#how much should a hack like this cost?

[melaniepilled]

tumblr dot com please give me some directions on how to hire a hacker... i lost the password to a google account and cant access anything i had used it for, I didn't even set up a recovery... please please please help me out.

[omnomnomdomcaps]

All Game No Life (Remastered)

Another Halloween, another lovely opportunity to explore the bewitching, twisted, and the spooky of ab/dl fiction. This one was a collab with @drdaddy19, who you should totally check out!

To the adoring viewers, she was the legendary Kamiya254, a strategy-minded master of simulation, role-playing, and puzzle games. In reality, she was Steff, a dean’s list college student and star track athlete. And Steff was bored.  

She had conquered all the popular titles, besting many of her rival streamers - and never letting them forget it. But wanted a new challenge, and so she asked her followers for a suggestion - something deep and immersive, something she'd never seen before. And luckily, one of them had just the pick. 

From the moment she started Doctor D's Infinite Playground, Steff was impressed by the colorful aesthetic and creative level designs. The puzzles were wacky, the world was full of rich detail, and the play was simple and addictive. There was just one problem - her character sucked. 

Steff was baffled. How was she supposed to navigate through the world and solve puzzles with a character that couldn't even walk, or talk to the NPCs? Did she really have to crawl through every level? So she asked her follower for help - the same one who suggested the game - and he delivered. 

It all came down, he pointed out, to a hidden menu for character customization, and Steff was stunned when she saw how easy it looked. There was no request for payment, no gold or gems or progress required. All it took was a simple press of an "Upgrade" button with a large red "WARNING!" underneath it. 

It seemed too good to be true. And sure enough, when she pressed it, the girl felt an electric shock. 

"Well, this is new," she remarked, trying to shake off the odd sensation. Somehow, though, it only made the game seem more intriguing, and if that was all she had to pay to upgrade, it seemed like a great deal. And so, Steff brushed off her dull headache as the result of too much playing, and pressed on with her powered-up character, easing through the next few levels as she was finally able to move around comfortably and gather information from the other characters. 

That night, she bought herself a stuffed animal. She didn't know why - it just felt right. 

Steff was completely hooked. She kept upgrading, zooming through levels as her character gained ability after ability, learning to jump, drive, swim, and even sneak around undetected in the game world. All the while, her pile of stuffies grew, and her bedroom transformed from a simple gaming den to a pink and pastel wonderland. 

Of course, as she was quickly becoming incapable of realizing, the boosts in her character’s abilities and intelligence were coming at the cost of her own. As she went deeper and deeper into the game, she started to falter at those track meets she once dominated, finishing 4th, then 10th, then last. Her grades, once top of her class, began to plummet. And her commentary, once full of powerful strategic insight, turned to clueless, childish babble - something her viewers seemed to enjoy tremendously.

By the time she reached Level 38, Steff had to drop out of school altogether, unable to keep up with what her professors were saying. She chalked it up to the time she spent playing, but it didn't matter to her anyway - she had always dreamed of being a full-time streamer, and her follower count was booming.

By level 63, though, the girl was even struggling with getting her console set up. Luckily, a follower volunteered to come over and help her- the same one who told her about the character upgrade hack, the very same one who suggested she buy the game in the first place. The old Steff would never be so naive as to invite over a complete stranger like that, but she had fallen far from the old Steff. 

Her character’s stats and skills were through the roof, but the game’s puzzles were giving her headaches. Even when her chat seemed to insist they were simple challenges that small children could solve, Steff found herself baffled, and if any numbers were involved she would simply give up. Pumping more stats into her character seemed to be her only option, but she swore off the upgrade button after her regular electric shock on level 81 caused her to wet herself suddenly, leaking through her pants in front of all her viewers (who seemed to eat it up).   

Her new friend, though, was more than happy to help, guiding “Steffie,” as he called her, along through the play, reading and explaining text on screen to her, and always checking to make sure she remembered to go potty while streaming. And when he noticed that she kept trying to play one-handed because of a thumb-sucking habit she developed, he was even nice enough to find a pacifier for her to use. She started calling him Daddy, and he seemed to enjoy that. 

And then, she reached level 96. Even with a character capable of flying, punching through walls, and reading minds, it seemed she had no way of breaking through. Frustrated, Steffie banged her fists against her bed, bawling as her chat gawked at her tantrum. But as her daddy pointed out, it seemed the only way forward would be to max out her character completely. 

And so, Steffie went to the hidden menu, and clicked the “Upgrade” button one last time.   

In an instant, everything went blank. The girl spent several minutes sitting on her bed in a stupor, sucking rhythmically on her pacifier as the last remnants of her intelligence were sapped away into the game. When it was done, she collapsed onto the bed in a heap, toppling over her tall can of iced tea in the process. Two puddles immediately formed - one around the can, that had spilled onto the carpet below, and the other around the bottom of Steffie’s short blue dress, as her new lack of potty control made itself readily apparent to her viewers. 

She would keep playing after that - sort of. Her daddy worked through the levels for her, while Steffie just sat and watched, oohing and aahing at the flashing colors. By then, she was nothing more than an oversized infant - she had forgotten how to read, how to count, how to walk and how to talk. She would often giggle as she mindlessly filled her diapers on stream, bouncing and squishing on the bed while her daddy finished each new level. 

But her character? Her character was unstoppable.

****

Image Credit: LittleforBig (IG)

Model: Mercurial Mouse

This picture has been modified from its original version

[elden-hicks]

A note for the fellow strugglers in TS1

Hey, it's Seth! I know how frustrating TS1 can be (considering it's age and being the first game in the franchise), so I am here to introduce a list of personal must have mods and programs, which I always use whenever I re-install the game to make it more user-friendly. The list itself is quite short, actually, since it only consists of my personal gameplay choice mods. So there's no building objects, deco, skins and heads there.

MODS AND CC

This calendar will report the day of the month to your sims and -- and this is amazing -- even introduce a concept of days off. Sims should have about every 6th and 7th day off. - THE ABSOLUTE MUST HAVE. It's in the painting section and costs 15 simoleons. Works a bit wonky with children, but otherwise a very useful mod to have.

Call work/give interview job phone plugins to give your sim a day off. - I use those mostly when sims have to take care of the baby.

A family mod by Gothi_family_4ever. - another must have in my collection, introduces the familial relationships in game! No more inappropriate relationships between relatives. It's a 0 simoleon painting, which you can delete once you've done.

A hacked frigde mod by the same author. - allows your sims to put their food into the refrigirator, call the household members for the meal, and requires the usage of products (like meat and in-game vegetables) in order to cook a dish instead of insta-paying. You kinda have to build a grocery shop for your sims, so they could buy the required products, I prefer to install the stalls into the pre-existing farm shop in Old Town area. P.S DON'T FORGET TO READ THE INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE INSTALLING BEFORE DRAGGING ANY FILE. As much as I love this mod, I don't, for example, use their cereal add-on.

The Elixir ExpressiBuy Computer. - a computer that allows you to buy any in-game buyable product (like vacation gifts, grocery, tonics, etc etc) in stock. They won't magically appear overnight but would be brought by a special courier npc. It also allows your sim to research logic, creativity, culinary and mechanical skills. I'd also recommend diving further into their site, since they have a lot of cool and unique gameplay content as well!

MagiCo's Bookshelf of Dimensional Storage - the official Maxis item, that was in the 'Get Cool Stuff' section. Allows your sims to keep their magic coins and ingrediends in special bookshelf storage, I mostly use it so the kids could get the ingredients for their spells from the adults. It is in the Magic section, btw

The Magic Mirror - the only outright cheat object that I have in my possesion. This mirror refreshes your sims needs, builds skills, friends, stardom, etc. Saves headaches when you are not in the mood to fullfill your sims' mood, ha-ha.

PROGRAMS

SimEnchancer 3D - basically a program that allows you to change the basic sim's attributes, including their heads and bodytypes. If you are familiar with TS2's SimPE, you'd have the idea how it works. NOTE: if you have to run your TS1 game as an administrator, you'd have to open it up in the same vein as well. And don't forget to backup your UserData files when you are working with it, just in case!

The Sims Creator - the official Maxis program for players to create some basic skins content. The program is only suitable to work with head and skins textures and not the meshes! Likewise, if you have to open the game as an administrator, you'd have to do the same with that program.

NEIGHBORHOODS

This section for the fellow premade enjoyers out there, who mostly played TS2 before and decided to give the local premades a chance as well

Here you can download the original UserData 1 and 2 if you want to reset your neigborhoods as they were if you had already played the neighborhood before and want to start anew. The Sims Wiki also gives you an instruction for how to do so.

And here you can download the additional Maxis families like The Hatfield, The Maximus, The Mashuga, The Snooty, The Jones and that weird agent White House familes. For some reasons, some of them refused to function in my game, so I had to install the empty houses and recreate them by hand, using the SimEnchancer and Wikia to give them appropriate skills and careers.

OTHER

Sims 1 Alternative UI - refreshes your game by a margin. I really recomend this one!

Well, that's basically it! I hope, my list would help you as well!

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - IX

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics gif from pinterest, wick art from pinterest, prtty sure its AI, OPs unknown lemme kno

9. and be saved

You are left starstruck and gaping, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, when Constantine finally pulls back from the absolute claiming of your mouth, his dark gaze boring into you like he either wants to fuck you, or strangle you. 

Maybe both, considering. 

“After all this, that’s what you think?” he snarls. 

A low growl reminds you both of the danger not far enough away. “And why wouldn’t she, after the way you’ve treated her, you stupid boy?” snarls Wick, his accent thickening in his anger. “Stop touching her.”

You jab a finger in the dhampir’s direction, putting yourself between them again. “This doesn’t mean you own me, buster, don’t get comfortable.” 

The dhampir grumbles deep in his chest at this, glaring blue daggers at Constantine, but he stops his stalking advance. He seems to have enough self-control to weigh the consequences of breaking his promise not to hurt the man you obviously care about (for whatever reason he cannot understand), over the rewards of the deal you made. If he is patient, he will get what he wants. That should concern you, but at the moment you have one thing on your mind. You dare to turn back to your first beau, far from happy. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snap. 

“I told you that I like you!” 

