#all I had to do was disable secure boot

[sl33py-g4m3r]

I feel really dumb~~~

all this crap about not being able to install linux on my windows computer cause of a windows update somehow bricking secure booting into linux (eshim verification error; something has gone horribly wrong) "system shutdown"

for the longest time I didn't know how to fix it and now feel really dumb; but also really relieved that I have my gaming computer running linux again~~!!

and my function keys ACTUALLY WORK~~~!!!

how did I not realize this sooner tho? all I had to do was go into the BIOS settings by spamming escape, going to setup for the bios, going to security, scrolling all the way down to where secure boot was buried, and turn that off... I turned fast boot off too cause I didn't know what it did or does, I just assume it tries to help you boot into windows faster.

pardon me for yelling but; HOW DID I NOT EVER NOTICE THAT OR THINK TO DO THAT??? I thought it was a more serious problem~~ unless secure boot is more important than I think it is.....

I FEEL STUPID BUT AM ALSO REALLY EXCITED AND HYPED TO BE ABLE TO RUN LINUX ON THIS MACHINE AGAIN~~~~!!!!! I NEVER THOUGHT I'D BE ABLE TO RUN LINUX ON HERE EVER AGAIN~~~!!

and in protest I will never run windows on this machine ever again~~~

also for some reason on my machine's bios hitting the escape key before boot starts a menu where you can choose where you want to boot from, instead of the setup easy mode thing where you change the boot order of stuff, tho you can do that but idk if it actually works or not.... cause hitting escape takes you to the boot menu, then setup to enter the BIOS instead of taking you immediately to the bios.... :/ I don't get it.... it used to go straight to the BIOS i thought~~

suck it microsoft~~~~

it is late plz help me, lol

seriously I was fully expecting the install to fail with secure boot off. stuff had failed so often that I just expected it to fail, but when the disk booted and I begun the install.... I didn't expect it to boot at all cause I didn't know that was the problem.... pleasantly surprised when debian actually boots and works fine~~~

BACK ON LINUX BABY~~~~~~ LET'S GOOOOOOO~~~~~~

[river-taxbird]

Have YOU got an old Windows PC Microsoft has told you can't run Windows 11? It's time to give it a new life!

How to install Windows 11 on unsupported PC Hardware using Rufus. You can also disable some other Windows 11 bullshit like data harvesting and needing a Microsoft account.

It has been in the news a lot lately that Windows 11 isn't allowed to be installed on PCs without certain requirements, including the TPM 2.0, a chip that was only included in PCs made in 2018 or later. This means that once Windows 10 stops receiving security updates, those PCs will not be able to (officially) run a safe, updated version of Windows anymore. This has led to an estimated 240 million PCs bound for the landfill. Thanks Microsoft! I get you don't want to be seen as the insecure one, but creating this much waste can't be the solution.

(I know nerds, Linux is a thing. I love you but we are not having that conversation. If you want to use Linux on an old PC you are already doing it and you don't need to tell me about it. People need Windows for all sorts of reasons that Linux won't cut.)

So lately I have been helping some under privileged teens get set up with PCs. Their school was giving away their old lab computers, and these kids would usually have no chance to afford even a basic computer. They had their hard drives pulled so I have been setting them up with SSDs, but the question was, what to do about the operating system? So I looked into it and I found out there IS actually a way to bypass Microsoft's system requirement and put Windows 11 on PCs as old as 2010.

You will need: Rufus: An open source ISO burning tool.

A Windows 11 ISO: Available from Microsoft.

A USB Flash Drive, at least 16GB.

A working PC to make the ISO, and a PC from 2018 or older you want to install Windows 11 on.

Here is the guide I used, but I will put it in my own words as well.

Download your Windows 11 ISO, and plug in your USB drive. It will be erased, so don't have anything valuable on it. Run Rufus, select your USB drive in the Device window, and select your Windows 11 ISO with the Select button. (There is supposed to be a feature in Rufus to download your ISO but I couldn't get it to work.?

Choose standard windows installation, and follow the screenshot for your settings. Once you are done that, press Start, and then the magic happens. Another window pops up allowing you to remove the system requirements, the need for a microsoft account, and turn off data collecting. Just click the options you want, and press ok to write your iso to a drive.

From there you just need to use the USB drive to install windows. I won't go into details here, but here are some resources if you don't know how to do it.

Boot your PC from a USB Drive

Install Windows 11 from USB Drive

If you had a licensed copy of Windows 10, Windows 11 will already be licensed. If you don't, then perhaps you can use some kind of... Activation Scripts for Microsoft software, that will allow you to activate them. Of course I cannot link such tools here. So there you go, now you can save a PC made from before 2018 from the landfill, and maybe give it to a deserving teen in the process. The more we can extend the lives of technology and keep it out of the trash, the better.

Additional note: This removes the requirement for having 4GB Minimum of RAM, but I think that requirement should honestly be higher. Windows 11 will be unusable slow on any system with below 8GB of RAM. 8GB is the minimum I think you should have before trying this but it still really not enough for modern use outside of light web and office work. I wouldn't recommend trying this on anything with 4GB or less. I am honestly shocked they are still selling brand new Windows 11 PCs with 4GB of ram. If you're not sure how much RAM you have, you can find out in the performance tab of Task Manager in Windows, if you click the More Details icon on the bottom right. If you don't have enough, RAM for old systems is super cheap and widely available so it would definitely be worth upgrading if you have a ram starved machine you'd like to give a new life.

[yetanotherlesbianonthiswebsite]

An overly complicated analysis of everything we know about Neve Gallus in canon, as well as some additional thoughts of mine on the themes surrounding her (because I am so gay for her already)

1. Canon information

- Her age is, as of yet, unknown. In the Tevinter Nights story The Streets of Minrathous, narrated in the first-person perspective by Neve, we read “He greeted me with a dismissive ‘young lady’ that made me think he’d forgotten my name” (216). However, this is a description by an older man, whose nephew is alive long enough that his “parents had disowned him years ago” (213). In another passage of the story, the following can be read: “The man was a con artist I’d turned in the year before. To be fair, he’d nearly gotten me killed the year before that, so we were even” (221). We can therefore be certain that she has engaged successfully in detective work for at least two years, and has likely been doing so for a while. We do not know when the story is set, neither do we know anything about the parallel stories of “The Wigmaker Job” and “Luck in the Gardens”. We get the information that a Venatori cultist was wearing clothes that are fading (220), and that the cult had long since lost much standing in society; it has likely been quite a number of years since 9:42. At the same time, we know of a Qunari invasion in the eastern part of the Tevinter Empire from 9:44/45 onward, with several major cities falling to the invaders. Neve describes the catacombs as “a place to hold a year’s worth of food and supplies, securing the city’s survival in case of blight or Qunari invasion” (232). A woman as observant and politically savvy as her would likely not frame an invasion as that much of a hypothetical in case of an ongoing war. It is reasonable to assume that the story takes place sometime around the middle of the forties. Which means that by the events of Veilguard, in the middle of the fifties, we should expect Neve to have had at least twelve years of experience as a private investigator, which places her likely age at minimum in the early thirties. (Not that I am hoping for anything 40 or upward, no, there is no MILF agenda here)

- She describes the manor of a rich man as “a residence nowhere near the third-rate bookseller where I rent a room” (216), locating her residence both outside of the rich parts of town, and informing us that she does not have the greatest of means.

- Likewise, we learn that her “family has more templars than mages. I’m sure that says a lot about me. The point is, I’m not from an old family and I felt as at home in Lady Varantus’s house as Jahvis looked” (218). Within the rigid social hierarchies of Tevinter, she is privileged by magehood, but not by blood. To the degree that Tevene social classes can be broken down so neatly into stratified categories, she seems to be somewhere in the lower ranks of the middle class.

- She is canonically disabled; an amputee wearing a prosthetic leg made of dwarven metal (215). In the comic The Missing #4, we see her prosthetic, it is designed as a cobra standing up in intimidation of an attacker, and the metal seems to be predominantly a bronze or gold with blue or silver accents (6). On her foot on the other leg, she is wearing a boot which has a bronze or gold tip symmetrical to the tail of the cobra, and a high plattformed heel (ibid). Combining that with the fact that she fights and runs with a prosthetic and a heeled boot (TSoM 215, TM4 16), we learn that she expresses immense control over her body.

- Likewise, she approaches all her actions, her appearance, and her communication verbal and physical with a high degree of precision and deliberation. Her outfit is perfectly composed, with white and dark leather as primary colours, the same blue-gold metal that her prosthetic is made out of for accents as well as her belt (which is a coiling snake, TM4 6), a dark turquiose for some of the cloth (such as pants and cravat), a light turquiose for such accents as her fingernails and her meticulously applied eyeliner, and some manner of cap akin to a graduation cap at the right side of her head, in an almost black brown, with gold details. The shape of the cap has the exact same angles as a rhombus as her earrings (TM4 9). The detail on the cap forms a snake. It has been posited by tumblr user @cleric4vampire that even her movement in the trailer reinforces the cobra/snake motive (https://www.tumblr.com/cleric4vampire/752850000700194816). Despite sometimes excrutiatingly long workdays (223), Neve puts an extreme amount of emphasis on her appearance. Even in the comic, while the style does feature very dynamic character movements while talking, her gestures stick out as particularly deliberate; she talks with her hands a lot, and with deliberation (see the appendix of this post for more). This speaks to a plethora of willpower, control, and a desire to maintain a controlled barrier between the self and the larger world.

- While writing this, I have come up with the theory that the blue accents of her apparell might partially be lyrium. If she is literally wearing lyrium makeup, I will marry her.

- The only two offensive types of magic that we see her use are ice magic (e.g. TSoM 226, 227, 235, TM4 16, 17), and a manner of magic that lets her freeze the moisture in the air around a person to stagger them (e.g. TSoM 214, TM4 17). Through cooling the air around herself a bit less, she manages to hide herself in mist (e.g. TSoM 214). She is capable of some healing magic (227).

- She has a network of contacts, acquaintances, and informants all over Minrathous, particularly in its underground.

- She loves salty fried fish (221). This is not only in line with Minrathous being a coastal capital, which has a distinct influence on the caloric inflow into the city and cuisine at large, but also, once again, stresses that she does not have much money at her disposal, by emphasizing that she eats fried fish from a cheap street food stall very regularly (221), which she calls her “fish dinners” (228).

- She canonically has straight dark brown hair, meticulously kept at the left side of her face to keep space for the cap on the right, brown eyes, and brown skin. It is furthermore canon that anyone who has a problem with that or wishes to change that with mods will be exploded via elemental magic. It is furthermore canon that I will not buy Veilguard if the game whitewashes her.

