#i am looking at YOU tech nation

[neon-junkie]

have we really got to the point in fandoms where characters can’t have partners? and people can’t self ship, even if a character has a partner?

not to be ‘fandom old,’ or bring up the ‘good old fandom days,’ but back in my day, it was encouraged for canon characters to get partners, and self shippers to continue self shipping, even if said character has a partner.

fiction is fiction, after all. it isn’t real. and there is no harm in simply having fun - for both you, and the fictional characters alike.

characters are allowed to have partners. you are still allowed to self-ship, or even pair them up with an OC. none of this is ‘real,’ so have fun, just stop being a baby if your blorbo winds up with another blorbo

[reasonsforhope]

Given the misinformation that's been going around and will be going around, thought this might be helpful to some people

For a lot of reasons, I'm very good at this/at searching, to the point where I have worked as a professional fact-checker for two different publishers. So, here goes:

My Article Fact-Checking Protocol

Thorough Version

Read the full article. Keep an eye out for emotionally loaded words, and all-or-nothing language

Keep an eye out or anything that sounds too good to be true, and in contrast, anything that sounds so awful it must be true

Run the website/source through the amazing Media Bias/Fact Check. They'll tell you about a publication's bias and history of accuracy

Go to the website's home page and read through the headlines. Look at what topics they cover/prioritize, sensationalist headlines, and whether they're framing anything in a way that feels odd/off to you

Do a search related to the topic. This can be keywords, a question, or even just copy-paste the article title (Recommended: use DuckDuckGo so the results don't change based on what Google thinks they can sell you)

If multiple highly credible sources that say the same thing pop up, and there's no major societal biases that might affect the coverage of the topic in those sources (e.g. anything related to the Israel-Palestine conflict/Palestinian genocide, no matter which side), then I'm done!

If there are major societal biases, or I can't get a consensus of sufficiently credible sources, then I do some combination of:

(1) search the topic again + the words "controversy" and/or "fake"

(2) search the opposite of the topic, or do some sort of other filtered search

(3) look up a sufficiently credible news outlet with the opposite point of view of my source, and see what they have to say

(4) if it's a big enough topic, start by looking up 2 of the top national papers and 1 major paper for your region (I usually do the ones in the US, because that's where I am In the US: the LA Times, the Washington Post, and the NY Times)

Adjust "news" to "relevant type of source, e.g. tech, environmental" as relevant for all of the above options

If no red flags come up, and it's a topic I understand enough to smell huge bullshit,

Then I'm usually done!

If there are red flags, or I actually need a certain amount of detail/understanding, then it gets more complicated, but that would be a whole other thing to break down and such

or

tl;dr

Quick Version

Read the full article. Keep an eye out for emotionally loaded words, and all-or-nothing language

Keep an eye out or anything that sounds too good to be true, and in contrast, anything that sounds so awful it must be true.

If I don't know the website:

Run the website/source through the amazing Media Bias/Fact Check. They'll tell you about a publication's bias and history of accuracy

If I trust the source, but something else pinged my radar:

Do a quick web search to verify anything that sounds suspicious or too good/bad to be true (Recommended: use DuckDuckGo)

[ur4niumgl4ss]

Czech Miku at her worst, she is beauty, she is grace, she has spent 3 days on majáles consuming nothing but lukewarm pilsner and langoš and now she has fallen straight on her face.

Breakdown of her design below the cut!

Her hair is badly dyed with schwarzkopf live electric blue dye because thats usualy the only blue you can get here in regular stores without ordering online or looking into specialized stores and usualy winds up being the first unusual dye color people try.

Her shirt being RUR is a refrence to a play by Karel Čapek which coined the term "robot", felt fitting for her as a vocaloid.

Cargo shorts, plaid shirt, fanny pack and socks with sandals are just a must like thats tradition at this point.

Her bag is the rainbow pride bag from flying tiger. Many queer people here just own this bag because its easy to get and looks fun.

Can of caffeine pomelo birel - caffeinated non alcoholic pomelo flavored beer, i'd draw her with a regular pilsner because yeah but i felt like this better showed the deranged shit czech people do with beer for the fun of it

Smažák - deep fried block of cheese with fried and tartar sauce my beloved. Ofc it has to be on a greasy paper plate.

I also put a Pilsen tram card on her belt loop :)

Her hair is meant to be shaped to resemble a lion mane and 2 lion tails as a refrence to the czech lion ☆

Her tattoos are:

(Right arm) Alzák - an alien mascot for a tech seller company alza, known to have am extremely annoying nasaly voice which quickly made him a huge meme. People usualy wanna murder him.

(Left arm) Robot Zajac - a side character from a russian cartoon called Nu pogodi zajac that many people in czechia (including me) grew up with. He's fucked up and i love him.

(Left leg) Linden tree leaf - linden is the national tree

(Right leg) Vodník by Jozef Lada - a czech folk creature guy

Vole cože - "bitch what"

I♡ pórek - "I♡ leek"

Nikam vole - "nowhere fucker"

I love this trend and thought it'd be fun to do my own spin on it :D I live in Pilsen now so i considered drawing her in a Pilsen kroj but i figured i'd have more fun designing her to look like me and my friends :3

[irisintheafterglow]

You Are In Love (Gojo Satoru x You)

summary: you can't stop dreaming about him, and your friends start to notice a change in your behavior. (2.4k words)

cw/tags: mild angst to comfort, friends to lovers, pining, idiots in love, profanity, elder sorcerers being assholes, pet names (doll, gorgeous, etc), uhh gojo loses his cool and blows up a building lol, kissing, one instance of foreshadowing manga spoilers but only if you squint

note: HELLOO GOJO NATION. ok so i'll be so honest with you, this stupid man was my #1 for so long and i think those feelings resurfaced so i got a little carried away with writing this (it's my longest fic so far, my bad). but yk something about gojo, hawks, and kuroo all being played by the voice actor just gets me. the prompt for this is from the AMAZING @creativepromptsforwriting and was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full fic. anyways, hope you enjoy it!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!

“It’s too quiet. Can I tell you guys a joke I heard on TV?”

“Mmm, please don’t.”

“But it’s funny!”

“Satoru.”

“Ooh, using my first name. Something’s up with you.”

“Something is not up with me, weirdo.” 

“No, something is definitely off with you today.” You thought Suguru and Shoko had stopped listening, but they chimed in with evidence of your odd behavior.

“You said good morning differently,” Shoko added, casually taking a sip of her soda and peering at you over the rim. Her hair sways gently in the breeze outside of the convenience store you four had stopped at before heading back to Jujutsu Tech. You glare at her and open your mouth to defend yourself when Suguru adds his two cents. 

“You tripped up during that last mission that should have been a cakewalk,” which was true, but you thought your mistake had gone unnoticed. The truth was, the spirit had caught you off guard with a simple teleport trick. It warped behind you and unlatched its grotesque jaws to end your life faster than you could blink. You should have been able to predict the movement with your eyes closed, but you’d been too focused on making sure a certain white-haired sorcerer was alive after your group had been ambushed several hundred feet underground. Suguru had given you a curious look after one of his demons saved your ass, and you’d flipped him off hoping that would be the end of it. “And you also flipped me the bird instead of saying thank you,” he shrugged.

“You also finish your food the fastest out of all of us, and today you haven’t even taken three bites,” Shoko says, finishing her drink and standing to toss it in the trash bin. “Something’s going on with you, and I, for one, am incredibly curious as to why.” Satoru watches you with a smug glint in his eye, and it takes all your willpower not to strangle him. 

“As glad as I am to know that you all pay such great attention to my habits, I promise there’s nothing wrong.” The three of them stare at you skeptically but thankfully decided to drop the subject, instead pivoting to who’s most likely to go to jail first (it’s Gojo). 

After the late lunch, you begin the walk back to Jujutsu Tech as the sky transforms into faded shades of orange and pink. The vanishing sun casts shining reflections on the surrounding skyscrapers, bouncing off the windows of speeding cars and zooming trains. Satoru and Suguru walk ahead, playfully shoving each other and almost falling over doing so. 

“Alright, are you gonna tell me what’s going on now that Dumb and Dumber aren’t here?” Shoko asks as she falls into step with you. The sides of your mouth turn down, realizing that she didn’t forget about your conversation at lunch. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell your closest friends what was going on; you just didn’t know how to explain what you had dreamed about the previous night and the night before that, and all the nights the past two weeks. 

It began with a look he had given you after a meeting with some higher-ups in the sorcerer world. They had visited Jujutsu Tech unexpectedly, stating that they would be evaluating the skill levels of random students. Out of your group of friends, only you and Satoru had been pulled to be tested. Principal Yaga had instructed both of you before entering the room to give the evaluation your best effort and to not become indignant if they judged you poorly. 

The brass declared your evaluation to be first, and you poured all of your energy into showcasing the power of your Cursed Technique. You even managed to pull off a few strikes of extension techniques that you’d been perfecting for months. Though the entire performance lasted less than ten minutes, you were breathless and light-headed when the panel told you to stop. After bowing deeply, you moved to exit the room, desperate for fresh air, but they stopped you and began listing every single reason why your demonstration was unsatisfactory. Besides “inefficient technique, predictable attacks, weak offense, insufficient defense,” and a general lack of power compared to that of other sorcerers at your level, they informed you that your Cursed Technique was obsolete and would eventually render you useless as more innately talented sorcerers take your place. You were speechless at their blunt criticism of your effort, on the verge of breaking down, but you managed to nod in acknowledgment as you stepped out of the room.

But then you saw him sitting there, waiting on his phone and looking up at you with a bright smile as he stood to greet you. A confusing blend of disappointment, anger, sadness, and loneliness panged in your heart and spread to the rest of your body, and you rapidly tried to blink away the moisture welling up in your eyes while Satoru approached. He was halfway through a snarky remark about you blowing away their expectations when his smile dropped and his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shit, he’d noticed you crying. 

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me. What the fuck did they do to you?” Dashing blue eyes found yours through the clouds in your vision, and his thumbs gently brushed away stray tears that escaped down your cheeks. 

“Do you think I’m weak, Satoru?” Your voice cracks when the words finally spill out, swallowing hard to push down the sobs threatening to break loose from your constricted lungs. Satoru freezes, eyes searching yours. He doesn’t answer your question immediately, but instead asks again. 

“Doll, what the fuck did they do.” You can’t get a reply out in time before his focus snaps up to behind you, and a second later you hear the door roll open, one of the officials commanding Satoru to enter for his evaluation. His large hands hold your face and turn you to look up at him, and you move unconsciously to cover his hands with yours. “Stay here for me, okay?” He glanced at the official waiting in the doorway, blue eyes dark with suppressed rage. “This won’t take long.”

His evaluation lasts two minutes and four seconds. At first, the room was silent and you couldn’t hear any demonstration of Satoru’s technique, almost as if the panel was having a conversation with him before they began. Then, at two minutes on the dot, the room was blown to splinters. The door, the ceiling, the porch, and all of the furniture inside were violently thrown outward in an explosion that made the ground beneath your feet tremble. Curiously, none of the debris had hit you, but you coughed through the dust and saw that the panel hadn’t been so lucky, all of them buried under shredded beams of wood and canvas. And, standing at the center of the room’s remains with a satisfied grin plastered on his beautiful face, was Satoru. He found his way over to where you stood in disbelief and took your hand in his, interweaving your fingers and guiding you away from the ruined building. 

You two walked hand-in-hand in silence back to your dorm, where he seemed reluctant to let go of your hand. Before he walked away, he finally answered your question from earlier. 

“I tell you this not just as your friend, but as another sorcerer. You are not weak. Your technique is special and something that those shithead elders haven’t seen in decades, and they don’t like what they don’t understand. I know the thought of leaving Jujutsu Tech crossed your pretty little mind, but you shouldn’t. People need you here, Shoko, Suguru, Mei Mei...” He hesitated, taking a shallow breath and reaching back for your hand. 

“Me,” he said, his voice low, and his voice got even softer until it was almost a breath. “I need you here.” As quickly as the fondness in his voice appeared, it disappeared. “And, plus, you definitely can’t leave us here with ol’ Yaga. What the hell am I gonna do if I can’t hide in your room while he’s trying to beat my ass?” 

