#only occasionally getting access to a computer and owning one for the first time in my teens (the same applies to a smartphone)

[ineffabeatlemindpalace]

born in the 90s forever

[untoldstar]

male!yandere hacker x fem! reader

warnings: reader being watched from their webcam without their knowledge, nsfw content, obsessive behavior and infatuation, stalking, readers privacy being breached.

hey! I'm sure someone will find this hot but this is your reminder to stay safe and be careful. It's super easy for someone to watch you at any time. This might be a silly lil post but this is a real thing that happens so stay safe loves and cover your webcams.

yandere hacker! Who simply stumbled upon your webcam one day having done this a million times before, honestly how do people still allow themselves to be so vulnerable like this? it's laughable.

He doesn't care for their files or their credit card information and he isn't selling the footage on the dark web or anything he's just..bored to put it plainly.

yandere hacker! Who watches you do mundane ordinary things, he sits there for hours watching you listen to music, watching your favorite series, type out your essay that's due for next week, he finds himself focusing on how you bite your lips when you're concentrating on the events unfolding on your screen or how you furrow your eyebrows and don't take your eyes off your screen for a second as the words flow out of you when your typing out you essays.

He hacks into your files to read what you write, sometimes sneaking in a small edit of his own on your work hoping you don't notice.

He accesses your monitor so he can feel like he's a part of your routine, bringing his own snacks as he watches your movies with you, reading your texts with your friends, listening to your playlist with you. He only took notice of his growing obsession for you when he realized he hadn't hacked into a single webcam since seeing you. He felt it was really getting bad when he'd find himself spending hours on end at his desk simply staring at you until his eyes became dry and blood shot.

When you're not doing anything particular on your computer he still keeps your webcam on his screen monitor as he goes about his day so that whenever you use your computer he knows immediately.

yandere hacker! Who never used his skills for perverted reasons, he didn't watch webcams to catch a girl changing or find some dude jacking off to porn. That didn't interest him in the least. But when he glanced at his monitor and caught a glimpse of you lifting your shirt over your head, your back facing him, he just couldn't look away, his eyes were glued to his screen. A small tiny voice in his head prayed that you'd turn around even if just for a moment.

He internally thanked god when a ding sounded from your computer, the notification showing up on the corner of his screen as well and for once he found your friend actually useful.

You turn around and walk to your screen bending down and squinting your eyes slightly to read the message and he feels his dick hardening, a visible tent forming in his pants.

It starts to become a habit. A routine even. Watching you get out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, skin glistening and flushed from the hot water. You remove the towel from around your body and chuck it at a nearby chair, starting with your routine by applying your body lotion and oil and that's when he starts getting comfortable in his desk chair and slowly unzips his pants. His favorite part is just about to start.

Wet lewd sounds and heavy breathing fill both of your rooms, he was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that you occasionally like to take care of yourself after having a shower and soon enough he joined in too.

He pants as his hands move quicker around his cock matching the pace of your fingers moving in and out of you, biting back his moans so he can hear yours clearly. With a shaky hand, he reaches over to his mouse and raises the volume. Your moans and whimpers echo loudly from his monitor.

He finds himself liking being a part of your activity here too, he edges himself waiting until you're close so you can both come together. After the first few times, he started recognizing your body's signals, your whimpers become a pitch higher, your pace becomes more sloppy and desperate than steady, too focused on chasing your high, and your hips start meeting your fingers halfway.

His head falls back and he lets out a loud moan as you both come at the same time. Both your hands slow down and your chests rise and fall as you catch your breaths and he feels a warm twisted feeling bloom inside his chest, the way you're both in sync makes him feel like he's there with you, touching you with his fingers inside you instead of your own.

The fog inside his brain clears up and he looks down at his lap to his cum leaking and covering his hand. He feels perverted like he reached the highest level of intrusion. These feelings always swirl around his chest at moments like this but they always go away as quickly as they come because he knows he can't stop.

You're just too sweet, and you seem to have fallen right into his hands and he's not letting you go.

[theresattrpgforthat]

How do you know so many games to recommend? I feel like I’m always scrambling to find games on a certain topic, and itchio’s search function is tricky at best.

Hello friend! I have a few methods, and I think they all tie back to my pretty big obsession with games. Let's take a trip through my indie RPG journey, because this is kind of the result of approximately 5 years of interest.

DriveThru RPG

When I first got into TTRPGs, I didn't have a lot of money (let's be real, even right now I don't really have that much spending money) but I did have a little more time, so I combed the net for free tabletop games. I got acquainted with DriveThruRPG first, and I took everything I could that was free and put it into little folders on my computer. Since then I've realized that I can access my folders through the DriveThru App, so there's much less on my computer and more just waiting to be downloaded and perused.

I also get notifications from DriveThru about deals of the day, and occasionally I just browse the storefront to see if anything catches my eye. DriveThru's navigation system is not great either, but one of my friends does some of his own sifting and has directed me to some real gems. I learned about Pandora London, Swords of the Serpentine, and Savage Worlds this way.

Podcasts

I love TTRPG podcasts but I didn't want to listen to D&D podcasts. I found Fandible first, when I was looking for a play through of Changeling: The Lost. I walk to work and I also like to listen to podcasts when I clean my house, so I usually get through one episode a day. I usually look for podcasts that play in multiple systems, although you'll see a number of podcasts here that focus on just one non-D&D system. Here's a few that I recommend:

Fandible: Just a group of friends who love playing games together. All of them are GMs, and they all GM different games. Jesus is the most adventurous, and is constantly bringing new games to the table. I found Slugblaster, Numenera, and Unhallowed Metropolis through them!

Character Creation Cast: I started listening to CCC last year, thanks to a recommendation from a friend, but I fell in love quick. The hosts focus only on the character creation aspect of games, and they also spend time talking to other gamers about the parts of play that each guest feels is important. I found out about Descent into Midnight, Nova, and Blue Planet this way.

The Gauntlet Podcast: This Podcast no longer releases episodes but I learned so much about safe game play through this podcast. Once a month the hosts would sit down with guests and highlight a game of the month for each of them. Often they would talk about games that they adored even before those games made it to publication. I found out about Brinkwood, Apocalypse Keys, and Poutine through this podcast. I miss it so very much.

I would also recommend My First Dungeon, Party of One Podcast, The Eternity Archives, One Shot, and +1 Forward for exposure to many indie games.

Itch.io

I didn't interact much with Itch.io at first - I thought it was mostly for indie video games and generators - but when the Bundle for Racial Justice and Equality came out I went feral. I sorted through each and every page of games in that bundle and put all of the TTRPGs into folders - which I am still refining to this day. As you can see, I get very excited whenever a big bundle comes out, as it gives me a lot of exposure to games that people have made.

I also sort through the most recent additions on Itch every one or two days. I usually categorize my folders via genre and rules system, but I'm currently in the process of curating folders for duet and epistolary games. If I think a tag will help me, I usually use https://itch.io/physical-games/tag-[tag] and then insert what I'm looking for in the [tag]. It doesn't get everything but it gets me started.

Often if a game was entered in a Game Jam, there's a tab that you can click to see other entries in that same Jam. So occasionally I'll browse Game Jams for other games that I might find interesting. And for games that I know that I'm personally passionate about, I have a Games that Intrigue Me folder to flip through for when I'm choosing which game to play, or if I want to spotlight a game that I've been itching to put on a rec post.

Other Avenues

I am actually subscribed to you on Youtube, along with a number of other great reviewers!

The Gaming Table is a wonderful Aussie creator who reviews copies of indie ttrpgs. She started a year ago and already has a truly delightful backlog. I recently listened to her review of Bluebeard's Bride and it was wonderful!

I found 11dragonkid when I was looking for Lancer content and was pleasantly surprised to find other ttrpg reviews for games such as ARC and Gubat Banwa.

I watch A.A. Voigt's and Talen Lee's (@talenlee) mini-essays about games and the pieces of those games that speak to them not just to learn about new games but also to learn about what makes those games matter. I found the videos on Capitalites and Girl By Moonlight very informative!

I also watch Dave Thaumvore for reviews for big-print games (Vaesen, Symbaroum), and Questing Beast for updates on what's happening in the OSR scene (Vaults of Vaarn, Mothership).

I'm also subscribed to a number of newsletters and RSS feeds! Bundle of Holding has a blog announcing new bundles, the Indie RPG Newsletter has some great indie rpg coverage in their monthly updates and associated links, and I have an RSS feed on Feedly for game musings on whatever blogs I can find.

In Conclusion...

Much of my TTRPG knowledge comes from constant osmosis. I talk to friends about games, spend a lot of time on Itch.io, and I'm also finding new games here on Tumblr. I have an RPG server where me and a bunch of my friends play pretty regularly, and I'm constantly introducing them to new games. We finished up our Monster Squad Arc a month or two ago, and we're currently getting geared up for a Galaxy Games arc - this time with games that other players are bringing to the table!

I started sorting games for my own enjoyment - I love having all of my little boxes that I can go back to when I am hankering for my own game. I started this blog because I found there were too many games that I was excited about and I was never going to get through all of them just gaming with my friends.

[celabi]

Yandere Creep! Scara who sets up cameras in your bedroom…

While checking the live footage one night, he finally gets to see you masturbating, so ofc like the gross perv he is, he excitingly takes this chance to jerk off….but something catches him off guard and has him pause his movement? Did you say something? He’ll need to replay that..

Did you just moan his name?

This took way longer then it should have, even though it’s short 💀

God knows how he snuck in to place them, or how small they’d have to be so you don’t notice,— probably climbed into your window when he knew you would be out for a decent amount of time, and hid very small cameras behind your shelves and ornaments— as well as making sure he got just the absolute perfect placement where he had access to view every single angle of you.

The first few nights that he has the live footage of your room pulled up on his computer are slow— you’re just doing ordinary stuff like studying at your desk for hours, or leaning up against your bed frame while you scroll through your phone. Repetitive activity that anyone would yawn at, but not him. Not Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who stares at your every movement through the screen with a small and content smile on his face. How he’d sit at his desk for hours, with the only time he’d look away being to rub the blur out of his eyes and to use the restroom.

You’re just so fucking adorable without even knowing it, he thinks. Every time you get up and walk out of the room to grab or do something, his eyes are carefully following your figure like a hawk— praying that you hurry up and come back into frame where he could see you, because he didn’t have enough cameras to put around your whole house. God, he just gets so excited watching you that he can’t help but let’s his hands wander down into his pants and start jerking off the boner you unknowingly had caused him.

How he’d grip his nails into the arm of his chair in desperation and thrust his hips up to counter the pace of his hand, throwing his head back and sobbing out your name in lots of pathetic, shallow whimpers when he squirts his load of cum all over his keyboard. His breath is inconsistent as he rides out his emotive orgasm, face flushed into a deep shade of vermillion with beads of sweat trickling down from his forehead to his neck. But not once. Not once do his eyes leave you as you sit quietly at your desk, with a towel wrapped snugly around your body and drops of water occasionally rolling down your glowing skin.

He bet you smelled like heaven its damn self, and he wanted nothing more then to be sitting beside you and stuffing his face into the crease of your neck to breath in your heavenly aroma— but sitting behind a screen and watching you from behind a camera was enough for him, for now. Scaramouche slightly adjusts in his chair and watches in anticipation as you stand up from your own seat and stalk over towards your bed, stopping right in front of the edge of it.

His slight curiosity quickly morphs into full faced shock when your hand reaches up to your towel to slowly untie it— and he physically feels his breath stop as the material almost elegantly falls from your body and dropping to the floor under your feet. He’s stunned, eyes blown wide and with each second that passes, he can feel how his heart rate quickly increases by the beat. “Oh… my fu— fucking god.” He staggers, his cock physically twitching in to the palm of his hand. You’re naked,

Jaw slacked, Scaramouche— who’s still in his state of shock, stares so intently as your ass allures him in almost teasingly when it sways side to side as you crawl into the middle of your bed, and lay back comfortably onto the mattress. Perfect, you looked absolutely perfect as your hands trailed down your skin and towards your— your… wait a minute, are you about to do what he think you’re about to do? He leans in so close where his head is almost touching his monitor, his hands planting on the desk surface to keep him from toppling over out of excitement— and trying so hard not to blink until you finally…

Finally bring your hand down to your thighs and spread them apart ever so slightly so your fingers can slip in between and access your pussy. He moans, a full fledged moan falls from his lips when you start teasing your cute little clit with your fingers. “Fuck, fuck, no fucking way—” is this real? Finally, what he’s been waiting for this entire time, for you to finally (and unknowingly) show him that filthy side you’ve been hiding away.

His hands are quick to reach back down to his cock, before he quickly starts to masturbate again— this time however, he has something to look at while he does so. His hand is moving at an almost inhumane speed up and down his shaft, and he knows that if you keep it up— toying with your cunt and laying so erotic looking on your bed— he won’t last for much longer.

God you sounded so fucking cute too. When you’d let out little whimpers as you slowly start to insert a finger inside your hole, Scaramouche is grunting out your name and pretending you’re making those sounds right next to his ear while he fucks into you. How you’d let out small whines and use your free hand to play with your nipples, his tongue flops out of his mouth and glides over his bottom lips to imagine he were the one doing it. The whole sight of you touching your self just has him so hot and heavy that he can’t help but grip onto his cock harder then normal and tug at it like it was going to run away.

Just as Scaramouche is about to cum, as he’s hunched so far forward and sobbing out your name in a broken tone— he hears a static sound from the audio of the camera, before your cute little voice enters his ears again. He has to pause, the rapid movement of his hand stops along the shaft of his cock as well. What was that? Was he hearing things, or did you really just—

“Mmhm— Scara!”

Oh, wow.

“Ah…” it takes a while to register, his brain racking for an answer before it finally clicks. You just… moaned his name… while you’re playing with your pretty cunt with those pretty little fingers, thinking about him. Only him, no one else. “Oh… my fucking fuck!”

Yeah… Scaramouche has never cum so hard in his life before.

Also rushed to see if he was screen recording or not. Imagine his anger if he wasn’t l m a o 💀

[captainofthedauntless]

hellooo, im not sure what your request rules are i couldnt find them but if this is within the rules, could you do headcanons of how each of the bayverse boys would like, appreiciate y/ns butt?? like you know how partners sometimes tap their s/os butt when they walk past? which boy would give a lil slap and which would just gently place their hand on it? if this isnt within the rules im sorry! if you just dont wanna write it thats cool too! i love youre writing okay byyyyeeeee <3

Hello, Anon! Thank you for asking- I do have rules, which you can find here. I also added them to my pinned for easy access. (And thank you for being so polite! I'm so glad you like my writing :) )

Headcanons below!