- She is involved with the Shadow Dragons in helping fugitive slaves (TM4 9, 20). She expressly approves of the use of armed violence against the institution of slavery. At one point, she comments: “The cult’s dead god wanted to bring Tevinter back to what it was—to its “glory.” It was nonsense, of course. It always was. The old empire was even more corrupt and heartless than what it is now, no matter how pretty the picture Corypheus painted” (TSoM 221). In her vocal resistance to the empire, she sees it as a good usage of her time to track down Venatori (214). In spite of her resistance against the empire, she considers the city her home and would like it to be better than it is (214, 221).

2. Themes: The noir detective and the empire

It goes without saying that the formational archetype behind the character of Neve Gallus is that of the noir detective. A solipsistic cynic with little means, a private investigator, called to investigate a crime scene in dance with and against the police, depending on the point of the story. The noir detective of the movies of the first half of the 20th century, the formational corpus from which stems the archetype, is distinctly tied to the metropolis; a story that needs the urban context, the urban scenery. While of course featuring a plentitude of settings and configurations, at the root of the archetype rest particularly a white, male, US-American figure. To bring Minrathous in parallel with New York particularly is in so far a welcome change as it means a partial departure from the orientalism underlying a lot of early descriptions of Tevinter in Dragon Age canon. But, to me at least, it raises the question of how well Dragon Age is equipped to tackle the arising thematic implications. Just like the Tevinter Empire, the United States of America is a slave society fueled by the deprivation of Indigenous communities and the physical exploitation of a racialized, disenfanchised class. The metropolis is the core of the imperial core; and Minrathous is, as the largest city of Thedas and the capital of Tevinter, certainly that. The Streets of Minrathous manages but a partial critique of the society of the imperial-colonial metropolis. While Neve remains critical of the templars, the undeniable cop stand-in, the critique remains bound to corruption the higher one goes in the chain of command, as well as the bureaucracy (231). The story, in particular, follows the very dangerous trope commonly found in copaganda that the base-level officers should be allowed to disobey the chain of command and act on their own, particularly when it comes to the deployment of heavy weaponry (234). That the base-level officer is as much an agent of imperial violence as the top of the hierarchy, turning the systemic and depersonal violence of the system into concrete interpersonal violence, cannot be formulated by the text.

Furthermore, the Venatori, in their supremacist-fascistic death cult, remain cast in ableistic terms that deprive their ideology of systemic connectedness: “that didn’t stop remaining loyalists from acting delusional and stirring up trouble when the mood struck. That’s fanatics for you” (213). That fascism is but the logical conclusion of empire, particularly a weakened and collapsing empire, remains just as unacknowledged. And yet, what haunts the story is a profound sense of loneliness and alienation. A rich man estranged and alienated from his nephew because of his fear of social repercussions for the nephews behavior, said nephew dying while grasping to any semblance of connection he can (“He knew what came next. He was searching for whatever company he had left” 215), Neve facing the cultists in their hideout alone because the templar Rana does not want to breach protocoll, hell, even the Venatori preacher making a ridiculous figure, alone and ignored on his soapbox while the masses rush by him and shut him out of their attention; everyone is lonely, seperated by the dividing and isolating forces of the empire. The imperial metropolis condenses people, yet they are emotionally distanced from one another. Neve’s final action in the story is to return to the rich old man, explaining to him that his nephew was trying to be good after all; a post-mortem attempt to mend but one severed connection between humans. Her entire character is defined by the trajectory that comes from wandering almost aimlessly in a desperate attempt to escape the solipsistic nature of the empire. Her defining emotional conflict is with the reality of empire, as much as her status as a brown, disabled, bisexual woman clashes with the roots of the figure of the noir detective. We see by the time of The Missing #4 that she finds a sense of fulfillment in working with the Shadow Dragons for the slaves and against the slavers, which hints at a character arc from TSoM to TM4. As Varric correctly observes, she has a heart of gold (TM4 20), one which she hides behind a particularly controlled facade, as stern as beautiful. How well her character plays out in Veilguard hinges entirely on the stories limited ability to discuss empire in meaningful terms, and the story’s willingness to further explore her emotional arc suggested between TSoM and TM4. I am furthermore worried about how well a series known for its overt centrism can handle the nuances that make her character so great, as well as fearing the reaction by gamers[TM] to having a brown, female, disabled, bisexual detective.

3. Appendix: I am gay for the way she talks with her hands and body

TM4 9

TM4 9

TM4 5

TM4 10

TM4 14

TM4 19

[elizabethsnuts]

So I don't know if you've seen spy kids 3, but basically there's a scene where the mum has to go on a mission with her baby because she has no baby sitter and she just carries her in a baby carrier. The scene is low-key badass. Anyway, I was wondering if you could do something like that for winterwidows daughter. Like they have no one to babysit her and she has to go on the mission with her parents.

P.S. I love your work.

Family Mission

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Bucky have no babysitter for you so they have no choice but to bring you on a mission to take down a HYDRA base.

A/N: Thank you for all the support on my work! It really means a lot to me that others enjoy reading it. It was my one year posting on tumblr a couple days ago, happy late tumblr birthday to me!

———

The morning sun filtered through the Avengers kitchen, casting a warm glow around the room where Bucky was finishing his coffee. Natasha, who was already dressed in her black tactical suit, was adjusting the baby carrier strapped to her chest, inside the carrier was you, gazing up at your mother with wide, curious eyes, cooing softly.

Bucky approached the two of you, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight. "Are you sure about this, Nat? Bringing Y/N along on a mission?"

Natasha gave him a reassuring smile. "We don't have much choice, do we? We can’t just keep her here by herself. Besides she’ll be looking at me the whole time."

Bucky leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. "Alright, we’ll keep her safe."

———

You all quickly boarded the Quinjet, where Tony was pacing the floor. Steve and Clint were gathered around a large holographic display of their mission target: a HYDRA base nestled in the Siberian wilderness.

Tony glanced up as Bucky and Natasha entered, you looked over to Tony with your little legs swinging in the carrier. "Well, look who's here. And they brought a little guest." His tone was a mix of amusement and surprise.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Y/N? Are you sure about this?"

"We don't have a babysitter," Natasha said with a hint of defiance. "We'll manage."

You were secured in your carrier, staring at the flashing lights and buttons inside the jet, your tiny hands reaching out to grab at the air. Natasha couldn't help but smile at your innocence. Bucky sat beside the two of you, keeping a watchful eye on both his family and the surroundings.

The Quinjet hummed as it sliced through the sky, descending towards the snow-covered landscape of Siberia. As they approached the drop zone, Tony ran through the plan one last time. "Alright, Natasha, Bucky, you're with me. Clint, Steve, Thor, you take the north entrance."

The team split into their assigned groups. Natasha and Bucky, with you securely strapped to Natasha's chest, moved stealthily through the forest. The snow crunched softly under their boots as they approached the base's southern entrance.

You played with the little beanie on your head, giggling quietly as you touched the fuzzy pom-pom. Natasha looked down and smiled at your happy mood, though her face had a hint of worry.

The team were able to hack into the security system, disabling the cameras and unlocking the doors.

"We're in," Steve whispered through the comms.

"Okay, Malyshka," Natasha whispered, adjusting the sound-dampening headphones over your little ears. "Time to be a good girl for Mama and Daddy."

You giggled and waved your tiny hands around as if you were part of the mission. You had no idea what was going on but you liked going on an adventure with your parents.

The three of you slipped into the shadows, Bucky’s eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. Natasha moved silently, her skills honed from years of time in the Red Room. Your presence, surprisingly, didn’t hinder her. Instead, it seemed to sharpen her focus, giving her a greater purpose which was to keep you safe.

Inside the base, the corridors were eerily quiet while dimly lit. The team had done their job well, creating diversions and taking out patrols. Bucky and Natasha moved methodically, their silent communication seamless.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Natasha whispered to you, her lips curving into a smile.

As the central control room became closer into view, you began to babble softly, your eyes wide with curiosity. Natasha glanced down and smiled. "Almost there, Dorogoy," she whispered.

Bucky placed a small charge on the door, and they waited for the soft beep indicating it was ready. With a nod, the door blew open, and they rushed inside.

Alarms blared throughout the base. HYDRA reinforcements were closing in fast. Natasha and Bucky moved swiftly, taking down enemies with a coordinated dance of skill and precision. You in your carrier, just watched Natasha with a smile on your little face, your tiny hands clapping at the flashes of movement, oblivious to the danger.

With the last of the Hydra agents taken down, Natasha and Bucky quickly began gathering data from the computers. Steve’s voice crackled over the comms. "Status?"

"All clear," Natasha replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "We’ve got the data."

Navigating through the maze of corridors, they reached the exit quickly and ran back into the snowy forest.

“Mama!” You giggled, your little fingers tangled in her hair as flakes of snow hit your little pink cheeks.

Natasha laughed and kissed your head. “You did your first mission! You did so well!”

———

Back on the Quinjet, as they soared towards home, Natasha leaned back in her seat, exhausted but relieved. You, now sleepy, nestled against your mother's chest, your tiny hand gripping Natasha's suit.

"You did great today, baby," Natasha whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You babbled sleepily and closed your eyes, now feeling all warm in safe in Natasha’s arms. You loved the little adventure you had today.

[littlebugs]

Can I request for Kylo Ren in which the returns with him from a failed mission? She made a mistake and maybe Kylo made it clear to her that he was very upset about it during an argument afterwards. She tries to make up for it by doing a mission on her own, only on this one she gets badly hurt and is brought back by Hux after finding her severely wounded/injured. When Kylo learns of it, he flips out thinking she wasn’t going to make it alive, but in the end, she survives and makes a full recovery. Something short and sweet in the end between them as he takes care of her during the healing process. Thanks! ❤️

(I hope this is okay! If not, feel free to ignore it!)

i love you

warnings: injury, very angsty (fluff ending), fem presenting reader (she/her pronouns), mild language, written at 1am so not the best proofreading, toxic kylo in the beginning 😓 a/n: thanks so much for the request love! i got carried away writing this lol, sorry if its a lil long!

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

"Shit," you cursed as you sprawled over the couch in yours and Kylo's living room. You'd messed up today. It was tiny, minuscule, just a little mistake. You hoped it wouldn't matter to Kylo. But you knew better.

The large door, black, matching most of the Commander's gloomy interior, swung open. And slammed shut. You nearly fell off the couch, already exhausted from the days work. "Hey Ky..." you trailed off. He looked absolutely terrifying. Blood on the toes of his boots. Holes ripped through his outfit. But the worst of all, his face. He looked- angry. Disappointed. Annoyed. Maybe even..disgusted?