You laugh, and the feeling makes you feel better. He makes you feel better. You smile back at him and finally bid him farewell, and he raises your hand to his lips as he says goodbye. 

After that, he’d appeared in your dreams for two weeks straight. The dreams started as a continuation of what would have happened if you didn’t just say goodbye to him, if you’d invited him into your dorm, or if you’d let him pull you into his. They transformed after the fourth day into what it would be like to love him and receive his love in return: stolen kisses, flirty whispers, and movie dates to name a few. All these dreams added up to the previous night’s nightmare, where a mission had gone bad and he’d been imprisoned with no hope of breaking him free. You’d startled awake covered in sweat, and barely fell back asleep before your alarm forced you to start the day. 

“It’s… hard to explain,” you reply apologetically, and Shoko looks at you with so much skepticism written on her face that you have to turn away and look in the other direction. 

“So something is bothering you.” 

“Yeah, there is. I’m sorry; it’s just really, really hard to verbalize.”

“Can I take a stab at what’s bothering you?”

“If you could actually stab it that’d be great, but sure. Knock yourself out.”

“It’s Satoru, isn’t it?” You stop mid-stride and her face lights up with amusement. “Holy shit, it’s Satoru. You like Gojo Satoru.”

“Jeez, Shoko, go ahead and say his name four hundred million times, why don’t you? But really, what tipped you off?”

“Ten seconds ago when you asked me to stab your problem, I figured it out,” she chuckles, bumping her shoulder against yours playfully. “If it’s any consolation, I’m 99% sure he’s felt that way about you for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know?”

“Would you let me off the hook if I said it was hard to explain?”

“Har, har, very funny. Could you at least try?” 

“Mmm, I think it’s better if he explains it himself.” 

“You’re no help, Shoko.”

“Yes, and you love me anyway. But not as much as you love Sa–” You groan, covering your burning face in both hands and increasing the speed of your steps to escape your friend’s teasing chuckles. 

When you finally arrive at school, the stars have started rising and the moon hangs in the sky. You walk in the direction of the dorms when Shoko suddenly unlinks her elbow from yours, winking at you over your shoulder. 

“Suguru, can you help me move something from the gym real quick? I forgot a few things over there.” 

“Sure, but why do you need my help?” Shoko gives him a pointed look and realization quickly washes over his features. “Oh, OH. Okay, of course, sure.” Suguru turns on his heel awkwardly, briskly walking in the direction of the gym.

“Satoru, walk them back to their dorm. Don’t want anything happening to them after their little slip today,” she adds before heading in the other direction with Suguru, who tries and fails to communicate something to Satoru with a nod of his head. 

“Alright, pretty girl, you heard Shoko. C’mere and let me walk you home before she beats my ass.”

“I think you have too many people on this planet that want to beat your ass. And, for the record, I’m one of them.”

“It’s the price of being this gorgeous, gorgeous.” A soft laugh escapes your mouth, and you swear Satoru’s smile gets a little wider. The rest of the short walk to your dorm is just as easy and comfortable, Satoru making stupid comments and you replying with a quick remark over and over until you’re back in the same situation you’d been in two weeks ago. But, this time, you realized that Satoru was a lot closer to you, leaning back against your door with your hand touching the handle but not opening it. You both spend a few moments there, just looking at each other, and his mesmerizing eyes flicker to your mouth when you unconsciously lick your lips. He opens his mouth to say something smart, but you beat him to it. 

“If you’re gonna look down at my lips and say something stupid about it, you might as well do what I’ve been wanting you to do for ages.” 

“Oh? And what’s that, pretty girl?”

You sigh in mock disappointment and look up at him through your eyelashes. “If you don’t know what it is by now, then I guess… you don’t deserve to do it.” His pupils are blown wide with desire, and you resist the impulse to laugh. 

“God, you’re intoxicating,” he says, before pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut and you melt into him, arms snaking around his neck while his hands find your waist and hold you up from your knees that have turned to jelly. The first kiss is gentle and experimental, but having the flirtiest asshole in the country chasing your lips as you briefly pull away gives you a newfound wave of confidence, pulling him closer and closer until his body is flush against yours. When you finally pull away from each other and catch your breath, he doesn’t go very far, resting his forehead against yours. 

“You know, I wanted to kill them. Those wrinkly assholes two weeks ago that had the gall to call you weak. And I would have, you know I would have, but you were outside… and you were crying… I just didn’t know what to do. I saw red, and, uh, then the building exploded.” You chuckle at his confession and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, rubbing his nose against yours. 

“I had a dream about you. Well, a lot of dreams.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Got a little nervous today when I heard you talk with Shoko about liking a boy, but it helps knowing now that the boy is me. And, hopefully, it will only ever be me.”

“You pretentious asshole.”

“You know it.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” 

“I know you are.”

“And I’m never going anywhere.” He kisses your forehead sweetly, and it’s just like the dreams that had plagued you for weeks before. “Ever.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unmanageable 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Pete Brenner

Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A thump jolts you from your work. You glance over lazily, chin cupped in your hand, as the murmur of voices follow. You cluck and reach for your earbuds, popping them in your ears before you can hear the subsequent disturbance.

Your job isn't glorious. Nothing really is in Hammer Ford. You're the line IT tech at the local bank working on ancient PCs which can't handle the national system's updates. Most of your time is spent trying to make a simple process work.

Work is work. You could do much worse than sitting forgotten behind a desk as the bank manager gets his jollies off with the clerk. This decrepit town can't offer much better, in terms of both male counterparts and career prospects.

The wired buds don't really block out the ruckus. You lean on an elbow and clack away at your keyboard. It never lasts very long.

You pluck away as the clock above your door ticks on. You yawn with your eyes open, dropping lower and lower as your eyes glaze over. A knock has your spine straight.

You clear your throat and call out, "yes?"

The door opens. Pete, the manager, fixes his tie as he enters, one tail of his shirt untucked, "hey, uh, I was having some issues with my laptop. I know it's not a work device but... I don't wanna drive all the way to the city."

"Hmm, I can have a look after work," you shrug. It's usually nothing. You typically have people calling on you for support outside your office walls.

"After work..." he repeats, "the wife kinda is expecting me to take her out for dinner, so..."

You repress a sigh. He is the manager. If you fall behind, it will only be his own fault.

"Sure, you need me right now?"

His eye brow tweaks and he drags his fingers around his half-grown goatee, "need you... oh, yeah, should I bring it to you or..."

"What's easier for you, sir?"

He chuckles, "you know, you're the only person who calls me that."

You just stare at him. He's your boss and you'd like to keep it that way. You get up, "here, I'll just come look."

"Thanks, sweetie," he grins as you cross the office, "life saver."

"Mhm," you hum as you near him.

He doesn't move. He just stands, his arm across the doorway and watches you. You look past him and clear your throat.

"Right, right," he steps back and swings his arms down, "the computer."

He retreats and turns away. As he does, you see Marska giving him a flustered look. Gross.

You follow him into his office and waits by the door as you pass. You try not to think of what just happened in there. Thankfully, you're not his type.

You wince as the door clicks shut.

"Oh, you don't have to--"

"Right," he overrides your protest, "I'll just get my laptop."

He goes around his desk and pulls out a sleek macbook. You don't see many of those. He puts it facing you and opens the lid.

"I'll let you poke around," he says as he presses his fingertip to the censor to unlock it, "it's just the damn mousepad."

"Right," you step up and squint at the screen. You lean in touch the pad. It's definitely lagging.

He strides away, pacing on the other side of the desk, hands in his pockets.

"Thing's too fancy for me," he scoffs, "but I like the look of it."

"It's a good machine," you confirm as you go into his drivers, searching for updates.

You feel him watching you but shrug it off. Everyone's a little touchy when you're on their personal device. He stops and bounces on his feet.

The cursor continues to jump around as you scroll and suddenly a window pops open. Safari resumes it's last tab and you quickly hit command W as you see a pending wheel atop a very explicit video. Yikes.

You try to not show the slip up as you go back to searching the drivers, "you got antivirus?"

"Uhhh, I think," he answers as if it isn't essential.

"Hm, doesn't look like it," you mutter, "I'm updating the mouse driver but you need security software."

"Right," he comes around as you click through the system window to update. He stands behind you and watches over your shoulder, "got any recs? I'll get it set up right away."

"Bitdefender's good," you suggest.

"Mm," he leans down, against you, putting his hands on the desk on either side of the laptop, "think you could show me where to find that."

"I can send you a link," you grit out, prickling at his proximity.

"Well," you move your arm back, prodding him with your elbow, soft enough for it to seem accidental, "that should be fine once it updates."

He huffs but backs away. Your neck is stiff with tension. You face him and check your watch.

"I'll get back to it," you say.

"Yeah, thanks, sweetie," he chimes, "sure you don't want a coffee? Take a load off."

"I'm good," you insist, "got a lot to do."

You open the door before he can catch up to you. As you leave, Marska watches over her shoulder from the front desk. You ignore her and quickly hide in your office. Knowing Pete isn't too aware of security procedures, you should do a review of the serves to make sure everything's safe.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Stellantis wants to make scabbing woke

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

I know, I know, it's weird when the worst people you know are right, even when they're right for the wrong reasons: like, the "Intelligence Community" is genuinely terrible, pharma companies are murderous crooks, and Big Tech really does have a dangerous grip on public debate. The swivel-eyed loons have a point, is what I'm saying:

https://locusmag.com/2023/05/commentary-cory-doctorow-the-swivel-eyed-loons-have-a-point/

When conspiratorialists and reactionaries holler about how the FBI are dirty-tricking creeps who are framing Trump, it's tempting to say, "well, if Trumpists hate the FBI, then I will love the FBI. Who cares about COINTELPRO and what they did to Martin Luther King?"

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_suicide_letter

It's a process called "schizmogenesis": forming new group identity beliefs based on saying the opposite of what your enemies say, and as tempting as that is, it's extraordinarily foolish and dangerous:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

It means that canny reactionaries like Steve Bannon can trick you into taking any position merely by taking the opposite one. Bannon's followers are even more easily led, so it's easy for him to convince them that we have always been at war with Oceania. The right has created an entire mirror world of "I know you are but what am I?" politics.

Anti-vax co-opts "bodily autonomy." Climate denial becomes environmentalism ("wind turbines kill birds"). Transphobia becomes feminism ("keep women-only spaces for real women"). Support for strongmen becomes anti-imperialism ("don't feed the war machine in Ukraine"). These are the doppelgangers Naomi Klein warns us against:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

The far right has even managed to co-opt anti-corporate rhetoric. Culture warriors rail against "woke capitalism," insisting that when big businesses take socially progressive positions, it's just empty "virtue signalling." And you know what? They've got a point. Partially.

As with all mirror-world politics, the anti-woke-capitalism shuck is designed to convince low-information right-wing pismires into buying "anti-woke pillows" and demanding the right to pay junk fees to "own the libs":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

But woke capitalism is bullshit. Corporations – profit-maximizing immortal transhuman colony organisms that view workers and customers as inconvenient gut-flora – do not care about social justice. They don't care about anything, except for minimizing compensation for workers while maximizing the risk those workers bear; and locking in and gouging customers for products that are as low-quality as can be profitably sold.

Take DEI, a favored target of the right. It's undoubtably true that diversity, inclusion and equity initiatives have made some inroads on correcting bias in hiring decisions, with the result that companies get better employees who would have been excluded without this explicit corrective.

However, corporations don't value DEI because they abhor their history of hiring bias. Instead, DEI is how corporate management demonstrates to workers that their grievances are best addressed by trusting corporate leadership to correct their error of their ways – and not by forming a union.

Before the passage of the National Labor Relations Act in 1935, corporations would create fake "Company Unions" whose leadership were beholden to the company executives. These were decoy unions: they looked and sounded like unions, but when they negotiated with management, they were actually working for the bosses, not the workers.

This is more mirror-world tactics. They're the labor equivalent of the "crisis pregnancy centers" that masquerade as abortion clinics in order to fool pregnant people and trap them with endless delays until it's too late to terminate their pregnancies. Company unions get workers to trust in negotiators who are secretly working for the bosses, who emerge from the bargaining table with one-sided, abusive contracts and insist that this is the best deal workers can hope for.

