#aid is so required chat

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

scribbled da hek outta this doodle so idk what type of style it is but its cute anyway sdnsifbsnd

This chapter ended up being twice the length I thought it'd be, and is a whole lot of just Starscream and Hashtag talking about an assortment of things. There's a good bit of silliness, like the ridiculous strain of conversation surrounding nicknames (the Hashbrown thing I got in my head from @the-sheep and their lore. Which doesnt totally align with my characterization of Star admittedly, but with my brother having been the one to point out that Sprite [the nickname for spitfire] is also a soda brand, the dots were connecting XD). Then there's some actual serious talk as well, that has a bit of sus, because of course.

Previous Chapter: A Game Of Charades

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Scientific Method

Chapter 17: Helm In The Cloud

These past quartexs had been…odd. To put it lightly. 

The data cycling through Starscream’s processor was filled with strange, corrupted files that he couldn’t seem to access, aided by far too many painful memories to quantify. Although, in the past deca-cycle with the Maltos, he’d found himself remembering, or even creating, more pleasant events. 

The Malto brats could actually be…rather endearing. Of course, Hashtag was always his favorite. Anyone who said they didn’t favor a particular individual within a group was flatly a liar, a tactic which he could of course appreciate; since he’d only admit his favoritism blatantly to Hashtag herself, after all. She had by far the best style of spunk about her, as she easily dealt out smooth bouts of sass paired with her equally patient and excitable nature. Her strong determination when decided upon a task, was admirable, even. Hashtag would have made a great Decepticon! Although he supposed that…wouldn’t be a compliment to her.

Even so, after their more recent moments of “hanging out”, Hashtag had begun to cease her guarded posture that she had carried so often before. Only seldomly would he glimpse her shielding her chestplate protectively in that strange way Twitch or the human brats occasionally did as well. But it had become easier to get her back in a better mood as she seemed more comfortable with his presence. Something about that fact made a long smothered flame flicker within Starscream’s tired spark. 

He enjoyed seeing her happy, making her laugh, even at his own expense. Surely this foolish behavior was only to lull those fools into thinking him passive enough to grant him more freedom. He didn’t…he couldn’t care. It was far too risky to allow such a thing. Regardless, he still felt as if he owed Hashtag something, and wanted to be in her good graces. So many of the others here just fawned over Megatron. Was it too much to hope for his own fan for once? A feisty little student who would admire and stand by his side! He certainly didn’t need such a thing, but it would be…useful. Yes, that was the extent of it…

Hashtag was always quite the helpful young femme, even when some of her ill Earth gotten mannerisms or quips could be confusing. At least with that “Chess” game, it was just similar enough to Fullstasis that for a moment he felt even minutely connected to Cybertron again from all these lightyears away. Perhaps he could attempt to use that Chess to recreate Fullstasis so that he could share the superior game with her! Starscream could simply rotate the square-ish board on its side to be the correct diamond orientation, and modify the Chess pieces to reflect their counterparts. A “bishop” was nearly identical to a quarg in how it moved. Similarly with a vig to a “rook”. Although she might be disappointed that the King’s counterpart had far more offensive capabilities, while the Queen’s was defensive. Sure, one could skew their strategy either way, but that was typically the more popular approach. Even if Skyfire had often only buried his Pvaq in the corner while using the Staiv as a living shield leading the wall of mykns; which he’d always defend stubbornly when Starscream had teased him for it. Those matches had always carried on for groons of a painfully slow back and forth with both of them insisting the other conceded. That ridiculous shuttle had been more content with a stalemate than subjecting himself to yet another loss at Starscream’s blatantly superior tactical prowess. Perhaps Starscream should have relented more victories to him as he’d done Hashtag…

That doesn’t matter now.

Now, he had been given the task of collecting those fruits spawned from the stalky perennials plainly labeled “Apple Trees”, stationed around the perimeter of the cow containment field. Initially, he had assumed the pristine condition of those apples he gathered was irrelevant as long as they weren’t a crushed mess upon the ground. Yet apparently, as he was later corrected, it was important to examine them with more scrutiny to determine whether there were any pests infecting them, or blemishes that would need to be severed at a later date. The defective fruit was set to go to their lower class animals, while they kept the better portion for themselves. That ungrateful cow shouldn’t have made such a fuss when he’d attempted to liberate it. Then maybe that blasted bug wouldn’t have noticed, and it could have foraged its own, high quality fuel, instead of settling for scraps. 

Regardless, the squishy, oddly shaped fruits were strange to imagine as a means of fueling the humans’ fleshy frames. Skyfire never liked the idea of dissection, with how squeamish the soft-sparked mech was, although Starscream couldn’t help but be a byte curious of their internal functions. Yet the memory of those G.H.O.S.T parasites, and their similar interest towards Cybertronians, made that train of interest falter. At least, until a violet spark flickered with the revelation at what glorious revenge it would be if he could get his servos on one of those wretched humans to take them apart as well. 

Starscream chuckled darkly at the thought, with a fleeting image of those disgusting human organs arranged across a steel table.

Then, Hashtag’s voice cut through his ruminations. “Whatcha thinkin’ about there Spaceman?”

Starscream’s optical ridge furrowed as a look of disgust came to his faceplace that he couldn’t shield from entering his vocalizer. “What did you just call me?”

“What, Spaceman? It’s perfect right?” She strained to reach one of the apples on a hidden branch and flipped it into a crate. “I’ve been tryna think about more nicknames for you than just Screamer. Starship’s a fun one, but not goofy enough. I mean, sure I could also just go with Star as a different shortened version like how my siblings call me Tag, buuuut Spaceman is just funnier. You should've seen the look on your face!”

Starscream rolled his optics and scoffed with a grin. “If we are tossing around such absurdities, perhaps I should title you Hashslag.”

“Yoooo that sounds like a fire wrestler name!!”

“No it–”

Hashtag began making ridiculous poses as if flexing her physical prowess. “Hashslag comes into the ring and DEMOLISHES the competition! The undisputed champion that’ll uh–” She paused a moment to search their internet for assistance in her speech– “throw melted slag chairs at her enemies!!”

“You are quite proficient at twisting things to your advantage, aren’t you?” Even if Starscream had meant it as a minor jab in retaliation to her stupid Spaceman mockery–she had immediately translated it towards describing what she’d inflict upon her enemies, as opposed to a reflection of her capabilities. Decepticon material indeed. 

Hashtag’s grin widened, “Of course! ‘Cause I’m awesome! And that could be a great stage name! Maybe I’ll even use it as my gamer tag actually–”

Now that was too much. If she confidently proclaimed such a stupid title to the world, she’d be far too susceptible to the petty scorn of her opponents. 

“You are NOT identifying yourself as Hashslag.” Starscream ordered with crossed arms and a stern glare. “Your designation in such an environment should command respect, and THAT would be just as easily skewed against your character.”

“How?”

He put a servo to his faceplate in exasperation for her naivety. “Slag refers to the waste matter produced when refining or smelting ore. I am sure you found the definition with your abilities, but it is a commonly derogatory term when directed towards someone. In many ways. If you are a slagger, then you are an extremely low member of society and considered inept. If you call someone a lump of slag, it is comparing them to something useless. Sure, it can be used threateningly when proclaiming you will annihilate them so completely that only slag will remain; but pairing it with a portion of your designation will only allow those around you an easy pathway towards mockery. You cannot believe I was serious about such a title as that. It was clearly a joke. No one would take you seriously with that name.”

Hashtag put her servos up and allowed them to then fall heavily in frustration. “Okay okay! I get it. You were trying to be mean and whatever–”

“Wait- no, I wasn't– ugh scrap…”

Suddenly her expression turned to a mischievous smirk as she turned back to gathering more apples with a laugh. “Nah I know you were just being a goofball. But I gotta admit I’m a bit jealous. How come Spitfire gets such a cute nickname and I don’t? I might even be a bit offended!” She paired her last statement with an overly dramatic tone and servo to her chestplate that could have been mimicking his own manner of mock hurt.

“What, Sprite? That is only a title referencing her small stature paired with her typically sassy nature.”

“Aww, not that she’s sweet like the popular soda brand?” She snickered, “I guess that tracks. She’s actually way rude.” 

Starscream scoffed as he attempted to focus on the ridiculous apple gathering task again, “Yes, that would hardly be fitting. What even is this “soda brand” you speak of?”

Hashtag whipped out her datapad and trotted up to him with a sparkle in her optics, apparently finding amusement in the topic. “It’s this carbonated sugar water with mysterious “natural flavors” and citric acid made by the big wig Coca Cola company!” She pulled up a string of images displaying an array of bottles and cans detailing a green logo with the Sprite title. Then changed her keywords in the search bar to procure images placing the strange beverage alongside other odd products. “It’s sold everywhere! Like in stores, which we aren’t allowed in–or fast food!! We can go through drive-thrus with Mo and Robby on the way back from school sometimes to get stuff! Wacky D’s is their favorite.” 

Starscream leaned closer while squinting his optics in an attempt to acquire a better view of the ridiculous stream of advertisements for disgusting human fuelling varieties. He took the datapad from her to scroll through the panels of information himself, which she again seemed to find humorous for whatever reason as he hummed in thought. After a couple kliks of analysis, he came upon an image displaying a “breakfast deal duo” which showed that Sprite thing, as well as its orange and red mirrored counterpart titled “Fanta” that made him think of Twitch. But even more hilariously, was the particular item between them that was referred to as a “Hashbrown”. It was indeed brown, and frankly looked horrid. He had no idea why anyone would put it in their intake–but the fact that it shared the same prefix as Hashtag was too perfect to pass up. If she wanted a nickname tied to Sprite’s, she could get one comically linked to her foolish misinterpretation. 

He passed the datapad back into her servos and pointed at the items with a smirk. “If THAT atrocity is Sprite, then I suppose you would be this hashbrown slag.” Starscream’s wings fluttered in amusement at the absurdity as he turned to move aside one full crate of apples for an empty one to take its place. 

Hashtag paused a moment before looking his way with squinted optics of her own skeptically. “While Hashbrown sounds adorable–why do I get the feeling that it isn’t actually that wholesome coming from you?”

Starscream chuckled at the sight of her silly little scrunched faceplate. “Perhaps not. It isn’t nearly as reprehensible as Hashslag, yet I fail to see why humans would even want to purchase those disgusting products. Therefore I'd certainly say Hashbrown is ridiculous enough that it just might stick if you insist upon calling me Spaceman.”

Hashtag tossed an already bruised apple at him, which he easily blocked with a raise of his arm, as she too began to crack up about the prospect. “Oh yeah! What about I call you Starry instead? Or would that be too cutesy for Mr. Tough Bot?”

“Ugh, pass.” Starscream waved a servo as if dusting the horrid alternative from an imaginary shelf. “In all practicality, if you truly must decide upon some means of a secondary designation for me, then I may allow you to simply call me Star. That is “what my friends call me”, you could say.” More accurately, what Skyfire had called him. “It is more customary to select a shortened version of your companions true designation. Like how you are more commonly called Tag by your siblings. As you had previously stated yourself. Or referring to Bumblebee as Bee, and Elita-1 as simply Elita.”

Hashtag tilted her helm slightly in thought as she struggled to decide which crate the apple she picked belonged in. “Hmm… alright fine. I guess that works.”

Scrap. Now she seemed bored, or even a bit disappointed. 

“Although…” Starscream drawled as he tried to think of what in particular she could be looking for, since this apparently held more meaning to her than he’d initially thought. “If I were to bestow you with a more…creative, alternative to your designation–I suppose I could call you Amethyst. Most obviously because of your violet paint resembling the quartz’s hue, but also because it can be a symbol of beauty in impurities. Because of course, the fact that it gets its color from the presence of iron ions within its structure, that would then oxidize when exposed to radiation. Thus it is a rather inspirational gem, and could be worn to ward off negative energy. Such a thing that was far more popular in Caminus, but still quite interesting from a scientific perspective when studying the geology of varying celestial constructs regardless.”

Hashtag grinned as her spunk returned, “Man, I never would have expected you’d be a rock nerd–Wait! Let me figure out what gem you’d be!” Her optics went white as streams of color coded data flowed across them, until an image appeared on her visor that she then transferred to her datapad. “Found one! Some Pietersite can be red and blue like you! This one looks really cool with a gold streak too–And! Apparently it's considered a tempest stone, and a protective talisman that’d cleanse negative energies and emotional turmoil! Actually, maybe you could use some of that, huh?” She smirked and nudged him playfully with her elbow before continuing to poke his shoulder plating with her digits. “Right? You totally need some gem action to get those warm and fuzzies past your bad boy exterior. And you could call yourself the Tempest Protector! That would SO be your awesome wizard name if you played D&D with us.”

“Hm.” Starscream lightly waved her insistent digits off of him before tipping a servo in consideration of the prospect. “I suppose Pietersite could be marginally appropriate. Although I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Carnelian–but what is this “D&D” you speak of?” 

“Ooooooooh I’m SO glad you asked!” She was suddenly practically vibrating at the anticipation as she searched something else on her datapad, and motioned for him to take a seat under the trees with her. “I have to show you all my favorite youtube channels and podcasts and–Oh my gosh there’s just so many awesome things about it! I am of course the designated DM when we play, since I’m a master of storytelling! But I’m getting ahead of myself–first, I can introduce you to the classes by bingeing A Crap Guide to D&D! Because it’s hilarious and carries ALL the vibes. THEN I can show you SoOkayHerestheThing shorts, and Legends of Avantris, and Tales from the Stinky Dragon, and The Chaos Protocol, and–”

She went on and on for so long that Starscream almost began to regret asking. Almost. As even through the copious amounts of scrap being dumped his way, and how easy it could be to tune out, he’d admit it was actually rather interesting. Even the humor was occasionally comprehensible, and he was once again reminded of how similar Hashtag could be to Thundercracker. 

She showed him countless videos about the extensive background and absurdities rampant in this “Dungeons and Dragons”. In a way, it reminded him of when TC would construct an elaborate script and extravagant scenes, only for Starscream and Warp to interject their own additions and deviations. It was ironic thinking of the role a Dungeon Master was supposed to hold as the realm’s god, while the surrounding players could so easily meld, meddle, and masacre their power with complex combinations or inane side quests. Although he supposed if Hashtag was the DM, he would need to dial back such schemes. In fact, if any of the others even dared to derail the objective of her creation he would eldritch blast them into submission! Now if it were Bumblebee…it was far too amusing to tick that bug’s gears to not toy with him a little. Alas, Hashtag said he wasn’t a fan of the game when he’d given it a single shot upon their insistence. Starscream would have to drag that coward into it the next time he could, so he’d at least have one player he could shamelessly terrorize amongst a party of sparklings.

