#operation sky fire event

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antitrust is a labor issue

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This is huge: yesterday, the FTC finalized a rule banning noncompete agreements for every American worker. That means that the person working the register at a Wendy's can switch to the fry-trap at McD's for an extra $0.25/hour, without their boss suing them:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-announces-rule-banning-noncompetes

The median worker laboring under a noncompete is a fast-food worker making close to minimum wage. You know who doesn't have to worry about noncompetes? High tech workers in Silicon Valley, because California already banned noncompetes, as did Colorado, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington.

The fact that the country's largest economies, encompassing the most "knowledge-intensive" industries, could operate without shitty bosses being able to shackle their best workers to their stupid workplaces for years after those workers told them to shove it shows you what a goddamned lie noncompetes are based on. The idea that companies can't raise capital or thrive if their know-how can walk out the door, secreted away in the skulls of their ungrateful workers, is bullshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Remember when OpenAI's board briefly fired founder Sam Altman and Microsoft offered to hire him and 700 of his techies? If "noncompetes block investments" was true, you'd think they'd have a hard time raising money, but no, they're still pulling in billions in investor capital (primarily from Microsoft itself!). This is likewise true of Anthropic, the company's major rival, which was founded by (wait for it), two former OpenAI employees.

Indeed, Silicon Valley couldn't have come into existence without California's ban on noncompetes – the first silicon company, Shockley Semiconductors, was founded by a malignant, delusional eugenicist who also couldn't manage a lemonade stand. His eight most senior employees (the "Traitorous Eight") quit his shitty company to found Fairchild Semiconductor, a rather successful chip shop – but not nearly so successful as the company that two of Fairchild's top employees founded after they quit: Intel:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/the-traitorous-eight-and-the-battle-of-germanium-valley/

Likewise a lie: the tale that noncompetes raise wages. This theory – beloved of people whose skulls are so filled with Efficient Market Hypothesis Brain-Worms that they've got worms dangling out of their nostrils and eye-sockets – holds that the right to sign a noncompete is an asset that workers can trade to their employers in exchange for better pay. This is absolutely true, provided you ignore reality.

Remember: the median noncompete-bound worker is a fast food employee making near minimum wage. The major application of noncompetes is preventing that worker from getting a raise from a rival fast-food franchisee. Those workers are losing wages due to noncompetes. Meanwhile, the highest paid workers in the country are all clustered in a a couple of cities in northern California, pulling down sky-high salaries in a state where noncompetes have been illegal since the gold rush.

If a capitalist wants to retain their workers, they can compete. Offer your workers get better treatment and better wages. That's how capitalism's alchemy is supposed to work: competition transmogrifies the base metal of a capitalist's greed into the noble gold of public benefit by making success contingent on offering better products to your customers than your rivals – and better jobs to your workers than those rivals are willing to pay. However, capitalists hate capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Capitalists hate capitalism so much that they're suing the FTC, in MAGA's beloved Fifth Circuit, before a Trump-appointed judge. The case was brought by Trump's financial advisors, Ryan LLC, who are using it to drum up business from corporations that hate Biden's new taxes on the wealthy and stepped up IRS enforcement on rich tax-cheats.

Will they win? It's hard to say. Despite what you may have heard, the case against the FTC order is very weak, as Matt Stoller explains here:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/ftc-enrages-corporate-america-by

The FTC's statutory authority to block noncompetes comes from Section 5 of the FTC Act, which bans "unfair methods of competition" (hard to imagine a less fair method than indenturing your workers). Section 6(g) of the Act lets the FTC make rules to enforce Section 5's ban on unfairness. Both are good law – 6(g) has been used many times (26 times in the five years from 1968-73 alone!).

The DC Circuit court upheld the FTC's right to "promulgate rules defining the meaning of the statutory standards of the illegality the Commission is empowered to prevent" in 1973, and in 1974, Congress changed the FTC Act, but left this rulemaking power intact.

The lawyer suing the FTC – Anton Scalia's larvum, a pismire named Eugene Scalia – has some wild theories as to why none of this matters. He says that because the law hasn't been enforced since the ancient days of the (checks notes) 1970s, it no longer applies. He says that the mountain of precedent supporting the FTC's authority "hasn't aged well." He says that other antitrust statutes don't work the same as the FTC Act. Finally, he says that this rule is a big economic move and that it should be up to Congress to make it.

Stoller makes short work of these arguments. The thing that tells you whether a law is good is its text and precedent, "not whether a lawyer thinks a precedent is old and bad." Likewise, the fact that other antitrust laws is irrelevant "because, well, they are other antitrust laws, not this antitrust law." And as to whether this is Congress's job because it's economically significant, "so what?" Congress gave the FTC this power.

Now, none of this matters if the Supreme Court strikes down the rule, and what's more, if they do, they might also neuter the FTC's rulemaking power in the bargain. But again: so what? How is it better for the FTC to do nothing, and preserve a power that it never uses, than it is for the Commission to free the 35-40 million American workers whose bosses get to use the US court system to force them to do a job they hate?

The FTC's rule doesn't just ban noncompetes – it also bans TRAPs ("training repayment agreement provisions"), which require employees to pay their bosses thousands of dollars if they quit, get laid off, or are fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

The FTC's job is to protect Americans from businesses that cheat. This is them, doing their job. If the Supreme Court strikes this down, it further delegitimizes the court, and spells out exactly who the GOP works for.

This is part of the long history of antitrust and labor. From its earliest days, antitrust law was "aimed at dollars, not men" – in other words, antitrust law was always designed to smash corporate power in order to protect workers. But over and over again, the courts refused to believe that Congress truly wanted American workers to get legal protection from the wealthy predators who had fastened their mouth-parts on those workers' throats. So over and over – and over and over – Congress passed new antitrust laws that clarified the purpose of antitrust, using words so small that even federal judges could understand them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

After decades of comatose inaction, Biden's FTC has restored its role as a protector of labor, explicitly tackling competition through a worker protection lens. This week, the Commission blocked the merger of Capri Holdings and Tapestry Inc, a pair of giant conglomerates that have, between them, bought up nearly every "affordable luxury" brand (Versace, Jimmy Choo, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Coach, Stuart Weitzman, etc).

You may not care about "affordable luxury" handbags, but you should care about the basis on which the FTC blocked this merger. As David Dayen explains for The American Prospect: 33,000 workers employed by these two companies would lose the wage-competition that drives them to pay skilled sales-clerks more to cross the mall floor and switch stores:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-24-challenge-fashion-merger-new-antitrust-philosophy/

In other words, the FTC is blocking a $8.5b merger that would turn an oligopoly into a monopoly explicitly to protect workers from the power of bosses to suppress their wages. What's more, the vote was unanimous, include the Commission's freshly appointed (and frankly, pretty terrible) Republican commissioners:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-moves-block-tapestrys-acquisition-capri

A lot of people are (understandably) worried that if Biden doesn't survive the coming election that the raft of excellent rules enacted by his agencies will die along with his presidency. Here we have evidence that the Biden administration's anti-corporate agenda has become institutionalized, acquiring a bipartisan durability.

And while there hasn't been a lot of press about that anti-corporate agenda, it's pretty goddamned huge. Back in 2021, Tim Wu (then working in the White wrote an executive order on competition that identified 72 actions the agencies could take to blunt the power of corporations to harm everyday Americans:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Biden's agency heads took that plan and ran with it, demonstrating the revolutionary power of technical administrative competence and proving that being good at your job is praxis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

In just the past week, there's been a storm of astoundingly good new rules finalized by the agencies:

A minimum staffing ratio for nursing homes;

The founding of the American Climate Corps;

A guarantee of overtime benefits;

A ban on financial advisors cheating retirement savers;

Medical privacy rules that protect out-of-state abortions;

A ban on junk fees in mortgage servicing;

Conservation for 13m Arctic acres in Alaska;

Classifying "forever chemicals" as hazardous substances;

A requirement for federal agencies to buy sustainable products;

Closing the gun-show loophole.

That's just a partial list, and it's only Thursday.

Why the rush? As Gerard Edic writes for The American Prospect, finalizing these rules now protects them from the Congressional Review Act, a gimmick created by Newt Gingrich in 1996 that lets the next Senate wipe out administrative rules created in the months before a federal election:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-23-biden-administration-regulations-congressional-review-act/

In other words, this is more dazzling administrative competence from the technically brilliant agencies that have labored quietly and effectively since 2020. Even laggards like Pete Buttigieg have gotten in on the act, despite a very poor showing in the early years of the Biden administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

Despite those unpromising beginnings, the DOT has gotten onboard the trains it regulates, and passed a great rule that forces airlines to refund your money if they charge you for services they don't deliver:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/24/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-announces-rules-to-deliver-automatic-refunds-and-protect-consumers-from-surprise-junk-fees-in-air-travel/

The rule also bans junk fees and forces airlines to compensate you for late flights, finally giving American travelers the same rights their European cousins have enjoyed for two decades.

It's the latest in a string of muscular actions taken by the DOT, a period that coincides with the transfer of Jen Howard from her role as chief of staff to FTC chair Lina Khan to a new gig as the DOT's chief of competition enforcement:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-25-transportation-departments-new-path/

Under Howard's stewardship, the DOT blocked the merger of Spirit and Jetblue, and presided over the lowest flight cancellation rate in more than decade:

https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/2023-numbers-more-flights-fewer-cancellations-more-consumer-protections

All that, along with a suite of protections for fliers, mark a huge turning point in the US aviation industry's long and worsening abusive relationship with the American public. There's more in the offing, too including a ban on charging families extra for adjacent seats, rules to make flying with wheelchairs easier, and a ban on airlines selling passenger's private information to data brokers.

There's plenty going on in the world – and in the Biden administration – that you have every right to be furious and/or depressed about. But these expert agencies, staffed by experts, have brought on a tsunami of rules that will make every working American better off in a myriad of ways. Those material improvements in our lives will, in turn, free us up to fight the bigger, existential fights for a livable planet, free from genocide.

It may not be a good time to be alive, but it's a much better time than it was just last week.