"Shut up," He threatened, walking up to you. His arms crossed, feet spread apart, you knew you were in for it. From your spot now on the floor, huddled in a ball, you felt defenseless. "You messed up today," he scolded. "This was a covert operation. We had one shot at this, and you blew it." His voice was a low, seething growl.

"I'm sorry I had a- momentary.. lapse in judgment?" You didn't know what to say. This wasn't supposed to be a big deal. It was a tiny mess up. You forgot to disable a single security camera. Just one. It wouldn't matter anyhow, as the saber marks lining the walls of the Rebel base being hijacked was a sign as to who the attacker was.

"Sorry isn't going to fix this. We're on the brink of a war, and this mission was crucial. The Supreme Leader trusted us, and now, because of your mistake, we might have just handed our enemies a victory," he nearly shouted.

Kylo's voice rose as he continued, but it was as if you were underwater, the sounds muffled and distorted. Your eyes filled with tears, blurring your vision. You couldn't let him see you like this. "I-I'm sorry," you mumbled, as you got up from the ground and staggered to the door.

You scarcely cried. There were many things the two of you never did, which maybe you should have done. It wasn't a conventional relationship. You'd only cried in front of him once, years ago. He had left you, crumpled on the floor, unable to deal with the sudden emotion. He never told you he loved you. Not even once. You shared a ship, meals, even a bed with him, and even in your most intimate moments, he just... didn't seem to feel anything. At least on the exterior. You hoped.

"Leave me." you stammered, nose already running. "Did you think I was going to follow you? Pathetic. Absolutely worthless. Do you think I even care-" He stopped, dead in his tracks, after catching sight of your face, glimmering in tears. "M'sorry" you mumbled, and quietly closed the door behind you.

Breathing in the cool air of The Supremacy, you quickly wiped your face before any troopers nearby could catch sight. Word traveled fast, and although it was a big ship, news could be spread in mere hours. You remembered the first time you had to deal with the gossip, it had been your first one night stand with Kylo, before any relationship. You left in the dead of night, but one lucky Stormtrooper caught you on the security camera. The next day, half the the Supremacy was staring you down, and the other half was triumphantly giving you high fives (Knights of Ren included.)

Life seemed...simpler. Now you were plastered on the wall to Kylo's rooms, breathing in slightly sterile air as you tried to get your wits about you. It being 11pm already, you decided to make way to your old room. Walking down the hallway, you encountered little confrontation. That was the good part of being in relation to Kylo. Then there was the name calling, the teasing the "Commanders whore" whispered behind your back. It all made you want to cry again, and you were grateful to near your room.

As you unlocked the door, your old life greeted you. There wasn't much left really, as you had inhabited Kylo's space for the past months. You had thought maybe...maybe he was changing- that he would one day tell you how he felt? Yeah right, you thought, as you walked in, flopped down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Looking around you, a chair sat to your left, with a window showing the view of a million stars outside. A bathroom and dresser to your right, emptied of all your items. Not that you had any in the first place, but Kylo had spoiled you as of recent.

You couldn't stop thinking about him. His face when he saw your tears. The way he had yelled at you nonstop. The fact that he didn't seems to care.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced across the walls like haunting specters. Suddenly feeling cold, you huddled beneath the covers of your bed. The air was thick with silence, now broken only by the muffled sobs that racked your body. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, the fabric twisted and knotted in fists of despair. With each passing moment, the tears fall harder, faster, until you couldn't breath. You gasped, shuddered, and with a pounding headache, went to sleep, soiled clothes and all.

Unbeknownst to you, Kylo stood near your door, listening to your sobs feeling...terrible. He hated hearing you cry. It filled him with disgust not in you, but now in himself. For making you feel this way. And through the Force, he heard your thoughts, the desperate calls to be openly loved that Kylo had so valiantly ignored. He thought to wake you, but instead headed back to his quarters.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

The next morning, at 6 am sharp, you woke up with solid determination. You were going to show him you weren't pathetic, worthless...disgusting. You were always soft, especially in comparison to him, but you weren't pathetic. Or at least you hoped so.

As you headed to the mirror, you jumped at your reflection. That wouldn't do. You would also have to make it work with the meager amount of supplies at hand, but you could do it. After opting a shower to the refresher, so you could use scented soaps and lotions, you blow dried you hair, and styled it to the best of your ability. "Not too bad," You thought to yourself as you brushed on mascara and lip balm. "Nothing crazy" you told yourself, but betrayed your thoughts as you opted for a smaller sized uniform.

Exiting your room, you felt misery and despair inside of you, but at least you looked like you had it together. Making your way down to the control center of the Supremacy took quite a while, it being a literal Mega Class Dreadnought ship, but it gave you time to think. Think of what you were going to say to him. You could apologize. You could pretend nothing happened. You could act all mushy and touchy. Or just ignore him completely.

You decided to just fuck it and ball. Walking into the room, the control center hummed with the usual tension that permeated the First Order's headquarters. The air was thick with the weight of strategic discussions and the ever-present rivalry among its officers.

Then you saw him. The air seemed to crackle with electricity as he moved, his presence commanding attention. You had always been drawn to the enigmatic power he exuded, and despite the fight, that magnetic pull remained intact. You were immediately waved over by General Hux, and as you walked over to a control table in the very front of the room, getting closer, you regretted your decision. The mask, the robes...everything about him was just huge. Intimidating. Compared to your scantily dressed body, he looked like he could envelope you whole. Maybe you wanted him to.

Deciding to play with him a little, you boldly stood next to Hux, leaning over to look at the schematics on the table so Kylo had direct view of you. Though the mask concealed his emotions, you could sense the internal turmoil beneath it. He was distracted, and you knew why.

Hux sighed and rolled his eyes, in classic fashion. He was never one for your machinations, but continued explaining the mission at hand, obviously annoyed. You didn't bother listen, opting to shift around in a way that made Kylo's fists clench.

At what seemed like the end of the brief, Hux tiredly asked "So we'll need an Admiral or Commander to volunteer for this mission. As I know both of you do not care in the least so I will just-" You cut him off. "I'll do it." Both Kylo and Hux turned towards you, silent. "But you never do anything-" The General retorted. You roll your eyes. "Shut up Hux. I'm going." The redhead sputtered. "But-you... -You don't even care! Ever!" "Ok well, I'm a Commander, and I'm going," You spat, not bothering to glance at Kylo, who hadn't moved an inch in the last minute. You stormed away, but not before hearing Hux call "Don't screw this up Commander," and scoffing.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

It wasn't going well. You had overpowered the Rebel base, which was somewhat pitiful, but managed to get a blaster wound to the side which was currently steaming in a way that did not look safe. Most of your troops had made it through, save the couple of troopers who'd been shot here and there. The masks made it harder to remember they were human, people on the inside. Limping back to your ship, you woozily asked Hux to make someone check the surrounding areas for stragglers as you slumped into the seat, adrenaline still preventing you from feeling the full pain of your wound.

Setting the TIE on autopilot, slowly coming back to reality, you looked down to the left of your torso. You had almost dodged the blast, the wound cauterized by the superheated plasma, leaving a sizzling, blackened mark on your flesh. Smoke rose from the wound, carrying with it the acrid scent of burnt fabric and singed skin. The pain intensified with each passing second, as if a red-hot poker has been driven into your side.

You clenched your teeth, trying to stifle a scream, as you grasped at the wound. Your fingers came away slick with your own blood, which oozed from the wound and trickled down your side. The ride was short. Only 30 minutes at full speed. You could probably..maybe hold on. You busied yourself coating the wound with Bacta spray, which took most the time, considering the fact that every movement made your side burn and sting like never before.

After successfully applying the antiseptic, you started to see the giant that was the Supremacy. It slowly appeared as a behemoth of steel and darkness, adorned with the stark, angular design characteristic of First Order aesthetics you had come to be so familiar with. You were on course, but you'd have to manually land the plane. "Oh for Kriffs sake" you muttered to yourself, trying to figure out how you were even alive.

You painstakingly moved your right arm to the control panel, and started the descent, aiming for one of the many hangars. It seemed to take forever, but with a final, skillful maneuver, you brought the ship to a shaky landing on the hangar deck. The ship's landing struts had absorbed the impact, but the screech of metal against metal reverberated through the hangar.

You all but fell out of the fighter, letting out a strained "I'm aight-" before collapsing into the arms of medical personnel, whom immediately transported you to the medical wing.

Not known to you, the second of your arrival, Kylo was storming down the hall, looking menacing as ever. Although he looked same as ever, on the inside, his emotions swirled inside of him. He was freaking out. He powered through the med bay, drawing terrified looks from doctors and patients alike, not stopping until he found your room.

He ripped the door open, all calm was lost. "Is she alright?" He boomed, modified voice scaring the living daylights out of the doctors and nurses surrounding you. "S-Sir, erm-Commander we think she'll most likely survive with minor s-setback" A doctor answers, inspecting the wound as to not have to face Ren.

He sat down on a chair, further terrifying the staff with his presence. "She'd better," Kylo fumed, prepared to annihilate the staff over anything. He didn't know what made him feel like this, but he was prepared to wait days for you to awake. And wait he did.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

It was early morning. You had just woken up, not in the Med Bay, but... in his room. He was already awake, looking at you with those deep brown eyes. You looked around, surveying the surroundings. You were wearing his sleep clothes, all too big on you, hair smelling freshly washed. You had an IV hooked up to your arm, and the stiff bandage across your torso chafed against delicate skin.

"I'm sorry" He uttered, quietly. "I said those things, and I... shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I don't- feel like that about you. I think you're.." He trailed off. He'd never said sorry before. You didn't know how to react.

Looking at him, caring for you in your injury made you frown. "Why do you- why do you care?"

"Here, lay down. Have some soup." He nudged you gently, positioning pillows behind your head. You were so shocked, you almost forgot your previous question. "Wait, but why are you doing this?" You whisper, voice hoarse.

"Because I love you"

[blingblong55]

Silent allies- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Hiii I hope you're doing well Could you write a fic where the task force gets to know about a lab where makarov is making a huge weapon, they believe it's a nuclear weapon or something like that but when they reach the lab they see a huge metal room and inside, a woman. Probably in her 20s, bruised and chained and shock collar around her neck and all. They rescued her, brought her for questioning and found out she's the experiment and she has powers like enhanced strength durability stamina and energy production and manipulation telekinesis telepathy and blood manipulation. They recruit her thinking she'll be a useful addition to the team and she's very powerful, as they see her on the field. Then simon and her form a connection and they find solace in each other's trauma. ---- F!Reader, superhuman!au, romance?, fluff?(lets not trust these two tags) ----

A/N: I think I got carried away...so...yeah

The helicopter blades cut through the thick night air as Task Force 141 approached their target: a remote lab deep in the Ural Mountains. The mission brief had been grim—Intel suggested Makarov was developing a catastrophic weapon. Nuclear, perhaps. They couldn't let that stand. With Captain Price's gruff voice crackling over the comms, the team moved with the precision and lethality they were known for. "Approaching LZ," Soap announced, his voice thick with anticipation.