Hashtag’s presentation this time had far exceeded the one about that Hatsune Miku character. Nearing the end, Starscream still felt the urge to acquire one of these rule books himself for all those intricate calculations that she simply couldn’t properly appreciate with how her processor was wired. Not in some attempt to fall into the position of a Dungeon Master himself…as previously stated, it seemed DM’s were far too easily overruled. Although perhaps he could call that a skill issue on the part of others. Starscream could surely do better. He’d rule the world of his magistery with a script so perfect that there simply wouldn’t be any possibility of petty posterings of improvement; or any chance of challenging his direction with whatever absurd bardic tricks notoriously plagued the community!

 Starscream had begun doing a bit of research on his own after Hashtag offered her datapad to him again. While she accessed her own content remotely, and occasionally shared other random recordings she came across. There were far too many depicting Earth dogs. 

Eventually, he noticed she had seemed to be sending messages to her”fam”, as she’d done during their Chess games. Then, Hashtag flicked the silent conversation away to turn to him with a more serious tone about her. That was…unnerving. Surely they wouldn’t try to use her against him somehow. She was obviously just utilizing some sort of dramatic build up for something inconsequential. It was fine. What could she possibly be gearing to ask him that could really require this much apprehension? 

“Soo…” Hashtag lingered on the word as Starscream kept his optics trained on the datapad. “Since we’re uh, y’know, chill, and stuff right now. YOU seem pretty chill, right? Yeah–So I uh, I’ve been wanting to ask about…some stuff. Like maybe your reasons for the insane junk you did for and with the corrupted Emberstone, oooorr…what exactly is up with the chaos glitches you’ve had since. I feel like those are some pretty big things we should talk about. Especially when one of those problems is very much ongoing haha…” She chuckled nervously as she fiddled with her servos.

Ah. This again. Questions around his interaction with the fragmented stone had of course come up with Megatron and Bumblebee, but this seemed a byte different. Starscream wasn’t entirely certain in what way. Maybe it was only because of who it was this time. When the topic had come up with Hashtag previously, it was less about questions and more about venting her frustration. So what sort of explanation would she be looking for? He could go into great detail of his brilliant scheme for New Cybertron and its tragic outcome–but he wasn’t about to roll that dice on how well that would be received after last time. Then she also wanted information regarding his…glitches. That was certainly far too complicated. Especially when he wasn’t even truly sure of the details himself.

Starscream tapped his digit against the datapad a moment before lowering it to glance Hashtag’s direction with a practiced grin and straightening of his wings. “Now why should that be important? We were having a bit of fun, weren’t we? Why spoil that with a topic that is obviously causing you distress by even proposing it?” He offered her datapad back into her restless servos. “Dwelling on such things is silly, don’t you think?”

Hashtag hesitantly took back the tablet, and he hated that her bubbly demeanor was being tainted by her ridiculous insistence on committing to this course of conversation. “No. Star. It’s not.” She said firmly with a stubborn fire in her optics where, for a moment, he saw Skyfire in her place. Even the poorly concealed hurt in her vocalizer that could have only been placed there in an effort to manipulate him into cracking some sort of confession. “I just need some part of this to make sense. In stories, whether professional or a passion project with friends, things always have some sort of reason for why they happen. Even if it seems silly, or excessive, there’s always an explanation, and they’re supposed to end with a satisfying conclusion. But it’s not like YOU have a character sheet for me to reference when you do weird scrap! So I-I guess– I dunno I just wanna know what’s really going on here. That I AM making the right choice by giving you a chance. ‘Cause I still feel like we have a bit of that stuff around…lack of control…in common. But I don’t want to have to keep feeling bad about liking hanging out with you.”

“Well of course you like hanging out with me,” Starscream boasted with a servo to his chassis, “I’m an absolute delight to be around!”

She laughed, but it was dim, and her posture was again far too guarded. “Stop trying to dodge the question, Spaceman.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hashbrown.” He smirked at her with a spun lilt to the ridiculous name that he hoped would bring that light back into her optics. 

Yet she only rolled them with a grin, “Pff. Sure. C’mon. I’m not dumb–”

“I never said you were.” He hurriedly assured her. “Far from it! You are the brightest amongst your siblings in fact! Did I mention that you’re my favorite–”

“Stop-stop–” Hashtag interjected while standing and waving her servos. “Please just at least tell me about what the Corrupted Emberstone did to you. We have to trust each other. Whatever is going on seems really dangerous, and we can’t just act like it’s fine, or like, normal crazy. Y’know? It almost made you shoot my head off, Star. I know that couldn’t have been you! I have to know that wasn’t you…”

“It wasn’t! It–” 

Crimson crashed his optics as static blazed across his processor. And he couldn’t remember. What was the name of that blasted creature he’d been aiming for?

Then, Starscream’s wings twitched stiffly in tandem with the smooth strings of lightning he could faintly feel flitting across them. A servo that he’d apparently lifted to his burning optic, slipped from his faceplate as he slowly stood and placed it behind him instead. Then, words were pulled from his voice box before he could even think to ask Hashtag to reiterate her question. 

“It was just as you said, little Terran. A glitch. That inverted Emberstone left a sort of echo that was only further ingrained while I was stuck inside that Titan. The chaotic force it possessed was simply not compatible with my systems, even if it sustained me through the lack of Energon available in isolation. Just like how Energon itself interacts with a human. Sure, it can give incredible surges of energy and empower certain…upgrades, but it is also quite damaging in the long term. It’s an inconvenience, but nothing particularly serious, I assure you.”

Something about that wasn’t right.

There was a pause for far too long as he felt sick. 

Starscream could barely hear Hashtag’s response over the static.

“...I’m not sure I believe you. Your optics aren’t...Are you having one of the glitch episodes right now?”

“Only a minor one. And you can have full confidence that I spoke nothing but the truth. I would never lie to my favorite Terran.” Starscream’s vocalizer danced across the final statement in a way that felt as if he were mocking himself, while placing a servo to her shoulder. It was laughable he could have any amount of fondness for her.

Lightning shot to the servo connecting with her frame as his digits clenched against her plating, and she pushed away. “You’re being REALLY creepy right now!”

Everything went black. If only for a nano-klick, that felt like groons. Weightless, with that familiar pressure. But he couldn’t think straight.

Suddenly he was torn from wherever he’d been, and thrown back into place. Just before the correct optics came online in his helm, he heard a collection of rattling voices all at once. Although they were more of a feeling than words.

Don’t mess this up.

Starscream stumbled and attempted to use the tree in place of his faulty stabilizers, but it cracked, and fell with him. His optics recalibrated rapidly to the light. While he blanked lied on the grass. Trying to remember where he was. 

“Euuuhgh…” He squinted to crispin the violet silhouette hovering over him. Then slowly sat up and tried to give her a grin, and chuckled in a way that probably wasn’t all that reassuring. “Sorry about the…tree there, Amethyst. I…slipped. Remind me…what were we talking about?”

Hashtag’s faceplate scrunched as she hesitated, then swiftly stomped over to inspect his optics. Odd. Then she sighed heavily as she slumped to the ground beside him. “Now I’m MORE confused.”

“About…?”

She dug her helm into her knees and groaned, “What about our conversation do you remember?”

That was a strange question. 

“We discussed alternative designations, and quite a lot about that D&D that we definitely decided we were going to play instead of that other ridiculous excuse for a “game night”. Then you decided to ruin our fun by bringing up Emberstone drama. Right? And something about the fun repercussions I’ve been experiencing, that somehow gifted you with guilt on the matter, I suppose. Which is ridiculous by the way.” His files started to get corrupted again after she’d mentioned his near miss while trying to blast that abomination’s smug faceplate. Hashtag still had a cringed expression. Had he gotten it wrong? His memory couldn’t be the problem here, so what was? The aching in his helm didn’t help with any of this.

“Yeah…and you were uh…telling me what sorta stuff goes on during your glitches. Like…do you see anything when your eyes go all red?”

He couldn’t admit to that. They already kept thinking he was insane. Besides, he knew those things weren’t real, so it didn’t matter. 

“No! No…Wait, do you mean as in hallucinations or just visual distortion?”

“Both…?”

“Well I can see just fine.” Starscream stood and attempted to salvage what apples he could from the downed tree to perhaps draw her attention to the more present predicament. “It’s nothing I can’t handle! You didn’t actually get hurt regarding that fleeting instance the other night, right? These glitches, as you call them, pass quickly enough.”

“But it’s–Oh my gosh…” Hashtag ran her servo down her faceplate. “I guess if you really want to insist on it not being a big deal, I’ll drop it, FOR NOW.” She pointed a digit at him after having stood up to pace. “You NEED to get better at telling us stuff though! It doesn’t help anyone hiding things, even if it’s hard to talk about. Plus I…it’s not just about you, Star. I hate having to be on edge around you all the time. I want to be able to really trust you after everything. But when you do creepy stuff like whatever THAT was that you APPARENTLY just forgot in 60 seconds, or don’t want to tell me what’s going on, or don’t give me any amount of context for why you’re being weird–I’m left to think the worst of it! This isn’t easy for me…and I’m tired of any time we ARE having fun together being tainted by everything else. I know that you can be a softy and a great teacher. But I also know that you’re still a scheming Decepticon, that I can never tell if whatever plot you have is for a good, or bad surprise. I thought I understood what was going on in your head before, but after what all went down with the corrupted Emberstone…I don’t know how much I can trust myself on that anymore. So all I’m asking from you, is a bit of proof that you aren’t trying to hide something to hurt my family that you’d just claim is fine because the laser gun wasn’t actually aimed directly at me.”

Starscream allowed the last apple to fall into the crate before he rested his servo on its edge. That was…a lot, and he was certainly not an expert at navigating all these intricate emotions these kids seemed to learn from the Autobots. He was supposed to find some way to relate to her struggle to receive it in the correct way, according to Bumblebee. The only primary connection he could make was her concern regarding stressing over the worst outcome. But then what could he say to mitigate the situation? Only stating that he wasn’t planning anything against them, would likely be unbelievable and unsatisfactory. He’d had plenty of ruminations against her annoying collective countless times after all; although in significantly less quantity or severity in recent times. Then, he wasn’t certain he trusted himself on such things either. So if HE wasn’t confident in his own intentions, how was he supposed to convince her?! This was impossible…

Then again, one thing he could assure her of was in fact regarding the glitches. He wasn’t hiding the intricacies of its effects for some sort of sinister purpose. It was far more out of concern that they’d perceive him in an even lower sight at the information. He didn’t want to take that risk…especially with Hashtag. Yet it seemed he was doomed either way. 

Starscream in-vented heavily as his wings fell to spite him through the anxious knot in his tank. “Alright, I get that I’m not exactly the most trustworthy mech around, but I…I’ve actually started to appreciate this opportunity. A little bit. It can still be extremely aggravating and I will admit I’ve fantasized about blowing up the place on multiple occasions–But! I wouldn’t actually do that! Anymore…” He chuckled and attempted to get himself back on track before it derailed any further. “Regardless, I promise that I’m not hiding anything of that nature. I’ve only ever used the apparent offensive capabilities of the curse for…retaliatory means.”

Hashtag crossed her arms. “Like against something you totally weren’t hallucinating the other day?”

“Yeeesss…about that…” Starscream tapped his digits together as he struggled to find the correct phrasing. “I keep having odd visions of…” Why couldn’t he get his vocalizer to work out Meridian’s blasted designation? “That human from before who stole the Emberstone for his mass murder machine. He is an extremely annoying little pest, as I am sure you can imagine. Paired with the curse’s occasional enhancement of my more violent impulses, is not exactly favorable. And as you’ve already figured out, I had been attempting to fire upon that stupid spector my processor has been projecting in an increased intensity since my exit from the Titan–or–Terratronus’ helm. I’ve gotten better at ignoring him, but sometimes it’s…difficult.” 

“So you DO see things? Is…” Hashtag paused for a moment as if scrapping a lingering thought. “Are you talking about Mandroid?”

A short spazz of the lightning shot through Starscream’s frame, but he ignored it and snapped his digits together before pointing one in her direction. “Yes! The most infuriating aspect of him constantly plaguing me is the fact that I can’t incinerate him on sight. Then I will also admit that the lapses in memory aren't new. This blasted curse has left many of my files corrupted somehow. Even so, it is not as if these things have left me dysfunctional. I can still operate just fine. Besides, any attempt I’ve made to explain it has…” Another flit of electricity flocked to his frustration at the ordeal. “Would I really be that much of a coward if I said that I just didn’t want to deal with it?! You all already think me some sort of lunatic! Forgive me if I assumed an admission of my apparent insanity wouldn’t be beneficial to my chances of proving otherwise!” 

Hashtag’s optics were wide, but her posture was looser. “Yeah…I guess that makes sense…” Then she approached him to put a servo to his arm for some reason as she looked at his own servo, which she’d slowly pulled down from its aerial position. “Thank you for telling me, and I don’t blame you for wanting to ignore that stuff. I know how horrible it is to have Mandroid in your head.” She looked up into his optics in a way that once again made him see Skyfire for a fraction of a nano-klick. “And this sounds way too much like when the creep was all up in my circuits with his dumb device before, but with like, a different level of jank. You have to ask Wheeljack, or Optimus, or–I dunno! Just-this seems more serious than just normal hallucinations if your files are getting corrupted. Plus what happened earlier was…We really need to figure out what’s going on with this. I don’t want it to make you do something worse…”

He hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t as if it could control him to that extent. Could it? Well it wasn’t as if he could remember the data needed to answer that question.

A small scoff escaped Starscream’s intake as he drifted away from Hashtag’s grip, which she held as long as he could, like his frame would destabilize as soon as she let go. “I doubt they could be of any help on the matter. Wheeljack has already done plenty rooting around in my circuits, and has already stated his inexperience with processor damage. That Prime can only claim to be an expert on his Matrix of Leadership slag. What befell the Emberstone was an unprecedented catastrophe that would require far more research to decode the extent of its warped nature. And I am not particularly keen on being a test subject for such things…”

Hashtag wrapped her arms around her chassis again, which made his spark ache in that odd way it seldom did. “Could you at least give it a shot…? I am still going to let the others know what you told me, and it’d be better to try something than nothing. I can come with you, if you’re scared of medical exam stuff or something.”

