#(yes the pacifism lead to her demise in the end)

[engagemythrusters]

clone wars was fr like “No you lemur aliens CANNOT be pacifist. Don’t you know staunch pacifism is bad and will not keep you and your loved ones safe?!” but then the moment a blonde girl shows up the message was “oh wow well that’s different! So interesting! We will have rational conversations about your perspective and why you can have it!” despite the fact that it was at the detriment of the Mandalorian culture.

[ask-the-loveable-lilth]

Part four of the feral brothers based on the game of Obey Me! Shall we date otome game. Enjoy a picture of 6 in his winter clothes. The poor thing is mentally unhinged.

“9...! 9! It’s me, 6!” The boy scream into the snow storm, ready to tear up. “9! I’m sorry! I know that you didn’t approve of me sleeping with any humans to save you and the others...!” He yelled and turned as he heard the voice again, this time singing. 6 fell and crawled and ran as much as he could while walking in the snow for the first time in his life. “9, please...” he begged the voice of what sounds like his sister. “I didn’t want to sleep with the disgusting guards! Or with the other humans that visited to laugh at our own demise or pitying us! But I didn’t want you to be sacrificed to the demons! Like Mom and Dad! I wanted the other kids that we took in saved, you were so motherly and kind! I knew that you would be a good mother yourself if I had to sleep with anyone and everything. I want you back...if I didn’t sleep with that girl that night, I would have saved you! Or died with you! 9, please... I don’t want you to ignore me anymore...” 6 bawled as he collapsed to the snow and cried. Giving in to the cold and feeling his body shutting down.

“6! 6? 6! Where’d you go? For a weakling, he sure does get far.” 13 said, a little while later, becoming more lost. “I hate this...there’s snow everywhere, I can’t find the vehicle or 6...I should have never had brought him with me...this is all my fault...” 13 said as whispers of agreed with her statement that reminded her of an old friend. “That...that can’t be him...he died at the sacrifice while he protected me and told me to run...don’t listen, 13...” she told herself as she squinted though the snow, seeing a shadow bend down and pick up something. “6! I’m coming!” The girl yelled as she ran to the shadow. “6, please we have to go back to find...” the words that she was about to say left her mind. She stared up at the demon that held the body of 6. “6, no! Let him go!” 13 demands to the demon. It wore a cloak and a soft jingle sound came from underneath the cloak. Their fingers wrapped around 6’s leg and arm, carrying him bridal style against their body. A growl emitting from underneath the cloak as the demon ran off. “6!” 13 yell and climb up a tree, before hopping trees to go after the demon without the snow slowing her down. “Drop 6 right now!” She said, before the voices returned even louder than before. This trips her up.

“It’s your fault!”, “we’d be happy with you in our place, you should have died for us sooner!”, “This is why we gave you over!”, but the others were nothing to the soft spoken and angelic voice that reminded her of the boy that she had taken in as her brother for protection. “Give up, 13...then we can finally be a family without the demons lurking around and the humans killing us off. Please, 13... please just give up, I want you to come be here with me...” he whispered softly as if he is next to her, giving her a hug. 13 nearly fell from the tree, as she pulled the throwing stars to hit something, anything.

“My brother wouldn’t ever say that! Come out, demon! I’m here to rewrite the past! The world is heading for a second holy war and I have to prevent it!” 13 yells at the snowstorm. Her words seems to have put a halt to the storm and the same cloaked demon appeared in front of her, their fingers weren’t sharp, but the air around them seemed to state a different story. A bell jingle from beneath their cloak and a cow’s tail swayed underneath the cloak being slightly visible from the light of the snowy sky and the snow below the two. A breeze kicked in and took the hood off the demon, leaving 13 to stare at the male. Sharp teeth lined his smug smile, his darkened hair had spots of white. A bell hung from the collar around his neck and his look was a bit more human than she was expecting. The cloak flutter behind him as the demon side really showed there. His legs are similar to a cow’s and his body was definitely more prepared to fight a human. That would explain the town and such. The town offers the people that drive though the town and lets the demon have food anytime without summoning it constantly. “Where’s 6? The other wizard who is traveling with me? What’d you do to him?” 13 asked angrily and pulled out a dagger from her boot.