And it's only Thursday.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

#pluralistic #labor #antitrust #trustbusting #noncompetes #indenture #ftc #matt stoller #david dayen #tapestry #luxury fashion #capri

[riaki]

an excuse to touch | suguru geto x reader

pt.2 of christmas event! cw: reader is kinda drunk, u and him have a bunkbed but he always sleeps w u on the lower bunk :3

not proofread

"su— guru!"

he knows that pitchy voice; a lilt to it that tells him you've been drinking. a slur that links your breathy words together like the taut strings of a spider's web that's so imperceptible that it would've been impossible to pick up, unless you were him. because suguru knows you better than anyone else.

you say his name weird, which means you've indulged on the bottle of liquor your next-door neighbor brought you that morning, wrapped in a pretty festive ribbon with a snowman drawn into the cork. "my son drew it," your neighbor had explained, and suguru wonders how good of a parent he is, to be letting his 6 year-old doodle on a bottle of wine.

he doesn't have time to concern himself with other people's lives, however. he has his hands full making sure you don't topple into the christmas tree you'd both worked your asses off to decorate last weekend when you stumble into the living room like you're walking on two left feet, threatening to trip over the cord connecting the soft yellow lights to the outlet in the wall. he distinctly remembers the argument you had last night— you thought rainbow lights would look nicer on the tree, but he liked just yellow. in the end, he'd gotten what he wanted— but there wasn't much to gain when you had stolen his sweater and refused to give it back as a vengeance. and now, he couldn't find it.

"right here," he calls, looking up at you from where he's seated on the couch in your living room. the little tv screen plastered to the wall has a fake fire playing over the screen; he knows you love the immersion, even if your apartment complex doesn't have a fireplace or a chimney.

you make your way over to his chair and promptly fall into his already-waiting arms. he pulls you flush to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting you snuggle up to him in his lap. his callused hand immediately snakes up your back to slip beneath your shirt, massaging your back. his embrace is warm; soft. and he smells good, like pine needles and something gently sweet, a little smoky.

soon, your hands find his hair, winding a trail up his neck to thread into the dark strands and pull out the tie. before you can move any further, though, a hand darts out to catch your wrist, and the other moves to tilt your chin up and force you to meet his stern gaze, warm like amber resin on the tree bark.

"[name], where's my sweater?" he asks, raising an accusatory eyebrow. just like that, you shrink away, and he smothers the snicker of amusement that threatens to spill out like hot cocoa with a hand over his lips.

you blink, and he watches your eyelashes flutter. they catch the fake firelight, glowing like billowing reeds under a bright sun in lakewater that reflects the summer sky. "i dunno." a blatant lie; obviously, you do know, because a bit of the red string has tangled in your hair. it was crocheted for him by a friend; you'd think a doctor would have good needle skills, but operating on a patient might be easier than operating on a DIY crocheting kit and a bundle of old string. nevertheless, he took the ugly christmas sweater and cherished it; the scent of cigarette smoke and faintly sterile tiles that clung to it.

but suguru was pretty sure that would soon be replaced by the scent of you, if you kept it much longer. not that he minded, of course.

"i, uh. dropped it. in the fire." you said bluntly, stubbornly weaving your hands into his hair and pulling out his hair tie insistently. a few strands caught; even as drunk as you were, you still took the time to smooth out the tangles so you didn't accidentally rip out a patch of his hair. crude as it was, suguru appreciates little things about you like that. not the fire part, though.

"you dropped it in the fire." he echoes, raising an eyebrow. it feels condescending in a very suguru (read: affectionate) way, so you look away, lower lip sticking out. he thinks that just makes you cuter, though; you look like something straight out of his dreams. he can barely bring himself to be irritated.

"um, yeah."

"so.. it burned up?"

"yes."

"you don't have it anymore."

"no, i don't."

"the fire isn't real," he reminds you quietly; softly if you strain your ears.

"but it's so warm over here. and nice, and cozy. what else could it be?" you protested, flailing your arms as if hitting him would force him to reconcile with your beliefs. suguru just opts to lean away from you, an amused and easy smile on his lips. like he's looking at you in adoration; like you're still the one who was molded from clay to fit in his arms even though you supposedly 'burned' his sweater up.

"not sure," he hums, watching as you stand up on two shaky legs like a newborn doe away from its mother's side; the soft glow from the light of the christmas tree gently illuminating your frame. he wishes he could tug you back by the wrist and kiss you breathless, run his hands over you ever lovingly. "you're just like my personal little space heater." he chuckles, soft smooth and melodic, and it snaps you from your tipsiness as you glance back over at him. “fools me into thinking the fire’s real.”

his hair is loose, tumbling over his shoulders and framing his face like a renaissance prince under the soft light; the brown of his eye shines a gentle caramel, soft and smooth as butter and syrup. there’s an easy smile that curves his lips up; he looks unfairly handsome. he thinks he can catch sight of his reflection in the void of your pupil; it looks like there's a birdnest on his head. he frowns, reaching a hand up to muss the tangled black strands. the windows in the living room are vignetted by a frosted glass, a cold world of white waiting outside. it's almost enough to make him shiver, but here, in the warmth of your presence, the snow melts away with the sunshine of your smile.

his fingers catch in his hair and he lets out a pained grunt. he's straightening his bangs when he looks up from his comfy seat on the couch; you're across the room, sitting on the soft wool carpet. there's a stain on the bundles of fluff, constantly hanging over the both of your heads to remind you of how you'd been enjoying a shared cup of hot cocoa with candy cane chunks when your nasty feline sauntered over and promptly jumped into your lap yet again, knocking over the mug and pouring its terribly sweet and sticky contents onto the wool. it had haunted suguru's domestic household nightmares for days after. your evil cat is curled up in your lap, fluffy mitten paws tucked beneath its head as it naps, and suguru doesn't like the flare of jealousy that springs up in his gut.

you catch the look of disdain on his face and shoot him a lazy smile, tilting your head. it's an invitation if he's ever seen one-- deserved, he thinks to himself. that should be him with his head in your lap, your hands in his hair, smoothing out each individual knot, gently massaging his scalp in the way you knew he loved.

...

he shakes his head and stands, brushing the lint (and cat fur— always a pest) off his sweats and saunters over to you; there's that familiar gait in his step from always walking hunched over during his earlier years of youth. sometimes, you'll build a little pillow fort on your bunk bed and settle in his arms between his legs and listen to him tell you stories from a time that seems so long ago but so fresh like new mint leaves in his memory. he'll play with your clothes, bury his nose in your hair and breathe in the scent of home and something like apples and cinnamon in your shampoo. those fun little story nights are always enjoyable, only because he has the best audience.

he squats down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he peers down at you. your cat in your lap lifts its head, looking like the very dictionary definition of judgmental as it squints at suguru. you just laugh, like silver bells clear in a snowstorm, parting the howling wind as if it's the red sea. paving a path straight through the center of his heart like some cursed cupid's arrow.

he doesn’t mind, though, when you scoot your cat off your lap and open your arms wordlessly. he scoots a little closer before settling into you, back flush against his chest as your arms lock around his waist. you rest your chin on his shoulder and he can’t help the rush of butterflies in his stomach; suguru’s never been the type for this sort of girlish, giddy love. but you always bring new things to the table, don’t you? he loves that about you.

suguru settles into your arms, tilting his head to intercept the kiss he knows you’re about to plant to his cheek to instead meet your lips with his, and he swallows and relishes the little surprised gasp that leaves you when he does. a moment later, he hears a pretty little giddy laugh, and he can’t fight the smile that spreads over his lips.

"you're so soft," he whispers, and it's much more exhausted than he thinks it has any right to be, on such a comforting night like this when your laugh smells of sweet liquor wrapped in chocolate and you serve as good of a sweater as any clearance sale item could.

and soon enough, your fingers slide into his hair, separating soft dark strands like you're organizing a collection of seashells. it takes him a while to notice, but he soon realizes you're braiding his hair. the wind howls outside and the fake fire doesn't provide any heat, but your gentle touch and warmth feel like a cozy throw blanket hanging around his shoulders. and he feels okay now; with the way you run your fingers through his hair, delicately gathering the strands from his hair and running a thumb down the length to smooth the knots, weaving them together like a natural crown of holly flowers.

you brush a stray strand from the nape of his neck, and he shivers when your fingertips brush against the tip of his ear. he can't help but smile when you notice the goosebumps on his bare arms and free one hand to reach for his, tangling your fingers together while you untangle the mats in his hair. it's far too cold for him to be wearing that simple, worn white cotton shirt, but he doesn't mind if you'll be the one to keep him warm through this cold season.

it's all fine and dandy until he speaks up again, when you're nearly falling asleep over his head and your arms drape over his chest, toying with the sapphire necklace around his neck. your little cute breaths tickle the top of his head; you've finished the braid. it's a little messy and stray hairs stick out here and there— but at least you didn't settle for pigtails.

when he speaks, it's not directed towards you, though— he's speaking to your cat, with a stern tone you only recognize as the one he uses with you whenever your clothes end up on his side of the drawer or when his jewelry (or hairties) go missing.

and when you open your eyes groggily after suguru shifts to sit up, feeling the dreary loom of a mini hangover after you fall asleep in his arms tonight— you're blessed with the sight of your beloved house pet— a shredded chunk of tacky fabric from suguru's sweater in its mouth, and the death glare that you can only imagine contorting your handsome boyfriend's face.

needless to say, your cat will be nowhere around the two of you when you decide to share a therapeutic cup of hot cocoa again this time.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

#i’m gonna fail my tests. #STOP THIS IS SO BAD BC ITS SO RUSHED IM SORRY 😭 #all i’ve been thinking about recently is aki so sorry if it’s ooc #i’ll try to fix that for the next ones #catoru cameo??? maybe?????? #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto #suguru geto #jjk x reader #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #riko’s christmas event #stop bc what even is this

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Holiday fic summaries! These will be OC not Reader

Secret Santa:

You attend a big Christmas party at your friend’s. You were instructed to wear something Christmas inspired and to bring a secret Santa gift for a name you’ve chosen at random before attending. You bring a cocktail kit as a gift to another friend. When gift exchange happens, you get your gift and there is a Christmas card with instructions to open in private. When you open your gift later that evening in a room at your friends, it’s the nastiest, freakiest gift ever!!!! You wonder who could have given you this? There were plenty of men and women at that party. You were instructed to wear your gift all evening but still…you don’t know who it is. Eventually, you find out after an entire evening of sexual torture.