“Please. Me, afraid of something as silly as that?” Starscream laughed and attempted to brighten the mood as he stacked her crates along with his for easier transportation. “Don’t be ridiculous. If it will ease your silly concerns, I’ll do it. Even if the idea of being crammed into that blasted trailer again for the trip is sure to remind me how much I miss my missiles again.”

Hashtag’s smile returned as she relaxed a little, and followed him to pick up a pair of crates to bring to the barn. “Pff, alright, I’ll talk to Bee about it. I’m sure it won’t be that bad. And you never know, maybe since we’ll actually have a bit of an idea of what we’re checking for, we could get at least a little bit of a better idea of how to go about dealing with it.”

“Don’t get your hopes up there, Amethyst.”

“Oh I’ll send you all the good vibes I want, Pietersite. I’m that inspiration gem after all!”

“Hah, I suppose you’re right.”

They soon moved on from the topic as they met up with the rest of the Maltos, who’d completed their own little portion of the chores. Although he later noticed Tag pulled Bumblebee aside to discuss it, he could worry about what that whole ordeal would entail when it came to it. As long as he didn’t have to run into Megatron for such a thing, he didn’t care. To make sure of that, he made certain to inform Dorothy of the situation as well. Since the human had wanted to extend her mediator standing after all. 

These odd occurrences surrounding Quintus’ curse could be sorted out in no time! It wasn’t as if the Emberstone even existed anymore, anyway, and what remained of its original power was now within those cyber sleeves held by Tag’s human siblings. Such an effect as he’s found himself with, was likely only some form of ailment caused by his exposure to the rampant power lingering inside the Titan for all that time. It’d surely lull into obscurity with time.

Although perhaps, now he too was getting too hopeful.

[sweetfirebird]

So, ICE just arrested the mayor of Newark, NJ for investigating the illegal ICE detention center in the city. Having the detention center there is against New Jersey law.

Right-leaning media is going to say he was trespassing and, if he was--though it does not sound like he was, then regular police could have arrested him.

THIS is a show. This is Homan, who heads ICE, trying to rattle and intimidate the public officials who have said their cities and states will not cooperate with illegal ICE activities. Because they are... illegal.

Various government officials and groups are speaking out against the arrest right now. There are also protests. And I suspect, based on past actions at least, eventually the govt will release the mayor after a lot of blustering and terribly handled legal attempts to hold him.

This goes along with Stephen Miller today talking about trying to suspend habeas corpus. That requires a war or an extreme situation, btw. The regime keeps claiming there is an invasion and a war and not proving it in court (also after a certain amount of time, Congress has to declare war for this to be valid). But they are claiming there is a threat to the Constitution--suddenly the Constitution matters to these people. Schroedinger's Constitution, I guess.

This is also meant to rattle and intimidate people. Stephen Miller is not an attorney. He's not a scholar of the Constitution. And this wasn't Trump saying it and it wasn't in the Oval Office. Miller was probably putting it out there to see how people would respond. If America would sit back and take it.

So far, the people in New Jersey have been showing up.

But again, I just want to remind people that yes, these people are dangerous. They are dangerous because they don't care about hurting others but also because most of them are incredibly bad at their jobs and make mistakes constantly.

But they are also doing this stuff *because* there is resistance, because more and more Americans are not happy. And by that I mean, even MAGA are peeling off from the cult, and you can tell this from the polls, and from the fact that even some mainstream media is starting to push back (ever so slightly) on the narrative, and because some Republicans in congress are quietly objecting to some of 47's ideas, and because the use of bots is increasing online which means you aren't arguing with MAGA because a lot of MAGA have left the chat.

(People love to toss around the "drinking the Kool Aid" stuff about cults and MAGA, but as a quick reminder, many in Jonestown had seen through Jones' facade and were terrified and wanted to leave but simply had no way to do so. Many cult members do in fact reach a point where they have questions and realize something is wrong.)

As Rachel Maddow said a while ago, the more the regime loses in court, the more cities and governors tell them no, the more protests there are, the more the boycotts work, the more Trump has to back down on his tariffs and make nice with the countries he insulted, the weirder and wilder they are going to get with their cruelty.

But they do mean the cruelty. These people would happily send immigrants to Libya on the *suspicion* that they have committed a misdemeanor. Don't underestimate them. Prepare yourselves.

But also they (Trump especially) are desperate to get massive public opinion on their side again. They need a win. And to a fascist, winning means shows of strength, whether or not the shows of strength work or are even popular.

They also want distractions from the fact that Trump has started to deflate and back down and lower the tariffs against China today. Because that's embarrassing for him and they don't want the news cycle to be about how he's lowered it now to 80% instead of 145%. (80% still isn't low enough, btw. But the public step back is what matters.)

Also they want a distraction from the empty ports, and the truckers losing jobs, and Newark Airport (and all of America's airports) being incredibly unsafe, and from the new Pope not liking them, and from Bill Gates saying Musk is killing children, and so on.

Also remember a lot of these unqualified people are already showing signs of cracking. These are high pressure jobs even for the qualified, and well, these people are not qualified. Many of these things they do seem to initially be mistakes by underlings that they then double down on because, again, fascism is about moving forward and showing strength and not backing down even when it makes political sense.

BUT, this fascist regime is Trump-helmed. And he can and will throw his people under the bus if he wants public opinion on his side (or wants to avoid jail). He has already blamed "his lawyers" for the court losses and is now saying the tariff situation is all "Scotty B" (Scott Bessant). He reportedly is already pissed off at Hegseth for embarrassing him and I doubt he feels great about Kristi Noem getting reamed by Congress. He also hates that MSNBC has been reporting on the airport failures all day and has been ranting about them about on Truth Social. Oh and the Republicans in congress can't agree on the bill Trump wants, so it might not go forward. See?

The situation is fragile and scary.

BUT this is (probably) why it's happening. And to be clear, America has done this sort of shit in its history before. Maybe not on quite this level, but we have. Pushing back against it is also something that we've done before.

(And before anyone can @ me about it. Jim Crow legislation was authoritarian violence leveled against American citizens. How America treated Mexican workers in the 20s and 30s helped give Hitler ideas. There are plenty of persons on US soil who have been kidnapped and disappeared by local governments or the federal government in our history. That is why they don't want us knowing our history--both to hide our sins and to hide how America, eventually, responded to those sins.)

The most dangerous time with an abuser is when the abuser thinks you might leave them. So yes, this is terrifying. But also, so is staying with them.

p.s. today's date is 5/9/25. You all need to enable the post date on posts you see so you stop reblogging old news.

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic yandere Obito with darling who is a member of the Akatsuki concept

I loved researching his character! Hope you enjoy :)

Yandere Obito with Akatsuki! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Violence, Blood, Murder, Delusional behavior, Denial, Stalking, Kidnapping, Forced relationship.

Obito is... strange to you.

Well, you never really knew him as Obito.

You first knew him as Tobi, a quirky fellow who adored annoying the team.

Along with... cling around you?

Tobi was a strange persona of is.

Then you knew him as Madara, an Uchiha meant to aid the Akatsuki.

Point is, you never really meet Obito as himself.

You meet his personas that he crafted to continue his plans.

Obito, however, knew pretty much everything about you in Akatsuki.

He took on the role of the true leader in the Akatsuki as you were all sent to hunt Tailed Beasts for a plan to change the world.

You genuinely wished to change the world when you joined Akatsuki.

So... safe to say your goals mostly matched up.

Obito doesn't usually like to think of romantic feelings.

That's understandable considering what happened in his past...

What happened to Rin....

Since that day he's tried to ignore romantic feelings.

Yet when he integrates himself into the Akatsuki and meets you...

It brings up emotions he wished he could suffocate.

Your personality reminds you of Rin at times and it makes him recoil.

Obito, even in his manipulated mind, has always wanted to make the world a safer place.

He's terrified of losing any more people like Rin.

So when he sees you, someone who reminds him of his past love...

He gets obsessive.

Even as Tobi he tries to deny it, but he can't help but feel protective.

As Tobi he often tried to hang around you when he wasn't pestering Deidara.

He always acts excited, asking how you're doing and how you feel about your fellow Akatsuki members.

It hurts him a bit when you call him annoying but that just means he's good at acting... hopefully....

When he has to play the role of Madara, he's much more authoritative.

If anything this benefits him as he can order you to stay on less dangerous jobs.

Obito often tries to ignore his romantic feelings, despite them showing in his protective behavior.

With his abilities it's easy for him to keep track of you.

Despite that he never sends you on Tailed Beast missions, just missions that require spying or planning.

Even then he never sends you alone.

While he doesn't like to admit it, Obito slowly tries to keep you by his side.

Part of him, the one that yearns to be appreciated and loved, wants to give in to his feelings.

You may not know him for who he truly is... but maybe later he can show you.

Just you.

You essentially become his replacement Rin... Which sounds horrible.

At the very least he feels it's fate he met you.

Rin must've led you two together to make him happy....

He really doesn't deserve you.

He knows he doesn't.

Yet he finds himself pursuing you anyways.

Obito is primarily protective of you.

He's using pretty much all of the Akatsuki to his advantage except you.

He doesn't trust any of them with you.

He doesn't think they'll keep you safe like he plans to.

Subconsciously Obito finds himself rushing his plan for your sake.

He's so focused on making you safe that he subconsciously uses you as motivation.

Obito would probably never admit his feelings for you.

But his actions say a lot more than he'd like.

After all, the only person he trusts around you is himself.

You're often stuck with him.

He chats with you so casually when you're alone, like he's more interested in you than the rest of the Akatsuki.

Granted, he needs Nagato's eye, but emotionally he's more invested in you.

He could sacrifice the rest of the Akatsuki for his goal.

But you? Never.

He refuses to lose anyone like you again.

Obito killing for your affection is given.

He's a strong character from a strong clan.

If someone was getting in his way, he's getting rid of them.

He doesn't care how much blood stains his robes or his mask.

You'll understand what he's doing is necessary, right?

You want a better world just like him, don't you?

Then him getting rid of a few nuisances or traitors shouldn't bother you.

Just listen to him...

He'll protect you since he couldn't be there for Rin.

Honestly, if something happened to you...

Obito would probably snap.

Something tells me an Uchiha snapping wouldn't end well.

Like... mass murder won't end well.

It's not too hard to tell you mean a lot to Obito even with the mask on.

His behavior with the personas he uses says a lot.

Obito would do anything to prevent losing the ones he loves.

He's already done murder quite a few times, isolating you isn't the worst thing he's done.

Hell, kidnapping you in a secret base isn't the worst of it either.

After all, He just wants you safe, right?

He claims you're weak, compared to the rest of your comrades you could easily get yourself killed.

What he's doing is protecting you... preparing you for a new world of his design... hopefully.

You don't trust a word he says.

You barely did when he was Tobi.

When he tries to give you affection, you smack him away.

A shame, really....

He was hoping you'd keep your loyalty.

Not that any of it matters now.

You'll learn Obito cares for you eventually... loves you even.

Not Tobi, not Madara...

Once he has you to himself he'll reveal he's Obito.

You deserve to know that now.

He knows you no longer trust him, how could you trust him?

Despite that... He hopes you understand eventually.

Maybe with a little bit of encouragement, you'll let him hold and cuddle you without fighting him.

Once you see what his plans are... you'll excuse the fact he's a monster, right?

Rin wouldn't want this... Part of himself screams that at him.

Yet Obito also knows this world has corrupted him.

To do the right thing... sometimes you need to do bad things...

You understand that, don't you?

After all... The Akatsuki aren't good people....

Obito knows he just needs to wait.

He's been waiting for a while.

Once his plan is complete... You'll see he was just trying to protect you.

Then you'll love him

He just needs to wait and put up with your resistance a little longer...

Then you'll be all his... safe in his arms... just like he would've done with Rin.

[victusinveritas]

I will not, under any circumstances, give money to your gofundme, Kofi [if that's still a thing], paypal [definitely not, fuck off], or other charity case cash transfer site. If you send me a request for such aid, you will be summarily blocked, no questions asked, no matter what sob story you tell me.

See under the cut for the whataboutisms that come to mind (it's nice but also a note on the state of Internet Discourse that whataboutism is accepted as a word by spellcheck).

A very angry, exhausted, and honestly saddened post because I am an elder millennial who is burned out. Skip if you want. But the point is fuck right off with your tales of woe that require a small donation. I'm just kinda ranting on that below. You will be blocked. If you reach out to me in chat for such things, I'll probably send you a rude message or gif back for your shenanigans.

But what about the people in Palestine and all the appeals coming directly from there? I give directly to relief services, like a person with common goddamn sense, verified things that help actual people. So many of the pages on here are scams, the modern Nigerian princes (still out there, still stealing from rubes and the not-so-competent).

But what about me, I'm a [X, Y, and Z things, lost my legs to the same rhinoceros that killed my parents, and blackballed political affiliation besides] (boy was this originally written to piss off Fucking Everyone [I got creatively specific based on some reblogs of campaigns and petitions I've seen] but then I was like wait, wait, I probably shouldn't say that just because I'm pissed off, kill the fascist voice in your own head and all)? You have my sympathy. If I live in your area, reach out, I'll see what I can do to help ya directly, hook you up with legal aid, hell, I'll help you fill out forms for a frickin' passport if you want to get out of the country, I'm not just tossing you a stack of cash because another person on the Internet is going through trouble. I have people in my life, people I love and care about, that need my help, support, and occasionally just straight up remittance--which they get because I trust them. I know they are not trying to bullshit me. I don't know you from Adam, nor, honestly, do I care about people on Tumblr. I've got serious, whole side of a cow beef with the 'struggling x or y minority queer disabled community that just needs help with the rent or the stove or the car or the wolf at the door' on here, because I know people in that community, actually struggling, and they...don't ask for shit. I help them because they're my friends.

But how can you be a Socialist, Mutualist, Antifascist, and Anarchist if you don't help lift everyone up? Quite easily. I work within my community. Again, I help people around me, that I know. Just tossing money at The Glorious Cause for The People or the Liberation of the People's Red Freedom Party of Kalifornia...is just lining someone's pockets, and worse somehow, someone who doesn't give a flying fuck about me no matter how swaying their rhetoric. I practice mutual aid, I work with Anarchist Black Cross, I hire folks I know to do work, overpay them (but that's capitalist/bougie behavior--jump. up. your. own. ass), and usually share a fucking meal, because that's how I was goddamn raised by non-party reds, ya exist in the capitalist system, but you fuckin' help.