“He’s fine if you can answer my questions, witch. If not, you’re going to be too late to save the boy. Though Asmo might be angry at me if I eat something that is as gorgeous as he is without Asmo getting his fingers on him first to get a taste of him. I suppose I wouldn’t mind sharing something with Asmo for once...” he mumbled as he seems to be talking to himself. “I think that I’ll do that instead... but first...you know how to save my brother? Answer truthfully and you might get him back in one piece.” He said.

“You’re...Belphgor...?” 13 asked, confused and tilt her head. “I didn’t expect this...so strange and weird...” 13 seems to be engrossed with this new info until his words finally set in. “I mean, yes. I know the way to get everyone else back to how they were centuries ago, Belphgor. But I only have leads, ideas and such. First, I had to find Beelzebub, then I found out that he’s visiting you... I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing but I guess...” 13 said. “My spell book said that I have to endure a curse of each of the seven brothers to get access to devildom. I endured gluttony...several hundreds of my people are dead though... and now, sloth...I can handle the nap, honestly...”

“You’re enduring the sloth curse already, along with your travel partner. If you had just been a little bit faster...maybe everything you cared about wouldn’t end up with fire, human. Maybe if you didn’t unleash the curse of my brother’s, you wouldn’t have killed everyone that the male is crying over. And at this rate, if you don’t keep running around in circles, thinking that you’re getting closer to him, he’s going to be dead either way. So what’s this about a holy war, human? Be careful... if you don’t answer correctly, I’ll let my brother and I take a bite each before we send him to Asmo to fix up and finish off.” Belphgor said calmly.

“6! He’s...no, you...” 13 stared at the other, giving in. “Us witches and wizards are becoming more and more rare...soon humans are next... and once you run out of humans... I was told that angels will be able to have an excuse to kill every demon if the humans are in danger from demons...I want to prevent the war and save my people.”

“You’re a greedy little brat...Mammon is going to have a field day with you...you’re doing it for your people? Not for us demons? Not for the human realm? Not for the angels...heh...I’ll make sure to tell him that you are just that selfish and incredibly inconsiderate to everyone...”

“I’m not...selfish...am I?” 13 asked herself out loud and shook her head, not going to let the demon get into her head. “Give me 6 now!” She demanded.

“Sorry, witch...selfish creatures don’t get to have what they want... but I’m happy to say that your partner is going to be fine. We sent him to the avatar of lust in Tokyo. You’ll meet Levi along the way in the Pacific Ocean. I’d recommend that you hurry up before the wizard gives into the lust from Asmo. Then you’re going to be too late to save him.”

“I still don’t get what time has to do with this!” 13 said angrily.

“That’s simple, my dear...if you’re late to something, that means that you’re too slow to make things right. Now, let’s give you a hand...” he smirked and put a finger under her chin and kissed 13, resulting in her passing out from his kiss.

[ginwhitlock]

Southbound  ch 1/ ch 2

After the Cullens leave her behind, Bella is left to pick up the pieces by herself. A year after her eighteenth birthday, a split second decision lands her in her truck, running far away from everything she has ever known. She decides to go south. What will she find in San Angelo, Texas?

One day I’m going to have to admit to my demise. The casket will be small and the rain will be pouring like it does everyday there. Charlie’s eyes will puff up like abandoned birthday party balloons in the desert heat-- and I will not be there to dry them. The church parking lot is gonna look like a high school reunion. A maze of junkers that never quite made it out of Forks, the high heels of my former friends swapped out for rain boots.

After a tearless goodbye from a pastor I never met and school acquaintances I never spoke to, the purple haze of my childhood bedroom will be packed into brown cardboard boxes. Like I didn’t live there at all. As if my mark on the world only existed in our-- my meadow.

I could feel the curl of dandelion weeds at my back pocket but refused to move an inch. His ochre eyes were spun as thick as honey as he laid beside my body. There was a gleam of something I couldn’t place in the part of his lips, but I returned the smile with my own. The press of cold flesh spread through my neck, down my spine, through my toes and into the mush under his shoes.

In the small blink of my lashes his form disappeared into the air.

The bed of wildflowers around me turned to ash before I could reach for him. All I could smell was nothing like the forest and everything like a bonfire left wild. The flames crawled towards me, my body refusing to budge in its wake. My head screamed to just MOVE.