This was Soap's opportunity to finally end the name Vladimir Makarov.

"Remember, lads," Price said, "we're in and out. Neutralize the target, get the intel, and get out. Simple." Ghost exchanged glances with his teammates. His skull-patterned balaclava barely concealed the cold determination in his eyes. Ghost was a man of few words, but his presence was a comforting constant in the chaos of war. The lab loomed ahead, a dark, angular shadow against the snowy landscape. As the helicopter landed, the team disembarked, weapons at the ready.

The night was silent save for the crunch of their boots on the snow and the distant howl of the wind. "Alright, let's move," Price ordered, and the team advanced. They breached the lab's perimeter with practised ease.

Inside, the corridors were sterile and dimly lit, the air thick with the hum of machinery. Moving swiftly and silently, they cleared room after room, encountering minimal resistance. It was almost too easy. "Something's not right," Gaz muttered, voicing the unease they all felt. At the end of a long hallway, they found it—a massive metal door, more secure than any they’d encountered so far. Price signalled for a breach. With a deafening blast, they forced their way in, weapons raised. What they found inside made them freeze. The room was vast and industrial, filled with complex machinery and computer banks. But their eyes were drawn to the centre of the room, where a large glass chamber stood.

Inside was you—bruised and battered, chained to the floor with a shock collar around your neck. “Bloody hell,” Soap whispered, horror and anger lacing his voice. Ghost moved forward, his eyes locked on you. You looked up, and despite your condition, your eyes were defiant. This was no ordinary prisoner. “Price, we need to get her out of here,” Ghost said, urgency in his voice. Price nodded. "Ghost, Gaz, cover us. Soap, see if you can disable that collar." Gaz worked quickly, and with a few deft movements, the collar fell away.

Ghost gently lifted you, your body light and frail in his arms. You flinched at the contact but didn't resist. As he carried you out, the rest of the team provided cover, their weapons barking in the darkness as more of Makarov's men converged on your position. You made it back to the helicopter under a hail of gunfire. Once inside, you collapsed onto a stretcher, your breathing shallow but steady.

They secured you, minds racing with questions. Who were you? What had Makarov done to you? Back at the safehouse, the atmosphere was tense. You had been stabilized and were resting, but they all knew the real work was just beginning. As they gathered in the briefing room, Price addressed the team. Laswell had given Price your file. A subject stolen from a testing lab was easy to find the name of because of the serial number on your neck. “We need answers,” he said. “Y/N is our best lead. We’ve seen what Makarov is capable of, and we can’t afford any surprises.” Ghost had been quiet since the rescue, his eyes never straying far from where you were being held.

There was a connection there, a silent understanding that went beyond words. The interrogation room was cold and clinical, a stark contrast to the warmth they tried to project. You sat across from Ghost, your eyes wary but no longer filled with fear. “Y/N,” Ghost began softly, “we’re here to help. Can you tell us what Makarov was doing to you?” You hesitated, your eyes flicking to the door where Ghost stood guard. Finally, you spoke, your voice a whisper. “I was… an experiment. He wanted to create a weapon. Not a bomb, but a person.”

The room went silent. Ghost leaned forward. “What kind of weapon?” Your eyes met his, and he saw the pain and power within them. “Me. I have… abilities. Enhanced strength, durability, and stamina. I can manipulate energy, and use telekinesis, and telepathy. Even control blood.” The gravity of your words sank in. Makarov hadn’t been building a weapon; he’d been creating one. And now you were sitting in front of them, a living testament to his twisted ambitions.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Ghost’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but firm. You looked at him, a flicker of something passing between you. “I did. But he had ways of controlling me. The collar… it wasn’t just to shock me. It suppressed my abilities.” Ghost exchanged a glance with Price. This changed everything. “Y/N,” Price said, “we want to help you. We could use someone with your skills. But we need to know if you’re willing to fight with us.” You looked around the room, your eyes lingering on each of them before settling on Ghost. “I’ll fight. Not just for me, but for everyone Makarov has hurt. He needs to be stopped.” From that day on, you became part of Task Force 141.

Training with them was intense—your abilities were unlike anything they’d ever encountered. You could lift vehicles with your mind, and heal wounds with a touch, and your combat skills were unparalleled. On the battlefield, you were a force of nature, your powers turning the tide of many engagements. But it was your connection with Ghost that truly stood out. You spent hours together, often in silence, yet there was an unspoken bond between you. Both of you carried scars from your pasts, both had seen and endured more than anyone should.

You found solace in each other’s presence, a quiet understanding that needed no words. One night, after a particularly brutal mission, you found yourselves on the rooftop of the safe house. The night was clear, stars scattered across the sky. You were sitting on the edge, your legs dangling over the side, while Ghost stood beside you, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth. Ghost approached quietly, not wanting to intrude. But you noticed him and gave a small smile.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Hey,” he replied, leaning against the railing. “You alright?” You nodded, “Just needed some fresh air.” Ghost’s eyes were distant, his mind clearly on something else. “I never thought I’d be here,” you said after a moment. “Fighting alongside people who care.” Ghost placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’re part of the team now. We’ve got your back.” You looked at him, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you. All of you.” Ghost’s hand found yours, a rare gesture of comfort.

The two of you stood there, the night wrapping around you like a cloak. At that moment, despite the darkness and the war raging around you, there was a sense of peace. You weren’t just soldiers; you were a family…a messed up, military, full of badass soldiers with dark backgrounds kind of family.

Over the following months, your integration into the team was seamless. Missions that seemed impossible were now within reach thanks to your abilities. Whether it was breaching heavily fortified compounds or extracting high-value targets, your skills made the difference. During one mission deep in enemy territory, you found yourselves pinned down by heavy fire. The situation was dire, and retreat seemed like the only option. But you had other plans.

“Stay behind me,” you ordered, your voice steady despite the chaos. With a wave of your hand, an invisible force field sprung up, deflecting bullets and giving the team the cover they needed to advance. You moved with purpose, your powers creating a path through the enemy's defences. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying all at once. Ghost stayed close to you, his skills complementing yours. You worked in perfect harmony, a deadly duo that left the enemy scrambling.

By the end of the mission, the objective was secured, and you all made it back in one piece. Back at the base, as the adrenaline wore off, you noticed Ghost watching you. He had a soft spot for you, and it was clear you drew strength from each other. One evening, as you sat around a campfire, Ghost finally opened up about his past. His voice was low, the crackling fire casting shadows across his face.

“I lost everyone I cared about,” he said, his eyes fixed on the flames. “My family…friends. All gone. I thought I’d never find that kind of connection again.” You reached out, your hand covering his. “You have us now,” you said softly. “You have me.” He looked at you, the pain in his eyes softening. “I know. And I’m grateful for that every day.” In the quiet moments between missions, you found yourselves together often. You found solace in each other’s company, healing the wounds that ran deep. It was a slow process, but with each passing day, the scars seemed a little less painful.

Then came the day of the final assault on Makarov’s stronghold. The mission was clear—take him down and end his reign of terror. The stakes had never been higher. As you prepared, you approached Ghost, determination etched on your face. “This ends today,” you said. He nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce intensity. “Together.” The final assault was brutal. The stronghold was heavily defended, and every step forward was hard-fought.

In the end, it was a combination of your powers and Ghost’s precision that brought Makarov to his knees. As the dust settled, you stood over him, the weight of your journey crashing down on you. It was over. Back at the safehouse, there was a sense of relief but also a lingering sadness. You and Ghost stood together, looking out over the horizon. “We did it,” you said softly. “Yeah,” Ghost replied. “We did.” You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the shared pain and hope. “Thank you, Simon. For everything.” He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his touch a balm for your wounded soul. “Thank you, Y/N. For giving me something to fight for.” In each other’s arms, you found the peace you had long sought. Together, you were stronger. Together, you were home.

It's a funny feeling to have found a home in the arms that once rescued from a cage.

Tags: @liyanahelena @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @Llelannie @Macnches2 @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @born4biriyani @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza

[trashpandato]

Vigilante

“This is the third Cadmus associate this month,” Alex says, frowning as she looks at the screen in front of her.

“I know.”

Kara is standing next to her sister. They’re reading the police report that Maggie sent over. It’s the third time someone has handcuffed a known member of Cadmus to a police cruiser while the patrol officers were inside a coffee shop on their break. The first two had already been on the DEO’s radar, but the third person’s connection to the terrorist group was unclear until Winn did some more digging and found a financial link.

“Clearly, someone has better intel than we do.”

Alex is unhappy about it. Sure, it’s good to get these guys off the streets, and without using any DEO resources to boot, but Kara knows her sister doesn’t like being in the dark about who might be behind these citizen arrests.

Kara bumps her shoulder against Alex. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

Alex nods but doesn’t look convinced.

The tension at the DEO spikes a couple of weeks later when not one but two people are found, this time handcuffed to NCPD’s front doors. Winn tries to find footage of the moment it happened from nearby security cameras, but he has to tell Alex that the cameras were not only disabled but any view of the front door area would have been obscured by a cloaking device he retrieved from a small ledge on the building itself.

“Clearly, whoever is doing this is not only way ahead of us, but they know their way around technology the DEO hasn’t even heard of yet.”

Alex is frustrated, and J’onn is concerned.

“We don’t know what Cadmus will do now that someone is picking off their members one by one,” he says. “It’s a provocation. They could retaliate.”

Kara agrees. Whoever is doing this is playing with fire. She’s worried about the city, worried that Cadmus might unleash one of their signature large-scale attacks in order to scare off this vigilante. She knows what Cadmus is capable of. Kara shudders as she remembers her last encounter with them, when she was kidnapped and forced by Lillian Luthor to blow out her powers and then had her blood drawn against her will.

She’s also worried about Lena.

Kara knows from past interactions that anytime Cadmus strikes, Lena is usually in the crosshairs somehow. Either as bait, or as a human shield, or simply because Lena is nearby, trying to foil her mother’s latest plans to do harm. She decides to pay Lena a visit to warn her.

When she lands on Lena’s balcony at L-Corp, she finds her hunched over at her desk. Kara can see the tense set to her shoulders, and when Lena turns around to greet her, it’s clear that she’s tired, like she hasn’t slept properly in weeks.

“Supergirl, to what do I owe the visit?”

Kara wants to ask how she’s doing, why she’s still at the office this late, wants to drag her home, cook her a real meal and force her to sleep. But she’s here on official business, not as a friend.