But that's transphobic! It isn't. At all. I'm not helping you because I don't give a shit about any part of you. I won't help you regardless of what is or is not under your chosen ass-covering or assless chaps. Ok, if you are a resolute assless chaps wearer AND have the ass to pull it off, I might just help you. I don't want pictures, I just want to know you've got the confidence to rock that look. If you can't convey that in writing, than you probably don't have that kinda swagger.

The only, and I mean fucking only, if you've read everything above, exception is if you are someone I regularly correspond with, and you need help, let me know. But take the time to get to know a guy first, act like you, in fact, care about me, and that if the tables were reversed and I needed help, you'd try to help if I came to you with hat in hand after...at least weeks of friendship.

OK, there is another exception there: If you've got a book that you think I might like, sci fi, history, fiction, basically anything but self-help or your cult's latest tract, let me know and I'll push that shit if I think it's worth it, and if I like it I'll probably buy several copies because supporting writers is the tits. I want to say the same for artists, but my wife says if I buy more art she'll take away my credit card and make me operate on cash only. Which is honestly fair, and she should also do the same thing for books, because hard times are coming and we can't ultimately, eat books, as much as we might like to, as cool as The Book Eaters is (Sunyi Dean, order here or other places, just not from Amazon if you can help it).

I feel like I ended in the middle of a thought, but if you read this far give yourself a gold star. Do not ask me for gold stars, I will not send them.

To end: this is the internet. None of you are real and it is at best silly to think that you are.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

renege caleb x reader

promises are just... always meant to be broken.

pairing: caleb x GN!reader

cw: angsty, short fic, miscommunication, mentions of light injuries

—

The sound of crickets are all that could be heard in the neighborhood as you limped your way home. You don’t usually come home this late at night. It’s just because you fully intended to avoid Caleb at all costs. Every time, after your mission ends, let’s just say, sometimes when luck is on your side you end up unscathed, other times—well, more often than not, you don’t.

Today was just one of those unlucky days. And even more so that it completely went past your head that it was the first day of Caleb’s offset and you were more than certain he was home. It took a lot of effort just to stand and walk still. Looking at yourself in a puddle, you were reminded of the fact that you looked like shit right now. Like a ragdoll that got tossed around. Those wanderers really did you dirty.

You did everything you could do to pass the time and make sure Caleb is asleep and you won’t run into him looking like this. You stayed at the headquarters hours overtime and sat on a convenience store bench to stare at nothing. When you opened the door to the house, being as quiet as possible, you looked around first to see if the coast was clear. You almost heave a sigh of relief seeing that the lights are dim and grandma or Caleb were nowhere to be seen. 

“You were out late, pipsqueak. Finally you remembered you have a home.”

Almost.

Caleb's tall figure emerges from the kitchen door. Your shoulders hunched up upon hearing the seriousness in his voice. Shoot. You cursed yourself in your head. You composed yourself and did your best to stand up straight.

“Why are you still up? Aren't you tired from travelling all the way here from Skyhaven?”

“I just finished washing the dishes. Gran was worried sick about you all night. If i hadn’t put her to sleep she’d be up waiting for you ‘til sunrise.”

Guilt rushed in your veins. He closed the distance between the two of you and you almost flinched when he stood there right in front of you. You averted your eyes and tried your best to act normal. You were thankful at least that the main lights were out and only the dim lit ones were on. You pray he doesn’t see your wounds and bruises all over.

You cleared your throat, not minding your aching limbs. “I just went drinking with friends after work. It’s been a long day and I’m really tired.”

“Really…” He lifts your chin with the side of his finger. “Do you always come home with a busted lip when you drink with your friends? 'Cause if you do, I might have a little chat with them.”

“I… How did you see…?” You cover the corner of your wounded lip with your hand. Does he have night vision?

“20/20 vision is required in the field of aviation.” he motioned you to sit on the sofa. You would’ve protested if your legs didn’t feel like it was about to give out any time.

You sat yourself down on the sofa. You hear Caleb fumble something from the cabinets before he follows and sits beside you. He pried your face towards him while holding your chin and looked closely at the wound at the corner of your lip, his expression hardened as he examined your face.

You tried to read his mind, but the thoughts behind his eyes were far too difficult to decipher. He started cleaning the wound with a gauze pad and putting antiseptic ointment from the first aid kit.

Still avoiding eye contact, your voice shook while trying to find the words to say. When you opened your mouth, that's when everything went off like a word vomit. 

“Caleb, i’m sorry for worrying you. I can take care of myself. I’ve been a really heavy burden to you and I know you’re already tired enough as it is. I really, really don’t want to cause you any more problems.” you uncomfortably shifted, removed his hand on your cheek and turned your head away from him. “Believe me, I tried so hard to get off work without a scratch. But I’m also really not in the mood for nagging right now. You can tell me off as much as you want tomorrow morning, just not ton–” 

You were cut off when your he silently cradled your cheek with a gentle touch and made you look at him. Your mouth gaped when you saw how somber his expression looked, the shine of his eyes reflecting the dim lights that illuminated the living room. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Caleb’s voice cracked.  “You’ve never been a burden, nor will you ever be,” his sapphire eyes looked apologetic as he reassured you.  “I’m sorry about the nagging. I didn’t mean to. I just... hate to see you in this state. I would never want you to feel like you’re always being scrutinized. I know you’re doing your best and you’re exhausted. You shouldn't feel guilty about something you don’t have any control on, and I’m very sorry for making you feel that way.” He brushes his thumb comfortingly on your cheek.

“I…” you paused, not knowing what to say. You held his hand on your cheek. Your lips quivered before you finally went for it and hugged his torso. Your arms wrapped under his arms and around him, the side of your face pressed up against his chest, inhaling his cologne. It felt like a sanctuary to be in his arms.

Caleb looked down at you, immediately reciprocating the affection, wrapping his arms around you too.

“Hmm? What is this?” he caressed your hair.

“I’m just lucky to have you.”

“What, because I’m the only one you can talk to because you have no friends?” he jokes.

You looked up at him. “You’re the only one.”

The way you said those words caught him off guard yet he quickly pulled it together. “Yeah, yeah enough with the flattery,” he dismisses but he doesn’t mean it, wrapping his arms tighter around you and comfortably resting his chin atop your head. “There, there. I’m sorry for making you feel like you’re always walking on eggshells. I know well that you can't control the nature of your work. It was insensitive of me. If there’s someone I want to be, I want to be someone whom you can trust.”

You’d trust him with your life, anytime, anywhere.

You melted in his arms. You felt secured for the first time in forever you didn’t think you’d end up in your childhood friend’s arms tonight. You missed him so much. You wish he would just stay here with you and grandma.

You were completely oblivious to the fact that Caleb was just as head over heels to see you even back at Skyhaven that he stayed awake tonight because he can’t wait to see your face. There's not a single day he didn't yearn for you while he was away. Of course it pained him to see you hurt tonight.

“Promise me you’ll try not to get hurt as often.” Caleb’s large hands rubbed your back.

“Sure, in one condition.” You withdrew from the hug and faced him, feigning a serious face.

He chuckles, “You haven’t changed at all, pipsqueak. What would that be? Don’t worry about the chores and cooking. You can count me on that. Focus on recovering.” He gestured to the bruises on your body.

“No, not that.” You broke your composure for a second before returning to your dead serious face. “Promise me you won’t abandon me, ever. I want to see you everyday when I come home. I’d crumble if you vanished suddenly without a trace. I’ll bite you if you leave me.”

Caleb paused.

He pulls it together before smiling warmly. “...Okay. I promise I’ll never leave you, you can never get rid of me, anyway.”

He ruffled your hair and lifted his pinky to further swear. You stared at his pinky and immediately got the cue. You locked your pinky with his as a pinky promise.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You held onto his word with every fibre of your being.

You shouldn’t have.

***

[felassan]

BioWare Blogpost: Accessibility

"Journal #10 Accessibility Spotlight A look into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Gameplay Accessibility Options --- Hey everyone! Today, we want to share many of the Accessibility features in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Regardless of skill level or ability, we want everyone to be able to enjoy the full experience and story of our game. There are several features and settings to customize the game to meet your individual needs; so let’s dig in!"

"First off, let’s discuss combat and the difficulty settings. During Character Creation, players can select from one of five curated difficulty levels or create a completely customized experience: Storyteller - Here for the story. Keeper - A balanced combat experience that emphasizes party composition and equipment choices over reaction times. Adventurer - A balanced experience that places equal emphasis on combat, party composition, and equipment choices. Underdog - Here to be pushed to the limit, requiring strategic planning and tactical decisions. Nightmare - Overwhelming battles that give no quarter. Requires a mastery of combat, equipment, skills, and game mechanics to survive. - Selecting Nightmare cannot be undone without starting a new playthrough. Unbound - Customize all settings. - Settings impact numerous aspects of gameplay. If this is your first time, consider a curated preset instead. Even after selecting a difficulty, there are more combat options available in the Settings Menu if you wish to make further adjustments. For example, you can adjust elements like parry timing, aim assist strength, or even how aggressive enemies are. See below for a full list of combat settings."

"UI and HUD elements are also customizable. Many elements of the HUD can be conditionally hidden or turned off entirely. For example, you can fully hide elements like Rook’s health, the objective tracker, or the Mini Map. There are also options for the text size in the UI."

"There are some accessibility aids for interface elements. For example, subtitles are fully customizable allowing you to modify things like the size, opacity, speaker names, and color. Other settings add audio aids to visual-only elements like incoming attack indicators. For anyone with vision deficiencies, there are full-screen color filters to improve visibility."

"Beyond the UI and HUD, there are a few more options regarding the game’s visual effects. For anyone who deals with motion sickness, there is a Persistent Dot Option and Motion Blur can be fully turned off. The in-game Camera Shake can also be adjusted from 0-100%. Additionally, there’s an FOV slider in the graphical settings."

"As discussed in the PC Features Blog, all inputs are remappable for gameplay in Dragon Age: The Veilguard on both controller and keyboard for all platforms. Input sensitivity and deadzones are also customizable with sliding scales. There are some UI interactions that require an input to be held for a short period of time, but this can be changed to tap instead. All of these options allow you to play the game in whatever way is most comfortable. These settings and more are available in Dragon Age: The Veilguard! See a full list below to check out all of our Accessibility settings and check out our Accessibility Portal. Interviews and coverage of our Preview Event will be released  on September 19th; so watch out for that. Chat soon!             — The Dragon Age Team"

"Audio - 3D Audio - Accessibility SFX - Glint Ping SFX - Mono Audio - Speaker Type - Volume Sliders Controls - Ability Wheel Controller Activation (Hold or Tap) - Disable UI Hold Inputs - Input Remapping - Invert Axis (X & Y available) - Swap Left & Right Sticks - Stick Deadzones - Trigger Deadzones - Vertical & Horizontal Sensitivity - Vibration Intensity GAMEPLAY Combat - Aim Assist  - Aim Snap  - Combat Timing - Enemy Aggression  - Enemy Damage - Enemy Health  - Enemy Resistances  - Enemy Vulnerability  - Prevent Death Exploration - Frequent Auto-Saving - Library (Codex, Glossary, Missives) - Object Glint Distance - Object Glint Visibility - Objective Marker Visibility - Pause at any time - Waypoint Visibility - World & Local Maps available at all times Visual / UI - Camera Shake - Depth of Field - Full-screen Colorblind Filters - Hide-able HUD Elements (Abilities, Damage Numbers, Hints, Mini Map, Objective Tracker, Player Health, Tutorials) - Low Health Screen Effect - Motion Blur - Persist Dot Option - Ranged & Melee Threat Indicators - Subtitle Advanced Options (Background Opacity, Speaker Names, Speaker Name Color, Subtitle Size) - UI Text Size - Vignette"

[source]

[chihoshisai]

Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time in other chapters), fem reader // wc : 3.084

Part 2

Anxiety, like the crawling of silent bugs, had eaten at your mind all evening, morphing into worry, what ifs and over speculations throughout the darkest hours of the night. As for the reason behind such agitation, it stemmed from the temporality Sabo had shared with you — two to five weeks before all fell apart. Two would prove hard to change the mind of his hard driven person, to convince him would require harsh, grand gestures. Five would be plenty, enough to slowly weave your way into his life and hopefully his heart. As for three, the temporal middle ground would result in a mixture of the two. However all three kept hidden the similarity of no guarantee towards the desired outcome. 

Morning had come, as usual to start the timer of your day -and responsibilities- with no regards for your mood. Yesterday, after your mother had come to fetch you both in the garden, you had bid farewell to Sabo and his family, his demeanor rather cold despite the fidgeting and amiable look you gave. He had only shut down the idea of you accompanying him in his business, but not that of leading a double life. Therefore, there was hope. A hope which you had carried with you all afternoon but, through its polishing had gifted you in return a sleepless night. 

You darkly grumbled at the golden rays seeping through your velvet material curtains, shifting under your silk blankets, internally wishing for time to slow its pace to allow you more chances to forge a path through Sabo's resolution. All you needed were opportunities, excuses to create a shared meeting with him. 

Nevertheless, the voice of your lady’s maid came to stir you away from the abyss of your mind,  prompting you out of bed, with much reluctance from your part, and aiding you into yet another stifling  gown. A half up, half down updo was tied on your head with a ribbon, modest makeup applied to your face and perfumed sprayed around you like one would to a flower. 

With your beautification from night to morning completed, you heaved your first sigh of the day, straightened your back in a resolute manner and left behind all traces of an insecure mind to be replaced with the expected nature of a princess; kind, loveable but also clever and quick-witted. Even after all this had been drilled into your soul, you hated the idea of parting from your room, where you could allow your thoughts and behavior to run free, to instead step into the constant raging fire of the castle.

But time wasn't so kind, with its advance it pushed you over the door frame of your chamber and into the lavish corridors to reach the dining room. Inside, you found your mother, your king of an older brother and your two youngest siblings, a twinning pair of boy and girl whom you envied the abundance of freedom and lack of responsibility rather often. 

You gave your greeting and sat. The mundane act stirred from you a bored expression as you ate, giving comments here and there to contribute to the family chit chat until the words of your brother harnessed your attention.  