My eyes opened to a blurry mass of nothing. Tears rolling down my cheeks, their path as uncertain as my whereabouts as I raised up on my elbows. They dried before I could wipe them away.

The pads of my fingers found the line of ancient stitching on the bench seat like a security blanket. My rapidly blinking eyes rolled around the cab in an untraceable pattern. The windows were clear and still, the leather beneath my backside warm to the touch. I could see my reflection in the silver lining the dashboard, the dark blanche underneath my eyelids clenched at my tired heart

There were no flowers. No meadow. No him.

Sitting up completely, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was carrying. The rushed exhale through my cracked lips brought my lungs to the dip of my ribs-- the familiar ache pulling the back of my skull taut.

Outside, the swell of Texas sun rises just beyond a gathering of trees. I can’t remember how I got here, the smell of asphalt long gone. Instead a dirt road lined my eyesight. It gave far too little clue to my immediate surroundings. Above me the sky was as clear as the south gets and the ground solid like beaten down gravel-- but no road signs. No mile markers.

I can’t even see behind the horizon.

The air in the cab became overcrowded with my fear, the push and pull of breath fogging up the chilled glass. I feel like a child left behind in a supermarket. Unreadable ques leading me farther and farther into the swamp of confusion.

My tires sat flat against the path, just beside it, as if I had just turned off to get some shut-eye. But why here? The middle of absolute nowhere? Had I learned nothing from the nomad with the hair like my forest fire?

My hand twisted the ignition before I could stray to the silver scar on my right wrist. It’s memory glinting in the corner of my mind.

All I can get out is the sputter of the motor, a failed attempt to rise the slumbering beast.

Another hard turn returns with the same groan.

I could feel the sweat start to slide down the expanse of my back in a winding trail. The salt water seeping into the flannel pushed up around my hips in a faux blanket. My palms slid around the wheel-- the leather close to splitting.

Me too, baby. Me too.

The door handle started to whisper to me. A stupid notion to leave the steel barrier hung onto the interior in flashing chrome.

I should've taken that damn cell phone Charlie tried to buy me last year. I could’ve at least called a tow. Maybe found out where in the hell I was-- but no. Who did I need to call back then? A boy who could pick out my heartbeat in a sea of a hundred exhausted teenagers? The press of my scent to his senses would’ve said everything I need to say anyway.

But now, no almost-not-quite-humans with super hearing as far as I could see.

The rusted-out Chevy felt more and more like a cage by the minute. A rushed push of the door frame threw my feet to the red dirt. A careful hand skimmed along the side of the truck as I followed the structure to the bed in a half-creep.

My ears were hypersensitive to the billow of wind blowing through the tops of the oak trees. The motion reminded me of the run on Edwar-- the creature’s back through the forest. Normally unwatchable to my dull eyes, but on his back I could see the restlessness of the air, the ever moving flight of dragonflies and underground wonders. Well up until I had the urge to puke.

I couldn’t say the sight of the wavering treeline didn’t give me the same feeling.

My entire body jumped nearly out of my skin at the sound of metal slapping something solid. My back clenched, the hair on the back of my nape sent sky-high.

“Down girl, it’s alright, no need to get all bug-eyed on me now.” A man’s voice came from a few feet behind me. My mind raced with the decision to face him or not. To see the person who would finally take me out. Or to lay down and leave the world not knowing the monster’s face.

A rough hand on my shoulder stops my thoughts in their measly tracks.

“You know,” A deep breath let out just behind me bounced off the metal of the truck back into my ear, “I don’t know many people that stray over to these parts real often. You must not be from around here, miss.” His hand turned my body to face him, the packed dirt underneath my sneakers scuffing into the silent air. My body felt as though it was under a spell. A rabbit held under the jaws of a coyote.

His smile caught me off guard.

It was no show off teeth, carnivore-sharp grin. It was a gentle pull of lips. A soft rose blush underneath the skin. The rest of his face was shadowed by the brim of a worn leather cowboy hat, his eyes masked slightly by it. Dragging my eyes down, I could almost feel the cotton of his button-up. It looked lovingly washed, as if it was worn for decades and not weeks. His Wranglers were in the same predicament. A smudge of what looked like motor oil stained into the crease of his knee, a rip could be easily seen by his ankles. And on his feet-- matching cowboy boots. The spurs had the same metal of his belt buckle in a vintage way, I could almost see him buying them as a set in some small town in the middle of Mexico.