“I’m here to give you a heads up that Cadmus might be planning something.”

Lena tilts her head to the side, eyebrow raised. “Oh really? And what might that be?”

“We don’t know for sure. We just know that someone has been undermining the organization for weeks, making sure members have been arrested. We think Cadmus is going to retaliate soon.”

“I see,” Lena says, but she turns around and walks over to the small bar in her office and pours herself a drink. “And why are you telling me this, Supergirl? Do you think I know what my mother might be up to? That I’m involved somehow?”

When Lena turns around to face her, her gaze is hard and piercing.

“No,” Kara holds up her hands, palms out. “Not at all. I just, I’m worried. They’re dangerous and you’ve been hurt by them before.”

Lena’s features soften. “So have you.”

“I know, but I’m, well, I can take care of myself. I just wanted to tell you to be careful.”

Lena nods, but turns back to her desk. “I’ll take that under advisement. Is that all?”

Kara swallows. “Yes. That’s all.”

“Alright. Thank you for the heads up, Supergirl.”

The visit leaves a bad taste in Kara’s mouth. Something about how closed off Lena seemed doesn’t sit right. Over the next few days, she decides to keep an eye on her, and it’s during one of those unscheduled patrols when she hones in on Lena’s heartbeat. It’s too fast, too full of panic. Kara follows the sound in a flash and finds her in an empty warehouse near the port. Or at least Kara thinks it’s Lena, because the figure in front of her looks nothing like the Lena Luthor she knows. She’s clad black tactical gear, a mask obscuring her face, and she’s currently engaged in honest-to-god hand-to-hand combat with none other than Lillian Luthor.

Kara lands in the warehouse and her arrival throws Lena off. She turns toward the noise and Lillian takes advantage: she grabs a metal pipe from a nearby table and swings it at Lena’s head. The hit sends Lena stumbling backwards, and that’s when Kara puts an end to the scene playing out in front of her. Using her super speed, she incapacitates Lillian and calls Alex for backup.

Then she rushes over to Lena, who has taken off her mask and is hunched over and a little unsteady. Kara holds her up with a firm hand against Lena’s elbow and forearm.

“You. It’s been you all along.”

Lena doesn’t respond, just presses the sleeve of her shirt against her temple to stop the flow of blood from a cut on her head.

“Why?”

Finally, Lena looks up. “Because I was the only one with the inside information to bring them down.”

“You could have come to us. To me. We would have helped.”

But Lena shakes her head and freezes Kara in place with a firm look. “I couldn’t let her hurt you again.”

Kara swallows hard. She can hear the telltale signs of DEO vans approaching. She gives Lena’s arm a quick squeeze.

“Are you okay to get out of here? The cavalry is going to be here any second now. It’s probably better if they don’t find you here.”

Lena draws her eyebrows together in a confused frown, and Kara squeezes her arm one more time.

“You protect me, I protect you. I’ll take care of this,” Kara turns to nod at where Lillian is sitting slumped over in a chair. “No one needs to know it was you. Go and take care of your head, okay?”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Lena nods and scrambles towards the back entrance to the warehouse, out of sight just in time before the first DEO agents come barging in. Kara vows to swing by Lena’s place later with some ice cream and several of her patented Kara Danvers hugs to make sure Lena knows she’s not alone, that she’ll always have her back. Just like Lena always has hers.

[aprettyspy]

For the wonderful @bishybarnaby. Happy Birthday sweetie

Happy Birthday Q

Bond had noticed it as soon as he had returned south from Skyfall. Despite an absolute shed load of work to do as a result of Silva's decimation of their security, Q had taken the time to mark the birthday of one of his minions. There had been cake, singing and the surprise gift of the afternoon off. Each time Bond called to Q Branch, there seemed to be a desk covered in cards, or semi-deflated, shiny helium balloons. Three months after Skyfall, Bond had arrived to return his equipment only to find Q hanging up birthday bunting in preparation for the morning.

He didn't see the fascination with birthdays himself. He had a vague recollection of cake and singing from when he was 7? 8? There had never been a big party- so few other children in the area. At Eton, his birthday had only served to remind him of how alone he was- no big parcels of food and cake for him. As he'd grown older, he had even begun to see his birthday as a steady march towards the inevitable; each one firmly reminding him of the ever shortening odds of him remaining alive.

Clearly, though, his Quartermaster loved them. James imagined a childhood of parties and games, maybe visits to museums and art galleries as he grew up. Definitely a lot of love and warmth. Why else would he insist on making such a fuss of them?

Ten and a half months after he and Q had first met, James had found a small, shiny wrapped parcel in the go-bag he had retrieved from the Aston's boot. Suspicious of an unknown object, he had laid it carefully on the bed, circling it. There were no ticks, it had no smell and wasn't moving or shaking in any way. Gun unholstered, he pulled on the bow, the silver-grey ribbon falling away to reveal a box. Nestled within were a pair of oval cufflinks, platinum and engraved with his initials. He found the note underneath the cushion:

"Happy Birthday, Bond. Do take care of these, they contain a tracker, of course, but also an EMD that will disable all electronic devices within 10 meters, quite the range, if I do say so myself. Regards, Q"

It was only as he shot his cuffs to admire them in place did Bond calculate this was the first birthday gift anyone in MI6 had ever given him and his first since a girlfriend 17 years ago.

***

Bond threw the paper folder at the wall in disgust, the 4 sheets contained within floating gently to the ground. He had reached another dead end. Every single time he thought he had a lead, it just turned out to be a brick wall. The Quartermaster didn't have a birthday. When Q had adopted his new identity, it had not come with such a mundane thing as a birth date - or confirmable age. Such a good job had been done in burying his previous existence that even calling in 3 favours had resulted in drawing a blank. So, he decided to try a different approach.

A few careful questions, a lifetime of reading micro expressions because his life depended on it and some word association meant Bond had narrowed it down to February. He then launched a campaign of attrition. He asked, begged, pleaded, hounded, harassed and even threatened Q to tell him when Q's own birthday was. None of it worked.

Which is why Q now found his office filled with 5 balloon displays, 3 bouquets of flowers, a number of half eaten trays of doughnuts, no less than 12 birthday cards and a pile of unopened gifts. Bond had just treated the previous 2 weeks as if everyday was Q's birthday. Each offering had received the same response; a shake of Q's head and a muttering of, "but it's not my birthday."

February 21st arrived overcast, but a little milder than the previous few days. Bond arrived at Q's office for 9.30 a.m. He handed Q a takeaway cup of Earl Grey and a small, red gift bag. Q placed the tea down carefully and met Bond's hopeful gaze. For the first time, he actually opened his gift - a selection of 3 colognes from his favourite place. Raising his head, he smiled at Bond:

"Thank you, James. It has been a very long time since I marked my birthday."

Bond beamed in delight."So I finally got it right? Happy birthday, Q! May I give you a hug?"

Q nodded and Bond drew him into a warm, relaxing hug. They stayed there for a long moment. Both men knew Q was lying, but they didn't care. From now on, as far as James was concerned, February 21st would always be Q's birthday and he was already planning how to outdo himself next year.

[lamuradex]

40K In 42 Days Update: Week One

@the-wip-project

Started with 20,191. I'm now at 24,331.

So that means I'm 4140 Words in. 10.35%.

I think I might be a little behind a week into the challenge, but I'll catch up. I'm not gonna let myself get too stressed by all this.

For this challenge I'm continuing my latest novel The Madman and The Princess, a comedic crime drama, which features a pair of crooks, Gideon and Madeline, trying to make their way in the world, all the while dealing with bigger criminals who keep trying to cause them trouble.

And, just because I'm bored, I'm going to post the last section I've been working on, where Madeline is part of a heist crew, and she's stuck with the insufferable team hacker while robbing someone's house and disabling the security.

Excerpt below the break

Madeline started looking around the room. A few bookshelves, multiple hard drives, a few processors branded with SuperTech, so they were almost certainly in the right place. No valuables though, which was disappointing.

“So, what I’m doing is, I’m plugging into the system and attacking the Log In Protocols with various programs. One’s that will bypass the password and let us in,” Charles explained.

“Great,” Maddy answered with very little interest.

“I just need to get something into the OS, make it boot up in safe mode, and thus bypass the log in altogether.”

“Grand,” she said with more emphasis.

“And then I’ll be able to-”

“Fantastic!” she interrupted sharply. She was still searching the room by torchlight, but could hear how put out he was. She didn’t care. “Isn’t all the security footage usually stored in a hard drive anyway? Couldn’t we just steal that?”

Charles flapped his lips like she’d just proposed flying out of there. “Are you insane? There could be so many back-ups. And even if not, it’s better to make sure the footage isn’t still on the computer.”

“Then why don’t we just take the whole computer? I’m sure it’s worth something,” she suggested.

“Yes, but I’d love to see you carry it out of here,” Charles shot back.

Maddy glared. “Ever been slapped by a plastic hand, Charles?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like to be?” She brandished her prosthetic.

Charles grimaced, priming some insult. Likely one concerning dexterity. But Maddy didn’t give him the chance.

“There’s a safe over here, by the way.” She shone her torch at it. No picture to hide this one, it was a black rectangle in the wall with a keypad on it.

“Interesting,” Charles sprang out of his chair. “Let’s see what goodies are in here.” He popped on his headset and got Gloria on the line. “Gloria, I need info on a Hazard Safe 4013, serial number 345-” and Maddy stopped listening. She wandered to the computer, the tablet plugged in and doing… something. Then she paused. A metaphorical bulb came on over her head.

Security’s greatest weakness was always human error, or so Gideon had always taught her. You could walk right in to or out of any building with the right uniform and a confident enough attitude. All it took was a lazy guard who didn’t want to check credentials, or someone who could be intimidated out of doing their job.

And this security room was inside someone's house. Surely, if someone was in here, as they already were, then that meant they’d already beaten the security, right? And from what she knew, Efram Malik was in his forties. He was old. The kind of man who may have forgotten his dog and left it to his staff to manage for the weekend. 

She leaned around the monitor and checked the back. And, while not on the monitor itself, there was a little scrap of yellow paper sticking out from under the mouse mat. It was a post-it note. On it was written “Mailk1985SUPERSTAR!” in messy handwriting.

Without checking with Charles, she typed it in and unlocked the computer.

“I’m in,” she said dramatically.

“What!” Charles looked back.

Maddy got up and didn’t care to explain. “You two got that safe open yet?”

“What? No? How did you-”

“Have you tried powder on the keypad to check for fingerprints. That’s worked for me in the past,” she bold facedly lied.

“I’ll�� I’ll get to that computer in a minute. Don’t touch anything else.”

