things besides competition and winning,” I teased.

Jihyo pouted. “Relax, Yoyo. You have a way of seeing things. A perspective that goes beyond the battlefield.”

She met my gaze, her eyes reflecting a depth of emotion. “I’ve seen too much not to appreciate moments of peace. Pharos is my home, but it’s moments like this—with you—that make it feel truly alive.”

A gentle smile tugged at my lips. “I’m glad I can share this with you.”

We stood together in silence, the fading light casting shadows around us. Her hand found purchase in mine. In that quiet moment, amidst the chaos of our world, Jihyo’s softer side shone through—a leader who cherished peace as much as she did strength, finding solace in the presence of someone who understood her in ways words couldn’t fully express.

She chuckled and said, “Demon King, I have something for you.”

I turned to her, tilting my head in curiosity as she pulled out a necklace.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. “When I found you, you had two rings. They were broken, but I had Priam reforge them into this drill core. I hope you like it.”

I smiled at her gesture and happily took the necklace, but my heart was heavy. Arin and Hyewon were probably worried sick about me, and here I was, going on a cosmic adventure. banging a space milf… I know Jihyo wasn't a milf but you get the idea.

Jihyo sensed my turmoil and said, “If they cared about you, they would have come for you. Or at least we’d be hearing stories about people looking for you.” Her words cut deep, but before I could respond, she pulled me in for a kiss.

I fell under her spell, my worries slipping away. At that moment, I fully embraced being a Pharos. Jihyo sensed the change in me and smiled. “Now,” she said softly, “let’s go home.”

We arrive at our place and Jihyo smiles.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you more,” she says back

The next day Jihyo and I lounge around the home enjoying the peace. During the night was a peace festival

The Pharos festival was in full swing, vibrant lights casting a warm glow over the bustling city of Cairo. The air was filled with laughter, music, and the tantalizing aroma of local delicacies. Jihyo and Diabolos walked side by side through the crowded streets, their hands occasionally brushing against each other.

"What's this?" Diabolos asked, pointing to a colorful stand filled with intricate masks.

Jihyo grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's a tradition. We wear these masks and dance through the night. It's meant to symbolize shedding our burdens and embracing our true selves."

Diabolos picked up a mask adorned with shimmering scales, his fingers tracing the delicate craftsmanship. "Sounds like fun. Which one should I choose?"

Jihyo selected a mask for herself, its design elegant and fierce. "Try this one," she suggested, handing me the mask. "It suits you."

We donned our masks and joined the dancing crowd. The music was infectious, and I found myself moving to the rhythm, my worries and responsibilities melting away. Jihyo danced beside me, her movements graceful and free, a side of her I rarely saw.

As the night wore on, We found ourselves at the edge of the crowd, catching our breath. Jihyo removed my mask and I removed hers to see her big smile.

"This is incredible," I said, my voice filled with awe. "I never imagined a place like this."

Jihyo smiled, her expression softening. "I'm glad you're here to share it with me."

We head back home and Jihyo’s arousal is palpable. Her body demands sex and she intends to get it.

Jihyo cornered me in our little home, but the line between predator and prey blurred as I took her hungrily in for a kiss. When I broke it Jihyo was dizzy her eyes unfocused on anything but me. She looked deep into my eyes before going in for another kiss. Her prey drive triggered knowing she caught me. She lifted her dress revealing her magnificent bare breasts in between frenzied kisses. Jihyo smiles.

“Someone’s excited,” she says elated at the feeling of being so desired. I was left breathless in Jihyo’s wake as she brought me in for another devouring kiss. Our hearts race as we get accustomed to each other.

“You know typically you aren’t my type, but I admit. Your boldness has captured me.” Jihyo said excitedly before pulling me to the bedroom. She pushes me onto the bed before pulling my pants down, followed by pulling my underwear out of the way. She chuckles when my cock gently smacks her face.

“Oh, this is such a nice cock.” Jihyo declares before taking me into her mouth, without hesitation, she takes me down her throat. Jihyo’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she inhales my scent; a mix of citrus and natural musk that made Jihyo want more of me.

She begins to bob her head along my shaft taking slow deliberate breaths through her nose as she focuses. As Jihyo’s core heats up from pleasure she claws into my meaty thighs. I felt electric as Jihyo’s sucked me off with a Rapacious Appetite.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned Jihyo smiled around my cock. She grabbed my balls hoping to illicit an even greater moan, and she got it. I was overwhelmed with pleasure my brain couldn’t process it. Jihyo smiled even harder as she continued but didn’t expect an explosion from me when she bottomed out again. She drank my baby batter. It was sweet and salty as she savored the taste. She got up from between my legs and stared at his unfocused but lusted over eyes. She watched as my eyes traveled all over her body eye fucking her with reckless abandon. Before I could think I was back to kissing Jihyo. Not one to be outdone she pushed herself to see how much of me could take. Her hand wandered to my cock as she began stroking me again. I was so ravenous to the point I lowered myself before Jihyo when I reached her clit I stared into her eyes before taking an exploratory lick. Jihyo moaned before smashing my face into her cunt. I began to lick and nibble everything

I made up for his lack of experience with enthusiasm. I licked and nibbled all around her pussy and clit seeing which Jihyo liked more it seemed that a counterclockwise rotation around her clit mixed with an occasional tongue insertion seemed to drive the woman wild. So using this I pushed Jihyo to orgasm. As she came all over my face her lush thighs wrapped around my skull as I continued to tongue fuck her. Jihyo shuddered as her need to be filled began to overwhelm her until she pushed me from under her. I gave her a confused look as I landed on the bed safely but when Jihyo saw my hard rod her instincts took over. She got on all fours and wiggled her sexy body enticingly.