“Sweetheart I know I’m good lookin’ and all but I did ask you a question a lil’ while ago…” He trailed off, his mouth set in a teasing upturn.

My eyes went wide, the fear lifting off my shoulders oddly by his tone. “I… Yes. You could say I’m not from around here.” The sentence tumbled out with a small thought of protecting myself. Keeping myself alive was first-- even if the apparent cowboy held himself like warm butter, quirked and sweet.

His brow lifted.

“You’re as closed off as a heifer in the dry season ya know that?”

His hand left my shoulder and held themselves up in mock surrender before placing them on his belt. His hip made contact with the side of the truck while starring me up and down. His eyes dragged up my fingers to my shoulder up to my lips and nose. My chest constricted with self consciousness.

The man in front of me rivaled every human boy I’ve ever met-- well man I’ve ever met. His legs, drawn out with a long line of denim, his shoulders square and broad. He looked older than He was, if anything he reminded me of Jasper.

The wavy blond hair peeking out of his hat, curling around his laid back collar. The stone corners of his shaded jaw. The slightly tanned skin, made from working fields I didn’t need to see. Even the fullness of his lips reminded me of the veteran vampire.

When his eyes landed on my own I realized-- he was waiting for me to speak again.

With a deep breath through the nose I managed to start, “I’ve been traveling from Fo-- the Pacific Northwest for a couple months. I got into Texas not too long ago.” A simple nod from his covered head prompted me to keep going, not commenting on my change of location. “I was just north of Lubbock last night. I woke up in my truck not long ago, but I’m not too sure where I am to be honest.” A low breath left my throat when I finished.

His stature straightened and I could now see how truly tall he was. He towered over me by a foot, almost. His mouth opened in a toothy smile and my brain clicked.

“Oh my god is this your land? I’m so sorry I didn’t know this was private land, my truck won’t start and I--” My ramble was suddenly cut off by a guttural laugh.

“Missy! You act like imma gonna what? You think imma skin your hide for wonderin’ onto this piece of dirt? C’mon now. Lemme getchu you somethin’ before you fall over dead.”

His back turned to me almost too fast. His form started to trek across to the treeline, his boots leaving indiscernible footprints into the rocky ground. I started to run to catch up and then stopped myself. Why would I follow this man? Did I have no self preservation? I didn’t even know him, no beachy waves or shiny belt buckle would be worth maybe dying over!

“Are you comin’ or what missy? I need to call my brother about your truck, so we gotta go to the house. It’s not far I promise.”, he yelled from the treeline, somehow persuading me to inch forward, heel to toe, towards him. My brain lost in the end, my pace quickening until I was right on his tail.

His neck turned to look me dead in the face, the shadow from his hat casting over the both of us for a moment. It was the most serious look I had seen on him in our short time together. It was almost soldier-like.

“I never asked.”

My eyebrows pinched together. “Asked what?”

“Your name, darlin’.” His face broke, smiling in a childish way, making it look like the simplest thing in the word.

My thoughts of self preservation long gone, I responded, “...Bella.”

His smile widened.

“Peter. Peter Whitlock.”

[marvellovegalore]

To do what Lovers do.

Anthony Stark.

requested prompt: fluff no.10 ‘i owe you everything’

synopsis: you and tony have dinner together, you both truly realise the extent of your devotion towards one another.

author’s note: there’s truly not plot, i was just excited to put something out for you guys after so long - anon that requested probably forgot about this - i’m sorry.

warning: Explicit Language

“I wish I could stop this moment in time.” He says suddenly.

She lifts her eyes from her plate and is immediately transfixed by the dewy, mahogany pools that are his eyes. “What?” there’s a tinge of laughter to her question.

He licks his lips and takes a soft sip of his red wine. “I wish I could stop this moment in time.” He smiles, an assured and loving smile graces his pink lips. “I want to stay in this moment forever, you know, just you and me.” He sighs, an almost desperate look paints his eyes. “We’ll just stay here, and the rest of the world - it can go fuck itself.” He chuckles and reaches out for her hand.