“You sure? I could check the cameras to see where the valuables are?” she suggested.

Charles flapped, stuck between working on the safe and working on the computer.

“Do you want me to work on the safe? You can hack the system or whatever?”

“Um… Yes, that sounds right,” Charles agreed, sounding a little confused at even that decision.

“Then I’ll need your headset, right? Have Gloria walk me through the safe?” She stuck out a hand to accept it.

Charles thought, but clearly couldn’t come up with an argument. He passed over the Bluetooth earpiece and a small bag of tech tools. Maddy clipped on the earpiece.

“…and what do you mean you’re alone with her? Charles? Answer me?” Gloria called.

“Charles can’t come to the phone right now. He wants me to get the safe open while he deals with the cameras and such,” Maddy answered in her best call centre voice.

“What? Why are you on Charles’s phone?”

“I literally just said,” Maddy stated. “Now, how am I getting into this safe. Because I could just take a crowbar to it if it’s easier.”

“No!” Gloria stopped her. “Seriously, Charles wants you to open the safe?”

“He’s very busy,” Maddy brushed her off, temper rising.

“How much do you know about private security?”

“I’m going to say very little.”

“And what about coaxial ports and cables?”

“Even less.”

“And you’re supposed to get a safe open? Oh, honey,” Gloria crooned.

Maddy took a breath, counting to ten in her head. “Look, all you need to do is tell me what bits go where and we can do this. If not, we can wait until Charles is done with the computer. So, what are we doing?”

Gloria sighed. “If I must. Tell me, are there any ports on the front of the safe?”

Maddy looked. “No.”

“No little divots? Little plug sockets? You know what a plug looks like, right?”

Maddy did her best to shoot a scowl down the phone line. “Did you really just ask that?”

“Are there any holes on the front of the safe?” Gloria asked slowly.

“No there are not,” Maddy answered slower. “The front is a clean matt-black with a ten number keypad. There’s a digital display for the numbers but the classic sort like a calculator display. There are no ports of any kind. So, now what?”

Gloria thought a moment. “Can you find any powder in your vicinity? There might still be residue on the buttons.”

Maddy gritted her teeth so hard it hurt.

[strzzeka]

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

New fiction by strzeka. A chance encounter with a one-legged trucker eventually leads to a prize-winning article by a handsome young writer. Who knew that there were so many amputees in the truckin' business? The first tale I have placed in the USA, so apologies for the errors.

legbry.blogspot.com/2024/02/on-road-again.html

Here is a preview.

            – Is there anything you wanna do before we head on out? I’m gonna get us some water and then we can make tracks.

            – I’m fine, thanks.

Travis nodded and strode back to the diner. He walked with a limp but did not necessarily appear to be a one‑legged man. His astonishing boots disguised the rigidity of his artificial ankle. Jared suspected Travis had a boot and shoe fetish which might explain his readiness to wear such extravagant footwear. He reappeared a couple of minutes later carrying flagons of water in each hand. His limp was more severe. Jared realised he did not know how long Travis had been disabled although he could remember the story about an accident with a police car. Travis lifted the water onto the driver’s seat. Jared wanted to lift the flagons and stash them behind their seats but his hooks were incapable. Travis climbed in awkwardly and moved the flagons himself.

            – All set and ready. Put your belt on, Red.

Jared took his hat off. Travis watched Red’s efforts to secure his safety belt. It was sometimes a difficult manoeuvre for full‑bodied men. The buckle clicked home.

            – Well done. Not easy, is it? You gonna wear your hooks?

            – I think so.

            – OK. You wanna take ’em off, tell me and I’ll stop for a minute.

            – Thanks. I’ll be fine.

Travis fired up the rig, checked that the forecourt was clear and eased the truck back onto the highway west. The two men made a professional impression for oncoming traffic. Two upright figures wearing mirrored shades, a haulier and his back‑up or father and son. No‑one would think they were two gay amputees. They relaxed into the rhythm of the road, mostly silent, comfortable in each other’s company.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

The Tories Are Out of Power At Last! Thank Fuck For That!

Good news has been pretty thin on the ground lately. Climate change, the wanton destruction of the arable land we need to survive, slow-motion population collapse and the continuing not-good-enoughness of Doctor Who have all contrived to make it feel like we’re living at the end of the world. We’re not. We’ll come within a hair’s breadth of total systemic failure and then finally think to ourselves “oh yeah! We have technological solutions for all of this shit just gathering dust! Maybe we should implement them” and pull our arses out of the fire with literal seconds to spare, like we always do. Because we’re fucking idiots and it’s amazing we ever got as far as inventing fire. The point is, though, that we could all use a win right now, and my country just got one, in the form of the General Election. That’s right! Yesterday, Britain went to the polls and finally said “Okay, enough of this bullshit!” and voted out the monsters who have been making life progressively worse for everyone for a decade and a half.

For those of you who don’t live in Britain and weren’t paying attention, what I mean is that the Conservative Party got booted out of power and replaced with New Labour (in the person of new Prime Minister Keir Starmer). Now, it’s very hard to get excited about Keir being in charge, because he’s basically an unflavoured block of budget margarine sculpted into a vague man-shape by an unskilled and uncaring wizard. He’s essentially inoffensive in the grand scheme of things. However, he’s also a marked improvement on any Tory and particularly Rishi Sunak, a psychopathic urinary condition in a suit. The whole Conservative Party is a basically just a cavalcade of murderous, unrepentant torturers and serial killers whose policies are geared entirely towards short-term personal profit at the cost of countless human lives. We’re talking about a group of irredeemable maniacs who have spent nearly fifteen years defunding the NHS (the social healthcare system that keeps us all alive), turning away leaky rafts full of desperate asylum seekers (and thereby condemning the, directly, to death), trying to replace the disability benefits on which the most vulnerable depend with fucking vouchers and drafting legislation to let them spy on the bank accounts of people surviving on social securities (while taking the word of multi-billionaires that they don’t owe any tax, honest). The nature of evil is a hotly debated topic among philosophers and psychologists, but nobody who’s lived in Britain for the past few electoral cycles and possesses both a heart and a brain needs to debate it: we’ve fucking lived under it. So yes, I am overjoyed to see the back of the pricks. My hatred of the Conservatives runs deep and I’d cheer for pretty much anyone scoring a victory over those inbred, fatuous, vacuous, toffee-nosed, vile, slithering, subhuman reptiles and the system of callous profiteering they represent. When I heard, this morning, that Britain was finally free of the monsters and the constant threat they posed to the lives of the poor, I felt as though a literal weight had been lifted. I’m not being hyperbolic: I actually felt a physical change, as though some part of me had been under pressure, struggling against the crushing mass of governmental incompetence and malice that hung, eternally, over my head.

Of course, none of this is to say I think Britain is about to magically become a better place. The same people who just voted the Tories out also voted them in in the first, and they’re not giving them the bum’s rush now because they’ve suddenly become better people and realised that electing sociopaths is wrong. They’ve just noticed that their groceries are costing more and drawn the inescapable conclusion that voting for morons with no economic management skills was a mistake. Meanwhile, Keir Starmer’s Labour is not the same animal as Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour. If Labour had been voted into power with Corbyn at its head, we might actually have seen some repairs made to the country I… well, I was about to say ‘country I love’, but ‘country I have to live in and slightly prefer to America on the notional level’. But Keir’s not really in the political game to make the world a better place. I don’t actually know what he wants. Functionally, he’s just a placeholder: the Westminster equivalent of a paper plate with a face drawn on it and a developer’s sticky note saying “ACTUAL PRIME MINISTER GOES HERE”. I’m happy he’s in charge instead of any member of the Conservative party, but not because he’ll make things better. I’m just pleased he won’t make things worse. For the next five years, my country will stay exactly as shit as it already is instead of sliding into greater depths of rudderless villainy. I’m also ecstatic because the evil cunts who have been trying to kill me and the people I care about for a 1.5 decades have just been told, roundly, to fuck off, and because they’re such overprivileged wankers, I have to assume that came as a terrible shock to them. So that’s something to celebrate.

Look, if all this seems a little dour for a ‘celebration’ blog post… it is. The people of Britain were offered something better than the current administration and took it, and that’s a cause for joy. However, the thing they were offered, while infinitely preferable to the Cuntservatives, still wasn’t that great, so our joy has to be tempered a little.

Here’s to at least five years of basically acceptable and mercifully ineffectual government.

[r0ttenhearts]

01 - who is that girl?

[ scaramouche x reader cyberpunk au!]

masterlist

previous - next

“we’re running out of time, grim.”

scaramouche kisses his teeth, glaring at the glowing name of “crossprime”, better known as xiao. taking this job seemed like more of a pain now that the time was cracking down on him. in approximately 5 minutes the alarm system would go off and all of the security would surely be rushing to this rich snob’s hotel room.

it was supposed to be an easy job. disable a few camera’s, short circuit a few guards, take the implant and go. that was until his port jammed when he was trying to unlock the case the implant was in. surely some of the security cameras were up by now seeing as his ware was malfunctioning.

“god damnit.” he seethed, smacking the lid of the case. his painted nails tugged at the cord connecting to the lock from his port, brows furrowed in frustration.

just when he began to surrender in his mind, a loud crash behind him echoed through the empty room. shattered glass hit him as he winced from the impact, a loud crunch snapping his attention back to the now broken window.

a figure stood on the broken glass, their boots crunching as they made their way to him. his eyes widened as the hooded figure crouched by him, taking his hand and the case, quickly snapping his cord back into his port.

“is this the berserk mk4?” an electronic-like voice asked behind a black mask. of course this person had a voice changer on. scaramouche glared into their eyes, nodding slightly, seeing their eyes light up as they tugged scaramouche up from the crouched position they were both in.

“we’re gonna have to get out of here, like, now. looks like your ware is outdated, they’re right outside the door.”

scaramouche opens his mouth for a retort at the state of his wares but a loud boom interrupts him as hata-militia burst into the room, guns ready to fire. he took no time in grabbing your hand, the other holding onto the case, and jumping outside of the broken window.

“hey! what are you—“

“no time to argue, you saved my ass so now i’m saving yours.” scaramouche spat, the hooded figure shaking their head but allowing him to drag them across the windowsill to the roof.

quickly scanning his contacts he calls crossprimer again, his steps thundering on the rooftop of the hotel.

“i hope you’re calling because you finished the job, grim.”