“Come fuck me,” she said. I happily obliged. I approached her awesome ass appreciatively before piercing her pussy with my petulant penis. Her walls are as comforting as ever.

“Please be rough with me I need it,” Jihyo moaned and I slammed my hips into her. She groans out in pleasure.

“Fuck,” she says as her walls get tighter around me. I slam into her again and watching her ass bounce mesmerized me and pushed me to fuck her harder and harder. I pull her hair up and she moans.

“Yes,” she moans. The way her ass and tits bounce plus the tightness of her pussy leaves me breathless as I cum inside her. Jihyo moans before crashing down on the bed in front of me.

I go to remove my cock from Jihyo and she growls for me to leave it in. Not wanting to see the consequences of disobedience I leave myself embedded in her, as we drift off into sleep.

[clerc16]

✯ music? date? both ; charles leclerc

a/n: based on a tiktok i saw earlier, by teilhard_ :)

summary: she listens to music when getting ready. he loves it. she sends him a note - he asks her out.

warnings: none.

── ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You were a major music lover.

Getting ready? Listen to music. Reading? Listen to music. Driving? Listen to music. Bored? You guessed it.

Everyone knew that about you - you were unbelievably passionate about music. Any type of music.

“Y/NNNN, can we hang out today? iʼm bored” said a text from your friend. Naturally, you agreed - why not? It was a Saturday night and you had no plans whatsoever.

Like always, you turned on your regular playlist, making sure the volume is suitable only for your ears to hear, not to disturb any of your neighbors. Unbeknownst to you, your next door neighbor could listen to every sound coming out of your speakers. He was a nice guy - you interacted a few times, little “hello”s and “how are you”s every time you would randomly bump into each other. Despite being famous worldwide, he was extremely humble.

He was also devilishly handsome. But you never actually admitted that.

As you swiftly moved around your apartment to grab little bits and bobs needed to get ready, occasionally humming or singing along with the music, Charles Leclerc was sitting in the apartment right next to yours, attempting to read.

If he was bothered by your music, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you - but he wasnʼt. It gave his currently dull and dead apartment a lively feel to it. Plus, your music taste was unmatchable.

As you put on some final touches, you paused your music and turned off your speakers. You grabbed your purse, phone and keys and left your apartment, shutting your door with a soft thud.

It wasn’t the first time Charles heard your music - in fact, ever since he moved in, he’d be hearing various music genres at various times of the day. This almost seemed like his final straw; he wanted to get to know you more.

He didn’t know how to approach you - he didn’t have your number, your social media, not even an email. So he channeled his inner creativity and decided to talk to you in a special way.

The special way was by leaving you a note by your doorstep. Not very original, eh?

As you were out with your friend enjoying your night, Charles was tapping his pen on the desk trying to think of what to write. After a few long hours, Charles had written the perfect note and placed it by your doorstep, hoping to see a response in the morning.

You stumbled back into your apartment complex, trying not to make a noise. You werenʼt drunk, just tired, your body begging you to fall asleep. You paid little to no attention as to what you were stepping on as you approached your door, keys in hand. As you were about to walk in, something felt stiff underneath your shoes. Looking down, you saw a small cream envelope with your name written on it in fancy cursive writing.

You bent down to pick it up and walked inside your apartment, your eyes still on the envelope. What is this?

You sit down on your couch and carefully open the letter, not wanting to rip the envelope.

“Bonjour -

Je voulais juste dire que tu écoutes de la très bonne musique, jʼadore ça!

PS: écoute “This Charming Man” de The Smiths, tu devrais aimer...

- Charles (ton voisin, n°28)”

[ Hello -

I just wanted to say that you listen to really good music, I love it!

PS: listen to “This Charming Man” by The Smiths, you should like it...

- Charles (your neighbor, n°28) ]

You immediately smiled at the note, your heart bursting with pride. If someone compliments your music taste and recommends a song, they are immediately very dear to you.

You placed the note back into its envelope and got up to change and refresh. Youʼll make sure to write back - you just donʼt really know how.

The next day, the first thing Charles did when he got up was to check for a note. He didn’t find anything. Nothing.

He sighed and decided to get on with his day. He shouldnʼt have expected a lot, really. As he left his apartment, he checked for one last time - still, nothing.

Little did he know you were just writing his name on an envelope to place on his doorstep.

The day passed, both of you anxiously waiting for a reply from each other. When Charles finally came home and saw a pink envelope on his doorstep, he smiled so hard his cheeks must have been screaming. He grabbed the envelope and rushed inside, the smile never leaving his face.

“Bonjour!

Merci beaucoup! Cela signifie beaucoup. La chanson est incroyable, The Smiths ne déçoivent jamais.

PS: écoute de “Good Looking” de Suki Waterhouse :)

- Y/N”

[ Hello!

Thank you so much! It means a lot! The song is amazing, The Smiths never disappoint.