Their fingers tangle together as she laughs at him, the notes that roll off of her tongue are sweet music to him. The type of noise that sounds like a newly discovered favourite song. He wishes he could hear it again for the first time and fall in love all over again.

Her eyes cast briefly to the city across the darkened ocean, “Maybe that’s a good idea, Stark.” She chuckles and strokes his knuckles one by one. “Right now though?”

The boat sways twice as Tony ponders, “We’ll just have to pick up the dogs. And the dummy.” He adds at the end quietly causing his girlfriend to laugh. “But I really wish we could. You know, being an Avenger,” he sighs and his free hand goes to hold up his chin, his eyes never leaving her, “it really does take a toll on you. God, your back rubs are heavenly but they can only do so much after a pounding from an alien army.” He laughs, but she can sense the pain he’s feeling.

She sighs, a deep desire to heal him and being unable to hurt her. She bites her lip before sighing, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “No doll, it’s absolutely not your fault, you have absolutely nothing to apologise for. I apologise to you.” The hazy look in his eyes deepens as he continues to admire her, his ankle brushing up against hers. “I’m not there as much as I should be, I’m not present for some of the most important times and I come back with ugly scars and more traumas. I’m a mess.” He takes a deep breath and a light cloud of tears floats over her irises. “But you accept me.”

He leans back in his chair, their hands still tangled together. She smiles sweetly, “It’s because I love you. I love you more than anything. Maybe even more than I love the dogs.” They both laugh, their faces reflecting each other. Her lips continue to hang open, immaterial professions of love wanting to leave her lips.

She should say more.

But it’s enough for Tony, even if she doesn’t know it. He feels his heart melting and his organic operating system halt for mere seconds. He’s sure he’s never felt love or devotion from anyone like he has from her.

She has, in fact, arranged a completely secluded dinner for them both. A luxury yacht, not belonging to him, floats kilometres away from the west coast. It’s just them, dining atop of the Pacific Ocean in the dead of the night. Candles surround them, with petals of soft smelling flowers scattered on the floor. No one has ever even thought of doing that for him.

“I love you too.” He almost sings those four words. He feels a pressure on his heart, and he knows it’s not from the threat of death, but it’s in fact from feeling more alive than ever before. “Let’s dance.” He stands and lifts her up, their hands never departing from each other.

Her smile adds an extra dosage of light to the atmosphere. He leads her away from the table and to the area with more space, his arm encircles her silkened waist. The silk dress feels like water against his fingers and it’s divine to him.

Her arm wraps around his neck and her fingers grip on tighter to his. Her fingers at the nape of his neck sliver to his hair, they swim in the gelled mahogany locks. She steps closer to him as he softly commands for the music to get louder and change to something more complementary. His attention is quickly back onto her and they’re trapped into their own little space again.

They sway, as if they were on ice, their feet move effortlessly on the floor and tangle together in perfection. Her fingers slip slightly from his as he spins her around.

She should hold him tighter.

He finishes spinning her around and holds her tightly again. His arm locks against her body and he wished he could really keep her here forever. Instead, he finds himself being trapped slowly into her eyes, there are galactic stars dancing in them.

As he lowers himself onto one knee, the stars in her eyes brighten wildly. The light fog of tears that misted over her irises before comes back and this time the tears fall.

“If there is a time and a place, it’s now, isn’t it?” The question that slips past his lips is rhetorical. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I stopped waiting for the admiration I feel for you to die. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never finish loving you.” He pauses for a mere few seconds, their fingers still interlocked. “I tried to figure out for countless hours in different labs in the world, how you make me feel the way I do - so strongly; never got anything conclusive. And I guess I have to hold on tight to that, keep that only person that I’ve ever truly fallen in love with, with me.

And y/n, I can conclusively say that marrying you is the only answer I got from those countless hours of research. I owe you everything. Absolutely everything.” She shakes her head at his last words but he nods in contest.

“Marry me?” He brings out a maroon box from his inner blazer pocket.

She recognises the ring. It’s his mother’s ring.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” The tears roll down her cheeks.

She should accept quicker.

Maybe they should finish their dinner early.