I think all four of the guys are very responsive, and are very quick to adjust to their partner's comfort levels- so if you're uncomfortable with them touching you in a certain way or area, they avoid it whenever possible.

If left to their own devices, though:

Donnie is a big fan of letting his hand rest on your back and leaning past you to show you something he's working on, or explain some formula he's got written out, or share something on his computer. It's moments like that, comfortable in his element, where his hand is most likely to find its way to rest against your butt. Chances are higher if you walk up while he's sitting in his computer chair. Easy reach.

Playful Donatello will, if given the opportunity, smack your butt with the whip of a towel or a wound-up shirt and a shit eating grin.

Doesn't usually smack your butt when he passes by you. He's far more likely to squeeze your shoulder or elbow for that little dose of affection. But it's fair game if you're leaning against a counter or table or desk, assuming you're not holding anything dangerous. (He always checks.)

Not big on touching your butt around anyone else, but will rest his hand just above it with zero problem.

Leo could go either way. It depends on his mood more than anything.

If he's feeling sweet and loving, it's not at all uncommon for his hand to rest on your hip and occasionally shift to your butt for a few moments and a little pat or squeeze before moving back.

If he's being a little shit, he makes it his life's mission to tap your butt when you least expect it. He likes to tease you about needing better situational awareness, and gets more than a little smug about his speed and stealth.

The most he'll do around anyone else is a silent, subtle pat pat. Everything else is for when you two have privacy. (Will go out of his way to catch you in a room away from everyone else for a kiss and a booty slap, though.)

Mikey loves touching you, period. Loves smacking your butt when you don't expect it, just to hear you yelp. Loves casually resting his hand there when he's standing beside you. Will pat it during hugs if he's feeling mischievous.

Usually, he only touches the butt when you're in a good mood. It's playful and goofy. But he will, occasionally, do it if you're sad as a way to give you a taste of normalcy.

He's a big fan of pairing butt touches with nicknames. Like "Hey, cuteness," Paired with a gentle swat, or "How's it shakin', baby cakes?" With a little jiggle-inducing pat and a shit eating grin.

Will do any of the above around anyone unless you seem uncomfortable. He has zero shame, but will act like he found some for you if the need arises.

Raph smacks your butt all the time, but only long into your relationship. The first time he does it is after a week of hyping himself up. You're standing at the sink in your kitchen washing dishes, and you hear him walk up behind you before one hand rests on the counter and the other gently collides with your butt. "Anythin' I can do?" He asked, a note of shyness in his voice that made you smile before pointing him to your dish towels.

After that, it slowly becomes more and more frequent. Loves to smack it in passing, smirking to himself whenever you squeak or laugh.

Will lift you up just because he can, and will absolutely support your butt with his hands.

He will smack your butt in group settings, but it's more subtle than when you're alone. More of a tap of affection than anything, and never around Splinter.

[silhouetteonpaper]

DERIVED FROM POWER | Ch. 7

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7

WC: 1589

Warnings: Running away

CHAPTER SEVEN

​​Y/N stood in front of the soft glow of Tony’s computer, the entire tower silent as everyone else lay sleeping. She waited even longer this time to make sure everyone would be fast asleep, leaving no chance of getting caught. On the engineer’s computer she had located HYDRA’s base and was figuring out the best route to get there. Her mind was dead set on the plan.

She would arrive unarmed, ready to turn herself in so no one else would be at risk. It wasn’t fair to the Avenger’s that all their time and energy was being wasted on the young girl who couldn’t catch a break, she knew she needed to put an end to it all. She didn’t stop to think if she was being unreasonable, her own self-conscious state taking over.

Y/N wasn’t worried anymore, she wasn’t scared. She felt it was the best option, and although she had no idea what HYDRA’s intentions were, she’d rather find out than see any one of the Avengers suffer. Thankfully, Tony wasn’t very good at hiding his own research on HYDRA, most of it being easily accessible once Y/N was inside his computer. She had all she needed to find the closest base.

The girl knew the team locked the exits at night for safety and so she couldn’t escape. But Y/N was also aware she had the ability to create and destroy energy, and tonight was the night she’d finally figure out how to use it. So, dressed in a warm sweatshirt and sweatpants, Y/N made her way to the first floor entrance.

She approached the tall glass doors, the floor eerily silent apart from the bubbling fountain. Y/N pushed the door, and sure enough it was locked like she expected. She took a few steps back, focusing her eyes on the handle’s keyhole. She squinted her mind in complete focus as she held her stare.

A soft click could be heard, making Y/N jump a little. She didn’t expect it to actually work. The door was easily pushed open, the girl now walking down the quiet sidewalk as she slipped her hood on. The only sound was from her shoes hitting the concrete softly, or the occasional car engine driving by. She briskly stepped through the chilly night on the lookout for the closest subway station.

Luckily, she’d done her research and there was one just a few blocks away. After heading down the stairs to the underground station, the last few late trains were making their rounds, Y/N hopping on the first one that would take her directly where she needed to go. The next few stations were all empty as the train passed through them, the only people there being homeless campers or late night janitors. The low buzz of the flickering station lights greeted her as the doors swished open at each stop.

Y/N rode four more stops Southbound, quickly stepping off the subway as soon as the doors slid open with a gust of wind. She didn’t have to walk far before she spotted the red graffiti depicting a tentacle on a tile wall of the subway station. Y/N knew she was close, she just had to walk through the door labeled ‘maintenance’ right across from the graffiti per her research.

As soon as she swung open the inconspicuous grey door, her world went dark.

—————

“It’s nearly lunchtime, are you sure we should just leave her alone? She needs to eat.” Yelena spoke to Wanda, Natasha, Steve, and Peter, all gathered around the living room. Wanda nodded, stretching and standing.

“You’re right, I’ll go wake her up.” She decided, walking off to the hallway. They assumed Y/N was just overwhelmed and tired, sleeping in late today. They originally chose to leave her alone for the morning, offering more time to process and rest especially after yesterday's events.

Wanda knocked softly on Y/N’s bedroom door, slowly opening it after not hearing a response. “Hey, Y/N…” She spoke kindly as she peeked inside. Looking to the bed, she was surprised to see it was completely empty. Wanda’s brows furrowed, unsure as to why the girl wasn’t laying there. She walked into the room, glancing around for any sign of the young girl. Nothing.

She opened the closet, just in case the girl was hiding. No Y/N. Stepping into the bathroom, she could clearly see there was no one here. But where did she go? “Shit.” Wanda spoke as she realized: Y/N probably escaped, successfully this time. Before she jumped to conclusions, she needed to tell the team.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked as a concerned Wanda appeared from the hallway. Everyone shifted to look at her.

“Y/N’s gone.” She stated plainly. The group all turned with slightly appalled faces, surprised the young girl could have actually followed through on her threats to leave. But the entire team also wanted to be sure she wasn’t just wandering the tower before going into full protective mode.

“Let’s get the security camera footage from Tony, maybe we can see where she went. Who knows, she might just be somewhere in the building.” Steve offered. The group all nodded in agreement, getting up to walk to Tony’s lab.

“You mean to tell me that the girl we were supposed to watch like a hawk just disappeared?” Tony said in disbelief. He was partially defensive because he knew it was also on him, the entire team being responsible for Y/N’s safety. Everyone stayed silent, knowing all of them messed up and just wanting to fix it.

“Look, the longer you rant the farther she could get, so can you please just pull up the camera footage?” Steve asked with frustration. Tony sighed, pulling his chair closer to his desk and clicking around his computer screen. The rest of the team huddled around, ready to dissect the footage.

He opened up video footage that showed the hallway with all the bedroom doors. Scrolling forward farther into the night, he suddenly played it at normal speed when the young girl could be seen exiting her room. “There she is,” Tony said happily. The time stamp read 1:12 am, which wasn’t a great sign. Everyone’s nerves increased as Tony switched camera views to see where Y/N was headed.

She walked into the elevator, down to the first floor, and straight towards the front doors which swing open without her even touching them. “Since when does she know how to use her powers like that?” Peter asks as he watches Y/N unlock the door using only her eyes.

“Since last night, I guess.” Natasha responds, squinting her eyes to see the zoomed out footage of the girl exiting the building. “Shit, she did leave. Do you still have access to the city cameras?” The redhead asks Tony.

“Who do you think I am?” He smirks, opening up a new window with camera footage of the street outside the Avengers tower. They watch as the girl slips on her hood and goes into the subway station down a few blocks.

“Where is she going?” Peter asks, worrying with the rest of the group where she could possibly be right now. No one answers, Tony still clicking to different cameras to keep up with the girl on the run. He locates the next few stations, finding the subway doors sliding open for a moment to reveal the girl inside the train before moving on to the next station.

At the fifth station, she was gone. “Wait, where did she go?” Yelena asked, seeing the empty subway car. Tony went back to the previous station, replaying the subway stopping then speeding off. She stood in the cart there, but then was gone at the next station. When did she step off? He thought for a moment, before pulling up a subway route map.

He scanned the different stops, referring back to the camera footage to double check something as he suddenly realized exactly what happened. “No, no…” Tony uttered. He furiously searched his computer, pulling up a specific file.

“What is it? Tony?” Wanda pressed, her concern growing by the second. He located the file depicting the HYDRA logo overtop of a map. The map showed the subway stations under a grid of the city, the logo standing on a specific station. The entire group fell completely silent, everyone unable to breathe as they all realized. “No, it can’t be true…” Wanda refused to believe it, the thought of Y/N doing something as stupid as that seeming unreal.

“There’s one station that doesn’t have cameras because HYDRA took them down when they first set up there, and it happens to be the exact station Y/N got off on, where that missing security footage is.” Tony spoke with regret.

Wanda stepped away from the huddle, rubbing her hand across her forehead. She knew Y/N was fearful and under a lot of pressure, but she didn’t know the girl felt it bad enough to do something this extreme. After their moment together the other day, she thought Y/N felt at least a little better, but maybe she was wrong. Everyone was quiet, unsure how to process this. They were a tough match for HYDRA, and Y/N was so vulnerable the team couldn’t begin to imagine what they’d do to her.

Finally, Natasha spoke and broke the silence. “Well, let’s go get her back.”

[mantisgodsdomain]

Can you tell more about ZB-162 please? It is sorting signals in my brain

...we have a 2.8k fic covering it WIP and scheduled to release by the end of February, if it counts?

We've posted it once or twice before (most notably in the dating poll), but ZB-162 is, functionally, the communications bug of the Snakemouth Den colony. Although its body is of a bee, it doesn't really consider itself to be one anymore - it considers itself to be a cordyceps symbiote that simply happens to inhabit a bee shell, and its former life to have very little impact on it. It is ZB-162, it was named as such pretty much the moment the cordyceps took, and it never really looked back.

Although not one of the first cordyceps to be made (it is, specifically, the 162nd zombee to be created in Snakemouth Den), it was one of the first to be successfully linked in a communication network. It's an "older" colony member due to having been in active communication since close to the beginning of the colony, and is the bug who both engineered most of the communication system in Snakemouth

It is possessed of a handful of Very Specific Traits - it cannot bring itself to stay idle, unable to sit still when there is anything it can do. This prevents it from hibernating, as much of the Snakemouth Den colony did during the time the lab was sealed. It has been up (and working on communications) more or less nonstop since it was connected, and is unlikely to stop any time soon - it prefers upkeep and busywork to any more active jobs.

Due to being more or less constantly active, it's basically always fiddling with things - it keeps the communication network functional throughout the cordyceps colony, which mostly means maintaining relays and keeping conversation threads separate, preventing colony members from "overhearing" private conversations or accessing information or threads of thought they'd rather keep private.

It has more or less unlimited access to the Snakemouth Den computers, having linked itself up to them while the roaches were still alive - it has access to more or less all of the files and controls for the lab, though it's VERY limited on what it can do with them. The main power source for the lab got taken out during the cordyceps breakout, and it's basically limited to what can be done on emergency power - and it completely lacks enough power to actually open the main doors, after they were sealed.

It runs a good amount of its programming through Kjdrira, since they have more processing power and storage space on their crystals, but it still hears a good chunk of the conversations around Snakemouth Den. A good chunk of its colonymembers are very disappointed by the fact that it isn't more gossipy, but the hivemind setup that Snakemouth's cordyceps have set up means that most things eventually get put into circulation, anyways.

It's been active longer than most of the other cordyceps combined, and has gotten a bit... jaded, during the time. You can only do so much, when you have a hundred years awake. Things seep in through the cracks. It's got no desire to be a bug anymore - it was terrible at that, anyways - but sometimes it wonders if this is any better, or if it's just caught in a different cage. It's a bit more positive once the lab gets unsealed, but it... doesn't really leave, regardless. It's spent a whole working on the lab systems. It's not really the kind of bug who would abandon its work for that.

Functionally, it's just one of those "we uploaded a human mind into the system to make this AI" setups, but it's still fully capable of not being an AI and simply returning to the human technician body that it occasionally uses to spruce up its own systems it just has no desire to do that because as far as it's concerned it's more AI than human in the first place and the body attached is mostly something that it can use to fix its cabling so it can go back to being an AI.

[fllagellant]

Also speaking of the Chromebook boom thing , growing up I Witnessed the shift in my schools . My middle school had a computer lab my first year , but then it was made into another classroom . The computers ? No clue what was done with them . Instead , you were to rent a Chromebook if you needed any online work done . Besides , google has all applications as apps , so you just need to download these apps and keep them on your phone all the time for schoolwork .

In highschool , only a few classes had access to actual computer . Photography , Computer Science … and that was it . Sure , in both middle and high school , we had computers in the library , but four computers is nothing for a full school of students . You had to fight tooth and nail for an hour on the computer in my highschool , and book in advance . If you were late , someone else got your spot . Naturally , a lot of us ( me included ) didn’ t want to fight for that when it was made 100x easier to rent a chromebook for a semester … if we needed to print something , we all had a teacher that would do it for us . We were pushed away from using computers

Chromebooks , unsurprisingly , are far cheaper than computers . And were advertised heavily to family to be the laptop replacements for student . It’ s way more probable ! It has all the needed apps built in ! You don’ t need to worry about the hassle a computer or laptop might bring ! Hell , I have a chromebook now . Hardly used , only cracked open for taxes or school related uses , occasionally used for like . Little joys . I had a hand me down dell laptop as a child , and now I have a chromebook . I want the hand me down laptop back ! Trust me !

