#cloud based ordering solution

[foloosi]

Best Cafeteria/Restaurant Point of Sale software in UAE 2024

POS providers offer various features and functionalities to meet the diverse needs of cafes and restaurants in the UAE, helping businesses streamline operations, improve service efficiency, and enhance customer experiences.

What is Restaurant/Cafeteria POS Software?

Restaurant and cafeteria POS (Point of Sale) software is a vital tool that streamlines the operations of hospitality service establishments. This specialized software facilitates the efficient management of transactions, inventory, and customer interactions, transforming how restaurants and cafeterias handle their day-to-day activities.

Read more..

[reasonsforhope]

"As a Deaf man, Adam Munder has long been advocating for communication rights in a world that chiefly caters to hearing people. 

The Intel software engineer and his wife — who is also Deaf — are often unable to use American Sign Language in daily interactions, instead defaulting to texting on a smartphone or passing a pen and paper back and forth with service workers, teachers, and lawyers. 

It can make simple tasks, like ordering coffee, more complicated than it should be. 

But there are life events that hold greater weight than a cup of coffee. 

Recently, Munder and his wife took their daughter in for a doctor’s appointment — and no interpreter was available. 

To their surprise, their doctor said: “It’s alright, we’ll just have your daughter interpret for you!” ...

That day at the doctor’s office came at the heels of a thousand frustrating interactions and miscommunications — and Munder is not isolated in his experience.

“Where I live in Arizona, there are more than 1.1 million individuals with a hearing loss,” Munder said, “and only about 400 licensed interpreters.”

In addition to being hard to find, interpreters are expensive. And texting and writing aren’t always practical options — they leave out the emotion, detail, and nuance of a spoken conversation. 

ASL is a rich, complex language with its own grammar and culture; a subtle change in speed, direction, facial expression, or gesture can completely change the meaning and tone of a sign. 

“Writing back and forth on paper and pen or using a smartphone to text is not equivalent to American Sign Language,” Munder emphasized. “The details and nuance that make us human are lost in both our personal and business conversations.”

His solution? An AI-powered platform called Omnibridge. 

“My team has established this bridge between the Deaf world and the hearing world, bringing these worlds together without forcing one to adapt to the other,” Munder said. 

Trained on thousands of signs, Omnibridge is engineered to transcribe spoken English and interpret sign language on screen in seconds...

“Our dream is that the technology will be available to everyone, everywhere,” Munder said. “I feel like three to four years from now, we're going to have an app on a phone. Our team has already started working on a cloud-based product, and we're hoping that will be an easy switch from cloud to mobile to an app.” ...

At its heart, Omnibridge is a testament to the positive capabilities of artificial intelligence. "

-via GoodGoodGood, October 25, 2024. More info below the cut!

To test an alpha version of his invention, Munder welcomed TED associate Hasiba Haq on stage. 

“I want to show you how this could have changed my interaction at the doctor appointment, had this been available,” Munder said. 

He went on to explain that the software would generate a bi-directional conversation, in which Munder’s signs would appear as blue text and spoken word would appear in gray. 

At first, there was a brief hiccup on the TED stage. Haq, who was standing in as the doctor’s office receptionist, spoke — but the screen remained blank. 

“I don’t believe this; this is the first time that AI has ever failed,” Munder joked, getting a big laugh from the crowd. “Thanks for your patience.”

After a quick reboot, they rolled with the punches and tried again.

Haq asked: “Hi, how’s it going?” 

Her words popped up in blue. 

Munder signed in reply: “I am good.” 

His response popped up in gray. 

Back and forth, they recreated the scene from the doctor’s office. But this time Munder retained his autonomy, and no one suggested a 7-year-old should play interpreter. 

Munder’s TED debut and tech demonstration didn’t happen overnight — the engineer has been working on Omnibridge for over a decade. 

“It takes a lot to build something like this,” Munder told Good Good Good in an exclusive interview, communicating with our team in ASL. “It couldn't just be one or two people. It takes a large team, a lot of resources, millions and millions of dollars to work on a project like this.” 

After five years of pitching and research, Intel handpicked Munder’s team for a specialty training program. It was through that backing that Omnibridge began to truly take shape...

“Our dream is that the technology will be available to everyone, everywhere,” Munder said. “I feel like three to four years from now, we're going to have an app on a phone. Our team has already started working on a cloud-based product, and we're hoping that will be an easy switch from cloud to mobile to an app.” 

In order to achieve that dream — of transposing their technology to a smartphone — Munder and his team have to play a bit of a waiting game. Today, their platform necessitates building the technology on a PC, with an AI engine. 

“A lot of things don't have those AI PC types of chips,” Munder explained. “But as the technology evolves, we expect that smartphones will start to include AI engines. They'll start to include the capability in processing within smartphones. It will take time for the technology to catch up to it, and it probably won't need the power that we're requiring right now on a PC.” 

At its heart, Omnibridge is a testament to the positive capabilities of artificial intelligence. 

But it is more than a transcription service — it allows people to have face-to-face conversations with each other. There’s a world of difference between passing around a phone or pen and paper and looking someone in the eyes when you speak to them. 

It also allows Deaf people to speak ASL directly, without doing the mental gymnastics of translating their words into English.

“For me, English is my second language,” Munder told Good Good Good. “So when I write in English, I have to think: How am I going to adjust the words? How am I going to write it just right so somebody can understand me? It takes me some time and effort, and it's hard for me to express myself actually in doing that. This technology allows someone to be able to express themselves in their native language.” 

Ultimately, Munder said that Omnibridge is about “bringing humanity back” to these conversations. 

“We’re changing the world through the power of AI, not just revolutionizing technology, but enhancing that human connection,” Munder said at the end of his TED Talk. 

“It’s two languages,” he concluded, “signed and spoken, in one seamless conversation.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, October 25, 2024

[dee-dunmeshi]

Careful

pairing: laios x kabru words: ~1k warnings: this is post canon! otherwise, none :)

summary: when kabru finds that his walls have been dismantled brick by brick, he does the only thing he can do- freak out, then put them back up and stop thinking about it. he doesn't mean to hurt laios in the process. (based on this post i made)

more: this is definitely gonna be multiple parts. also, tell me if u can tell i haven't finished dunmeshi and i've just immersed myself in spoilers

Laios sat almost motionless at the head of the meeting hall table, chin in his hand, head tilting to one side. To his right sat an abandoned chair previously occupied by Kabru, who was now pacing behind the blonde's throne (it was a somewhat smaller one used only in the meeting room. Laios liked it way better than the huge one in the actual throne room).

He couldn’t see Kabru, but he could imagine the others' expression- slightly furrowed brows and his cheek between his teeth as he let the concerns he’d had from the meeting earlier finally show, free from the unwanted gazes of guests. It’d been months before Kabru had let him see the actively calculating side of him- Laios thought it was… something. He wasn’t sure, but it did make the corners of his mouth turn up, just a little.

The king glanced out the window, shocked to see it was just past sunset. There were only stray strokes of orange on the clouds now, the moon well up into the sky. The kingdom demanded so much of him, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep track of time these days- such was the life of a king, he supposed.

“Kabru,” he started, reaching his arms over his head in a long overdue stretch. “We should call it a night, right?”

Kabru’s pacing stopped and he appeared by Laios’ side, one arm resting atop the throne as he leaned down slightly. “Tired?” He asked, his tone suggesting that he already agreed and didn’t really need to hear Laios’ reasoning.

“Yes,” Laios hummed, “and hungry.” He looked up at Kabru, a big smile on his face, brown eyes lighting up at the thought of dinner. “You won’t believe what we’re having- not monster, unfortunately.”

Kabru took Laios’ tease with a scoff and an eyeroll, the sting of which was greatly diminished by the grin on his face. He listened as Laios went on about dinner, what the chef was making, how Senshi had actually taught them this on his last visit to the kingdom. Laios wasn’t quite as enamored by food and cooking in general as Senshi, but since the dungeon, he’d taken more of an interest in what normal foods might taste most like dungeon food.

Kabru watched until the rant seemed to no longer be for him, Laios staring past him in thought as he went on about flavor profiles. Kabru let his mind drift back to things he needed to get done, half listening in case he was asked anything. There were orders to be made before bed, holidays to plan for, letters to answer- his eyes raked over Laios’ face as he thought, noting the slight exhaustion on display under his eyes and deciding to let him sleep in the next day, before landing on his jaw. 

Laios had grown a bit of stubble, he noticed, too distracted by being king to shave. It made sense that it had crept up on him- the blonde didn’t grow facial hair very fast, so he never really shaved anyway.

Kabru lifted his palm to Laios’ jaw, thumb rubbing along the coarse hair on his cheek. “You haven’t shaved,” he said, like he was commenting on the weather or pointing out a new hairstyle. Not like he was gently caressing his king's cheek.

Oh.

Before Kabru could decide the only solution was to blow up both himself and Laios, before he could even jerk his hand away, Laios was completely resting his head on Kabru's hand. One eye closed in thought as his cheek squished, he looked up at Kabru with those bright, wide brown eyes. “Y’think?” Laios asked, as if his royal advisor did this all the time. As if Kabru ever touched his face at all, let alone so tenderly. “You don’t like it?”

Kabru thought about how nice it’d be to die on the spot. He couldn’t really figure out what he should say next. Letting go might be awkward, but staying in this position would surely have weird implications, right? How would he get himself out of this? How did he even let himself get here?

“No,” he heard himself saying, lips moving seemingly on their own accord. “I think it looks good, honestly.”

And he really was being honest. Sure, telling Laios it looked bad would’ve been a fruitless lie- shaving wouldn’t make him a better ruler, and having facial hair might actually help his public image and make him look a little more mature. Kabru took issue, though, with how easily the truth had come out with no thought, no calculation. What was wrong with him?

Laios grinned at him so, so earnestly, and Kabru felt his stomach drop.

All too soon, the king rose from his throne, leaving Kabru's hand to fall to his side, abandoned.

“Alright, I won’t shave it, then,” Laios said definitively, already sweeping out of the room. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

Kabru’s legs marched him out of the meeting room, trailing just behind Laios. His hand felt cold. He clenched his fist, thought about how weird that must look to any castle staff passing by, then released. Laios was still talking up ahead. With a deep, careful inhale, Kabru decided that whatever it was he was going through, it could wait until after dinner. He just had to be more careful until he could figure it out. He exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.

Finally, he fell into step with Laios, pasting a smile on his face and tucking his arms behind his back. He spent dinner with his elbows close to his side so Laios wouldn’t accidentally bump into him, as he often did. He bid his friend a quick goodnight as soon as he was done with his excuse of a meal- for some reason, he didn’t have much of an appetite.

'Careful', he thought as his legs propelled him to his room, worrying the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He just had to be careful.

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ sᴛᴀʀ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ғʀᴏᴍ @ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛʜɪɴɢs!

[ddarker-dreams]

Loves Me, Loves Me Not.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, and implied stalking. Word count: 3.5k.

There are only so many times you can discreetly check your phone without worry presenting itself on your face.

You’d like to consider yourself a reasonable person, yet it’s natural for the mind to wander in circumstances such as this. The waitress went from stopping by in intervals of five minutes to ten, then twenty, and now, you haven’t seen her in half an hour. Your second cocktail sits in a watered-down version of itself, the ice having melted what feels like ages ago. The clinking of silverware, murmurs of conversations from other patrons, and live jazz performance fade into meaningless stimulation your brain opts out of processing. Perhaps the relaxed ambiance could serve as a welcome distraction if you were able to focus. You can’t, however, not when you haven’t heard from him in hours.

You think to take another sip of your drink but decide against it. You reapplied your lipstick not long ago, you’d rather not necessitate the action’s repeat so soon.

Your waitress walks by, a bill in hand for another table. She momentarily makes eye contact and then offers an apologetic smile upon seeing your situation has yet to change. Your phone abruptly buzzing distracts you from this, momentarily lifting your spirits. Hurriedly, you pull it back out, your eyes scanning the screen for the one name that’d make all your concerns disappear. This hope is short-lived. The notification turns out to be some breaking news that you don’t bother reading past the first few words. Sighing, you unlock your phone, going straight to messages for the umpteenth time, as if that’d magically make an explanation appear at your fingertips.

Reopening your text history with your fiancé unsurprisingly reveals nothing new. It’s only your unread texts on the right side of the screen, inquiring over his whereabouts, jokingly at first. Then not so jokingly as the night progressed. The logical side of your psyche offers plausible and soothing solutions. He could be held up late at work, his phone could’ve died; there are so many perfectly rational explanations. His job is an unusual one that demands more than a standard nine to five. You know that well by now. Still, he’d try and make it a point to tell you when to expect delays. No such forewarning was made the last time you saw him.

It’s for this reason that a dark premonition hangs over your head, like rain clouds threatening to burst.

The question pressing on you the most currently is what to do next.

Should you order an Uber and head back to your apartment, ditching this dinner reserved weeks in advance? Or should you keep waiting just in case he’s due to show up any second, apologies likely on his lips? If you go with the latter suggestion, then comes the problem of deciding how much longer to wait. You’ve already invested a decent chunk of the evening doing just that. Since this restaurant requires a formal dress code, you’re not in the most comfortable clothes either. Lounging on your couch in comfortable pajamas is sounding more and more inviting by the second. Knowing his temperament, you doubt he’d hold it against you. He’s been sweet on you as far back as you can remember.

With this in mind, you grab your purse. You’ll wave down your waiter the next time she happens by. In the meantime, you peruse your phone, trying to decide if you’re feeling a horror or romance movie tonight. You’re so preoccupied with this issue that you fail to notice your bubbly waiter’s return until she clears her throat, earning your attention.

You feel as if your heart and stomach are plummeting into hell upon seeing the figure that stands so nonchalantly by her side.

The devil himself would’ve been a more welcome sight.

“Look who finally showed up,” the waitress beams, likely in an attempt to ease what she mistakenly believes to be relationship-based tension in the air. She clears her throat and clasps her hands together at the miserable silence that follows. “Well, I’ll be right back after you familiarize yourself with the menu, sir.”

The aforementioned sir shakes his head. “There’s no need for that. I’ll go ahead and order for us both. You’ve been made to wait long enough… Am I right, [First]?”

You have so much to say yet your tongue is like dead weight in your mouth.