“Are we in third grade?”

“It sure fucking feels like it!” he snarls, then starts coughing uncontrollably; horrible, racking hacks that convulse his whole body. 

You see the flash of blood on his sleeve. He is literally coughing up his lungs, and your heart breaks all over again. You try to help brace him, and he tries to hold you away. Finally fed up with his nonsense, you use your superior strength to best him, supporting him while trying to send energy to him through the bond to soothe him. 

Naturally, you find that goddammed brick wall erected between you again. You are so frustrated this time that you pound a metaphysical fist against it. At last it gives, and you push all that wonderful strength you went out in the first place to collect down the line to John. Life, for lack of a better word, and he closes his eyes as it washes through him, leaning on you heavily. 

It almost feels too good, and his relief naturally mixes with his native suspicion. He realizes he doesn’t actually remember what it feels like, to experience even the vaguest semblance of true health.   

“Shit,” he rasps, leaning against you, his face buried in your hair. 

You know they say that still waters run deep, but you still don’t understand the point of him hiding from you. Maybe there is no good reason, and maybe you’ll never truly understand. Even with your arms full of Constantine, you remain painfully aware of the lurking dhampir watching you, too close for comfort. 

What have you done?

When you draw back to look at John, the only word you can think to describe his expression is agony. In turn, you somehow feel relieved and wretched and angry, all at once. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper desperately. “Why couldn't you just tell me?”

“I did,” he answers, and maybe he thinks that's true, but he'd practically spoken in code and it's not your fault that you didn't understand. 

You should just tell him your side too, you reason. You've wasted so much time, and he's dying, and did you really hold back just because you were afraid he would laugh at you? You open your mouth, intending to get it out no matter what the cost, when Wick interrupts coldly, “This is very touching. But I didn’t come here to watch you two canoodle.” 

“I don’t give a fu—” 

You cut Constantine off before he can enrage the dhampir again. “He came here to help us,” you insist. “Come upstairs.”

“This asshole only knows how to help himself,” grouses the man in your arms, and you know he is glaring at Wick over your head. “I don’t trust him.” 

“Fine. Come talk to the vampire he brought us, then we can kick him out.” 

Wick snorts at that. “He can try.”

“You promised me,” you dare to remind the vampire hunter, even if there is a quaver in your voice. 

“As you promised me,” Wick counters right back, offering a mocking little bow with his hand over his heart and a heat in his eyes that involuntarily curls your toes.

Dear God. What have you gotten yourself into?

Constatine’s grip on your hip tightens to the point of bruising, had you still been human. You can hear him grinding his teeth, and you have to stop yourself from laughing or crying with exasperation. This man. Maybe you do have a screw loose. You should kick him in the balls for the way he’d treated you, but all you really want to do is wrap him up in your arms, and cloister yourselves away from the world for a very long time. 

Unfortunately, time is not something you have right now.

♰♰♰

Does the Geneva Convention apply to vampires? 

You're sure what Wick did to the vamp he’d captured is at least immoral, if not downright illegal. And yet, you know this sycophant of don Juan’s was no innocent. You find it hard to feel sorry for him.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to get the injured vamp to spill the beans. He’s already scared shitless of Wick, and adding Constantine only makes him talk faster in hope of some mercy. You doubt he’s going to get it, or maybe but only in the form of a quick death. 

He tells you all that don Juan has had a bone to pick with the High Table for years. Squabbles over power, jurisdiction, and of course, money, resenting the steep tithe he’s had to pay as a matter of course. He formulated a plan to overthrow them, by somehow involving the Son of Satan to wipe the slate clean with a new reign of Hell on Earth. With the exception, of course, that Juan continues to rule in L.A.

Constantine keeps shaking his head in disbelief, now seated at the head of the kitchen table. Wick has taken the seat at the opposite end, and you lean with your arms crossed against the sink, lowkey ready to intervene if they go after each other again. Maybe you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you sense the peace between them is tenuous at best no matter what Wick promised you.  

“It’s like going after a roach problem in your house with a nuclear bomb,” gripes Constantine. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

Wick shrugs. “I will kill him. You kill the demons. Problem solved.”

Constantine snorts at that. “Yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Is it not?”

“It never is with these assholes. When I deport them they return to their realm, but they don’t die. They could just keep trying, unless we really figure out what they're up to.”

“How do we do that?”

John lights a cigarette, ignoring you as you glare at him, the big idiot. He blows a cloud of smoke into the air, staring at the cracked plaster of the ceiling like it holds the answer key. 

“I gotta use the chair.”

“At Midnite’s?” 

You have no idea what John’s talking about, but Wick seems to. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you use it to find where Juan’s hiding? He’s gone to ground like the rat he is. It would save me time.” 

“Maybe. It’s…unpredictable.” 

“I might be able to find him,” you admit reluctantly, staring down at your bare feet. 

Both pairs of dark eyes turn towards you. “How?” they echo each other, almost eerily similar in that moment. 

“The last time you fed me…” you say to John, your cheeks warming with the memory. “Afterwards, I kind of…surfed around the city, while you slept. In my head, I mean. But not…” 

Wick is impressed by this, an eyebrow lifting, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly. John, however, gives you a hard look. “You just…went frolicking around on the astral plane, huh? Do you know how dangerous that can be?”

You laugh, for once more amused than miffed by John’s irritation with you. It helps, that now you’re starting to suspect it comes from a place of caring, rather than contempt. Not that you can tell through the bond now. He’s re-built his walls between you, twice as high and twice as thick as they were before. You know he has more experience with this psychic stuff than you do, but it seems unfair. 

“Well, I did it, and I found Juan. He felt it too. He hit me with something. It woke you up.”

“Yeah. I remember that.” 

You shrug. “I could probably do it again.”

John ashes his cigarette with a flick into an overflowing dish, staring at the reflection in the green glass. “It took a little more than blood to invoke power like that.” Your ears feel like they’re on fire, and how ridiculous is it, that even undead you still can blush?

You dare to meet his eyes, and find a matching warmth therein. It’s his only tell.

“I can give you blood, malyshka,” offers Wick, breaking the heavy silence in the kitchen. “And whatever else you need.” You hate it, that just the thought makes a spear of warmth shoot straight to your loins. 

Constantine narrows his eyes at the vampire hunter, pointing with the smoldering cigarette. “You can keep your cursed blood to yourself, dhampir.”    

“I am not cursed.” 

“No, but you’re a helluva traitor.” 

“Pot, kettle, wizard boy. You think you’re the only one with a bone to pick with God?” 

“Yeah, but you don’t see me skipping off to work for the other side because of it.” 

“The other side,” Wick scoffs. “Two sides, same coin, Constantine.” 

John snorts in answer. “Not exactly.” 

“Oh? Was it not God who gave you this gift you resent so? Was it not God’s priests who fed my pregnant mother to a hungry vampire to create me, God’s weapon against the darkness? My poor mother died in agony after my birth. The priests called her suffering God’s will. That’s what they said when my Yelena and my little Irinushka died too. I finally told them all to go to Hell.”

“So now you get your revenge on God by working for the Underworld?”

“I was made to kill vampires. So it is what I do.” 

Constantine barks with bitter laughter. “This is what you’re getting with this guy, y/n. He doesn't kill vampires to help people. He does it to scare the other vamps into line, so they don’t defy the High Table, and so the most powerful among them can go on exploiting human kind with ease. Trafficking, drugs, you name it, they’ve got their dirty fingers in it. When you said you would rob a drug cartel? He’s the one they would send after you for it.” 

It’s not like you thought Wick was a good man, but for some reason hearing all this hurts your heart. Shocked, you turn to Wick. “Is this true?” you ask hushedly. 

He actually looks regretful, not meeting your eyes. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I made a bargain, a long time ago. It is the only thing that matters to me now. I must honor it.”

You’re not sure why hearing all this has made you feel sick. You don’t really get stomach upset anymore, but you do not feel well. 

“Milaya…” says Wick pleadingly, willing you to look at him. 

But you just shake your head, staring at the floor. Maybe deep down, there was a part of you that thought maybe, maybe, you wouldn’t have to be so completely alone as the long years went by. But now you know this was a very stupid thought indeed. 

“Ask me,” prompts Wick quietly. “Ask me what the bargain was for.” 

“She doesn’t care,” says Constantine, at the same time you ask: 

“What was it for?” 

Ignoring John, his dark eyes bore into you. “I made a deal with a powerful witch of the High Table, that I would serve until the day I found my Yelena again. I was told that if I waited long enough, someday she would be reborn to me.”

You don’t know why you feel dizzy in that moment, like the floor of the whole world has dropped out from under you. You close your eyes against it, screwing them shut tight as your fingers–claws–dig into the countertop behind you. 

This man has done terrible things–for centuries, it sounds like. But he did them for love. Does that excuse them? No. Does it soften you to him? You hate to admit it, but the truth is…a little. 

You entertain the possibility for a second–you only allow yourself a second–that maybe you are this woman the dhampir thinks you are. A reincarnated soul, searching for her long lost mate, like in the deliciously trashy romances you love to read. Shouldn’t you have some sort of past life memories or dreams? Isn’t that how it always goes in the stories?

You think about how you’ve always felt adrift in this life. Not really interested or committed to anything. How it’s all always seemed kind of silly to you, meaningless even, and the only thing you’ve ever been certain was truly important, was to be kind to others. It’s ironic, maybe, that only after becoming a vampire that you truly gained a sense of purpose in your life, helping those who couldn’t help themselves, and removing evil doers from the population at large. 

You think about how you came to L.A. You practically moved here on a whim, because you were tired and off a bad breakup and you wanted to go somewhere exciting and new. Did fate guide that choice you made for yourself? Was it the unconscious searching for your soul’s true mate? 

If that’s true, then why didn’t you go to New York instead? 

You think about the day you moved into your apartment. Wrestling with your numerous boxes of stuff. Not much, really. Just what you fit into your compact hatchback car, which has since died an inglorious death on the 405. Some jerk had bumped into you on the stairs, nearly making you drop your heavy load of books, only to belatedly steady the box before it spilled, and maybe as an afterthought, you. You remember how you’d looked up, up, up because Jesus he was tall, to find the man now pulling on the addictive smoke that will prove to be his doom. He’d looked down at you with bemused annoyance in those lovely dark eyes. Told you to “Watch it,” and went on his way down the stairs, two at a time on those long legs, clearly in a hurry. 