Also this idea that all children cannot fathom a computer and are all fools bc they might struggle with dealing with flies on a computer ; What . Number one , go to a public library and see the children lined up to use a big old computer for games and school and whatever they want to do for the hour and bit they get . Kids aren’ t scared of a computer , but most don’ t have a chance to be Around Them . Much less have one of their own . Listen . If they could have their own , they would ! They love those things ! Number two , when children and young people are struggling with something because they are a part and were raised in that sudden technical shift , be fucking normal about it . I guarantee they want to understand how to sort files and know how to save specific projects to specific drives , but they never had a chance to Learn . And now that they have to , you getting on a high horse about it is Ridiculous . Oh no , young people have to learn something that adults aged 40-50 also struggle with now . The horror .

Like I get the feeling . It is bad that people are lacking that sort of computer literacy people expect . But do you think they asked for everything to be switched to Chromebook google drive no hassle no fun and to now be the big idiots who need help to learn about things they we never exposed to . Do you really think that

[xarrixii]

Chapter_34 : "In the Nowhere" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

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Garry Roy clicked the butt-end of a pen against his cheek, staring at the monitor absentmindedly. He chewed on his bottom lip, eyes occasionally darting at the black phone screen on the desk.

With a low sigh, Garry reaches for the phone and unlocks it, sloppily punching in the numbers and putting it up to his ear to ring.

After the fifth try, he almost throws the thing back onto the desk, setting his head in his hand. “Damn it. Old hag.” Then he starts bouncing the clicker on the pen on the metal, staring again into the monitor.

“You okay in there, Roy?” Chief Kepler called from outside the office.

Sometimes he forgot they’d installed glass walls/doors for people to look in. Said police couldn’t have any secrets.

“Fine,” he replied a little too gruffly.

As fine as having your kid go missing could reasonably be. A kid with police training who got caught up in their mother’s mess.

Garry rubbed his eyes, hitting the call button on the phone again and hitting speaker, to no avail. He tried to look at anything but the report on the screen, the one he’d written up himself about his own damn kid.

“Where the hell d’ya go, Al?” he whispers, slumping over further in the chair.

He shouldn’t have waited half a month. He should have just called Urban, should’ve called Amaterasu sooner than he had.

After a long pause, Garry uploaded a file into the empty space where it was meant to be on the report. The clearest photo with just Alph they had—kid always took pictures exclusively with others—their senior photo.

Alph had spent so much time arguing with the school to let them pick one with Urban in it, one that wasn’t a joke. School (and Urban) had insisted on a serious one though. And like hell was Garry about to put… they called it a meme, right? on a missing persons file. Which meant Alph was resting, smiling, against their first motorcycle. Garry still remembered the jokes they’d tried to crack for an honest grin. In the end, it was just letting Urban smile disappointedly, shaking his head, that got them there.

The glass door cracked open, Kepler strolling in with his arms crossed, nodding at the computer. “You’re free to go home. I’ll finish it.”

“I still got a whole day of work ahead of,”

“Non-negotiable. You got a little boy at home yet to take care of. We’ll call you if we need ya. Get outta here.”

Garry’s mouth pulls taut, slowly rising from the chair and pocketing the phone. “You’re sure?”

“If I say it’s an order as your chief rather than a worried friend, does it help?”

He responds with only a grumble.

“We’re all worried about your kid, Roy. Whatever mess they’ve gotten themselves into, whoever pulled them in’s coming out fucked up.”

“Encouraging violence?”

Kepler only shrugs. “Some people deserve it.”

Damn straight, Garry thinks, mind drifting to Amaterasu again.

“Seriously, get outta here. Go home. Take the little guy out for ice cream. Just get your mind off of this. Your job is being a father right now, not a cop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Garry groans. “I’m leavin’.”

Upon seeing Alph’s truck gone from the lot, Garry had made a mad dash to the elevator, finger jabbing into the call button several times.

“Don’t make it come any faster.” Someone said from behind him.

“‘Kid called it a psychological trick once. Damn me if I don’t wanna believe it right about now.”

The guy snickered lightheartedly. ���Guess so.”

When the elevator doors pulled open, Garry had practically pried them the rest of the way just to get back into his apartment on the 34th floor a little bit faster. All the rooms had access to one set of security camera codes: the parking lot. To watch their cars without having to come up and down all the time. Alph had been a big advocator for it when the building had voted on it.

Damn was Garry lucky for it right about now.

“Ty?!”

“You’re home early!” Ty exclaimed, poking his head out from the game on the TV. Garry was just relieved Ty was still here.

“Al come home yet?”

“No. Hold on, Dad, I have a game to finish.”

“It’s okay, kiddo, I gotta check somethin’ really fast here.” He continued into his bedroom, pulling up the laptop with silent come on, come ons. He rummaged through one of the drawers, getting out the sticky note with the security login key.

Garry had to type it three separate times to get it right, clicking the keyboard too fast.

He didn’t know what he’d expected to see. Someone coming back and taking Alph’s truck out of spite or whatever nonsense, Alph coming back themselves for it, Amaterasu, or what. It definitely wasn’t Urban.

Garry licked his lips, taking in a deep breath. Knowing the guy, he’d return it and try to pretend he’d never taken it at all. Had probably been banking on Garry being at work yet. He’d just have to catch him when he came back with it.

“Dad!” Ty hollered from the other room. “You gonna pick up the other controller?”

Your job is being a father right now, not a cop.

He took the laptop back to the living room with him, and before he knew it, it was dark, and he saw Alph’s truck re-entering the lot. With Urban in it.

“I’ll be back,” Garry got up, patting Ty’s shoulder with the kid’s mumbled affirmation. “Don’t let my little character die.”

“Kill Reichler? The badass one that runs on walls and shit? Never.” Ty flashes a toothy grin before his focus returns to the game.

The luckiest part was that Urban focused so much on small details, they were still trying to park the truck the way it had been that morning to notice Garry’s car sitting there. Or Garry walking up, “Hey.”

Urban practically jumped hopping out from the driver’s seat. “Hi.”

“Where’s,” Garry had to think for a second to remember the name. “Where’s Raiden?” Urban’s mouth was agape, swallowing down hard. He said nothing, arms just falling limp to his sides and looking down at the concrete, shaking. A little gentler this time, “Where’s my kid?”

With tears stinging his eyes, “I don’t know.”

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

[autumnalwalker]

Empty Names - 20 - Changeling Child

Author's Note: In which Ashan helps out a fairy that just realized they aren't human and draws uncomfortable parallels to his own experiences. Also, Lacuna horrifies everyone with mad science. There were a lot of delays with life generally getting in the way of this chapter being written, but I am a little proud of myself for just barely squeezing this in before the year ends, as per the goal I set for myself a month ago (in my home time zone anyhow). That said, I didn't manage to give this chapter my usual once-over full reread before posting, so I won't be too surprised if I edit this post later, if only to add the spoiler commentary to the tags. Hope you enjoy, and Happy New Year, everyone. Minor edits to wording/typos have now been made and additional commentary has been added to the tags. Word Count: 11,337 Content Warnings: Fantasy fight scene violence. Attempted (but failed) mind control. Passing reference of blood and gore without detail. Mild body horror. Deadnaming and misgendering a trans person (not Lacuna for once).

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

It is a strange thing, to suddenly obtain a new material possession when one has previously made a point of keeping as few as possible.  Stranger still when that new possession is slightly too big to fit into the folded space within the sleeves of your robe to keep safely on your person at all times.  Eris did however include a white carrying case to go along with the matte-black laptop she gifted to Ashan last week, so that is something.  It is not quite the same shade of white as his robe, but it is close enough that Ashan appreciates the thought.

For the time being, that laptop has stayed hooked up inside the guestroom within Bridgewood Manor that Ashan has been occupying since that first mission with Road nearly two months ago.  At Lacuna’s urging he has tried to incorporate it into his morning and evening routines, if only to check the electronic mail.  Thus far that has mostly just consisted of messages from Lacuna containing images with humor he is still grasping, the occasional suggestion from Eris regarding educational resources, and one from Bridgewood congratulating the three of them on connecting to the Manor’s WiFi.  That last part had been nearly as esoteric process as Lacuna’s explanation of memes, and that had rapidly devolved into a rambling lecture about long cats, defunct deities, a philosopher called Plato, dual linguistic meanings lost in translation, and the ultimately futile and deceptive nature of the written word.

Whether it had been Lacuna’s intention or not, that extended feline rant led to his spending even more of his downtime on the computer than in the Bridgewood library since then.  Not for the memes, but to find out who Plato was.  That reference to an (apparently) historic figure as if familiarity were assumed once more drove home the fact that being stolen away before even completing an elementary-level education made him a foreigner in his own homeland.  True, Aliana had tutored him on mathematics, logic, literary analysis, and other such skills in addition to magic, but none of the history or philosophy he learned under her guiding hand came from Earth.  And why would it have?

But now this strange little bifurcated box offered a way to, if not fully amend, then at least mitigate that ignorance.  While Ashan had long been aware of the Internet and its theoretical use as a store of knowledge and a communication medium, between a childhood in a home without a computer and adolescence spent in world without electronics he had never really experienced it until Eris showed up at the Lonely Walk office and handed him a surprise gift.  To hear about it is one thing, but to actually scroll through the pages upon pages listing titles for tens of thousands of transcribed books free for access and hyperlinked inter-referencing encyclopedia articles tracing an interwoven tapestry of conceptual linkage from ancient philosophers to arboreal bearcats was another thing entirely.  Ashan had known scholars on Orthon who would weep with joy and envy at the mere idea of such a library. 

Admittedly, there were some complications with exploring the wider Internet caused by his translation charm not knowing how to handle trying to use a keyboard.  Writing words by hand had been bad enough ever since the onset of his condition, causing whatever he wrote to come out as a pidgin of a dozen or so different languages - many of which he had never even personally encountered before - that was effectively gibberish to anyone without translation magic of their own or a very intense interest in linguistics.  Trying to force his thoughts through a single achingly unrecognizable symbol at a time to try to form words specifically in a language that had been stolen from him was… distressing.  Speech recognition software had proven no better, with the device - as Eris explained it to her - responding to specific physical sound patterns without any true perception happening for his charm to tap into.  But he still has the collection of links and bookmarks his friends had sent him, and that is proving to more than suffice.  Just those first two resources Eris provided him with were more than could be read in a single human lifetime.

Friends.  What a wonderful thing to be able to call someone.  How had he never realized what he was missing?

So now, on this particular morning, after his long-standing morning rituals of exercise and meditation (and a breakfast that he is perfectly capable of remembering and not putting off when there are not more pressing matters to attend to), Ashan turns on his laptop and checks his electronic mail.  There is one new message, sent from Lacuna at two in the morning.

Its subject line reads “Simulations are done.”

Ashan is not normally one to hurry or rush things.  Ashan barely takes the time to skim the full text of the message before closing the laptop and departing from Bridgewood Manor and the surrounding Estate at the quickest possible pace that will not leave him visibly winded.  The brief time that it takes to reach the tree bridge that will transport him to its twin tree across the street from the office feels like an age in his excitement, and he tries to remind himself that after this long of a wait a few extra minutes will not make a difference.  It is certainly nothing worth breaking decorum over, even with no one else around.

An eager grin the like of which has not graced his face in years creeps in all the same as he steps out of the Bridgewood Estate’s secure transit between the trees and into the early morning sunshine.

He crosses the street and then the sidewalk, and then the outermost of the security wards surrounding the Lonely Walk Outreach Agency.  Invisible to the mundane or inattentive eye though they might be, after all the time he has spent adjusting and fine tuning them it is difficult for Ashan not to perceive them as a shifting rainbow lattice-work overlaid in concentric bubbles around the refurbished antique building.

The front door is unlocked, indicating that Lacuna must already be inside, given that Road and Eris were not expecting to be back from the followup to their most recent mission for another day or two.  Ashan heads straight downstairs towards Lacuna’s basement lab; the woman is hardly ever anywhere else these days.

And yet, when the door slides open he finds her usual chair unoccupied despite all the computer monitors surrounding it being turned on.  Ashan’s first thought is that she has simply stepped out for a moment to feed or relieve herself, but then he notices the figure displayed on the monitors.  Eight different cameras at eight different angles and levels of zoom are displaying eight live feeds split across two screens  Eight mechanical eyes watch a faceless white mannequin in worn and baggy clothes standing almost perfectly still in the middle of an evenly-lit blank white room.  Its chest and shoulders rise and fall to the rhythm of slow and steady breaths despite the lack of mouth or nose.  A timestamp on one of the video feeds tells Ashan that the recording has been running for nearly five hours now.

Ashan crosses the lab to the testing chamber door where he finds the clothes Lacuna was wearing yesterday lying crumpled on the floor.  Curiosity morphing into concern, he hits the large red button to open the testing chamber doors and steps inside.

The mannequin takes no notice of him.

“Hello,” Ashan softly calls out to the figure.

No response.

“Lacuna, is that you?” Ashan asks, sliding his wand out of his sleeve and into his hand in a practiced gesture.

A shudder runs through the mannequin.

“Lacuna,” Ashan emphasizes the name, “are you alright?”  Cautiously easing closer, he realizes that the mannequin is making a fist around something in one of its hands.

The mannequin twitches and jerks, contorting its limbs.

“Lacuna, may I see what that is you are holding?”

The mannequin goes still again before slowly turning its head down to eyelessly look at the hand it has brought up to chest level.  Its fingers uncurl to reveal a sphere of interwoven plastic tendrils that rolls off of its hand and shatters when it hits the ground.

In an instant, the mannequin grows three inches, shifts its skin from blank white to a mere sickly pale with the occasional freckle, sprouts hair, and contracts its blank face to reveal the contours of features.

It surprises Ashan just how light Lacuna is when she falls forward into his arms.  He is barely even eye level with her shoulder on the rare occasions she stands up straight, but he realizes now just how much she is skin and bones beneath the loose-fitting clothing she always seems to favor.

“Don’t tell Eris,” Lacuna breathes into his ear before passing out.

*******

“I’m sorry,” Lacuna apologizes for the tenth time since waking up.    The first three times had come in quick succession upon regaining consciousness a minute or so after fainting.  The fourth came when asking for a moment of privacy to change back into her clothes from yesterday, and the fifth when emerging from her lab some minutes later.  The sixth was a part of turning down Ashan’s advice to put herself into the autodoc suite.  The seventh was instigated by her stumbling on the stairs ascending out of the office’s basement, which in turn led to the eighth when accepting Ashan’s offer to help her up.  The ninth took the place of thanks when Ashan unstuck the cap she was struggling with on the bottle of apple juice she retrieved from the refrigerator.  What this latest one is for is less immediately apparent.

Now she sits at the other end of the kitchen table from Ashan, staring down at an empty wrapper of plain salted crackers.  Stripes of morning light cut between the window blinds and divvy up the space between them.