Sitting on Santa’s lap for photos:

You’ve always wanted to take pictures with Santa as a little girl but your mom didn’t feel comfortable letting you sit on a grown man’s lap which is understandable. Now that you’re older, you go to a Christmas event at the Fire House with your sister and nieces and there is a toy drive, Brunch, hot cocoa, and a Santa Clause! He’s a black Santa dressed exactly like the fat jolly man. After some thinking you decide to get a picture with some convincing from your sister. You sit on Santa’s lap and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, a deep, laugh causing chills to run down your spine. He asks you what you want for Christmas and you say jokingly: “A MAN! I’m kidding, Santa.” (You weren’t kidding) “honestly, I have everything I could ever want. I just want to spend time with my family.” Little did you know, Santa was going to make that gift come true.

Santa’s naughty list:

Erik is a brat tamer. And he has his eyes on a woman that’s been crowned the black Regina George. She’s cruel, spoiled, rich, and BRATTY. Her daddy is a successful lawyer and her mom is a brain surgeon. She has everything she wants and will always get what she wants. She doesn’t even have to lift a finger. Men are at her beck and call always. She’s every man’s dream. Erik remembers how she treated him all those years ago. He wasn’t enough for her apparently. Didn’t make enough money he assumed. Wasn’t on her level. Erik had it all now. Without her knowledge of who he is, she accepted a date with him on Christmas Eve after talking online for months. She couldn’t wait to see if he was about what he talked. Erik proved to her that he was exactly what she was looking for, but what she didn’t know was that she’d been on his naughty list for a long time now. He had a treat for her stuck up ass. One she’ll never forget for the rest of her life. The ghost of Christmas past, present, and future.

New Year’s wish:

You make a wish as the clock strikes twelve. “I wish I could wake up next to the perfect man that checks off all my boxes. Even if it’s the first man I ever laid my eyes on tonight. I deserve it after the time I’ve wasted on my ex.” You were drunk and saying anything but the shooting star that zipped across the night sky took it seriously. That morning, you wake up in the most luxurious home, even though you recall falling asleep in your own bed last night after the NYE party. Next to you, there is a man sound asleep. You sit up, confused, looking down at your naked body dripped in diamonds. What the hell? You look over at the man next to you and he’s…damn…he’s gorgeous…wait…is this the guy from the party last night?!!!! You’re in for a ride with his man! A dream come true! Only problem is, you have until midnight to live this fantasy before reality sets in.

NYE office party:

It’s the annual NYE party! All departments at this big corporation: Marketing, Finance, IT, Operations, Development, and the big guys that reside on the top floor all come together to celebrate. It’s a mix crowd, and you show up because there’s always good food and lots of alcohol. You work as an Accountant, been there for five years, and you’re single. You show up in your best attire, and all eyes are obviously on you. You find your work friends and gossip. In walks the boss. You’ve never seen this man but you can’t stand him. He’s controlling, demanding, opinionated, and rude as hell. He’s the new CEO of this successful tech company. One of the highest paid in the world. The old CEO never showed up to these events—hold the hell up!!!! Is that the man you fucked a month ago that you’ve been running away from because of that python between his legs?! He’s your boss?!

New Year’s kiss with a stranger:

It’s NYE 2022. You’re spending your NYE in the hospital. You have a patient that you’ve grown close with. His name is Erik and he had a near death experience. He’s a stranger to you but not really. You’ve grown to like him for the past month you’ve been taking care of him. He is recovering well. It was a motorcycle accident. He’s bandaged up and in a contraption to keep him stable with the amount of injuries he has. You’re only doing your travel nursing there and it’s your last day. Erik didn’t talk much. He mostly used his button or communicated with a blink or a slow nod of his head. He surprised you by calling your name that last night. You come to him, happy that he’s speaking more clearly. Erik: “come closer…” you do so, and he whispers, “I’m really going to miss you. Could I please have a New Year’s kiss?” His request threw you off. You laugh, patting his hand gently, “I’m gonna miss you too. I’m sad to leave. I wish I could stay.” Throughout the rest of your shift you can’t help but to think about his request. You couldn’t explain why you felt butterflies in your stomach. You didn’t even know this man outside of being his nurse! Right before you leave, you accept a gift from your nurse supervisor and thank everyone for having you. You’re set to go back home to Chicago for at least two months before another contract in New York. Before you leave, you peek inside of Erik’s room and notice he’s sleeping. You check your surroundings and tiptoe over to his bedside. You look at his lips and then on impulse, you lean in and kiss him. It’s soft and gentle. You could feel tears brimming your eyes. You leave with the realization that you’ll never see him again.

#new fic #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger #christmas #new years

[jjksblackgf]

for a good time | myg (m)

 ❃ Festivaled Away: Burning Memories Music Festival hosted by @bangtanbathhouse  ⤞ Ticket: era of music  ⤞ Main Event: based on a song  ⤞ Games: phone sex

 ⤞ based on the song Don't Look Any Further by Dennis Edwards

pairing — phone sex operator!yoongi x fem reader summary — How many dimes does it take to make you cum, baby? genre — fluff, smut, 80's au, angst if you squint rate — 18+ word count — 3.5k warnings — explicit sexual content, nicotine use, phone sex, public (ish) sex, dirty talk, degradation, alcohol intake. author's note — big thanks to Sophie @kookskingdom for letting me use her name. I love you, baby <33

“Good morning New York City! It's 7:20 in the morning here at the Z100 station. Don’t forget to grab your coats before you leave for work, the weather is not going to be nice for those who like to stay above the 70º Fahrenheit.” 

The radio host continued to make the morning announcements, but Y/N could only think of the hot coffee on her mug, and the pop tarts on her plate. She looks at the calendar placed in the kitchen, and she can almost count the days until her semester is over. She’s so not going to miss NYU when she graduates. I should’ve taken advantage of Spring Break to catch up on sleep when I had the chance. 

“And now, the number one song on the charts, here at 100.3 FM… ‘We Are the World’...”

“Have a good day in class today, honey.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Eat a big lunch later, don’t forget that you have your study session today.”

Pigs could fly, hell could freeze over, the sky could fall, Nixon could win the war on drugs, but one thing that could never happen is Y/N forgetting about her weekly study session at her campus library. 

“Don’t worry, mom,” she affirms in a chipper tone.

Not much drama happens at this small two bedroom apartment. Y/N’s life is fairly normal for a 20-year-old college student. She has breakfast with her parents every morning before catching two trains from Queens to Manhattan. Then, she thanks God for having only a three block walk from the station to her classes. She works part time at a local diner, on Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays from 1 to 7 PM, and every Thursday she spends her afternoon babysitting the neighbor’s babies while studying for her classes.

Very boring routine. Except for Wednesdays. 

On the west side of Washington Square Park, in front of NYU’s Hayden Residence building, there’s a payphone that sits in between some bushes and a tree that resides inside the park’s limits. At 3 PM, while there’s a low traffic of pedestrians, she calls Magic.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Magic,” says the nasal voice. His usual 2:30 PM client, Mrs. Kelly. 

“Is that what you’re calling me?” Magic asks, “I thought we agreed I was going to be the submissive today,” he adds before taking a puff of his cigarette. 

“I have an emergency staff meeting in about ten minutes, so we’ll have to continue our experimentation tomorrow. I just need a quickie before I implode,”

“Okay, so why don’t you open those pretty legs for me? And you better be wearing the stockings I like if you don’t want to be punished.”

“Fuck, you’re good,” she whispers in the other line, and Magic smiles. Middle aged women are just so easy to please. “They’re all open for you, Mr. Magic. But I have been a bad girl. I’m wearing the brown ones.”

“Well then, all there’s left to do is to punish you, isn’t it?” he says before taking another hit, and Mrs. Kelly whimpers in pleasure and anticipation, “Are your office doors closed?”

“Yes, they are, Mister.”

“Tsk, that’s very bad, you see? Very, very bad!”

“W-Why?” Mrs. Kelly asks, anxiety now mixed with desire.

“Well, you’re gonna have to learn who’s really in charge here. So I need you to open that door and let everyone in that reception of yours know who’s your boss.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me, I don’t have to repeat myself,”

“Magic, I could get fired, please don’t do this to me…” Mrs. Kelly starts to beg in a whisper.

“Is Mr. Magic for you, and I don’t have all day. And if I recall correctly, you have a staff meeting in about five minutes,”

He sincerely thought he was about to lose a client, a daily client at that. He could not afford to lose a regular client, but he was in too deep now. But before he could regret it too deeply, he hears a door open on the other end of the line. He gives Mrs. Kelly a minute to readjust before giving her more orders.

“Good girl. But your punishment is just starting, darling,” Magic says as he blows smoke one more time, “You’re going to grab a pen and make a run on that ugly pantyhose. Right on that pretty little cunt. After that you’re going to write “I belong to Mr. Magic” on your inner thigh. Narrate those things while you do it so I know you’re being an obedient girl.”

2:43 PM

‘Fraternity Vacation’, that’s so interesting! Comedies are always great, even the ones with bad critic reviews, you can always count on shitty movies to�� 

2:43 PM

UGH! Was time never going to pass? Y/N was getting impatient for her weekly appointment, and reading and rereading the movie’s section of the paper wasn’t entertaining her like it usually does.

Such a nice blouse that lady has… Oh, what a cute puppy!... I wish I had a dog when I was growing up… That tree is getting kind of bushy… The city’s going to do something about that, but it looks so pretty right now…

Y/N was skilled on how to distract herself, and it was always a plus to live in New York City, there’s always something you can stare at and form an opinion to pass the time. She noticed many different hair cuts, how the pigeons were behaving today, the sounds of the food carts a few yards over.

It didn’t slip her mind when she started fantasizing about her and Magic. It happened often. Every time she’d notice a young couple making out, she’d wish it was her and Magic. Watching an old couple sit on a park bench and read the paper together, wishing it was her and Magic. Watching teenagers sharing an ice cream, wishing it was her and Magic.