PS: listen to “Good Looking” by Suki Waterhouse :) ]

Charles immediately opens the song on his phone, listening to it. Your music taste never disappoints, either.

It was like that for a few days - notes filled with song suggestions being passed back and forth. Every time you played music, you made sure to turn it up just a notch so he can listen to it with you.

Eventually, phone numbers were exchanged too, so notes on doorsteps were replaced by texts. Despite all this, you two didn’t actually talk in real life - even though you were literally next door neighbors.

One day, you were doing your usual, listening to music while cooking dinner. Your doorbell rang, and you walked over to the door to see who it was. Funnily enough, no one was there - but a small envelope on the doorstep was. You were confused; you and Charles text now, so why another envelope?

You brought it inside and sat down, opening it swiftly. Your hands grasped at the paper and pulled it out, curiously reading.

“Bonjour!

I feel like itʼs appropriate to ask to see you in real life now. Talking to you has been lovely. What do you say, coming by my house tomorrow at 6PM for dinner?

☐ Oui

☐ Non

- One last letter from Charles :)”

You grinned from ear to ear as you grabbed a pen and ticket the oui box, placing the note back in its envelope and by his doorstep.

Hopefully he lets you play your music on that dinner.

[xoxoemynn]

Transcript of tweets below the cut but in short: calling makes the biggest impact, focus on DEI, you can call more than once, and you do not need to be in the US or have a Max subscription to call.

Everyone, I just talked on the phone to an absolute ally at Max, and they gave me extremely useful information! We need to be calling WAY more. It's a higher impact that most other things we can do. Here's the phone number: (855) 442-6629. But read on if you want to know WHY.

Every time Max receives a customer feedback call, that information is logged in the system. The info, *including all the details* is pushed to a server that relays it to the higher ups. They don't just get a tally of calls and general opinions—they get the full feedback.

And it's not just higher-ups at Max. Per the service rep, "it's actually read by the higher ups who are in charge of what happens within Warner Media/ Discovery."

The rep also suggested that particular types of feedback, especially those around DEI, might bear extra weight. They had to be a bit cryptic for job reasons, but they made this very clear.

They ask for an email but don't triage based on whether that email has a subscription. E.g., if you're outside the US and watch elsewhere, you can still call, and your feedback will still go up the chain.

In fact, the rep was very clear to encourage ALL people with feedback to call individually. And to keep calling! I asked whether multiple calls from the same person make a difference, and the answer was a clear yes bc the feedback gets shared as it comes in, not batched.

It's also worth noting that phone calls in general are always higher-impact than letters, online engagements, etc. This is true for political campaigns, and it's true here. There's a real cost to having people answering phones. It takes time, which equals $$.

So: Call. I know it sucks; I hate the phone too. If you have phone anxiety, you can also delegate to a friend and have them provide your name and email. If you *don't* hate making phone calls, ask friend for permission to call on their behalf!

I'll put together a little phone script shortly and add it to this thread.

Source

[buckgasms]

Doctors' Barnes and Rogers (Part 3)

Part threeeeeee! This kinda gets a bit fluffy at the end so who knows what the heck is happening but I hope you enjoy it!

Doctor kink, breeding kink, dubious doctors behaving dubiously but also sweet so..... Also pregnancy talk so please avoid if that may upset you ❤️

Part One // Part Two

The next week you were inundated with tasks and paperwork to read over before your next session with the Doctors. Copious notes about your cycle, number of times you felt aroused in the weeks and detailed descriptions on what that consisted of.

It was a bit embarrassing to send these off every evening but Dr Barnes insisted it would be helpful. Some of your deepest fantasies, and some more recent thoughts about your recent encounter with two hot doctors. Hopefully they wouldn't judge you too much.

Dr Rogers had emailed you requesting images which you had felt even more embarrassed about, but complied in the name of science. You sent him images of your pretty pussy for the most part, but he also seemed to need pictures of your ass, breasts and even one of your mouth open. It made little sense to you but he said it was all required for the process, so you did it. The more you spoke to them and thought about having a little baby of your own you felt more desperate to get everything right and make them happy. You didn't want to risk them kicking you off the programme just because you didn't send a little picture here and there.

⚕️

Eventually the date arrived where you would go through the first procedure. You felt incredibly nervous but also so excited. You still didn't quite know what the process was going to look like, but if it was anything like your check up you were quite happy with that. Dr. Barnes did say it was quite 'revolutionary' so who knows what was in store?

It was a day time appointment for a change but the whole office was completely empty. "We shut the place for today, it's a special day sweetheart" Bucky said, guiding you into his examination room, a place you were starting to look forward to being. "I'm excited, but I do feel a bit scared Doctor." You mumble as he takes your coat and hangs it up before turning to you and taking your soft hand in his warm one.

"Hey, everything is going to be fine. Steve and I are going to take such good care of you and make sure you feel great the whole time. You've trusted us this far, keep going sweetie." You smiled and squeezed his hand back nodding eagerly. "You're right, it's going to be great..."

At that moment Steve walked in and smiled at the little scene in front of him. "How are we today? Ready to make a baby?" You giggled and nodded again making them smile at you. "Oh did all my pictures come through Dr. Rogers?" You ask, heat flaring in your cheeks as you suddenly wanted to know he liked them, even though that wasn't the point!