He straightens the lapels of his jacket, sits in the booth across from you, and relays an order in that calm and self-assured tone of his. He sticks true to his word; the appetizer, entrée, and accompanying drink he orders are all your favorites. He even makes a point of asking them to leave off that one ingredient you could never stand. Once that is over and done with, the waitress knows better than to linger and you’re left on your lonesome.

Knowing gray eyes shift from where she once stood to your flabbergasted form.

“Why,” your voice comes out like a dry croak, “Why are you here, Chrollo?”

He leans forward, folds his hands together, and rests his chin atop them. “My heart aches at the sight of a lovely lady such as yourself getting stood up on a date. I thought my company might do you some good.”

Indignant, you rise to your feet. Your legs feel a touch wobbly beneath your weight, a consequence of the alcohol intake and dip in blood pressure from standing so quickly. Tears sting your lower lash line. You open and close your lips, unsure if you want to shriek, throw insults, or break down entirely at this invasive species’ insistence on never leaving you alone. Chrollo takes in every depraved emotion that passes over your countenance with greedy delight befitting a thief such as himself, malignity at its finest. From what you can recall, he’d go to lengths to hide the extent of his enjoyment from your distress, but he must not see the point in bothering now. If anything, he probably wants you to know how pleased this is making him.

As covertly as you can, you eye the exit standing just a few feet away. You must not have disguised your intent well enough, for he sighs in something akin to disappointment.

“Normally, I wouldn’t mind playing such games with you,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to you, “But tonight, consider my patience tried.”

You never make it further than one step toward freedom.

“Sit.”

At this single utterance, your legs buckle at the knee.

The world around you is a blur as you’re made to sit back down, as if a wave had crashed over your head and forced you downward. Your body’s betrayal of your own wishes momentarily stupefies you. It isn’t until you spot that damnable grimoire of his out and at the ready that you’re able to put the pieces together. The subsequent picture you form is an alarming one. This is a display, no, a flaunting of total power. The wielding of forces you could barely fathom, much less fight against. Chrollo makes a point of keeping Bandit’s Secret out, his usual art of subtly tossed by the wayside.

“I see you’re slowly coming to terms with reality,” Chrollo begins. His lips curve into a smile that serves to unnerve you further. “That’s good. While I’m sure you have plenty to say, do be a dear and keep your mouth shut for just a while longer. Now then. I’ll present you with two options. We can either remain seated and speak things over like adults, or…”

Sweat trickles down your brow at the taunting gleam in his eyes.

“I can continue manipulating your body to my heart’s content. You’ll be conscious throughout whatever it is I see fit to make you do, of course. I’ll even allow you to maintain control over your eyes. I’ll warn you, though; I’m not in a very gracious mood tonight. Choose carefully.”

Your lips go from feeling as if they’ve been sewn shut to abiding by your command once again. Other than that, you cannot move a muscle. You wonder if your body’s involuntary functions are at his mercy as well. For while your heart is pounding away, you know how much faster the organ is capable of going when in Chrollo’s presence. He must want you somewhat legible if he’s willing to bother with such a small detail.

In theory, you could scream and beg for help. His hold on your vocal cords has loosened up enough for you to determine this.

However, when you consider the laughter of a table by your side, you hesitate. There are families celebrating birthdays. An elderly couple in the booth behind you who just ordered dessert. Best friends enjoying workplace gossip by the bar. In acting out so brazenly, you’d be condemning all of them to death. If not a fate worse than that. To Chrollo, the act of killing was a means to an end. He regarded it in the same way one would a chore, such as taking out the trash. It didn’t matter if it was one or one hundred lives.

He’d drown this entire city in its own blood if that’s what it took to get to you.

Curious at your prolonged silence, he tilts his head. “Well?”

He really meant what he said about his patience being tried.

“Okay,” is the single word you manage to squeeze out.

He eyes you for another moment, likely searching for any potential deception on your part. When he finds nothing dissatisfactory, he closes his book.

“Smart girl,” he croons. His praise does little besides make you want to hurl.

You greedily take in deep breaths upon regaining your autonomy. Your physiological state has gone from being forcibly subdued to pure, unadulterated chaos in a matter of seconds, matching your disoriented mind. Shamefully, you almost miss the calm being under his thrall offered. Chrollo affords you no further time to collect yourself, getting right down to business.

“Show it to me.”

You gnaw on your trembling lower lip, exasperation lacing your voice. “Show you what?”

He raises his left hand into the air. You blink, narrowing your eyes in confusion, before chilling realization pricks at you like needles stabbing your entire body. Compelled by your own self-preservation, you raise your left arm from your side and hover it over the table. The diamond atop the gold band on your ring finger glistens beneath the restaurant’s moody lighting. Chrollo’s faux smile dissipates the second he spots the ring, regarding it with what you can only describe as mild revulsion. You don’t miss the way his eye twitches. Swallowing thickly, you dread to discover what might come next.

Cold hands envelop your own as he forces your near-constant trembling to still, allowing him a better look. His physiognomy is entirely blank; he’s a statue whose facial features have yet to be carved into place. While navigating whatever tempest is brewing in his mind, he begins to apply pressure to your hand, causing you to visibly wince and let out a pained yelp.

This seems to bring him back to reality. His bruising grip relaxes, yet he refuses to let you go. He rubs the pad of his thumb over your aching skin that’ll inevitably bruise from his force, in what must be a quiet apology. What you witnessed just now was the closest you’ve ever seen to his otherwise impeccable composure slipping. He regains control as fast as he lost it, not a single vestige of the quiet intensity he boasted seconds prior remaining.

Chrollo slides the ring off your finger without asking for your consent. The loss shatters something deep and personal inside you. He’s doing it again — demolishing what little you’ve painstakingly built for yourself — uncaring of how it hurts you so long as he’s gratified in the end. Your vision goes blurry while he lifts the pilfered ring up to the light, inspecting it closer. Tears mix with your mascara and drip down your cheek, then your chin, and finally, fall onto your lap.

He lets out a breathless chortle. “A cubic zirconia, hm?”

Apparently pleased with this discovery, he loses interest in studying the object any longer. He takes it into the palm of his hand and crushes it before you can think to protest. In a futile display, you reach out to take it back, your eyes wide and desperate. He frowns at the value you’ve assigned to what must be an insult in his eyes. You’re prepared to claw at his hand if that’s what it takes for him to open it, but he acquiesces to your unspoken demand. Stunned, you watch with anguish as a cascade of powder falls into a pitiful pile on the table. He uses your frozen state to his advantage and wipes it aside, as if he were haphazardly dusting off an old book. What little remains of your engagement ring is lost forever.

Your teeth chatter from the rage boiling your blood and you swear you see red. “I hate you, did you know that? Huh? Since you’re so fucking smart, you should be able to tell that much, shouldn’t you? Or are you too demented to realize it?” 

“That’s not very mature of you, [First].”

“You—!” Taking a labored breath, you force your volume down, your body feeling as if it’s burdened with a fever. It’s hot. Everything is so hot. You think you might melt from the inside out.

Just before you can continue tearing into him, your phone vibrates. It isn’t until the third persistent buzz that you realize it must be a phone call. Knowing how inhumanly sharp Chrollo’s ears must be, you think to ignore it, not wanting to risk making a move that’d condemn everyone around you to death. You knew what lines could be crossed and which couldn't. His eyes meet yours, the skin beneath them wrinkling. You recognize the emotion that communicates without issue. Amusement.

“Go on,” he urges, a playful lilt present in his tone. “Answer it.”

When you look down, you see your fiancé’s name sprawled across the screen. Edgar.

You don’t want to know, you don’t want to know, you don’t want to know—

But you have to find out. If not for yourself, then for him.

You press the green accept button and hold your phone to your ear, your other hand going to cover your mouth so that you don’t scream.

At first, nothing but agonizing silence awaits you. You struggle to breathe. There’s a slight commotion on the other end, a shuffling of fabric. Had it been left at that, your mind may have been able to write it off. It’s commendable what excuses the human brain arrives at to explain away what phenomena it doesn’t want to acknowledge. That’s when you hear raspy breathing coming out in an unsteady rhythm. It’s a low, barely perceptible sound, so quiet that it’s a miracle you even picked up on it in the first place. A groan comes next. There’s no doubt in your mind who this voice belongs to and what this must mean.

Chrollo rests his cheek on his fist while observing you through dark eyelashes, content and relaxed. He’s studying you. Drinking up every little twitch and shiver as if it were a fine wine. There’s a glaze over his eyes, twisted fondness mixing with sadistic pleasure. The smile on his full lips is genuine. He looks like he wants to ravish you right then and there. You wish you were stronger, capable of hiding your heart instead of wearing it on your sleeve for his viewing pleasure.

Your name is weakly rasped on the other line, setting ablaze your rapidly fraying nerves. Is this really happening to you? Were you ever as safe as you hoped? Is there safety to be found when someone like Chrollo Lucilfer has set his sights on you?

“I wish,” each syllable takes a great deal of effort for your Edgar to enunciate. There’s a pause, for talking must take a great deal of strength. “I wish… I never met you.”

The line goes dead.

Sluggishly, you move your head in the phone’s direction. You don’t want to believe what you just heard. Or the fate that will inevitably befall the one person in this world you were able to trust. What a plague you must be, a harbinger of ill fortune to all who encounter you. You craved life, yet it wilts at your fingertips, sensing the consequences that’d come if you so much as brush against it. They cower into faraway corners like you aren’t also a victim who longs for safety.

You might not be the grim reaper they fear, but where you walk, he’s bound to follow.

Chrollo clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “That’s who you intended to wed, dear? A small-time Hunter who denounces you after a little pain? My, my… that must sting. Still, I doubt it comes close to how hurt I was upon hearing news of your dalliances.”

Dalliances. Is that all he considers your betrothal to be?

He presses his advantage at your silence — you don’t think you could form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it. Unlike him, you haven’t been dutifully preparing for this moment for god knows how long. His words wreak of premeditation and long hours spent ruminating over how to cut the deepest. He should consider himself successful if that is the case.

“I suppose I’m somewhat at fault for lacking proper foresight,” Chrollo sighs, his nonchalance in discussing the matter borderline commendable. “I thought some well-placed Nen would keep you nice and docile for me until my business came to an end. Never did I imagine you’d run into a Nen Exorcist of all people. Much less welcome his advances when you so adamantly refused mine.”

He places a hand to his chin, musing aloud to himself, “What is it about him that won you over so fast, I wonder? He’s weak, too destitute to afford a proper ring despite being a Hunter, and above all else, more than happy to give you up if it meant his life being spared. Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things he said about you darling. He said he never would’ve intervened had he known it was I you belonged to. That this was all your fault for deceiving him. Not a very good look, I must say.”

“Stop it,” you beg, covering your ears with your hands and squeezing your eyes shut, “Please, just stop—”

Your pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears. His selective hearing sure hasn’t changed.

“Had I known you were so eager to marry, I would’ve made you my bride ages ago,” Chrollo continues, acting as if this were a spur-of-the-moment revelation and not a monologue practiced in advance. “How about it, [First]? I think that might just be the thing this relationship needs. I know I’m committed, but you… hm. Your loyalty leaves much to be desired. Ah. Here comes our appetizer.”

Using a gentleness you didn’t think him to be capable of, he peels your hand off the side of your face, then places a handkerchief into your outstretched palm. You stare at it, barely registering anything aside from the soft fabric brushing against your skin. No other sensory inputs make an impression on your brain, in what must be its last-ditch effort to preserve your sanity. You blink. Once, twice. Red? Is that red? You tunnel your attention into the seemingly insignificant detail. This handkerchief is black as midnight, and yet, there’s something off about the upper right corner. A hint of an iron scent permeates the air. Subtle, but not subtle enough.

Your paroxysm almost begins anew when you realize what the foreign substance must be: blood.

Considering the details of what you’ve been made to endure these past few minutes…

“Try not to think about it too much, dear.”

You drop the cloth like it was acid that’d burn your flesh should it be held any longer, a reaction that makes him chuckle.

“You’ve always been squeamish, haven’t you?” he muses. He folds the handkerchief and then tucks it into his blazer’s inner pocket. You’re digging your nails into the palm of your hand hard enough almost to break skin, the pain anchoring you. This is the life you’ll have to live again. The mind games, the quips, the humiliation, and the frustration. You don’t know if you can handle it again. Worse of all, you don’t know if you have a choice.

It’s doubtful that you do.

Chrollo leans forward, invading what little personal privacy you have left, his lips brushing suggestively against your ear.

“One more suggestion. You might want to excuse yourself and get cleaned up, you look a mess. Just be sure to keep an eye on the time. We wouldn’t want to ruin everyone else’s evening, now would we?”

[miseries-mistress]

Okay idk if you write for commander wolffe or ahsoka but if you do can you write something spicy for either of them. You choose who idc, I’m just so down for these two LMAO

Also ur writing is so amazing, like it’s indescribably good ♥︎♥︎

RIPPED AWAY (SEWN TOGETHER) | COMMANDER WOLFFE

Synopsis: You wanted to shout, scream into the night to release your pent-up frustration boiling inside of you. The battle to take a separatist base was fruitless, and with Anakin's instance that none of you retreat and keep pushing forward, despite your protests leads to Ahsoka's injury. In your haste to retrieve Ahsoka, you step away from the ranks to her body in the center of the clearing. Chaos ensues. 

Warnings: female reader, wolffe being mean, like more than usual, but it's okay bc i love mean men, injury, canon typical violence, blood, gore, injury, all the good stuff. W/C: 3,880

star wars masterlist

The battle raged like a storm without end, with each wave of blaster fire raining down upon you with the strength only death alone could possess. It didn't matter how many droids your men shot down or how many shots you and Anakin deflected. It wasn't enough. 

Clouds of smoke spiraled around you, obscuring the moon while your body ached for respite under cover of the ever-twinkling stars. Retreat was becoming more of a prospect by the second, yet another dark reality to face as another volley of bombs dropped in your vicinity, the ear-piercing screams quelled by the exchange of blaster fire. 

Another bolt was deflected. Another droid is down. Another man down. The cycle was endless, and you've had enough. 

"Anakin!" you screamed over the clanking droids. "We need to retreat!"

Anakin's head whipped around to face you, his eyes wide before his eyebrows knitted in frustration, his face twisting in defiance.