Rushing off to save the world, or a little precious part of it, you know now. 

You remember how you’d felt like you’d been hit with a frying pan, the first time you saw him. How your heart had seemed to stop then start again, racing doubletime.  

If this was a movie, John Constantine would be your soulmate, the man you were meant to find, the one who fate seemed to be driving you towards. Because since the first time you set eyes on him, you haven’t been able to look away. And if this was a movie…it would be a tragedy, because the man you love is dying, and there is no magic that can truly save him, only delay the inevitable. 

You look between the two men seated at either head of the table. Both formidable, in their own ways, they could have been mistaken for brothers in their appearances. You wish you could deny that you felt a certain something for Wick too. It would be much simpler that way. You don’t really like the idea that things are preordained. You want to believe that you have the power to make choices about life, be they good or bad. But there is something in this dilapidated kitchen, the warm night air whispering through the broken windows, that feels unmistakably like fate. 

“I hope you find her someday,” you tell the dhampir, and you mean it, holding your hands wide in a gesture of peace. “But I don’t really think that I’m the answer you’re looking for.” 

The too-long sleeve of your shirt–John’s shirt–flops as you gesture, and you roll up the sleeve again, feeling more than a little ridiculous despite the looks both men have been paying you. As you crease the fabric up your forearm Wick zeroes in on something peeking out of your sleeve. 

“What is that?” he demands, with way more force than the situation demands. 

You look at him quizzically. “A tattoo?” 

“Let me see.” 

Constantine frowns as he watches this exchange. You feel a little uneasy too, as you pull back the sleeve to reveal the black and white flowers emblazoned on your underarm. “It’s just…something I thought was pretty on the flash wall, when I turned 18.” It had called to you, for whatever reason, on that rebellious expedition with a friend who had also just crossed the threshold into adulthood. Luckily, you still liked it. Lord knows dumber late night decisions had been made in that tattoo parlor in your little town. 

Wick, however, sits back in the chair, laughing to himself like you have told him an inside joke. “Margaritka. What do you call this flower in English?”

“Daisies?” 

Then you remember what he’d said, about the little white flower his late wife had loved to pick near their cabin. 

Oh fuck.

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

[teaboot]

Your post about art vs content got me thinking about the differences between the two. To me there is no difference besides the mindsets. One is of creator and the enjoyer, the other is content and consumer it removes the personhood, the joy/emotion, from the equation. Like a writer or video creator may not see their work as art so content creator maybe a way to refer to themselves comfortably but it sounds so machine, emotionless and lifeless, like a cookie cutter recipe mass producing something verses people lovingly crafting something...then again Disney uses a cookie cutter recipe for the most part and it brings out bangers cause people lovingly make it their own so maybe I'm thinking too hard on this

Does my long-winded rant make sense?

see, I get what you mean, but I still feel like the willingness to entertain calling art of any kind "content" reduces it to the facet of consumption where in reality, the experience of consuming art is not the sole defining trait of it.

Reducing arts like music, writing, painting, dance, voice acting, theater, etc. to the role of "content"- a thing created to be consumed, measured and valued by how pleasant or easy it is to digest- I feel that it was our biggest red flag to herald the incoming tide of AI "art".

Because if art is "content", if arts are nothing but consumable matter, then obviously the key to success is to produce as much soft, tasty, edible paste as we possibly can at the lowest possible expense.

It's the same issue I have with "meal replacements", diet culture, nutrient slurries, twenty-step skincare routines, 24/7 body padding and shapewear and laxative teas and "grind culture". It's not a cause, but a symptom, of the disease that is late-stage capitalism.

Things must be produced at low cost and remain in high demand forever. Things must be perfect and palatable and the new hit trend forever. People must pay hand over fist to consume without asking anything in return, and if they start dropping like flies at the unending unrewarded thankless demand of it all, then that must be treated as a weakness. We should all take pride in how much we can spend, pay, give, produce, and think as little as possible about what we ask for ourselves.

So, who cares if, of two identical paintings, one was made by a person and one was made by a computer program? It's the same work, so what does it matter? What does it matter?

I am an artist. I make art. I ask a question, make a statement, declare something horrific or challenging or upsetting or wrong or grotesque, and when you respond, we are together experiencing a conversation. We are existing, two people living one life and reaching out and touching across time and space. No matter the work, you're at the barest minimum saying, "I'm alive, and you're alive, and at one time or another we shared this same world, and at the end of the day we aren't too terribly different. My heart is worth sharing, and your heart is worth the struggle of understanding."

An AI-generated piece, a computer-generated voice, a CGI puppet of someone long since dead and gone, they cannot speak. They have no voice. Ay best, they are the most chewable, consumable, landlord-beige common denominator possible that you can sit and listen to like the lone survivor of a shipwreck listening to the same three songs on a broken record, and at worst, they're the uncaring vomit of an empty, unloving, value-addled hack wearing the skin of someone I know over their own.

When you abandon art to say that you make content, that should not be a point of pride. That's an embarrassment. That's not sitting down for an intelligent discussion with an equal, that's kneeling at the feet of the crowd and saying, "what do you want to see me do? I can be anyone you've ever loved. I can be them, I can be anyone, as long as you love me."

I can make content. I can be consumed. What do you want to consume? I'll make myself consumable. I'll make myself just like anything you like. And I'll make so much of it that you'll never have to go anywhere else, because it'll all be right here, and under all the cut-and-paste schlock you've seen before I will sit alone in the dark and the silence and I will know that I am safe, because I am valued, because I am desired, and I need to be desired or else I am worthless like a factory that no longer churns out steel or a hen that no longer lays eggs or a cow that is too old to make milk.

Content, the most literal meaning, is something which is contained inside a container. What it is doesn't really matter, and the best it can hope to be is something worthy of being scooped out and used.

Art is an experience that transcends value. Art is something you can eat without paying for. You can make it out of anything and anyone can do it. It can be crude and vulgar and bad, and that's a strength because it means something. It always, always means something, and it doesn't matter if you like it or not. It's not content because it doesn't fill anything. It's a living, breathing thing, and whether you want to birth it or eat it, then you're going to have to be willing to put the fucking work in

[drbased]

So much of mental health advice feels like grasping into the dark: when I did CBT I did all these various exercises and in hindsight so much of it feels like the placebo effect, and I can see why people get sucked into cults. Not saying therapy is a cult at all, but when I think about how one of the exercises was to imagine a manifestation of my bad thoughts and then physically close the door on it - what was that supposed to achieve, exactly? The buzz of motivation you get from these therapies can seem like progress, but a lot of the real value - the honesty about yourself and what you value - is entirely lost through gimmicks.

And it's really sad because in my experience, actual acceptance can be incredibly quick, so much so that it feels like a cheat code, a 'life hack' if you will. But acceptance is what 'mentally healthy' people do all the time - that's why two people can go to the exact same job and one can be chill whilst the other is depressed. As a depressed person who never understood the former type, I was always curious at exactly how those people lived - I assumed they must be vapid, that they couldn't be as deep with me, that any problems they had in their life were much more trivial than mine. I was fascinated by people who, when going through experiences I considered life-ruining, would shrug and say 'it is what it is'. I assumed once again that they must just not be as deep as I am, or feel as strongly. The deeper assumption was always that there's something fundamentally different to my make-up that separates me from the 'normies'. The narcissism of this is not lost on me; I used to flip-flop back and forth between 'I'm right' and 'they're right'. I now understand this to be value system that my depression was built around, and I don't have that maddening argument in my head anymore.

The depression was always both the cause and solution: there always had to be a justification for my sadness that was more than simply 'I don't like this' - that way I could cling to it; I could defensively make it a part of me, whilst secretly embarrassed that other people would be able to handle a similar situation better than me. The key to acceptance is to face that embarrassment head-on and say, actually the reason this thing bothers me so much is because I value it not happening more than I value my happiness and comfort. The point of acceptance is where I realise that my happiness is something I can choose internally regardless of my external circumstances; that that's what everyone else has been doing this whole time and therefore I am not a freak nor am I the messiah. I can be just like everyone else and it's not embarrassing to be a mundane, alive human being. But also, I have to overcome the embarrassment of being miserable under a sunk-cost fallacy - so for that, I have to, once again, understand why I valued the narrative justification so much, and so I can accept that too, all as valued, loved, and cherished parts of myself. It's all about understanding and acceptance at every stage, at every layer of the psyche.

And from that acceptance I can recognise that my depression was a noble goal in some ways; a core facet of my belief used to be that I'm just one person, and everything else is everything else, so my value system should logically be skewed outwards. But I now understand that martyring myself for the 'greater good' is a thankless task and also, whilst everything else is bigger than me, I'm the one who experiences that everything, so my value system should be focussed on me. Feeling good feels good, and that's enough.

I understand that the process of true acceptance is a really tough thing to do, and it's cosmically upsetting how unfair it is that people who never have a mental illness (or have one that is so accepted by society that they never have to consider it one) don't ever have to do this manual process of self-reflection - but at the same time, my honesty about myself has become something I now value greatly as it allows me to make meaningful choices to demonstrate self-love and rebuild trust in myself after a decade of believing that 'because I want to be happy' isn't justification enough. And since I discovered this whole process, so much of mental health advice just seems to me like the equivalent of putting a jelly bean on a paragraph in a book to incentivise you to read to that point: you're a fully grown adult and you're not stupid, so eventually some part of you is going to go 'but I can eat the damn jellybean at any time!'