"Oh they were marvelous, really helpful. And your little diary was also enlightening. So glad you enjoyed your time with us last time..." You thought you might die from embarrassment but they just chuckled and nudged you.

"Ok sweetie, we're gonna try and few things out today, so if it's uncomfortable just tell us, the better you feel, the more chance it has of working right?" You nod and they start moving round the room as you wait for instruction.

"Right, we need you to undress now honey and we'll get everything set up." Steve said before providing a screen for you to take your clothes off. As you did so, you could hear movement on the other side, equipment being moved and a bit of huffing from the doctors.

You peaked around the screen and watched them set up a bench, with a thin flat leather cushion. It looked quite...kinky and you couldn't help feel a twinge of excitement through your body. They turned around and caught you peeking. "Come here sweet thing, nothing to be frightened of..." Bucky said, holding out a hand for you, which you gratefully took after shuffling over, an arm over your breasts as you approached them.

"This is a sort of breeding bench. You have to lay face down on this soft cushion here and we can stimulate you from either end. We can also tilt the bench once you are inseminated to make sure it really takes. You should be nice and comfortable but if you need to move at any time, you just let us know. Any questions so far?"

"Um, how will the...insemination bit happen?" You say quietly, nibbling on your finger and looking between them. "Well we can do it two ways. Either we can use a machine, but that might be a bit uncomfortable..." Steve said, looking at your seriously and you bit your lip. "Oh, what's the other option?" He rubs your back, making your skin tingle, before brushing your hair away from your face. "Dr. Barnes and I are happy to provide samples directly. That way we can adjust to your comfort and monitor you more closely."

Your eyes widened at the thought. You'd had a little bit of first hand experience with their direct approach. They were both very well endowed and you wondered out loud, "do you think I can take you?" They both chuckled and rubbed your arms and back, "absolutely sweetheart, we've done the tests and you're perfect for us... but it's up to you of course..."

There was a beat in the air until finally you nodded. "Let's do it that way. I don't want to be uncomfortable with a machine. Are you sure that's ok?" They nodded quickly and told you it was absolutely fine with them.

"Good, that's really good honey. Are you ready to start?"

They guided you onto the bench, your breasts hung down on either side of the leather and you rested your chin on your folded arms as they positioned your legs into place. You felt remarkably relaxed for the compromising position you were in, but you were in good hands. Hands that were now running over your soft skin, squeezing gently at you making you sigh.

"Feeling good?" Bucky asks, a clear amusement in his voice as his fingers squeeze at your ass cheeks before running down your leg. "Mmm yeah, this is so comfy" you almost moan.

"Good, anything changes, let us know. We'll get started then, just relax and let us do the work."

You try and watch them but it's difficult from your position, so you decide to close your eyes and try and figure it out from the sensations. You think it's Bucky who is settled between your legs, running his hands along your upper thighs, occasionally rubbing across your folds, making you moan quietly into your arms.

Your moan becomes louder when Steve grips your nipple between his fingers and starts squeezing and twisting. In moments you are humping Bucky's hand as he rubs more vigorously along your wet slit. "Good girl, so responsive for us hmm?" Steve mutters in your ear as he pulls and tweaks at you.

"Tell me how it feels" Bucky says and you whine, "feels good...want more please?" You are begging already, but it only seems to make them happy. Steve attaches a suction cup to your breasts which makes you cry out in delight before you feel his hand brush at your hair. You manage to open your eyes as Bucky sinks a finger into your pussy, his thumb rubbing firmly at your clit. "Want something in your mouth honey?" He asks and you moan, nodding your head and reaching for him.

His cock springs free and you immediately latch on, focusing all your tension and desperation on his thick length, sucking harder than you ever had. "Jesus Christ, she's feeling needy today" Steve growls, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts slowly in and out of your mouth.

Bucky, unable to retain his impatience anymore, slips his cock free of his boxers and lines up to your aching heat. Thanks to his excellent preparation he glides in until he is flush with your ass, and begins to rut. You are already fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them open.

"That feel good baby? You like that" he mutters, testing a quick spank to your pretty cheeks as he fucks you. Pausing for air you cry out a yes, before Steve guides you back to him. Tears stream down the face as pleasure rips through your body, their unrelenting pace already making you feel like you are floating on air.

"Gonna make us a baby ain't ya? Gonna be a good girl for us and make us a daddy hmm?" Steve says through gritted teeth as he pulls out of your hungry mouth. He crouches down and presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead. "Nothing I'd like more than to see you swallow my come honey, but gotta save it for your pretty cunt right? We're gonna fill you up.."

You nod and reach your hands out for him which he takes, pressing more kisses to your messy lips. "Already drunk on cock honey? We knew you'd be the perfect little candidate. Like a little bunny ain't ya? Just made for getting fucked and full right?"

As he goads you, Bucky rams his cock faster into your aching hole, his fingers rubbing at your clit from underneath. Your hips buck at the sensations but they have you tied down just enough that any movement doesn't get you very far. "Atta girl, gonna make me come, just keep squeezing me like that sweetness" he groans. The tension builds in your stomach until one final swipe has it snapping, your orgasm ripping through you and clamping down on Bucky.

His groans mix with your wails, as you squeeze Steve's hand even tighter until you drop everything, laying there panting as your lower half twitches. When he's satisfied Bucky pulls out but you suddenly feel Steve slide in and continue the steady pace.