Company unions were outlawed 90 years ago, and for decades, labor had a seat at the table, with wages tracking productivity gains and workers getting protection for discrimination, unsafe labor conditions, and wage-theft. Then came the neoliberal turn, and 40 years of wage stagnation, increased inequality, and corporate rule.

Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. Finally, finally, we have reached a turning point in labor, with public approval for unions at levels not seen since the Carter administration and thousands of strikes and protests breaking out across the country:

https://striketracker.ilr.cornell.edu/

It's not just the Writers Guild and SAG-AFTRA, either. For the first time in history, the UAW is striking against all the major automakers, and they are winning:

https://arstechnica.com/cars/2023/10/striking-uaw-workers-win-key-battery-plant-concession-from-general-motors/

The automakers are getting desperate. Stellantis – Chrysler's latest alias, reflecting the company's absorbtion into corporate-human-centipede of global carmakers – has mobilized its DEI programs, trying to get marginalized people to believe that scabbing is a liberatory activity:

https://theintercept.com/2023/10/10/uaw-auto-strike-stellantis/

Stellantis calls each of its DEI silos a "Business Resource Group" (BRG): there's a "Working Parents Network," an "African Ancestry Network," "Asians Connected Together," a "DiverseAbilities Network," a "Gay & Lesbian Alliance" and more:

https://blog.stellantisnorthamerica.com/2021/07/20/business-resource-groups-drive-inclusion-and-diversity/

The corporate managers who lead these BRGs have established a scab rotation for each subgroup, calling on members to cross a UAW picket-line at a Michigan Parts Distribution Center run by Stellantis subsidiary Mopar:

Each BRG will pick a specific day of the week/weekend to volunteer as a team. Help continue to be the RESOURCE the BUSINESS can count on! Stellantis needs your help in running the Parts Distribution Centers (PDC) to ensure a steady supply of parts to our customers while negotiations continue. Working Parents Network has identified Friday, October 13 as WPN’s BRG Day at the PDCs!"

Now, these BRGs weren't invented by marginalized workers facing discrimination in the workplace. They come from literal union-busting playbooks produced by giant "union avoidance" firms that charge bosses millions for advice on skirting – or breaking – the law to keep workplace democracy at bay. All the biggest anti-union consultancies love BRGs, from Littler Mendelson to Jackson Lewis. IRI Strategies touts BRGs as a way to "union-proof" a business by absorbing workers' grievances in a decoy committee that will let them feel listened to.

BRGs, in other words, are the Crisis Pregnancy Centers of workplace discrimination. They're a Big Store Con, a company union dressed up as corporate social responsibility.

Now, let's not pretend that unions have a sterling record on race and gender issues. Giant labor organizations like the AFL had to be dragged into racial integration, and trade unions have sometimes been on the wrong side of anti-immigration panics:

https://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/1997/summer/american-labor-movement.html

But unions have also been the most reliable way for people of color and women to win better workplace treatment. The struggle for racial and gender justice was fought through labor organizing. Remember that MLK's "I've Been To the Mountaintop" speech was given in support of striking sanitation workers in Memphis:

https://www.afscme.org/about/history/mlk/mountaintop

Black organizers have always been militant labor organizers. Labor Day commemorates the victory of the long, hard-fought Pullman strike, where Black workers brought one of the most powerful companies in America to its knees:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pullman_Strike

And women have always fought for gender justice through the labor movement: the New York shirtwaist strike is the Ur-example, when women-led unions fought thugs and scabs on icy New York streets:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_shirtwaist_strike_of_1909

It's no surprise that labor activism, anti-racism and feminism go together. Since the earliest days, the labor justice struggle was also a social justice struggle. To learn more check out Kim Kelly's Fight Like Hell: The Untold History of American Labor:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

The most exploited, underpaid, and abused workers in America are also the most marginalized (duh).

From nurses:

https://www.reuters.com/business/healthcare-pharmaceuticals/kaiser-healthcare-union-says-week-long-strike-possible-early-next-month-2023-10-09/

To teachers:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-04-18/l-a-teachers-win-21-wage-increase-in-new-lausd-contract

To Amazon warehouse workers:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazon_Labor_Union

To publishing assistants:

https://apnews.com/article/harpercollins-union-strike-ends-0a94238718879066d9b21af6266be526

To baristas:

https://www.cnn.com/2023/09/29/business/starbucks-union-wages/index.html

To fast-food workers:

https://www.ufcw.org/about/

The vanguard of today's labor surge is Black, brown, female and queer. Without a union, workers who face discrimination are on their own, hoping that their bosses will voluntarily do something about it. Black workers in Tesla's rabidly anti-union shops face vicious racism, from slurs to threats to violence. Without a union, they have to rely on the shifting whims of an Apartheid emerald mine space-Karen for relief, or hope for help from the NLRB or a class-action lawyer:

https://apnews.com/article/tesla-racism-black-lawsuit-class-action-21c88bddf60eca702560be58429495de

The far right isn't wrong when they holler that woke capitalism is bullshit. As with so many of their mirror-world causes, they've got a point, but only a limited one. The problem with woke capitalism is that it's no substitute for a union. The problem with relying on Business Resource Groups to fight racism, sexism, homophobia and transphobia is that these struggles are all class struggles, and a BRG is never going to fight against the company that created it.

To understand how bankrupt woke capitalism is, conside this: Stellantis is calling on its "Working Parents Network" to scab this Friday. Stellantis is also being sanctioned by the Department Of Labor for discriminating against nursing mothers – the same "working parents" that the BRG is meant to protect:

https://www.clickondetroit.com/news/local/2023/02/08/investigation-finds-stellantis-violated-rights-of-nursing-mothers-at-sterling-heights-plant/

Woke capitalism is just another kind of "predatory inclusion," like Intuit's campaign defending its "Free File" tax-prep scam, where they're claiming that ending this ripoff is racist because it denies Black families the right to be tricked into paying for something they are entitled to get for free:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/27/predatory-inclusion/#equal-opportunity-scammers

When I learned about Intuit's wokewashing, I thought I'd found woke capitalism's rock bottom, but I was wrong. Stellantis's call for woke scabbing is a new low.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/11/equal-opportunity-class-war/#inclusive-scabbing

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[roobiedo]

Happy Solarpunk Aesthetic Week and Winter Solstice! ❄️

While we do celebrate here, we don't actually experience winter in my region, or any of the classic four seasons! The weather here is basically a coin toss between searing heat and torrential rain lol. So while I was musing over how to adapt a solarpunk aesthetic to a tropical lifestyle, I came up with this!

Lengthy explanations and chaotic ideas below:

Disclaimer: I am not a science-y person, so I'm not sure how any of these would technically work or what materials would go into making them. Hopefully one day someone could figure it out, but I'm just having fun sharing these ideas for now :)

-----

What works well both in harsh sunlight and heavy downpours, plus is already something that people here use everyday? Umbrellas! How cool would it be to have an umbrella that absorbs sunlight during the day, and turns it into a personal spotlight at night? Or perhaps it could absorb and store large amounts of rainwater, to be re-used later or released somewhere more useful?

My main inspiration for this is the bamboo. This plant already plays a huge role in our lives here -- culturally, economically, and from what I recently learned, ecologically too! Our region suffers from floods often, and bamboo can help to control the flow of water, for example through their roots providing a barrier against soil erosion, or their ability to store large amounts of water and release it gradually during drier seasons. (And that's just one of the many reasons why bamboos are awesome and solarpunky!) I thought it would be cool to have water stored in the 'bamboo nodes' of the umbrella shaft, which could then be detached and used individually, or as components in other tech!

I chose the Amazonian lily pad as the canopy design because 1) it looks big enough to cover a person, 2) it has a wide surface for solar panels to 'photosynthesize' energy, 3) its container-like shape looks as though it could hold rainwater like a funnel while it trickles into the shaft, and 4) it just looks really pretty! Realistically, this canopy might not be able to do everything at once, so I'm hoping for this tech to be modular and highly customizable -- as in, you could replace this 'lily pad' with something else that serves a different function! I did play around with some other designs, here they are hehe

Hibiscus: Our national flower! Have these bad boys growing in my yard so I thought why not. Not sure what functions it would have yet... perhaps the pistil could be a sensor for gathering weather data? Or maybe the anthers are little lights? Maybe it attracts BEES???

Mushroom: Not familiar with the fungi in my area yet so I went with the classic Amanita. Though now I'm kinda regretting because! Wouldn't it be so cool and lunarpunky to design it based on a bio-luminescent mushroom, so it would make sense for the umbrella to glow in the dark? AGH missed opportunities ;;

-----

Anyway while I was designing the umbrella I thought about giving the model a cool fit too, so tadaaa! A customizable pair of pants that can be worn as a shorts + half-skirt/sarong combo during hot weather, or extended to become a full pair of jeans during colder/rainy times! I used zippers as the connectors because they seem easy to sew on and I like the punky vibe it adds to the outfit. HOWEVER, I'm realising that might be inconvenient or way too time consuming for some people. Maybe buttons, magnets or hook-and-loop fasteners would be easier?

As for the shirt, idk that was just for fun. Maybe it changes colour/design based on the surrounding temperature?

-----

So YEAH that was my longer-than-expected idea dump for this week! Thank you for reading <3 If you have any thoughts or ways of expanding on these ideas please please please share them with me I'm just really excited to see what people think waaaaa!!! ok bye stay hydrated

[gremlinmodetweeker]

You're A What Now?

Just some silliness and then angst with Ghostbusters König because I can't commit to one genre.

TWs: Discussion of Nazi occupation of Austria, Nazis, Graphic Descriptions of Violence

Wordcount: 1.75 K

Story Below the Cut

Visuals [1] [2]

You're A What Now?

“DUCK!”

You dropped to the floor with a thud as the phantom screamed overhead.

“SHOOT”

ZAP!

You could see the electricity arcing overhead in great bright branches of lightening, scouring the wallpaper a charred black as Horangi wrangled the proton blaster under control.

“Nikto she’s coming your way!” Roze screamed over the sound of crackling lightening.

“On it,” a heavy Russian accent called back as a hulking machine of a man barrelled down the hallway, “south entrance clear!”

Horangi spit and hissed like a barn cat as he leaped over a broken chaise-lounge to dart after the phantasmal spectre, nearly tripping over you in the process. He looked down at you and barked, “On your feet, recruit!”

You scrambled to get your limbs under you as you watched the posse careening down the hall. You leaped to your feet and ran up behind them.

Okay, so, as of your first day on the Ghostbusters team, you can officially say that you believe in ghosts. Damn your lifelong skepticism, you weren’t going to fuck around and figure out just how bad a possession was gonna be on your first day.

You slammed into the wall before crashing into the kitchen where Roze, Nikto and Horangi were all running around like they’re heads were lopped off. You nearly missed it, but König was ducked in the corner with a screwdriver in his hand, cursing under his breath in his other tongue as though he could peel wallpaper with his venom.

“König where’s the trap at?” Horangi ducked under a piece of antique china being thrown his way.

“I-Verdammt-There’s a problem!” he called back.

“We don’t got time for problems, big guy,” Roze bellowed as she zapped the ghost with another blast.

“Then make time!” he spat before turning back to his tech.

“I thought Germans were great mechanics!” you yelled as you joined Roze with your own proton stream.

For just a brief moment, everyone in the room stalled. A plate crashed against the side of Horangi’s head, breaking the tension.

“Did you just call me German!?” König rose up to his feet as though he were a wraith himself.

“No no no not the time König!” Roze growled as she wrestled with the ghost.

“Now’s the perfect time!” König crossed his arms as he widened his stance, “I will not tolerate this clear display of intolerance and xenophobia from our newest recruit!”

Nikto took the opportunity to snatch the trap from König and got to working on it himself.

“I am not a German! I am not of such inferior breeding!” König crowed proudly as Horangi jumped over a flying chair.

“I thought you said the recruit was the xenophobe over here,” Horangi ducked behind an overturned table.

“Germany is a country of thralls and ignoramuses! The entire nation is devoted to blood and genocide!” König stamped his foot for emphasis, “I will not allow such a people to overrule my homeland any longer!”

“It was a brief occupation during Nazi Germany,” Nikto was barely legible over the sound of the spirit being slammed into a wall.

“And we will never forget!” König pumped a fist into the air defiantly.

“I’m sorry!” you wailed as you threw yourself behind the table with Horangi.