From having learned just how much the brain is paying attention to everything I do, it's hard to justify doing these typical therapy exercises knowing that the value system they espouse is entirely the opposite to my own: they're fundamentally dishonest and kick the mental health can down the road, treating your psyche as an inconvenience and an obstacle to achievement (which is implicitly believed to be 'real'). Slamming the door on my negative thoughts:

Creates a symbolic narrative that through this I can be 'cured'

Posits that my negative thoughts, despite being a product of my literal brain, have nothing to do with how my brain works

Posits that those thoughts can be severed from me (with one dramatic gesture)

Looking back, this such a patronising way to approach my own personhood; this qualified mental health practitioner was agreeing with the mental illness that brought me to him in the first place that I am fragmented and that parts of me are 'wrong'. Acceptance says that no, no part of me is 'wrong' because that's an entirely false concept: there are only actions and consequences, and I decide if I value those consequences. The only 'reason' I 'shouldn't' have those negative thoughts is because they hurt me - but also, as they are a part of me, they can be addressed and they can be reasoned with. Accepting their point of view as my own has done so, so much more for my mental health than treating that point of view as a terrifying aberration on my psyche to be forcefully removed.

Society is always surprised at how people who commit atrocities rarely have a mental disorder; but that's that implicit belief about 'mental health' in action. There's a societal need for mental health to be some reflection of logical and moral 'correctness'; after all, there is existential terror in the realisation of of psyches as floating entities, universes isolated from material reality. I, too, feel this terror, but as someone who used to feel a great need to be under the scrutiny of The All-Knowing Watcher who could justify all my behaviours, thoughts and feelings under some objective standard, there has been a paradoxical freedom in recognising that I alone am responsible for constructing my morality and value system. Those 'mentally healthy' people who commit atrocities simply have a value system that does not care about the harm they have done; and, as a result, they have accepted themselves (in a way I couldn't even accept about that Portal 'Companion Cube' plush I bought for £30 over a decade ago and immediately regretted yet still can't throw away). This can be hard to swallow for people who need to believe that we all live under the same objective standard and that mental illness is merely an aberration. The idea that I'm more mentally ill than a murderer feels wrong; from this alone it's clear that the whole idea of what mental illness/health even is is still in its infancy - and mental health treatments - which have undergone much revision, making it possible that nobody does that CBT exercise anymore - are reflecting that dearth of understanding.

[craftytomato]

I really liked your sonic AU from "phantom Rider" could you talk more about the AU if it's not a problem?

Sure thing! As long as you don't mind that I'm leaning into the Pretending to be Mind Controlled Idea instead of Actually Mind Controlled. Most of my ideas can work either way anyway.

(I wanna see how most of the actual arc plays out first in full before I go hard into my ideas but here's what I have so far based on the Phantom Rider's debut.)

The Idea:

Everything pretty much stays the same up until Surge uses her powers on Phantom Ryder, but instead she fully destabilizes his helmet and exposes Sonic to the world.

Everyone is shocked, scrambling to come up with an answer. Just before anyone can truly react, Eggman, who was watching from his base, gives a tired sigh because he had a feeling that something would go wrong. Now it was up to him to swoop in and keep their plan on track. He hacks into the jumbotron, scaring and/or confusing everyone.

"I see that my little present to this charity event has finally been unwrapped!"

He goes into a spiel about how he was interested in the event, 'hurt' that he didn't get an invite, and how he didn't appreciate the mockery to his likeness. So he decided to enter with a racer of his own with a little help from the dearly departed Starline.

Surge and Kit's blood runs cold. Eggman boasts that he had captured and mind controlled Sonic to be his champion racer. And now he was going to give this event some real challenge and excitement.

All eyes are now back on Sonic and he's torn right in half. He can't go along with this! He couldn't let Eggman scare everyone like this! But Tails and Amy needed the distraction. He had to stick to the plan, however derailed it was becoming. But-

"Some of you may be in disbelief that I was able to accomplish such a dastardly feat in such a short time. If you have any doubts, consider the alternative: my longtime nemesis willingly used my gear to disrupt a charity event? Doesn't sound like the blue rodent you've all come to sickeningly adore, now does it? No, of course not! Meaning that the only explanation is that Sonic is now my loyal minion whether he likes it or not!

Isn't that right, my Phantom Rider?"

Begrudgingly, Sonic makes his choice.

And he laughs. A hauntingly evil laugh that even impresses Eggman as it sends chills throughout the crowd.

"Glory to the Eggman Empire!"

Eggman cackles. "Enjoy your little race! I know I will!"

At that point, Sonic takes the chance to flee for the time being while everyone's distracted by Eggman.

Now the game has changed for everyone. The Diamond Cutters are torn. Lanolin and Duo want to stop the Phantom Rider at all costs while Tangle and Whisper are insisting on saving Sonic.

This also causes Clutch and Jewel to start to butt heads. Jewel wants to cancel the event for everyone's safety, but Clutch wants to carry it on. He gives reasons about how they'll have more security on standby for when the 'Phantom Ryder' makes another appearance and if they cancel the event then they're showing the world that they're scared of Eggman (in reality he just wants to use it to his advantage). Jewel pretends to buy it, but in her mind she's having other thoughts.

Surge and Kit are at a loss. Surge tries to play it off like Sonic deserves to know what it feels like to be in their place, but both her and Kit are being eaten up inside for multiple reasons. Surge wants to laugh and make fun of Sonic. This should be the perfect poetic justice for him in her eyes. But she can't and she hates that she can't!

Meanwhile Sonic is pretty sure that things can't get worse. Sure, Eggman saved the plan but now Sonic's essentially being blackmailed into following the mind controlled narrative.

Now what was supposed to be a simple plan gets more complicated by the minute as circumstances keep changing and more and more people are dragged into this mess.

And that's all I got so far

[msfcatlover]

Can you tell me the about the talon jason au?

YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes yes!!!

The Talon!Jason story is really heavily inspired by All Birds Have Talons, a fantastic little oneshot which got my gears churning with possibilities (as well as Talon’s Grasp, my all-time favorite Talon!Dick fic, specifically for how it handles the conditioning & Dick’s escape.) I just… snipped the Joker out altogether, and had Shiela betray Jason to the Court directly. They wanted Robin, after all, and she’d been out of Gotham for so long that even if she had contacts to know about the “wanted alive (or else)” bounty on Dick’s head, she probably wouldn’t know any of the details. She’s embezzling funds, she’s being blackmailed, she’s kinda on the run, and here’s the son she never wanted offering to help her with whatever problem she has, insisting they won’t even need to get his rich new dad involved if she doesn’t want to because Jason can handle himself; she doesn’t need to worry about him, because he’s Robin.

The Joker isn’t involved at all. Shiela calls her old contacts herself.

(CW: heavily referenced if not described brainwashing, torture, medical abuse, dehumanization, and depersonalization ahead.)

They’re not happy. Jason’s not the Robin they want, but he’s seen/heard too much once Shiela tricks him into the meeting, and they might as well get something out of this meeting. They fake Jason’s death with Shiela, the bomb, flesh too charred to get a DNA reading off of, a dangerous amount of blood, and hack off one of Jason’s arms before pumping him full of experimental healing drugs so they can stick a new one on and don’t end up with a one-armed Talon. (It never connects quite right, and Jason is always a little clumsier and a little bit number on that side.)

Jason wakes up in the labyrinth, fighting off the drugs & shock, with an arm that looks dead, doesn’t move right, and that he knows he should not have anymore. He’s not ready, his body isn’t chemically prepared for the procedure, so they keep dragging him back to the medical area, talking over him like he’s not there, and when Jason fights back, the punishments are brutal. There’s also plenty of classical conditioning, trying to train him to do what they want one step at a time. (He loses fingernails & teeth, because those are easy sources of extreme pain that won’t damage him in the long term, but he does piss them off worse. Jason learns that broken bones hurt worse when forced to heal too quickly. Spitting in one of the doctors’ masks cost him color in his right eye. The shock collar was just to make him put on the hood originally, but eventually they just… left it on. Food can be bought only with cooperation, and it’s a hefty price indeed.)

Jason does hold out for an impressively long time. First it’s because he thinks he needs to wait to be saved; they break that hope by showing him his own funeral. Then it’s because he needs to escape, though his attempts all come to naught. In the end, Jason hangs on because he listened when the Owls talked over him, and he knows they’re just using Jason as a trial run; he knows they’re planning to go after Dick. The longer Jason holds on, the longer his big brother will be safe. Conditioning corrupts that, though. Memories fade, names slip through his fingers, he’s… he knows he’s here for a purpose. Protecting someone. Someone the Court will also make Talon if he fails—no one should go through this, and that person is (warmth & sunshine, bright smiles & sky blue) is important, and he can’t… he can’t fail. He can’t let them down.

If he can just be a good enough Talon, that person will be safe. (This is what carries him through the training, the treatment, the cold, humiliation, and death, death, death, death, death. He can do it. He can be good enough. He’ll keep them safe.)

And then. The Court gets what they want.

Jason doesn’t realize it at first (of course not, who tells a Talon anything?) He doesn’t realize it until the base is under attack, all the Talons are woken up and sent to defensive positions, and he finds their newest prisoner in the middle of an escape attempt. He freezes for just a second, hands on his knives, trying to make sense of this. His voice is still hoarse from scarring and flat from disuse when, for the first time in well over five years, he says, “Dick Grayson?” (He didn’t even know he still knew that name.) Dick has been fighting Talons since he got here (and is pretty drugged up himself,) and acts on instinct. Dick strikes out, and it’s not until he knocks the Talon down that he realizes it’s only fighting defensively—and only because it stops fighting altogether. It just lays there on the floor, staring at him through that blank hood. “Dick Grayson,” the Talon says again, and this time Dick can make out what almost sounds like confusion in its voice, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Dick doesn’t know what to make of the Talon that helps him escape. Dick does try to help the Talon back (raiding a bat-safehouse to check both of them for trackers and to change their clothes. The Talon seems hesitant to change out of the uniform, even when Dick turns away and promises not to look. Dick still catches just a glimpse of the old scarring on the Talon’s neck out of the corner of his eye, thinks of how hoarse the Talon’s voice was, and feels sick.)

The Talon stays with Dick all the way to the back entrance of the Batcave, but when Dick turns to ask if they want to come in, the Talon is gone.

(When Dick tries to explain everything that happened to the rest of the family will be the first time he realizes: “The other Talons, they were very formal, full names only. ‘Richard Grayson, the Court of Owls commands’ blah-blah-blah. The Owls just called me Grayson. But the Talon who helped me called me Dick.” “Do you think it was someone you knew?” Tim asks. Dick manages a weak, humorless laugh. “I don’t know, Tim. Maybe?” Dick thinks of the scars again, the breathy rasp of the Talon’s voice, and swallows. “Gods, I hope not.”)