"We can take the base!" he shouts, and a man behind you thuds to the ground, his organs mixing with the sloppy sludge of oil, mud, and blood. "If we can break their defenses–"

"The men can't hold out that long, and neither can we! Regrouping is our only hope of surviving this! We are losing them by the minute!" 

"We hold our position. That's final!" 

You wanted to scream, tear the hair out of your head if that meant reasoning with him. If this was your mission, you would have pulled back ages ago, having realized staying here any longer would be fruitless. Their forces were simply too many, overwhelming quick thoughts of attack. You needed a strategy, and it would be impossible to form one in the heat of battle while you deflected oncoming advancements. 

You racked your brain for a solution, frantic to figure out some kind of strategy to not only reduce casualties but also take the separatist base. That was until a crackling, uneven voice spoke urgently over your and Anakin's commlink, his voice barely audible. "Commander Tano is down."

Every nerve, vein, and blood vessel was doused in frozen water, your blood running cold as you could feel it draining from the pores in your face. You've never seen Anakin move so fast, stepping back so Rex could cover him. "What?! Where are you?!"

"We are overrun– we need to pull back," the trooper spoke again, despair thickly coating his entreaty.

"Send your coordinates and hold your position," Anakin orders. You could feel, not in the Force, but physically feel his solicitude radiating off him in unprecedented waves of dread before switching off the commlink. 

"General, go to Ahsoka's position! Rex and I will hold out here!" he orders you with the swiftness and composure he could muster under the circumstances. You curtly nod, your apprehension for Ahsoka outweighing your frustration. 

You turn to your commander, your boots sticking to the mud and clinging to your feet. "Wolffe, Comet, and Boost, you're with me. Sinker, you lead the men while I recover, Commander Tano."

"Yes, sir." Wolffe squeezes Sinker's shoulder before the three troopers follow you as you weave through blaster fire, looking down at the coordinates Anakin sent you every couple of seconds. 

The noise of battle is deafening. A sound that often haunts soldiers' dreams is all that pounds in a hysterical beat against your skull. Dirt and rubble fly around you, men howl in pain, and superiors scream orders in the faint hope of not seeing more numbers on a list of the fallen. Each sound terrorizes you, engulfs you in dark, endless black water, fated to drown you if you stop kicking for the surface where the light resides instead of the void of the darkness beneath you. All your years of training to become a Jedi and being one could never prepare you for this.  

You reach Ahsoka's position in record time, and immediately you are met with red bolts of blaster fire showering upon you. It was worse, so much worse than where you held out with Anakin, and it showed by the disfigured bodies of blue and gray armor stacked upon each other, the stench of death almost too much to bear. 

"Over here, general!" You follow the voice, your feet slapping against the mud as you catch sight of Ahsoka. She was groaning, her hand covering what you could already see as a nasty wound, the skin around it scorched and inflamed. Thick dark red blood oozed around her fingers as another clone pulled her back. He was almost to your position when a flash of light collided with his armor, and his body smashed to the ground next to her.

Your lightsaber sprang to life with a snapping hiss as you began defending Ahsoka's injured form. Wolffe, Comet, and Boost joined the battle as you did, reemerging into the flow of war. 

You tried to inch forward to her position in the middle of the clearing with every battle droid that smashed into the grimy soil, but your efforts were in vain. For every droid that fell, another replaced it. Reinforcements flooded in an endless stream of metal as the bodies beside you grew, your friend's life force dwindling as she slowly bled out, so close yet so far. If only–

Your body slammed into the ground, your arms crumpling beneath your weight. There was an obnoxious high-pitched ringing in your ears, blocking the sound of anything else besides your thundering heartbeat. You blinked, clearing the black spots that had begun to dot your vision, the shock hitting you in full. The infinite dark sky is speckled with luminescent stars, mockingly watching you as they laugh at your collapsed form, doused in the weakest breath of strength.  

Ahsoka. 

You could see her closer now, and your head swam with the force of whatever injury you sustained that you couldn't feel. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting Ahsoka to safety. Whatever it was, it wasn't severe enough to stop you from stumbling to her, your body throbbing with the phantom of agony as you all but collapsed beside her, your knees wet with silt. You shook her with a ghost of the power you possess, your hands violently shaking as her eyes remained shut. Tears swam in your vision while your chest painfully constricted as you shook her harder, only for her eyes to crack open a moment later, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat and ash. You could almost collapse in the burden of your injury and hers, but you held yourself up, not brave enough to look at her wound. 

"Ahsoka," you cried in relief, and her features wrung in pain as she returned to a more steady form of consciousness, no doubt feeling the weight of her injuries. "I'm going to get you out of here." 

"I-I'm okay," she wheezed as your arms dived under her head and knees, slowly rising to your feet with her. Colors flashed blindingly in your vision, and lightheadedness and dizziness nearly swept you off your feet. No matter how much your body screamed at you, threatening to crumple, your will filled your chest like a breath of fresh air, stealing your resolve. You had to do this. You had to push through, not for your sake, but for the young Padawan in your arms. 

You two made it behind your forces, and a clamor of voices finally reached your ears after too long of nothing but ear-splitting ringing. 

"They're back! Fall back! Fall back!" someone ordered as the rest of the men began to retreat to the carriers behind you to take you back to base. Even though with each step, pure singing misery rippled down your spine, you pushed for the promise of safety. 

When you entered, the doors closed and lifted into the murky sky. A couple of troopers rushed to your side, carefully taking Ahsoka from your arms and scurrying off to the medical center buried deeply in the confines of the ship. Clones around you dispersed to their positions, and you cautiously lowered yourself to the ground, forgoing the seats as you leaned your head back. The ship was silent besides the roar of the engines, which you hid your labored breathing behind. Every expansion of your lungs felt like you were being burned within an inch of your life, seizing the air from your breast in one fell swoop. Tentatively you lifted your robes, hissing when the fabric caught on your impairment, only for your breath to be sucked back into your irritated lungs. Your exposed flesh was spitting out crimson liquid, the edges of your wound charred in a sickening state of black, and you could faintly smell your burning flesh, binding the torn fabric of your tunic to your heaving meat. 

Just a graze, you thought to yourself as you lowered your tunic, something that could be dealt with when you reach Coruscant. 

"You…okay?" a hesitant voice reaches your ears, and you turn your head to find Wolffe leaning against the doorway, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. It wasn't a look you often saw on him, making your chest tighten as if someone had reached into there and squeezed with all their might to rob the breath from your lungs. You find the same emotion inexplicably rising in the back of your throat.  

"Yeah, yeah, just tired. That's all," you lie, pinching your lips as the intensity of your burned nerves sharpens by the minute. 

He raises an eyebrow, his chin jerking forward. "Then what's all that blood for, sweetheart?"

Shit. You glance down to find that your blood has, in fact, seeped through your clothing, the dark patch expanding into the woven fabric of your wear.

"It-It's not mine. No need to worry," you grit your teeth. Wolffe scowls, and it's then you know you've lost the uphill battle of pride you were fighting. You sigh, slinking further against the wall, and he takes this as your sign of defeat.  

"When were you planning on telling me? Before or after you bleed to death?" He kneels in front of you, and you cringe at the bite in his words. 

"You're being over dramatic. I'm fine, Wolffe." you roll your eyes at his antics, but he scoots closer. Even when taking a knee in front of you, he seems to tower above you, his stoic presence alone engulfing the room. It's impossible not to notice the concern that laces his features as he gulps, his adam's apple bobbing.  

"You're covered in blood," he points out.  

"Like I said, it's nothing–" You yelp, doubling forward when he roughly shoves two fingers into your wound, blood instantly staining your outer robes from your tunic. 

"Fucking liar," he snarls before standing up, his eyes flickering around the room for the first aid kit. You groan, curling within yourself as the damaged skin throbs from Wolffe's painful jab, your vision blurring around the edges as you try to keep your eyes focused, only for him to leave your peripheral a second later. Your eyes begin to droop as the weight of battle, and your injury finally starts to percolate the very fiber of your being. Sleep is now a call from the heavens, a gentle hand forcing your eyes to shut.

There is a clanging sound as a box hits the floor, and out of curiosity, one eye cracks open. Wolffe is back, digging fervently through the med kit on the floor for something…most likely for you. Your eyelids begin to close once more, now at peace knowing Wolffe would take the pain from you as he has done many times before. 

Just as you began to drift off, the pain returned, only doubling in vehemence. You bite back a scream as the clothes melted into your pulsating raw flesh are ripped away. Wolffe places a firm hand over your chest to keep you from doubling over. 

You throb with white-hot agony, every nerve alight as it feels like thousands of boiling hot needles are being shoved into your skin and torn out simultaneously. Your eyes squeeze shut, fat tears collecting in your scrunched waterline. Behind your eyelids, you can see a kaleidoscope of bright colors dancing across the infinite void behind your eyes. 

The searing pain dulls as something cold and slippery runs over the affected area, the scalding burn dissolving into a dull throb. 

"Shit, Wolffe," you whimper as he presses the bacta into your charred skin, his fingers roughly moving into every crevice of your wound. 

"If you wanted gentle, you should have asked for my vod instead," he gruffly replied as you hissed in pain. The bacta was doing its job of settling the fiery burn eating at your flesh, but his hands were far from delicate, and you considered the idea that he was purposely trying to make this hurt more than it should. "Or told me sooner."

"You could be a little nicer. After all, I am–" you grit your teeth as fingers swirl over your side with unnecessary force. "Injured," you finish weakly, slipping further into your position on the floor as he begins to wrap the wound.  

"If you weren't such a brat and tried to lie to me, we wouldn't be in this position, now would we?" he growls, his voice a baritone lower and substantially more gravelly. His eye flares and his lips curl into a snarl in his malice. You advert your gaze, shame filling your sternum, and you can't help but wallow in it while Wolffe finishes patching you up. 

He sits back on his heels, admiring his work while your disheartened expression not going unnoticed by the burly commander. Those feelings, the ones he'd tried to suppress when he witnessed what appeared to be a fall while retrieving Ahsoka, which was now revealed as a blaster wound, came swarming to the surface, brimming at the edge of release. These emotions were dark and tenebrous and made his chest constrict with each second they remained pent up. 

You were a Jedi, you didn't get injured. It was something he never had to fret about whenever you stepped onto the battlefield, but today...today proved that wrong in the nastiest way possible. Your flirt with death was unnecessary and reckless, a show of independence and strength. Your refusal to rely on Wolffe or his men to aid you resulted in your life-threatening injury and the worst part was there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"What you did today was reckless." Your gaze travels from the durasteel floor to the intense silver of his cybernetic eye, the crease between your eyebrows deepening at his accusation. 

"What I did today saved Ahsoka's life." 

"You needlessly put your life on the line instead of relying on your men to help you."

"I did not." you defend yourself, tenderly crossing your arms over your chest with an indignant huff. 

"That's exactly what you did," he snarled. "Don't even try to bullshit your way out of this."

"I'm not!" you exclaim, wincing at the strain you caused on your side from your outburst. "I did what I had to do without risking your lives!"

"Oh, so now you pretend to care," he chuckles darkly. "You seemed too preoccupied with your little hero moment, sweetheart. I almost had the wrong impression."

Your eyes narrowed into crinkled slits, coldness bleeding into your gaze. "I was mindful of the risk and decided it was one I alone had to take!"

"And look where you wound up."

"You're a piece of shit," you spit. "You don't get to harass me about my choices."

"If I wanted to harass you, I would. I'm trying to get it in your thick skull not to put yourself in such unnecessary danger again."

"Oh, you're just full of nice things, aren't you, Wolffe?" you scoff, rolling your eyes skyward while your heart writhes in bitterness. 

"Only for you," he sneered in retaliation. 

The bickering is childish, but both of you don't seem to realize it, too caught up in your own bouts of fury to even consider the other person's words. It's horrible, but it's the only way you can talk to each other unfiltered, without lies to ease the validity of the situation. If you took a moment to collect yourself and remove yourself from the fervent argument, you're afraid he would stop spewing out what he truly feels in harsh comments and resign to silence, bottling up his emotions as he has done all his life. Wolffe's never been one to find the right words or the will to express what's eating away at his war-stained mind. You blame it on the Kamanoins and the environment he was raised in, which is why any progress in opening up the impenetrable vault of his heart is better than nothing, even if it means being on the receiving end of his insults. But, of course, you are not entirely focused on that, your anger stirring at his unreasonableness to listen to you, which in turn only eggs him on. And if you weren't so caught up in your emotions, you would realize that his invectives come from a place of regard for your safety and well-being after you were nearly killed. 

It's not a familial care like he shares with his brothers, but a tender, heart-wrenching fear foreign to a battle-hardened soldier such as himself, hence his inability to process the emotion, turning to lash out in his distress. But of course, that goes over your head, nothing but determination fueling your self-righteous point of view. 

You two stare at each other, and in your own rage, muddled aggravation, you can't pick out the exact emotion swimming in his irises, pushing and pulling against each other. 

"If you are going to continue to be a prick, leave me alone. I'm done trying to deal with your bullshit," you bark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your whimper as you adjust yourself, your wound pricking at the stretch in your torso. 

Wolffe's eyes seem to soften at that moment as their former fiery irises give way to the ocean of regret that fills them. He wilts, his hand finding its way to his hair, carding through it in search of the right words. 

"You almost died." It's not a question or command but a statement- a fact. Words fail you as you continue to stare into his mismatched gaze. "Your reckless behavior almost got you killed."

"But it didn't." You stare at him, begging him to notice your reassurance, to take it with open arms, but he doesn't. Wolffe is too wrapped up in the unfamiliar surge of emotions making his chest strangle with the lump impossibly forming in his throat. He wasn't used to this kind of trepidation for someone else, a worry running so profound it was stifling him. 

 "If I wasn't there..."

"Wolffe–"

"No– fuck listen to me...You would have died." You wrenched your gaze away from him as tears welled in the back of your eyes, the weight of your actions bearing down upon you with the ease only regret could tame. 

"You could have died," his strangled voice bit out as you digested each word, your stomach sinking all the while. "God damn it, look at me."

Your gaze is ripped from the floor when Wolffe grabs your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes, muddled with too many gut-wrenching feelings to process. "Fuck– you can't do that to me. Can't… can't do that to me."

His words are awkward and unsteady as if he doesn't know how to, but there's a desperate plea for your understanding. He wants you to comprehend every word his tongue can't form, every emotion threatening to swallow him up and spit him out, as every facade comes crashing down in his moment of desperation. 