“Sorry is not enough! What, do you think I am some sort of Nazi!?” König spat.

“Your grandfather nearly was,” Horangi drawled blithely as he ducked behind the table to avoid a flying toaster.

You, Roze and Nikto all stopped what you were doing to look at König. Even the spirit stopped her struggling to watch the 6’10 scientist turn redder by the second.

“YOU SWORE TO NEVER SPEAK OF THAT.” 

And with that, König vaulted the table to lunge at Horangi.

“Get off me fatass!” Horangi growled as he hoofed König in the gut.

"Shut up you slimy little shit!"

"Tasty," Nikto drawled sarcastically.

Seeing an opportunity, the ghost quietly phased through the back wall of the kitchen while Nikto and Roze were distracted. You only noticed because you were watching Nikto drop the trap to try and haul König off Horangi, only to trip on the slime left behind and fall face forward onto the others in a cluster-fuck of legs and arms.

“Get off of me you commie bastard!” Hornagi howled as he thrashed at the bottom of the pile.

“Stop your squirming, I can’t get up!” Nikto snapped back as he tried to extract himself from the group.

Roze dropped her proton blaster back into its sheath before lumbering over to help Nikto get back to his feet while you stooped to extract Horangi from König’s grasp.

Once the group had all gotten to their feet, Roze sighed and stepped back before tapping the side of her headset, “Okay so, we lost track of the ghost.”

“What?” Hutch’s voice came through the static, “how? You were right there.”

“König had a shit-fit,” Roze grumbled as she stalked down the hall, “can you follow the readings through the house?”

“I’ll get right on it,” Hutch replied before the line cut.

You watched as Horangi wiped himself down as he shook the dust from his back. He looked at you, one of his spectacles cracked but somehow miraculously intact. He looked at König, who was doubled over wheezing while the adrenaline left his system and the pain from Horangi’s kick sunk in.

“You owe me a coffee,” Horangi joked, clapping your shoulder before following Roze and Nikto to the next room.

This, of course, left you alone with König.

You awkwardly nudged over to the door, worried that the man would clobber you next but he stopped you with one raised hand.

“Ah, recruit, I’m sorry you had to see that,” König huffed and puffed as he slowly drew himself to his full height again, “Gott in Himmel I’m getting too old for this.”

“I mean, you still seem pretty young,” you offered him politely.

“You’re too nice,” König hacked and heaved, “mein Gott, I thought he was a physicist, not a damn kickboxer!”

“Yeah, it looked like it hurt pretty bad,” you chuckled.

“I think I might need a minute,” König righted a fallen chair and plopped down onto it. Without a word, he pulled up a second and patted the seat, leaving it empty for you. You tentatively took the seat, a bit concerned the man beside you might keel over any minute.

“Sorry about getting so upset,” König sighed, “I just… Ever since coming to America, everyone here calls me German! Everyone! It’s not too hard to notice the difference, is it?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever met an Austrian before,” you told him.

“Really?” König sat up to look at you, “how long have you been in this city?”

“Long enough to know there’s not many Austrians here,” you laughed.

“Well, then consider me your first,” König determined, “but yes, um, I’m sorry about making such a fuss. I just… I cannot stand being called a German. Those damned Germans…” he shook his head, “never forget.”

“Never forget what?” you asked.

“The occupation,” König said, “Austria used to be a part of Germany, but it separated in 1866. Then Hitler comes around and he drums up all this Nazi support and tricks my people into falling for his lies. Then, he comes and steamrolls my country.”

“So there’s still a lotta tension, I’m guessing?” you tried to make a joke, but it fell flat on its face.

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” König said, “but I guess I don’t hate them that much. I just hate how everyone calls me German! I’m not a damn German, I’m an Austrian! My family’s been in Austria for generations! It’s like no American knows how to look on a damn map.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“And how would you feel being called a citizen of a country that once tried to crush you beneath its boot? My poor Opa… Well, you heard Horangi,” König spat.

“He was a Nazi?” you cringed despite yourself.

“Nearly a Nazi,” König swiftly corrected you, “he was a good soldier once, but he didn’t respect the Germans or what they stood for, so he broke his own leg to stop Hitler's men from sending him to war.”

“Wait, really?”

“Oh ja, but he was worried that might not be enough. So, he took on a new identity and moved across the country,” König explained, “he first tried to be an accountant, but he couldn’t do math so good so he went to go be a mechanic in my village. He used to be a panzermensch, so he was able to take some of those old skills he learned to get by.”

“Did anyone ever figure out who he was?” you asked curiously.

“Only one person,” König shrugged, “my Oma.”

You chuckled, “So he married her to keep her quiet?”

“Not then and there, but he did promise her that he would one day,” König snickered, “so they stayed low until Austria became independent again. Then my Opa took back his old name and married my Oma.”

“That’s really cute,” you smiled brightly.

“They were very cute,” König agreed, “but ja, if it weren’t for the Nazis, my Opa could have been a much richer man. The work in the village did not pay well, but he could have earned good money in the army. Mein Vater did not grow up with much, and he didn’t make much more for us when he married meine Mutter.”

“So Germany really fucked up a lot of your life,” you concluded.

“And then people go and call me German! It’s…” König sighed, “I do not like it very much.”

“Makes sense,” you nodded and leaned forward on your knees.

The silence between you stretched on forever, but a part of you never wanted it to end. There was something comfortable about being able to just enjoy the quiet with a man like König. Something about how he filled the space of the room left little space for conversation to try and shake the solid grounds you both stood on. It wasn’t like you often had a chance to talk, and when you did it normally was curt and strained in tone. This moment was a welcome break.

“Alright you two,” Hutch’s voice crackled through your headset, making you nearly jump a good five feet out of your seat, “the other guys need some help setting up that trap.”

“On it,” you replied as you dusted yourself off.

König stretched up beside you, hitting the ceiling with his hands before slumping back down.

“You ready?” you slipped the safety off your proton blaster.

König nodded and pulled his goggles back over his face.

“Alright,” you grinned, “let’s go bust some ghosts.”

AU Masterlist

[catboybiologist]

Okay maybe it's time to make an actual designated pinned post

Edit: hiya! A new pinned post will come, but quick note that I am starting my transition MtF now. This pinned post, and all the pictures in it, predate that, however. General guide is that I'm referring to pre transition me as a femboy, and will be referring to myself as a trans woman to moment I start HRT. But I'm leaving this old pinned post up for now.

Hi! I'm CatboyBiologist. I'm a grad student in Molecular Biology with a passion for the ocean, nature, Fromsoft games, national parks, and weird tech stuff. I tastefully hornypost about men, women, and all others (so be warned), post spicy hot memes (fuck you I'm the funniest mfer alive), type out long rambles about science and nature, and play Fromsoft games. PLEASE send me cute pictures of your pets.

Oh yeah, I'm also a cis man who does this sometimes:

I also make shitposts out of myself sometimes

I've also made a couple guides on how to replicate these kinds of looks.

General overview of femboy stuff:

How I create cleavage looks from a relatively flat chest:

If you want a somewhat more realistic idea of what my figure looks like:

The best way to specifically see those posts and filter out everything else is probably to use the femboy tag on my profile.

Pronouns? Uuuuuhhhhhhhhh, idk dude just use whatever. It's far more gratifying to me to throw a look out there and see what people wanna use for it than to declare my pronouns. If that doesn't make sense to you, they/them or he/him is cool.

Asks and DMs are always open for science talk, cute animal pictures, casual non creepy flirting, or whatever else... With the SOLE exception of these two questions that I get WAY too often and will give final answers to here:

"Are you a biologist who studies catboys or a biologist that just happens to be a Catboy?"

Both. Do humans not study human biology?

(also I'm actually studying bio irl)

"why is it not catboyologist, hmmm? I am very clever"

To give a serious answer to a joking question I get way too much: This online persona (or whatever you want to call it) is about balancing and integrating two large parts of my personality: my career in and passion for biology, and my queerness and gender nonconformity. I wanted both of those parts to be clear, in a cute and fun username. Basically, "catboyologist" only has the same effect as my actual username if you already know my actual username- you can't interpret the "biologist" part from "catboyologist".

Plus, "catboyologist" has too many consecutive wide vowels. CatboyBiologist breaks it up so it sounds punchier.

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tag, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

I'll also abuse other tags I use somewhat frequently, so hi y'all

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

5. Devoted to You

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader / The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen

We pull up to the Howard residence. Each step of the entrance was familiar under my feet. The once relaxing walls now filled shoulder to shoulder with pricks. It’s lively, with music playing and guests exchanging conversation. I didn’t seem to recognize many people majority of them being Vault Tech employees. Louis grabs a couple of drinks before dragging Heather and her boyfriend away to meet people.

“This ain’t much of a party. Looks like a big business deal.” Johnny notes. I shake my head in disappointment. “This party sucks. Just wait until you come to the after-parties of the tour. They’re so fun.” Johnny smirks as he swipes two glasses of whisky. I hate whisky. Cooper would’ve never gotten me a glass of whiskey. He knows my favorite wine and would have it on tap waiting for me.

We made acquaintance with a few people on the camera crew. One happened to be an assistant on the set of a music video I made a while back. “I LOVED that song!” She sings it drunkenly causing me to laugh. I took pictures with several of the Vault Tech employees mimicking my famous Nuka Cola pose. Little by little the night eased with the whiskey. I was relaxed. Given it had something to do with the amount of drugs and alcohol in my system but I’ll take happiness as it comes.

Now outside in the large gazebo in the garden we loudly socialize. Johnny sits smoking away, Heather and her boyfriend are all cuddling up talking to some other couple, Louis is in the middle sweet-talking some businessman for all he’s worth, and here I am swaying drunkenly to a song in my head in the middle of the freshly cut grass.

I spot a familiar figure exiting the house. The skinny guy walking down our way. “My piano man! Henry!” I laugh with open arms beckoning him into a hug. His face is bright red as he pulls away. “(Y/n), it… it’s so good to see you. I didn’t think you would remember me.”

“Friends, this is Henry MacLean. He can play the piano like no other. On the spot too!” My group welcomes him in nicely, all of us too buzzed to give a damn. Johnny stands with a smile, “there’s a piano inside.” I look at him and scoff, “Ah, don’t make me sing.”

Henry shrugs, certainly not going to turn down the opportunity to play for me. “I can play by ear,”

“You should've heard her earlier in the shower. She was singing this beautiful song. I had never heard it before.” Heather says as she leans up. “That’s because it’s unreleased. I’m still working on it. It’s a new project.” Heather frowned, “it was so beautiful but sounded so sad.” I shrug, “All my songs can't be happy.” Especially when all I can compose is depressing ballads. The only emotion I can feel when I try to write a song is want, and an ache burns in my chest. I want Cooper. I dream of a life where we were together. I love him, and I forever will. I am bound to him as roots are to a tree. Never seen, hidden beneath the beautiful growth of nature.

Johnny tosses his arm over my shoulders. “Come on everyone, Miss America here is going to sing us a song.”

~

I walk down the steps leading to the pool, “Excuse me. Your wine.” I place my cigarette in the glass before passing the waitress and sitting in front of my friend, “Well, shit, Seabass. You might be the only one of my invites who actually showed up.” He nods with a small smile. “Not all true, (y/n) seems to be having a swell time.” I look in the direction of his gesture. She’s swaying in the grass barefoot, without a care. A pure beauty in the mixture of facade company. I would give anything to go over to her, sweep her off her feet, and drag her to the bedroom. Peppering her skin with kisses as I make up for the time I have lost with her.

I suck in a breath, returning to the conversation at hand. “Not our usual scene, I’ll give you that.” He hums with a flat smile, “I think our Hollywood actor friends don’t want to be seen celebrating with the pitchman for the end of the world.” I shake my head, “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. You hear I lost a movie over these ads?” He looks at me in all seriousness, “No.” “Yeah, showed up to set, the actors wouldn’t come out of their trailers. Bonnie Lewis said it was on moral grounds.”

He scoffs, “Bonnie Lewis? She’s done more ads than a fucking billboard.”

At that point, I couldn’t help but hear the annoying voice of (y/n)‘s friend. “Come on everyone, Miss America here is going to sing us a song.” They trail past us, his arm thrown over her shoulder so casually. He smiles at me as they pass. She avoided all eye contact. I may not be able to touch her, but I can still allow myself the pleasure of watching her perform, especially since I am the host. It would be rude of me to not attend.