She also had fantasies of her own. Walking through the park holding hands, pointing to her favorite tree. They would sit there and have an impromptu picnic, buying a couple of hotdogs with mustard. She would open a book and read her favorite passages, and he would listen while caressing her back and arms.

But she quickly pushed those thoughts away once she noticed an old lady smiling at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the old lady says “I just noticed your smile, and it reminded me of when I was about your age, my first marriage,” the lady says, longing thickening her voice. “I was so in love with my Harold, I thought I was going to throw up, and shit my pants,”

“Oh, wow!” Y/N says, not really invested in the conversation, waiting for an opening to excuse herself.

“Young love is so beautiful, your cheeks get all flushed, your head gets woozy, and you feel drunk all day…” Y/N just nods, looking around, trying to diffuse the conversation. “But you have to be careful, sugar. These men are only here to flirt with you and break your heart! You listen to me!”

“I will! Thanks for the advice,” Y/N smiles awkwardly, and finally gets out of there. 

Love. What about love? That lady doesn’t know anything. I’m not in love. I’m just horny, not in love. I hope.

With the coins in the machine, she dials the known number. It only rings once before the familiar voice picks up.

“You’re never late, are you?” Magic jokes at the other end of the line. His husky voice, so luscious, sends butterflies down her stomach, making Y/N drop her guard, and laugh like a teenager in love. Shit.

“I try my best not to be,” Y/N replies, trying to keep the silly smile off her voice. No need to embarrass herself any further. 

“By the way, happy early birthday,” he wishes, his voice sincere.

“Oh my God, you remembered!” Was it three weeks ago that she had mentioned her birthday party? Probably. And he remembered.

“Of course! I need you to have a wild night this Saturday, and have a drink in my honor,”

“Absolutely,” she says, screaming on the inside. Shit, I’m really in love with him.

“So, how was your day today?”

“Mostly boring. The only thing that kept me perky was the thought that I would talk to you today.”

“Oh, really? That’s flattering,” Magic says, and she fantasizes that he also has a silly smile on his face. “So we’re feeling soft today,”

“Yeah, we haven’t talked in a while.”

“Seven days to be exact,”

“Yeah…” Stop acting like he’s your boyfriend. He isn’t. Stop the fantasies! Get your shit together. “So, how was your week?”

“Fine, mostly boring work hours,” he chuckles.

“I hope you’re not saying this to the other girls. That’s not a nice way to encourage your paying clients,” Y/N scolds.

“Would you forgive me if I confessed that I thought about you this whole week?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure you say this to every other client,”

“That’s not true. You’re the only one I read poems to,” Magic says, trying to cheer her up. He can tell she’s not well. Her voice is not as chipper as it usually is. He hears her sigh on the other end of the line. “Is there something on your mind? Talk to me,”

“I don’t know, I’m just feeling loopy today, that’s all.”

“And you don’t feel like doing anything today?”

“Actually, I think that’s kind of the opposite,” she chuckles, “Distract me, please,”

“I thought about you while taking a shower today,” Magic confesses. 

“You did not!” she whispers, excited.

“I did, too!” he chuckles, “I was washing my hair, imagining if you’d like the scent of my shampoo. I was soaping my body, wishing those were your hands instead of mine.”

“Oh, God,”

“I would’ve kissed your hands before guiding them down my chest, down my abs,”

“Shut up,” she whines in a whisper, but that only entices Magic to continue.

“You would’ve reached me, and I would be ready for your hands. I would be at your mercy. There would be no commands from me, my body would be yours,” Yoongi closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself, he’s feeling his pants getting tighter. Never with a client Yoongi wanted to cross this boundary and touch himself. At least not without being requested to.

He desperately wanted to moan her name, and touch himself, and touch her. But that would be inappropriate. So he places his free hand on his neck, firmly. This hand would not move without Y/N asking him to. But his imagination was still running wild, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than say those words to her.

“Mmhm,” Y/N prompted, her voice a little husky, sounding like she has a moaning trouble of her own.

“I would moan your name over and over. The only name I’d known in the world. Your delicate hands, so fierce for me, would make me cum, probably on your belly. But no worries. I would bite your jawline, go down your neck, licked your beautiful breasts, cleaned my cum with my tongue, before diving into that pretty pussy with my lips,”

“God damn it, you’re going to make me cum in public,”

“I would get on my knees, place your thigh on my shoulder. I would kiss your core, already wet for me. I would get hard again, just because you taste so good. Your hand would grip my hair, and you would moan for me to never stop. Not in a million years I would do that. I would circle the tip of my tongue on your clit, and too soon you would cum all over my chin,”

“I love you, Magic” she whispers. Softly, tenderly. Pink roses, chocolate, and wine. And the world stops.

His eyes, closed for the past minute, shot wide open. Her breath spikes and his heartbeat is going a million miles per hour. What? 

Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond. Did she really mean what she just said? He’s never been in this situation before. This job was always fun for both parties, but it always felt transactional. There was no emotion to be felt except pleasure and lust. 

That’s the thing with having mostly middle aged clients. They have always made it clear that they loved the way they felt when they talked to Magic, never did they love him. Why would they? They were aware of the fact that they didn’t know the 22-year-old on the other side of the phone. They knew the character that molds and fits to every sexual fantasy.

But to someone his age, that may be different. The potential for an emotional connection that he hadn’t anticipated. Maybe that’s better. To be seen. To have someone on the other end of the line that would like to know him. His thoughts were in disarray, but he liked the feeling of being seen.

“I have to go,” Y/N says, and before she can embarrass herself even more, she hangs up, tightening her jacket and walking the other way as fast as she can.

For the past two days, Y/N used her distraction skills to her advantage. All assignments done, took all the extra credit she could take. The neighbor’s kids were happy and tired from playing. She earned extra tips from being such a good waitress, and a compliment from her boss for the good work she was putting in. 

Her room was clean beyond recognition, her vinyls in the correct sleeves, her cassettes organized in alphabetical order. Bright and early Saturday morning, after a celebratory breakfast with her parents, she cleaned the entire house.

“Why are you in such a hurry these days?” her mother asks, catching her at the bathroom door, before Y/N decides to clean something else that was already clean. “It’s your birthday, put your feet up for a minute.”

“Thank you, momma, but I want to keep busy, turn a new page.”

“Why are you turning a new leaf? You’re only 21,”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs “It just feels like a good time,”

Y/N manages to dodge her mother’s questions for the rest of the morning, locking herself in her room and beginning to color code her small closet.

She was not to think of the stupid mistake she made on Wednesday. The first time she said that to a human being that wasn’t part of her family. Granted she did say ‘I love you’ to her Prince poster, but it’s not like Prince could say it back to her. 

She didn’t call Prince and give him the opportunity to say ‘I love you’ back. And when he didn’t say it back, she wasn’t heartbroken. Prince was a poster, not a human being with a phone number. The old lady was right. Men do only exist to break your heart.

The tears started to slowly drip down her cheeks. She made such a fool of herself. Falling in love with a man she never met. A man that had nothing to say, that only opened his mouth when he was offering his services.

“Heeey,” Y/N heard the door open, as Sophie entered her room “are you ready to get drunk?” Sophie whispered, closing the door behind her.

Y/N nods, looking at her boring outfit in the mirror once again. Blue jeans, white t-shirt, blue denim jacket, and white shoes. “I don’t look like a 21 year-old.”

“Don’t worry, your driver’s license will say that for you,” Sophie says. “Now, time to spice up this outfit, because you’re not leaving the house looking like this.”

A good 30 minutes later, Y/N was leaving with a whole new look. Blue jeans, black turtleneck, with black boots and lots of necklaces and bracelets. Sophie swapped their jackets, giving her black leather and taking the denim. Good thing it fit nicely with her ruffle skirt.

“Much better,” Sophie says, twirling Y/N around to look at her entire outfit. “Let’s go, Lane and Mary are meeting us there.”

Paradise Garage. The dream birthday party spot of every person in the Tri State Area. The club was full, and the crowd cheered and sang along to Donna Summer. Y/N wasn’t really in the mood to dance and be joyful. But it was her birthday, and her friends spent an amazing amount of effort to put them on the list. So the birthday drinks start coming, the DJ plays her favorite disco songs, and before she knows it, Love to Love You Baby feels like a karaoke song. 

The night goes on and on, and Y/N wants to soak up all of the energy she can. She wants to enjoy her birthday party with her best friends, and she’ll get her money’s worth tonight. 

“I think you need to drink some more water before we leave,” Lane says, watching her shy friend dance clumsily. It’s almost three in the morning, and the party is starting to die down.

“Don’t worry, I’m not that drunk anymore,” Y/N says, but her friends drag her across the floor anyway, sitting her on a bar stool.

“We’re going to the bathroom, do you want to go?” Mary asks, and when Y/N shakes her head, she turns to the bartender. “She’ll have water. Can you make sure she doesn't wander off? We’ll be back in just a second.”

Y/N barely pays attention to what’s happening around her, she’s enjoying herself playing with her bracelets. A bottle of water is placed in front of her, along with some peanuts. She looked up, and she knew that even drunk, she would never forget the face of this beautiful man in front of her.  

“You should eat something, too,” he says, pointing at the peanuts. “Soak up the alcohol. That’s booze 101 for you,” he winks and Y/N giggles, but stops herself shortly after.

“I can’t giggle with you…” she manages to say, but her sentence drags at the end.

“And why’s that?” the bartender asks, amused.

“Because men only flirt to break your heart,” she explains, shoving peanuts in her mouth. “And you would only flirt with me because you like tips.”

“Oh, wow, who broke your heart, baby?” the man starts to clean up the mess in his counter, Y/N’s mess while she eats.

“My boyfriend, but he’s not really my boyfriend,” she tries to explain, “I don’t really know him, I only talk to him.”