“no time to talk, things went bad, and i mean bad.”

xiao’s holographic eyes narrowed at scaramouche before flickering over to the masked face of the person running beside him. rolling his eyes, he gave scaramouche the location of the car. he knew he had a lot to explain once he got back.

jumping down the side of a shorter building by the hotel, he drags you down with him, heading to a black car that stood parked in an alley. throwing open the door, he shoves you in, tossing you the case as the car speeds off.

you can feel your heart hammering as you clutch the case. this was definitely not how you planned for this to go. you glance at the handsome stranger as he fiddles with his phone, the glowing red dot by his eye reminding you it wasn’t just him there.

you could hear him mumbling to someone on the phone, picking up the names “grim” and “prime.” so grim was this guy’s name huh? it suited him, the frown that didn’t seem to wipe off of his face and the multiple piercings in his ear. he was handsome, if you looked past his shitty wares.

suddenly scaramouche reached over, pulling your mask down. his eyes widening, and he could see the same confusion on his features.

“just who is this girl?” xiao’s voice boomed in scaramouche’s ear. “shut up.” scaramouche hissed as you pulled your mask back up, face flushed in anger and embarrassment.

“what the fuck was that about? you can’t just do that.”

“sorry, had to make sure you weren’t some militech. just who are you, anyway? nobody else was supposed to be there. what group do you belong to?”

scaramouche noticed the way you shrugged off his question, looking to the side as you shook your head. “don’t have one?” he asked quietly. you nodded, not meeting his gaze.

“well, we could use another netrunner. you’re a lot more faster than i am, but that might just be because of your wares..” he mumbled. he saw the way you perked up, sliding your mask off as you faced him.

“really? but why are you doing this for me? we just met.”

“i dunno, you just seem useful, after what happened back there. plus, prime might get off my ass about not bringing in any recruits.”

before you could reply, the doors to the car were opened and the members of coarse chaos were there. a boy with teal colored hair stood in the front, his fitted, sleeveless shirt hugging his muscles and displaying his tattooed arm. a stern glare was on his face as he stepped towards scaramouche, a burgundy haired boy stood behind him, as well as another boy with white hair and a red streak.

“just what the hell happened out there? we lost contact with you and next thing i know, you’re bringing some girl back with you.”

“i can explain, but not here. inside.” scaramouche said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. heizou waltzed up to you, pointing a painted finger at you. “and what’s your name cutie?”

“alter..” you mumbled, a hand on your arm as you looked to the floor. “oh, so you’re still using an alias, i see.” heizou grabs you by your hand, pulling you inside the apartment complex with the other three following behind. the ride up the elevator was awkwardly quiet, your shifting and scaramouche’s typing on his phone was all that was heard.

taglist: @minx4 @danfelions @shishi7436 @cofijelli @sakiimeo

[straightlightyagami]

ok so I tried to write the iso file onto a usb flash drive using balenaetcher and it worked last time (ie the time I realized I couldn't continue because I had no function keys on that computer) but after I powered off that computer to get out from that window, the flash drive no longer responded (as in, I could see it if I wrote "diskutil list" in terminal and that command responded to it being taken out/put in, but I couldn't see it in finder and in the disk utility application it was grey and I couldn't do anything to it (even erase it)). this was the case on all laptops i tried which sucked bc it was a very expensive 128 gb flash drive. so then I found another flash drive and I put a different iso file on it (same using balenaetcher) and it immediately disappeared the same way after that? is that supposed to happen?? and plugging it into the asus tablet (model t100tam. which it turned out to be rather than a real laptop) and powering it on while pressing esc or whatever did absolutely nothing (I did disable secure boot if that matters). so a second flash drive is now completely fucked and useless I guess. does anyone know whats going on i cannot find anything about this ?

[chaletnz]

Eating My Way Through Medellín

My ankle was feeling pretty good today so I went up the hill from the hostel to Hija Mia for a flat white and a slice of French toast. In the cafe there was a girl sitting beside me who struck up conversation with me and we played the “where are you from” game. She was pretty tall, and blonde, so I guessed Dutch as I’d seen and heard so many Dutch people everywhere. She said no but people assume she is Dutch. When she had said more words I immediately heard the French accent so I then guessed French. But it turned out that she was Belgian so I guess I was kind of right with both guesses! She then guessed that I was German with confidence! She was quite strange and difficult to understand so I made sure to dip out quickly while she was in the bathroom. Medellín is much more hilly than Cartagena and with broken and narrow footpaths it was much more difficult to get around in the boot. To my surprise the hardest obstacles to avoid were the bumpy raised tiles to guide the blind. Colombia has them everywhere! Great for the blind but very hard for me. They also have the rigid spineboards everywhere in case someone needs to be evacuated and can’t walk. I guess Colombia really takes care of those with disabilities. I browsed D1 which is kind of like the Colombian version of Aldi (discount grocery) and then I walked to the Poblado metro station in hopes of getting my Civica metro card. There was an open customer service booth and I was able to secure my card loaded with plenty of credit for my 5 days in the city. I then spent an hour or so browsing the Exito Wow (big supermarket) and ended up buying some plantain chips to snack on. The afternoon was for resting my ankle so I was ready to do the walking street food tour this evening. At 6:45pm I arrived to meet the guide, Brayan, and he and I sat chatting until the rest of the tour group showed up - 3 ladies from Curaçao and a couple from New York/Dominican Republic. The girl from the Dominican had about 10 piercings in her face and it looked awful. Brayan introduced the tour and then we headed to our first stop at Arepas Rellenas for the classic Arepa Antioqueña which had beef, pork chicharron, sausage, sweet plantain, beans, avocado, and cheese. We each got a half serving and it was delicious. Our next stop was just down the street at Arepas Las Chachas where we tried the ’sweet’ arepa after our savoury one. This arepa de chocolo is the similar corn patty but topped with a thick slice of cheese and then drizzled with condensed milk to your taste. It was very rich and heavy but delicious. I was glad that we only got a half portion again! We walked these arepas off with our walk to the third stop for a buñuelo at a small cafe. Brayan warned us against the chocolate, detailing a story of a guest wearing all white who chose the chocolate and it exploded all over him. The buñuelo is like a donut with a sweet filling inside. I chose the arequipe which is the Colombian version of dulce de leche caramel. After this we were taken to a large hostel, Masaya, and led up to the rooftop for the “best view of Medellín at night”. We spent about an hour here, I had a spicy margarita and sat down to watch the rest of the group join the salsa class. Our next street food was the heaviest “perrita” or “little bitch” hot dog. It was a bun filled with crunchy chips, fried pork, sausage slices, and sauces. We were too full from the arepas to eat the hot dog in its entirety so we were instructed to use the fork to eat the fillings and toss away the bun. As we ate a police dog went ballistic barking at some random guy walking past - we figured this guy was evil as dogs always know. Our last stop was The Munchies for one more snack - a deep fried oily empanada. I could only manage a few bites before I thought I might actually be sick from overeating. Brayan invited us to join him for another bar but I took the moment to waddle back to the hostel. On the walk back I saw the largest slug I have seen in my life which was a memorable way to end the evening!

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia!

Do you have any advice on how to hook readers? Like how so you decide on what sentence or subject or scene to start with at the beginning of a story that will encourage readers to continue?

I've told multiple different things by people, like to start in the middle of the action or with dialogue, but I'm still not sure and have no idea what I'm doing 😆

Hi anon,

Hilariously I have been told that my beginnings aren't always very good so you should really take this all with a grain of salt, lol. Go beneath the 'read more' if you want to just get some actual practiceable advice that you can start doing immediately to get better at beginnings.

Generally speaking, starting in the middle of the action scene or with dialogue is a distillation of something deeper and simpler:

Most authors start the story too early, because they need more exposition than the reader does, because they're learning the world and the characters and often have to learn it by writing them. This means that by the time they get to the good stuff, in many cases, they are 5-10 chapters in, and you can often safely drop all of those chapters, and other readers would have zero problems understanding the story, because the author has basically told themselves the story of those characters etc. and set up the major action.

This is especially true of authors who are learning to write, and still learning to feel out a story. And anon, you can't always shortcut this even if you do start in the middle of an action scene or in the middle of a dialogue scene. Sometimes you've just got to take it with grace when you hand a manuscript to a beta and they say 'cut the first 10 chapters, it's stronger without them.' I've had to do this to friends, and I've had this done re: my own writing.

The Ice Plague initially started - before I ever put it up - with Olphix going into the Aur forest and setting it on fire. That's a very strong, traumatising, major scene! No one can deny that's not starting with an action scene of great gravity. But it just wasn't the right place to start. I realised something was wrong and took a long hiatus, and then it came to me that it was more important narratively for the reader not to understand where Mosk's grief came from or what had happened to him.

The story had to start with Eran, and it had to start 9 months after that action scene, and if I had started The Ice Plague with my initial idea, I would have had to cut around 15 unnecessary chapters to get to the good bit, lol. (I do actually think The Ice Plague has a strong beginning). Mosk's history had to be mysterious and something that got revealed over time, in the same way that it was revealed over time. And I couldn't learn that until I started writing the story.

Sometimes, anon, you can know all the technical things about why some stories are stronger if they start in an action scene or with dialogue (some are weaker for it), but the only way you can really get through it is via...writing the story.

(Actual practical advice beneath the start plus a whole bunch of opening sentences).

Re: A hooky start, for myself, I want to start with an interesting first sentence. Something that interests me, lol, but something that I think would be interesting if someone else read it too.

I actually think the opening sentence of Stuck on the Puzzle is terrible, lmao. But I think the opening chapter is great. Anyway, here's a list of some of my opening sentences and you can decide or think about what you like about them, what you don't like, and if any of them prompts you to read further. Think about why, as well. What was it? What bit did you want to know more about:

Cateline described Grimglass as the ‘ass end of Corambis,’ and certainly while the heavy clouds hung over the sea like a pall, I could see what she meant.

Connor stared intently at the computer as it booted up, looked around the otherwise dark room, and then up to the security cameras he'd disabled. (This is not a very strong opening sentence, I think the whole paragraph is better lol).

Alex liked that they were both, in a way, failures.

In high school, Alex used to imagine forcing Sebastian to give him blowjobs. 

Red galaxies fired beneath Efnisien’s eyelids. (This one is also stronger in the whole paragraph imho).

The An-Fnwy estate was just as grand and imposing as Augus Each Uisge had imagined when he was an underfae teenager, living in a lake nearby.

When the Oak King proclaimed the new fae era, the ‘Season of Turning,’ we all assumed it would be a time of positive change, of growth. (Blah, the ORIGINAL first sentence was from the start of the next chapter).

Augus Each Uisge, predatory waterhorse, Unseelie fae, was bored.

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his ceremonial soldier’s uniform.

The magic around Eran’s wrist throbbed, the beetle-black ink of the months-old tattoo sinking deeper into his flesh.

Gwyn stood, embarrassed, in his wrestling gear.

Efnisien had forty four books in his plain grey melamine bookshelf.