So instead of talking, you lean over, despite your discomfort, and capture his lips between your own. He holds his breath, his body rigid with the sensation of your warm lips cracked by your constant biting. Then he understands the suddenness behind your actions, and his hands find your face instantly, pouring everything out into the open. His lips are feverish, swollen with spirit. He moves his mouth to taste the essence of your life, to devour your sweet taste as if it was the last thing he would ever do. It's as if he's reassuring himself of your beating heart (and flushed cheeks) as his tongue moves over your lips to seek refuge in the cavern of your mouth he calls home.

You don't see Wolffe in distress very often. Instead, you see a mask of calm, composed ruthlessness shielding his ever-cracked and dismantled soul. Your ability to peer through his walls frightened him at first, but over time as you spilled your hearts to one another over and over again, he found less of a need to keep the shields he had readily put in place, an action that came over time. Now, while his lips swallowed yours in a frenzy, his worry, an emotion that would make him a liability in war, was being poured over you. It was passionate how he moved over you, his hands moving to cup your face while the other slid across various parts of your body. He knew his action was not a display of lust but a solace to himself that you were, in fact, here, despite the deepest horrors his mind could conjure. 

As the embrace slowed to a halt, pulling away for a gulp of air, the tension that once smothered the room in its toxic fumes dissipated, leaving peaceful tranquility in its wake. 

"Don't do that shit again, you hear me?" he breathes, his voice hardened by the lilith that tainted his words. 

"Okay." You nod along with your promise. "Okay."

His body sagged with relief at your reply, a short breath of air leaving his lips. 

"I'm sorry." Wolffe shook his head, dismissing your apology. With the condolence you had so given him, the lingering air of hostility melted, and while it didn't soothe the ever-present fear that came with combat and your safety, the unspoken promise that you would heed his words and move less hastily without care for your life was enough for him. He knew you couldn't give him anything more because anything more would be a lie. His hand moved to cup your face as you nuzzled in the ever-present warmth of his hand, praying that your moment of reprieve would last forever.

[aquagirl1978]

Hi, Can I request a yandere headcannons for Chevalier, Gilbert and Keith?

IKEMEN PRINCE HEADCANONS - GENERAL YANDERE HEADCANONS (Chevalier, Gilbert, Keith)

Warning - these headcanons are based on an AU where the suitor is yandere. Because this involves triggering content, everything will be under the cut.

Chevalier Michel is obsessive. Chevalier is used to order and control; he is the one controlling the pieces on the chessboard. When he declares war upon Obsidian, imagine his surprise when he realizes your safety is in jeopardy. If he is out on the battlefield, who would be at the palace protecting you? In finding his humanity, he discovers something new - the fear of losing you. This fear cripples the second prince in ways nothing ever had before. His thoughts wander to all the many ways Obsidian could exact their revenge on him by going through you. With eyepatch on their side, the possibilities were endless and cruel.

Chevalier is uncomfortable with this unfamiliar loss of control, and does the only thing his mind can think of- keep you in his room until he returns. Before he leaves for war, he tells you that you can never leave the confines of his bedroom while he is away.

"Do it for me," he begs and pleads, a fear never before seen clouding his wavering eyes. Aware of his obsession - you've seen him eating less, the dark circles under his eyes evidence of his lack of sleep, it had been eating away at you, wondering what you could do to ease his worries if at all. A part of you happy he has a solution that will allay his fears, you know better than to say no to the prince they call the Brutal Beast and resign yourself to a lonely future, trapped in his room full of fantastical books, pining for the day your prince returns to you.

Gilbert von Obsidian is manipulative. "Ah, it's wearing off... the little rabbit awakens," Gilbert greets you, your eyes adjusting to the darkness that is Obsidian. It doesn't take you long to know you are no longer in Rhodolite. Gilbert, with a smile, tells you that Rhodolite declared war on him, completely ignoring the fact that he drugged you and fled the city with you in his carriage. But that's okay, he tells you, because you're here with him now, in Obsidian. Safe, from those princes who would only use you for their gain. He strokes your cheek gently, his skin cool through his leather gloves, in an attempt to comfort you. And for some reason, it works. Gilbert loves you when no one else will. Right?

Life in Obsidian is, well, different. Gilbert provides you everything you could want or need. He has new books delivered every day; he laughs and says he knows you would be bored with his volumes on military strategies and makes sure they bring you lots of romance novels. Servants bring you meals with a note from Gilbert that this is safe to eat, and then quickly leave, barely staying long enough for you to see their faces. He allows you free reign to roam in the palace, but kindly suggests you watch where you go or who you speak to - you never know who may or may not be a spy or what they might try to do to you.

Gilbert comes back to see you almost daily, taking his evening meal with you. When you go to bed, after he discards his bloodied clothes, he makes love to you until you pass out in his arms. "You're mine," his fingers firm on your neck as he whispers in your ear, his words hazy as you drift in and out, "you're mine and only mine."

Keith Howell is overprotective. His alter finds you in your room late one evening, informing you that war was just declared on Obsidian. He convinces you, despite your great hesitation, that the safest place to go to is Jade - they're a neutral country and there will be no fighting there. He is doing this for Keith, he tells himself - he is doing what Keith cannot bring himself to do to keep you safe. He tells you Keith would be destroyed, utterly shattered, if any harm came to you and practically begs you, with tears in his eyes, to come with him. When you question him, ask about your friends, your life in Rhodolite, he grabs you by your wrists, his long, elegant fingers encircling you, his thumb harshly pressing on your pulse points. You struggle, but soon know there's no point. By some miracle, his alter convinces you to flee Rhodolite in the middle of the night with him and makes you promise not to tell Keith about this agreement - your protection for your silence. However, in order to ensure your safety, no one is to know you are in Jade; you will be essentially trapped in Keith's room day after day.

When you wake up the next morning - in bed with Keith - he is somewhat surprised to find you there until you explain about the war and that Jade would be safest for you. Keith agrees with your assessment and is happy you made it to him safe and sound. During the day, you remain in Keith's room, looking forward to what little time you get to spend with him. At night, you lie awake, in Keith's captive arms, wondering if your friends in Rhodolite are even alive. But you'll never know - Keith's alter does everything in his power to keep you safe and part of that means no word from the outside world.

[its-a-ducky-mess]

Speculation: Sarah's Potential Neurodivergency

Some certain viewers and fans of Sarah & Duck have posed a certain question over time. So much so, that it's even one of Google's autocomplete results and one of the suggestions when you so much as look up the show or its characters. That question being...

"Is Sarah autistic?"

While (to my knowledge, and at the time of writing this) no staff of the show have put out an official word, some fans have theorized based on evidence seen in the show that Sarah is in fact autistic/neurodivergent. One such user is @beenovel, an autistic individual, whose theorizing has gotten me to do some of my own research over time as well. I will be paraphrasing and using their evidence here, marked by "quoted italics". I do not mean to steal their evidence or their work, but using it to compile a stronger collection of evidence for this theory/headcanon. Please check out their original analysis here.

As a warning, this post is incredibly long.

Clothing

"She has comfort clothes. A lot of cartoon characters wear the same outfit over and over again but Sarah is shown to have other clothes, she just likes her outfit best. When one of her shoes gets a hole she is very upset about the prospect of replacing them. I also like to think that the reason she’s always wearing her beanie is because (like me) she finds the pressure on her head comforting."

The shoe point is from Tapping Shoes. More about this will be elaborated on later, although it is worth mentioning that Sarah tried to play off the damage to her favorite shoes in order to keep them before being convinced to look for new ones.

While it's unknown as to her exact attachment to her pink jacket, Sarah has been shown to prize it. When the zip pull breaks off of it, she becomes incredibly upset and near-unresponsive. So much so, that Duck had to push a whimpering Sarah all the way to Scarf Lady's house in Haber Dasher.

[Source: Series 3, Episode 37, Haber Dasher]

When at her door, Sarah could only muster a heart-broken "Zip..." as she presents it to Scarf Lady. When Scarf Lady's solution doesn't work, Sarah sighs in resignation and hides behind a curtain.

Sarah's beanie/cap/hat is near and dear to her, as seen in Balloon Barnacles where she is upset over the possibility of losing her very first hat made for her by Scarf Lady. She's also had the hat long enough for it to appear (potentially) years earlier in the past, during the flashback in Duck Flies. The head pressure idea actually does have some more ground to it. During Cloud Tower, which takes place on a hot day, Sarah doesn't wear her jacket, but keeps the hat. Also in Doubles, in her tennis outfit, she actually does forgo the hat, but replaces it with a headband. This give a neat amount of credence to the pressure angle.

Favorites

"Her hyperfixations are sea cows (also known as manatees) and lemons. In one episode they are going to the zoo to see the sea cows and she mentions it’s been five days since they last visited the sea cows and the narrator replies with “[the sea cow]’s probably [wondering] where we’ve been”. This implies they often visit the zoo just to see the sea cows. For me, I was obsessed with otters... there was this one aquarium I used to go to... and it was my favorite place to go, even as an older teenager. I can watch them for hours and be perfectly happy, and Sarah seems to be the same way."

This moment is at the beginning of Paisley Sea. (This episode also contributes to another theory I'll post about later!) The zoo and aquariums are a frequent setting for certain episodes. Apart from having a poster of a sea cow in her bedroom, Sarah was upset at not getting the chance to adopt a sea cow during Basking Shark, seemingly disappointed at having to settle for the titular shark. Sarah also practically explodes with happiness upon seeing a baby sea cow during Paisley Sea.

[Source: Series 2, Episode 17, Paisley Sea]

In addition, every visit to the zoo that's occurred, Sarah has sought out the sea cow and greeted it at least once, if even for a moment. One such occurrence is in Planetarium Aquarium, where she even went back to say it was "still her favorite" and giving it a thumbs up despite not visiting them for a proper amount of time.

[Source: Series 3, Episode 15, Planetarium Aquarium] This is also a very adorable screenshot.

"She also has lemon water all the time. I don’t know if that’s a common British thing, but I know that my mom and I (both autistic) prefer our water with lemon in it because it adds flavor and makes it easier to stay hydrated."

Lemons remain a very present theme/motif throughout the show even outside of the lemon water drink.

[Sources: Series 2, Episode 13, Shallot Circus (top) | Series 1, Episode 32, Puncture Pump (bottom)]

Sarah has a lemon themed telephone, bike valve covers, and had difficulty picking a singular item from the cafe's menu in Lemon Cafe (although being on a very short time limit didn't help), let alone pick a drink. In the same episode, she goes through a lot of work to make her own lemon cafe. Sarah is the sole human enjoyer of lemon water within the show, and solely during Lemon Cafe, she seems disappointed when Duck, Umbrella, and Bug dislike lemon water, and seemingly doesn't understand why exactly they don't like it like she does. I say "human enjoyer" because Flamingo during Scared of Stairs drinks and likes lemon water, much to Sarah's enjoyment.

[Source: Series 1, Episode 30, Scared of Stairs]

Learning

"She loves learning things and pretty much every time she has a question that her dad the narrator can’t answer she looks it up on the computer or goes to the library to find out more. She gets very upset if she can’t find a satisfactory answer."

While I am personally a "NarraDad" truther as well (Despite the evidence which I'll discuss along with the theory in a future post, maybe), that's not the point here.

There are many points where Sarah will look something up on the computer in the technology room for answers, such as in Slow Quest and Tortoise Snooze. Sarah is also a frequent library visitor, and a few episodes take place there or are visited for a part of them (such as Cheer Up Donkey or Lost Librarian, to name a few).

Sarah also repeats back certain words or phrases sometimes (like repeating 'shokupan' from John during Fluff Bread), which beenovel says is how autistic children learn inflection, and hypothesizes this is a vocal stim for Sarah. She often mispronounces words, new or otherwise. Such as, saying "burger" instead of burglar (Constable Quack), "elephants" instead of eloquent (Mountain Mints), and "eyes, sky, dry" instead of "eins, zwei, drei", which is "one, two, three" in German (Woolly Memories, Duck Hotel). Possibly the funniest of these examples is Sarah pronouncing "itadakimasu", a Japanese phrase said before you begin eating, as "it's a ducky mess" (which is where I get my blog's handle from!!) during Fast Slow Bungalow. Sarah also clearly pronounces "hello" and "yes" as hullo and yus. Merchandise and social media confirms that she says them with a U as opposed to their proper versions. She also combines "it's nice" into "s'nice" at times, even to the point where the Narrator says s'nice and has to correct himself (Bench Blocked). "Suppose" also gets this treatment, sometimes sounding like "s'pose"

[Sources: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgYt4c2yHWQ | https://shop.sarahandduck.com/collections/art-prints-1/products/sarah-duck-a-z-art-print-sdaz]

On the topic of "proper" things, during Extra Bounce, Sarah and friends are brought to a room within the bouncy ball machine that houses unusually bouncing balls. The Narrator remarks "This must be the room for all the balls that don't bounce properly." Sarah then looks a bit upset and replies with a corrective/offended "Bounce differently."

beenovel writes "Autistic children are often upset at the prospect of toys or animals being treated differently just because they don’t do things the “right” way or are perceived as “broken”.

Sound Sensitivity

Tapping Shoes comes back into play here. Sarah sometimes shows an aversion/discomfort with certain noises, most prevalent being sudden, unexpected noise. In Tapping Shoes, when she unknowingly wore tap-dancing shoes and walked into the tiled kitchen, she became surprised and covered her ears first thing. She tried to quiet/muffle them, trying to get them to not make any sound until she's told that they're supposed to make sound. Before entering the noisy carriage in Train Fudge, she recoils back due to the noise and again, covers her ears first thing.

To link to another few point beenovel makes, Sarah becomes frustrated when others don't follow along with her games, such as her idea for her birthday in The Mouse's Birthday. Throughout the episode, all she wants is a quiet birthday, but is constantly annoyed and upset when her friends are loud, so much so that she retreats to the closet to escape the noise. beenovel states they've done this on multiple occasions as well.

Focus, Concentrate! /ref

Sarah has sometimes displayed inattentiveness and lack of focus, even when she's "supposed" to be focused.

"This is a common little kid trait but it’s more intense in autistic kids."