"Ah I can't... S'too sensitive" you cry but Bucky has taken position at your head. "Come on sweetheart, we don't want to waste any samples. You can do it. For us, I know you can..." Steve keeps his hips moving steadily, but not too rough to hurt so you can only let the pressure build again. You watch Bucky fiddle with the suction cup on your breast, the vibrations and suction getting stronger until you can't contain your scream as another powerful orgasm rips through you and Steve is filling you up.

After a moment where you think you must have stopped breathing you feel the table tilt forward and a tape is put over your sensitive pussy. "Did so well for us baby. Gonna leave you here for a bit to get that settled, then we'll do it all again."

"Again?" You cry, not knowing how you could possibly manage another round of that. They chuckle and press a little kiss each to your face. "Yes silly, don't you know it takes lots and lots of goes to make sure it all works. Today's the best day to do it. Although we might even keep you in overnight so we can keep going..."

You begin to protest but Bucky presses another kiss to your face and switches on the suction cups, cutting your voice off immediately and replaces it with a groan. "That's better" he says before providing his thumb for you to suck on which you cant resist as he pushes it passed your lips.

"Don't worry, we want to take care of you sweetheart. We know just what you need..."

⚕️

After a few more rounds you needed to change position, so Bucky picked you up in his strong arms and carried you to a more comfortable couch. From there, they both spent what felt like hours fucking you full.

The idea of getting you pregnant seemed to fill them with an insatiable lust. They fucked you until your holes were aching, each flick to your clit was like agony, but you couldn't resist how good it felt either.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're milking me dry?" Steve groaned through gritted teeth, as you could only mewl in delight. "Aw has our pretty girl gone dumb for cock" Bucky mocked softly as he rubbed your clit while Steve filled you up again.

Bucky swiftly takes his place, pushing your aching pussy apart and spitting on your messy heat. "Fuck!" You cry out, already on the edge as he presses in to you. "Don't let it come out sweetheart, dont wanna waste a drop do you?" You shake your head as he slides in and out, every nerve ending on fire as he does.

"See that little bunny" Steve says, tugging at your aching heat, making your squeal. "That's a pussy being used correctly, filled with come and begging for more... Fucking perfect.."

Your whole body shakes as he keeps rubbing while Bucky groans, unable to contain his orgasm as you come yet again.

"Good girl, take it all, every drop" he moans, wrapping a hand around your throat as he fucks through his release.

Finally they decide to move you somewhere more comfortable and in the space of moving you, you fall asleep so they leave you to rest for a little while.

When you woke there was a jug of water, a bowl of fruit and a plate of sandwiches which you tucked into. While you nibbled you glanced down at your aching heat and found it puffy and overused, but not feeling at all bad about it. Your mind drifted back to when you and your ex husband had tried for a baby and you sometimes never even orgasmed, let alone felt like this. You had realised that all along he had lied to you and made you feel terrible when it was him who was the problem. But you didn't want to dwell anymore on him. It was pointless.

You took in the rest of your body, swollen nipples, little marks from their hands and lips as they had kissed, and bitten and sucked at you. You bit your lip remembering how you had written all these things in your diary to them. Clearly they had taken it very seriously, which you appreciated.

As you were beginning to wonder where they were, they arrived back into the office where they left you. There faces full of brightness at the sight of you awake.

"There's our girl! Are you feeling ok sweetie?" They both took time fussing over you, pressing your tummy for any aches, massaging your legs and hands and pressing cold stethoscopes to your chest making you giggle, as they tried to warm them up but failing.

"I feel fine I promise" you said after calming down and gripping their hands. They both leaned in a pressed a kiss to each cheek, but you felt bold and leaned over to Bucky then Steve, stealing a kiss on the lips from both of them.

"Oh sweetie, you really are perfect ain't ya?" Bucky says, pulling you back for a longer kiss before guiding you over to Steve so he could kiss you deeper, making you moan.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you back in there, you ready?" Bucky says, squeezing your thighs and you nod eagerly. You go to stand but he tuts and slips his arms under you and picks you up, making you squeak and wrap your arms around his neck. "I gotcha" he whispers and you steal another kiss from him, feeling so safe and happy in his arms. Before you are finally released and eagerly climb into place and settle down, wiggling at the anticipation.

⚕️

After a whole day they decide that the work they've done should be enough for now. They take you home in Bucky's car with Steve carrying you up to your apartment, which although you insist ksnt nessecary, you grip him tighter and lay your head on his shoulder. While Bucky unlocks your door Steve presses kisses to your forehead, all of your feeling quite happy with the amount of kisses being passed around.

Seeing the sorry state of your flat you cringe as you go inside. At least you had the forethought to tidy before you went to them the day before.

Bucky finds your pyjamas and once Steve pops down he gently helps you change as if you are precious cargo. You giggle as you tell him so and he smiles at you. "Sweetheart, you are..." He presses a hand to your tummy and you smile back "the most precious as far as we're concerned..."

Your tummy flips with something new but you decide not to worry right now. You feel exhausted despite the many naps you've had. "Ok you gotta sleep, eat and drink as much as possible. Try to leave the shower or bath until tomorrow morning if you can just to be sure." Steve says, placing a big water bottle on your side, with a bag of groceries on your kitchen table, filling up the fridge with healthy but delicious goodies.