“We're to hold a ball at the end of the week,” he announced nonchalantly, taking a pause to sip from his drink while the news flew over the table. At his words your mind had already pinpointed the first guest to invite.

“Cool, what's the occasion this time?” Your youngest sister cooed from your side in excitement.

“In honor of our sister getting engaged,” he gave you a warm smile which you returned rather sheepishly. If your mind wasn't racing with disaster possibilities you would have felt flattered at his gesture. 

“Eh, you're finally getting married and getting out of here aren't ya?” The youngest boy smirked from the other side of the table, enticing you to roll your eyes at him. 

“Yes, I suppose I am,” you sarcastically responded to him, and at his snicker you finally shot him daggers while feeling the spoiled fruit of your anxiety.

“We'll announce her engagement to Sabo during the event. Invitations are to be sent tomorrow,” your older brother poke, bringing back the conversation on track.

At this, your mind jumped at the opportunity that presented itself on a silver platter. “May I deliver the invitation to my betrothed and his family?” You asked, hoping no one would find an inconvenience in you going.

Thankfully, your mother seemed of an equal mind at the idea. “Why not? It will be the perfect chance to give them a visit. We shall choose a gift for them today and you are to head there tomorrow.”

Oh how you wanted to jump at her neck and thank her for being so supportive. Instead you beamed, showcasing her a full teeth smile, thickening the conversation with ideas of gifts and invitations design.

---------

The following day arrived, sharp on time and quickly dwindling away into early afternoon. With a mixture of jubilation and anguish at facing Sabo for the first time in two days, you boarded a carriage. Alone in your trip, you focused mainly on the flashing scenery rather than your thoughts to keep a composed control over yourself. You weren't sure what to expect from this brief intermission at his house, but still you believed some uninterrupted time together would do more good than harm.

Under no delay did you reach the household in question, stepping out to be led into a drawing room to wait, ultimately meeting the arrival of stunned, yet zealous faces of the couple who welcomed your sudden visit with pompous warmth.

“Your highness, to what do we owe the honor?” Outlook greedily rubbed his hands together.

You maintained a steady gaze over them. “I come to bring you a gift,” the valet that had accompanied you inside holding the parcel in question went to hand over the package to Outlook. 

“My, you didnˋt have to!” Didit exclaimed in delight, visibly pleased and greedily eyeing the packaging.

Even if the reality remained that the gesture was done out of obligation and procedures, disgust swelled inside you at the sight of the true character overflowing from the couple. You were raised with modesty and seeing such a tainted display of emotions unnerved you. Refusing to acknowledge their glee, you continued on another note. “I also came bearing an invitation for a ball that is to happen later this week. My engagement to your son is to be revealed to the masses there.” You curtly added, forcing yourself to keep eye contact.

Once again, the couple rejoiced as you placed down an invitation on the table. “What wonderful news, we will be sure to attend,” the man spoke and you gave a rigid smile.

Now that formalities had been cast aside, you felt the speed of your heart accelerate at the true purpose of your visit. “May I deliver the news to Sabo myself?” You inquired to the couple. 

They glanced at each other, forcing your heartbeat near cardiac arrest. “Unfortunately we're afraid Sabo is away at the moment…” Didit spoke in a small voice.

It felt as if an invisible weight had been dropped on your shoulders — you had rehearsed yourself day and night for this moment and he wasn't here? To be honest you did find it odd how his parents were the only ones to greet you. “Where is he?” Your tone neared shaking, leaving you with no choice but to intertwine your fingers until your knuckles turned pale.

Outlook shook his head. “We're afraid we don't know. Sabo has a tendency to… slip out to God knows where.” Seeing as you blankly stared following his statement, he quickly waved his hands about as if it was a trivial matter. “It is no need for concern your highness, he is an honorable gentleman.” 

It seems clear that both parents were in the dark as to Sabo's business. But his whereabouts and occupations weren't your primary concern, meaning the prevention of the dissolvement of your engagement. “I can wait,” you abruptly voiced aloud before your thoughts had sorted themselves out.

“A-are you sure, your highness? We have no idea when he will be back,” Didit asked, most likely more concerned with your overall impression of their son than your well-being in waiting.

“I don't mind waiting until night time if I have to,” you affirmed. The couple refused to defy your authority and instead awkwardly allowed you to make yourself at home before slipping out with their present in hand. Thus began your gut wrenching waiting; lonely from the absence of the valet you had dismissed, sweet from the aroma of tea you were served to consume and dreadful from the boredom that seized you after an hour. 

You had scrutinized every nook and crazy of the room, grown tired of the sunflower colored walls and longed to stretch your legs. Given your title and their approval for being able to make yourself at home, you brought yourself to the door. There you considered your options and opted that a walk in the garden would be considered far from harmful and respectable. As such you twisted the doorknob and entered the deserted corridor. 

The residence was far smaller than your own. Nevertheless you wandered in search of the outdoors, which you assumed should be somewhere on the main floor. Yet, as you turned corners after corners, with no staff to ask for directions, you abandoned your aim and instead took interest in the overall decoration of the mansion. Flashy and austere, everything seemed to be displayed as an attempt to show off wealth rather than style. You scrunched your nose when you crossed paths with a credible counterfeited painting. Well it must have fooled one too many if it sustained its place atop the walls. 

Analyzing the brush technique of the artist, your ears picked up a muffled conversation from your right. Etiquette would have it that you were at this instance obliged to turn your heels and walked away, but this was the household of your fiance. Curiosity won over and, making sure to tread carefully on the carpet you took slow steps towards the door like opening in the wall that led inside a room you never got the chance to lay eyes upon.

The familiar voice of Sabo's parents filled your ears. 

“A vase? To think she took all this trouble to bring us mere pottery,” the harsh voice of Didit discredited your gift.

“This is only the beginning, I'm sure we'll be granted far more luxuries over time,” Outlook spoke with disdain.

Hearing their blasphemy far from scared your heart, instead hardening your ill sentiment towards the despicable pair. With such personalities for parents, no wonder Sabo wished to get away. You would want to do as much too. 

As your eyes darkened by their chatter, a hand came to grab your arm from behind and another, quick like the wind, placed itself atop your mouth to prevent a pitch from leaving your lips. Alerted, you clawed your free hand at your face to remove the caging. Your heart raced. Your palm grew sweaty. Your eyes widened in alert. And your insides churned in discomfort. 

However, you were wheeled around by the hand clutching your arm and was met with the sight of Sabo; his round eyes, steady and blank, stared directly in yours while the hand he had used to silence you moved to gesture a silent motion at his lips. 

Identifying him had made the uncomfortable beating of your chest shrink down into a heavy breathing. Your gaze lowered at the finger he had put at his lips and before you had the chance to look back into his eyes, he dragged you away with the clutch he kept over your arm. It was probably the biggest affront someone outside your family had ever dared to pose to you in your life. Yet you knew better than to speak aloud words of protestation, instead staring confused gazes at the broad back of Sabo, his jacket removed to reveal a sweater vest that lined the length of his shoulders sharply. The nape of his neck too was exposed, and shamelessly, you looked.

Admittedly, you wanted to relish in the sight of his back slightly longer rather than be shoved into yet another sitting room, though smaller in size. You turned around to see Sabo close the door before he reeled on his heels, scorn thundering his features. This wasn't the second encounter you had envisioned. Far from it

“What do you think you were doing by eavesdropping on my parents?!” His voice far from minced the words that came out.

“Surprised I can be discreet?” You tempted as a joke with a sly smirk. 

His lips further inclined downward. “Does royalty always snoop around in people's business? What were you thinking of accomplishing either way?”  

You shrugged. “Snooping around? Well yes it is our duty to be aware of our subject's life. But let's say that this time around I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sabo found no amusement in your witty reply. “Why did you even come here? I received word when coming home that you were waiting in the drawing room but instead found you elsewhere.” 

This knived at your conscience, for you felt his opinion of you was lowering. Mix how he had caught you in a reproachable act which had put him in displeasure, along with the lack of warnings for your arrival and you would have very reticent traits to seek in a partner. 

You looked away in guilt. Your hand rummaged in the pocket of your dress to fetch the envelope you had set aside for him. “This is why I came,” you extended the invitation towards him.

Sabo eyed your hand rather than taking its content. “Don't tell me you're throwing yet another ball?” His tone was reproachful and you weren't sure why.

“It is for our engagement. Your presence is required,” taking matters into your own hands, you closed the distance with him and placed the envelope in his sweater vest pocket. Satisfied you took a step back and gave him a quaint smile.

“And that's reason enough to waste food and resources that many would kill for?” The anger in his eyes sent a chill down your spine.

You felt like blame was being cast on you, and you hated that sentiment when you weren't the one with power. “Listen, the problems you are speaking of are out of my control. I wasn't the one who decided to throw a ball and all I did was pay you and your family a visit out of respect to deliver the news myself,” you reeled in a harsh breath.

 “Discarding all sense of responsibility, I see. Pretty common for royalty, and nobles for that matter.” 

Your temper was starting to rise. “Can you stop speaking as if all the problems in the world are my fault?” 

“You are the princess of this country, and as you made quite clear last we spoke, you're skilled enough to govern this nation. So tell me why exactly are you excusing yourself from blame?” Sabo raised an eyebrow at you while crossing his arms.

You momentarily found yourself at a loss for words. Gripping your dress in anger, you gave a spiteful pout. He wasn't wrong, and you hated him for rubbing how you made sure not to be perceived as a useless figurehead in your face. “I–”

“Your brother is king too. And the entire nation knows how tight knitted your family is. You could have talked him out of it if you wanted.” Sabo looked like he had more to say but seeing as your jaw clenched from being interrupted, he stopped his monologue.

You had to stop yourself from taking in a deep breath through your mouth. With the fire burning in your insides and the words he had thrusted in your face, it was hard to keep face. “I didn't know you were so agaisn't balls.”

Sabo gave an impatient sigh. “Not just balls. Everything morally wrong with the lavish life of the wealthy. It is quite disgusting.” 

“Could that be your reason for abandoning this life?” 

Sabo kept quiet for an instant, realizing that he might have said more than expected. “Well half of it, yeah. I cannot stand to partake in such credulous behavior.” He walked past you to sit in an armchair.

“And has it ever crossed your mind that commoners would be no different from us if given the opportunity to live our life?” You turned to perpetuate a stare in his direction.

Sabo leaned on his knees with a grave air. “Because we deprived them from so much all their lives.”

“And you think running away from all of it will change something?”

“Probably not. But at the very least, I can break my part in the system and live a life I consider more fruitful.” 

“You are odd.” You bluntly voiced, walking to sit in front of him. “I can't decide whether to dislike you after the accusations you push my way or admire the sympathy you feel for the common people.”

“Think whatever you want of me, I do not care,” his words and conviction striked you as truthful, enough that it caused a slight jealousy to form in you towards having enough courage to remain unbothered.

“You do not care because of my status. I almost pity you, Sabo.” 

“What?” He lifted his head with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes surveying your features in search for answers.

“You cannot see further than my title of princess, which pains me. I however have been able to look past your many disrespectful behavior and remarks to deduce in our short time together that you are hard headed, will driven and possess a great deal of sympathy, which I find quite likable in a man. However I wonder if you have been able to discern any good qualities in me.”  

A pause, thick in silence occurred.

“Mhmh, I see.” You stood, harboring a hurt expression, feeling you had left a weak impression on his person. “Unfortunately things are already in motion for the ball, and invitations have already been sent and received as we speak. I hope to see you there in good spirits for the sake of the celebration.” 

Part 3

[milfstalin]

Hey, I saw your post, and I just so happen to be looking for advice on how to organize. I would greatly appreciate any assistance you can provide!

hi. well that was sort of a trick post in that your circumstances are going to affect your choices very much ! down to class position & location i would say. also i am writing this assuming that you have no experience at all & are also a communist / dialectical materialist.

the communist movement in the us is very fractured right now, as well as a low level of class consciousness (due to imperialism & de-industrialization) that is easily redirected towards rightwing organizing because of settlerism & white supremacy and likely you are going to find more non-communists (anarchists, radlibs, etc) than communists around in your area - do not take this as being impossible to work with them, and especially if you do not know any other communists in your area then you will be alone otherwise.

my experience is mostly related to student activism starting from college and precisely, single-issue activism related to the pro-palestine movement & lgbt+ rights organizing, but i would say that the most important first step is to take stock of your material conditions.

what progressive groups currently exist in your area? student groups like ydsa at a local university? branches and chapters of cpusa or psl? a food not bombs group? horizontalist mutual aid groups? dsa chapters? bds or jvp? tenants unions and trade unions? what concrete goals have they accomplished? which ones are viable for you to show up and contribute towards? for example if you are a studnet it will be naturally easier for you to get into student organizations. if you are a service worker then chat with other service workers in your workplace and get a read of the situation. are there local protests going on? reformist efforts or dual power building? etc. try contacting them. ask what they are all about and how you can contribute.

most likely, there will be public events to try and entice the masses to join up for protests & rallies. check local facebook, instagram, reddit, other social medias.

the first goal here is to find a low-barrier entry point to get experience with any type of organizing in the first place, essentially to get your feet wet, whether with horizontalists or with big tent groups or full-fledged democratic centralists- inevitably, you will experience positive and negative sides of each organizational style; what is important is learning by doing- iterate on your past efforts, and dont repeat techniques that lead to disaster. it is learning by doing.

the second goal is to build up a local network of people you know and can trust in the local scene so to speak, finding potentially other communists too. odds are that you will have to deal with a deluge of non-communists in general, but you can also demonstrate communist organizational techniques and educate other organizers by practice- the most convincing way is to demonstrate the correctness of your theory by actually doing it and actually winning so to speak.

the third goal is more my read on the circumstances - we must prioritize education on the class struggle and creating new communists requires talking to non-communists. the first two goals will lead to this naturally. but talking is not enough, demonstration is also required.

but the hardest part is the first step, actually making contact with people, then the rest will follow naturally in my opinion. anyways good luck out there, it is tough, but i believe in you!!!

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

OC Tag Game

saw @dragonologist-phd do this and put out an open tag so I figured I'd introduce the sad mushroom lady that I talk way too much about!

I'll tag @nuclearanomaly, @vargonautic, @urdnotgrunt, @dovahgarbage, @girlwonderers, @themilokin, @star-graze, @starlightsylph, @blujayonthewing, @parad0xymoron, @merrigelblogs, @ramblerogue, @msnoblesix, @ghilegab and anyone else who wants to do this! I literally only picked like the top folks I see in my activity feed but y'all know I love a good OC chat. Please feel free to join!