It’s not the last time they meet, though. Not by a long shot.

(The Talon cannot go back to the Court, not after having the greatest failure possible dangled in front of its face, stealing the Court’s prisoner, and… and what if they try to take Dick again? No, no, can’t let that happen, can’t let this happen to Dick too, not after everything. Never, ever, ever again.)

(And gradually, the Talon begins to find Jason Todd in the graveyard of his own mind.)

.

I have several scenes I really, really love drafted (the moment when Dick convinces the other bats to see Jason as an ally. The moment Jason realizes what his connection to Dick actually is. The entire sequence where Dick finally realizes who Jason is, who Jason has been this whole time.) I also have a few concepts that won’t seem to go right on paper, like a final confrontation with Cobb, and Bruce finally seeing his second son face-to-face for the first time in years.

And it is, like most of my stories, full of holes I’m still trying to fill; I can’t promise this will ever resolve into a cohesive, fully narrative fic one day. But! I’m happy to ramble, and nothing helps me fill in the holes faster than getting to talk through things with people! So please, feel free to ask more if you’re interested.

[sciderman]

How do ya feel about Spider-noir getting a show before Deadpool does?

i say i should FINISH the deadpool show that i've been hacking away at for more than a year and release it before spider-noir, that's what i say.

i kind of am in disbelief we're getting a spider-noir show, but i think it's cool. it's guaranteed to be stylistically very cool and hopefully we'll get a lot of cool action and storylines because spider-noir isn't really just a cash-grab kind of a character. they're probably making it because they think they can actually do something cool with it.

deadpool doesn't have that advantage, i don't think. i think if we did get a deadpool series in the end up it would probably be a messy little cash-grab full of meta-humor and No Plot or Action whatsoever.

i think nobody wants to throw money at a deadpool animated project because a. it would cost a LOT of money to make it good actually and b. it's a risk because - actually, so, so much could go horribly wrong. i could see people absolutely despising a deadpool series if it's not done well. and if it's just mid, well - there's so much animation that's just mid and it gets cancelled after just one season and nobody remembers it. a deadpool animated series HAS to be an absolute sensation that everyone adores or else it shouldn't be made. there would be so much riding on that series. imagine a deadpool series that's just mid. how sad would that be. no. no. better without.

animation is such a gamble. and it's expensive to do well. and if it's done cheaply, nobody really likes it - unless you work within those constraints and find a quirky style that works and is inexpensive. and even then - you'd need the writing to carry what the animation can't. and writing well?? for deadpool?? near impossible. sorry to say, but it's true. deadpool is such a difficult character to get right.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Well, after our last big attempt to destroy the Solar Cell ended in failure we had our memories wiped and were forced to fight against each other in simulated grail wars. Anytime one finished we were thrust into another. A version of you was there for at least a few. Apparently we went through at least a trillion or something. Our memories were also wiped after each war to keep us fighting each other. We only managed to break free with the last one and ended up in this whole affair. Might have had something to do with most (if not all) the Servants that were summoned in that loop being versions of you and the other guys we had upon our initial incursion. From time to time we manage to recall bits and pieces of stuff either from our original arrival in the Solar Cell or a previous grail war loop, but that’s all.

Also, we seem to be a lot less callous than we were in the past. Probably something to do with us not longer having personal memories of the absolutely backstabbing life that is living in mage society and especially Clock Tower.

MUSASHI: "Ah, I see..."

You've gotten this sort of 'oh, wow'-type of reaction before. Best to just leave that one be for now. She's picked up enough from the conversation so far regardless.

MUSASHI: "Charlemagne... the name kinda sounds familiar, but I'm not totally sure... as for the other questions- not really. Sorry, I'm not much of a computer person."

INVADER: [ "We do not have that capability yet, and I cannot properly analyze the spell. However, Musashi possesses an innate Magic Resistance as a Saber-class. Whatever spell cast should have a weakened effect on her, but…" ]

MUSASHI chuckled, sheepishly.

MUSASHI: "Ah, you noticed that, huh? Basically. I'm sure I could have shrugged it off and made them struggle for it, but I didn't. A punishment's a punishment, after all. And it wasn't like my situation was drastically changed- I just went from one person's vengeful spirit to another. Either way, I wasn't fighting in a way I enjoyed."

INVADER: [ "…With how damaged her Spirit Origin is, you'd need a considerable amount of magical energy to restore it to a proper state. Either via my Command Spells, or through a powerful Mystic Code- and the only one in our possession is the Crimson Blade. However, that blade also belongs to the Servant 'Draco'. It is a considerable bargaining chip, and may be able to restore the Beast to a more manageable state. Examining our currently very limited resources, destroying her body and gaining a new Code Cast would be the most efficient course of action." ]

INVADER stated, coldly listing out the facts. You could see MUSASHI listening quietly, nodding, not exactly disagreeing with the sentiment.

MUSASHI: "...So it's this kind of situation, huh?"

You had come here in order to damage or slow down the MUSASHI in 'reality'. Leaving would just set you back to square one- maybe even worse than that, if she ended up adapting to your hacking.

You felt a tremor in the ground, as the mental world around you began to destabilize.

MUSASHI: "Ah- I think 'Shadow Me' is trying to boot you all out, so we don't have any more time to really chat. If you're going to do something, make it snappy."

You'd have to make a choice here.

[callalillywrites]

Revenge Best Served by Three Pissed Alphas - Their Sweet Omega One-Shot

Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha!Jake Jensen / Beta!Pre-serum Steve Rogers / Omega!Reader

Other Characters: Alpha!Bucky Barnes, Alpha!Ari Levinson, and Beta!Ransom Drysdale

Word Count: ~1550

Summary: This takes place directly after An Accidental Eavesdropping. Our Alphas aren't happy to learn that Steve (and Ransom) had been hurt and determined to make the omega and their alpha pay for that hurt.

Warnings: protective-mode Jake activated, Bucky and Ari scheming with Jake, not much other than that I think

A/N: It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

It doesn’t take Jake long to track down the omega who caused Steve to doubt himself and his place in their pack.

The omega is worse than Jake could imagine. Professionally, they say all the right things. Personally, that’s a whole other thing. He hacks into their personal socials and finds a treasure trove of hate for Betas.

The more he reads, the more upset he gets.

Behind him, he can hear the growls of Bucky and Ari, who’ve been reading everything over his shoulder.

Jake hadn’t left Bucky’s the apartment without Bucky pulling him aside and telling him he wants in whatever Jake is planning for this omega and their alpha. He’s not about to let what happened with Steve go unanswered.

Ari gets involved when he hears the story from Omega during the party they had for Steve’s great accomplishment. He had sensed something off with her and hadn’t let her go without learning what’s making her so sad at such a happy event for her Beta.

The three alphas are determined to take this omega and their alpha down by any means necessary. No way should they ever be allowed to court another Beta and hurt them in the ways they’ve done Ransom and Steve.

Bucky and Ari both like Ransom because of his troll-like nature, which disappears entirely when he’s in the presence of Jake’s Omega. It’s an instant transformation and has given them a real insight into Ransom. His rough outer shell is there to protect him.

They both see a bit of themselves in Ransom, and it’s enough to have them protective over him as much as they are Steve.

The great debate comes in how they’re going to take these two down in a way that won’t hurt themselves, Jake’s pack, or Ransom.

A lot of ideas are shared and discarded until they land on something Jake’s done before for Steve. (The past commissioner who’d stiffed Steve and berated his talents a few weeks before his birthday.)

This time, they’re not going to hold back from costing these two their jobs and more if they can manage it.

The trio go on recon missions to learn all they can about these two and soon have enough information on each of them.

With the information gathered, Jake gets to work on a dossier of sorts that he anonymously sends to both their bosses. The omega might be a party planner, but that work comes from an organization rather than a freelancing type of position. The alpha is some corporate hotshot that’s been on track for making a huge promotion within the next couple of years.

A bit more digging finds that both are working under some impressive betas.

All it takes is getting those betas’ emails from public websites on the two companies and sending them the appropriate dossiers on each of them.

Bucky’s part in this reveals some more damning details as he surveils them and discovers some interesting groups these two belong to. It doesn’t take much effort on his part (and Ari’s) to get these groups to discover the truth about these two. The groups are quick to distance themselves from these two.

It takes a bit of time before they learn that Jake’s work has panned out.

Both the omega and their alpha are let go from their companies and practically blackballed from their respective industries.

As much as they might feel bad for what they’re doing, it’s soon pushed aside as the two don’t show any remorse for their thoughts. No, these two double down on their preciously held views of betas. They even go so far to blast all betas on their social media accounts, earning them further bans on those for their hate speech.

It all culminates in the omega and alpha doing something beyond drastic and getting themselves arrested for those efforts.

With their mission accomplished, Jake has them come back to his place where he sits down Steve and Ransom as well as his Omega.

Ransom hasn’t exactly been all that happy with Steve after learning about Steve’s gaff in telling what happened. Sure, Steve hadn’t directly told Omega or Jake, but he had blabbed everything to someone else, involving Ransom’s name in the process.

“We don’t hide things from each other, Ran,” Omega reminds him, still a bit hurt he hadn’t come to her. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have hired that wretched omega, and Steve never would’ve been hurt enough to blab your secret. I would’ve ripped them a new one for hurting you, too.”

“Angel,” Jake gently admonishes though he’s well aware of how fierce she is. He even shoots her a proud smile as she merely pouts at him, grumbling under her breath. That has Jake coughing to hide his amusement. “There will be no need for any ripping, Angel. That omega and their alpha have been handled.”

Oh, that has both Omega’s and Steve’s attention.

After all, they’re also well aware of Jake’s over-protective streak when it comes to them.

Not wanting to hog all the credit, Jake steps back and lets Ari and Bucky take turns on what all has gone down the past couple of weeks. They don’t really leave out a lot of details though they also don’t tell everything.

At the end of it, Steve’s grinning while Omega’s eyes overflow with happy tears.

Ransom’s the hardest of the bunch to read.

He hasn’t said a word the entire time. In fact, his hands have been clenched for most of their tale, but he eventually releases them.