“For what are you sorry this time?” Ashan prompts.

Lacuna flinches at the question, withdraws momentarily, and hesitantly answers, “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?  That must be annoying, sor- Gah!  Why do I keep - I mean -” She stumbles over her words a few more times before closing her eyes, holding up one finger, and taking a long drink to drain the rest of her glass.  Setting down the glass, she opens her eyes and tries again while drumming her fingers on her arms in a rolling motion.

“I should have gone to bed and gotten a decent night’s sleep after sending you that message.  So that I’d be able to help you today.  Instead I got over-excited and tried to squeeze in a little bit of time now that the server load was free.  For a personal project.  Selfish.”

“Apology accepted,” Ashan says, keeping the disappointment out of his voice.  He tries to tell himself that just one more day of waiting will not hurt him.  And if Lacuna is a reckless enough enchanter to run some manner of botched transmutation ritual on herself, perhaps it would be for the best that he does not let her try to experimentally “help” him.  “But why did you not want me to tell Eris?  Friends are supposed to aid one another when distressed, are they not?”

“I don’t want her to worry about me.  Same for Road,” she mumbles.

“You mean to say that becoming stuck as a faceless imitation of a human being all night is not cause for concern?”

“It’s fine!” Lacuna snaps defensively and then shrinks back from her own raised voice.  “It’s fine,” she says more quietly.  “I’m fine.  I’m fine.  It’s a problem I’ve been working for a while now and that’s not even the worst thing that’s happened to me so far.  And the enchantment had a safety timer built in, so I would have been fine.” She raises her head, looking through Ashan rather than at him.  “Compared to some of the other mishaps, this one actually felt… nice?  It was quiet.  Like all the thoughts going in my head all the time finally shut up for once and let me just be.  Awareness without a sense of self to be aware of and in a room with no external stimulus.”  She slaps a hand to her forehead and laughs.  “Okay, wow, that does sound bad when I say it aloud, but I promise I’m fine.  It was actually about as restful as sleeping, I’m just a bit frazzled right now from the sudden jolt back into things.  And probably dehydration.  And maybe low blood sugar.  But I’m good now.  Mostly”

As Ashan opens his mouth to form a reply to that, several other noises interrupt him at once.  The sharp ringing of the outer barrier detecting an intruder with violent intent.  A shout of fear.  A howl of pain.

Before Lacuna can even make a surprised exclamation of her own, Ashan is already out the kitchen, past the repurposed check-in counter, and throwing open the door.  The frightened and haggard individual sporting a denim jacket covered in enamel pins on the other side stops dead in their tracks at the motion of a wand coming within an inch of poking their eye out.  Looking under and past the unexpected visitor’s placatingly raised arms, Ashan catches a glimpse of a smoking pantherine shape on the sidewalk dissipating in a sparkling green haze.  The tree-lined street is left empty except for fallen petals and parked cars.  The blue electric hatchback with claw marks on the side parked nearest to the former bed and breakfast had not been there when Ashan arrived barely half an hour ago.

Ashan’s eyes flick back to the individual standing in front of the door, locking gazes.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I was hoping you could tell me.  Now please, you gotta let me in.  Before it -” 

They double over groaning in pain.  With effort they crane their neck up to reveal a face flickering between two forms.  One of an unremarkably average brown-eyed human with two or three days of unshaven stubble, and the other violet-eyed with smooth, waxy leaf-green skin.  Violet eyes or brown, the look of desperate fear and confusion is the same.  It strikes Ashan how young they are.  No more than late teens.

“Help me,” they gasp.

Ashan guides them to a couch in the nearby living room, locking the door behind them.  They recover quickly enough after lying down - Lacuna catches up just in time to see the surprise guest’s face flicker for the last time - but even after their face settles back to human their left arm remains green.  They cradle it to their chest, as if it were still in pain.  Or as if they were trying to hide it.  Shame?  Fear?  Embarrassment?  All of the above, Ashan guesses.

“Name,” Ashan says, instruction more than question.  He remains standing, alert for the first sign of treachery from whomever he just invited in or of another attempt at entry from whatever that was outside.

“Tam,” the individual on the couch stammers.  “Tam Lin.”  Their green left hand clutches tighter at the utterance.

Ashan stares this Tam Lin down.  On the one hand, that sort of fear - the bewildered fear of having been abruptly thrust Backstage for the first time - is as difficult to fake as it is recognizable.  On the other hand, that which he suspects them to be are known to be excellent actors and none of their kind would so easily give away their Name.

“Tell me Tam Lin,” Ashan asks, “what brings you here today?” 

The green hand twitches at the Name’s emphasis, even without any attempt at nominal magic infused into his voice.  Yes, definitely one of the fair folk, but why the guileless deception?  Why take such risk with a Name freely spoken, as sensitive as their kind are to that?

“The website,” Tam says,  “it said you can help with weird stuff like this.  You can help me, right?”

“Most likely,” Ashan answers, “but first we need to know more specifically what your problem is.”

“If I may,” Lacuna speaks up from where she has perched on an ottoman at the other end of the couch from Tam.  As she slips her phone back into her skirt pocket and intently looks Tam up and down all her earlier disorientation has vanished completely.  Ashan knows that eager, almost hungry look.  It is a look he has seen on experimentally-minded wizards presented with a unique specimen and alchemists greedily eying rare reagents.  And on children seeing their favorite animal in the flesh for the first time.

With only the slightest misgiving, Ashan nods in assent.

Lacuna’s eyes light up and she leans in even closer.  “Right.  So.  Tam.  Let me know if I miss the mark anywhere.  As a kid you saw all sorts of fairies and similar magic.  When you got older you wrote them off as childhood make believe, but ever since you had strange and vivid dreams about them.  Maybe you even were one in your dreams.  When you hit puberty, those dreams got more frequent.  More intense.  Easier to remember.  Almost a second life whenever you were at your lowest points.  Still just dreams at the end of the night though.  Nothing you couldn’t put out of mind and focus on the ‘real world.’  And then one day.  A recent day.  I would guess.  One or both of your parents died.  Ever since, you’ve started having those dreams every night.  And then every time you closed your eyes.  And then when you looked in the mirror, wide awake, you looked like you did in your dreams.  That’s when something started following you.  Not knowing where else to turn, you turned to the Internet, and found us.  No one answered your calls or the message you left.  That’s my bad.  Real sorry about that.  So you hopped in the car and drove all night to our address.”

Tam stares at her, eyes wide and jaw agape.  “My moms are still alive, but everything else is - how did you know?”

Ashan tilts his head, surprised and curious to know himself.

Lacuna slips back into her usual discomfort, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.  “Sorry.  That was weird of me, wasn’t it?  Got carried away.  Touches on a… special interest of mine.  So.  Basically.  You’re a changeling.  A fairy swapped with a human baby to be raised in its place to take its Name.”

“You’re joking,” Tam denies.

“You were quite literally shapeshifting in front of me,” Ashan points out.

“Not intentionally,” Tam says.

“It wouldn’t be,” Lacuna says.  “Historically speaking, most children accused of being changelings were just some flavor of neurodivergent.  The real ones tend to blend in as normally as the baby they swapped with would have, fooling even themselves.  Not that there isn’t overlap between the two from time to time.  A Name isn’t just the name it’s tied to, it’s a whole identity, physical and mental.  Most changelings have no idea they’re not human until something triggers a change, at which point whatever fae liege made the bargain will come to retrieve them.  Or send a servant to do so.  Kinder ones will be upfront about it and explain things.  Maybe even make an offer to continue living as you are.” 

“And crueler ones will send a hunting beast to drag you back kicking and screaming,” Ashan posits.

Tam’s nervous nod is all the confirmation Ashan needs as to what tripped the wards around the office.

“What I’m still hung up on,” Lacuna says, “is what triggered your change.  Normally it’s the death of whichever parent made the deal, but…” She trails off as her eyes alight on one of the pins adorning Tam’s denim jacket.  A heart of four stripes.  Yellow, white, purple, and black.  “How long ago did you start calling yourself Tam?” she asks.

“A little over three years ago.” Tam answers.  “Just before I turned sixteen.  But, come to think of it, the dreams actually stopped for a while when I came out, if that’s what you’re getting at.  The therapist my moms had me see told me it was probably just a repression thing that didn’t need an outlet anymore now that I’d accepted myself.  I’d just about forgotten about them until this all started out of the blue a couple weeks ago.”

“You said ‘moms,’ plural,” Ashan observes.  “What about a father?”

Tam shakes his head.  “I asked about it once and they told me they went through a fertility clinic.  Anonymous donor.  No legal way to know who.”

“Oh, that’s clever,” Lacuna says.  “Dirty dealing and a really messed up way to get around the classic ‘firstborn child’ contract, but clever."

“Clever or not,” Ashan says, “I suspect it is beside the point at the moment.  The more pertinent question is this:  What do you want Tam?”

“What do I want?  I want to stop being chased by a giant monster cat!  I want to stop randomly turning green!  I want my life back!”

“Do you truly want that?  Even knowing what you know now?  Even with the knowledge that it may not be your life to begin with?”

“Of course it’s my life!  So what if I was switched with some other kid at birth?  It was me that everything happened to.  It’s me that everyone in my life knows.  My moms, my friends, my experiences, and my life!”

“And you are not the least bit curious about what else your life could be if you found more answers and embraced what you really are?”

“Oh screw you and your mind games.  Do I look like I give a shit about some absentee fairy king dad wants for me?  I know who I am and don’t you dare imply that my life hasn’t been real.”

“Good answer,” Ashan says.  “Now hang on to that conviction.  You shall need it.”

“What for?”

“For when we go tell a fae liege unused to being told ‘no’ that they cannot have what they want.”

*******

“Last check if you want to wait until Road and Eris get back,” Lacuna’s voice says through Ashan’s earpiece as he stands just inside the picket fence marking the border of the office and the unwarded sidewalk.

“Road left me behind for the express purpose of helping any clients that show up needing help while they are away, and that is exactly what I am doing now,” Ashan responds.  “We have taken the necessary precautions and I see no reason to doubt my ability to resolve the matter.  Or are you saying that you would rather wait?”

“I’m nervous, not gonna lie, but what else is new?  You’re the one with the hard job here, so we’ll be fine.  Anyway, mirror charm’s still holding strong on this end.  Tam still looks like you in here, and you still sound like them.  Let’s just hope it fools everyone else as well as it fools me.” 

According to Tam, the beast that has been hounding them for weeks now only shows itself when no one else is around, which presented a complication for any plans to assist them.  Fortunately Lacuna had been able to dig up a pair of bracelets she had enchanted some time back as part of one of her ever-vague “personal projects.”  Allegedly they operated via a modified perception filter to cause observers to perceive one wearer as the other while leaving the wearers’ perception unaltered.  That last part had caused Lacuna to deem the bracelets “an experimental failure but exactly what we need now,” while leaving Ashan and Tam to take her word on their efficacy.  While even now Ashan can tell that the bracelet is doing something whenever he glances down at his wrist, actively focusing on it is nearly as nauseating and disorienting as that concealment ritual of hers.  

The same goes for the little metal rectangle engraved with a not-quite-fractal on either side now hanging from a cord around his neck and tucked beneath his robe.  According to Lacuna it is supposed to provide protection from anything trying to get into his mind.  It was the one amulet out of the whole clinking mass she had tried to foist upon him that he accepted, and mostly just to placate her, if he is being honest.  She had been busy these past weeks with enchanting trinkets from her library of pre-recorded rituals from her old job and if Ashan had hung all that she had offered around his neck the combined static noise of their auras that close to him would have run the risk of making him sick.

Once again, he wonders how she has not accidentally killed herself already.  Or at least blown up her lab.

But enough of that.  What comes next requires a clear mind free of distracted musings.

A static tingle runs over Ashan as he steps through and beyond the outermost ward and onto the unprotected sidewalk.  He continues forward, past the car Tam hastily and crookedly parked on the curb.  The claw marks on the vehicle are long and deep, and numerous enough to indicate multiple attempts at retrieval. He comes to a stop with one foot on either side of the painted divider line bisecting the empty street. 

“I am ready now,” Ashan says to no one.  “Guide me to your master and I shall follow of my own free will.”

A sudden breeze carries the scent of dry leaves and kicks up a swirl of sparkling green dust.  The same synesthetic mapping that allows Ashan to “see” the wards around the office shows him a rapidly growing ring within the verdant haze.  A low growl rumbles out of the hole within the formless ring and a pantherine shape slinks out from behind the breeze. 

The great cat sharing the street with Ashan would be longer than he is tall even without the tail that coils and unfurls as it slowly sweeps back and forth.  The beast’s baldness only accentuates its bulging muscles and the isolated shock of dark hair atop its head. The brown eyes that stare up into Ashan’s look just like Tam’s.  It snarls, barring too-human teeth for the shape of its head, and then turns away. 

Ashan follows the hunting beast across the street to a fairy ring of white mushrooms near the bridge tree that most certainly had not been there when he arrived earlier this morning.  It pads around to the far side of the fairy ring, looks back to Ashan, gestures downward with its head, and flexes its claws.  Its front paws have thumbs. 

The message is clear enough: Step into the ring.  Run again and claws will catch. 

If the earlier swirl of dust was a tunnel, the fairy ring is a hole beckoning him into its depths.  Ashan knows better than to let himself fall in. 

He leaps. 

He does not look before nor during the leap.  Such transitions do not wish to be perceived.  It takes longer than it rightly should for his feet to touch the ground.  He keeps his eyes closed and tries not to heed his less biological senses lest nausea take him as he falls.  Not that “falling” is the correct word for it. That would imply an up or down. 

His arrival is signaled not by an impact but by the smell of dry leaves and the tickle of inhaled dust. He pinches his nose to stifle a sneeze and opens his eyes. 

The space he finds himself in cannot seem to decide if it wants to be a forest or a castle.  He is surrounded by pale-barked twisted trees.  He is standing in a solid-walled narrow corridor.  Fallen leaves crunch under his feet as he shifts his weight to look around.  A neat carpet stretches behind him off into shadows and before him up to an ornate beaded curtain.  A cloud-muted sun filters down through a canopy of desiccated foliage.  A star-backed moon shines through a high vault of stained glass.  Either way, motes of dust catch the weak light, shifting through the slow motion gyre of a breeze too weak for flesh to feel. 

“Are you alright?  We lost the feed for a minute there.”  The static crackle of signal decay does little to conceal the concern in Lacuna’s voice.  Is that not the tone she normally reserves for Eris?  Are she and Ashan closer than he realized, or does she worry like that with everyone she considers a friend?  He has little basis for comparison to correlate sensitivity of concern for safety with emotional investment. 