(art by @/ryuichifoxe, design by @/arlohawthorne)

— GENERAL

Name: Elowyn "Wyn" Bannon

Alias: Wyn is her nickname, but it's also what she chooses to introduce herself as. Elowyn is just too long!

Gender: Cis(ish) woman. I think she's probably got some gnc fuckery going on somewhere but honestly she's got a job (surviving Barovia) so she doesn't really care about that rn

Age: 31

Spoken Language: Common, Elvish, Infernal

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Formerly? Wandering cleric of the grave, offeror of last rites, funeral planner and overall aid to the living left behind. Now? Barovia tour guide to a bunch of idiots that she unfortunately has gotten to care a lot about. (And the rogue.)

—FAVOURITE

Colour: Dark green or dark blue! Ideal is that phtalo green color honestly

Entertainment: One of Wyn's guilty pleasures wrt her station is that she actually really loves professional live music. She isn't much of a theater person, but she has a singular love for orchestra or ballet performances, and absolutely has invited wannabe suitors out to see a show strictly as an excuse to make the trip. (And if she genuinely likes them? Well, those boxes ARE pretty dark...)

Pastime: Hiking, especially when it takes her out to scenic locales that she can paint. Painting was always her preferred excuse for carving out some time alone, and she much preferred the effort of getting OUT somewhere over hiding away in her studio. It was always too easy for someone to interrupt her at the family house.

Food: Poached pears, especially over yogurt or some kind of vanilla custard. Sprinkle some cinnamon granola over them and Wyn is in heaven.

Drink: A strong roasted oolong tea, or coffee. She's fine with alcohol when the situation calls for it - and admittedly, there have been MANY situations lately that have called for it - but she still mostly prefers the company of a drink with a different kind of bite.

— HAVE THEY...

Passed University: Technically no, but Wyn did get something close to a university education. Her parents were insistent that she be well-schooled, even if they wouldn't let her follow her brother to one of the actual colleges.

Had Sex: Enthusiastically, yes.

Had Sex in Public: Not really. Wyn has gotten a little handsy in public, sure, but she still requires a closed door when clothes start coming off.

Got Tattoos: Not yet, but she's not opposed to the idea.

Got Piercings: Quite a few ear piercings, but that's it. So far, anyway.

Got Scarred: Yes! Wyn has a nasty one where her neck joins her shoulder from a fight with one of the Viscountesses that got out of hand.

Had a Broken Heart: Oh, big time. Wyn learned early how to spot potential suitors who were only trying to use her as a status upgrade, or were just interested in a turn with the local devilspawn, but there was one lad who showed a genuine attraction to her, and Wyn began spending a lot of time with him. Unfortunately, he was also deeply ashamed of that attraction, and put a lot of effort into hiding their courtship from, uh, everyone that he could. Wyn dropped him the moment she found out, but her affection for him had been genuine too, and she spent a good long while afterwards nursing her hurt feelings.

— ARE THEY...

A Cuddler: More than she would ever admit. Wyn holds herself at a certain distance from most people unless she has petitioned them for an evening, but given time to cultivate some trust, she is extremely physically affectionate. She likes to be the big spoon. :>

Scared Easily: Of certain things, yes. Wyn is easily put off by wanton violence, and people that are capable of it tend to scare her pretty badly, but things like ghosts? Monsters? Death? It takes quite a lot of effort for things like THAT to get to her.

Jealous Easily: Not unless she has been given due cause to believe that something truly does belong to her. She tends not to covet items or skills very much, and she doesn't really lay claim to people often enough to be called easily jealous, but she WILL defend whatever has been deemed unequivocally hers.

Trustworthy: M...mostly... Wyn doesn't often choose to break covenant with people, but she might go into a bargain with the intention of betrayal. That is NOT outside of the realm of possibility. Usually, though, she's true to her word.

— FAMILY...

Siblings: Her late brother, Atticus. He was her favorite person in the whole wide world, and she tried to move heaven and earth to bring him back.

Parents: Her mother and father, Analyn and Maxim Bannon, who Wyn has a...strained relationship with. She's pretty sure they're not looking for her.

Children: Actively not something Wyn is trying to pursue. She's already been told that she's going to die early, and even if she wanted children, she wouldn't subject them to that.

Pets: Never something that was allowed in the Bannon household. I don't know if Wyn would have even asked. She does hold a special reserve of fondness for the party wizard's familiar, a raven aptly named Lenore, which is probably as close as Wyn will ever get to a proper pet.

[veryace-ficrecs]

The Cat Returns Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Cafe du Chat by lacewood - Rated G

Haru, after the movie: of magic, cats, cake and tea

The Baron Returns by Poeticallymanic - Rated M

Haru believed her experience in the Cat Kingdom was all a dream until a stranger from Germany shows up and takes her on a new adventure.

The Bureau Files: Series 1 by Catsafari - Rated T

Ten years later, Haru finds herself dragged back into the world of Creations, catastrophes, and one dapper-looking cat.

Bridenapped by Catsafari - Rated G

Haru has been kidnapped - again - by an overzealous prince looking for a bride, and she's not amused. Especially when Baron's up to his usual dramatics and she's already running late for a childminding appointment. Oneshot, originally posted to Tumblr 17.04.20

Return to Me by CymraegDragon - Rated G

When Baron had told Haru that the Bureau doors would always be open to her he hadn't meant only if she was in trouble. Three years have passed before the distraught brunette burst back into their lives.

Carpe Diem by thedrunkenwerewolf - Rated G

After coming home from a case that required him to become temporarily human, Baron decides to make the last few hours as a human count. Haru/Baron. Based on Catsafari's fic The Bureau Files "Red" episode.

Inclement Weather by onekisstotakewithme - Rated G

It was just an average day, until it started snowing in July. And Haru knows there's magic involved, so she heads to the Bureau for answers. Hinted-at Baron x Haru, and just some good old fun for my first foray into TCR in a year.

Deeply Ingrained by CymraegDragon - Rated T

Years have passed since the Cat Kingdom incident. Haru has returned to her mundane life but unknown to her the Bureau never left her. She is blissfully unaware until one of them makes a mistake. Haru finds herself thrown back into the world of magic whilst maintaining her human life. Everyone is ecstatic to have her back though Baron is alarmed to be suddenly developing all sorts of emotions and feelings. Everything seems to be going well but Haru holds a deadly family secret which will result in heartache for all.

Walk Any Which Way by grr_0wl - Rated G

Haru enlists the aid of the Baron to apply to college. Fluff and life lessons ensue.

[sgiandubh]

Onlies at large

Sometimes (often, even), I can't sleep. And when I can't sleep, I get easily bored, if not focused on something. And there was nothing of particular import on Netflix or Amazon Prime, yesterday night. Aaand, as I don't have access to my bookshelves back home, I went looking for a light something to read myself to the Land of Nod.

I am, since forever, a solid reader of non-fiction. Memoirs, diaries are a special interest, too. So I just wanted to see if there were any nice memoirs of people who went to Scotland in search of a new life/love/whatever, Under The Tuscan Sun -style. Everand/Scribd is a decent starting point for the such, at 2 AM.

There weren't and I wonder why. But as I was browsing around, lo and behold, I found a tiny, self-published memoir by a certain Ninya (not her real name, of course): Scotland with a Stranger (2020).

Great literature it is not. It is naive and the narrative line sounded really, really meh to me: a 43 year old Alabama depressed divorcee finds healing and a renewed purpose for life, while traveling to Scotland with an improbable companion.

So, I skimmed and skimmed and skimmed (FFS, when is she going to PACK, this one?). Then, I found this and no, I am not sorry AT ALL for the length (passages are bolded by me).

Thank you Baby Jesus, she finally made it to her EDI flight:

'(...) I noticed a little emblem on the shirts of many of the women on this flight. It looked like mountains and said Peaker. All the women were laughing and chatting and carrying on like they had known each other forever.

“Is this your first trip to Scotland?” I tried to make small talk with the lady next to me.

“Heavens, no! It’s my sixth.”

“Wow,” I said. “It’s such a big world, but you keep coming back here?”

“Yes, it’s just incredibly beautiful. I never get tired of it. There is no other place as magical on earth.” She smiled wistfully. “I’m actually coming for a gala.”

“A gala?” I parroted back to her. I thought galas were reserved for Barbie movies. In my social circle, no one I knew ever attended a gala.

“Yes! It’s called My Peak Challenge.” She leaned in closer, excited to share. “Have you read the Outlander series?”

“Funny you ask that because I just downloaded the first book.” It seemed like required reading when you went to Scotland. I loved to read and had nothing but time due to my social media fast, so it was sitting unopened on my iPad.

“Well, the character of Jamie is played by Sam Heughan, and he is the founder of My Peak Challenge. It’s not just a club; it’s a movement, and every year they have a gala in Edinburgh. People come from all over the world for this event.”

The germaphobe next to me chimed in. “This is my first year, but he has truly changed my life. I’ve lost twenty-two pounds.” I was impressed, having weighed nearly two hundred myself at one point. Losing sixty of it was one of the biggest accomplishments of my life.

“Losing weight is so hard,” I commiserated with her. “How did you do it?”

“The boring way, eating right and exercising.” She laughed, and I laughed with her because I knew too well it was the only way that worked long-term.

She continued on. “My Peak Challenge is a training and nutrition program where we support and challenge each other, but it’s not just that because Sam has raised nearly two million dollars for charities all over the world. He’s just incredible.” She was practically swooning and literally fanning herself. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was hot, or because she was.

That nutrition program must include the Sam Heughan is a God Kool-aid.

“This conference includes a meet and greet and a gala and a special workout that Sam leads. He’s just an amazing human being,” she gushed. She clearly was in love with Sam Heughan.

“I have been chosen to introduce him,” the sweet older lady to my left said. “So, I’ve got the next eight hours to figure out the words to say to introduce the man who has completely changed my life.”

“Yes!” She went on. “It’s an incredible organization. He’s really affecting change on a global level.” (sic!)

Great. I am stuck between two evangelists at a Sam Heughan-is-the-greatest-human-in-the-world presentation.

“We have a Facebook group, and everyone is just so awesome and supportive. It really is a family.”

“And how much does it cost to be in this family?” I asked skeptically.

“It wasn’t much,” she defended, quickly changing the topic. “Nearly every penny is donated to charity. He is changing lives,” she stressed so incredibly seriously I had to cover my mouth to stifle a giggle.

Is this a cult? It sounds like a cult. I am trapped on an airplane for the next eight hours with the Sam Heughan cult.

Luckily for me, headphones exist. It was an overnight flight, which meant I could close my eyes and pretend to sleep, and there were movies to be seen.' (Ninya - Scotland with a Stranger: A Memoir, Chapter Thirteen).

For some reason, I doubt Ninya ever opened that OL first tome, on her IPad or elsewhere. But the point of my post is not to poke fun at SRH, MPC and all the gracious Peakers who read and often comment on this humble blog (@ladyjane-lj, @rosfrank immediately come to mind and I am sure they are not the only ones).

The reason I quoted this passage at almost full length, despite the paltry writing skills and abysmal grammar/spelling on display (Sweet Baby Jesus, please make people see the real difference between affect and effect, thank you and amen) is that we are dealing here with a unique perspective on a sizeable chunk of this fandom. You see, Ninya has no damn agenda to promote, in OL terms. She is not a shipper, but she is not an Anti, either. She couldn't care less if S+C=❤️, or if Tait rhymes with Fate (it rhymes with Bait, if you ask me). She doesn't know anything about OL, its cast, its Best Fans Ever, you and me and her.

And this is precisely why her perspective is so damn interesting. She is a mere passer-by, who failed to be grabbed in by the OTT Only Mommie gushing and who saw possessiveness and objectification disguised as love. She saw the most problematic, hypocrite and unimportant side of this whole experience and this whole fandom. And it's terrible and I am really sorry she did.

Maybe someone else than us reads this. For once, I wish they did, for it is an unadulterated, faraway echo of Real Life and the Real World. Selling that Toy Boi image is WRONG, *** and PR and TPTB. It's counterproductive and a total turnoff to real people who can't be arsed to even look for the Balmaclellan Adonis on Google, just because this fan substack is really, really embarrassing.

Of course, they blindly buy the booze, religiously sign in year after year to just about everything he sells around. Of course they show up every single time and pitch their tents on the rude city pavement in front of God Knows Which liquor store in Whoville, America. But they also show up with baked lasagna, pinch his ass (Madame Tussaud's, anyone?) and geriatrically swoon front row, cackling and giggling and catcalling like they were 12. It's also because of these women that OL lost its fabulous innocence and authenticity and it's because of these women we do have the Global Merry-Go-Round Seasonal Shitshow that keeps all of us (sickly, I am the first to admit it) engaged here.

Finally, this is also why I am closely following all the business side of this ahem, universe. It's the road less traveled by and of course, probably the most rewarding.

Shoot me, the very moment I turn into Neilie. Let it be clearly known beforehand. And no, please do not resuscitate. I'd be too ashamed.

[khizuo]

Video by 86.the.empire

Erika is a Black single mother of two young children.

She recently found stable housing after experiencing homelessness at the beginning of the pandemic. Erika and her daughter have several chronic health issues that require frequent trips to the doctor and the hospital, insurance doesn't cover all the amount of those appointments.

On top of that, her daughter Amonie was recently diagnosed with leukemia, and again insurance doesn't cover all of her treatments and Erika doesn't have enough to pay for them. Amonie recently started chemo and also has meds she needs to balance this treatment. Her chemo appointments are weekly so the cost adds up fast.

Can you help Erika afford the treatments her daughter needs to fight her leukemia?

CashApp : $Amariamother

ko-fi.com/fundsforerikasaunders

Erika’s Instagram: @mommaerika12

As if 11/17/2024, they are at $233 left for chemo meds! Anything helps!

Personally, I first met Erika after I got into mutual aid on instagram, I got into a group chat of people fundraising for her since May of 2023. She has been forced into raising funds to survive for a few years now, unfortunately, however I can also see how her livelihood has improved with mutual aid.

I am humbly asking for your support as well, as these support can’t be done by anyone but other people. Please reblog and send what you can!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari || Chp 6 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10 , Chp 11 , Chp 12.

Bucky's journey into livestock care proved to be a comedy of errors. The sheep, cows, and chickens seemed to have a personal vendetta against him, kicking and nudging every chance they got.