A possible instance of this is in Perimeter Pals, where while waiting for Tortoise to finish crossing their biking path, Sarah and Duck elect to take a break. They then nap for much longer than anticipated and have to scramble ahead to continue their park trip.

Funny Duck

"She’s taken an interest in an “odd” animal companion, and treats him more like a sibling than a pet."

Sarah may have a hyperfixation on ducks as well, in no small part due to Duck's presence in her life. Apart from her shirt and pajamas featuring ducks on them, she has a Duck shaped window in her house, as well as having a Duck costume already made and prepared before she even had the idea to swap with Duck during The Play.

[Sources: Series 1, Episode 3, Cheer Up Donkey | Series 1, Episode 35, The Play]

She is also very emotionally attached to Duck and becomes downtrodden at the possibility of not being around him for a long period of time. She dearly misses Duck for the short time they're apart during Duck Flies, almost unable to fathom doing anything without him.

[Source: Series 2, Episode 40, Duck Flies]

This feeling of togetherness seems to go both ways, as when Duck does come back at the end of the episode, the Narrator remarks "It seems Duck missed you too."

The Bench

Sarah is strongly attached to a specific bench in the park. She treats this bench incredibly seriously. When highlighting various parts of town, she holds the bench to a higher regard than a playground (Outside Outside). Sarah doesn't like going to other nearby parks because they lack the bench (Fancy Park), and gets very upset when something prevents them from sitting there, such as a fairground obscuring it (Fairground), or a sleeping teenager (Bench Blocked). Duck, without any word from anyone, offers to bite the teenagers leg of his own volition, which Sarah gives him the okay to do. The Narrator has to interrupt Duck, and Sarah is shown with an excited look right before Duck is about to bite. When the Narrator wonders if there's other places to sit, Sarah shakes her head "no", and gives a hesitant, begrudging headshake when the Narrator pressed her if they've actually tried to look for a place.

[Source: Series 3, Episode 14, Bench Blocked]

Later in the same instance, Sarah herself tries to bite the guy but is stopped by a squirrel. Sarah and Duck sit on the bench even while the paint on it is still wet, and are so relieved that they can sit there that they don't notice the paint on them (Fancy Park). Likely the reason Sarah likes the bench so much is because she met Duck there when she was younger (Duck Flies).

Making Friends

Going back to friends, she seems a bit awkward when meeting real people. Inanimate objects or animals, not so much. She meets Rainbow, the celestial bodies, Cake, Bug, Umbrella, Leftover Wool, and more and seems nonplussed about it. In contrast, when she meets John and Flamingo during Doubles, she walks back into her yard after exchanging neutral greeting with an awkward pause, and without the Narrator prodding, likely would've not continued a conversation. In addition, she confuses John for a girl and Flamingo for a duck, likely trying to make sense out of the new people using herself and Duck as reference. John sounded like he had a higher voice when he said hello to Sarah, so maybe she just assumed John was a girl by that. Sarah also seems a bit awkward with adults she isn't familiar with/hasn't met yet, like Music Lady and Cloud Captain, though that might just be a common kid trait.

Organization and Spontaneity

"She likes having things be organized and in their place. She also likes categorizing/matching colors."

"She enjoys looking for things. Many episodes start with [Sarah] and [D]uck looking for things like crunchy leaves, green patches of grass, things that match the colors on her color wheel, fluffy clouds, etc."

Sarah has rows of identical hats in her closet, her tuba is always seen in her room when it's not being used, and she has a drawer full of her previous drawings in the living room (Picture Planes). The color wheel point references Rainbow's Niece. Cheer Up Donkey begins with Sarah and Duck counting grass in their back garden.

Sudden interest in random things is also a trait Sarah exhibits. She often declares things to be good, saying "this one is best" or similar. Octagon Club is the best example, she sees an octagon in a shapes book, and goes to find things around the area that's octagonal. She forms the titular Octagon Club and quickly invites many other friends into it.

Literal-mindedness

Sarah often takes some of the Narrator's jokes or metaphors seriously. Either that, or the jokes completely fly over her head. Kite Flight provides this exchange:

Narrator: What we need is a windbreak.

Sarah: Don't break the wind, we need it!

Mountain Mints also has this:

Sarah: The mint's at the top!

Narrator: Fine, why not… Perhaps I'll find a nice chocolate log cabin.

Sarah: [excitedly:] Ooh!

Stimming

Sarah, when excited, sometimes does this sort of shaky-fists gesture close to her face, usually accompanied by an excited 'oooh!' or other hushed surprised sounds. She does it a few more times in the series, but at this moment, other examples are escaping me.

[Sources: Series 1, Episode 1, Lots of Shallots | Series 3, Episode 11, Fluff Bread]

Smaller tidbits I couldn't really fit anywhere else

She also sometimes does things in a formulaic fashion. Whenever she steps in snow or crunchy leaves, Sarah remarks "good crunch" (Seacow Snow Trail, Mountain Mints, Boo Night, among others) and becomes upset at Duck (albeit only for a brief moment) when he crunches some leaves in the path faster than her (Boo Night). She has commented "good crunch" since early childhood, as seen in Duck Flies.

Sarah originally would've kept her hair long and grown out simply because Scarf Lady didn't give her a good hair cut the "last time" during Hair Cut. She keeps trying to avoid it by preoccupying herself, and when she does eventually go to a salon, she tries to get Duck to take her place and admits that she's scared to the stylist. All in all, she lets a bad experience get the better of her and makes her catastrophize when trying something again.

Sometimes Sarah does things only she herself would like. One example I could think of is Cheer Up Donkey. Sarah played the tuba, which Donkey didn't like, but she was so into playing the tuba that it took the shouting of the Narrator for her to stop. When asked to try something that cheers her up and what makes her happy a short time after that, she immediately grabs the tuba again and has to be preemptively stopped before playing it again.

One more attachment related point similar to previous interests. Something ends up wrong with Sarah's tuba during Music Fixer, so she goes to the Music Shop to get it checked out. Music Lady tells her that she can hear what instruments think and that her tuba was saying it was too small for her (though that was just Bug). Sarah gets upset over having to replace her favorite instrument with something else and ends up not finding something that suits her before the episode's resolution.

As a final, sort of funny thing, Sarah is friends with a rainbow, and the rainbow lemniscate is the symbol of neurodiversity.

To my current knowledge I am not on the autism spectrum, and for that I do not wish to seem like I'm speaking on behalf of the autistic community. I do have ADHD however, which I was recently diagnosed with (I recognize those two are not the same thing). Thinking back on my childhood, a lot of Sarah's behaviors struck chords with my behaviors. Especially the sound sensitivity and lack of understanding with plans, those two were very prominent growing up, and the sound portion is still somewhat of an issue for me right now. Regardless of if Sarah is "canonically" autistic/neurodivergent, fans can interpret the cast of characters however they want, and I think it's sweet for kids watching Sarah & Duck to be almost represented in a way. It's also very nice that Sarah is never treated differently nor excluded from things because of her mannerisms. She's Sarah, and Sarah is s'nice.

[mariacallous]

A $2 million contract that United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement signed with Israeli commercial spyware vendor Paragon Solutions has been paused and placed under compliance review, WIRED has learned.

The White House’s scrutiny of the contract marks the first test of the Biden administration’s executive order restricting the government’s use of spyware.

The one-year contract between Paragon’s US subsidiary in Chantilly, Virginia, and ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations (HSI) Division 3 was signed on September 27 and first reported by WIRED on October 1. A few days later, on October 8, HSI issued a stop-work order for the award “to review and verify compliance with Executive Order 14093,” a Department of Homeland Security spokesperson tells WIRED.

The executive order signed by President Joe Biden in March 2023 aims to restrict the US government’s use of commercial spyware technology while promoting its “responsible use” that aligns with the protection of human rights.

DHS did not confirm whether the contract, which says it covers a “fully configured proprietary solution including license, hardware, warranty, maintenance, and training,” includes the deployment of Paragon’s flagship product, Graphite, a powerful spyware tool that reportedly extracts data primarily from cloud backups.

“We immediately engaged the leadership at DHS and worked very collaboratively together to understand exactly what was put in place, what the scope of this contract was, and whether or not it adhered to the procedures and requirements of the executive order,” a senior US administration official with first-hand knowledge of the workings of the executive order tells WIRED. The official requested anonymity to speak candidly about the White House’s review of the ICE contract.

Paragon Solutions did not respond to WIRED's request to comment on the contract's review.

The process laid out in the executive order requires a robust review of the due diligence regarding both the vendor and the tool, to see whether any concerns, such as counterintelligence, security, and improper use risks, arise. It also stipulates that an agency may not make operational use of the commercial spyware until at least seven days after providing this information to the White House or until the president's national security adviser consents.

“Ultimately, there will have to be a determination made by the leadership of the department. The outcome may be—based on the information and the facts that we have—that this particular vendor and tool does not spur a violation of the requirements in the executive order,” the senior official says.

While publicly available details of ICE’s contract with Paragon are relatively sparse, its existence alone raised alarms among civil liberties groups, with the nonprofit watchdog Human Rights Watch saying in a statement that “giving ICE access to spyware risks exacerbating” the department’s problematic practices. HRW also questioned what it calls the Biden administration’s “piecemeal approach” to spyware regulation.

The level of seriousness with which the US government approaches the compliance review of the Paragon contract will influence international trust in the executive order, experts say.

“We know the dangers mercenary spyware poses when sold to dictatorships, but there is also plenty of evidence of harms in democracies,” says John Scott-Railton, a senior researcher at the University of Toronto’s Citizen Lab who has been instrumental in exposing spyware-related abuses. “This is why oversight, transparency, and accountability around any US agency attempt to acquire these tools is essential.”

International efforts to rein in commercial spyware are gathering pace. On October 11, during the 57th session of the Human Rights Council, United Nation member states reached a consensus to adopt language acknowledging the threat that the misuse of commercial spyware poses to democratic values, as well as the protection of human rights and fundamental freedoms. “This is an important norm setting, especially for countries who claim to be democracies,” says Natalia Krapiva, senior tech-legal counsel at international nonprofit Access Now.

Although the US is leading global efforts to combat spyware through its executive order, trade and visa restrictions, and sanctions, the European Union has been more lenient. Only 11 of the 27 EU member states have joined the US-led initiative stipulated in the “Joint Statement on Efforts to Counter the Proliferation and Misuse of Commercial Spyware,” which now counts 21 signatories, including Australia, Canada, Costa Rica, Japan, and South Korea.

“An unregulated market is both a threat to the citizens of those countries, but also to those governments, and I think that increasingly our hope is that there is a recognition [in the EU] of that as well,” the senior US administration official tells WIRED.

The European Commission published on October 16 new guidelines on the export of cyber-surveillance items, including spyware; however, it has yet to respond to the EU Parliament's call to draft a legislative proposal or admonish countries for their misuse of the technology.

While Poland launched an inquiry into the previous government’s spyware use earlier this year, a probe in Spain over the use of spyware against Spanish politicians has so far led to no accusations against those involved, and one in Greece has cleared government agencies of any wrongdoing.

“Europe is in the midst of a mercenary spyware crisis,” says Scott-Railton. “I have looked on with puzzled wonderment as European institutions and governments fail to address this issue at scale, even though there are domestic and export-related international issues.”

With the executive order, the US focuses on its national security and foreign policy interests in the deployment of the technology in accordance with human rights and the rule of law, as well as mitigating counterintelligence risks (e.g. the targeting of US officials). Europe—though it acknowledges the foreign policy dimension—has so far primarily concentrated on human rights considerations rather than counterintelligence and national security threats.

Such a threat became apparent in August, when Google’s Threat Analysis Group (TAG) found that Russian government hackers were using exploits made by spyware companies NSO Group and Intellexa.

Meanwhile, Access Now and Citizen Lab speculated in May that Estonia may have been behind the hacking of exiled Russian journalists, dissidents, and others with NSO Group’s Pegasus spyware.

“In an attempt to protect themselves from Russia, some European countries are using the same tools against the same people that Russia is targeting,” says Access Now’s Krapiva. “By having easier access to this kind of vulnerabilities, because they are then sold on the black market, Russia is able to purchase them in the end.”

“It’s a huge mess,” she adds. “By attempting to protect national security, they actually undermine it in many ways.”

Citizen Lab’s Scott-Railton believes these developments should raise concern among European decisionmakers just as they have for their US counterparts, who emphasized the national security aspect in the executive order.

“What is it going to take for European heads of state to recognize they have a national security threat from this technology?” Scott-Railton says. “Until they recognize the twin human rights and national security threats, the way the US has, they are going to be at a tremendous security disadvantage.”

[overlordmetal]

Xenamon reference sheet

"For too long, Earthlings have suffered at the mercy of beings born superior to us. For too long have we relied on those same beings deemed superior to fight our battles for us--that changes now."

General information

Full Name: Xenamon

Name pun/meaning: Xenamon = Cinnamon

Nicknames/Alternate Names: "The Earthling with the Might of a Saiyan"

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Age: 

Birth Date: October 18, Age 756

Birth Place: Sacred Land of Korin

Nationality/Ethnicity: Karinga Tribesman

Species: Human-Type Earthling

Relationship Status: Single

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

Base of Operations: Mobile; Korin Tower (formerly)

Occupation: Martial Artist, Tribesman, Guardian, Freedom Fighter

Physical Information

Height: 5’7” / 170 cm

Weight: 117 lbs / 53 kg

Body Build: Slim and Athletic

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Black

Skin Tone: Tan

Birthmarks: n/a

Scars: several small scars scattered across his body from fighting (especially on his hands and feet)

Tattoos: n/a

Piercings: n/a

Other: Long nails coated in a special black husk, tribal makeup

Personality

MBTI: INTJ

Attitude:

In his youth, Xenamon already displayed his natural leadership qualities and intelligence but was more cheerful and sociable, often reaching out to anyone who he thought needed help. He was polite and level-headed, but wasn’t above falling into the usual hysterics that a young child would. He was very bold and straight-forward, sometimes saying things that could potentially offend (though it was out of curiosity rather than ill-intent). Xenamon was also outwardly empathetic, easily being able to easily relate with other people’s dilemmas and provide help.

By his teens, Xenamon is usually serious and reserved, keeping a level head in most situations. His meticulous approach combined with his keen observational skills often give him an analytical edge in most situations as he carefully plans intricate strategies for various challenges. He’s also creative and isn’t afraid to try new things as long as he believes the result will likely be favorable. Xenamon exercises a great deal of discipline, often following a strict regimen diligently and preferring to plan his day out beforehand. Despite this, he isn’t afraid to adapt should his hand be forced.