"Ok I promise...when do you think I can do a test?" You say, as you snuggle up into your blankets. They explain that you might have to wait until next week, but if it's negative they can just keep repeating the process until it sticks.

You nod, feeling nervous but excited. They both kiss you goodbye and leave. You feel suddenly overwhelmed at the silence, having had such a crazy 24 hours of close, initmate contact. You take a big drink of water before sinking back into your pillows, your eyes fluttering closed as your mind was filled with images of them surrounding you and the pleasure that comes with it.

⚕️

One week later you are waiting nervously in your bathroom, a pregnancy test perched on the sink as you nibble your finger and watch the stopwatch on your phone.

You daren't look. You've been in this position so many times before it just feels horrible. You still have 2 minutes to wait but you feel sick at the thought of what's to come. You fiddle with your phone for a moment until you decide to call Bucky.

He answers almost immediately, concern in his voice. "Hi sweetie, everything ok?" You are a little surprised at his quick answer so you stutter for a bit, which makes him even more worried. Finally you manage to choke out, "I'm fine!" You both take a breath before you restart.

"I'm waiting for a test... Got a few more minutes and I just.... I feel scared..." You say quietly, trying to ignore the tears pricking at your eyes. He sighs at the other end and you know he has a concerned look on his face still.

"It's all ok sweetness. Whatever it says we still got you alright? You don't need to worry becaise Steve and I are with you every step of the way..."

You can only nod as he talks, his warm deep voice filling you with calm. Your phone buzzes as the timer runs out and you take a deep breath. "Ok are you ready?" You say and he tells you firmly that he is and it's going to be fine.

With shaky fingers you turn the test over. A little gasp escapes your lips and he asks with a more stressed voice than he would probably like. "What does it say sweetheart?"

Finally you let out a shaky laugh.

"It's positive"

[psychoticallytrans]

This post is specifically meant to help kids and emerging adults that were not taught what you might not want to share online.

The purpose of not sharing personal information is to make it more difficult to connect up information about you, and especially to make it difficult to connect the "you" online to the "you" offline. The reasons one may want to do this range from maintaining safe relationships outside of an abusive relationship, to making it harder to put together enough information to break into their bank account, to being actively concerned about doxxing and swatting.

For any of these reasons, if you're not completely sure you will be fine having that information on the internet indefinitely, it's best not to share it in the first place. The internet is full of turmoil, but we all know that some posts never die, and that others are archived.

Here's some information that is generally considered a bad idea to share publicly or privately online, with the exception of applying for jobs or working with online financial and legal systems, and some strong alternatives.

Your full legal name, or any particularly distinctive part of your legal name. My first name has less than six hundred people with it in the States. I use a nickname on this blog for a reason. Nicknames are a great alternative to legal names.

Your birthday, especially if you also share your exact age. That allows for people to look for you based on your exact birth date, which is a very powerful piece of information. Unlike your legal name, there's no way I know of to change it. Consider not sharing this at all. For age, "minor" or "adult" are all the information a reasonable person should need.

Your precise location. Big cities, like Tokyo, New York City, or London, have a high enough population to act as a bit of a smokescreen, but as a rule of thumb, stick to stating a local with at least a million people in it. I often just use my time zone, since it's the main thing people need to know online.

There's other information that is questionable to share openly online, particularly your personal phone number and email, but those are the three big pieces of information that it's generally not a good idea to share either publicly or privately. This is because they can be plugged into background checkers and other databases to try to find you offline. The more information you share, the more someone can narrow down who you are. If that is something you are concerned about, consider following these guidelines about what not to share.

I encourage people to add onto and spread around this post.

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[floodkiss]

Say "NO" to Genocide - Call, email, mail your reps (Canada)

Me and my friend spent some time today writing letters to the House of Commons, plus we have been calling MPs daily. I haven't seen too many resources for this floating around on tumblr, so here's a lengthy guide on how to do this plus some sample scripts! Long post ahead since I think it will be most helpful to dump everything in one spot to reference. On desktop, use CTR F/CMD F to search for the topic -> Phone / Email / Letter Mail / Contacts / Demands / Scripts / Fax

Update 1 - Nov 23: Updated emails with "mailto" hyperlinks, edited demands, added fax section, added scotiabank pres fax number.

On the PHONE / General Tips

Introduce yourself and identify yourself as a constituent by providing your postal code or address.

Ask to speak to the MP directly, but do not be surprised if you must speak to the MP’s staff instead. Staff can help move your issue forward.

Give the reason for your call and explain your concern.

Focus on one or two main concerns per phone call. Do not unload on the MP or their staff with all of your political concerns at one time.

Ask clear and pointed questions that require some explanation.

Ask for a commitment to action.

KEEP IN MIND Tips for Calling MPs:

Tell the MP that this issue will matter to you in the next election.

Avoid revealing party affiliation or sympathies. If you show that your vote is already cast for a certain party, the MP may not have the incentive to respond to your requests.

Be as brief as possible while outlining concerns.  Show that you respect their time.

Remain calm and respectful in dialogue. Be willing to work with them.

Follow up: Find out what actions were taken as a result of your call, and respond appropriately.

(Source: CPJ.ca)

CJPME Call Tool - Fill in the form, there will be suggested talking point. The tool will call your phone and then patch you through to your MP. If voicemail, state your concerns in 30 seconds. No address input will default you to call Foreign Affairs Minister Melanie Joly.