~

We stand in the large living room, Johnny clinking his glass catching everyone's attention. "If I could have everyone's attention!" All eyes on us, Johnny holds me out at arm's distance. "Who wants to hear my girl sing?" The applause begins, as it always does. Henry sits at the piano I lean over humming the intro to him. I turn back to the crowd, and I see him. Clad in a black shirt his hair brushed and jelled to perfection. I intake a brethe. The corner of his lip twitches, threatening a smile.

"Well, this is a very special night. I'm so thankful to Vault Tech for looking toward the future and keeping us American citizens safe. As a token of gratitude, I would like to perform a song that I've been working on. I hope you enjoy." I end the speech looking into Cooper's eyes, this song was for him after all. The piano starts slow, I take a deep breath in begin to sing.

"Guess mine is not the first heartbroken

My eyes are not the first to cry

I'm not the first to know

There's just no getting over you"

Cooper watches intensely as I sing. I look towards him touching my chest.

"I know I'm just a fool who's willing

To sit around and wait for you

But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do?

I'm hopelessly devoted to you"

I was devoted to him. Even if I were to date someone, hell even marry them. I wouldn't ever be able to let go of my feelings for him. I burned for him, I craved him, I couldn't live without him.

"But now there's nowhere to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

I'm out of my head

Hopelessly devoted to you"

He took a step forward, beckoning to my call, to my song, to my soul. I was indeed out of my head for him. I was trying to replace the missing touches and whispers with drugs and alcohol. He was my cure. Sadly, he was unreachable. So all I could do was fall deeper down into the hole, only dreaming of him.

"My head is sayin', "Fool, forget him"

My heart is sayin', "Don't let go

Hold on to the end", that's what I intend to do

I'm hopelessly devoted to you"

I would wait for him, in this world, or the next. Maybe we got the timing wrong, but one thing was true. Our souls were meant to love one another. Cooper stares at me as a starved man looks at his first meal. Moving closer to the stage he acts as a lion, priding through his field, coming to take what belongs to him.

"But now there's no way to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

I'm outta my head

Hopelessly devoted to you"

I lean down, reaching out, directing my attention to Cooper. Silently, begging him to grasp my hand, hold me tight, and tell me everything was okay. One more step would be all it takes for us to be in the vicinity. "Hopelessly devoted to you," Cooper nods, understanding my message. I would wait for him. Unhealthy, and toxic, but I would do it just for him.

Applause rings out loudly breaking my trance. I back away from Cooper, now feeling the tears in my eyes. I smile at everyone, waving as I exit the living room, dashing for the door. The overwhelming emotions threatened to tip over. I was spiraling, without him. My soul was starving without its flame.

I made it down the driveway until a hand caught my wrist. "Stop, honey. For me, please." I turn to see Cooper. His finger curled around my wrist softly. Tears flowing down my cheeks I attempted to tear my arm from his grasp. I was drowning in a sea of emotions. I didn’t know if I wanted to yell at him or throw myself into his arms. He keeps his grip firm, placing his other hand on my bicep. “(Y/n)”, he breathes out as if I’m a dream.

I feel myself filling with rage, tears still streaming down my face. “What? What the fuck could you possibly have to say to me?” He stays silent, eyes begging, but I continue to chastise him. “You used me. You disrespected me. You coaxed my feelings, hopes, and dreams out. You learned how I ticked, and you used me to your advantage. So, please tell me, Cooper,” his mouth slightly gaping, he draws in closer. “What the fuck do you have to say now?”

Cooper pushes me against the wall of the entrance gate, shielded by the trees. His hands attach to my waist with force. Our foreheads together, our lips begging to touch. He licks his lips, never looking away from my eyes. “I… I'm sorry. Honey, I’m so sorry.” He grapples onto my body, holding me close. Pressed firmly against him I shutter. I shake my head, my thoughts fighting against the moment. “Cooper, we, we can’t. Your wife-“

“I love you.”

Cooper stares at me with overflowing eyes. So much pent-up emotion and passion was threatening to release. He breathes me in, trailing his nose up my neck, “I love you, (y/n).” Our lips hover over each other. I hold every restraint I can. I sigh in disbelief, I want it to be true, I’ve dreamed of this. Hearing those words spoken from his mouth. “I love you.” He says it again, almost in realization. He stares into my soul, allowing his to reach in and cradle my lonely heart. He massages my waist, a choked breath leaving his body, “say something, darlin’.”

I bring my hands to his chest, clawing at his shirt. “Coop, you’re married.” He shakes his head, “I’ll leave.” I scoff, “you said that before.” He holds my cheek with one hand, his other wrapped securely around my waist. “I will, I promise. I… I can’t lose you. Fuck if I lose everything else, I won’t lose you.”

He leans in with force, sealing our lips together. this moment it feels like fate. His hands move from my waist to the sides of my face, cradling my cheeks with surprising gentleness. The kiss is passionate, tender, everything I wanted. Our hands roaming across each other, he pushes me deeper into the metal gate. I moan out, shaking for him.

“(Y/n)?” I jump back at Louis’ voice. He’s walking down the driveway looking left and right. I move to leave, but Cooper pulls me back. Hands still on my cheek he nuzzled our noses together. “(Y/n), please, give me time.”

I smile, pulling him down once more, “I would wait 200 hundred years to love you, Cooper Howard.” His charming smile lights up the night. I slip away from him and catch up with Louis as he slips into the car. “Where did you run off to?” I watch the tree line near the gate, Cooper stands, hand sun his pants pockets as he watches me. “Just to get some air.”

[flagellant]

Some of the asks you're receiving are giving me worrying flashbacks to being the only kid in my class arguing that dropping the atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki was wrong. I hope someone has studied the 'the more unconscionable an empire's actions the harder its people are taught to defend them' effect because it is a doozy. I am also concerned with how many people are not thinking twice before sending messages saying, essentially, 'You're exaggerating the cruelty of the US's occupation of another sovereign nation!' to....a member of an occupied sovereign Indigenous nation. I hope they're not weighing on you too much or dampening your enthusiasm for this project. I am really enjoying your research sauga, thank you for sharing it with us!

Thank you for this ask. I can't honestly pretend that all of this very much has been weighing on me. It's frustrating on a lot of levels but more than that it just kinda sucks and hurts. Especially as someone who is literally Indigenous and doesn't have dark skin? It's a constant battle of trying to not need to prove I'm Native enough versus having to fight for the recognition that I am my culture and I'm not just fucking racefaking, versus the fear that trying to be more visibly Native would just make me look like a racist caricature even though the whole reason I feel that impulse is because to non-Indigenous people, they see Native Americans as a single monolithic caricature and culture. I can't be native because I don't look like the noble savage in their heads. Don't pay attention to history, there clearly has never been a situation where perhaps Natives on the whole got more and more lighter skinned as generations went on. And there's definitely never been any reason for the American government to have extreme incentive in making sure Natives got bred out of the gene pool.

And none of this is actually directly relevant to the pressure, but it's informing how I'm approaching the research, as someone who can empathize with cultural erasure at the hands of fucking taibo, and I think that no matter what, conspiracy or not, cover-up or not, I think that it is incredibly important that more people in the world are aware that leading into the Cold War, Japan was forcibly coerced into giving total power over a significant cultural touchstone/ingredient/way of life to a single foreigner who had a complete lack of respect for what shoyu is, even going so far as to say "I want to change Japan's taste preferences". I cannot imagine a more direct and blunt parallel to settler-colonialism mindset. I truly cannot.

So to be consistently challenged--despite having either corrected or adapted mistakes/misinformation, or on some occasions actually proving that what I am claiming is not a mistake and it was like this--is kind of pinging a bunch of radars. Even beyond the pressure to perform for the sheer volume of interest--I'm used to that, I've not been exactly an unknown figure on this hellsite--there's a pressure to be perfect. To be immediate. I need to give the people the true answers and the end of the story three days ago; I need to give updates; I need to consider whether or not I want to be interviewed by Tech Crunch; I need to do everything except be allowed to let the natural timeline of research actually be its natural timeline.

I can't continue a large portion of research without having received responses back from government bureaus, from research archives, from college professors, from genetic biologisists, from horticulturists, from historians, from translators I'm paying with the money being sent about this project, from the genealogists and archivists and librarians who are also part of it...the list goes on. I can't make official entities of bureaucracy answer me quicker. It just doesn't work like that in real life--but for some unfathomable reason, Tumblr isn't treating what I'm doing like real life. They're treating it like an ARG.

So I suppose all this is to say I'm seriously having to consider going mostly offline for this holiday season. And I'm almost definitely going to try and avoid this project as much as I can during winter break; it's not like I'll be making quick progress anyway, since half of the academic sources I've contacted are already out for winter.

I hope that all of you understand that, for the most part, it's not you all as a group which is so upsetting and frustrating and draining and worrisome. For the most part it is individual responses from individual people, with a background radiation of eyes and pressure and selfishness on top of it, the natural state of existence for being in the spotlight at any given time. And I hope at the same time all of you understand how incredibly grateful, and touched, and honored, and excited I am that so many others are ALSO excited about this project. That all of you are just as eager to get to the bottom of whatever this ends up being as I am. The fact that people are willing to pay attention, even if only for a little while, to someone whose country is being occupied by foreign invaders investigating and finding the truth about what was happening during a different occupation with the same invaders. I think what is being done here is important work. And I'm glad that all of you do as well.

Without your generosity I would not have been able to even remotely gather the strength to push this for the long haul. And I do mean that literally. I started this project with less than $50USD in my bank account and today this is the first time I've ever had more than about $750 to my name. It's not much in the long run but I'm just so used to having nothing to spare that having any feels like the height of luxury. I bought myself a chai frappe today because I was waiting for a meeting to start. And I didn't hardly feel guilty. I can't tell all of you how emotional that made me, but if you've ever had rough times, I'm sure I don't need to.

Thank you all. I'm really excited to see where we go from here.

[dangerousartisanwerewolf]

To All Americans doom scrolling Tumblr right now:

First and foremost I am so sorry for all of you guys. You all did your part but hatred seems to have unfortunately won. I am also incredibly disheartened for all of you and for once in my life I honestly don't know what to say (which is odd for me lol).

Just know

That you did your part. You voted and did your part and that's all you can do.

It's not your fault. Period. Not to sound defeatist but one vote will not decide the fate of an entire election

Life will go on and we will keep on living. I know it doesn't seem like it right now but we will keep going and we will keep living our lives.

Things will get better, it maybe doesnt seem like it right now but things will ger better

I have sadly seen many people on here talk about killing themselves or pleading others to stay alive. As sad as that notion is, it is a very real concern for many now.

As many others have mentioned: PLEASE DON'T KILL YOURSELF OR RELAPSE IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM OVER THE ELECTION RESULTS!!!!!!!!! I know it may feel hopeless and like there is nothing else you can do but please don't. I mentioned many things you can do to distract yourself in a previous post if you want to look.

There are many $u1c1d3 hotlines and other mental health resources available you can access. Please do if you feel like you need to

List of hotlines/ help resources to call/talk to:

Sorry I can't link anything because I am not tech savy but hopefully a list is useful too. Got most of these off of instagram so maybe you'll see the posts circulating around. Keep in mind I am a minor who does not live in the U.S so if these are not the most helpful don't flame me.

LQBTQ Resources:

The 988 lifeline- 988lifeline.org (Call,text, or chat)

The Trevor project- thetrevorproject.org/get-help (24/7 crisis counselling)

SAGE x Hearme-sageusa.org/hearme (On demand mental wellness app)

LGBTQ center directory- lgbtqcenters.org/LGBTCENTERS (Centre directory, find one near you)

PFLAG- pflag.org/findachapter (Find a chapter near you)

QChat space-qchatspace.org (Online Lgbtq community for teens)

Suicide/crisis hotline

Dial 988 or visit 988lifeline.org

Warm lines that don't call the police:

Call blackline- 800-604-5841 (Centre's BIPOC, LGBTQ, Black femme lens)

Trans lifeline-877-585-8660 (U.S number) Canada has one of these too if you need it

Wildflower alliance peer support line- 888-407-4515 (Trained peer supporters

Strong hearts Native helpline- 844-762-8483

Thrive lifeline- 313622-8209 (Trans led and operated)

LGBTQ national help center- 888-843-4564

Hope that helps

Other easy ways to take care of your mental health:

Take a social media break/hiatus

Hang out with friends or family

Get out in nature (Go for a hike, bike ride ect)

distract yourself with comfort media

read

do something creative

practice a hobby

I already have a post with a pretty extensive list of stuff you can do to distract/cope if you need any ideas. I'm not going to copy it all out but its just a little down from this post in my account if you scroll.