Generally a loner, Xenamon greatly values and appreciates his companions, but only opens up and expresses himself around those he trusts. Despite his reserved nature, Xenamon is usually polite and prefers to speak in a formal manner. He rarely expresses his emotions, desiring to keep them under control rather than allow them to cloud his judgment. This is especially enforced by past mistakes caused by when he let his feelings get the better of him. Xenamon is also prone to bearing heavy burdens on his own, taking duties on as his responsibility. Xenamon can appear unusually shaken or emotional if he feels he's lost control of a situation or is unable to come to any solutions.

Though mainly reliant on logic and reason, Xenamon retains a strong moral code, despising the evil in the world. He understands that fighting alone will not solve this and strives to influence mindsets to turn away from malevolence. Though initially reluctant to kill, Xenamon believes there are times where such an action is necessary.

___

Likes:

Art - Xenamon enjoys the arts very much and can be found painting and crafting or admiring artworks and sculptures from time to time.

Literature - Xenamon is an avid reader, often seen with a book in his off-time. He enjoys work of fiction as well as studying various sciences and psychology. Xenamon also keeps a journal.

Martial Arts - Ever since he was young, Xenamon was always interested in the martial arts because they allowed a normal human to be physically formidable. This is why he trains rigorously to achieve personal strength in order to remain competent and able to protect what he cares about.

Rock Music - Xenamon enjoys listening to rock music very much--especially heavy metal.

Cats - his favorite animal. His favorite type of cat are Tigers, especially the Siberian Tiger.

Fruit - Xenamon’s snack of choice, his favorite fruit of all being the dragon fruit.

Meditating - Xenamon spends a lot of time thinking and meditating about different things. He creates a lot of strategies and also analyzes different topics in depth.

Dislikes:

Corruption and Disorder

Androids and Alien Invaders - Xenamon can get along with foreign races just fine, but he's weary of all the tragedies his world has suffered from the malicious kind that use their power to cause suffering.

Junk food - Xenamon grew up in the Sacred Lands and as such, never developed a taste for fried, processed, fatty, or fast foods.

Fears:

Failing or losing control - Xenamon hates feeling useless or like a failure and losing control of situations; especially when it’s something important to him.

History

Xenamon was born October 18, Age 756 in the Sacred Land of Korin to a family of the Karinga Tribe. As he grew into a boy, Xenamon was a very responsible child, joining his parents and the other adults in the activities and duties of the Karinga Tribe, often acting as a natural leader among the children. In the original timeline (Future Trunks' timeline), Xenamon witnesses the androids destroy his home and people, being one of the few Karinga Tribesmen to survive the onslaught. He then spends the next several years training and searching for other fighters in order to take the androids down and restore Earth. In the current timeline however, Xenamon remains with his people since Korin and the Karinga Tribe are still alive.

Family, Alignment and Affiliations

Family

Parents/Guardian: Sal (father), Shu-Gah (mother)

Siblings: n/a

Significant Other: n/a

Children/Offspring: n/a

Pets: n/a

Alignment: Neutral-Good

Affiliations: Karinga Tribe; Kame House, Dragon Team (Future Trunks Timeline)

Mentors: Bora, Korin, Mr. Popo; Master Roshi (Future Trunks timeline)

Friends: Upa, Bora, Korin; Future Trunks, Bulma, Master Roshi, Pu'ar, Santoor, Oboe (Future Trunks timeline)

Enemies: Androids 17 and 18, Cell, Babidi, Dabura, Goku Black, Zamasu (Future Trunks Timeline)

Rival(s): Alcolio

Worst Enemy/Arch-Nemesis: Androids 17 and 18 (Future Trunks Timeline)

Acquaintances: Turtle, Oolong, Bellini, Vodaka, Crucifer (Future Trunks Timeline)

Other: Xenamon is a big fan of the Dragon Team (Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Master Roshi), even though he doesn't know them personally in most timelines.

Stats and Transformations

Power Level: 18,000 to 250,000; 180,000 to 25,000,000 with Primal Spirit activated. 1,000,000 to 65,000,000; 10,000,000 to 650,000,000 with Primal Spirit activated (Future Trunks Timeline).

Note: I was scaling off of the characters from the different sagas so power level numbers are nothing more than estimates since they stopped counting after Namek.

Powers & Abilities: Ki Manipulation, Superhuman Physiology, Enhanced Senses, Self-Enhancement; Flight (Future Trunks Timeline). Expert Martial Artist, Expert Tactician, Expert Survivalist, Skilled Swimmer, Artistry.

Ki Color: Red-Orange, Black, Blue

Fighting Styles: Karinga Style, Korin Style; Kame Style (Future Trunks Timeline)

With "Primal Spirit" Activated

Xenamon focuses his inner ki and harnesses the enrgy surrounding him to awaken his "Primal Spirit". With this ability activated, Xenamon's power is multiplied tenfold and his senses are enhanced to the point where he can touch, taste, smell, and see ki. His fingers form especially sharp ki claws that allow him to bypass his opponent's physical form and directly attack their spirits. He also possesses unique camouflage and tracking abilities while in this state and can phase through material objects.

Notable Techniques

Ki Claws - user concentrates their ki into their fingers, forming claws capable of slicing through most substances.

Tracer - User plunges a ki shard into their opponent, creating minimal damage and allowing said user to track their opponent’s movements and vitals at all times.

Blindspot - The user bends light around their body, similarly to the Solar Flare but instead uses it to cloak their appearance, rendering them invisible. They can also muffle their sound by concentrating the ki in their body to minimize impact between them and the floor. The user can hold this as long as they maintain concentration.

Predator’s Grip - User latches onto an opponent’s back and pierces their claws into their nervous system, gaining control over the victim’s movements. As long as they remain physically connected to the nerves, the user can maintain control over the body.

Paralyzing Bite - user uses a variation of Predator’s Grip to paralyze their opponent. The user does not need to remain connected for paralysis to continue and the effects can last from a few minutes to life depending on the severity of the attack.

Homicide Bomb - User performs a variation of Predator’s Grip to detonate their opponent, causing them to explode and create mass destruction.

Night Vision - User adapts their eyes for perfect night vision through the use of ki.

Living Anchor - User densifies their body using ki to make themselves immovable.

Splitting Roar - user manipulates ki to amplify their voice, allowing them to create various effects such as disorientating or incapacitating their opponent, splitting objects, and the like.

Ki Blast - The most basic form of energy wave.

Ki Sense - An ability that allows the user to sense ki and power levels.

Afterimage Technique – An ability to move so swiftly that an image of the user is left behind.

Telepathy – A way to communicate with others using one's mind.

Pressure Point Attack – A technique which, by touching or hitting weakly certain pressure points on an opponent's body, can incite effects such as paralysis or knock the opponent out. Enough prolonged pressure on the pressure points can also kill the opponent.

Ki Blast Thrust - The user focuses their ki into their fist and charges toward the opponent with an ki-enhanced punch which can cancel out weak to average Ki Blasts as they charge toward the opponent.

Flight -  The ability to fly with the use of ki (Future Trunks Timeline only).

Signature Technique: Spirit Crusher - Xenamon uses his Ki Claws to strike key points in his opponent's body, immobilizing them and blocking off their ability to utilize ki. Spirit Crusher can also be used fatally to permanently separate his opponent's spirit from their body.

Weaknesses:

Since his senses are keen, they can be overwhelmed by loud noises, etc. Can only hold his power up for ten minutes straight before powering down, which leaves his spirit detached from his body for ten days as it recovers in Other World. Can’t breath in the vacuum of space.

Other Notes

Xenamon was originally conceived as the son of Yamcha. Similarly to how Yamcha is wolf-themed, Xenamon was tiger-themed. His origin was later reworked however to avoid following the common trope of "OC children".

Xenamon and Alcolio were originally going to be half-brothers from the same mother

Xenamon's name is a pun on the spice, cinnamon.

Character Theme: Sepultura - Roots Bloody Roots

[silver-wield]

sorry if this question is too direct, but do you know exactly what is the time line of events for the ffvii heroine creation? Because i saw early art of Aerith (Amano’s art) then saw og relationship chart with Tifa’s face (where barret was named bolt i think) then some say originally it was Aerith design then tifa was designed later, im so confused with this, were they created at the same time or not? Who came first?? What everyone is implying doesn’t line up! How can the devs (create Cloud, Barret and Aerith first, then decided Aerith would die so now we need to creat another female character. So Aerith was first, Tifa came second) and (Tifa face and name was there when cloud, and “bolt” in the relationship chart) happened im so confused. Im so sorry for the confusing question but help 😭

Yeah, I have a rough timeline given what the devs have said. It's some guesswork and a bit out of order, but logically it can't really be any other way.

The devs make a list of characters for ffvii

Nomura creates a character chart using his designs. Tifa is the heroine and cetra role.

Kitase wants everybody except your final three party members to die before the final battle.

Nomura has a phone convo with Kitase and/or sakaguichi about this idea and thinks it's a bit extreme.

Sakaguichi agrees into killing only one character and it's the cetra, who is also an homage to his mother's passing.

Nomura doesn't want to kill Tifa, she's his baby he's been waiting to use on a project for several years. He swaps Tifa for a new design based on a monster he created for ffv and production moves forward with Aerith in Tifa's role and Tifa removed and saved for a future project.

Amano creates character artwork of the current cast.

The devs realise if they kill Aerith they have no heroine or love interest for Cloud, so Nomura reintroduces Tifa as "the woman who will remain by Cloud's side" and the story reaches the lifestream scene.

Nojima realises they need Zack to become the solution to the mystery of Cloud's identity, so he creates a profile and asks Nomura to design a character who looks like Cloud.

Amano is asked to design a character art for Tifa as a newly added cast member.

The game is finished, goes to release and then we have 30 years of bullshit because Kitase thought a love triangle was a cool concept 😮‍💨

The fact is Tifa was always the initial design and had both roles. The devs split the roles into two so that Tifa would remain Cloud's lover while Aerith got shafted.

Nomura saved his favourite girl and sacrificed Aerith in her place.

[tradesignalsbusiness]

Unlocking consistent returns: the power of forex signals

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Types of Forex Signals:

Manual Signals:

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Automated Signals:

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Advantages of Forex Signals:

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Emotions can cloud judgment in trading. Following signals allows traders to stick to a predefined strategy without being swayed by emotions like fear or greed.

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Signals often cover a range of currency pairs, providing diversification benefits and reducing risk.

Key Factors for Consistent Returns:

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Regardless of the accuracy of signals, risk management is crucial. Setting stop-loss orders and controlling the size of trades helps protect against significant losses.

Education:

Traders should understand the basics of forex trading to make informed decisions, even when using signals. Knowledge enhances the ability to assess and filter signals effectively.

Continuous Monitoring:

Markets can change rapidly. Regularly monitoring trades and adjusting strategies based on changing conditions is essential for consistent returns.

Choosing Reliable Signal Providers:

Not all signal providers are equal. Researching and choosing reputable providers with a track record of success is vital.

Challenges and Risks:

Market Conditions:

Signals may not perform well in all market conditions. Understanding the strengths and limitations of the chosen signals is crucial.

Over-Reliance:

Overreliance on signals without understanding the underlying market dynamics can lead to losses.

Scams:

The forex market is not immune to scams. Traders should be cautious and choose signal providers carefully to avoid fraudulent schemes.

Conclusion:

While forex signals offer a valuable tool for traders seeking consistent returns, they are not a guaranteed pathway to success. Successful trading requires a holistic approach that includes a blend of education, strategic thinking, and effective risk management. Traders should view signals as part of their toolkit and not as a standalone solution. When used wisely, forex signals can indeed contribute to achieving more consistent returns in the ever-evolving world of forex trading.

Source:

[onecantsimply]

Something about a Yandere Noah…

Maybe I just like yanderes in general. Walmart Beelzebub is more liked by me than the real one in ror-

Love at first sight-?

Rr Noah’s gonna be used as a small writing subject-

I’m obsessed with Noah FUCK-

This reader is gonna know their worth-

Alright… YANDERE WALMART BEELZEBUB X GN READER

• You’re the leader of your own organization. Confident, and clearly knowing when to respect people or put them down. Now, you’ve heard of Mother Goose. You just never had enough care to look into them, seeing as how you had work of your own. However, when one of your members had reported of a man in all black, as well as his group entering, you had known fully well he had meant business.

• The man had introduced himself as the leader of Mother Goose, and nothing more. You had done the very same of your own group, remaining silent or just listening most of the time. You had caught on to the things that he had wanted to do just by the way he had talked.

• But what you hadn’t caught onto was how… seemingly confused the man seemed. Your staring had made his face slightly heat up, especially when he had first saw you. You had radiated off that certain aura of confidence. You knew your worth. And it wasn’t suffocating like anyone else within the dark organizations. Rather that you knew what to do, and when to do it.

- “So… you’re going to get rid of our group.”

• You stood up, looking down at the man with a slight glower. To him, it was rather normal for people to get irritated at the knowledge of their own group possibly being murdered. However, you had proposed another solution, seeing as how you couldn’t have any of your group members dying yet. To him, it seemed as if you really did care for the people you had.

• And of course, that was true. You had thought of those in your group as your own children. Whether they’re as old as you, or even older, they’re ones you’re caring for. As a leader of your own group, it could be your responsibility to deal with certain things. And this was included. To you, killing everyone within your group was unacceptable.

• You didn’t care if that man wanted to cause chaos or destroy order. As long as it never included you or your group, you didn’t care. But if he had dared to target your group, it would mean an all out war against his group. Of course, you knew how tough these people were by the time you saw them. However, who said you didn’t have tough people of your own?

• Huh… That stare… That man couldn’t help but smile softly. How interesting.

• You went back to your regular exterior after, regularly conversing as if you didn’t warn the man or his group just a minute or two ago. The conversation didn’t last very long after, since the man had decided that he needed to leave.

• His group seemed slightly concerned for why they didn’t get to action when you and Noah had left the private room. He only shook his head, smiling softly. The group had then left, leaving you and your group in a safe spot. For now, that is. Perhaps he’ll come back again and have to enforce things.