So they won’t wake up late tomorrow. So that won’t set out late to jog together. So things don’t pan out wrong for some reason.

“Yes, yes, of course, Tony.” The tears fall from her eyes.

Suddenly the boat rocks aggressively, his glass of wine falls off of the table - causing a ringing noise to strike their ears. Their hands part from the sudden shock - and Tony feels like he’s lost his oxygen.

Her vision gets blurry, as suddenly Tony closes his lips around her cheeks, leaving countless kisses on her face. She bats her eyelids, a sudden harsh light impacting her view and blinding her for a few moments.

A ceiling comes into view. Her bedroom ceiling. It’s always the first thing she sees after her recurring dream. The white bedroom ceiling. And then her dog’s snout enters her vision as he licks the side of her face. She pushes his face away and wipes his saliva off of her face. “Christ.” she huffs and sighs.

She swings her head to the side, looking outside of the window.

It’s as if the sun decided that since Tony went missing from earth, it no longer had a purpose to serve. The deaths of billions of people and disappearances of loved ones plunged the world into disarray and when the Avengers were nowhere to be found - chaos ensued.

People turned to dust. Without explanation. No amount of research from scientists or reassurances from politicians - those that were left - gave humankind the necessary satisfaction.

Without Tony, everything went to shit. As soon as he left earth everything started to go black. Half of the Avengers were dead and she never ventures into the shallow waters of thinking of Tony’s demise in outer space. She’s already died enough solely from thinking about how he’s missing and suffering.

A bark from the dog makes her snap out of it. It takes her fifty minutes to get out of bed, as it usually does. The look of hunger in the dog’s eyes as she walks into the kitchen hurts her. Maybe she hasn’t treated him as well as she used to since Tony’s been gone. There are still four bowls for her to put food in. She fills up one with water and the other with food and watches as her oldest pup devours his breakfast - at three o’clock in the afternoon. She stares longingly at the other two bowls that belonged to her youngest dog, who was also a victim of whatever killed half of the earth’s population.

She wants to die.

But she can’t because she has to feed her dog.

Her thoughts often drift to the desire she has deep down to have also been a victim of whatever killed billions of people. She curses whatever natural selection chose that she’s worthy of living. She just wants to die - especially since he’s not here to suffer from her death, he won’t have to mourn if he doesn’t know she’s dead.

“Is this thing on?” It’s a tiny, muffled sound. It plays from the ajar door of her office. Her eyes squint in question but her feet remain planted to the ground. “Hey, Miss y/l/n.” She gulps.

It feels like her entire world has stopped, halted suddenly by the command of his voice. But she puts it back into motion when she runs into her office and tries to identify where the muffled noise is coming from.

“If you find this recording don’t feel bad about this...”

It’s him. It’s Tony. His voice plays from his helmet on her desk, that he gave her years ago.

She can’t stop the tears, they fall on their own accord as she holds the helmet. They fall ceaselessly as he tells her of his plight, she feels useless. She can’t do anything. She begged him, begged him to get off of that ship.

And now he’s dying. And what can she do? She’s not heroic like him. Her back can’t withstand the pounding from an alien army, she’s weak unlike him.

His voice dies out. She can’t figure out when he recorded it. But she doesn’t want to think that it was from long ago. It can’t be. He can’t be dead - he’s Anthony Stark. The love of her life. He can’t be dead.

A sensation of not being totally ready to give up rips itself through all the clogged up sadness in her body, the motivation fights its way to her heart. She feels a purpose all of a sudden.

She holds up the helmet, the eyeholes glint with Tony’s technology. And she knows what to do. She’ll do what lovers do.

Save him.

[srseattlestreetnews]

Seattle Street News 58, End of an Era

Announcement:

[Dear Tipster Army, I need to make a sad announcement. I’m afraid to tell you all that this is the last issue of the Seattle Street News. I have lived in Seattle for many years. I made it my chosen home and it is the place that I love with all my heart. I have served this city and its denizens in the shadows to the best of my ability for as long as I could. I have made some wonderful contacts and I love the Tipster Army. But my time in the city has unfortunately come to an end. I have never told you all my name, and I still won’t. However, I will tell you this. I am a citizen of Tir Tairngire. Yes, that’s right, I have a national SIN. But my relationship with my family’s legacy was not something I wanted. Instead, I wanted to be here with you all. And I figured I could live here with you all doing good. And I think I did that.