EMAIL

Be sure you sign your email with your name and mailing address so they know you are a part of their riding.

You will most likely receive a PR-type response or no response at all, but please still send these. It disrupts operations, and it still contributes to pressuring your MP to act on behalf of your riding.

LETTER MAIL

Mail may be sent postage-free to any member of Parliament at the House of Commons address. You just need to use an MP's full title if they are Cabinet members. Cabinet mebers have "The Honourable" attached to their names.

Postcards are efficient in that they are small pieces of card stock and can be a short message plus demands, no need to get use envelopes.

The Right Honourable Justin Trudeau House of Commons Ottawa, Ontario, Canada K1A 0A6

CONTACTS

Find your MP - ourcommons.ca - Contact the MP of your riding, any of the contacts below, as well as any cabinet members in your city or province.

Prime Minister (613) 992-4211 / justin.trudeau@parl.gc.ca *FAX: 613-941-6900 /*If faxes are closed at the House of Commons line, try their local offices! (See below under "FAX" for fax guide!)

Deputy Prime Minister - Chrystia Freeland (613) 992-5254 / chrystia.freeland@parl.gc.ca FAX: 416-928-2377

Minister of Foreign Affairs - Mélanie Joly (613) 992-0983 / melanie.joly@parl.gc.ca FAX: 613-992-1932

Minister of International Development - Ahmed Hussein (613) 995-0777 / ahmed.hussen@parl.gc.ca FAX: 613-995-0777

Minister of National Defence - Bill Blair (416) 261-8613 / bill.blair@parl.gc.ca FAX: 416-261-5286

Canada-Israel Interparliamentary Group (CAIL) Stéphane Bergeron (*he's not a chair or vice chair of this group, but i want to warn that stephane WILL argue with you, so call after hours if you are scared of confrontation 😭☠️) (450) 922-2562 / Stephane.Bergeron@parl.gc.ca Anthony House-father (Chair) (514) 283-0171 / anthony.housefather@parl.gc.ca Randall Garrison (VC) (250) 405-6550 / randall.garrison@parl.gc.ca Marty Morantz (VC) (204) 984-6432 / Marty.Morantz@parl.gc.ca The Honourable Ya’ara Saks (VC) (416) 638-3700 / yaara.saks@parl.gc.ca

Embassy of Israel (613)567-6450 / FAX: 613-750-7555

DEMANDS

Summarized from resistance groups such as H/mas, H/zbollah, PFLP (Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine), DFLP (Marxist Democratic Front got the Liberation of Palestine), CJPME (Canadians for justice and peace in the middle east), and other anti-war, anti-imperialist, IRL Palestinians.

Canada needs to...

Call an immediate PERMANENT ceasefire to end bloodshed

Send humanitarian aid to Gaza.

Institute embargo on all military exports to Israel

Close the embassies, and sanction Israel diplomatically and economically.

SCRIPTS

Use these as scripts for calling, emailing, and mailing. I suggest adding some of your own sentences and changing the subject lines (for email) so they don't end up in spam.

Example from Canada: Stop Arming Israel - World BEYOND War 

As we mourn the thousands of people in Israel and Palestine who have been killed in the past few weeks we refuse to stand by and allow the only true winners in war — the weapons manufacturers — to continue to arm and profit off of it.

Canada exported over $21 million in military goods to Israel in 2022, including over $3 million in bombs, torpedoes, missiles, and other explosives. - 2022 Exports of Military Goods 

Weapons companies across Canada are making a fortune off of the carnage in Gaza and the occupation of Palestine.

This is a call to action. It's time to stop letting these weapons companies profit off of the massacre of thousands of Palestinians. Find a location near you, get friends and allies together, and interrupt their business as usual to demand they stop selling arms and military technology to Israel.

Send an urgent message to demand Canada stop arming Israel and push for an immediate ceasefire to your Member of Parliament, the Prime Minister, and the Ministers of Foreign Affairs, International Trade, and Defense.

Dear [recipient's full name goes here], We are witnessing genocidal violence playing out in Gaza right now. Thousands of Palestinians have been killed, nearly half of them children. With a blockade on water, electricity, fuel and food, a quarter of all buildings razed to the ground, and over a million people displaced, UN experts have denounced Israel's actions as crimes against humanity. Meanwhile, weapons companies across Canada are arming -- and making a fortune off of -- the carnage in Gaza and the massacre of thousands of Palestinians by selling weapons and military technology to Israel. I am calling on you to do two things: to take immediate action to institute an arms embargo on Israel and to ensure Canada pushes for de-escalation and a ceasefire in Gaza. Sincerely,

Script Sample 2 from Palestinian Youth Movement

^This will open up a pre-written email in your chosen email app or site. Fill in the recipient line with the emails of MPs you wish to contact.

Script Sample 3 from CJPME's Email Campaign

^Complete the form to send an email to Prime Minister Trudeau, your local MP, and the leaders of the NDP, Convervatives and Greens. Canada must OPPOSE A SECOND NAKBA and dispossession of the Palestinians in Gaza by pushing for a ceasefire.

Script Sample 3 for mail:

(a mix of mine and a friend's)

I am writing to ask you to take immediate action to stop the genocide Israel is committing against Palestinians in Gaza as well as the onslaught of those in West Bank.