“Communication is good to every relationship,”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t know. I only talk to him on the phone to have sex. Yeah, you heard me right,” she starts to rant, already munching on her second batch of peanuts. “I call this guy, to have sex. Through the phone, I mean. His name is Magic. And you want to know what else? I told him I loved him, like the stupid idiot that I am. And now I don’t know if I can call him again. He thinks I’m a weirdo.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,”

“Yeah, whatever,” she scoffs, but she starts to think as the alcohol starts to wear off. “Do you think I should call him?” she asks the bartender, laying her arm on the counter and her head at the top.

“I think you should,” the bartender answers, “at the very least to break up with him, if you decide you don’t want to call him anymore,”

“What if I sound like an idiot? Can I blame you?” she asks and he laughs.

“Yes, you can come back here and kick my ass.”

Wednesday. April 24th, 1985. 3 PM. The date and hour she decided to get her heart broken again.

With the coins in the machine, she dials the known number. It only rings once before the familiar voice picks up.

“Hey,” Magic answers, his voice softer than she’d imagined it would sound like today. He didn’t even sound like he was expecting anyone else. 

“Hi,” she manages to say. But she doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t know how to proceed from here.

“When I told you I wanted you to have a drink in my honor, I didn’t imagine I was going to be the one to mix it.”

“What?”

“By the way, that leather jacket looks great on you.”

“Excuse me, what?” she asks again. Is her mind playing tricks with her? Did she actually wake up this morning, or is she having the weirdest dream? The butterflies flew wild inside her body. It was like springtime was being born inside of her.

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo. I don’t think you sound like an idiot either. I want to get to know you. But if you’re feeling silly and want to blame your bartender, I know where he lives,” he chuckles, and she joins. Stupid happy tears flowing down her face.

“I want to get to know you, too,”

“Good. My name is Yoongi,” he prompts, and her smile gets wider.

“Hi, Yoongi. My name is Y/N.”

#bangtanbathhouse #festivaledaway #bts ambw #kpop ambw #black kpop fans #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi ambw

[fatehbaz]

So 26 February 2023, Grist re-publishes a piece originally from InvestigateWest, after InvestigateWest got their hands on some sensitive emails/documents revealing that the EPA rather than fairly supervising mining companies “they’re supposed to regulate” has instead assisted the companies “by attacking researchers and smearing peer-reviewed science.” (Surprising nobody; Montana is a resource extraction colony.) The piece is titled “Newly revealed records show how the EPA sided with polluters in a small Montana mining town.”

So I’m like “oh, is this gonna be about the natural gas boom near Sidney on the North Dakota border right alongside the Bakken oil fields, an operation so big and extensive that it artificially lights up the night sky over the open prairies of the northern Great Plains in a way that, from a satellite view, makes the least densely populated and remote corner of the contiguous United States glow brightly as if it were a massive city or as if the entire region were on fire? Or is this gonna be about coal mining in the remote southeastern corner of the state in the badlands and shortgrass prairie near Crow and Cheyenne reservations, where coal companies in the Yellowstone River watershed traditionally have extracted millions from near the Powder River and Black Hills?”

But nope, it’s about Butte.

“Small Montana mining town.”

This city is still among top 5 or top 10 most culturally and economically significant cities in the state. “Significant city” would be more apt than “small town.” But beyond that.

This is the place known as “Butte, America.”

Butte was the epicenter, the home base, the foundation of the Gilded Age copper boom that electrified the world and lit the streetlights and parlors of turn-of-the-century London and New York.

All that copper wiring, that’s from Butte, or from the industries that Butte’s barons established. This was the city where mining magnates ran the Anaconda Copper Mining Company which spear-headerd the pillaging of Latin America (referenced in the “open veins of Latin America”). Anaconda established the century-long tradition of Canadian and US mining companies destroying lives and landscapes in the Andes.

By 1899, Butte was one of the most significant US cities between the Mississippi River and the Sierra Nevada. This was the home of the Copper Kings.

The Anaconda company, in 1919, completed construction on a smelter smokestack 585 feet high, which remains the tallest surviving brick structure on the planet.

The wealth of Butte in the Edwardian era is unfathomable. They had a rollercoaster. In a single year, merely just those local mines along the edge of the city could produce $23 million ($700 million today). And that doesn’t include all of the wealth stolen from Latin America or other mines in the western US.

Montana was a state that pioneered the “corporations are people” stuff. Its very statehood itself, the christening of Montana, was a gift to the Copper Kings. Every important state office was practically purchased, owned by those mining barons.

This is also why Montana was the site of some of the earliest and most important labor struggles. Because the entire state of Montana was functionally a copper mining company town. Among notable events: the 1914 Butte labor riots, the 1917 brutal assassination of Frank Little, and the 1920 “Anaconda Road Massacre” in which company guards shot and killed 17 fleeing people.

This is why, depending on who you ask, Butte is either A Company Town or A Union Town.

Butte claims to be the home of the “largest population of Irish-Americans per capita of any US city.” This may or may not be true, but this Irish influence evident in the local popularity of pasties. In the Edwardian era, Butte was also the site of an important Chinatown neighborhood and a large Chinese community.

Locally, Butte is famous/infamous for being the site of the Berkeley Pit. Or “The Pit.” The remaining scar of an open-pit copper mine. It’s one mile long, half-mile wide, almost 2,000 feet deep, filled with 900 feet of acidic water laden with cadmium, sulfuric acid, and arsenic.

Just sitting there. In the city.

“Oh, well, of course, back in the Gilded Age, in the 1890s, US businesses got a little out of control, and boom-town communities weren’t really thinking long-term, and they also didn’t know all The Science, so they allowed for the creation of, like, giant toxic death-pits in their residential areas,”

Nope. They built that open-pit mine in 1955 and operated it until 1982.

Anyway, that’s kind of what the 2023 investigative report is about. There is a newer mine (copper and molybdenum) currently open and operating in the city, right next to The Pit.

And the current mine is owned by the richest man in the state of Montana, Dennis Washington. And the EPA is like, “Don’t worry. The mine in the city is fine, it’s all good.” Because that’s what US government land management agencies do: File due diligence paperwork for land-owners while others get poisoned.

The largest open pit copper mine (by extracted volume) on the planet, and the second-deepest open-pit mine of any kind on the planet, is at Chuquicamata in the Atacama region of Chile. This mine was the property of the Anaconda company.

The towering smokestack. The Pit on the edge of town. The gaping wound at Chuquicamata. The legacy of the Copper Kings lives on with the continued theft and poisoning of those in both Montana and the Andes.

#landscape #mining #imperial

[misirosekisiro]

Bullied No More 4-5

Chapter 4

Finally a night of judgement day. Shota head to the place that Akira said.

The dense foliage of bushes and trees enveloped the landscape around the dilapidated ruins of the former industrial site, creating an eerie ambiance. Slowly, the moonlit sky cast its illumination onto the crumbling structures, giving off a haunting effect.

As Shota approached the rendezvous point, he found himself marveling at the surroundings. Despite the isolation of the location, it had an air of mystery about it—an ideal setting for his grand scheme. Drawing closer, he noticed that someone seemed to be waiting for him.

Although partially concealed amidst the shrubbery, the silhouette standing motionless revealed itself to be none other than Akira. Relief surged through Shota as he realized that he hadn't arrived too early nor missed their meeting entirely. Quietly, they began to strategize the rest of their operation, ensuring nothing went wrong once Ryuji entered the picture.

The pair proceeded to scavenge for firewood to sustain their vigil during the hours ahead. They gathered several fallen tree limbs and dry leaves strewn across the earth.

Using their bare hands, they managed to ignite the materials with relative ease, quickly producing flames dancing beneath the dim glow of the moonlight. Once satisfied with the intensity of the fire, they took turns warming themselves beside the crackling inferno. The warmth offered temporary relief from the chilliness of the evening, though it didn’t dispel the ominous atmosphere lingering throughout the deserted terrain.

"Now you need to hide , got big brush there where you can hide and clearly see me, Wait silently until i signal you, ok?." Akira said.

"Ok!" Shota nods. He move to the brush just not far form, hiding. Let's Hiroki or Akira waiting for Ryuji come.

Ryuji arrive little later than expected. Maybe because he party whole night with his gang yesterday.

"Hey, Hiroki!" Ryuji greeting to his best friend.

"Yo, Ryuboy. Finally show up Hm!" Hiroki reply. "Think you forget about my birthday.. " Hiroki do fake sobbing.

"Stop do fake cry! You know i will not miss my best friend birthday!"

Ryuji exclaimed, putting on a convincing smile. "Let's celebrate properly, eh? We haven't hung out much recently since we joined the football club.

"Nah, you know, my old man want me to act as "A man who will conqure a future of Namisawa group", Damn shit. So he not want me to hang out too often."

While talking, Ryuji grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his bag. He took a swig from it and handed it to Hiroki, inviting him to partake in the liquid courage. Hiroki accepted cautiously, taking a modest sip, allowing the strong spirit to burn down his throat.

Both friends continued to chat animatedly, unaware of the hidden spectator watching closely from afar. Feeling increasingly anxious yet determined, Shota maintained his silent vigil.

Hiroki try not to take too much, but keep filling Ryuji's glasses.

His face became flush, eyes glazed, breath heavy. Yet he retained his sense of confidence and self-control, impressive given his diminishing mental faculties.

Understanding full well what transpired inside Ryuji's brain, Shota anxiously waited for the opportune moment. His hand trembled slightly, betraying his nerves. He reminded himself repeatedly why he was here — for justice and retribution against the vicious perpetrator that tormented him daily.

With baited breath, Shota eagerly observed as Hiroki skillfully manipulated events, lulling Ryuji further intoxication. Time was running out. Just a little more, and the opportunity awaited them.

Finally, Hiroki succeeded in getting Ryuji completely unconscious, leaving him collapsed against a tree trunk.

Hiroki turn his face to where Shota is hiding. then show his thumb up.

Shouting triumphantly, Shota emerged from his hiding spot within the surrounding foliage. With practiced efficiency, he produced the precious vial containing the potion a "Miracle drug".

"Finally we do it right?" Hiroki said.

Shota nods without word, he walk to unconcious Ryuji. who laid on the ground, snoring.

Glancing furtively toward Akira for approval, Shota hesitated briefly before approaching the prostrate figure. His pulse raced madly as he inched ever closer to achieving his objective.