• Though, even as he had went to a smaller organization, his mind was clouded. Clouded by you. He seemed confused about it, but had to try to push it aside upon realizing that the other leader had already started a fight. And so, the action started, leaving bloodshed in the room as a result.

• The man got questioned for how he was acting right after by one of his members. Wake. And… he couldn’t exactly answer. He didn’t know either. But, he did know he was somewhat entranced.

• This was a first for the others that had accompanied him. Their leader, who had been focused, but carefree about things, had now been kept in thought about one person that had thrown warnings towards him. … Not as if that hadn’t happened already, but what was so different about you?

• Even he never knew. But by the time he had gotten back to base, he was once again in thought. He of course tried to snap himself out of it. But, it never did work. He was stuck to thinking of you.

• Eventually, his thoughts drifted from the reasons of why he had spared your group, to you in general.

- Was it how protective you were over your group? Or rather, your children?

- Was it how confident you were in your abilities?

- What was it?

• He couldn’t focus at all after that. It was beginning to make his heart slightly speed up at the thought of what had him entranced by you. He wanted to know what you did to him. You never did lift a finger to do anything remotely hostile other than stand up and glower at him. But there never was anything else. So confusing, you are.

• He couldn’t snap out of it until one of his members had practically called his name out loud enough for the entire room to hear. Oh, right. Everyone was ready to be dismissed by now, done with their conversations. He dismissed them with a small nod before going back to thought. Certain people had caught onto this.

- Wake and Alfred.

• Even if they had shrugged it off after a while of thinking, they were still cautious about it. Their leader was changing. Noah was getting clouded by a single person. Whether it was good or not wasn’t a needed thought, since his obvious distraction could lead to ambushes or attacks in general. They needed to find out, whether that be without permission or not.

• Ensure the stalking.

• They found nothing other than you being a literal boss. Not tolerating anyone’s bullshit, or having to deal with the things your group members do.

- Makes the two think about what Bogey and Mika do on a daily basis to create problems for Noah. It’s an amusing thought, especially since Bogey or Crawl might actually be the ones that start trouble, unintentionally or not. Mika included. She probably gets dragged into it most of the time.

• But what goes on with you and your group members are things Wake and Alfred have no real care for. Oh. You… You already noticed them. Your side eye was atrocious. One second, you were patching up one of the younger members of the group before you immediately side eyed Wake.

• Well… no use in hiding it now.

• So, while he talks to you, with Alfred standing behind him in silence, you seem nothing short of surprised when you hear that you probably drugged Noah or something. Oh, it’s happened before with certain people, and you aren’t surprised when he’s the type to fall for people that have certain care for those they’re in charge of. Or, perhaps falling for those that can know just how much they’re worth.

• Anyhow, you explain whatever happened in the private room, telling them of how you never did anything. That whatever problem Noah was going through was his own.

• No lies were caught in your words before you had walked back to your own group, now leading them away without a problem. Well… maybe it really was Noah’s problem if he had fell for someone like you.

• Well, with him, he might just be getting worse already. With how much he’s thinking of you, it may be better to just see you, yes?

• By the time he does, you’re fully knowledgeable of his feelings towards you. Only one move is enough for him to have his complete attention on you. He honestly doesn’t know what you’re doing to him. It’s both irritating, but he feels as if he’s craving it.

• This time, he just wants to talk in comfort instead of having the warning of getting in an all out war with you. Well, you seem perfectly fine with it.

• He took you to a Shakespeare play lmfao. It wasn’t something you minded. In fact, it may have been entertaining in its own way. However, Noah himself seemed to enjoy it quite a lot, even tearing up from his laughter. Hm. He genuinely enjoys Shakespeare.

• The man is always able to remember which parts go to where with each scene and paragraph.

• After the play, Noah sat you down by a bench, offering you some hard candy. You did take one, and seemed to enjoy it. You had then questioned his liking to Shakespeare. Apparently he read and went to a lot of his plays just to feel better. He’s glad that you didn’t grow too bored of it.

• Next, he wanted you to come with him. You followed him onto a bridge, now being allowed to see a beautiful sight. You two had stayed on that bridge, sitting around in slight silence, or talking about small topics as the sun slowly went down.

• Eventually, the time had come where you had to leave and tend to your own group. Though, before you had gotten up, Noah had called your name, asking if you would like to do something like this again. You seemed to think for a moment. However, you smiled softly, nodding after a minute.

- “Sure thing.”

• That is an absolute win in Noah’s book. So while you leave, he’s left to softly shake from excitement. The heat on his face is unbelievable.

• What shall he do next? Would you like to see more beautiful sights? More plays? Noah may have his eyes peeled for more. But what would you like to do?

• Noah shudders from excitement again before he makes his way back to his own place. The rest from Mother Goose already know how far he’s lost, and probably can’t snap him out of thought this time.

• Day by day, he is getting worse. May or may not disappear for certain periods of time. Some see him with you. Some see him around you, not in your view either.

• Within these times, you and Noah are getting closer, for now, as friends. You’re definitely noticing how bad he’s getting as well, and suggest for him to take care of his own group. Noah seems to stop for a small while.

• His group… Mother Goose… Right… He needs to stop.

• Noah quickly leaves and goes back to base, no matter how much the tug wants him to come back to you. And now, he gets to the work that he has to finish up.

• The rest seemed to be relieved at how he’s tried to change back to normal. They’re now back to messing up order, but… now avoid your group like the plague. Noah always goes silent when it comes to getting rid of you, and avoids the topic.

• Others would suggest it, seeing as how it puts Noah into a different state than his usual, but others see that removing you would be a large problem. By now, you’re already festered within Noah’s mind. It’s taking all he can to not go to you within the moment. So to have you gone in a sense like death would mean that Noah might shut down.

• In the end, they just decide to narrow things down, and remove the lower groups. And the more they go, the more they realize that Noah wasn’t the same at all. He’s still plagued by thoughts of you, but he’s trying to do work. It feels as if it’s killing him just to do more of this.

• With hesitation, Wake just says to go see you. Noah doesn’t need anything else, and leaves without a word.

• The members soon found out that as long as he sees you and knows you’re safe before a certain amount of tasks, he’ll be fine. So, that’s what they have to go with.

• Some decided to stalk him to see if it really was good enough to let him do this. He truly did look happy with you.

- But that’s where his darker traits are coming in. From time to time, some do see someone messing with you. Naturally, you don’t take that bullshit, taking control of the situation rather easily within the snap of a finger. However, Noah doesn’t let that go.

• After you two are done with your small hang out, that person that picked on you is gone. Noah is gone as well. But with what his group members see, Noah takes it upon himself to put the person down through brutal means.

• Even if that means speaking to the person mid torture session, and smiling at them with some blood on his face. By the time this man is done, he’s ready to do more assignments in destroying order. So, he calls the others out, and follows them along.

• Even they start questioning if what they’re allowing him to do is right. If leaving you alive is the right suggestion. Even so, how would they get Noah to normal? Through time? Or force? No. He’d lose his place as a leader, and wouldn’t get better. If they would want him to get better, the right move would be to join forces. No matter how much they wouldn’t like the others in your group.

• They make the suggestion to Noah, seeing him look back at them. He seems to think back on it for a few moments.

- Truly, it may just create more problems if your group members decide to come over for something. But would he really tolerate that for you? Maybe? Maybe not? Honestly, he really only likes you, and has no care for anything else aside from his own group. So, perhaps not. Only if you request it.

• Noah declines, and keeps moving on. Even if he did want to connect groups on the chance that all of them may get along with each other, the problems that would occur might just make things worse for him and you, causing you two to break off. He doesn’t need that.

• So, he decides to stay silent about things.

• Now, you don’t mind Noah coming over. Not at all, whether for business or for fun. (Which is usually the latter.) However, seeing him on the certain day of where he had killed someone’s in private just to make sure they didn’t mess with you, he seemed to make a slight change from there.

• If anyone dared to mess with you, they would get the simple dark stare from Noah that would seal their fate right then and there. You, already catching onto this, had stopped him before he could leave, telling him not to do anything to the guy that had bothered you two. However, Noah had replied with something that had you slightly weirded out.

- “Why let him go when he messed with the one I consider as the one I love?”

• The smile he had given you had slightly widened as he loosened your grip on his arm, and now gripped your own hand with his.

- “You don’t need to take care of them. I can. Simply telling them off won’t do any good, so I want to solidify something. A message that can have any man that tried to approach you a good piece of knowledge. No matter how brutal I will have to get, I will make sure it stays in their heads, as clear as day. I won’t be tolerating anyone that tries to touch or do anything to you.”

• He had then let go of your hand, now making his way off. Well, that was clearly a red sign-

• Well, the next day, Noah didn’t show, allowing for you to stay in peace for a small while. It’s not exactly often that you get silence, since Noah is always with you.

• Well, he still is. Maybe just a bit far away.

• Yeah. He’s still here- He calls it “making sure you’re safe”. Well, not like you know yet. But from how he was acting, it’s to be expected.

• By now, the feeling is burning him alive. He does know he loves you, and just can’t let go. He aches for the feeling of knowing you love him too. You know he kills people since the both of you are dark organization leaders. So… why did you want to protect the men that tried to go after you?

• Well, if keeping you safe was what he needed to do, he’d do it by any means necessary.

• You’ll catch him soon enough. He knows it, and he’ll accept it as the point of where he won't let you go. Whether it means hiding it for a small while or not. Not that it matters, since he has you in his grasp anyways.

[waterfallfantastico]

THE WITCH’S TOWER

(A high-fantasy wg romp) 

Chapter One- The Brilliant Plan

“Come on Hexatrix, you’ve got to help meee!” Princess Isadora whined, kicking her feet in the air. “It’s just not fair…”

Hexatrix Crumm, handmaiden and witch of the ninth order, watched her sworn charge flail about on her titanic bed. She had known the princess since they were both fourteen and it was fascinating what Isadora could be discontented with. The girl was in a giant pink bed, with silk sheets and a tasteful mural of naked angels on her ceiling. This chamber by itself was bigger than the house Hexatrix grew up in. 

“As your royal witch, I’m sworn to always help you.” Hexatrix chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. “But what do you really want me to do? Turn him into a frog?”

“YES!” 

“No…” Hexatrix groaned. “That would cause an international incident, your majesty.”  

For all the gold and perfume and silk that surrounded Isadora, there was always some price to be paid. The castle had larders full of every food imaginable, but the princess had to remain on a strict diet. Her parents had horses and ships, but Isadora was rarely permitted to leave the castle grounds. They had libraries stocked full of books, but all her tutors taught her was manners and etiquette. There was always a price to be paid… and this time the price was marriage. 

By royal decree, Princess Isadora of the kingdom of Istrius was to marry prince Kenneth of Borgonia on her twenty-first birthday. 

“It’s less than a year away!” Isadora wailed, her ink-black hair falling over eyes. “I don’t want to get married…”

“I’m sure it won’t be so bad?” Hexatrix tried, half-heartedly.

“He’s the worst. He spends his weekends fox-hunting and killing all sorts of other cute creatures. He says women shouldn’t be able to read or own property. And he thinks all magic should be outlawed!”

“What a perfect asshole.” Hexatrix sighed. “But I’m still not turning him into a frog.” 

“Come on. You have a plan, don’t you Hex?” Isadora said, resting pouty lips on dainty hands.

When Princess Isadora was unwell, it was Hexatrix’s job to fix it. Solutions for headaches, acne, broken bones and bad weather all fell to her. But she felt a commitment to look out for Isadora’s emotions as much as her body.

“I always have a plan.” The Witch said with a confident smile. “Let me go get my broom.”

+ + + + +

Deep in the Tanglethorn Woods, on the border of Istrius, stands a solitary tower. Very few people have ever seen the tower and almost nobody has been inside of it. The tower is sixty feet high and made of sheer stone. Most remarkably, it has no door at its base. It has no flags, no banners and no markings of any kind. The only way in (or out) of this tower is a solitary window on the top floor. This tower still stands and can be found (if you know where to look), but in those days it was ‘owned’ by the witch Hexatrix Crumm.  

At the stroke of midnight two figures on a broomstick slid across the moon, over the clouds and through the tower’s open window. 

“Damn, it’s dark in here.” Hex muttered, fumbling for her lantern.

There was the scratch of a match, and orange light bloomed throughout the circular room. The tower was a homey clutter, with big bookshelves and workbenches covered in crumpled papers. Posters of old country fairs were plastered on all the walls, and a massive blue banner hung from the high roof. On the far right corner was a fluffy bed with a checkerboard quilt, and on the left was a cozy kitchenette.

“Hex, wow…” Isadora breathed. “This place is amazing. I can’t believe you’ve never brought me here before.”

“It pays to keep a few secrets. My little home-away-from-home. Or castle, I suppose. And it’s all yours, for now.” Hex chuckled. 

“Is your plan to just kidnap me away?” Isadora said with a wink. 

“Of course not, your highness!” Hexatrix said quickly. “No, never. This is where you’ll hide out for a few weeks while we find you a new husb… find you your soulmate.”

A dreamy smile played over Isadora’s lips. “Go on, Hex.” 

“Well, it’s very simple. You go missing from the castle, and everyone assumes you’ve run away or been kidnapped. Classic princess stuff.”

“Classic.” 

“After not finding you for a week or so, your parents will start to freak out. They’ll offer gold and then jewels… and then the big prize: Your hand in marriage to whoever can rescue you. I’ll go looking for your perfect match, and they can be the one to bring you home safe and sound. You can make up some story about them slaying a troll or dragon or whatever and live happily ever after. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that.” Isadora repeated. “So! What do I get to do while all this intrigue is going on?”

Hex blinked and pinched the bridge of her nose. Princess Isadora had many fabulous features. Beautiful and alluring features, even, but the girl was made for dreams and not schemes. 

“You stay here.” Said the Witch slowly. 

“Aw, the whole time?” Isadora pouted. 

“Yes!” Hex sighed. “You need to stay out of sight. No one can see you or the whole plan goes up in flames. Trust me, you’ll be comfy.”

Hex lit another lantern and took Isadora on a quick tour of her tower. The top floor, the one they were on, was the loft. It had the bed, the kitchen, plenty of tables and most of the books in the building. 

“The fun books, anyway.” Hex waved a hand. “I have all my encyclopedias stored in the vault to keep them dry. Feel free to read whatever you like.” 