When he finally meets Jake’s gaze, he asks, “Why do this for me? I’m not your beta. I don’t belong to any of you. What are you getting out of this by helping me?”

“Nothing,” Jake answers while Bucky and Ari wisely keep silent. “We didn’t do this because we expect something of you. We did this because it’s not only the right thing to do, but because you’re Angel’s best friend. Those she cares about matter to me, too.”

“She matters to us, too,” Bucky added. “I haven’t seen Jake or Steve so happy until she came into their lives. Ari and I’ll do anything to make sure she and her friends are safe.”

“Even a lowly beta asshole like me?” Ransom can’t seem to help poking the three alphas, not daring to possibly hope that someone might care about him in some small capacity.

Ari chuckles at that. “Especially an asshole like you. Though, I’ve met bigger ones than you could ever hope to be, lil beta.”

“Think you’re confusing me with Steve over there.”

“Haha. Very funny, jackass.”

Jake shakes his head but steps forward. “Okay, okay, before we add a hospital visit, it’s time to wrap this up. Steve, Angel and I already spoke to you about this incident. Do I need to repeat what we told you to get it through that stubborn skull of yours?”

While Steve shakes his head, Bucky mumbles his doubts about that, shooting a devilish smirk in Steve’s direction. Steve flips him off.

“Okay, then that leaves you, Ransom.”

Ransom tenses at that. He meets Jake’s gaze again with a bit of a scowl on his face.

“No more secrets. I’ll make it an Alpha Command if I have to, but I’d rather not. If someone is hurting you, then you tell Angel or Steve if they make you more comfortable. They do not, however, get to keep that secret from me.”

When Ransom goes to open his mouth to protest, Jake holds up his hand.

He continues, “If I’m not available, then they have my full permission to go to Bucky or Ari to have them handle it. Whether you like it or not, you are now under our protection. We don’t take our duties as alphas lightly. Are we understood?”

Ransom wants to fight against this mandate, but he can see the resolve in Jake and the other two alphas. If Jake won’t use his Alpha Command, he’s fairly certain one of the other two will.

Finally, he nods, unable to see his way out of this.

Satisfied, Jake turns to Steve and Omega. “You two are not to keep this from us Alphas, either, or try to handle these matters on your own. Understand?”

Both Steve and Omega are quick to agree.

With matters now settled, Jake invites everyone to stay for dinner, which he’s making after the wonderful dessert he spied earlier in the fridge from his sweet Omega.

The dinner ends up being a good time.

Steve and Ransom are able to repair some of the cracks in their new friendship while Omega fawns over both betas and does what she can to mend the hurt caused to them both.

Omega doesn’t forget about Jake and happily shows him some special appreciation when they find themselves alone in the kitchen before dinner, before dessert, and during cleanup afterward.

It’s only after their guests leave that they find themselves falling into a cuddle puddle in one of Omega’s nests. A movie plays in the background as they get lost in each other.

They stay that way until it’s beyond their usual bedtime, not really bothering to move until the early morning hours.

*****

Verse Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Tag List: @thezombieprostitute

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 8

pairing ; childe x gender neutral! reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; none

notes ; listen guys. i can explain. rly tho, i’ve been horribly busy with school stuff and for a long time i wasn’t rly inspired to write but i got SOME free time now and managed to finish this bad boy up!

sadly, kind of a boring chapter imo, just a LOT of continuing childe’s story quest. i’ve mentioned a bunch of times before how i hate writing by the quest dialogue and how tedious it is and i believe that’s partially why i couldn’t continue writing for a bit. anyway, i promise i’ll try to get the next chapter out sooner as next chapter WILL have some things i’m looking forward to writing LOL

previous | next | masterlist

the bright high noon sun shines against the blades of grass in the hills of qingxu pool, making the greenery seem like shards of vibrant emerald. the very same sun, unfortunately, nearly causes you to melt right then and there- with impossible steep peaks to cross and a whole child in your arms to carry. teucer had fallen asleep in your arms somewhere along the trip and he still snores soundly as you round up to the location childe had referred to earlier and where you immediately spot him, as well as some other men.

“found him! there’s childe!” paimon exclaims as she floats on ahead, effectively waking up teucer at the mention. he tries to move around and gather in his surroundings within your hold, sleepy eyes adjusting to the light once more.

as you get closer to the group, you find that the men childe is speaking to are… treasure hoarders. and it certainly didn’t look like the friendliest of exchanges, some kind debt collecting that lunatic does. you hear half of a taunt coming from childe when you approach earshot.

“…i suppose i should forgive you country bumpkins for your ignorance, for i am-“

“brother!” teucer yells excitedly and the harbinger freezes in his tracks the next second.

“you’re selling them toys, aren’t you, brother? that’s so cool, i’ve always wanted to watch you work!”

childe stammers. “w-why yes, of course! for i am, uh…

…the greatest toy salesman in snezhnaya!”

oh, for the tsaritsa’s sake. this time, you truly cannot fight the involuntary reaction within your muscles to facepalm at his half-assed save, if you can even call it that. though, what makes it worse is when he raises his fists triumphantly, clapping as if there was nothing wrong with what he said.

“so cool!”

“…huh?” says one of the treasure hoarders.

“you playin’ games, pretty boy?” goes another and you snort at the nickname.

“so, will you buy, or not? the toys that snezhnaya produced three months ago will run you.. yes, six hundred thousand mora- to be paid in full.”

another treasure hoarder chokes on his breath. “t-toys..? a-and how much mora…?”

“wow, is that what it’s gonna cost to fix that head of yours?”

the three hoarders bark out in mocking laughter. childe doesn’t seem to be dissuaded in the slightest, in fact his eyes drop into a lethally serious glare.

“i’ll say it again- toys from snezhnaya. three months prior. six hundred thousand mora. paid in full.”

“yeah… no, sorry, salesboy. the same joke isn’t funny twice. or were you always cruisin’ for a bruisin’?”

the harbinger sighs. “alright then, i’ll make things a little easier for you- i’ll join the treasure hoarders. perhaps you’ll be more willing to pay when we’re brothers-in-arms?”

you frown, slightly skeptical of childe’s methods of negotiation. however, you know better than anyone that childe, for all that he seems, is not an idiot. he’s just as aware of the means as he is of the ends and he wouldn’t be making statements like those with such certainty for nothing.

“hah- would you listen t’yourself?! you think we just let any old person into the treasure hoarders? i’m not so sure you could hack it…”

“heh, well then, why don’t you put me to the test, dear seniors? i like to think of myself as quite talented in the field of treasure hunting.”

“hmm.. looks like you’re not gonna pack it up until someone packs you in. alright then, show us what you got.”

the leading treasure hoarder proceeds with the proposition of a challenge where childe would have to collect some loot on a nearby hill within a time limit set by them. while you could see the hill from where you were, it was impossibly far to reach on foot in such a short amount of time. a tinge of worry creeps into the back of your neck and you shoot childe a concerned look, which he receives like he’s perfectly understood your silent doubts.

in return, he only cheekily winks to you and takes off.

he expertly uses the powerful gusts of wind shooting nearby to cut the path toward the hill in short and before you can even think of keeping track of his movements, he’s back with a small chest in hand- nonchalantly brushing dust off his uniform.

“well, i have the goods, here you go. so how’d i do? pretty well, i’d say.” childe smirks.

one of the other treasure hoarders starts sweating and whispers worryingly over to his fellow bandit. the leader turns back to childe, somewhat containing his shock.

“please… hold on a moment, sir. we need to discuss something amongst ourselves.”

the three turn to a small circle, where they mutter back and forth to each other, unintelligibly to you. periodically, one of the hoarders throws childe a quick, fearful look to ensure that he’s not becoming impatient- lest something freakier than his show of inhuman speed happens. finally, the leader turns back.

“so, mister.. salesman. my apologies but we can’t have you joining us.”

“oh? i didn’t pass? i must say i never imagined that the treasure hoarders would have such strict entry requirements…” childe replies unimpressed.

“no, i-it’s not that- ..what we mean is you’re too big a fish for our little pond. but we fully understand the situation with the uh… toys, sir. we’ll fetch that six hundred thousand mora for you right away.”

you scoff, shaking your head incredulously at how… somehow childe managed to get his way with such a ridiculous front to impress his brother. teucer, on the other hand, could not be happier with the outcome.

“that’s my brother for you! toy sellers are so cool!”

some rustling of grass from behind you grabs your attention and you instinctively tense your shoulders, hand ready and reaching out towards teucer if you had to protect him from an unexpected ambush by the sour treasure hoarders. fortunately, the arriving individual turns out to be a familiar fatui employee, felix. he recognizes your presence with a curt bow-like gesture before directing himself towards the harbinger.

“ah, master childe, you’re here. a new batch of fresh recruits have just-“

“hey now, keep your voice down. can’t you see i’m entertaining some clients over here?”

“clients? well uh… the motherland has dispatched a new batch of recruits to liyue. they’ve just arrived and i’m afraid we must ask you to speak to them.”

“ugh, do i have to? now is hardly the best time…”

you decide to interject with a suggestion. “couldn’t signora give them the initiation? she’s also an acting superior here in liyue.”

felix shakes his head. “i’m afraid the fair lady has already returned to the palace to attend to other affairs.”

dammit, you really couldn’t keep track of that woman. both you and childe seem to simultaneously deflate slightly at the news, as if you’d both imagined at the same time how hard it’d be to keep teucer satisfied and ignorant towards the truth with so many predicaments.

“i truly must apologize for troubling you, master childe, but they are already waiting for you south of lingju pass. every new batch of recruits must be baptized by the tsaritsa’s will through the words of her harbingers. this has always been our rule.”

childe groans and rolls his eyes petulantly.

“well, alright then, i’ll go. just give me a moment to catch up with my brother and i’ll be right with you.”

“do you have to keep working?” teucer finally speaks up, with his saddened tone from earlier returning.

“yes teucer, we have a group of new toy sellers fresh from the motherland and i need to go teach them the ropes.”