Stepping away from the darkness of the forest brush, Shota positioned himself directly above Ryuji. A sudden rush of euphoria coursed through his veins as he looked upon his lifeless victim. All these years of suffering bore fruit today.

In his palms, Shota held the means to exact sweet revenge upon Ryuji. This newfound power electrified him like nothing else, driving away the coldness seeping through his clothes. He couldn't believe his luck.

Suddenly aware of his impending victory, Shota felt alive, as if each pore absorbed energy from the world around him. Every fibre of his body hummed with electricity, while anticipation coursed through his veins. This was his time to reclaim something vital taken from him so long ago.

He pour a "Miracle drug" in to Ryuji's mouth.

Shaking back, Ryuji struggle for a second, but soon fall deep into unconsciousness. There it is. The miraculous transformation begins.

Samething that happen when Hiroki take "Miracle drug" now showing on Ryuji.Ryuji body start to deflat like a balloon lost it air.

Shota feel nervous excitement, he watch Ryuji's muscle lose their definition, turning soft, limp, vulnerable. When it finish what left is only Ryuji's skinsuit wearing loose clothes on the floor. Wait for new owner.

As ethernal that he wait, Shota move to Ryuji's skinsuit and his belongs. Shota pick Ryuji's skinsuit up. all clothes was fall down to the floor left only a flatten body of Ryuji, wait for Shota to wear.

Shota feels immense satisfaction and accomplishment at having completed his task successfully. In fact, the very thought of possessing Ryuji's skin excites him beyond measure. He knows that it might seem morbid, but he sees it as payback for all those times Ryuji hurt him, physically and emotionally. He put the skinsuit down, and start to strip himself.

As he did, his heart racing in anticipation, a thrilling sensation surging through his entire body. Each piece of clothing shed revealing layers upon layers of raw sensuality.

Feeling liberated, Shota discarded all traces of his previous existence, embarking on a journey towards claiming ownership of a fresh new persona. Like peeling off layers of skin, he gradually stripped away his individuality, symbolizing a rebirth of sorts.

"Yo Yo slowly boys, No ways he will run aways right?" Hiroki said as he laugh to how rush Shota was.

Shota smirked at his friend's teasing remark, acknowledging the humor in the situation. Both young men shared a bond borne from their collective pain inflicted by Ryuji and his cronies.

They stood, frozen in silence for a few moments, gazing intently at Ryuji's deflating body lying helplessly on the ground. Their faces displayed expressions of sheer disbelief mixed with elation, as reality set in.

This marked the beginning of their grand experiment, and its success hinged upon the successful transition into their newly acquired personas.

Shota pick Ryuji's skin suit up, then he start to pull skinsuit's mouth open wide. Hiroki don't hesitate to go help. Compare to when Akira take Hiroki his size still not this much different. Shota is so short and little frame compare to Ryuji. But with both boys work together finally both Shota legs is fill in Ryuji's skinsuit.

It wasn't perfect fit, but it would suffice for the immediate task at hand. Gripping onto the material tightly, Shota took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Then it's happen, his legs is start to fill in skinsuit's legs. longer, bigger. Until it's show only Ryuji sport legs.

"Ha ha ha, you know you look so wried in this stage. Your legs is so long and muscle. while your upper body seem timit compare to them." Hiroki laugh.

Then Hiroki help Shota to put in his body in skinsuit. His tiny arm like fill in a large loose glove. Even it's challange, but finally Shota was in full Ryuji's body suit.

Looking at Shota transform, one could say that it was truly an amazing sight. Shota had transformed almost entirely – his once frail arms now resembled robust tree branches, extending effortlessly, their strength undeniably impressive. Even his formerly delicate hands seemed to exude masculinity. It was astonishing to witness firsthand how quickly Shota's body began adapting to the physical attributes of his former enemy. The change was evident across his entire being, encompassing subtleties such as posture, gait, and facial expression.

Standing tall and proud, Shota radiated confidence, commanding respect despite the foreign surroundings. Shota marveled at his metamorphosis. He glanced sideways at his alter ego—the once feared bully turned into a mere shell. Satisfaction permeated every fiber of his being, instilling an irresistible urge to taste vengeance.

The two friends grinned broadly at each other, reveling in their accomplishments thus far. Having claimed control over Ryuji's life, their mission appeared complete. However, there remained the matter of replacing themselves with their targets. This final step would require great care and precision. Shifting uneasily in his borrowed body, Shota silently contemplated the complexities involved in assuming someone else's identity.

To ensure their efforts were not futile, Hiroki suggested they test their abilities by engaging in typical activities associated with their counterparts.

Stepping into Ryuji's shoes, Shota relished the feeling of dominance that came with inhabiting his rival's life. Conversely, Hiroki struggled to maintain the stoic composure usually attributed to Ryuji, finding it challenging to suppress his natural inclination for warmth and compassion. Nonetheless, they persisted, taking advantage of every available resource to immerse themselves fully in their roles.

Overwhelming waves of sexual attraction consumed Shota as he assumed Ryuji's persona. He look at Hiroki. He can see a passion is Hiroki's eyes. Still nake he walk toward Hiroki.

Understanding his intentions, Hiroki didn't resist, instead allowing Shota to take the lead. Embracing their new personas, the pair indulged in the most daring and erotic display possible. Sensually, they explored each other's bodies, testing the limits of human endurance and pleasure. Shota traced Hiroki's lithe muscles, feeling the heat generated by the contact. Hiroki reciprocated, drawing attention to the intricacies of Shota's well-defined features.

He ran his fingers along Shota's sharp jawline, admiring the contrast between Ryuji's hardened visage and Shota's tender countenance. Breathless and trembling, they continued to explore each other’s bodies, further cementing their connection. With gentle nibbles and kisses, they traversed from lips to neck, leaving behind a trail of moans and gasps. Their movements became increasingly fervent, as they sought solace amidst the chaos of their tumultuous lives.

Inhibitions faded into insignificance as lustful desires gave way to primal instincts. Shota grabbed hold of Hiroki's firm ass cheeks, squeezing them with intensity. Simultaneously, Hiroki pressed his palm against Shota's erect penis, stroking it gently yet determinedly. They moved rhythmically, becoming entwined with each other in a dance of ecstatic passion. The scent of sweat, sex, and uncertainty filled the air, intensifying the ambiance surrounding the lovers.

Under Shota's influence, Ryuji's previously subdued libido emerged with renewed vigor. The pair found solace in the comforting embrace of each other's arms, surrendering completely to the intense wave of passion consuming them. Together, they navigated the labyrinthine path of desire, seeking out the sweet release hidden beneath layers of repressed emotions.

Drenched in sweat, they climaxed simultaneously, collapsing onto the ground in exhaustion.

Panting heavily, Shota buried his face in Hiroki's shoulder, inhaling deeply to savor the lingering essence of their encounter. Meanwhile, Hiroki caressed Shota's back, whispering endearments that fueled the fires of passion burning inside him.

For several minutes, neither spoke nor moved, content in basking in the afterglow of their experience. Eventually, though, they felt obligated to return to their primary objectives. With heavy hearts, they knew their time together must come to an end.

Shota or now Ryuji standing, walk to what Ryuji belongings that left on the ground. Hiroki watching quietly know this is the time for Shota to fully took Ryuji's place.

Shota start to pickup Ryuji's clothes.

First, he grab Ryuji's favorite Spendex Red Bikini. Smelling the fabric, Shota couldn't contain his excitement. The familiar scent triggered memories of Ryuji's cruelty, making him feel stronger and more determined than ever before. He held the garment close to his nose, inhaling deeply, absorbing the unique essence of his nemesis. The smell sent shivers down his spine, heightening his sense of power and satisfaction.

Next, Shota picked up Ryuji's boxers. These too carried the same tantalizing scent, stirring within him a mixture of repulsion and fascination. He examined the worn fabric closely, observing the subtle signs of damage caused by years of usage. He touched the seams, running his fingers along the edges, committing these details to memory.

Each scratch, mark, and wrinkle bore witness to Ryuji's life experiences, adding depth to the fabric itself. Intrigued by the concept of possessing such tangible remnants of Ryuji's existence, Shota placed the boxers aside to examine the rest of the items.

Feeling triumphant, Shota moved on to inspect Ryuji's jacket, another prized possession. Carefully holding the sleeves between his thumb and index finger, he breathed in the familiar mix of fabric softener and body odor.

Each sniff provided a window into Ryuji's personal space, imprinting indelibly upon Shota's sensory memory. Adjusting the jacket around his shoulders, he noted the subtle creasing near the elbow where it often rubbed against his books during class. The faint outline revealed a piece of Ryuji's daily routine, reinforcing Shota's growing attachment to his host's possessions.

Satisfied with his findings, Shota proceeded to inspect the remainder of Ryuji's clothing collection.

There lay a pair of jeans emblazoned with numerous holes scattered throughout its surface, evidence of prior confrontations that occurred during Ryuji's rebellious youth. A thick leather belt hung nearby, bearing traces of dirt collected from various locales frequented by Ryuji. All of these articles served as silent witnesses to Ryuji's history, offering Shota a comprehensive understanding of his adversary's life.

As Shota gathered these relics, Hiroki observed discreetly from afar.

Recognizing the importance of this moment, he offered silent support, patiently waiting for Shota to assume his role as Ryuji fully. Shota carefully donned Ryuji's clothing, mentally preparing himself for his transformation. Each item added to his ensemble symbolized the culmination of his journey toward reclaiming what was rightfully his.

Fully dressed in Ryuji's attire, Shota start to flash with Ryuji's memory. slowly but it never stop.

It seemed like forever since they had last engaged in such acts of intimacy. Yet somehow, Shota found immense gratification in revisiting the uncharted territory of Ryuji's psyche. His breath quickened as he imagined how different this experience might be if he were truly Ryuji, experiencing the world through newfound eyes.

Having established a solid foundation for their bond, Hiroki felt emboldened enough to express his own needs.