Isadora stooped down and took out a tattered paperback, with an image of two muscular orc women embracing on the cover. The title read, in gold ink, ‘Broken Tusks, Promises Kept’. Hexatrix tried not to blush.

“This looks well-loved.” Isadora said, softly. 

“Annd down this stairwell is the workshop. On with the tour!”

The workshop was even more cluttered, with odd bits of junk and art everywhere. Beakers, solutions, herbs, oil paints, easels and brushes were all over the place. 

“Feel free to paint if you like, but here’s the real deal.” 

Hex steered the Princes to a crystal ball on a pedestal. 

“If you get bored, you can watch demonic wrestling on here. Bill Z. Bub is facing the Abyss Twins this weekend in an Venetian death-match.”

“How…lovely?” Said Isadora, who knew nothing about demonic wrestling.

The floor below that, the terrarium, was the least cluttered so far. The rows of ferns and ficuses were neat and organized, manicured with a hand absent in the first two floors. Strange rocks in the ceiling gave off light that could resemble the sun or the moon. A magic watering can floated around the green space, seemingly ever full as it sprinkled the plants below it.

“Feel free to bring a chair down here if you want a bit more light.” Hex shrugged. “The floor below is my vault, but that's just a bunch of old boring books. So, that’s my tower. I trust you’ll be quite comfortable.”

“Hang on a minute.” Isadora crossed her arms. “What about food? Or if I have to… you know, pee or something?” 

“There’s a bathroom in the kitchen. And speaking of kitchen…”

Hexatrix brought them back up to the loft, and went rummaging in her wand cabinet. 

“Wand of marbles, no that’s not right… Wand of illusions, I’ll need that for later… ah, here we are!” 

Hex took out what looked like a cooking spoon made of cherrywood and offered it to Isadora. 

“Am I… supposed to eat that?” Isadora chuckled. 

“No, dummy. It’s a Wand of Feasting. Just think of a food and give it a wave.”

Hexatrix gave the wand a twist and, in a flurry of purple sparks, a single piece of buttered toast appeared in her hand.

“See?” Hex passed over the spoon, as she stuffed the toast in her mouth. “It works for drinks too. Alright, I have to get back before dawn or they’ll get suspicious. I’ll return the next day or so to check up on you.” 

“Alright. You be safe.” Isadora leaned in close and gave Hexatrix a peck on the cheek. “For luck.” 

Hexatrix struggled to contain the blush that crept up her neck, and could think of nothing more to say. She flew out the window like a whisper on the wind.

For the first time in seven years, Princess Isadora slept in. It was past noon when she finally kicked off the quilt and rose. There were no ladies-in-waiting to dress her, no pages badgering her about appointments. It was heaven on earth. 

She took a long bath and then relaxed amongst the plants. The watering can seemed to notice her, and bobbed around her like an airborne puppy. Isadora had a lovely time chatting with a garden tool that couldn’t talk back. When she returned to the loft for more books, the sun had almost set.

“Oh, I should eat something.” Isadora muttered, as her empty belly groaned. 

She waltzed over to the kitchen, where the Wand of Feasting had been left. She picked it up and held it at arm's length, as if it might explode at any moment. 

“Okay wand… garden salad with carrots?” Isadora said, asking for her usual dinner. 

In a flash of sparks a bowl filled with greens, tomatoes and carrots appeared on the table. Isadora sat down to dig in, but hesitated as she speared her first forkful. She looked at the wand. 

“This thing can make me… anything?” The Princess muttered, picking up the wand again. 

A litany of food began running through Isadora’s mind. It had been two years since she’d had roast chicken. Three years since she had mashed potatoes with butter. She couldn’t remember when she last had onion soup with cheese melted on top. The princess closed her eyes as memories of a chocolate cake she had at her tenth birthday washed into her memory.

It was moist and rich, with sugary cream and a custard filling. There were iced roses on top and a spun-sugar finch on top. The taste of it had her walking on air for the next three days…

Isadora opened her eyes. On the table was now a roast chicken, mashed potatoes with butter, onion soup, and an exact replica of her chocolate birthday cake. 

“Okay. Yeah. Well done wand." She said meekly. 

Isadora was trying to keep her breath even, the saliva in her mouth and her hunger in check. An insatiable ape of hunger, locked away for far too long, railed against the prison bars of temperance. For a moment, the discipline that had kept her willowy held. Then the smell hit her. The divine, warm smell of the feast. 

With all the dignity of a shipwrecked man, she threw herself on the food. Tears of pure joy flowed down her swollen cheeks. She shoved in as much as she could and never stopped chewing. When her fingers ran slick with butter or grease, she wiped them on her royal gown without a second thought. Bits of food soon covered the table around her, but Isadora paid them no heed. She was only focused on the intoxicating meal.

After thirty minutes of non-stop wolfing the princess leaned back and groaned. She was stuffed to the gills, a sensation that felt completely foreign to her. She had devoured half the chicken, massacred most of the potatoes, finished the soup and had two thick slices of the cake. The salad sat untouched. 

“Okay. That was…urp- that was great. Wand, magic away this delicious food.” 

Isadora waved the Wand of Feasting, but the feast remained. 

“Oh. Hmm.”

She tried again, more vigorously. The food stayed exactly where it was. 

“Um, okay.” Isadora thought furiously. “This will all go bad quickly and there’s no place to store it... I guess I could eat a little more.”

Absent-mindedly, she pulled to loosen the drawstring on her bodice. The relief in her gut was deeply welcome.

“Ohh, that’s better. Now back to that cake…”

The next hour was hazy at best for Isadora, as she made her way through the rest of the meal. She seemed to swim in and out of consciousness as more chicken and chocolate was crammed into her mouth. Uncertain of exactly how much she’d eaten, the princess did remember pushing herself away from the table, staggering to bed with her bulging gut in her hands, and collapsing beneath the sheets. Sleep took her instantly and held her under for hours.

When she awoke the next afternoon, the pain in her midsection had thankfully since subsided. Whether it was luck or a side-effect of the magic food, Isadora suffered no indigestion. She simply felt warm and full. It was a pleasant surprise, but when she looked at the kitchen table she was in for a shock. Every plate was empty, each dish devoured to completion. All that was left was the bones of the chicken and a wrinkly piece of lettuce. 

“Woof.” Isadora sighed, resting a hand on her still-swollen stomach. “I’m gonna have to be careful with you.”

She picked up the Wand of Feasting from where it had fallen on the floor, and felt her gut press up against her slender thigh. 

“Real careful. Okay.” She composed herself and gave it a quick flick. “Just an orange to start the day.”

The orange appeared. It looked very small and lonely. 

“And maybe an omelet.” She muttered. “With something healthy. Mushrooms. Peppers. Oh, and a little cheese. And a piece of toast. With butter. And another piece of toast with jam. And some blueberries. Ooh, and a blueberry scone would be nice. And if I’m having that I could try some blueberry pancakes. Oh and…”

It took Princess Isadora a whole two whole hours to finish breakfast, at which point she went right back to bed. The mattress groaned comfortingly upon her return.

[iventmodel]

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Course Offerings: Edureka offers comprehensive Informatica MDM courses designed to provide in-depth knowledge and hands-on experience.

Key Features: Courses come with live instructor-led sessions, 24/7 support, and real-life project work.

User Reviews: Students appreciate the interactive sessions and the immediate support from instructors.

Simplilearn Informatica MDM Courses

Course Offerings: Simplilearn provides a structured learning path for Informatica MDM, including self-paced learning and instructor-led training.

Key Features: The platform offers blended learning, industry-recognized certification, and real-world projects.

User Reviews: Reviews often mention the detailed curriculum and the quality of the learning materials.

Pluralsight Informatica MDM Courses

Course Offerings: Pluralsight offers specialized courses on Informatica MDM, catering to both beginners and advanced learners.

Key Features: The platform includes skill assessments, hands-on labs, and a library of on-demand courses.

User Reviews: Users praise the comprehensive nature of the courses and the practical exercises provided.

How to Choose the Right Course for You

Choosing the right course depends on various factors such as your current skill level, learning preferences, and career goals. Consider the following when selecting a course:

Course Content: Ensure the course covers all necessary topics and offers practical exercises.

Instructor Expertise: Look for courses taught by experienced professionals.

Certification: Check if the course provides a recognized certification.

Reviews and Ratings: Read user reviews to gauge the course's effectiveness.

Tips for Succeeding in Online Informatica MDM Training

Succeeding in online training requires discipline and strategic planning. Here are some tips to help you along the way:

Time Management: Allocate specific time slots for study and stick to them.

Practice Regularly: Apply what you learn through hands-on exercises and projects.

Utilize Resources: Make use of community forums, study groups, and additional learning resources.

Certification and Beyond

Earning a certification in Informatica MDM Cloud SaaS is a significant achievement. It validates your skills and can open doors to advanced career opportunities. Here are the steps to get certified:

Choose a Certification: Select a certification that aligns with your career goals.

Prepare Thoroughly: Utilize online courses, study guides, and practice exams.

Schedule the Exam: Register for the certification exam and choose a convenient date.

Pass the Exam: Apply your knowledge and pass the exam to earn your certification.

Case Studies of Successful Informatica MDM Professionals

Real-world examples can be highly motivating. Here are a few case studies of professionals who have successfully mastered Informatica MDM and advanced their careers:

Case Study 1: John Doe, a data analyst, leveraged his Informatica MDM skills to become a data manager at a leading tech firm.

Case Study 2: Jane Smith transitioned from a junior IT role to a senior data governance position after completing an Informatica MDM certification.

FAQs

What is the best course for beginners? The best course for beginners typically includes a comprehensive introduction to Informatica MDM, such as those offered on Coursera or Udemy.

How long does it take to master Informatica MDM Cloud SaaS? The time required varies based on individual pace and prior experience, but typically ranges from a few months to a year.

Is certification necessary to get a job? While not always mandatory, certification significantly boosts your job prospects and credibility.

Can I learn Informatica MDM Cloud SaaS without a technical background? Yes, many courses are designed for beginners and provide the foundational knowledge needed to understand and use Informatica MDM Cloud SaaS.

What are the costs associated with these courses? Course costs vary by platform and course level, ranging from free options to several hundred dollars for more advanced and comprehensive training.

Conclusion

Mastering Informatica MDM Cloud SaaS can significantly enhance your career prospects and professional growth. With the right training and dedication, you can become an expert in managing critical data assets. Start your learning journey today by choosing a course that fits your needs and goals.

I hope you are having a wonderful day! I have a

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 23: on cloud nine

Gan was never leaving Solution Nine. She’d decided; this was where she was going to live until Sphene literally kicked her out. There was just...just so much. Of everything. Lights, colors, sounds. Strange new food ans delicious drinks. Machines she could barely even fathom the use of, made of materials she hadn’t even known existed—materials which, for all she knew, didn’t exist anywhere but the shard Alexandria had once called home. She could bring Theo and West Wind! There was definitely enough space for a dog and a horse. And Sphene was so nice and welcoming!

Oh, Gan wasn’t stupid enough to trust the woman. But she was willing to forgive a lot if it meant she could get her hands on some electrope—even an onze—to work with. It really seemed to be a miracle stone, and then the Alexandrians had augmented it with arcane circuitry to create some sort of...further miracle. Miracle, squared. Rita was more interested in the circuitry, and was delivering a veritable barrage of questions at Genolt; Gan completely understood the enthusiasm, but there was only so much theorizing she could take. She wanted to get her hands on something’s metal guts.

She found it in True Vue, where an open flat space—Tiber called it a parking garage—was filled with Solution Nine air-wheelers and other vehicles. One of them was hovering two feet off the ground, the better for the mechanic to touch odd metal implements to the circuits on the undercarriage. An assistant stood next to her head, doing something to the handlebars.

Gan drifted closer. She attracted stares, of course—she’d seen no other Au Ra at all in Solution Nine, and the local population plainly had no idea what to make of her—but she ignored it. She just needed a closer look at that air-wheeler.

“Can I help you,” said the mechanic’s assistant.

It wasn’t a question, and was promptly answered by the mechanic sliding out from under the air-wheeler and smacking him in the ankle. “Idiot,” they hissed, “that’s one of the Queen’s guests!”

The assistant paled and stammered an apology, but Gan was too busy staring at the mechanic. She’d never seen this person—Hyune, pink buzzcut, golden skin, red eyes—in her life, but there was something bizarrely familiar about them. Before she could think what it was, though, they were waving at her. “Hey there, miss! What’s the matter?”

She scratched at the base of her horn before answering. Gods, what a time t’ have sent Al off with an order for more energy drinks. “Don’t wanna put you out, or anythin’, but...I’m somethin’ of a tinkerer back ‘ome, an’ when I saw these air-wheelers—well. I had t’ know more.”

“Oh! Is that all?” Now the mechanic was grinning, and even at an angle where she was looking more or less straight up their nose Gan had to admit they were looking really familiar. “Pull up a wheely board, this’s a fast repair and I’ve gotta fill time somehow. I’ll show you what’s what!”

It took a moment to sink in. Then her brain lit up, and she dropped to the mechanic’s side with a whoop.

By the time Alan swung by, bag of drink cans in hand, she was crackling faintly with leftover levin aether, her tail hurt from being in a weird position all that time, and she was grinning like an idiot. She’d found out the mechanic was Spinel and their assistant was Perspica—something, he’d said she could call him Percy—and they’d both been working at this tiny shop for years, fixing all sorts of passenger vehicles. And once Percy found out she was normal and not about to tell Sphene on him, he was actually pretty enthusiastic about showing her how the propulsion and phase shift mechanics worked.

Alan, of course, stopped when he saw them. “What’s going on?”

Gan beamed at him. “Wanna learn how an air-wheeler works?”

“...Gan, if I ever say no to that question, assume I’ve been possessed.”

They wound up going through a few of those energy drinks themselves. Gan never did figure out why her brain was insisting she knew Spinel so well, but it was so much less important than the air-wheeler. Spinel’s boss even came out to offer them both jobs for the day when he saw Alan fixing the sputtering exhaust port, which neither of them were about to turn down. They might be in Solution Nine for a while, after all. Credits wouldn’t hurt.

As they broke for snacks, she mused that, though she knew she wouldn’t really stay here—she knew she’d go mad with longing for grass under her feet soon enough—it was a wonderful place to visit.