But I just learned that my older sister has been assassinated, leaving me the only one to carry on my family’s obligations. I was told I have a “choice.” Come home and do good for the people of Tir Tairngire voluntarily, or be kidnapped and brought back to Tir Tairngire against my will. I negotiated being able to remain here these last few weeks so I could finish up my business in the Metroplex. But now I must go back.

So farewell Emerald City, as I go on to take on the leadership position I was born into but never asked for, know that I have been forever changed by serving you all. I hope it will make me a better leader. Know that you will always have a strong advocate and ally in Tir Tairngire.

Thank you for being in my Tipster Army. I am always at your service.

--The Seattle Street News elf]

International News:

Space Station Battle

Something was launched out of that mysterious facility at Sekondi. It is now clear what that was: a space station. Whatever this space station is, it seems to be very important.

This became clear when a number of different competing corps space forces all attacked this space station at once. There was a pitched battle between a number of corporate forces and after the battle was over, Saeder-Krupp held a press conference saying that the space station was now theirs. This itself might be odd but not particularly noteworthy…except for one other element of the press conference. Without prompting, the SK press secretary stated that the space station had nothing to do with the demise of the dragon Brennus. That denial raises quite a few questions. Specifically, what exactly does that space station have to do with the death of Brennus? Note the next story.

 Dragon Council Declares the Demise of Brennus

This week, the Dragon Council put out a short press release announcing that Brennus, the dragon formerly known as Prince, who carved a swath of destruction through Seattle a few months ago and who was perhaps connected to a fringe cult known as the Hand of Dusk, met its demise. They noted that the dragon either died or was forever trapped in an unknown metaplane and that it will never be seen again. They did not take any questions.

 Corp News:

Cheer Up—(by 8)

This night was NeoNET’s annual Thank you party for its Seattle execs. DoughNET donuts were a success, NeotenIQ had managed the double feat of creating no scandals and sticking with NeoNET. Guests were welcomed at NeoNET’s Blast from the Past club by bouncers and other security staff. Their fluorescent blue wigs and formal suits adorned with BeyonZ’s signature multicolored ribbons were great for BeyonZ fans, ridiculous otherwise.

All the familiar faces were there: Gaeaca and her security detail, Donnie “Top Gun” Deckard  at his bar, the X Will “brothers”, Sagetopian retelling the events of his short-lived electoral campaign. Getting reacquainted with coworkers not seen in months, exchanging news of XOGirlWonder who’d left since last time. The excellent champagne was from 2069, the last decent year for French wines, and there was still a stack of cases in Donnie’s office.

It had been a pretty good year for NeoNET but the atmosphere at the Blast from the Past was gloomy. The arcade in the back was broken, sure, but Techiecarer was on it. The Red Gods were supposed to play music and they were late, but the reruns of the latest Matrix Competition more than made up for it. Recent rumors of a run on Pacific Rim by a dragon-led anti-corporation group could mean impending danger for NeoNET. Could even this explain the end-of-the-world mood?

The sudden grating of chairs dragged on the floor drowned the chatter. NeoNET employees were standing up and turning their heads toward BeyonZ as he climbed onstage: “Please welcome my friends, The Red Gods. Tonight we are raising funds for the wife of their lead singer Larry, whose charred body… Well, we all know what happened. It was so heartbreaking when I told Lily on our second meeting... THE RED GODS.”

The man who had accepted that I sit at his table interrupted our small talk mid sentence and told me in his French accent: “It’s funny. Ze story about zem on Kappa reminded me of something my young étudiante told me…” His student was a friend of Ma1nfram3’s and the Blast from the Past star had easily got him access to the private event. Go figure why he was curious about a NeoNET corporate night, though. “By ze way, she just passed her GED”, he added, proud.

The four musicians who were ushered into the bar and replaced BeyonZ under subdued applause were clearly recognizable from the security footage featured on BeyonZ’s show. While they kneeled down and opened their instrument cases, their leader addressed the patrons gathered in a wide semi-circle around the stage: “Thanks for inviting us tonight. This performance is brought to you by... VORACK.” The hail of bullets that followed was more heard than seen through the dense smoke of a grenade thrown at the crowd.