"Now pal, I understand when you say, you still be Akira, while act as Hiroki." said Shota, but in Ryuji's voice, tone and style.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a wicked smile playing across his lips. “Yes, my friend” he replied, adopting Hiroki's usual mannerisms. The sudden change in persona caught Hiroki off guard, causing him to falter slightly.

Ryuji smile, "Now we got new world to explore right? pal!"

Ryuji laughed, placing a hand affectionately on Hiroki's shoulder. This gesture caught Hiroki off guard once again – the tenderness displayed by Ryuji only amplified the stark difference between their former selves.

"Sigh... I think i need some time to familar with this new Ryuji" sighed Hiroki.

Both laugh with content

"Take your time," chuckled Ryuji, playfully poking Hiroki's ribcage.

Chapter 5

In the school after judgement weekend. Ryuji on the limo to school, his driver just stay in silent cause his boss's son don't want to talk with mere driver.

When finally arrived at school, Ryuji step out of the limo, looking around school campus. He never realize how beautiful this place until today, maybe because today is special, he's different, and everything seems different to him too. Even sunlight hit differently nowadays, seem brighter, warmer compared to yesterday.

The morning light danced gracefully across the verdant landscape, casting a serene atmosphere upon the hallowed grounds. Birdsongs harmoniously accompanied the early risers as they began their routines.

"Yo, pal" familar voice greeting. Ryuji turn to Hiroki that entering school gate with fake boring face.

"There, there who here. my damn friend, Hiroki finally approch..."

"Damn Ryuboy! you must shame, even take limo to school everyday, you still almost late compare to me that need to walk here."

Ryuji smirk. "We should have race see who arrive first, bet?"

Hiroki grinned mischievously, "Sounds fun, let's do it. We haven't really had a proper challenge since our little escapade."

This brought a wave of nostalgia rushing through Ryuji, flooding his mind with images of past encounters. Sensing this, Hiroki quickly changed the subject.

"By the way, did you hear about Tomoko's party tonight? She mentioned something about inviting popular kids, so I thought we could crash it for some entertainment."

Ryuji raised an eyebrow. "Crash her party? Why would we bother doing that?"

Hiroki grinned cockily. "Well, she invited us, didn't she? Besides, I heard she has quite a reputation among girls."

At this remark, Ryuji perked up considerably. "Reputation among girls, you say?Ryuji's eyes gaze piercing to Hiroki.

"Ok Ok! no more joke." Hiroki laugh. he look around, see no one looking. Step in and kiss on Ryuji's cheek.

His heart racing, Ryuji turned towards Hiroki, feeling his lover's gentle touch resonate deep within him. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to succumb entirely to the tender connection forming between them.

But then Hiroki run away with laugh.

"Ryuboy, if you not run now, you will late you know!"

Hiroki continued, taunting Ryuji playfully. Unwilling to lose this friendly competition, Ryuji broke into a swift jog, catching up to Hiroki effortlessly.

They raced through the hallways, skirting the crowds of curious onlookers who recognized the two renowned figures of their school. Their determination to reach the finish line ahead of each other ignited a fierce rivalry, fueling a mutual desire to assert dominance over the other.

In the class room, Teacher seem worry. Akira still absent, and now his close friend Shota also disappear. Ryuji watch on empty seat that use to be a Shota place. He feel a bit sorry to his parents, even he left a letter that say he need torun away from home for some reasons. To make sure that his parent will not desperate about his disappear. He decide that will sent mail to his home time to time to show that he still alive, well.

At the evening in soccor club.

Both boys sit on benches, watching sunset painting sky with brilliant colors. Feeling tranquility fill the air around them, Ryuji leaned back, closing his eyes briefly to savor the warmth of the setting sun.

They resting after a heavy training, now watch other teamate clearing the field to call it end for today.

"Do you think, we done right thing?" Ryuji's asked.

Hiroki hesitated before answering honestly. "I am unsure. But perhaps taking control of our fates feels better than being helpless victims anymore. If anything, this gives us the power to rewrite our destinies."

Ryuji mulled over Hiroki's response, nodding in agreement. "And perhaps, our true purpose lies beyond the walls of this school—somewhere else, where we can create a life free from judgment and expectations."

Looking towards the horizon, Hiroki smiled dreamily.

"At least, form tomorrw... Ryuji who love to bully people will no more" Ryuji said. "I will finally decide that bully people is such a waste of time."

"So, from tomorrow, what will you choose instead?" Hiroki probed gently.

"I don't know, but I only know that it's better for other people. those who always a prey, such as Shota, Akira... right?" Ryuji asked.

"Umm.. I guess so, if we continue bully people just to show who we are. May someone... going to seek for revange the same ways Shota and Akira do. A vicious circle right?" Hiroki whisper while look upon the sky.

'Let's hope our future days aren't filled with darkness.' He confided softly, a solemn expression crossing his features.

Ryuji looked deeply into Hiroki's eyes, sensing his vulnerability amidst all the changes. 'If there ever comes a time when the night turns darker,' he promised, cupping Hiroki's cheeks lovingly, 'know that I won't leave your side.

In the forest near tokyo, there was an abandon hut. One boy standing in front of the door. He look nervous.

Hands clenched tightly, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Steadying himself, he reached for the keyring dangling from his pocket, its worn metal surface reflecting the dim light filtering through the trees overhead. Pulling the small key from its loop, he inserted it cautiously into the rusty lock, turning it smoothly clockwise. As the tumblers clicked satisfyingly into place, he pushed open the creaky wooden door, admitting a faint whiff of dust and decay into the crisp autumn air.

Entering the abandoned hut, the interior appeared even gloomier than outside, a testament to years of neglect. Cobweb-covered windows cast eerie patterns onto the floor, adding to the overall sense of mystery surrounding the building. Despite these ominous signs, the boy pressed forward into the depths of the structure.

With each step taken, the ground beneath his feet groaned in protest against the passage of time. Dust swirled silently in the low beam of light provided by a single lantern, illuminating the dilapidated space with a somber radiance.

Suddenly he saw a figure standing in the dark.

Panicking, his hands shook as he tried to pull the flashlight. The sudden brightness revealed another person standing in the corner of the hut. The man, in black jacket with hoods. Standing there silently.

the mysterious stranger stared unwaveringly at the young visitor, leaving him trembling from unease. Finally breaking the silence, the intruder spoke with a voice like gravel, raspy yet oddly calming.

"So you finally here, hmmm"

said the mysterious man. His words felt like sharp stones rubbed against a raw wound. Yet, the boy couldn't help but stand his ground, despite the uneasiness he felt.

Despite the situation, the boy managed to ask cautiously, “Who…are you?”

"My name is none of your concern, boy.” The stranger replied coldly, causing the boy’s knees to buckle slightly under the weight of his secrecy.

"But you come here to looking for me isn't it?"

the mysterious man prodded, studying the quivering boy intently. There was a brief pause as the young visitor summoned enough courage to respond.

"Yes," he murmured quietly, though he wasn't certain why exactly he had ventured here. The answer seemed insignificant and vague, but strangely fitting.

"If you are that one, t. t .The Dealer..." boy whispering.

The Dealer giggle.

"You follow the bread so far but still not sure what you found?"

The Dealer questioned, maintaining a cool exterior, despite the boy’s evident distress.

Fear coursing through his veins, the boy fought hard to find his composure. Taking a deep breath, he slowly regained focus.

"So, it real? D.D.Do you have it?"

The Dealer not answer, he pick up a vial form his pocket.

The boy feel his pulse quickening rapidly. Is this it? This object hold the key to changing his destiny?

He looks at the strange man, confusion etched across his face. "What is that?" he asks timidly, pointing toward the vial.

The Dealer chuckles once again, enjoying the suspenseful moment. "That, my dear boy, is the potion that shall change your fate forever."

The boy blinks, processing the implications of the statement. "Changing my fate... Yes! Yes! the rumor was real! That damn Ryuji! I will, I will! "

Can you really give me this potion?", the boy eagerly asked, holding his breath.

The Dealer smirked sardonically, enjoying the young boy's excitement. "Ah yes, lad, it's yours for the asking. Just remember, nothing good comes without sacrifice."

Confusion clouded the boy's face. What does he mean by sacrifice? Does he require blood or payment? Surely this potion cannot cost too much.

"You know everything have a price, boys..." The Dealer smile "So how much you will pay?" The Dealer asked, again this question that will always get same answer... everyone always thrown anything they have to bend their destiny. No one can stop themself and think, is it really worth? What really price will be at the end. He can only laugh form eternity to eternity.

Boy shout "I will.....!"

#identity theft #steal clothes #stolen identity #clothes stolen #gay #male body suit #male bodysuit

[usafphantom2]

RUSSIA: With the only aircraft carrier stopped in reform, MiG-29K embarked fighters were sent to the war in Ukraine

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 23/01/2024 - 08:49in Military, War Zones

The Russian navy embarks its new Mikoyan MiG-29KR fighters aboard its only aircraft carrier. But the elderly - and unreliable - Admiral Kuznetsov has been under renovation since 2017. So the Russian Navy gave new use to the jets of the embarked squadron.

The 1980 vintage flattop aircraft carrier of 58,000 tons may never return to frontline service, effectively stranding its twin-engine supersonic MiGs.

The Navy may have found another use for some of the approximately 22 MiG-29KR survivors of the 24 that the fleet acquired from 2013: according to the Ukrainian Center for Defense Strategies, it unfolded them to Crimea. From there, they supposedly hunt Ukrainian navy boats.

The new MiGs, which have multifunctional capability with modern air-to-air and air-to-ground weapons, were left out of the first 18 months of Russia's 23-month broader war against Ukraine. Perhaps already last fall, at least two MiG-29KR belonging to the 100º Independent Ship Fighter Aviation Regiment were flying from the Saky air base in Russia-occupied Crimea.

The medium-weight MiGs allegedly flew alongside Russian navy Sukhoi Su-30SM heavy fighters on patrols in search of Ukrainian navy boats operating in the western Black Sea.

After sinking the frigate Hetman Sahaydachniy, the Ukrainian navy no longer has large armed warships. What it has are many missiles, air and sea drones and small fast boats.