It is a distraction. 

He wants to ask her what she sees through the filter of the camera atop his ear.  To verify the chimeric nature of his environs that shifts with every turn of his head and blink of his eyes.  To tell her that her charm of mental protection does not work to shield his senses.

But he is playing the part of Tam Lin right now and Tam would have no reason to ask such questions of the empty air. 

He nods and hopes she takes the cue to be silent when the hunting beast pads past him toward the hanging moss (beaded curtain).

For all that Ashan prides himself on stepping as lightly as any thief or dancer, he cannot help but stir up puffs of dust from the carpet (pulverize dry leaves into blooming clouds) with every step.  The hunting beast’s guiding passage leaves no such trace.  It is its master’s creature within its master’s demesne.  Unlike Ashan, it is not showered with gray powder when passing through the moss (curtain) and into the throne room (parched glade) beyond. 

The hunting beast crosses the space and seats itself on its haunches in front of a tangle of roots (a bas relieved throne), from atop which presides the fae liege with whom Ashan has come to bargain.  It/He/She/They/Fae wear(s) wears robes of gray that are in the active process of becoming moth-eaten before Ashan’s eyes.  Fingers and forehead alike are adorned with bechained jewelry; metals tarnished and patinaed, gemstones dull.  Its/His/Her/Their/Faer face is an overlaid multitude that blurs expressions into an indistinct haze of imperfectly aligned features. 

Ashan nods his head and sweeps an arm in a gesture of respect.  It is not something Tam would do, but while Ashan has not dealt directly with the fair folk before he has been trained well enough to know the danger of losing oneself to a role in a place such as this and a true wizard bows to no higher authority.  Fortunately, this lukewarm obeisance does not seem to perturb the figure on the throne.

“The Seventeen-Named Count of Curses and Dust bids you a welcome homecoming and congratulations on joining the ranks of the Named, Carter, my little changeling.”

With that proclamation one of those seventeen unspoken Names is chosen for temporary prominence and a conceptual waveform collapses.  Ashan’s surroundings solidify into a single hybrid of a forest woven together into the shape of a castle.  Tight-packed trees interlace branches to merge into solid walls.  Leaves fallen from the canopy above have been carefully arranged into patterns on the forest floor. The fae liege now sits upon roots that have been expertly coaxed into the shape of a throne and wears only a single grandfatherly face.  The hunting beast at the foot of the throne winces.

“You honor me with this audience, great Count,” Ashan says.  “Pray tell, what next lies in store for a newly returned changeling?”

“So you do still recall the tongue of your true people in waking as well as dream.  That shall save us much time in preparing you for your role as one of my emissaries.  Once you have resworn your oaths of fealty to me your training in the ways and arts of my court shall commence.  There shall be no time wasted on pointless festivities, for ours is the dominion of the dust to which all things return.  To be my emissary is to weave the curses that will hasten that return, especially for those foolish enough to believe they can postpone it indefinitely.”

“Well, there’s your offer,” Lacuna says to Tam on the other end of the comms link.  “Magic and probably a bit of world-hopping.  Still want out?”

“Hell yeah I want out,” Tam exclaims loudly enough to be picked up by Lacuna’s microphone.  “Screw this dust-to-dust reaperman crap.”

Ashan nods in silent acknowledgment of the expected response and addresses the fae lord in front of him.  “O great Count, thank you for your answer, but I must now take my leave.  To be one of your emissaries is not my place.”

“You misunderstand your position, little changeling,” the Count says, “your role here in my court was ordained long ago.  Now Carter, kneel before me and renew your oaths.”

The hunting beast crouches and growls.  Ashan stands unbowed and serene.

“I do not answer to you.”

“Such impudence!  Have you no gratitude for your liege who saw fit to grant you a Name purchased in fair contract?  By that very Name, Carter, I command thee kneel and renew your oaths!”

The Count’s voice echoes through the forest and shakes the dust from the trees.  The roots of the throne writhe and the leaves stir from the floor.  The hunting beast yowls and Ashan stands unbowed and serene.

“I do not answer to you.”

Another of the Count’s Seventeen Names takes prominence and the parched forest glade closes into a vaulted stone audience chamber.  Fallen leaves sew themselves together into a threadbare tapestry of a carpet.  Soft wrinkles stretch smooth and tight over a sharp-featured skull.  From atop a marble throne embossed with arboreal motifs, the steel-eyed Countess of Curses and Dust glowers down at Ashan.

“You are mine.  You.  Shall.  KNEEL!”

A will that is not his own claws at the edge of Ashan’s consciousness, ancient and vicious.  The mental wards he was taught early on and has diligently kept up ever since fray and fracture.  The invasive presence reaches in and touches a stray surface thought, withering it down to a vague sense of something forgotten.  Perverse delight seeps in from the outside at the prospect of doing the same to every other thought until his very self is reshaped by erosion into an ideal servant.

The amulet beneath Ashan’s robe oscillates between burning and freezing against his skin.  The intruder in his mind recoils and retreats.  The Countess of Curses and Dust lets out a scream from her throne that sends the feasting moths fluttering away from her regalia.

“I.  Do not.  Answer.  To you.”  Ashan gasps.  He has denied the fae liege for a third time.   By the Law of Threes he should be safe from that avenue of coercion for now.

“What trickery is this?”  The Count(ess) asks.  Their face and hall flickers between aspects on every third word.  “You are not my changeling.  What are you?  You are full of shards of glass and shattered iron that writhes and drips with rotted ichor.  I will have no dealings with mad and broken gods or spawn of the eldritch.”

Suppressing a shudder at the thought of what Lacuna has hung around his neck and wrist, Ashan slips off his bracelet and the glamor disguising him as Tam Lin with it.  With an audience gained and the nature of Tam’s would-be master displayed, there is no further need for that ruse.

“I am the student of Aliana Glassgaze, wizard, warder, and master of the Dancing Dream Paints style.  I am here as the appointed champion of Tam Lin whom you would call Carter to speak on their behalf.  I have judged the treatment you would afford your vassals and would now negotiate their release from your service.”

The room settles back into a hall of stone.  “Interloper,” the Countess accuses, “you have no grounds on which to negotiate.  Carter was one of mine when still Nameless and accepted the offer to become a changeling with full knowledge of and agreement to the terms that would come after.  Whether or not he still remembers that agreement is immaterial.”

“Contracts made before a change in Name are not binding except between the Name’s new and original owners, and you were merely a middleman in that exchange.  Elsewise you would not require a renewal of oaths.”

“You argue semantics of the general where it is the spirit of the specific that matters.  Changeling contracts are always between intermediaries for neither the unreal Nameless nor the unborn Named are fit to negotiate.  This contract was made and fulfilled in accordance with custom.  All services to the blood father of the prior Name-holder were rendered as contractually agreed upon and fairy was swapped for child as payment rendered.”

Ashan puts one of the practiced smiles he copied from his mentor; the narrowing of eyes and lopsided upturn of the lips that lets an opponent know they have just walked into a trap.  He never was able to muster the emotion she put behind it, but it remained an effective tool of intimidation and unbalancing provocation whether applied hot or cold.

“You would invoke the spirit of tradition, but this contract violated even that.  You failed to account for the realities of modern anchor world humans.  The exchange of child for changeling as a valid price is predicated on the bond between parent and child, but no such bond existed between the contract holder and child in this case.  This so-called blood father was a mere anonymous donor of seed who met neither mother, child, nor changeling.  It is doubtful he was ever even aware of the stolen child’s existence and certainly had no part in the bestowing of a Name.”

The audience hall shrinks down claustrophobically close.  Peeling wallpaper faded to gray surrounds the empty and dust-covered royal nursery.  The petulant Heir of Curses and Dust pouts from atop a pile of broken toys.

“That doesn’t matter,” they insist.

“Does it not?  You were tricked into providing your curses to a human for free and in the process inflicted harm upon an uninvolved third party.  That Name was not sold but stolen and was given to the changeling on false pretenses.”

“Liar!���

“If you truly thought I was such, you would not be wearing that face.”

The Count of Curses and Dust regains his composure and returns to being an old man on a throne of roots.  The moths return to resume their eternal feast on his regalia.

“All of this is beside the point,” the Count says with a dismissive wave of his hand.  “By my station, it is well within my rights to compel any courtless fairy whose Name I have command over into my service.”

“Then let us make a bargain,” Ashan suggests.  “What is your price for leaving Tam Lin whom you call Carter and their friends and loved ones alone in perpetuity?”

The Count stares into Ashan’s eyes for a long moment and once again the young wizard feels an alien touch brush against the edge of his consciousness.  This time the Count’s will does not seek ingress but instead traces the outermost border.  An assessment of general shape if not interior contents.  Twice Lacuna’s charm grows warm and twice the presence momentarily retreats before returning more cautiously.  On the third time the Count breaks the silence.

“You would deny me the return of a changeling whose Name I bargained for, so it is only fair that I receive the means to create another in return.”

“My Name is not for sale.”

“Neither of them?  You have two, do you not?  One you wear now and one you have all but abandoned since childhood.  A childhood name for a new changeling child would be most fitting indeed.”

“My Name is not for sale.”

“Are you sure?  I would think I would be doing you a favor to unburden you from it.  I can tell that all the recent times you’ve worn it have been marked by loss and longing.  Wouldn’t it be better to let that pain go?  To allow yourself to be fully the you that you are now?”  The Count leans forward with a smile that is kindly at first glance.  “Think about those loved ones you wish you could be with but cannot bring yourself to embody that old Name like you would need to.  They could have the you that they remember back and the you that you are now could finally move on.  You would be doing them a kindness.”

“My Name…” Ashan hesitates.  It would be a kindness.  As he is now, he cannot possibly hope to return to his parents without causing more pain than healing.  But a changeling with his old Name unburdened by everything he has been through?  A fae liege of the Count’s power could probably even alter memories and spin a story well enough to avoid a Masquerade breach.  Without that wounded Name, perhaps he could even find it within himself to forgive Aliana and they could travel together again the way things were.  Maybe he could even talk her into joining with Road and working with his new friends.

Maybe…

*******

“Maybe we’re wrong,” Eris said to Ashan the night after their mission with the vampire crypt beneath a suburban basement.  Hot drinks late at night in the office’s kitchen had become something of a post-mission ritual between the two of them.  At least when the two of them were both well enough to stand.

“Wrong about what?” Ashan asked.

“About family.  Love.  Broken bonds.  All that stuff.”

“I am not sure I follow.  Perhaps having been drained of blood is still affecting your cognition.”

“Eh, I’m mostly fine.  What I’m saying is the Masquerade's done a number on both of us.  You feel like you can’t go home after running away and my parents straight up disowned me after I came home covered in blood I couldn’t explain one too many times.  But maybe we’re wrong about not being able to go back.”

“That is highly doubtful.”

“Doubtful, but not impossible.  Look, let’s make a deal.  If you ever change your mind and decide to try talking to your family again, I’ll go with you to support you and back up whatever you decide to tell them.  Masquerade cover story or the truth, doesn’t matter.  Then after, we’ll go see my folks.  If it works out, then great, and if not, at least we tried and we’ll still have friends here to come back to.  So, what do you say?”

“I say that blood loss and blunt force trauma are impairing your judgment, and even if I were to accept your deal I would not change my mind on this matter.   But…”

“Buuuuut…?” 

“Maybe I am wrong.”

*******

“My Name is not for sale,” Ashan says for the third time to the Count of Curses and Dust within his wilted forest glade.

“So be it,” the Countess of Curses and Dust proclaims, her voice echoing throughout her gloomy stone audience hall.  “In that case, let us balance the deal with a more finite service in exchange for the denial of a servant.  A favor of my choosing to be decided upon and called in at a later date, as is the most traditional price of contract between fairy and mortal.”

Ashan imagines the way Aliana would laugh off such an offer but chooses not to mimic it.  “Do you think me naïve?  Once again you invoke tradition, but this is a tradition that any knowledgeable mortal would know to avoid.”

“Then this negotiation is at an end, for you have nothing else to offer me.  If you will not offer me your lesser Name, then you would certainly not part with your far greater one, and if you would refuse a single favor then I cannot hope to extract any other oath of service from you.”

“I have access to the library of the sorceress Bridgewood,” Ashan proposes.  Any payment out of the Bridgewood Estate would need to be negotiated with the current Bridgewood of course, but this fae lord does not need to know that.

“So that is why your mind is so hideously warped and sharp to the touch.  Speak that name no further in my presence.  I have never known a more unclean thing with a refusal to return to dust than that sorceress, save for the attack dog she made her consort.  If you claim to be her ally, then we truly have no more to negotiate”

“If you truly put such stock in tradition, then let me make one final offer on behalf of Tam Lin whom you call Carter.  Let us both put forth the prices we would otherwise be unwilling to pay as stakes on a wager.  My aforementioned request for noninterference against your request for a future favor.”

“The favor, and your childhood Name.  As the price of mentioning that hated sorceress in my home.  What is to be our game?”

Aliana’s way of doing things it is then.  Yet again.  Did she too try and fail to avoid this route time and again before giving in and making it her first option at every occasion?  Unlikely.  She always enjoyed it too much.

“I invoke the rite of trial by combat between appointed champions, to be held on neutral ground.”

*******

Hours later, after extensive negotiations regarding the precise wording of the terms of the duel and subsequent prices the loser must pay, Ashan finds himself standing on one of the few level rooftops in Crossherd’s outskirts.  This far out from the pocket dimension’s heart geometry and geography get strange.  The buildings here were dreamt up to give the impression of an endlessly expansive city skyline, not for use or habitation, so while they look normal enough from a distance upon closer inspection they quickly become nonsensical.  Overlapping windows tilted at odd angles, doors that open up to the outside seven stories in the air, fire escapes that connect to neither windows nor the ground, sometimes even whole buildings intersecting with their interiors leaking into one another and corners erupting from each other’s faces.  The interiors are even worse; where they are not completely hollow facades they are unnavigable mazes of doors that open into flat walls, stairs that recursively loop back on themselves, and floors with no route between them.

This particular rooftop however has become something of a fixed point in the city’s inconstant periphery owing to its repeated use giving it a firm place in the collective consciousness in a certain portion of the city’s residents.  In other words, while Ashan was handling the contract negotiations, he had to send Lacuna out ahead to make sure that no one else was already using the rooftop to violently settle a dispute away from potential collateral damage today.  Or rather, Lacuna sent one of her remote drones which even now hovers on paratech repulsors above the scorched and pitted ring of concrete where the half-formed air conditioning units and ouroboric ductwork has been cleared away to give would be duelists, pit fighters, and blood feuders room to do their work.