The sun was bright red on the horizon, looking more like a bomb, the smell of smoke acrid in the back of Faber’s nose.

‘I hear they want to promote you to nursery manager,’ a voice said smoothly. ‘What a coup indeed.’

Almost eight months had passed, the next time Gwyn saw Augus.

-

Generally speaking I like to establish mood quickly, particularly embarrassment, discomfort, boredom, or the kind of emotion that you want to see resolved. These folks all have big and small problems they need fixing, and with very few exceptions, I want people to know that immediately, so that they'll...ideally stick around and watch the problems get fixed (or get worse lol). I also start strongly with character, rather than just...detached setting description.

That works for me, it might be different for you! Go find all your favourite books and read their opening sentences and paragraphs, do some research anon. Stop listening to friends (and ChatGPT written articles on how to write because there's so many now x.x) who say 'start in dialogue' or 'start in action' and do the research that teaches you why people say stuff like this and why it's also not always right. Don't even listen to me - I don't always write strong beginnings and I'm very open about that - go get 10 books, 20 books, 50 books, and write down their first sentences or paragraphs in a word document or in Google Docs and study them.

Which ones do you love? Which do you find boring? Which do you remember thinking 'ehhh maybe it gets better.' Notice and actively look for the things that hook you and the things that don't. How many start with dialogue? Or action? How many start with emotion, or description? How many are starting with setting, character, something else?

Try practicing writing sentences like this, or imagining openings like this for your own works. Learn by doing. How would you change the openings by genre? How would you change the voice by character? Alex's opening sentences are very strongly in his voice. Meanwhile Mosk's voice in Smoke in Autumn is non-existent, we literally start with Augus' dialogue dominating and intruding upon his mind and thoughts.

And then realise sometimes you still have to write 10 chapters that you might need to cut (hey bonus content that readers will want to devour one day! Make sure you save it :D ), to find the right place to start your story. It sucks, but it happens. I've been through this with Mallory & Mount and only now after like over a year have I figured out exactly where I have to start that damned story, and I finally have my opening sentence, which is:

The guard looked at Lewis Mount like the murderer he was.

And I love that opening sentence :D I'm biased, but I think it's very hooky.

Writing beginnings and endings is a craft, but you'll learn with practice! And you'll learn a lot via research. Thankfully, you probably like reading, which means you can start researching literally right now.

The best way to learn what you're doing is to learn from the people who have already done it successfully. This is sometimes famous writers, but just as often it's looking at what your favourite writers are doing. Chances are you maybe want to write a little bit like them, so go study their opening sentences! Maybe they don't have strengths in that, but I bet some of them do.

And from there you can study opening paragraphs, opening chapters. You can feel out the ones you wanted to skip, the ones you'd read again and again, the ones you love, the ones you didn't feel anything over. :D

Anyway I think this is probably a pretty good place to start! The folks giving you advice have the right idea, it's just good to understand why it's the right idea. The best way to get to that is to just...research openings of books for yourself and decide what you like, what you'd like to write like, and then trying it out for yourself :D

[solemn-siren]

Deception - villain!Huntedskelly drabble

I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what possessed me to write this.

I guess I just felt like it?

I also decided to write a more fight oriented story to practice for upcoming stuff and since I recently watched the bad guys, I decided to go for a spy AU to not only balance out Siren’s powers but because.. why not.

“The golden dolphin is right here in this room. Do you copy, Agent Amulet?”

“Copy.” Was my answer as I descended into the dark room. Agent Viper had already disabled the traps that were placed in the room, and hacked the security system down. Even if by a miracle one was working, they would only see the shadows of a humanoid shape with two pairs of cat ears on their head, descending down into the hall that had our target.

“And how is the distraction going, Agent King?” Nephya, our digital assistant and our leader, asked, her soft calm voice dancing through my ear via an earpiece. I’ve known both Agent Viper and Agent Storm even before the whole spy mission thing, and we made one epic trio.

Agent Viper, or Kenpo, was our hacker. He was our safety net, although a kind of safety net you throw first. He made sure all our plan went smoothly, by shutting down camera after camera, altering data, and being our eyes. There was nothing that could hide from him and his snake like eyes.

Then there was Agent King, or Storm, who was not only our charisma master, but for missions where distraction isn’t needed, he was my partner in crime, and trust was placed in us. He could pull off various disguises, stay undetected and when the stakes are high, mentally mess with the mind to keep them off my trail. His purple gaze was calming to the ally, but haunting to the villain.

And then there was me. The action lady, the daredevil, Agent Amulet. But all I’m doing is the fancy, action focused stuff in an environment altered to the best condition in the background by Viper and King. They’re the ones who deserve the recognition, I’m the person they see when the golden dolphin is stolen.

“Oh wonderful.” Storm answered as I landed inside the room, pulling down the purple tinted goggles over my eyes. With a single button press on the side, the purple gradually transitioned to a lime green, and the room became clear as day.

In front of my eyes, meters away on a pedestal, stood the golden dolphin, a shimmering gold statue in the shape of a dolphin that was famous for being the top target of criminals and spies alike, every one failing to steal the valuable treasure. We were going to be the first to successfully steal it, and we would be famous for it.

“Oh imagine the riches when we sell it to the black market!” Nephya beamed as I silently dashed through the trap less room to the dolphin. Picking it up, it felt like a dream come true. Immediately I smuggled it inside a bag that was slung around my shoulders, and I celebrated in silence.

“Boys, we did it.” I whispered, resting my hands on the pedestal. “Viper, how’s escape looking?”

“All clear.” Kenpo answered, and Siren could faintly hear the clatter of a keyboard behind his excited voice. “Stick to the plan and you’re good to go. We’re gonna be rich in no time-“

There was an explosion ringing through our ears. I turned around, where there was a cloud of dust and debris from the explosion falling down in the other end of the hall.

“Viper, we’re not alone.” I told Kenpo, flicking my wrist to bring out a sword. In the darkness of the shadows, the blade glimmered in a faint purple, with the handles shining brighter than the golden dolphin. “Specifically, I’m not,”

From the dust, our unwanted visitor emerged. They were tall, taller than Storm towering over the much shorter me even from a distance. They wore an all black jacket with a hint of blue hidden in the shadows, with steel toed boots and what looked like a sword on their back. Their face was concealed by a hood, but when they pulled it back I immediately recognized who it was,

“Huntedskelly?” I gasped, lowering the sword down just a little.

“Oh it’s you, Siren.” Hunted growled, spinning a knife in his hands. His Storm grey eyes stared back at me, piercing a bolt of lightning through anyone that looked directly at him. The weight of the golden dolphin didn’t bother me, I was more worried about what he was doing here. “A nice surprise to see you here. I think you have what I want. The golden dolphin.”

“Amulet? What’s going on?” Kenpo asked as Hunted drew his dark sword. I was still trying to process what was going so answering Kenpo was the least of my worries.

Hunted cackled in the dark of the room, his insane face illuminated by the glow of his sword. His eyes shined silver, showing signs that he was crazy for violence. With the glowing sword in hand he charged forward, his cackling laughter echoing in the hallway.

“Amulet?” Storm asked as I dashed away from Hunted’s sword as it was brought down, the point of impact unleashing a spark of cyan that lit up the dark room. “What’s going on? Who’s attacking? Do you need assistance?”

“It’s Hunted!” I answered in panic as Hunted pulled out his sword from the ground, glaring back at me. My sword was still in my hands, and as he charged forward to strike again, I blocked the strike with my sword, a spark of blue and purple clashing in the night. I dashed backwards, pulling back a hidden mechanism on my right glove, revealing a hidden hand crossbow in enchanting blacks and purples.

”Agent Amulet, I’m sending King to you as backup.” Nephya commanded as I fired several shots from the crossbow. “Viper, continue monitoring the guards. We may need to escape.”

Kenpo didn’t answer. Hunted dodged majority of the shots but one of them landed dead center on his arm, forcing him to drop the sword. Taking the chance I lunged forward, tipping my balance off enough to swing under his arm to grab the still ignited sword. Before I could fully grab the sword, Hunted suddenly grabbed the ends of my hood, throwing me to the side.

“Backup would be appreciated.” Was all I could manage to say, and I heard Storm make a sound of reassurance. Before I could stand up a hand slammed me back into the wall, holding me there. A quiet hum of a laser shut me up, as Hunted’s eyes pierced through the veil of darkness.

“What do you want the dolphin for anyways? Profit?” I asked, flicking the glove again, revealing a set of crystalline knives embedded into the scales. The shining pointed ends stood inches away from Hunted’s neck, and I was ready to strike whenever.

Hunted smiled, drawing the sword closer. “What do you think I want it for? Fame? Hah that’s stupid.” He answered, tightening his grip on his sword. “There’s something mystical about it, and it’s not just some gold dolphin. There is power inside it. Now where have you hid it-“

He was interrupted by a hidden force tackling into him, knocking him into the ground. A second punch by a clocked figure sent a sharp bolt of lightning that shocked him, sending his screams across the room.

The cloaked figure took off his hood, revealing a set of familiar calming eyes and silver grey hair with a small braid at the end.

Storm.

“Can’t believe Hunted would just attack you like that…” He muttered as he helped me back up. I nodded in agreement. “Come on let’s get out of he-“

“Not so fast.”

Hunted, using every last of his strength to stand up, glared at us, his sword in his hands. Storm pulled out a trident, pointing it at his brother.

“We can end this peacefully.” He growled as he circled Hunted like a lion and a cheetah. “We can leave in silence, because I’m not going to hurt any of my brothers.”

“Well I’m not going to back down without the dolphin.” Hunted answered, staring back at his own brother. “I’m not going back, until the world is mine.”

There was a second of silence, before the brothers charged at each other and began the never ending fight of death, while I just stood there doing nothing. The bright blue of Hunted’s sword and the azure cyan of Storm’s trident clashed in the darkness, as I only watched from the distance.

During the fight I finally noticed why Hunted was so quick to attack, and why he raised his sword against his own family. In the silver pool of his eye, there was a glint of red.

There was something altering him.

Hunted slashed his sword, leaving a long scar across Storm’s eye as he screamed in pain. The room was illuminated in a bright red, and I tapped a single finger on the earpiece to connect to Kenpo. “Viper, don’t tell me this is-“

“A real alarm? Yup.” Kenpo answered, as Storm scrambled away from Hunted, covering his injured eye with his hand. Grabbing his free arm, I hit another button on my gloves, revealing a different hand crossbow that fired a grappling hook that pierced the ceiling, hooking onto whatever random pipe was there. Another button press and the grappling hook did its marvels, and we were on our way out.

Hunted’s red eye was clearly visible, as he hissed at the sight of our escape. Something told me this wouldn’t be the last time we’ll be seeing him.