His struggles became a source of amusement for his viewers, who were entertained by Bucky's hilarious encounters with the farm animals.

As Bucky showcased his farming misadventures in his vlogs and live streams, the comments section flooded with laughter and cheeky remarks from his audience:

Viewer 1: "Bucky vs the Farm Animals: Who will win? Place your bets!"

Viewer 2: "This is better than a sitcom! I'm here for Bucky's farm follies."

Viewer 3: "Next sponsorship: a crash course in animal whispering. You'll need it, Bucky!"

Amid the laughter, Bucky was inundated with sponsorship offers, each attempting to address his newfound occupational hazards.

Brands promoting painkiller sprays, band-aids, and even protective gear wanted to ensure Bucky remained intact despite the kicks and pecks from his feisty farm companions.

In one of his live streams, Bucky showcased the various products, adding his own comedic twist, "Alright, folks, after being kicked in the behind more times than I can count, our sponsors have come to the rescue! Say hello to the 'Bucky Farm Survival Kit.' Got a kick? Spray some pain relief, slap on a band-aid, and you're good to go. Now, let's see if these things work..."

As Bucky delved into the world of milking cows, he found himself facing a task more challenging than he anticipated. Sweat dripped down his face, and the effort required to extract milk from the cow left him visibly exhausted. Unbeknownst to him, in the midst of the struggle, Bucky instinctively pulled his shirt to wipe away the accumulating sweat from his neck.

Little did Bucky know, this unintentional move caused a momentary frenzy among his viewers. As his t-shirt hitched up, revealing a glimpse of his well-defined six-pack, comments flooded the chat:

Viewer 1: "Who knew farming could be so steamy? 🌾😍"

Viewer 2: "Forget the cows, I'm here for Bucky's abs workout!"

Viewer 3: "The real milk we're getting is from Bucky's six-pack. Thank you, cows!"

While Bucky grappled with the intricacies of milking, his viewers seemed more interested in the unexpected display of his physique.

Y/N strolled into the scene, her expression nonchalant as she addressed Bucky who was in the midst of his live stream. "You need to check if the cow is comfortable, Bucky. Happy cows produce better milk."

Bucky, still catching his breath from the milking endeavor, nodded in agreement. However, his enthusiasm dimmed when Y/N's gaze fell upon his unintentionally exposed six-pack. Expecting a compliment, Bucky was taken aback when Y/N's response was far from what he anticipated.

"Put on sunscreen if you want to be shirtless," she remarked with an unimpressed tone and a cold expression that sent ripples of laughter through the live chat.

Viewer 1: "Y/N with the reality check! 😂"

Viewer 2: "She just killed the vibe. Well played, Y/N!"

Viewer 3: "Note to self: Farming is not an excuse to skip sunscreen. Thanks, Y/N!"

Viewer 4: "Y/N just ended Bucky's shirtless saga. RIP six-pack dreams."

Viewer 5: "I guess farming isn't a thirst trap after all. 😂"

The unexpected interaction with Y/N added an amusing twist to Bucky's livestream, making his farming escapades even more entertaining for his audience.

The guy who taught Bucky chuckled, noticing Y/N's departure and Bucky's surprised reaction. "Looks like she has a sense of humor after all. You're in for some fun times here."

Bucky, still amused by Y/N's unexpected laughter, grinned. "I guess so. I'll keep that in mind."

As the guy continued with the instructions, he suggested, "You know, it might be easier to handle the cows and lambs if you use a horse. Y/N's got a good one. You can ride, right?"

Bucky, eager for a new experience, nodded confidently. "Absolutely. I'll give it a try."

Eager to try something new, Bucky followed Samantha's directions to the horse barn. There, he found Y/N taking care of the horses. Samantha greeted him warmly, "Oh, you're here for the horse. Y/N is just around the corner."

Samantha looked like she was preparing to leave, gathering a few things. Bucky, ever the polite guest, asked, "Are you heading out?"

Samantha nodded, "Yes, just a quick trip to the market. If you need anything, feel free to ask Y/N. She knows her way around here."

Bucky smiled appreciatively, "Thanks, Samantha. Have a good trip to the market."

Y/N, engrossed in her task, Y/N seemed in harmony with the magnificent creature before her. Her rhythmic patting and soft whispers with the horse showcased a deep bond.

As Bucky approached, he marveled at the scene, captivated by the tranquility surrounding Y/N and the majestic white horse.

The horse, bathed in the soft glow of the barn's interior, stood tall and regal, its coat a pristine shade of white that gleamed even in the dim light. The gentle sway of its mane complemented its graceful stature, creating an image of elegance and strength.

Taking a moment to absorb the beauty of the horse, Bucky greeted Y/N. "Hey, hope I'm not interrupting anything. I heard you have a horse that could help me with the cows and lambs?"

Y/N turned with a friendly smile, "Not at all. This is Snowflake. She's a gentle one. Want to give it a try?"

Bucky eyed the majestic Snowflake, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Sure, I've ridden horses before. It's been a while, though."

Y/N handed Bucky a worn but well-maintained saddle. "Snowflake is quite patient. Take your time, and don't worry. She'll sense if you're uneasy."

With Y/N's guidance, Bucky carefully saddled up Snowflake, adjusting the stirrups to his comfort. As he mounted the horse, he couldn't help but admire the view from this elevated perspective.

Y/N offered some advice, "Hold the reins gently and guide her with your knees. She's responsive, so you should be fine."

Bucky nodded, ready to explore the farm from a different vantage point. Sensing Bucky's intent, Snowflake shifted slightly beneath him, a subtle indication of their newfound partnership.

Y/N shared a tidbit about Snowflake, "My father gave her the name Snowflake. But you could change it if you want."

Bucky pondered for a moment, observing the horse's reaction. "Alpine?"

Snowflake, seemingly content with the proposed change, responded positively.

Y/N grinned, "Seems like she likes it."

Bucky chuckled, "I could change her name? You make it sound like this horse is mine."

Y/N teased, "She's yours. I'll just add it to your bill."

Bucky playfully rolled his eyes, "Thanks." Then he asked,"Your mom seems like she's going to leave."

Y/N paused for a moment before responding, "Ah, it's today."

"Today?" Bucky questioned.

Y/N explained, "You've never been to the market, right? Let's go."

Arriving at the market, Bucky was taken aback by the lively ambiance. The bustle of people, the colorful displays, and the rich aroma of fresh produce filled the air.

Amidst the crowd, the distinct sound of laughter reached Bucky's ears, and he spotted several middle-aged women, including Y/N's mother, engaged in cheerful conversation. The lively market presented a new facet of the rural life Bucky was gradually becoming a part of.

Amused by the scene unfolding in the market, Bucky couldn't help but be curious. "Why are the moms standing there?"

Y/N, wearing a sly smile, replied, "Just watch."

A sharp 'PIIIP' of a whistle cut through the air, drawing everyone's attention. In what seemed like slow motion, a muscular man with long blond hair emerged, effortlessly carrying a sizable salmon on one shoulder and a box of shrimp on the other hand. Y/N leaned toward Bucky, offering an introduction, "His name is Thor, a fisherman, and also a fireman. And today, is Thor's Day."

Thor, the charismatic figure of the market, greeted his customers with a charming smile, "Ladies."

The moms erupted in cheers, expressing their excitement. Bucky watched as one exclaimed, "I'll buy the salmon today."

One mom exclaimed, "Did you see the way he carried that fish? Like a Greek god!"

A more enthusiastic mom shouted, "Move over, salmon! Thor is the real catch of the day!"

Observing Thor's presence, Bucky couldn't help but feel dwarfed. His usual charms seemed to pale in comparison to the charismatic fisherman.

Thor, spotting Y/N, enthusiastically raised his hand, "Y/N, my friend!"

Y/N nodded in acknowledgment and pulled Bucky along, explaining, "Let's go. Thor is a friendly man."

As they walked away, Bucky couldn't help but notice Y/N's lipstick and blush. It seemed Thor had a fan in her too, adding a humorous touch to the unexpected encounter at the market.

Y/N, with a playful smile, introduced Bucky to Thor, the charismatic fisherman-fireman who had captured the hearts of the local moms.

"Thor, meet Bucky. Bucky, meet Thor," Y/N said, savoring the amused expression on Bucky's face.

Thor extended his arms in a grand gesture, welcoming Bucky with an engulfing hug. The warmth of the embrace only served to emphasize the considerable size difference between the two men, leaving Bucky momentarily stunned and playfully deflating his pride.

Thor chuckled heartily, "Welcome to the neighborhood, Bucky! If you ever need a hand with anything, just let me know. We're all like a big family here."

Bucky, regaining his composure, managed a nod and a grateful smile. "Thanks, Thor. I appreciate it. And, uh, nice fish!"

Thor's eyes twinkled with amusement, "Ah, the mighty salmon! She's a beauty, isn't she? Catch of the day!"

Regaining his composure, Bucky responded with a half-smile, "Well, it's not as glamorous as hauling in a big catch like you, Thor."

Thor chuckled, "Ah, but every venture has its charm. Farming, fishing, it's all part of the tapestry of life. By the way, how's the farm treating you?"

Bucky, appreciating Thor's friendly demeanor, shared a brief overview of his farming journey, making light of his encounters with livestock and the challenges he faced.

Thor listened attentively, offering encouragement and a few lighthearted anecdotes from his experiences.

Thor clapped Bucky on the back, "Farming, huh? That's a hearty job. You gotta be tough as a bull to handle it. But trust me, it's rewarding. I've got a small garden myself. Tomatoes and peppers, you know. Adds a bit of spice to life!"

Bucky nodded, appreciating the friendly advice. "Yeah, I'm still figuring things out. But it's good to know there are people like you around."

Thor beamed, "Absolutely! We look out for each other here. If you ever need fresh fish or some veggies to spruce up your meals, just give me a holler. And if you're up for it, we should get together for a workout. Gotta keep the body in top shape!"

Bucky chuckled, glancing at Thor's impressive physique, "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I could use some tips on how to be as... robust as you."

Thor roared with laughter, "Robust, eh? I like that! Anytime you're ready, my friend. We'll turn you into a farming god in no time!"

Bucky, still riding the high of his positive day, received a call from his best friend, Steve Rogers. The cheerful tone of Steve's voice was infectious, and he quickly inquired about Bucky's new life in the countryside.

"Hey, Buck! How's farm life treating you?" Steve's voice echoed through the phone.

Bucky shared the highlights of his day, from learning to tend livestock to meeting Thor and experiencing the lively market. However, Steve's next revelation dropped like a bombshell.

"Oh, by the way," Steve casually added, "you remember Kate, right? The supermodel Kate? Well, she's been on a mission to find you. And guess what? She knows where you are, and she's heading your way!"

Bucky's heart skipped a beat, and panic set in. "Wait, what? Why is she looking for me? I'm not prepared for this! Steve, what do I do? I can't meet Kate like this!"

After thoroughly enjoying Bucky's flustered reaction, Steve teased, "Guess you made quite an impression, pal. Brace yourself for some Hollywood glamour in the countryside!"

The call ended with Steve's laughter ringing in Bucky's ears. He raced about Kate's expectations, wondering if he appeared presentable in his worn-out farm clothes.

Bucky took a glance at the mirror, questioning his choice of attire for the day. The smell of the countryside, mingled with the scent of animals and sweat, suddenly became more noticeable, and Bucky couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy.

As he anxiously awaited Kate's arrival, Bucky couldn't help but wonder how this unexpected visit might alter the course of his newly adopted farm life.

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

[vodika-vibes]

Can you write a Crosshair x reader and him with his shaky hands like we saw in season 3 and maybe reader comforting him...

For The Love Of A Bounty Hunter

Summary: Crosshair goes missing while dealing with your family. You have opinions about it.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Bounty Hunter Reader

Word Count: 1919

Warnings: Mentions of torture

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I decided to make this story a sequel to one of my Event Fics, I'll add the link so people can find it easily. Also, there are no spoilers here, because I haven't watched TBB at all. ^-^

For The Love Of A Sniper - Part 1 of this Mini Series

You stare, blankly, at the calendar on the datapad in front of you as you draw another red X over another day.

Three weeks.

It’s been three weeks since Crosshair went to deal with the PI who was looking into you on behalf of your family. Three weeks since he vanished.

You carefully set the datapad down on the table and release a shaky breath. Carefully shoving the burning rage down, for now.

Crosshair would sooner cut his own hands off than betray you. You know this. You know him. He would never tell your parents where you are. And, the fact that they haven’t shown up at your ship, is proof enough that Crosshair didn’t tell them anything.

The bigger question is, is Crosshair still alive.

Stars, you hope so. You’re not sure the galaxy will survive your rage if he isn’t. You’re not sure you’ll survive your rage if he isn’t.

You jerked out of your thoughts when your holo chimes. 

For a moment you consider ignoring it, you’re not in the mood for chatting. But, in the end, you cross the room and hit the button to answer the holo, “I’m not accepting any jobs at the moment.” You say bluntly.

“It is me.” Tech’s image flickers to life above the holo, “I have the information you asked for.”

You blink, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No harm done, I know that you are stressed.” He looks down at his datapad, “I am sending you the information I have.”

You pick your datapad back up as it chimes with the information he sent you. “Are you sure this is accurate?” You ask, as you see the information, “Last I heard the people who took him are wealthy.”

Tech sniffs, “Very sure. According to what I have found, they used to be wealthy. But then spent most of their fortune looking for their missing child.” He pauses, “That would be you, I am guessing.”

“Right in one, Tech.” You reply with a grimace.

“I am sure you had your reasons.” Tech says after a moment, “If Crosshair is anywhere, it is there.”

You scan the image that Tech sent you. Figures, it would be your childhood house. Not home. Never home. “Thanks Tech.”

“You are welcome.” He pauses, “Are you quite sure that you do not require aid? We can be there in a couple of days.”

“I have it.”

“They are your family.”

“Not all families are created equal, Tech. And this,” You hold up the datapad, "has been a long time coming.”

Tech sighs, “Comm when you have him back. And if you should think that you need our help-”

“I’ll be sure to let you know. Thanks for the intel, Tech. I mean it.”

“You do not have to thank me. Crosshair is my twin brother. I want him safe just as much as you do.”

“Even so. I know you’re not my biggest fan.”

Tech is quiet for a moment, “I will concede that, perhaps, I was too quick to judge.”