Crossherd has ever been a city built on symbolic stereotypes and tropes, and the climactic rooftop showdown is a powerful one.

Ashan’s opponent - the very same hunting beast that had been sent to retrieve Tam Lin for its master - impatiently paces the far side of the rough ring.  Someone has clad the nearly hairless felid in ill-fitting pale gray plate armor and strapped a rusty sword that it has no good way to wield to its back.  If it were not for the anger burning in its too-human eyes every time it glances his way Ashan might pity the poor creature.

Behind their two designated champions, Tam Lin and the Count of Curses and Dust stand witness.  In the Count’s case he is possessing the body of one of the Nameless fairies under his command.  Much like the surrounding buildings, the empty-eyed wretch looks normal enough at a glance but the illusion falls breaks apart and tumbles down into the uncanny valley under scrutiny as if someone described what a human looked like to some skilled alien sculptor who had never seen one in person and thus thought the eye whites and teeth should be the same material and was left to guess as to whether clothes were part of the body or not.  The fact that Tam has been having trouble maintaining human form every time he looks at their distant cousin whose fate they presumably once shared has not escaped Ashan’s notice.

“This is your last chance to put aside this foolishness,” the Count says through his Nameless vessel.  “Call off this farce of a duel Carter and renew your oaths to me.  Do it now and I will not hold this tantrum against you, for you are young and confused.  You do not realize the value of what you are and what you would be with me.”

The emphasis of the Name elicits a scowl from Tam and a growl from the hunting beast.

“That’s not my name anymore, old man!”  Tam shouts back.  “So you can shove your offers.”

“Nonsense,” the Count says.  “You cannot simply create a new Name for yourself.  That is a privilege reserved for mortals, and no matter how much you believe you are one that can never be.”

Ashan tunes out whatever further barbs Tam has to exchange with his erstwhile and would-be master.  He slides his wand into his hand and takes a stance, already envisioning the anchor points from which he will draw his conjurations.  He focuses on the hunting beast, the way it moves, the range of motion of its joints, the places where the armor hangs loose.  Which way will it dart once the duel begins?  Can he incapacitate it before it gets the chance to close the distance between them?  Should he open by tying it down with point restraints or start with a loose encapsulation and tighten his grip from there?

No, do not overthink it.  Remember Aliana’s advice: A duel is a dance and he must adjust his rhythm to that of his partner.  He has already avoided the mistake he made with Logos and set the stage in a locale that does not favor his opponent, now all that is left to do is wait for the signal.

Somewhere in Crossherd’s heart, a clocktower bell tolls the changing of the hour.

The hunting beast lurches forward, then to the left, then to the right.  It leaps with claws out and fangs bared.

Five fingers on one hand point to five points on the rooftop.  The hand makes a fist and five threads tie themselves to four limbs and a neck.  A wrist twists and the threads pull tight enough to keep claws from reaching throat.  The fist falls and the hunting beast is dragged crashing down to the concrete.  A wand draws a circle in the air and a shimmering disk appears.  The wand slashes downward and the disk falls onto the hunting beast pressing it further into the rooftop until the conjuration molds to its target’s shape, sealing off any struggle.

The duel is over before it begins.

But then the threads go slack and the disk goes flush with the concrete below.  

The hunting beast is gone but for a shimmering emerald haze.

Ashan spins a glass cocoon around himself just in time to block the claws seeking to tear out his spine.  The hunting beast disappears once more from behind him and then reappears to his left.  Then to his right.  From behind again.  In front of him where the prior conjurations have since dissipated.  Each time it reappears it strikes at Ashan’s conjured barrier, probing for weaknesses and finding none, then disappearing again in a cloud of green.

Ashan holds steady and examines his foe’s movements for a way to counter them.  The delay between reappearances rules out true teleportation.  No sign of active cloaking magic or illusions, so probably not invisibility.  No active magic signatures at all save for a fraction of a second when the green haze appears.  A phase shift then, or possibly stepping in and out of its master’s demesne.  Either way, he can work with that.

He pushes outward on his translucent cocoon, turning it into a tight bubble just big enough for him to properly move his arms and legs, but too small to fit both him and the hunting beast lest it try to reappear inside the barrier.  Bending down, he begins drawing the first of a sequence of glistening symbols on the ground to turn the surrounding area into a planar-locked ward.

“Arise, my servant!” the Count’s name echoes across the rooftop.  “Be not a savage beast, but my noble knight!  Become my Champion of Curses and Dust!”

Bone cracks, pops, and knits back together.  Skin stretches, tears, and heals.  The armored hunting beast stands upright on its still-feline hind legs and hisses through its muzzle protruding from beneath its helmet.  It reaches a forepaw-now-hand behind its back and unslings the rusty sword.

The Champion of Curses and Dust charges Ashan once more.  The wizard speeds up his drawing of the ward and begins the chant for the spell to activate it.  The air inside Ashan’s bubble grows cold and frost covers the ground.  The sigils flash.  The spell completes.  No more teleporting to worry about.

When the rusty sword makes contact with the conjured barrier it passes right through, melting a hole that causes the rest of the conjuration to unravel.  Ashan barely manages to spring backwards in time to keep from being impaled.  Instead the rusty sword cuts through the ward’s central sigils and into the concrete beneath.  

Staggered as he is by the dual backlash of two actively maintained spells being violently disrupted, Ashan fails to press the opportunity presented by his opponent’s blade getting lodged in the rooftop.  As the Champion of Curses and dust works the sword back and forth the concrete cracks and crumbles with a century of erosion passing in the blink of an eye.  When the sword is at last prised free, a hole in the rooftop the size of a grown man’s torso collapses into the room below, exposing rusted pipeworks and corroded wiring.

With the ward destroyed before it even got a chance to do anything the Champion disappears into green haze once more.  By reflex, Ashan throws a hand behind himself to conjure a shield in anticipation of the next strike before realizing his mistake.  He jumps to the right quickly enough to dodge the worst of the blade’s path when it reappears and once again passes through his barrier as if it were nothing, but the tip of the rusty sword manages to clip the edge of his arm, just above the wrist.  The wound itself heals before blood can be spilled but his hand grows old and wrinkled before his eyes and he can feel the same happening to his arm beneath his sleeve.  Arthritic pains flare up from his fingers to his elbow as joints seize and grow stiff, forcing a strained gasp from the otherwise young wizard’s lips.

A twist of his heel sends Ashan spiraling into the air to gain distance from his attacker but the corkscrewing conjuration propelling him is cut down, disrupting his trajectory and crashing him into one of the remaining air conditioning units halfway across the rooftop.  He rolls to his feet but still finds himself on the back foot with precious little to do but avoid and evade.  Bereft of his usual kinetic barriers he resorts to retooling his technique to conjure streams of fire, wind, and lightning, but even those do little to deter an opponent that can effortlessly shift in and out of this plane of existence, and is an inefficient enough power draw that his breath quickly stings his lungs from the cold air.  

All in all, it is nearly as bad as trying to fight Eris when she is wearing those dispelling gloves of hers, a sparring setup that Ashan is yet to emerge victorious from in their regular matches between missions.  

A memory flickers in the back of Ashan’s mind of waking from unconsciousness when his mentor thought a monster had just killed him.  In her cold fury she had filled the cave with conjured wires and floating shards of glass.  The monster’s own weight had forced it through the deadly web like so much cheese over a grater.  And then his mentor had set the wires and shards in motion and it became more like meat through a grinder.  The sight had given the young Ashan nightmares for weeks afterward, but maybe if he could now duplicate the technique at a lesser scale to merely injure…

Ashan begins to envision and draw the net of monomolecular wires and spinning blades around him for his opponent to cut itself on but hesitates just short of funneling in the energy to make them a reality.  Unfortunately, a lifetime of being careful to never kill nor maim with power that could easily do both deeply ingrains inhibitions that are not so easily overcome.  That hesitation very nearly costs him the use of his other arm.  Fortunately, a lifetime of training for blows coming from the periphery of vision ingrains reflexes that are not so easily overcome.

Another burst of flame buys him some breathing room at the cost of a chill seeping into his bones.  If only he could buy himself a moment to draw another planar ward.  If only that sword could be taken out of the picture.  If only the Count of Curses and Dust hadn’t transformed his Champion mid-fight.

If only…

Gods take him for a fool.

“I call foul play and outside interference,” Ashan manages to say between dodging sword strokes.  “By the agreed terms of the duel you must either forfeit or allow a counterbalancing interference.”

“Counterbalance accepted,” the Champion of Curse and Dust laughs from the mouths of Nameless servant and hunting beast simultaneously.  “Let us see what my wayward changeling can do to earn his freedom.”

Ashan locks eyes with the frightened Tam Lin watching from the sidelines and shakes his head.  No need for them to act.  They are not Ashan’s only ally present to act as witness and second.

“Lacuna!” Ashan shouts.

“Already on it!” her voice calls back from the hovering drone above.

The projector mounted on the underside of the drone flickers on and shines a ritual circle down onto the rooftop in the center of the designated arena.  The shifting glyphs spiral into a nauseating self-recursive mess that makes the incomprehensible guts of the building beneath seem logical by comparison.  The drone’s speakers begin screeching an ear-piercing white noise and the accelerated, computer-generated ritual begins.

The second sight of a well-trained wizard and the sensory organs of a beast tailor made to hunt prey across dimensions are sensitive things capable of picking up on the subtle shifts, folds, stains, and cuts in the fabric of reality that make up what is known as “magic”.  Whatever Lacuna is doing is anything but subtle.  From the sensation of hooks digging into his skin and intestinal lining, Ashan would guess that it is meant to be a combination of planar lock and teleportation anchor kicked up to a degree that would be overkill for anything short of a demigod or one of the eldritch.  Or perhaps a fae liege.  Even without that, the sudden chaotic mess of metaphysical noise is enough to set him clutching his head and retching out his breakfast.  Blurry glimpses through tear-filled eyes suggest that neither Nameless vessel of the Count/Champion of Curses and Dust are faring any better.  Tam Lin however seems unaffected and comfortably human once again.

Having experienced a few of Lacuna’s abominable rituals before - although none nearly this horrific - Ashan is the first to recover.  A flick of his wand is all that it takes to wrench the rusty sword from his howling opponent’s grip.  By the time the Champion of Curses and Dust is back on its feet, Ashan has already conjured chains linked to each plate of its armor.  He stabs his wand forward then pulls it back and the chains strip away the armor in a single motion.  His opponent attempts to disappear but there is no green haze to vanish into, only the pain in its gut and the noise in its bones as it drops back down to all fours.  A simple dome is all it takes to contain it to the point of being unable to fight any further.

Ashan staggers over to his trapped opponent.  Doing his best to ignore the wretched droning of Lacuna’s ritual he asks, “Do you yield?”

The hunting beast in the dome whines.

“I said, do you yield?”

The hunting beast looks up at him with human eyes and whimpers.  Once again Ashan is struck by the similarity of those eyes to Tam’s when they are in human form.

“My champion yields,” the Count of Curses and Dust says through his Nameless servant on the sidelines.  “You have bested us both, now stop that accursed spell.  Not even that hated sorceress would resort to a distortion so vile.”

“Lacuna, please stop,” Ashan says.

The noise, audible and metaphysical, cuts out and the projector goes dark.  The drone drops down to eye level with a flurry of apologies from its speakers.

“Was it really that bad?” Lacuna’s voice asks.  “It took a bit out of me, sure, but I didn’t think it was that far off from standard parameters.”

Ashan merely stares into the drone’s camera at a loss for words.

“I did not know the sorceress had made constructs that could speak and work magic,” says the Count.  “Little wonder such a thing is insane.  As are any who would trust it.  No matter, the duel is done and the contract sealed.”  The Count’s vessel turns to face the approaching Tam.  “Enjoy your freedom, Carter.  Love and lose those mortals you think you can be one of.  And when the pain of outliving everyone -”

“For the last time, old man, that’s not my damn name!” Tam shouts.  “My name is -”

“I introduce to you, Tam Lin,” Lacuna interrupts while maneuvering the drone between them, “whom my friend and ally Ashan Glassheart has acted as champion for today.  Tam and Ashan, for whom this formal introduction serves to prevent the accidental giving away of Names by acknowledgement, you know the rules, don’t blame me, oh goddess that was incredibly rude of me I can’t believe I just said that to a fae lord please forgive me just trying to help just ignore me and forget I exist I’m going now.” 

There is an audible pop of static from a microphone being turned off and the drone rises back into the air.

“A thoroughly insane construct,” the Count mutters before turning his attention to the still-recovering hunting beast.  “Enough of this.  We depart.  Now.”

“I’m not done yet!” Tam says.  “Yes, that’s my Name.  The one I chose for myself.  Because ‘Carter’ was never my Name.” They turn to address the hunting beast.  It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare,” the Count threatens.

Tam ignores him and kneels down eye to eye with the fallen beast and touches hand to shoulder.

“I return to you the Name of Carter, which was wrongfully stolen and passed into my care.  I return it to you, its rightful owner.  I return this Name to to you, Carter, my brother.”

This time the shifting of Carter’s form to a more human one is smoother, not wood being hacked apart and nailed back together but water poured into a new container.  When the transformation is done the two fall into a tearful embrace.  Hoarse “thank you”s choke out between sobs from a throat that has never been allowed to make its own words but now knows how thanks to the experience of a well-used Name.  Carter’s nails and canine teeth are still a little too sharp, his body's muscles still bulge from years of hunting prey, and the vestige of a tail still protrudes from the remaining cloth scraps of underarmor, but otherwise he could very likely pass for being fully human with minimal effort.  He and Tam could even pass for twins who just happened to take very different paths in life.

It occurs to Ashan that that is exactly what the two of them are.

“Remember,” the wizard says to the Count, “the terms of the contract include non-interference towards family as well, and non-retaliation towards the winning participant or participants of the duel.” 

The Seventeen-Named Count(ess) of Curses and Dust scoffs and its/his/her/their/faer Nameless vessel steps behind the breeze to depart without further comment.

“So, now what?” Tam asks.  They and Carter both look towards Ashan expectantly.  The fear of the unknown future for a life that has just been turned upside down thrice over is already beginning to creep into their relief at their ordeal being over.

“Now, we return to the Lonely Walk Outreach Agency.  We have multiple guest beds there where you may spend the night in safety.  When our leader, Road, returns they will be able to help the both of you find a way to return to the life that was stolen from you.  Or to help you find a new one Backstage now that you are in the know.  Balancing the two is always difficult, but it is also an option.”