Above all please stay safe:

Many have mentioned this but make sure you stay safe too, especially if you are in a red state where people may be looking for an opportunity. As fucked up as it feels to even type this out:

Scrub your socials of anything that may "Give you away" if you feel you need to

If you know someone who is queer, trans, poor, pregnant, an immigrant, needing an abortion, getting an abortion done, or anything that could make living dangerous to them- no you don't. try and keep loved ones safe if you can

Don't out yourself for being any of the above things if you can help it

Don't engage in politics talk with people if you can help it. If someone asks what party you supported don't tell them, they may just be looking for information they can use

One last reminder:

Please remember to:

Eat regular meals/remember to eat at all

Drink water

Take screen breaks (As it will hurt your eyes and give you a headache)

Go to sleep at a regular time

don't bed rot all day

don't doom scroll election content all day

turn off the news at some point, its not healthy to sit and watch the news all day

get out in nature/step outside and touch grass and get some fresh air if you can

talk to your loved ones and seek support if you need

get off social media for a bit (Even if you say all day social media doesnt make a difference to you I know it does)

make sure to take it easy today if you can, take care of your mental health and I hope that everything will be alright for you guys. Stay safe out there

[gollancz]

Why I'm Not Allowed On Twitter Unsupervised Any More: A Photo Essay

Key Notes:

Since this was posted I discovered that the books had briefly been available in the UK under the name Peter Beagle rather than Peter S. Beagle in the mid-90s, which is why they didn't show up on the British Library search

The article by Tor.com @torbooks: Peter S. Beagle Has Finally Regained the Rights to His Body of Work

If you want our gorgeous limited edition, I believe there are still a handful left (except for the US and Canada, sorry lads), and you can get it here. I'm not kidding when I say I got a little teary-eyed when these showed up.

[Image Description: A tweet thread from the Gollancz twitter dated 20th July 2022, which goes as follows -

Tweet 1: You may have seen that we're printing a Brand New Edition of The Last Unicorn. We're very excited! I was asked to tweet about it. I wasn't asked to do it quite like this, but I also wasn't asked NOT to do it like this, and I have the twitter login so whose fault is that? (Thread emoji, and gif from the film Scream reading 'The Call is coming from inside the house!')

Tweet 2: Imagine, if you will, you are a small child in the UK during the late 80s/early 90s. You might look a bit like this, or you might have had parents who didn't choose suffering (ask my mum about The Saga of the Hat) (an image of a small girl approximately 3 years old wearing a blue dress and a big white hat)

Tweet 3: Imagine you have a cool older cousin, one who, as you get age, introduces you to fantasy films like Ladyhawk and The Princess Bride and has a post the whole family knows as 'the vampire and the naked lady'. She's extremely responsible for the way you turn out as an adult.

Tweet 4: One year, for your birthday, this cousin buys you a video. It's the first video that is yours, not to share. It has a bright yellow cover. The butterfly scares you. But you watch it on a loop. You don't realise how special it is, but it's a seed that burrows into your brain. (An image of a VHS of The Last Unicorn)

Tweet 5: A decade or so later, in your teens, you rediscover it. None of your friends have heard of it, despite also being fantasy-inclined. That's odd, you think. Is this an outlandishly weird title? Then you get older and you realise: no, it isn't. (Principal Skinner meme reading 'Am I out of touch? No, it's the people who don't know about The Last Unicorn who are wrong')

Tweet 6: Time and tech march on, you get a DVD of the film. You realise it's got Christopher Lee in it! And Angela Lansbury! Your mum tries to get you to listen to songs by America other than the soundtrack, but the only one that really sticks is the other one they did about a horse. (Gif of Walter White from Breaking Bad singing along to Horse With No Name)

Tweet 7: You realise that the film is based on a book. Like The Princess Bride, which you've also read (after spending longer than you're proud of trying to find an unabridged edition). 'Neat,' you think, 'I'll have to read that!'

Tweet 8: And then you can't find it. Because, as mentioned previously, you're in the UK. The Last Unicorn was published for the first time in 1968. But, if you look at the British Library's National Bibliography (super neat resource btw), that was, uh, about it. (screenshot of the search results from the National Bibliography showing four editions of The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle, one from Gollancz in 2022, one from IDW in 2019, one from Tachyon Publications in 2018, and one from Bodley Head in 1968)

Tweet 9: The Tachyon edition is the unfinished first draft of the story. The IDW edition is a gorgeous graphic novel. But in terms of the novel? I don't know how many reprints it had (if anyone knows, I'd love to find out), but there's a good chance it went out of print in the 70s.

Tweet 10: The film, however, was released in 1982. Although it didn't make it to the UK until 1986. Conservative estimates could put that between 10 and 15 years since the book was last available in the UK. This gives you a generation in the UK who only know the story through the film! (A screenshot of the IMDB page showing the different release dates for The Last Unicorn around the world)

Tweet 11: The screenplay was written by Peter S. Beagle, and made by the legendary animation directors Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass. That's right, the guys behind Thundercats and 2 out of the 3 films based on The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

Tweet 12: The Book has been in print in the USA (and possibly all of North America) constantly since its publication, so it seems baffling that people in the UK haven't heard of it. As the internet became more prominent, however, it became easier to just... import a copy of the book.

Tweet 13: But! This also isn't quite as simple as you think. You see, until last year the rights to The Last Unicorn were tied up in legal limbo. And the US edition of the book contained changes that Peter wasn't happy with. (Link to the Tor.com article about the rights)

Tweet 14: Back to you, the 80s/90s kid, who is now an adult, happy that unicorns are A Thing again and you're living your best life. You're very easy to buy presents for. Your partner despairs of unicorns. You get a job working in books about magic and space. (unicorn emoji and photograph of a collection of unicorn memorabilia, including three different versions of The Last Unicorn)

Tweet 15: You mention that one day you would like to publish The Last Unicorn. That if you did, you would like to do a really beautiful edition of it. And you would like it to be purple. Because since the film is what you know, you associate it with purple.

Tweet 16: And, after taking a very circuitous route, here we are! This is the original text, that was first published in 1968. Reading it after you have only seen the film is the strangest experience - like being introduced to a very dear friend that you have never met before.

Tweet 17: Peter's screenplay kept the voice of the story so well, you can hear the characters when you read the book. But now there's so much more depth, softness and warmth to it. The butterfly doesn't seem so scary any more. And, it's beautiful. And it's purple. (Image of a hardback edition of The Last Unicorn, with a black base, purple background, and a linocut image of the unicorn in her wood. On the black cover underneath is a foiled unicorn with the moon and butterfly, the page edges are sprayed purple, and the endpapers are black with silver butterflies)

Tweet 18: Anyway, I've taken you on a three day trip that could have been done in a single tweet, but that's what happens when you let me drive. This edition is the limited exclusive one only available through the Gollancz Emporium and you can preorder here: (link to Gollancz Emporium)

Tweet 19: But there is also a standard edition available through all booksellers! You'll be getting the author's preferred text, with an introduction from Patrick Rothfuss. There's also a brand new audiobook and it will be available in eBook for the first time ever.

Tweet 20: It's like going from famine to feast, and I wasn't able to talk about this for months so now I am able to talk about it, I'm going to make the social media team cry. UNICORNS. SPECIAL EDITION. PURPLE. The End.

Tweet 21: Additional behind the scenes bonus detail - I did take this cover to the art meaning while wearing a unicorn onesie.

Tweet 22: The comms team wrestling me away from the twitter account: (gif of Ross from Friends shouting 'Stop typing! Stop typing!')

End ID]

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSOM SHADE

Chapter 05

Bitter Hearts and Burning Ashes

What do you want from me?

Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering?

What do you know?

- ( The song of the Chapter is ''Bury a friend" by Billie Eilish)

"You are going to work for me."

His cold eyes fix on her scowling ones. 

"He’s gotta be fucking kidding me," Khushi scoffs while her brain processes his words. It’s atrocious.

"Excuse me."

He shrugs as if it's already decided, as if it's inevitable.

Khushi lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Wow, didn’t realize I was in the market for a new boss. Thanks for the offer though, but my calendar is pretty full."

Unbothered, he just stares at her with his arm crossed across his chest. “If he led you to me, he can lead others to me as well. I don’t want my name dragged somewhere it shouldn’t be. I want you to find him for me, " he states as if he were talking to a child.

"Why me? Don't you have an entire IT Department at your disposal?"

“I don’t want Mr. Rathore finding out before I know exactly what I’m dealing with. An attack on me is an attack on him as well."

“And you can’t buy one competent IT employee to keep his mouth shut?”

“Why would I when I can get it done for free?”

“Didn’t know the great ASR was such a cheapo,” she snaps back immediately.

A ghost of a smirk threatens to curve in the corner of his lips, the tiniest of smirks, "I am actually doing you a favour, giving you a chance to find him yourself. "

"You know Mr.Raizada, your ego’s so massive, I’m surprised it doesn’t have its own zip code or a country, maybe even a national anthem." She looks at him so matter-of-factly that it almost feels like she’s stating the obvious.

Truth be told, his faint, teasing, barely-there smirk irritates the hell out of her. She wants to wipe that off his face. "And why would I need your 'favour' to find him?" she says, making air quotes around the word 'favour'. "I can find him myself."

"Hmm, Sure you can. I assume you have access to a highly protected network, plenty of cutting-edge encrypted gadgets and a satellite feed, right?" he says, raising a finger for each. His phone beeps in his pocket, momentarily diverting his attention.

What is it about Khushi that makes a guy two times hotter to her when he talks tech?

No, Khushi. Focus.

He is a trouble,

No matter how much tech he’s talking, No matter how cool his tech is.

Her internal monologue is interrupted by a small voice in the back.

"But Khushi, he said he can give you access to a satellite."

Every neuron of her brain, every single one of them, jumps at the idea and for a brief second, every one of them just... swoons. Her inner coder is tempted to reroute the current conversation to a different stream entirely. But no, that would be reckless.

"Engrave this in your mind, Khushi. I’m only saying it once. Mr.Raizada is like a Trojan horse, an unpredictable bug. If he crashes your Central Processing Unit, no amount of trouble-shooting would help you. Remember that," she scolds herself in silence.

Mr. Raizada, oblivious to her internal struggle, remains focused on his phone, the glow illuminating his features with an aura of confidence that only heightens her frustration. Shaking her head, she contemplates her next move for a couple of minutes, torn between her better judgment and the thrill of his cool tech gadgets.

“Miss Gupta, we need to wrap this up real quick. I have a meeting to catch," he states absentmindedly while typing on his phone.

"What if I say no?"

This time, her phone beeps with an incoming message. He glances at her, arching an eyebrow as if inviting her to check it. She unlocks the screen. It's a CCTV video of her, pinned against the wall by him in his room. Her voice says, coming from the screen, "The information the bastard of a hacker stole from me. It contains various pieces of evidence against the crimes Mr. Jha and the Serpents committed. I know he sold them to you. I want them back. I worked day and night to collect all of them." Her face is clear, as is her voice.

"Eww, do the girls you take to your room know about that?"

The moment that line leaves her mouth, regret floods in. Why, brain? Why is that the first thing you choose to process about this video? It is totally beyond her comprehension. Her brain does crazy shit like that sometimes.

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eyes for a split second. If she weren’t watching so intently, she might have missed it.

"You are the only lucky girl who'd the privilege. "

Huh.

She blinks.

"Oh, please." She doesn’t hold back the eye roll this time. A wave of heat rushes to her face. She bites her lips, feeling the heat spreading up her neck. She gives herself a mental shake. The last thing she wants to speculate is what Mr. Raizada does or doesn’t do in that room, preferably nothing involving the opposite sex........Shit.

No, nothing involving sex either.

Damn it.

"Khushi, enough with the mental gymnastics," she mutters to herself. And, then... "Wait a second, how did you get my number?"