“that’s great! when i grow up, i wanna be a toy seller too. can i go listen?”

you stammer to answer quickly. “ah- maybe not now, teuce’. you’re still a little too young for that, bud.”

childe nods in agreement. “besides, most of it is rather boring. why don’t you go play with y/n and the traveler instead? sound good?”

teucer shoots out the most impossibly heart wrenching combo of big eyes and a pout towards his brother. “b-but.. but…”

“i really do have to go, teucer. a lot of people are waiting to see me. i’ll see you around, alright?”

the boy sighs melancholically and for a moment you do understand his side of the situation, but again you’re reminded of the harsh reality of the fatui and how hard it must be, no- how hard it has been to keep such a young, adventurous kid oblivious to all of it. it truly has not been easy for childe for his little brother to show up so absurdly unannounced.

the traveler and paimon are a few feet away, whispering to each other while teucer still sulks, and you catch a bit of their conversation.

“to think he’d go this far just to prevent his family from seeing his… dark side.”

“i wonder how much longer he can hide it from teucer…” the traveler responds.

“paimon wonders too. but hey, let’s at least help him

out while we’re out in liyue…

wait- where’s teucer?”

panic shoots up your spine chillingly and you turn around to where he just was, to find nothing. the few seconds you’d kept your eye off him he disappears. you scan the grasslands for teucer almost involuntarily, but no sign of him at all.

“ugh.. we were too busy chatting! where’d he go?”

you sigh frustratedly and stomp down the hill, eyes still vigilant. “dammit, i shouldn’t have taken my eyes off of him while he was still upset. not even for one second… of course he’s going after childe.”

—

“…from this day forward, you will honor the oaths you have made to her majesty the tsaritsa and you will stop at nothing to bring snezhnaya victory.”

you can still taste the very same oath you swore years ago on your tongue. you still remember how tense your shoulders stayed and shaky the fist held to your heart was, how harsh and vile the words of the fatui initiation sounded coming out of dottore’s mouth. and now, they sound just as sharp coming from childe- you find that it gives you an unpleasant feeling in your chest.

teucer and childe, and consequently the new recruits, were not at all hard to find. you approach the gathering to see teucer propped up on a nearby rock, head held in his hands as he attentively watched the ceremony. you truly wish you’d kept your eye on teucer before and stopped him from coming here. it’s hard to be reminded of childe’s cold and devoted demeanor when it came to the tsaritsa- though, cold and devoted is what you could call any of her followers.

for some reason, the occasion causes you to pause and watch a bit of the procedure yourself, but you don’t focus on how intense the harbinger’s words are, nor on how the recruits react to it. no, instead you focus on childe’s scars.

they’re so evenly distributed throughout his body, or at least what you can see of it, that it almost seems intentional. at any other time, you would’ve thought them to be artistic and beautif- but err, uhm… but now they only look like glaring reminders of childe’s nature as the tsaritsa’s weapon of war. you’ve always thought that was a baffling title to have.

you notice teucer stand up to wave to his brother in the distance.

“…for the trials that we face are harsh, and the enemies are like- ..ehm,”

childe also looks over to where you were at that very second, catching onto teucer’s excited movements. his eyes asses your group, then they trail over to you and the seconds where your eyes meet seems to last longer than it should- there’s a shocked shift in his gaze and it’s then that you realize you’d been frowning this whole time. the harbinger then regards his brother’s presence and he stutters on his sentence.

“a-ahem, like… kites a-and rattle drums.. who shall become redoubtable foes of mr. cyclops in the marketplaces of liyue..!”

you hear teucer approve of his message right next to you, although the recruits don’t seem entirely sold.

“this is, of course, an analogy. as they say, ‘the marketplace, too, is a battlefield.’”

nobody says that.

“so, as your… sales manager here in liyue, i demand that you obey my every order! a refusal shall be considered a betrayal, and the price for betrayal is to be dishonorably discharged from.. a-ahem, the institute of toy research.”

this time, he can’t stupidly get away with this, as both teucer and the recruits seem queasy about the statement- much to childe’s dismay. he looks down for a moment as if to consider his options and shoots up again.

“eh.. uh… forget it! perhaps a round of hands-on training will suit us better!”

just how in teyvat is this guy your superior?

as if everything could not become any more absurd, childe’s proposal seemed to utterly please the new recruits- they whisper and rave to each other about the huge honor that it would be to fight with the eleventh harbinger. you could see the duels’ ends before they even began, with all of these poor newbies licking the dirt as they’re kicked into ground by childe with minimal effort.

just as expected, it’s over rather quickly- though the recruits do hold up their own for longer than you anticipated against someone like childe.

“well then, do you all understand what i said earlier?” childe interrogates with nonchalant confidence, as if he wasn’t slipping up and stumbling on his own words earlier.

“yes, sir!” the recruits heave out exhaustedly.

“excellent, and you all almost managed to get me limbered up. in other words, you’ve done well- for new recruits.”

“thank you, lord harbinger!”

childe gives the recruits some more encouragement before dismissing them as soon as possible. once they take off, teucer takes the opportunity to run up and tell his brother how amazing he was just then.

“teucer- what in the world are you doing here? there i was thinking that these three had taken you to play at wangshu inn, aha!” childe says, the latter sentence is pointed, much like his subtle glare up at the three of you.

“you really did get stronger.” the traveler admits with dignity and childe’s ego, as if it hadn’t been inflated enough by the drooling recruits just now, seems to swell.

“hah, i told you, didn’t it? i never pass on an opportunity to improve my strength. i’m not the

man i was when we first met.”

“you didn’t go all out, though.” she teases.

“by that, i assume you mean i didn’t use foul legacy transformation, yes?”

“it puts a great strain on my body, so it’s best saved for crucial moments.”

your eyes lower into a warning glare, thought playful one. “as if i’d ever let you use it in a situation like this.”

childe laughs with his full chest, amused at your quip.

“ahaha! yes, that much is true. if it hadn’t been for y/n’s medical prowess, i’d still be ways in recovery from the injuries i sustained back at the golden house. and they wouldn’t be a very good medic if they just let me slow down my own healing process, now, would they?”

you two share a knowing look and you give him an approving nod- and as everyone follows suit to look over to you, you fold your arms and pose out proudly, fully drinking up the praise towards your skill.

“anyway, i’m no signora. i don’t use lethal force against recruits, come on now…”

teucer scratches his chin in confusion. “the foul legacy transformation? does it make you stronger than mr. cyclops?”

“ahah… you could say that.” paimon laughs awkwardly.

“i wanna learn how to fight too! i wanna be cool like you!”

“now teucer, fighting isn’t about looking cool. you can only continue to get stronger if you know the reason why you’re fighting.” childe gestures to his younger brother in a lecturing manner.

“i can teach you. but think carefully first- why do you want to fight?”

“i…”

“hm?”

“..i want to protect sister tonia.”

the breath is taken from your chest for a moment. you don’t know what exactly you were expecting teucer’s answer to be but it was certainly not that. it’s so noble and honest and so… ajax, in a sense. you can’t describe what it is, but it sends you back to the times where you and ajax would have late-night deep talks inside pillow forts, whenever he slept over at your house. you’d deliberate about your lives and ambitions and you’d hear ajax express how much he aspired to become like the heroes in his father’s tales. courageous and selfless, so he could brace his fears and protect his loved ones. it’s uncertain if childe recalls the same memory as you, but he’s just as visibly pleased with teucer’s answer.

he pats the younger boy on the top of his head tenderly. “that’s a good answer teucer. when i return to snezhnaya, i will start teaching you fighting techniques.

then, you’ll have to protect tonia for me- how does that sound?”

“hehe, leave it to me!”

“you’ve had a nice long time here in liyue, haven’t you? isn’t it about time you took the boat back home?”

teucer pouts. “but, but… but you’ve been so busy, and we didn’t get any time to play together yet..”

“teucer, you know i’m very busy at work.. and hasn’t it been fun traveling all over the place with y/n and two proper travelers?”

you can tell childe feels like he hasn’t spent enough time with his brother either, but his worry about keeping up the toy seller appearance to protect teucer overcomes him. today has been nothing but close calls for him.

“w-well, how ‘bout this? if you just do one little thing for me, i’ll be a good boy and go back home!”

“oh dear, who taught this little devil to bargain.. alright, what’ll it be?” childe chuckles.

“take me to visit the institute of toy research!”

what? surely he doesn’t mean the research lab… once again, childe seems to have the same thought as you and you take the opportunity to throw him an incredulous, threatening look- as if to tell him ‘this might be your most gods awful idea yet if you take him there..’, but seemingly to no avail.

“done deal. after all, you’ve come all this way for me, teucer…”

childe persuades the traveler and paimon into taking teucer back to the facility at lingju pass and they take off soon after. you decide to stay behind and hopefully steer the harbinger away from the idea and he only faces you in waiting, like he already expects you to reprimand him. you cross your arms disappointedly and sigh.

“you know what i’m about to say to you, right?”

“hm, i might have an idea or two but just-“

“childe, that’s not just some abandoned facility for tourists to frolic inside- it’s dottore’s research lab and it’s active! if the machines inside that place don’t crush us all the second we walk inside, then surely my boss will do worse to us if we put anything out of place. i mean, this whole ordeal started because i had to go regulate the lab, then we found teucer and had to take him elsewhere so nothing bad would happen, who in their right mind-“

two strong, gloved hands come up to hold either side of your face.

the touch is somehow firm enough to effectively shut you up and hold up your head as to fully face childe, but still gentle enough as to not hurt or startle you. the committer of the act stares you right in the eyes, a doting look is apparent on his own azure gaze.

“y/n. answer this simply, do you trust me?”

there’s a pause as you process the development of the literal last 3 seconds and think of an answer- though the distracting, fluttering sensation in your chest also factors in the time you take to actually speak.

“w-well, it’s- it’s not about trusting you or-“

“do. you. trust. me?”

another pause. you look into his eyes as deep as you can and search for anything that says that maybe there’s an off-chance you shouldn’t trust him, but there’s nothing. he’s shown himself more than capable of steering situations back in his control today and it doesn’t need to be spoken how serious he is about protecting his family, even a scratch on teucer’s cheek would be a last case scenario to him. you sigh.

“i trust you, ajax.”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

[sepdet]

Have you SEEN the original moon landing feed, especially the scary bit near the end?