“Yeah, well…so was I. Water under the bridge.”

Tech smiles at you, a small smile, but a smile all the same, “I think I am beginning to see what Crosshair sees in you. Happy hunting.”

You flash a small smirk, “Yeah. Right back at you.” And then you kill the holo. You look back at the datapad, and swipe through the information.

“Hold on, Cross. I’ll be there soon.” You whisper to the empty ship.

“It’s a simple thing,” Crosshair rolls his eyes at the massive Devaronian looming over him, “All you have to do is tell us where the little mistress is.”

“I told you the truth weeks ago,” He drawls, “I can’t help you.” He grunts in pain as a large fist slams into his stomach, “Kriff-”

“Mistress,” The guard says with a frown, “I’m beginning to think that he’s telling the truth.”

‘Mistress’ is a slender woman with white blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Though slender isn’t really the right word. Crosshair would personally call her skeletal, but the first time he asked how they managed to make a corpse walk and talk, he was electrocuted, so he’s learned to hold his tongue.

“He has to know,” The woman’s voice is cold. “Why else would he have gone to the PI?”

“Because you’re offering a hell of a lot of credits, lady.” Crosshair lies.

“You do not speak to the Mistress,” The guard snaps, taking a menacing step towards Crosshair.

“No. Leave him. I tire of this.” The woman says, before she turns to the side, “What do you think, darling.”

‘Darling’ is her husband. Just as thin and skeletal as his white, though his hair is more of a golden blonde than the silvery blonde of his wife. If Crosshair had to guess, one of them bleaches their hair, though which one isn’t something he cares about.

He’s also crueler than his wife. 

Crosshair will likely have scars from the stun batons that ‘Darling’ used against him. If he hates ‘Mistress’, then Crosshair absolutely despises ‘Darling’. How either of these people could parent someone like his Princess is beyond him. Maybe she’s adopted.

He glances to the side when the door to the dungeons slams open and a trembling twi’lek hurries his, “Master! Mistress!” He gasps, “The Little Mistress is here.”

The room falls silent, “Are you quite sure?” The Mistress asks. 

“Yes ma’am,” The Twi’lek bobs into a bow, “She consented to a DNA scan. It’s her. Would you like me to bring her down?”

“No, we’ll-”

The door slams open again, “No need. I thought I’d come and say hello.”

Crosshair has always thought that his Princess is stunning, but seeing her standing in the doorway, clad in tight leather, and with her short hair falling into her eyes…she looks like an avenging angel and he’s never been more attracted to her in his life.

Impressive, since he can hardly keep his hands to himself as it is.

“Sweetheart!” The Mistress takes half a step towards her, “Your hair…your face! Why are you so fat?”

Princess closes her eyes for a moment, and then she turns and blatantly ignores everyone in the room, “Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, and for a moment, Crosshair can pretend that they’re on the ship and it’s just them. 

He slides his arms through the bars of the cell, and holds out his trembling hands, “Better, since you’re here.”

Her sharp eyes linger on his trembling hands, on the burn marks on his arms, chest, and stomach. Her gaze lingers on the bruises covering his face and his torso.

And her eyes go cold.

“Sweetling, why are you talking to that-” His Princess’ father says as he takes a step towards her, reaching out to touch her. 

There’s a flash of silver, only noticed because he was looking for it, and then there’s screaming as ‘Darling’ falls back, clutching his blood soaked arm. His Princess carefully uses a cloth to wipe the blood off the blade. 

“You took Crosshair.” Her voice is flat, emotionless. 

She’s clearly pissed.

“You know,” She continues, some emotion returning to her voice, and she directs her comment towards him, “I really only considered two options when coming here.”

“Oh yeah?” Cross asks as he leans against the bars.

“Hm. Option 1, they took you and killed you.” She continues lightly, “And if that was the case I was going to kill them all, burn this place to the ground, and then throw myself at the Empire until they managed to kill me.”

“Dramatic.”

She shrugs a single shoulder, “Option 2, is that they took you and were using you as bait to make me come here. In this scenario, you were uninjured, just annoyed, and I just threatened great bodily harm and we carried on our way.”

She casts her gaze over him again, “Somehow,” She continues, “The idea that they might torture you never crossed my mind.”

“They are still your family, Princess. I’m not gonna blame you for not wanting to believe the worst of them.” Crosshair says lazily.

She turns to the cell door and effortlessly picks the lock and swings the door open, “Well, you’re the injured party, Cross. What do you want?”

“You have a blaster?”

She smiles and wordlessly passes it to him.

Even with nerve damage, and trembling hands, he’s still the best. 

Three shots. Three blaster rounds. 

Three dead bodies. 

His Princess takes the blaster back and slides it in her holster, before she helps him with a shirt she brought him, “Are you ready to go?” She asks.

“More than ready.” He leans against her, needing her support to make it back to the ship, “Let’s get out of here.”

A week later, you step into the bedroom on your ship, your gaze lingering on Crosshair. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, glaring at his shaking hands. Nerve damage takes weeks to heal, even with bacta.

His hands will be shaking for a while.

Maybe you’ll take Tech up on that offer for a 3 month long vacation on Pabu.

But first-

You enter the room and kneel in front of him, taking both of his hands in yours and pressing light kisses against the palms of his hands. “Do they hurt?” You ask.

“It’s mostly just an ache,” He admits, bitterly, “I’m not going to be able to-”

“Shh,” You release one of his hands and reach up to cup his cheek, “Crosshair, your only responsibility right now is to heal.”

He scowls at you, though you know he’s more annoyed at the situation than at you. “I feel useless.”

“Nonsense. You could never be useless.”

“You’re biased.”

“Mm, perhaps. A little.” You stand and settle on the bed next to him, “But I’m also honest. You will heal. You will get back to 100%. It just takes time.”

He scoffs.

“Don’t be like that.” You say as you lay your head on his shoulder, “After that Wookie broke my leg in three places, you didn’t accuse me of being a burden or of being useless, even though I felt like I was.”

Crosshair shakes his head, and then leans his head against yours, “You gonna use my words against me?”

“If I have to.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I suppose you did pay for the best doctors to see me.” 

“Yes, I did.” You reply smugly.

“Alright.” He turns to look at you properly, “I’ll be patient.”

“You’re a sniper, patience is your thing.” You tease him, throwing his words back at him.

His arms, strong and steady, hook around you and he pulls you onto his lap, “Yeah, yeah.” Crosshair leans in and kisses you hungrily, nipping at your lower lip roughly enough that you squeak, “So. You gonna tell me what you and Tech have been talking about?”

“...he’s invited us to come to Pabu until you finish recovery. I’m thinking that agreeing might be a good idea.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “If you think it’s a good idea, Princess, then I won’t argue. But I refuse to stay with my siblings.”

“Of course not, we’ll be staying here or in an inn.” You brush your fingers across his cheek, “I’ll go let him know.”

Crosshair tightens his grip around you, “You can tell him later. I want you for myself right now.”

You beam at him, “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Part 21: Brandon's Serenity

Summary: Introducing Yuno as Brandon, a busser at the cafe who simply wants some peace, quiet, and safety. Genre: general Word count: ~900 A/N: @mikuyuuss was commissioned for the art of Yuno.

..........

“There it is. Golden Dawn Heights,” Ciel said as she pointed out the car window to a tall building, sparkling from its many windows. “We’ll be living there from now on.”

Yuno stared at the building. Then he frowned. A high-rise condominium, full of so many—too many—other people. There was a lot of rock moving into such a crowded and public place. With more people, there was a higher likelihood that someone in the crowd might have ill intent. Moving somewhere out of the way, where no one went, appealed to Yuno more. Then again, living isolated from anyone else meant that if trouble did find them, anyone that could help them would also be far away.

What did Yuno fear more? Potential danger hiding around the corner or potential aid being too far out of reach?

Yuno took note of everything as he entered the condo. A front door that unlocked with a combination of key fob and passcode. Guards and cameras to see anyone who entered the lobby from all angles. Guards patrolling each floor of the building. An intercom at each condo’s door. And all condos required both a physical key and passcode to enter. If anything, the security of the place was a dream.

Yuno looked over the street in front of the building—he felt quite lucky that his new home had such a strategic view—and let himself relax. He told himself maybe it would be alright to live in this new place.

This was just a place though. People still couldn’t be trusted.

…..

With a firm grip on either side of his dirty dish bin, Yuno skirted around tables and the waiters moving to and fro in the dining area. He picked up dirty dishes to deliver to the back. He refilled water cups. If customers called out to him, he did his best to smile and nod in their direction. It took some time but Yuno now confidently believed he was used to his routine, balancing school and a part-time job.

While on his way to the kitchen, Yuno took notice of one of the window-facing tables. Seated at the table was Erika, a cafe regular, and a man in a knitted sweater and blazer with blond hair tied over his right shoulder. Their cleared plates were stacked on one side of the table as they chatted with one another. Yuno did have a little more space in his bin so he walked over.

“Did you need me to take your plates?” Yuno asked as he adjusted his hold on the dish bin to hold it under one arm.

“That’d be great, thanks,” Erika answered, smiling, and handed over the dirty dishes.

Yuno nodded. As he did his best to fit everything in his bin, his eyes glanced past the customers to their water cups. The cups were nearly empty so Yuno made a note to circle back around with a pitcher for refills. His gaze wandered to see out the window.

There was a crash followed by a scream.

Voices around him. A firm hand on Yuno’s shoulder. He was being moved.

The rest of the world faded as all his mind could process at the moment was the shadow he saw across the street.

Vacant but piercing eyes. A face tattooed with two lines. A familiar fur-lined coat.

He was there. Yuno tried to blink away his blurred vision but it got worse. He saw me. Yuno tried to breathe but his lungs felt squeezed shut. He’s back. He’s back. Yuno’s strength left him. He felt his body slump. He’s back he’s back he’sback he’sbackhe’sbackhe’sback!

Then it went dark.

A week passed.

When Yuno returned to work, he apologized to the customers.

“I’m sorry for troubling you and putting you in harm’s way,” Yuno whispered as he bowed to them. “I shouldn’t have lost my composure.”

“No, no. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Erika said and waved her hands. “Still, thank you for reaching out to make amends.” Along with the apology, the couple had their meal refunded. “I can’t wait to be back for a proper visit.”

The blond man waited for Erika to exit before speaking to Yuno.

“If you ever want professional help,” the man said as he handed Yuno a business card, “then drop by my office.” His smile was thin and cat-like. “Good day.” With that, he left.

Yuno frowned and shoved the business card in his pocket. He didn’t need to read the card to know that it wasn’t the help he was looking for.

.....

Extra Whipped Dream. One of the newer desserts on the special Staff’s Choice menu that quickly gained popularity.

The dish was a Neapolitan mousse. From top to bottom, the layers were strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate. There wasn’t much else to the dessert other than a sprig of mint leaf placed on top to give an aura of freshness to the dish. It was on the basic side, not needlessly complex. Yuno liked it that way.

If only everything was so simple, Yuno thought, something he’d been doing habitually as of late.

But life wasn’t going to be easy. Yuno always had to be careful. Be aware of his surroundings. Keep others at arm’s length. Tread lightly with new things. Second guess everything. Life had become exhausting.

Yuno’s life was hardly something sweet and desirable. His peers at school saw an intelligent dreamboat but that wasn’t the real him. In truth, he was burdened under layers of cold, bitterness, and doubt. Whatever peace he found was temporary and his happiness was likely going to end.

[clara-the-independent]

Exclusive Interview with Ljudmila Vetrova- Inside Billionaire Nathaniel Thorne's Latest Venture

CLARA: I'm here with my friend Ljudmila Vetrova to talk about the newest venture of reclusive billionaire Nathaniel Thorne- GAMA. Ljudmila, could you let the readers in on the secret- what exactly is this mysterious project about?

LJUDMILA: Sure, Clara! As part of White City's regeneration programme, Nathaniel has teamed up with the Carlise Group to create a cutting-edge medical clinic like no other. Introducing GAMA– a private sanctuary for the discerning, offering not just top-notch medical care and luxurious amenities, but also treatments so innovative they push the envelope of medical science.

CLARA: Wow! Ljudmila, it sounds like GAMA is really taking a proactive approach to healthcare. But can you tell us a bit more about the cutting-edge technology behind this new clinic?

LJUDMILA: Of course! Now, GAMA is not just run by human professionals, it's also aided by an advanced AI system known as KAI – Kronstadt Artificial Intelligence. KAI is the guiding force behind every intricate detail of GAMA, handling everything from calling patients over the PA system to performing complex surgical procedures. Even the doors have a touch of ingenuity, with no keys required- as KAI simply detects the presence of an RFID chip embedded in the clothing of both patients and staff, allowing swift and secure access to the premises. With KAI at the helm, patients and staff alike benefit from streamlined care.

CLARA: A medical AI? That's incredible! I've heard much of the medical technology at GAMA was developed by Kronstadt Industries and the Ether Biotech Corporation, as a cross-disciplinary partnership to create life-saving technology. Is that true?

LJUDMILA: It sure is, Clara! During the COVID-19 pandemic, GAMA even had several departments dedicated to researching the virus, assisting in creating a vaccine with multiple companies. From doctors to nurses and administrative personnel, the team at GAMA is comprised of skilled individuals who are committed to providing the best care possible. All of the GAMA staff are highly educated with advanced degrees and have specialized training in their respective fields.

CLARA: Stunning! Speaking of the GAMA staff, rumors surrounding the hiring of doctors Pavel Frydel and Akane Akenawa have made headlines, with claims that they supposedly transplanted a liver infected with EHV, leading to the unfortunate demise of the patient shortly after. Such allegations might raise questions about the hospital's staff selection process and adherence to medical guidelines and ethical standards. Do you have any comment on these accusations, Ljudmila?

LJUDMILA: Er- well, Clara, the management of GAMA Hospital has vehemently denied all allegations of unethical practices and maintains that they uphold the highest standards of care for all patients. They state that they conduct thorough background checks on all staff members, including doctors, and that any individuals found to be involved in unethical practices are immediately removed from their position. The hospital has a strict code of ethics that all staff must adhere to, and any violations are taken very seriously. In response to the specific claims about the transplant procedure, GAMA states that they are investigating the matter in cooperation with the relevant authorities.

CLARA: Wonderful! I'm afraid that's all we have time for at the moment- lovely chatting with you again, Ljudmila!

@therealharrywatson @artofdeductionbysholmes @johnhwatsonblog