There is blockade on food, water, electricity, fuel, and the use of internationally banned white phosphorus to exterminate Palestinians. Aid is not able to enter Gaza because of this blockade. UN experts have named Israel’s actions as genocide citing numerous war crimes they continually commit.

While over 10k civilians have been martyr’d (4.2k of which are children), Canada has not even been able to NAME such crimes as genocide or call for an official ceasefire. This is not enough.

Canada needs to:

Call an immediate ceasefire to end bloodshed

Send humanitarian aid to Gaza.

Institute embargo on all military exports to Israel

Close the embassies, and sanction Israel diplomatically and economically.

FAX (NEW!)

Using faxzero.com is simple, just follow up the steps on the website. No fax machine required! Tell officials your demands and customize your letter by noting their complicity based on their role as a politician or gov official. Or keep it brief and simple, in large legible letters. 

Demands could include:

That you are a “Canadian” constituent That you are demanding an IMMEDIATE AND PERMANENT CEASEFIRE IN GAZA; That you demand a total withdrawal of financial (taxpayer) and commercial support and arms for continued occupation in Israel’s 70+ year occupation in Palestine; That it is shameful that [X] is choosing not to speak up for the deaths of more than 11,000 Palestinians, half of whom are children and thousands of others displaced; That Palestinians like all people, deserve life, dignity and justice; That Israel is breaking multiple international laws daily and Canada MUST meet its international commitment to promote and defend human rights under the Geneva Convention; That not putting these actions in place will harm constituents and undo acts of reconciliation with Indigenous peoples and other marginalized communities in Canada by not protecting the Indigenous peoples of Palestine; That unless there is concrete and everlasting action taken place, that there will be no peace until Palestine is free, and subsequently that you will not be voting for them (if applicable) in the next election.

Sign off with your name, address and postal code (if applicable, furthering that you are a resident on the stolen Indigenous lands otherwise known as “Canada”) Extended fax list: Scott thomson (president of scotiabank) - 416-866-5929 joe biden / whitehouse - 202-456-2461

(source: @/harlo.gif on IG)

[kafka-ish]

I think if Art wasn’t as serious about tennis he’d be such a coworker. Maybe it’d be in between summers at Stanford and it’s your first week there. He’s scheduled to train you, show you the ropes but when you first walk in he thinks you’re just another customer, a really pretty customer that’s got him changing up the script. Hey! How’s it going? What can I do for you? Find everything alright? He’s already thinking of ways he can slip you his number, maybe he’ll write it on your receipt. And he’s typing in his ID to give you his discount, anything until you say, “Actually, I work here.”

Art stops typing. Looks up, completely dumbstruck because you’re too pretty to be selling yourself out for some minimum wage corporation, to be doing any sort of labor. You need to be taken care of; any reason you should step foot in here would be to pick out a new tennis racket for a match you have. But you’re here. You work here. So he cancels out the order and says something about how he’ll get you a t-shirt, stay there.

He’ll take you to the back where the employee bathrooms are. You watch his fingers when he punches the numbers. “It’s like a six,” he says, and you think about that every time you use the code to get in. He waits for you outside the door while you’re changing, wishing he could get a glimpse, wishing he could be on the other side. He gets hard just thinking about it. He thinks about the kind of bra you’re wearing, if you’re wearing one, what you look like underneath the fabric. And he thinks you look so cute in that work-issued uniform even if the collar of your shirt isn’t folded over correctly - it only gives him the urge to reach over and fix it. Sorry, he says when he retracts his hand and sees the look you give him. He doesn’t mean it, not entirely, by the way a smile starts working its way on his face.

Art would give you a tour before you get started. He wants to show you around and he loves that he gets to be the first one to make an impression. Fucking revels in it. But he’s also weighted with the worry of making a good impression so some of his delivery is awkward: this is the stockroom it’s where we get stuff to… stock / we separate brands in sections so if someone asks where adidas is you can point to the three lines back there / managements making us ask everyone if they wanna round up their change but you don’t have to. I just ask anyone who’s paying cash. Or if they’re cute. The system makes you put their email in. He flushes a little because he doesn’t know why he says that last part.

I think Art would be so patient when he’s training you. He would take his time to over-explain everything and he doesn’t realize he comes off sounding like a douche. Telling you what all the buttons mean and asking if you want to come with him when he’s about to stock something just so you can see where it is for next time, obviously. But it’s just an excuse to talk to you!! He doesn’t know how and he figures since you both work there it’s an easy in and you think it’s so adorable that because it’s a slow day he’s pretending to be your first customer, gathering random items, having you scan them, and reminding you to ask if he wants to round up his change for charity.

“Not today”

“Okay, your total will be—”

“Hold on. You don’t want my email?”

“Well, you said no so…”

“No. Convince me. Really try and convince me.”He wants to know what lengths you’d go for him if this is how you’d happen to meet. So you say, okay it’s for this charity you guys are having.

“Say it’s for homeless animals. They eat that shit up,” Art lets you in on this piece of information like the manipulator he is.

“Is that what you do?”

And Art would make sure to stay near you just in case you need something, always bags the customers’ items so you can focus on the transaction. He loves the way you say his name, how timid you are when you whisper Art when you need help. He imagines that’s how you say it when he’s eating you out.