Now stay with me. I grew up hearing about these few minutes from my parents (in fact I took the TV they watched it on to grad school; DS9 and Babylon5 worked well in b&w).

This is even crazier than it looks like.

My parents were both scientists, my grandmother a planetarium director, and my dad was just about to land his job at a rocket company that built 95 small rockets that were part of the UpGoer Saturn V. (Yeah. Just the small ones. Saturn V was a BEAST.)

So my parents had a fair idea how dangerous this was, how Neil going manual was a bad sign, and just how close he was to running empty and crashing. They knew the problem that every ounce of fuel you carry requires even more fuel to lift off, so the Eagle was built light, carrying no excess weight even in fuel (it had to lift off the Moon with no rocket, after all).

But they didn't learn until years later just how jury-rigged and bespoke Apollo technology was. Every vehicle and part was designed like a Mythbusters build: extremely customized for the procedures it had to accomplish, using parts and even technology invented for specific mission tasks.

rope memory, predecessor to modern silicon chips: 1s and 0s woven by women (of course) at a Massachusetts textile plant

At the time, computers were the size of rooms and very touchy. Apollo's computer memory was core rope memory, never used before or since, to save space. The read/write guidance computer, too, was woven: physical media could better survive the rigors of space travel. (I suspect even my parents don't know it also used some of the very first integrated circuits, soldered by hand under a microscope by Navajo women).

Spacesuits were (and still are) designed and hand-stitched by Playtex bramakers. The lunar rovers' wheels were titanium meshes woven with piano wire to let dust through, and even had a clever navigation system despite no GPS or magnetic north.

They couldn't test these rigs with computer modeling. They didn't know for sure what the moon's surface would be like, apart from basic parameters like low gravity and near vacuum and a temperature ranging from 250°F in the sun to -250° in the shade. And it was nearly impossible to test for or practice in those conditions on Earth.

And then there were the unknowns. A massive solar flare between Apollo 16 and 17 might have killed or sickened them too much to operate their ship.

While the spacesuit and to some extent the rover design carried on, a lot of these hacks were so unusual that they might as well be alien tech. (I'm sorry woven technology fell out of vogue for several decades.) That goes some way towards explaining why humans haven't left Earth orbit since I was two.

The other problem, of course, is expense. Tech for human space exploration requires as much R&D and testing as fighter planes, which have developed through a century of multiple countries' military budgets. Human space programs are lucky to last two presidents; the next president usually doesn't think giving glory to his predecessor is a good use of money.

So for 40 years, NASA has mostly worked with other countries on human spaceflight or built robot explorers that can be launched in 3-4 years before Congress or the president can axe the program. They're less likely to shut down a mission when 99.99% of the money's been spent, and all that's left to do is download data and uplink occasional instructions.

TL:DR; Congress and the White House keep flashing the equivalent of that computer error message, every time NASA gets ready to send humans into space again. Overload. Abort mission.

Unless, you know, American citizens start saying Go. Go. Go. Go. We have some pretty important priorities down here on Earth (which Amazon and Disney and oil companies should be footing the bill for, though they try not to), but I bet the military can cough up the cost of a few fighter jets.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello all :) I wanted to post this yesterday but had some technical difficulties. Also thank you to all those that have liked, commented or reblogged my reviews. Very Encouraging so thank you. Glad to have you all along with me. As always will credit all gif usage at the end.

Onward we go to 1x03 'The Good the Bad and the Ugly.'

Tim is back on duty after his gun shot wound. He’s is not ready physically and most definitely not emotionally. Despite that all Lucy is glad to have him back riding with her. Tim replying like early S1 Tim would in regards to her being glad he's back. Reserved and Cocky.

They Get their first call of the day at a bank with a man trapped behind an ATM wall. Tim takes charge like he doesn't have a wound in his side. Keeps going till he's grimacing and in major pain.

Theme of Tim Bradford in the early days. Man doesn’t ask for help. Ever. So when he’s hacking at that wall he’s trying to prove to himself he’s fine. The gunshot wound doesn’t affect him. When his body is telling him otherwise. Instead of asking Lucy to help to him he barks at her asking why he’s doing this and not her. S1 Tim you’re so rough around the edges my love. Don’t you worry Lucy is gonna soften those edges slowly but surely Haha

After Lucy fails a mini Tim test (gif set I just could not seem to find) Of him stealing her duty belt because she didn't secure the bathroom properly. He receives a phone call about Isabel OD'ing. Another set I could not find is Isabel basically ripping into Tim. Telling him to leave her alone to ‘Save your tough love for someone else’ and boy does he ever.... Lucy gets quite the helping in this episode.

We know he is very much no where close to being 'Okay' After his convo with Isabel he is out of control angry. Doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Too damn blinded by his hurt. It shows in their next call with the biker gang. By putting not only his healing self in danger but Lucy. He’s so desperate for help but refusing to ask again. So instead he implodes. Fights a biker gang prospect. Searching desperately for an outlet for his frustration/anger. Doing it in the worst way imaginable. He’s in so much pain he cannot see straight. Poor Lucy can only stand there and watch him self destruct. Luckily he wins the tussle but it comes at a cost.

In s5 Tim bringing up his past with Isabel to Lucy. This is what he's referring to. How it cost him nearly everything emotionally. Unless you watch s1 recently you forget how badly he was burned. How she utterly wrecked him. Watching her destroy him with a 2 min convo hurts to watch. He was adrift in his emotions and drowning at a fast pace. He needed a life line so badly. He had no idea that life line would show up in the form of Lucy Chen. The Ray of sunshine that challenges his ass and puts him in place like no one has before.

By the time they get back to station she's crawling out of her skin with worry for Tim. She has no idea what she should do if anything. He is her superior officer after all but he's also endangering them both. By the time she gets their "suspect" into booking Tim is still in a bad head space from his convo at the hospital. Checking out NARCAN clearly for Isabel. They pull up to Isabel's apt and Lucy is restless in the car when he tells her to stay put. She can't take it any longer and jumps out to confront him.

She takes a deep breath and starts her fight to save Tim's sanity. To keep him from going completely off the edge and taking her with him. That’s what makes what Lucy does in this scene so incredible. One she's barely 3 weeks at best into her working relationship with him and two It was like fighting the sun with Tim in s1. She not only stood up for herself she put him in his place. He had been encased in his emotions so long he lost clarity completely. He couldn’t see past his pain. So she took a stand and won.

The biggest part of this moment is he concedes, listens and lets her take control of the situation. Has her run the NARCAN up to Isabel. I can’t even begin with how massive this is. This obstinate, grumpy man who would scare most rookies into washing out didn’t stand a chance against Lucy Chen. Its one of the main reasons he falls in love with her. She challenges him and rights him when he’s on the worst path. That look of defeat and resignation on his face. He know's he in the wrong and can't fight her anymore on this. Eric once again crushing it. Killing me softly good sir. His face says it all.

This following scene back in the shop is underrated and beautiful. Something about Lucy draws out his vulnerable side whether he likes it or not. The crack she started in ep 2 continues its growth in this ep. Her standing up to him, laying down boundaries and bringing him back to earth earned her this moment with him. Tim opening up to her. Sharing what I'm sure no one else has heard.

The most beautiful part is she’s doing it for more than the fact he’s her T.O. She cares about him as a person. He's realizing this and its why he's opening up to her right now. He's baring his soul to her and there couldn't be a better person to accept it. Why she follows up the way she does. Lucy is very aware how precious the information that is being shared with her is.

Her telling him about her apt is her olive branch back. It’s not much in the grand scheme of things just looking at this conversation. Telling him this as her reply. But it means the world to him. She knows this which is why she lets him know her apt is decent. It’s what he needs to hear.

Listening to him let out the deep breathe and tell her ‘Thanks’ it’s a loaded thanks. It means so much more than that single word, but once again this is s1 Tim so the fact she’s getting this is big. Its what he needs to hear in order to to be able to drive away from her apt. She's given him peace of mind to be able to do so.

We barrel towards the end of the episode. Tim and Lucy chasing one of the two remaining suspects. They corner him and once again just like at the beginning of the ep Tim can’t ask for help. He physically can’t climb the top of that truck. Lucy knows this and helps him out. Saying it would be ‘good for her training’ for her to do it. Tim goes along with it because his pride can’t handle it otherwise. She conducts herself flawlessly of course.

She’s so proud of herself and he can’t allow her to see he is too. He’s already been too ‘soft’ today for her. He always defaults back to being the hard ass whenever he opens up in the very beginning with her because S1 Tim be S1 Tim.

~~~~

Side Notes non Chenford.

I love Grey taking Tim out for a drink. Poor man needed it so much.

Talia being soft for the train burglar and his son.

Not much side stuff to mention this was a pretty heavy Chenford building ep and I’m happy with that.

Please like/comment if you can I love it when people do either hehe

Gif Credit To

Chenfordsbee

Chenfordsource

Chenfordgifs

[dungeonofthedragon]

TTRPGS that can be played in an hour!

We don't always have as much time on our hands as we'd like. But hey, everyone should get to enjoy the activities they love! Here are some wonderful ttrpgs for 2 or more players that can be played in an hour or thereabouts.

By Moth or Moonlight by A Smouldering Lighthouse

Cost: pwyw

A lovely little hack of Wanderhome. This low-key, diceless game can be played in whatever spare time you have. Easy to pick up and put down, it's a perfect gentle adventure to relax with after a long day.

Explorers of the Forever City by Sam Robson

Cost: $2 USD

This is a rules-light, fantasy rpg set in a massive city where magic is outlawed but fragments of a long magical history can be found everywhere. Explorers of the Forever City is designed to be played over multiple sessions, but each session is around an hour long. In that hour the characters go on an adventure, uncover some secrets, and then explore how this affects their day-to-day lives.

Magica by Emmeryn

Cost: pwyw

Magica is a micro-rpg about playing magical girls...who are secretly in love with one another. Dramatic, magical, and quick to play!

The Witch is Dead by Grant Howitt

Cost: pwyw

Howitt has published lots of games which are entertaining to read and quick to play (Honey Heist perhaps being his most famous.) The Witch is Dead is about a group of familiars getting revenge on the witch hunter who slew their mistress. It's quick, hilarious, and (likely) gory.