He takes a deep breath, as if trying to gather some patience, then rubs the side of his temple with his thumb. Mr.Raizada has a scar under his right eyebrow, complete with stitch marks and all. It is old, almost easy to miss. It makes him seem darker, more dangerous. It adds just the right amount of menace to his otherwise polished, meticulously crafted exterior.

"You have no idea who you're talking to, do you?"

She stares at him, unblinking.

"It’s not exactly rocket science to find a phone number these days."

"How?"

He sighs, "Mr. Mathur found it out for me. And it doesn’t hurt that I own the network company you’re using."

Of course. There are hardly any big companies in this city where Rathore Industries didn’t have a stake. Fantastic.

Khushi can tell this is somehow important to Mr. Raizada. He wouldn’t be wasting so much energy on her if it weren’t. Maybe she can spin this to her advantage.

"What do I get in return? The most that video can do is get me killed. I don't fear death."

He lets out a short chuckle, "Liar."

She glares at him and in response, he just challenges her with that condescending look on his face.

"You find him, and I'll kill him for you."

She scoffs, "I can do it myself."

"Really? How many people have you

killed?"

The "bang" of the gunshot still echoes in her head, the memory vivid. Why is everything today dragging her back to that moment? She clenches her teeth nearly grinding them down. At this rate, she might not have any left by the end of this meeting. Arnav Singh Raizade sure knows how to pull her strings. Her next words come out laced with fury,

"I can fill today's quota with you."

"Sure, be my guest.

Exasperated by his antics, she spins on her heel and begins walking, desperate to leave the scene as quickly as possible. But once again, she finds herself flat against another surface, this time, his chest. His grip is firm, bending her arms behind her back as their chests are pressed tightly together.

"When I’m talking, don’t you dare turn your back on me," he growls as his hard eyes bore into hers.

"You can't make me work for you. I don't owe you shit, Mr. Raizada. Get your hands off me."

His grip tightens. "I don’t want to touch you any more than you want to be touched."

"Really?!" she rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her words. "The two times we’ve met, it’s clear how much you hate touching me. You are particularly allergic."

She wiggles. He doesn't flinch.

She squirms. He doesn't flinch.

She twists. He doesn't flinch.

Not even a damn inch.

After cursing him for a thousand deaths in her head, she lets out through her struggle, “Is pinning people to flat surfaces your favourite hobby? If it is, it’s despicable.”

He towers over her, not moving, not speaking, not even blinking. His jaw set like stone.

"You’re nothing like the women I enjoy pinning. I certainly don’t hate them."

"Well, newsflash, Sherlock, I hate you too," she fires back instantly.

"Hate is too weak a word to describe the disdain I have for you." he grits out, his lips curling into a low, feral snarl. "I despise you, "

The sheer venom in his tone makes her flinch. She blinks in disbelief, taken aback by the utter hatred in his eyes. She had expected some level of animosity, given their families' rivalry. But this is different. It feels personal.

Her glare sharpens. "Why? Just because our families are enemies? That doesn’t give you the right to misbehave with me like that.”

His arms tighten around her, drawing them even closer together. Her heart pounds as panic sets in. His eyes lock onto hers. It's dark, darker than ever, mixed with a wild unexplained hunger, that sends shivers down her spine. It’s the most untamed reaction she has ever seen on his face since their paths crossed.

He leans closer, lips almost at her ear. His voice is a rough whisper brushing against her skin. “I haven’t even begun to misbehave yet, Miss Gupta."

She gulps but refuses to let him intimidate her. After a few moments of heart-pounding silence and a stare-down battle, he lets her go and steps back, the cold mask slipping back into place as if it has never faltered, as if he hasn’t just pinned her against him, as if he isn’t the asshole he is. His eyes grew harder with each passing second as she watched him take a deep, steadying breath.

She stands on shaky legs, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes shoot daggers at him while her fists tighten. Her body trembles with barely suppressed rage. The impulse to find the magazine to load her gun and shoot him is so profound, it nearly brings her to her knees. Shaking her head, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin defiantly as their eyes lock.

"You’re a jerk. Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t give a damn why the hell he tried to frame you. Both of you can rot in hell for all I care."

This time, when she spins around toward the street, he doesn’t stop her. She slips into her car and shifts into reverse, about to pull out onto the road. She doesn't realize he has come out of the building as well. In the rearview mirror, she catches a glimpse of him, standing there with both hands tucked into his pants pockets. A picture of calm and collected. Unbothered and unfazed.

Through the glass,

His eyes lock onto hers.

His brown to her hazel.

Fire meets fire.

She sees something flicker in his dark, cold orbs while nothing crosses his face. It vanishes like a mirage in the desert, like it was never there.

She drives away. She doesn’t let herself focus on anything but the way her fingers grip the steering wheel. She doesn't let herself feel anything but the blood pounding in her ears.

And, most importantly, she doesn't let herself look back in the rearview mirror.

Not at all.

Not even a single time.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts and predictions for what comes next.

See you soon

Meanwhile, stay healthy, stay beautiful.

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @titaliya

[sundasystems]

4. The Cabin in the Grove

Eden Springs is aptly named.

Just outside of town is a small overlook where you can pull your car off the road and get a good look at the place from above. You can even almost see the Sunda campus poking up from behind the far hill. It's beautiful. I have no problem seeing why anyone would want to live here. More mysterious, however, is why a massive multi-national conglomerate like Sunda would choose a place like this for their headquarters. Ninety minutes from any airport. No major interstate access. It's not especially inaccessible, but it's not easy either.

As I drive through down I see smiling faces and hear light laughter coming out of the various storefronts. Some preliminary research showed that, while the majority of residents here work for Sunda, there is also a thriving small-business culture in the down town. That appears to be true. I pass a movie theatre and a general store. There's even a French bistro! Le Jus... something? I make a note to go back.

I find it oddly peaceful here. I could live here. I could move here and feel like I'd never have another care in the world. I wave at someone on the sidewalk who waves at me. I return their smiles. My left hand drops into my lap and I sigh softly.

I slip out of the city limits on the other side of the main drag and I see the first sign that reminds me why I'm really here.

Sunda Systems Eden Springs Campus 1.5 miles

I put both hands back on the steering wheel and rezip the fly of my jeans.

The drive here is deceptive. As soon as you leave town it feels like you've driven back into the wilderness. For a few moments, there's only mountains and trees. Then you round the corner and its like driving into the world of tomorrow. Several tall white buildings shoot up from the ground surrounded by an army of smaller buildings. There are parking lots everywhere, but most sit empty, and I remember seeing a sign in town for the Sunda Shuttle.

I park in a spot marked for visitors and take a deep breath. I remind myself that no one here knows who I am or what I want. I'm just a tech nerd here for a tour of the facility. This is one of the only places around where a fair number of cars are parked. So I won't be the only person who doesn't "belong" here. I open my car door and begin to walk toward the visitor entrance.

I'm greeted inside by warm smiles and "Welcome to Sunda Systems!" There's a sign that says the next tour of the campus leaves in 15 minutes. I'm left to stand in a group of other people who are waiting. They look largely like you'd expect them to look: mostly men, mostly in their mid to late 20's, mostly stereotypically nerdy. Not that I'm one to judge. I've never been one to be considered a heart-throb. That was always more Emily's job.

One of them approached me and says hello. We chatted briefly about what brought us here to take the tour and what we were hoping to see. He seemed harmless enough. Eventually, a guide emerged from behind a counter and greets us all. He was a skinny, nerdy looking guy. He introduced himself as Glen before handing out a campus map and beginning the tour.

We weren't allowed up in to the offices in either building that flanked the main entry foyer. Instead, the tour guide led us out the back into the campus commons. It really was a beautiful place.

We first entered through the Laser and Optics Research building. We were shown an admittedly very cool demonstration of a high power laser cutting straight through a steel beam. I tried to keep myself from being impressed and remind myself why I was here, but it was hard not to get sucked into the presentation and the results. Cutting edge (pun intended).

Then across the courtyard we entered the Crystallography lab. The entrance hall here was lined with minerals and gemstones on display. We didn't get to see much here. The guide led us into a dark room with a single display case. Inside was the largest sapphire I've ever seen. The lights in the room seem to dance on its surface and somehow inside it's depths. And what depths it has! Deep blue and flecks of violet that seem to shimmer and move as it rotates on its turntable so slowly... and lazily...

I don't know why I didn't think to try to take a photo of it. I guess I was just very distracted.

Walking out into the sun after being in that dark room was disorienting. My head felt a little strange for a few minutes afterward, but the tour continued and I got over it. As we entered the audio labs I was feeling quite good again. Almost eager to continue. Music thrummed constantly here. The guide told us it was in an attempt to drown out the sound-based experimentations going on inside the facility. They tried their best to soundproof the rooms, but some sound still bled out into the main building. We should do our best to ignore it.

For some reason, the whole group managed to say "Yes, Glen" at the same time, which made us all chuckle for a few minutes. This was a good group.

Finally, we arrived at the section of the tour I'd been waiting for. The living quarters. Unfortunately, Glen didn't take us very close. He pointed out the Education Center and the Hall of Worship, but said they were closed to visitors. Further back was the cabins, where some staff had decided to live "on-site." Staff like John Delphine, former COO of Lotus Clinical Research.

The tour group began to head back toward the main entrance. Part of me wanted to follow. To be a part of Glen's group and be led around. But Emily was counting on me. So with great effort, I pulled myself out of the group and stepped behind a small statue as they rounded a corner. Just like that, I was free.

I knew I'd have to be quick. I didn't have an employee ID that I'd seen on people around so I may not have much time to explore away from the group. That being said, I couldn't sneak in broad daylight. So I put on my best "I belong here" face and strolled back toward the living area.

In the courtyard there was a bulletin board of notices for the residents. Three in particular caught my attention.

One:

Renew your Vows and sing Vivian's Gospel House of Worship each Sunday at sundown

Two:

Seeking resident beta-testers for the new Mirrorball Program. Must not have been exposed to any previous optical inductions. Inquire at Office LOR 4-19.

Three:

New Radio Sunda available through Re:Mx. Enter code S2R0-F885-GG78 into the code stream to gain access.

This last one had tabs at the bottom with the access code on them like old flyers you'd find in the city. I tore one off and pocketed it to test out later.

I moved deeper into the campus toward the trees and the cabins. There were many more cars in the lots back here. Presumably the vehicles of the residents that don't have to drive from town.

A man looking like a security guard was approaching from the cabins. I decided to cut and run before I could get caught. I stashed my camera as I walked back toward the research area of the campus and managed to slide back into the tour group as they came back out of radio building.

Many of them had happy - if slightly vapid - smiles on their faces as they listened to Glen speaking. It didn't seem like any of them had noticed I had snuck away. It wasn't really clear if they'd noticed anything except Glen that whole time. Though, I could hardly blame them. He was pretty cute. A flush ran through me, and I cleared my throat softly as we finished the tour.

But before I could leave, Glen approached me. I thought he was going to scold me for sneaking off, but I was very wrong. He asked if I was in town for long and if I'd like to get dinner with him that evening. I think my entire body turned red. It was an ethical violation to go on a date with the subject of an investigation. But it would be a good way to get some inside information.

And he was very, very attractive.

[moodymisty]

Alright I gotta represent for us in the Rogal Dorn Simp Nation, Misty! This idea fell directly on my head from my old history nerd childhood, we’ve got stories of queens holding down the fort and being badass while the king is away so why not let the lady of the House of Dorn and the Imperial Fists kick some ass??? Dorn’s off doing y’know crusade shit etc etc and gets a frantic vox hail from Inwit (or whatever fortress world she was on) that they’re under attack. Luckily he’s done with whatever his assignment was or has somebody he can trust and leave it to so he can flip Phalanx in reverse and hop back to make sure nothing goes wrong. Only to find his beloved commanding the standing force of guardsmen and marines, not just holding it down but WINNING. On the outside he’s his usual stoic self like “psh yes of course I wasn’t worried, I never worry, this is something I expect her to be able to handle. I am proud tho” but internally he’s like “oh no this is hot” XD. Indomitable warrior queen decked out in armor he probably commissioned for her (always gotta be prepared) making battle plans and laying the verbal smack down on any captains or commissars who are questioning the competency of somebody ROGAL GODDAMN DORN chose to be with. Yeah I think that’d do a whole lot for him 😂

Having soft moments of reflection on his humanity matched against his beloved’s is delicious of course but so is meeting him where HE’S at, seeing how loving him and learning about him would change somebody. And getting to commit some grand old grimdark 40k VIOLENCE is always fun lol

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: We are on the front lines for Wall Husband I will go down with this ship. Boring this bland that fuck everyone else we're right I'm stacking bricks around them

Summary: Stuck in a violent snowstorm on an Imperial Fist controlled planet being sieged, you take command for the first time while waiting for Dorn.

Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dorn is your future husband and Alexis Polux is your battle husband it's like a work husband but much more violent, Mentions of battle and death, Typical 40kness, I think I blacked out while writing this I'm sorry

Word Count: 2566

You had known from the very beginning of your courtship that Dorn had wished for you to be a link in his chain of command.

What you hadn't expected, was for your first time in leadership to be completely alone, surrounded by no less than fifty Astartes waiting for orders, and five hundred or more Guardsmen half frozen due to the horrid weather; With a multitude of tech priests working on the various machinery and equipment.

This sun up makes it a week since the siege had began, the distant sounds of bolter fire constant. Sometimes the ground shakes from explosions, pulling dust off the cracks in the brick walls.

Walking down the east hall, you step into the large room that has been made into a sort of 'central command' to coordinate the current forces, stuffed tight with a massive holotable and various tech priests scattered around it. Some are working on fixing any malfunctioning machinery, such as the vox equipment that has had trouble maintaining a signal even on-planet through the storm.

You look around to see if anything drastic has changed in your absence. In the moment, you notice a familiar face; A commissar from the beginning of this week. He has the most command over the Guardsmen under you, having been their only superior before the invasion. Any captains or other commissars had been made to report to him, up until now. His closest in rank subordinate had been killed in an explosion on the first day, and in a morose thought, you wonder if they had been any more palatable than he is.

"Any progress hailing the Phalanx?"

He gives you a curt shake of his head, looking over the shoulder of the tech priest operating the vox equipment. Another harsh whip of wind batters against the walls, howling and shaking the glass windows. It rattles them almost just as bad as the distant explosions do.

"Nothing more than a few seconds at a time. But it should be enough of a message for them to understand the planet is under siege." The Commissar speaks short and stiff, face frozen in a neutral, stoic gaze underneath his uniform and few day old facial scruff. You cross your arms.

He's on his best behavior now, considering his disrespect shortly after you'd taken command had nearly gotten his head rent from his shoulders. He hadn't realized he was speaking to the Lady of the Imperial Fists, but the Astartes that had been in your company to deliver the news of your ascension in duty hadn't given him the leeway he might've thought he deserved. He acquiesced command of his guardsmen to you quite quickly, after that. There has been nary a squeal from him since, nor any of his fellow commissars or guard captains.

"Good. Then we will hopefully have aid soon. For now we need to push them back from the storage buildings before my men run out of bolter ammo."

Not that they can't work with just their chainswords, but long range options remain vital considering the hostile terrain you're all working with.

You hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

Alexis Polux, a veritable giant of a man, is nearly unable to get through even a doorway meant for fellow Astartes; Though not of his size. His armor is packed with snow at the seams, pauldrons slick with snow melted into a sheet of ice. His thin, blonde hair is quickly becoming wet at the tips, from where snowflakes are melting in the slight heat of the room. Anywhere he walks, he leaves chunks of melting sleet right behind. It has to be almost packed a meter high at this point out there, judging where the worst of it ends on his leg armor.

"Welcome back, Captain Polux." You smile in spite of the situation. It's something that Dorn had said he found- in his own words- 'curious' about you.

He holds his helm in his hands, walking closer to you. He brushes past the Commissar with not even the slightest tilt of acknowledgement. Unsurprising. He'd been there when the man had questioned your acting in Dorn's proxy. Polux is a man of a surprisingly amount of humility and softspokenness, but he is rarely forgiving.

"The storm is getting worse."

You hear another bout of wind howl through the brick and stone, as it continues to dump more snow onto the ground. While the Astartes can traverse it without much issue, it's becoming one for the Guardsmen. They've slowed their advance significantly as the snow reaches their knees.

"Even if we do get aid, they're going to be hard pressed to get anything more than small gunship planet-side; Though it goes both ways. We're all stuck out here in this mess." You open your mouth to continue, but Polux cuts you off.

"They are not built for the cold like we are."

You look up to the massive marine who's been serving as your second in command. Perhaps it wasn't an officially given title, but he's taken it well, and you could think of no better man for it. Especially given that the other Astartes respect him- which makes your orders have less of a weight to them, given they still have a degree of unfamiliarity with you. Your hands rest on the rim of the holotable.

"Finished my sentence for me." He hums as an odd sort of apology, the humor of your response going right over his head. When you let out a soft chuff of a laugh a few guardsmen curiously look at you for a moment.

"It was a compliment, Polux." He stares, eyes flicking across your face as he loudly thinks.

He really is a Son of Dorn.

You resist the urge to smile again, and look down at the holotable. It's been quite the week, but what was once another language has now become nothing but second nature. Putting theory to practice has proved quicker and less frightening that you'd thought, a week ago.

Though you still hope Dorn returns to you soon, turning away from the holotable to receive an update from a guardsmen holding a dataslate.

If anyone had ever asked, Rogal Dorn has remained no different than the stalwart nature he's always had. Though his captains and commanders can hear tenseness in his voice. No matter how phenomally well the Primarch can mask it.

It's been there since they'd first gotten the first of multiple emergency vox hails, only a few seconds long with a barely stable connection. But the few words that had gotten through had made it obvious that the planet was being sieged.

One of their bases was being sieged, a spit in the face of the Imperial Fists.

Even worse, Dorn has no idea as to your welfare.

He'd thought you safe there, the safest you could be other than with him or on Inwit, and now you stand on a world being laid waste with no way to contact anyone off world. He wonders deep in a part of his mind if it was an error on his part.

They're less than a day out now, watching the warp tear by. Dorn stands at the ship's bridge- unmovable. He'll see the planet any moment now when they leave Warp travel, and then can he prepare for what all is ahead of him.

He has the utmost faith in his men and you. However that doesn't mean that a small, human part of him doesn't worry at the idea of you being stuck mid-siege in an unknown location.

He taught you well. He taught you well. A mantra in his head no one else can hear. It is up to yourself to survive without him.

The siege isn't visible from orbit when they arrive, given the massive storm blocking large swaths of the land in a white blanket. It will making landing difficult, but the storm is clearing- at least according to the tech priest currently in charge. Not long after orders are given to begin battering the enemy's battleships as they strike back, shields taking a sizable hit. Nothing the Eternal Crusader and it's crew cannot handle.

But it doesn't feel as if the ice storm is clearing with the way the gunships struggle to remain stable, even with the most competent of pilot. Though they still manage to land on solid footing in one piece, the wind whipping their armor like a flog. Sheets of snow blow across snow already heavily packed onto the ground, covering up the large footprints of Astartes that had been here moments before them. The stone of the steps is barely visible through it all.

Dorn strides forward, the snow sticking to his boots as he trudges through it. He can hear bolter fire in the distance, as well as what seems like the highpowered cannon of multiple Baneblades. A small team of five Astartes follow behind him, two on each side and one directly behind. They have their bolters raised, ever vigilant even well in the safely of their own area of control. Wind rips through his cropped hair and howls in his ears, and for a split second, he perhaps regrets not wearing his helm. Even for a man of Inwit, this cold stings; He can hear the ice and snow crunching in the seams of his armor.

Stepping inside the cathedral, the first thing he notes is the myriad of supplies stacked inside in the aisles, safe from the elements. Guardsmen are looking after them, divvying them out amongst themselves, or delivering them to the Astartes in need of them. Of which there are a few- Imperial Fist guards from before the siege began. Most seem in decent condition; Dorn notes a lack of injuries amongst the Guardsmen and Astartes alike, and how there seems to be an established system amongst them.

He keeps walking through the nave, passing Guardsmen and Astartes who all give him a drop of the head when he passes.

"Primarch Dorn!"

An Imperial Fist Lieutenant calls to him, helmet in his hand. He has blood on his lips from where his skin has split, the cold having whipped his skin dry. Going down the few steps of the ambulatory, he gives a curt nod.

"Lady Dorn and Captain Polux are in the east hall. Central command has been established there."

He affirms to the warrior and turns, walking through the transept and down the hall. The one who'd spoken to him seems to have other duties, and stays behind on the ambulatory.

He can hear chatter in the large, arched hall- it increases until he reaches the door it's bleeding from, and he opens it and ducks to come through. It's just too short for him, but the ceiling inside can thankfully handle someone of his height. It's a thought that is always in the back of his mind.

When Dorn enters the room, the first thing his eyes focus on is you; Leaning over a massive holotable with Captain Alexis Polux standing firmly at your side. He stands like an unmoving guardian, a hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He's the closest to you out of anyone in the room- either out of his own will, or the gargantuan Astartes has incidentally created a personal area of clearance around you both with his presence alone.

"Dorn!"

You say, an audible pep in your voice. The Primarch walks closer and examines the scene in front of him. You appear uninjured, apart from your skin being slightly pallid from the cold.

The Primarch notices how everyone operates around you with a level of assiduity and efficiency, having been giving clear cut duties. There is no arguing, no fighting, everyone both in this room and all around the cathedral operate smoothly. You have a perimeter established, and you’ve been careful to push the advance but not stretch yourself too thin.

You've done well. That much is clear. A part of him wonders if you'd be able to clean this all up on your own, had he decided to simply give you the reinforcements and leave.

Dorn watches as you momentarily turn away from him to speak to an approaching commissar, and he finds himself listening to your confident and assured tone of voice. A thought crosses his mind.

You look beautiful.

All of your inquiries, curious questions and shaking confidence in your ability to lead have all mixed together, and while you might have made different choices than him, he cannot deny your effectiveness.

Dorn decides to speak before he distracts himself within his own mind further. A hold of your hand or to take a kiss of yours are things reserved for private, not here. As much as he might wish to.

"You appear to have done well for yourselves."

You look up at him and give a wry smile, while he glances at the holotable in-between you both.

"It could be worse. I have a squad of Astartes stuck behind enemy lines, but we've pushed the enemy back from the supply warehouses."

This planet has large city buildings that the wind rips around through, unlike the shorter ones of Inwit. The Astartes are fine in their sealed suits and higher body temperature, but the Guardsmen are all struggling. You more than likely are as well, despite holding strong. He can see the chill on your skin, the cracked skin of your lips.

Dorn's reinforcements will provide valuable support to yours, and with their might together, this planet with be rid of the siege.

You turn to order that the men currently in the battlefield get notice that Primarch Dorn has arrived, and that reinforcements are coming. Besides the soon coming tactical advantage, it will provide a well needed boost to moral. With the intense weather, it has surely been lowering. Though your smile and optimistic look in your eyes prove to be a valuable motivator.

No matter how good the orders, often times the way they're said and the person giving them are what matter most.

The Primarch looks to Captain Polux, and gives him a curt nod. The Astartes politely returns a dip of his head in thanks to the silent compliment of his duty. Dorn then looks back to you.

"You and any men injured will return to the Eternal Crusader." You let out a laugh and shake your head. He can hear the rattle of the bolter on your hip.

"Well now that I've started this, I'm kind of keen on seeing it finished before I leave."

Dorn's eyebrows raise ever so slightly, amused by you. He taught you well, he repeats again. Your command over a such a less than optimal situation has proven as such.

The Lady of the Imperial Fists has proven herself not only to be smart, beautiful, and full of humility, but to be stalwart and confident as well.

"Very well."

He'll stay at your side, and judging by his solid stance, Polux will as well.

Dorn very rarely has doubts, but your confidence and ability to adapt have solidified his thoughts that he had made the right choice in you. His 'sons' taking well to your command makes it far easier.

They will have to when you officially become his wife, after all. You have already accepted the title of Lady Dorn, he has no reason to not seal your bond. There hasn't been much else in his life he has been more sure of.

Ignoring any of his more personal desires in the back of his mind, Primarch Rogal Dorn abides by your request, eyes focused more on your lips as you smile at him.