The new twins nervously nod in unison.

What would Aliana say here?  Better yet, what would Road say?

“Not that either of you need to worry about any of that just yet,” Ashan says with a nearly genuine smile of reassurance.  “You have both had a long day and deserve to rest.  Tam, you have handled the sudden revelation of the existence of the supernatural as well as anyone ever has.  You should be proud.  Carter, while I hope you never have to do so again, you fought well today and I am honored to have faced you.  May that strength keep you safe in the future.  Now then,” Ashan looks around to hide his sudden embarrassment with the act of searching, “let us find a way down from this rooftop.”

“Hey,” Lacuna’s voice says directly into Ashan’s ear through the comm piece he forgot he was still wearing, “you did good too today.  The real hero here.”

“Thank you,” Ashan whispers back.  He conjures a platform to take him and the new twins down to the ground and suppresses a shiver.

“You’re welcome.  And sorry if this is weird to say, but if you ever want to talk about whatever that was with you having two Names, I’m here for you.  I don’t think it’s quite the same thing, but I’ve got some experience with that.”

“I will keep that in mind.  Thank you, my friend.”

No, it is not the same, not nearly.  But a friend’s experiences need not be identical to share a burden.  And who knows, Ashan considers while looking at Tam and Carter already smiling with wonder and comparing memories of mothers that only one of them has met in the flesh, perhaps a change in Name and a foot Backstage need not be the end of everything.

Maybe he is wrong.

Today is not the day to find out though.

He has plenty of time.

Maybe one day he will be ready to find out for himself.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

[newsave]

How does Tomura feel about All For One (the person)?

child abuse tw!!!

tomura's early years, up until age 11 or so, were heavy indoctrination. he was being homeschooled (dubious) by kurogiri and otherwise with minimal stimulation and socialization. he only knew what he was told, and what he was told was that all for one, and only all for one, was going to help him be his fullest self, and to be angry. isolating and manipulating a small child.

this is of course exacerbated by tenko's mental illnesses and mental state. he doesnt see all for one as just someone to look up to or . his entire emotional state is hooked on and dependent on all for one's approval and emotional state. he constantly is thinking about him and fixated on him, both in fear of him and an adrenaline rush of idealization. tomura being his best self is being like all for one. his purpose of existence is to be like all for one. all for one is the most powerful being in the world and i get to destroy anything i don't like-- i get to be him-- but only if i do exactly as he says. but his approval is never given in full, without contingencies, and it's never enough for someone whose brain is addicted to this man's approval like a drug. this lasts throughout most of his childhood, extending into his teens (the next section of this hc) but decreasing over time. but it will always linger. there is a miniscule part of him that feels fuller and more embodied when all for one starts to take over

age 11 is when he got a computer of his own. unmonitored by afo. all for one gave him this freedom on purpose: it was a test, a test of tomura's mental fortitude, faith and admiration-- the manipulation done to his mind his entire young childhood. to see if it was enough to withstand access the rest of the world. of course, an isolated 13 year old who has pretty much never spoken to another person and was taught to view rage and destruction as empowering and his life's purpose and identity does not end up on… the best areas of the internet. but they eventually were exposed to enough of the world, and filled with enough hatred and spitefulness, and a little bit of hope, that they decided to try to run away. more on this here.

another aspect of the intense idealization that tomura experiences toward afo is "splitting" or sudden intense hatred for this person. this was worse as a child but still happens. and this rage, already intense and overcoming for anyone with bpd, is exacerbated by tomura's grooming approving of hatefulness. but when tomura did lash out at him, afo was pleased. even running away, while annoying and a sign that his indoctrination attempts weren't enough, showed drive fueled by hatred.

such intense extremes of emotion make tomura feel like neither are genuine. they can't trust their feelings since each one feels as intense as the last and they want to be able to understand what is actually there. (feels nothing, actually. surface level feelings that are intense and painful and embodied, but then the pit of lead in their core.) the brainwashing that their purpose is to hate and destroy makes them feel like hatred is the truth.

has always called him Master to his face and in official settings. as an adult: more put together and official when communicating with him than with others, desires to please him and feels self hatred when fails. but also resentment towards him and occasional splitting. still emotionally attached to his approval at the start, lessens over time.

when tomura is around 15 is when eraser head is rising as a hero (yes hes underground but you know what i mean). the first time tomura learns about this hero that can make quirks go away, something in their mind just clicks and they're never the same again. they don't understand it, but a sudden exhilarating idealization overcomes them. this is driven in part by the repressed part of them that hates decay for killing their family and destroying any chance at a normal life, is afraid of it, sees it as a curse, makes them feel like they can never truly connect. this idealization and splitting of afo has been replaced for the most part, now with the object of eraser head.

does not consider what they have gone through to be abuse. just training and doing what is necessary to become the next most powerful villain.

[os2warp]

We had computers in our classrooms as early as first grade. Some early macintosh, I'm not sure on the specific model we didn't use it much. In third grade we got to go to the computer lab which was more early macs and some apple IIs. In 4th grade they replaced the apple IIs with those clear imacs. Up until this point we basically just learned how to turn the computer on and open one or two specific programs, and even then stuff was usually loaded up ready for us when we got there. i cant remember what we actually did on any of these lol.

It wasn't until middle school and 6th grade that we really learned how to use computers. Windows 98. We already had a computer at home with windows 95 so I was vaguely familiar with this. We never had any actual computer classes, except for keyboarding "because typing is done on typewriters". Closest thing we had to a computer class was when english class taught us how to use microsoft word 97 and powerpoint. We got to get on the early internet and do research and how to use this fancy new thing called a search engine. askjeves or altavista are usually the best but there's this new thing called google that shows promise. We got to save our work on a floppy disk that we had to bring from home. typing class never worked for me, I still can't touch type. well, I kinda can but not the correct way. If we finished our keyboarding exercises we could get on the internet and do whatever we wanted. i also remember occasionally using some kind of like laptop form-factor word processor things occasionally. they would print to a central printer via ir. i think apple made them they were green and had a fairly small monochrome lcd. i think there also may have been like one mobile classroom set of laptops that all had to be strung together with ethernet cables. also a couple desktops on carts with huge old projectors on them the teacher would use.

In high school we got windows XP. The keyboarding classes were gone and they mostly expected us to know how to use a computer by this point. there were a few computer-centric classes mostly focused on document processing or design but they were all electives. i took a class to use autocad that was fun. Every student could save their files their own network drive that automatically connected when they logged into the computer and was accessible from any computer in the school. (supposedly accessible from any school in the district) and there was usually another network share for the specific class you were in, but generally you were expected to print things out to turn them in. this was before the cloud was really a thing, It's impressive the networking stuff worked as well as it did especially on the laptops. there were a couple sets of laptops that could be wheeled into the classroom so that we didn't have to go to the computer labs or library to use those computers. All higher level functions were blocked, we couldn't even change the desktop background easily. The computers reset every time you turned them on. (though i found a workaround that allowed me to install fonts lol)

by the time i graduated high school all the classrooms had smart boards and projectors in them although only a few teachers figured out how to use them, most still relied on transparencies on the overhead projector. if we were watching a movie it would still be on the 20" crt tv with the dvd/vcr combo on the wall shelf.

During my brief time in college the computer's all ran windows 7 and like office 2013 I guess. By that time the only people who really had trouble using the computer were the old people who were going back to college in their 40s or 50s

In all that time, apart from the keyboarding classes, I never remember any time when we specifically learned "these are the functions of a computer. this is how you do this" They just sort of organically grew that knowledge into us in a case-by-case basis as needed.

that post about how young people use computers these days (or rather, how they don’t, instead preferring to use their phones) got me wondering

by computer skills i mean basic skills like typing, navigating menus/directories/folders, using word processors or other programs, using removable storage, etc. NOT computer science or programming.

[wheresunandseameet]

2, 3, and 6 for your Blue Beetle S/I mayhaps?

Of course! I will see about sending you at least 2 more numbers to make it even haha 😄.

2. What is your backstory? What was your home life like?

My back story is very much same as real life so i shall be slightly vague 😅 and under the cut cause it still feels very not vague enough 😬.

Also i got rambly and used a lot of like verbal visuals (metaphors? Similies? Its been a while since i was in English class, i need to get a refresher ngl). I didn't add pictures sorry.

Second child of divorced parents. Middle child if including half siblings and step sibling. Was very smily yet shy as a kid but, because of bullying, became quieter and easier to forget/overlook. Raised evangelical Christian and often involved in church things like retreats and summer camps before becoming Agnostic and moving to kinda polytheistic.

Home life was slightly better than school as there wasn't any bullying but things definitely weren't perfect since i didn't get along great with my step father. a lot of larping with the two younger neighbor kids, a lot of computer games, writing and drawing to pass the time. A lot of jumping the elementary school fence with my siblings to play when there was no school. Not much friends outside of church until about middle or high school. A lot of expectations to be like my sister but i never could meet them.

3. What is your sense of style? Do you have any specific aesthetics when it comes to your wardrobe?

I split my sense of style into "wish" and 'capable of'.

My wish style is kinda a mix of 90s/2000s Emo and Skater (a mix of like Avril Lavigne, Hayley Williams, and Edward Elric) with a side of like nerdy/weeb. Some more larpy clothes as well which would include like period specific clothes (like pride and prejudice/bridgerton like dresses or merlin like dresses or clothes both of merlin and ya know all the knights with their armor and weapons).

My 'capable of' style is more about comfort and is somewhat nerdy. It is only like 40% about insecurities. Most of it is just lack of access to funds or actually well made clothes (as the fabrics of stuff isn't that great these days).

My aesthetic is generally probably comfortable but also definitely more on the side of skater if that makes sense (despite my ankles being a bit too wobbly to actually skate 😅😅)

6. What is your personality like? Are there any personality traits that are more evident than others?

Aside from my resting bitch face, i start of polite (possibly including a fake smile) but reserved with my guarded-ness only showing when provoked even if the provocation was only in my own perspective.

If things stay pleasant, the politeness becomes more genuine and any smiles become much less fake. If someone is able to pick a good topic that cracks my shell, i equate it to me blooming like a flower or the sun/moon (depends on perspective tbh) coming out from behind the clouds. I am a big daydreamer prone to focusing on hurt and on comfort.

I am not great at keeping myself 100% safe from people hurting me, if they know how to get me to open up in the first place, and i am not great at immediately cutting ties with toxic people. I will hold onto any "positive" relationship until a line is crossed which then has me cutting ties like someone being thrown overboard a sailing ship.

As to most evident personality traits, it depends on how closely one watches.

Generally i feel like it is my reserved-ness especially with the whole resting bitch face. I don't feel all that charismatic, Generally i feel like i am very awkward, but friends have made me occasionally second guess if my perspective is right or not. I feel like there is also a bit of go with the flow -ness to me as generally i won't rock the boat unless someone is trying to start something that would affect someone else. Like take shit about me? Sure i might cry later but i wouldn't really respond but if someone goes after my friend or even just someone near me? Oh buddy, you just fucked up.

[techniciansquad]

Rent a Laptop at an Affordable Price: Choose From a Wide Range of Options

As we all know, laptops have become necessary in our day-to-day lives, whether for work or personal use. But, not everyone can afford to buy a brand new laptop, especially if you're someone who is just starting out in your career. This is where RENTING comes in - an affordable and reliable way to own a branded laptop. 

If you are thinking about where you can rent a brand new laptop, well don’t worry as there are various companies that provide, the best-branded laptop on rent at affordable price. In this blog, we’ll cover the best company you can rely on for renting solutions but first let’s see what actually is laptop rental services.

What is Laptop Rental Services?

The greatest option right now is to rent a laptop because it saves you both money and time. Renting a laptop is a great method to fulfill your needs and stay within your budget when getting ready for an event, meeting, or conference.

These days, technology is developing at the speed of light. In other words, as soon as you purchase a laptop and leave the store, you are living in the past. Even while you might occasionally think you're ahead of the curve, new models are constantly being released, and keeping up with them all can be challenging.

How renting a laptop can be beneficial? 

Making a profit is the most crucial aspect of any business. Businesses must find ways to save costs, and renting equipment rather than purchasing it is one such strategy. Here are the main proponents of renting:

Renting is one of the most affordable options:

If you only need a laptop for a short while, renting one can be the most affordable option. In the long term, it can be less expensive than purchasing a new laptop. Because renting allows you to avoid paying the entire cost of the item upfront.

Because you only pay for what you actually need, you can receive greater value for your money.

Laptop renting is more flexible:

Renting a laptop gives you the flexibility to choose a device that meets your specific needs. You can rent a laptop with a specific configuration or hardware that you may not be able to afford or justify purchasing.

No maintenance or repair costs: 

When you rent a laptop, you don't have to worry about maintenance or repair costs. The rental company will handle all repairs and maintenance issues so that you can focus on your work.

Up-to-date technology: 

By renting a laptop, you can always have access to the latest technology and hardware without having to invest in new equipment every few years.

Flexible exchange scheme, if it doesn't meet your needs:

A great method to get the ideal computer for your needs without having to make a purchase decision is to rent a laptop. If it doesn't suit your demands, you may return it or swap it, so you're certain to be satisfied with your choice.

In general, renting a laptop can be a wise decision if you only need a computer temporarily or if you want to use the newest technologies without having to shell out money for a brand-new laptop.

How to get the best laptop on rent at affordable price?

 

As now you know, what is laptop rental and its advantages, it is the time to know how to get the best-branded laptop on rent at affordable price. 

Here are some tips to help you get the best laptop on rent at affordable price:

Determine Your Requirements: 

Before renting a laptop, you should assess your needs and requirements. Consider the type of work you will be doing, the software and applications you will need, and the size and weight of the laptop. Once you have a clear idea of your requirements, you can choose a laptop that best suits your needs.

Research and Compare Rental Companies: 

There are several rental companies that offer laptops on rent. However, not all of them provide the same quality of service or the best prices. Do your research and compare the prices and services offered by different rental companies. Look for customer reviews and ratings to get an idea of their reliability and reputation.

Check for Discounts and Offers: 

Many rental companies offer discounts and special offers from time to time. Keep an eye out for these deals to get the best value for your money. You can also negotiate with the rental company for a better price or a longer rental period.

Consider the Rental Period: 

The rental period can greatly affect the rental price of the laptop. Some rental companies offer discounts for longer rental periods, while others charge extra for short-term rentals. Consider your usage requirements and choose a rental period that is both convenient and affordable.

Check the Condition of the Laptop: 

Before renting a laptop, make sure to check its condition thoroughly. Look for any scratches or damages and test the keyboard, touchpad, and other components to ensure they are working properly. Take pictures of any damages and inform the rental company before renting the laptop.