Light clapping turned into screams. Tables and chairs became shields. Glass shattered and a few bodies collapsed in a matter of seconds that felt like an hour. The BeyonZ lookalikes, springing into action, staved off the panic, restored order in the nascent chaos. Three of them ditched their festive attire and assisted the bleeding victims. The Red Gods, having made their bullet point in 7.62 font, disappeared into the night. They were definitely more in their element running in the shadows than singing in the spotlight. The French guy was too busy taking notes on his pad to freak out while I recorded everything with my eye, the two of us drawing bravery from the other’s behavior.

A live, eerily silent, Kappa stream replaced the Corporate motivational fare and cheesy music nobody had given attention to in a while: four guys running toward a waiting van, smokin AKs in hand; a platoon of blue-haired orks and buff humans running after them. They were led by led by Angel Mallet, the famous troll captain I had winked at when seeing him posing as a waiter.

The trid followed the ruckus, passed over half a dozen puzzled youngsters clad in black jackets adorned with a flaming pumpkin. On a sign of their leader, who was wearing a weird mask combining a skull and bunny ears, an assortment of bats and light guns went poof in a flash. By the time the van’s roars and screeching tires made all present in the bar wince and instinctively look at the stream, this Halloweener detachment, their thunder stolen from them, had dispersed and vanished. Whatever they had been up to would be left for another day.

Minutes later. The puddles of blood caused by cuts on glass shards as much as bullets had dried up. NeoNET’s top brass had regrouped. The unflappable Techiecarer had fixed the arcade in the commotion. Except for the prominent bandage on Gaeaca’s arm, none seemed injured. They were giving reassuring news to the Corporate News guy, who had just put on his emergency uniform in front of us: a formal navy blue jacket, crisp white shirt and black tie over short, light blue distressed pants. My new friend said these jorts, as he called them, were “all ze rage in France, ze summum of elegance.” Donnie emerged from his office, beaming, dancing to Galaga’s 8-bit tune. Two cases were tucked under his arms. If Saeder-Krupp was still after NeoNET, if his beloved bar could still live wild nights, then the world was not ending after all and it was time to celebrate: “This champagne will not drink itself, guys”, he said as I was leaving.

 City News:

Mysterious Battle in the Barrens; The Death of a Becky

Something odd happened yesterday. There was a large firefight in the Barrens. That itself is not so odd considering firefights happen all the time in the Barrens. What was odd this particular fight was who the combatants were. Three opposing, enemy gangs, The Red Hot Nukes, The Rusted Stilettos, and Crimson Crush all inexplicably teamed up to assault warehouse that was being guarded by a few different shadowrunning teams. The details of the fight are shrouded in mystery—no one is talking. It was clearly important, with a lot of resources being spent over this abandoned warehouse. People wanted in, and other people wanted to make sure they didn’t get in. The warehouse is now all abandoned as if nothing ever happened. I imagine whichever Corps hired those runners have moved on and no one cares anymore about this warehouse. Isn’t that always how these pitched battles take place? Mad violence that is life and death, and then when the mission is over, everyone moves on. But in matters of life and death, sometimes people die. And in this particular instance, one of our shadowrunners died.

Scarlet Fyre has long been one of our favorite runner teams. The AAA runners who intrigue with their low profile mystique. Who doesn’t love the Twins, or Legs? Well, yesterday, the leader of Scarlet Fyre, who we’ll call Becky—because she had such great hair—died in that battle. It is unclear how she died, but the SSN learned that she died in battle high up in her sniper’s perch. Not a lot is known about her, but fixer contacts had only the best things to say about her professionalism and reliability. One thing that was said multiple times by multiple fixers: Becky was honorable in all of her dealings. She never played corps against each other just to make extra money. If her Scarlet Fyre were bought, they stayed bought and they always completed their mission with excellence and discretion. People often think of runners as criminals and trash or as menaces, but the best runners are experts and professionals. They may be doing a dirty job, but you can do it well and honorably or you can do it shoddily or in an underhanded way. Scarlet Fyre played hard, but they always were professional, much of that was down to Becky.

The SSN pours a drink out to you. The shadows will be less interesting without you in it.