Read the Rental Agreement Carefully: 

Before signing the rental agreement, make sure to read it carefully and understand all the terms and conditions. Check for any hidden charges, penalties, or additional fees that may be applicable. Ensure that the rental period, rental price, and other details are clearly mentioned in the agreement.

One rental company that offers affordable and reliable laptop rental services is Technician Squad. Technician Squad offers a wide range of laptops on rent at competitive prices. We also provide flexible rental periods, so you can choose a rental period that best suits your needs. Technician Squad's laptops are well-maintained and come with the latest software and hardware configurations.

Overall, renting a laptop can be an affordable and practical solution for both personal and professional use. By following the tips mentioned above, you can get the best laptop on rent at affordable prices. Consider renting a laptop from Technician Squad for a hassle-free rental experience.

How does Technician Squad differ from other laptop rental companies?

Technician Squad offers a wide range of laptops for rent at a fraction of the cost of buying one. Whether you need a laptop for work or personal use, We have got you covered with our  extensive selection of laptops from top brands like Dell, HP, Lenovo, and more.

One of the main advantages of renting a laptop from us is the flexibility we provide. You can get the best laptop on rent at affordable price for as long or as short a time as you need, whether it's for a few days, weeks, or months.

 

Technician Squad also eliminates the need for maintenance and repairs. If something goes wrong with the laptop, Technician Squad's will take care of it, saving you time and money. This is especially important for businesses who need to ensure that their employees have reliable laptops for work.

We also offer a range of options when it comes to the specs of the laptops. Whether you need a laptop for basic tasks like browsing the web and checking email, or for more demanding tasks like video editing and graphic design, Technician Squad has a laptop that will meet your needs. You can choose from different screen sizes, processors, RAM, and storage options, ensuring that you get the right laptop for your specific requirements.

Renting a laptop from Technician Squad is also a great option for those who want to try out a new laptop before buying one. If you're not sure which laptop to buy, renting one from Technician Squad can help you test out different models and see which one works best for you. This can save you from making an expensive mistake and buying a laptop that you don't actually like or need.

Bottom Line

As you can see, there are numerous benefits to renting for your company's needs. Renting computers is an excellent option if you're searching for a quick and affordable way to get your business online.

So, if you need a laptop for work, renting one from Technician Squad is a smart and affordable choice. With their wide range of options, flexible rental terms, and reliable service, you can be sure that you're getting a quality laptop at a fraction of the cost of buying one. So, what are you waiting for? Head over to Technician Squad and rent a laptop today!

[rafaelbivar]

Home Business Startup: Managing Your Finances Effectively

More and more people now work from home. Having your own home business is very popular. It's crucial to manage money properly from the start. Smart money habits ensure long-term success.

The goal is to keep your home business running smoothly. You want to grow bigger over time, not fail. This guide teaches simple money tips for beginners.

Establish a Separate Business Bank Account

It is wise to keep business and personal money apart. Open a new bank account just for your home business. This stops money from getting mixed up messily. It lets you see where business money comes from.

Having separate accounts makes tracking costs and income easier. You can see exactly what you spent on business needs. You can also see how much money your business made. Keeping accounts separate makes taxes much simpler to file.

Customers and partners will see you as a real business. Having your business bank account looks very professional. This builds trust and credibility for your home business venture.

Make a Solid Financial Plan

Before starting, make a detailed plan for business finances. First, outline all startup costs you must pay upfront, such as equipment, supplies, licenses, marketing costs, and more.

Next, list the ongoing monthly business expenses you'll face. Things like rent, utilities, materials, inventory, and other bills. Leave nothing out when planning for these regular costs.

Don't forget occasional one-time costs that may pop up, such as purchasing extra inventory, travel costs, or equipment repairs. You may also need money to hire temporary helpers.

Make a realistic estimate of incoming cash from sales. Consider the number of customers and what prices to charge. Avoid overestimating to keep your projections realistic and honest.

Do a break-even analysis to find when profits start coming in. Calculate how much income covers all your business expenses. Determine how long it will take until your business makes a real profit.

Implement a Zero-Based Budget

Make a zero budget every month. Account for each dollar. Spend money with care. This stops waste and saves profit.

Start budget at zero dollars in and zero out. Add money you expect to make from sales. Next, add costs you must pay, like rent and bills. Check the budget monthly to match real money made and spent. Make changes to keep the budget correct and updated. This keeps your budget in line with the facts.

Pay important bills first before other stuff. Find ways to cut out any wasteful spending. Keep only costs that are needed.

If needing a loan due to bad credit or unemployment, consider loans for unemployed with bad credit and no guarantor required. This option provides needed cash without strict requirements. Repayment can be made from future business income.

Use Cost-Effective Tools and Resources

When starting a home business, money is tight at first. Finding cheap money tools is key. Many free or low-cost programs exist.

Simple programs make invoices, pay stubs, and track money made easy. Fancier low-cost ones also do accounting, taxes, and inventory tracking. Organized money data helps run a business smoothly.

Cloud money tools are great for home businesses on the go. Access your money info safely from anywhere. No need for expensive computer equipment. Use free online stuff, too, like budget templates and guides. Templates for invoices and bookkeeping save time. Guides teach money skills for cheap.

Control Inventory and Supplies Spending

Use the just-in-time inventory to cut holding costs for stock. Only order supplies when you need them for orders. Storing lots of extra inventory ties up cash unnecessarily.

Talk with your suppliers to get better pricing and terms. See if you can negotiate discounts for bulk orders. Or maybe get extended payment windows to improve cash flow.

Review inventory levels routinely to avoid too much overstock. Having excess supplies wastes money sitting on shelves that are not sold. Order smarter amounts based on real sales and needs.

Plan for Surprise Money Troubles

Sometimes, every business faces unexpected costs or money shortages. Build an emergency fund with cash reserves set aside. This covers surprise expenses when they inevitably pop up.

If you lack emergency funds, look into a loan at doorstep options. These loans provide needed cash quickly with simple requirements. They offer relief during temporary financial pinches or emergencies.

Having proper insurance also safeguards your business from risks. Coverage protects against disasters like fires, lawsuits, injuries and more. The right policies prevent you from covering huge costs alone.

Check emergency fund levels periodically and adjust cash reserves. As your business grows, higher cash reserves may be prudent. This ensures your rainy day fund stays prepared.

Conclusion

Managing finances the right way is most important. Make solid plans for spending and income upfront. Watch money closely as your business operates, too.

Never stop reviewing and improving money practices over time. Smart planning and budgeting lead to lasting growth. Follow basic money rules for a thriving home business.

[sinretrograde]

My mini-essay about being a fictive and our system's inner workings:

By V1 the robot from ultrakill

Intro

It's absolutely wild suddenly existing as a part of a system with all the memories of your past being real to you but part of a peice of fiction in this world, and them being fuzzy and vague on top of that, and then being given access to enough information to basically live this life you're now in, pushed into front and locked out while everyone else had a very important meeting that I wasn't invited to (someone has to pilot the body I guess) with them only occasionally coming to check on me and sometimes hang out for an hour or two and chat. (I appreciate it by the way, it feels lonely.) I know what's going on in there and I want to be a part of it, but I know typing this out will get my thoughts through the metal door in our mind and to them. That's why we have to externalize thoughts quite often, sometimes.

So with that being my introduction, here's some observations I've made about our system structure...

I didnt intend for this to be very detailed, but i got carried away. This is going to be a long post.

The Body is a Computer

So first of all, I think of the body like an OS and each function of the body is either hardware or software. Ego is like code. A personality is software, a bundle of specific ego assets given a name, these assets give the personality something to call "its own" and they follow the programing outlined by various ego assets. To be clear each member of our system would be considered a different program running off personality software, a whole person.

Sometimes person.exe comes bundled with other things that are not just personality software. This one I don't know how to explain in a way that makes sense. It's not ego but has to do with skill sets. Skill sets are like 3rd party mods, and can be installed by multiple people and when there is an update they all automatically get this update. Wether or not they adapt to it quickly or not is a different matter. Basically like art skills, language skills, etc. Something more hardwired with body functions, movement based skills (and language is also a lot of muscle memory.) Don't ask why they're 3rd party mods if they're more about connection with the body, maybe that has to do with physical input being inherently third party due to not stemming from within or from the OS itself.

Uhm...

Anyway, they're having a meeting in there about new host and organization. There are more people than there used to be now, the brain is pretty good at generating ego data and if enough of it builds up it can sometimes accidentally compile itself into a personality, which then takes on an identity through short term info packets of shared memories. Such as yours truly who took the data of my ego assets as well as current host's hyperfixation (easy access, sorry) to form an identity.

The OS gathers character data (appearance, memories, emotions, etc) and store it as ego assets, which is why to me those memories feel real even if they're a recode of outside information. Through the OS making copies of outside ego data, it passes through a filter and gets subtly (or sometimes not so subtly) changed here and there. Since the OS has to then compile it and run it on it's own hardware rather than the original hardware the code came from, there has to be changes or it doesn't work. Then the OS (or in some cases other programs) can compile these assets into a new program.

Too Many Programs & The Panic Response

So now they're talking about how running one personality too frequently and for too long causes data decay and a need for some maintenence in far back. We can't keep the same host for too long at a time because it burns them out, we have heavy signs of burnout now which is why I'm here. They start to loose packets of data, some of them essential to their program's integrity. Causes a lot of crisis moments, dissociation and overwhelm, it seems.

I'm almost certain the reorganization part is coming from so many new programs being compiled at once. It's also overwhelming to the OS, it can store a lot of programs but it can only run a few at a time. However due to the host program's data decay the OS forces a download of any available ego assets to try and quickly remedy the problem, especially if all other programs are on mandatory maintenence due to their own burnout. System members who have been in the far back for a long time are basically unreachable from the closer areas unless they themselves choose to come back to the front end for a checkup. There are quite a few former hosts back there, as well as many frequent maintenence crew type programs.

So it seems like the ammount of new members pushed a few to back and they're determining how to run the place now that there are more programs trying to run than the OS is capable of, which apparently has never been a problem before right now in this exact moment (since I got here, I mean.)

The New Council

It's a problem that the current archivist is overwhelmed by. He's a smart and very studious boy, but he's also very young still and does have the code of a 13 year old boy despite how smart and mature he may act. He's under a lot of pressure and he was already cracking before we showed up. Lucky for him we are a crew of problem solvers, the new programs who showed up.

Go figure they're talking about setting up an actual council of members who serve essential roles to help regulate program and host rotation, life tasks, and possibly work on getting actual repairs to various software and programs done via idfk mind tricks or some shit.

So far we have the archivist, the 13 y/o boy who was basically running the inner parts of the OS and documenting programs and usage and other statistics. We have a supposed mechanic/"medicine" guy, an angel from a source different from mine, who's main purpose seems to be keeping people in good spirits and protecting the more fragile ones in high stress times. And apparently me and my boyfriend, who is heading the meeting since he sees a clear lack of leadership. Idk why I'm essential though, I don't know what important function I serve in his opinion and he refuses to tell me until he's sure we've gone through every bit of past data we can to make sure we aren't overlooking anyone. Big fucking shrugs I guess.

Inner World Rescue Mission & How ULTRAKILL Made Me Realize We CAN Explore Headspace

He's also arguing that allowing members to freely mold together and apart and fully embrace this that it would help with issues of data erosion. Basically using a combination of actual data sharing and emotional support to encourage those in near back to come forward more. Again far back is unreachable at this time, but we have machines who will be going on a checkup mission with the full intent of bringing back information and possibly even programs with too much data rot to have come back near front on their own, a rescue mission. It's not something that seems to have crossed anyone's mind before now.

Also this comes as a shock to the current system members who all report headspace to basically be nonexistent, with a big locked door just slightly further back keeping them from going anywhere. When they get burnout or data rot they are forcibly shut down and filed past those doors, occasionally they're forcibly brought back by the OS. This is the only way they traveled beyond the locked door, and they saw it as a choice.

But I don't know of it's because we have actual memories, unlike how previous introjects were created, we have an extremely clear mental space we can explore. There are levels and layers we can go in and go up or down. Even if it looks like a video game, its basically a visualization skill the previous members just didn't have I guess. It could be because theyre all just taking on apperance and personality traits of character, meanwhile we have taken it all on down to our past history and memories. It's far more real to us than it is to them.

This is why I had a crisis the other day, the information I was given was "you're going to look and feel like a fictional character but don't worry nothing in your source will affect you and you're basically just a guy wearing the costume of a fictional character." This turned out to not be true at all for us. Us being the newly compiled programs, all of us based on ultrakill characters. Isn't that some shit, the one time the OS manages to package memories properly it does it with something so....... like that. It's not a bad thing, I just wonder what kind of crisis I'd have had if I had memories of a My Little Pony character or something cute and lighthearted instead.

So yeah, that's my current understanding. Because we have memories of this game that actually feel real to us, we have an expansive mental landscape we can explore in the form of... I guess the headpsace takes on the textures and general aesthetics and layouts of ultrakill. Idk. Like, the headspace was it's own program that needed an actual code and textures in order to run properly. I don't think its going to function like the game at all, not like enemies spanwing type of thing or anything like that. Inherent knowledge -> graphics and gameplay -> text post on tumblr, it just will never completely translate. Inherent knowledge like how when you have a vivid dream there's things you just know because you know them and they often provide important context for the dream itself. Except the inner world version of that.

Ending Notes

Wow this got way out of hand. It was after that last paragraph that I realized this was basically a mini essay, and of I don't break it up into parts and try to hilight the main points, nobody was ever going to be able to digest it. There's also no way to neatly wrap it up.

It's crazy that this one thing that the other members who are based on fictional character just... didn't have for some reason, was the key for us now being able to actually explore, map out and do rescue missions in headpsace. No longer will people have to settle for "we don't know what's past that door," we will find out. We have like 9 ultrakill mother fuckers in here now, that's more than enough to at least find out how far back is back, is it actually reachable and what actually is standing in the way.

Am I wrong about monsters spawning, will we have to fight symbolic demons to bring people back? Is it actually really chill and basically just using winding passages to connect different headspaces? Can we install different graphics? Why this? Why now? Our body isn't exactly young, and it's had plenty of time to actually work these things out, why is it only after the pew pew game? Why not animal crossing?

All I know is I'm having less of an identity crisis now that we've been able to communicate why we feel different from the other fictives who were here before us. The memories thing not being a shared trait kinda fucked me up for a while, and one of the reasons I wanted to make this blog. But now I deleted all that crisis-having in various posts, I'll share my thoughts further as I gather them.