Manned boats carry Ukrainian commands in attacks on Russian-controlled territory. Robotic boats loaded with explosives infiltrate the ports to attack Russian warships.

A supersonic fighter versus a small boat may seem like an unfair fight, but the crews of Ukrainian boats usually carry ground-to-air missiles fired in the shoulder. In August, a Ukrainian crew hit a Russian Sukhoi fighter, apparently damaging it and forcing it to return to the base.

Despite the danger, do not be shocked to see more MiG-29KRs in the sky of Ukraine. Some of the Russian navy's MiG-29KR patrol the Russian Arctic, but most of the force - more than a dozen jets - may be available for wartime operations.

And it's not as if the MiGs need to board Kuznetsov anytime soon. Although the Kremlin optimistically projects that the aircraft carrier may return to the fleet this year, it is possible that the review will extend until 2025.

There is even a remote chance that Kuznetsov will never return to the fleet. The aircraft carrier has very little real combat power - perhaps too little to justify the risk that the crew must accept every time the geriatric ship sails.

The last time Kuznetsov unfolded off the coast of Syria to attack Syrian rebels in 2016, his air wing lost a MiG-29 and a Su-33 due to faulty detention equipment. The fleet leaders decided that Kuznetsov was not safe for flight operations before the planned overhaul and transferred its air wing - including the surviving MiGs - to an air base in Syria.

Source: Forbes

Tags: Military AviationMiG-29Kaircraft carrierWar Zones - Russia/Ukraine

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 6: Reach

WIP: Misfortunate Sol Pairing: Cal x Sol Timeline: an alternate universe version of events. this in no way spoils the real plot. CW: Fire, death, blood, gun violence. it's not that bad but it's better to err on the side of caution Rating: T Words: 2,150

***

Detective Calvin Logan entered the precinct at an unusually early time in the midst of utter chaos. He was so bereft of his first cup of coffee, however, that he didn't even notice the state of the place until he attempted to rectify his delayed caffeine situation.

He grumbled under his breath as he poured already-aging coffee into the first mug he got his hands on—a stout metal cup the police captain had brought in from his time in the war.

Cal looked up and squinted at the cops running around, papers flying, telephone operators being yelled at. He almost didn't catch himself in time before he overflowed the cup and coffee splashed onto the floor at his feet.

"What's goin' on?" he asked Officer Melvin Funkwhistle on his way past at nearly the speed of a barreling train. For a brief instant Cal mused to himself that perhaps the officer was running away from his unfortunate name, and he found he had trouble tamping down the distracted grin that formed on his face in response.

"There's something happening at the Majesty Hotel," Funkwhistle said over his shoulder. "Captain's sending out cars to handle it."

Cal frowned alongside his first sip of coffee and couldn't even enjoy it. "The Majesty? What's happening at the Majesty?"

Funkwhistle was already gone, but Captain O'Reilly stepped into his line of vision as a decent substitute. He tugged at his Sam Browne belt and addressed Cal with seriousness bordering unpleasant at such an early time of day.

"We got a call about an hour ago regarding a possible hostage situation," O'Reilly said, his thick mustache twitching. "We believe the guests and staff are being kept prisoner by an unknown assailant. There's been a fire allegedly set—"

Where the news of a strange person holding the hotel hostage previously did not jar Cal fully out of his bleariness, the news of a possible fire rattled him enough to send a drop of coffee into the wrong pipe.

He hacked around the offending liquid and pounded a fist into his chest. "A fire—Captain?!" He stared with wild eyes at his boss, disposing of his coffee and the cup into the trash can beside him. "I gotta...you gotta let me—"

"No," O'Reilly barked immediately, all but diving into the trash to retrieve the cup. "We have enough cars headed that way now. You'll get a chance when the situation is dealt with—"

All Cal could think about was Solomon Maxwell Iron. If the guests and the staff were being held hostage, that meant Sol, too. The strangeness of having had a heated argument with him the previous night about something trivial—about how Cal couldn't seem to leave the poor man alone regarding the deaths that followed him everywhere—and now he was likely in grievous danger...

"You got this call an hour ago?!" Cal roared suddenly. He felt the color leaving his face as surely as he felt disbelief boiling into rage in the pit of his chest. "And you're just now controlling the situation?!"

"The legitimacy—"

Cal did not think the captain was incompetent. He always respected him, held him in high regard in the day-to-day, which is why this display of suspicion surprised him.

All he could recall of the following sequence of events was grunting something about his acceptance toward being fired later, then tearing down the somewhat busy street in a screaming squad car, his arms burning from the urgency of cranking the siren and avoiding a collision all at once.

His heart leapt into his throat as soon as he careened around the final corner leading to the Majesty Hotel, and it had little to do with nearly flattening the officer directing traffic at that particular intersection.

A plume of thick, black smoke curled up from somewhere on the building, pouring into the sky not unlike Cal's unhelpful coffee into the frazzled captain's war cup.

"C'mon," Cal muttered partially to Sol, who definitively was not anywhere around, and partially to the living obstacles standing between him and the hotel. "C'mon, kid, please make a damn fool outta me."

By some miracle he managed to put the car in park somewhere he wouldn't remember later before sprinting into the gaggle of police gathered across the road from the hotel.

"Get me in there," he demanded, utterly disinterested in having a chance to catch his breath. "If that fire spreads—"

Sergeant Pickering swung around to aim a bullhorn in Cal's face. "The fire brigade is on the way," he said into the device, slowly and with force as if scolding a child for the tenth time in as many minutes, "do not even breathe at that hotel until I have given the all-clear, Logan."

"The fire brigade's on the way, meanwhile a possible mass murderer has a buffet of choice at their fingertips while we stand around waiting," Cal snapped.

"Which is precisely why we are not to rush in without a plan," Pickering retorted, waving some of his subordinate officers away. "This calamity is dangerous and sensitive. We can't risk anything going wrong, here."

Cal dropped steely eyes onto Pickering from his outside assessment of the hotel. He'd never felt this riled up, this feral with fear and determination before in his life. "Where's the assailant?"

"We've determined they're possibly based on the top floor, where the fire is located—"

"Are the elevators operational?"

"No, and furthermore—"

"If I fail, shoot me," Cal said before breaking into another sprint away from the assaulting bullhorn.

Instead of going through the front doors, he veered off to the left, keeping an eye out for the side entrance Sol had thrown him through in his attempts to get the investigations off his back. All of his effort to stop Cal from doing his job.

As he slipped through the unassuming door, the first thing he noticed was that the smell of smoke wasn't very strong in that portion of the hotel yet. The emptiness of the hallways proved eerie, sending a sprout of goosebumps over his arms.

He jogged through the kitchen and eventually the lobby, vigilant for any sign of life, his gun drawn and ready. He ascended the stairs, pausing beside a body laid out face-down on the landing floor.

He peered down at the body and his frown deepened. He didn't recognize him, but he wore a luxurious smoking jacket stained with a massive patch of blood on the back, and his hair was unruly, sticking up and out at odd angles. A guest, it seemed.

Cal's shoulders tensed and he felt a prickle at the back of his neck. Carefully, he turned toward the doors leading to the second floor.

A person wearing a Hallowe'en mask, a piece of leather with holes cut out for the eyes, nose, and mouth, stood at the door with an arm hooked tightly around Sol's neck, the muzzle of a pistol pressed against the side of his head. The masked person was taller than Sol, taller than Cal, and they breathed through their mouth as if the nose hole wasn't sufficient.

Sol coughed hard and regarded Cal with surprise, fingers gripping onto his captor's arm hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. "D-Detective?" he said meekly.

Cal ignored him. Had to. If he thought too hard about the dark, angry bruises around Sol's eyes, the officers outside would have to shoot his corpse.

He shifted his attention to the masked person, hoping the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead would go unnoticed. "...Is this what you wanted? To set fire to innocent civilians?"

"Innocent in what capacity?" they said. "Sapping society of a living? Marring the economy and deepening the Depression? You consider that innocent?"

The question confused Cal for a moment before he realized what was happening. "What part do the hotel staff have to play in that? They're just trying to make a living like anyone else."

"These people are a cancer," the masked person spat, jerking the gun in the direction of the guest's body on the floor. "And the ones working for them are even worse for providing their services. Why don't you understand?" Something dawned over what little could be seen of their face. "...I wish you'd understand."

"Don't," Cal growled in warning as the masked person cocked the hammer back on their pistol and pressed the muzzle once again into Sol's skull.

Cal lifted his gun and fired. The shot downed the person instantly, catching them between the eyes. Sol stumbled, nearly taking a header down the stairs before Cal lunged at him and pressed him backward, away from the bodies.

"Police are waiting outside," Cal said hoarsely. "Where are the hostages?"

"Top...top floor," Sol stammered. He looked at Cal as if seeing him for the first time. "There's a fire up there."

"Get outside," Cal ordered, taking Sol's hand in a firm grip and carefully turning him toward the front doors. "Stay with the cops. Stay safe."

"I won't leave you." Sol's eyes, not as swollen as they could've been, welled. He swallowed thickly. "I...don't want to leave you."

Cal's chest filled with something he couldn't decipher. A feeling of dread, something strong and intense, rotten and sour and warm and wonderful. His brow furrowed and he found his brain wouldn't form recognizable thoughts at first. All he could see when he looked at Sol was the anger and desperation in his face the last time they spoke. Despite their previous lighthearted interactions, Cal suspected Sol truly hated him in that moment, and he couldn't fathom ever seeing the expression of terror and worry on his face that he saw right now.

"I'm sorry," Cal whispered, squeezing Sol's hand. "For everything."

Sol stepped forward and drew Cal into a gentle, tentative, yet irrecoverable kiss. Then another one. But it was all quick, too quick, and Cal used the hand holding his weapon to swipe at his mouth when he stepped away.

"Get out of here before I have to let the cops shoot me," Cal said gruffly. "Will you go if I promise to make it out of here in one piece?"

Sol, fat tears streaming down his contused face and wrenching Cal's heart into a painful twist, nodded. "Go. Be careful."

Cal sniffed and swept through the doors leading onto the second floor, running through the hotel until he reached the blazing inferno on the second to last floor. To his surprise and relief, the guests were already there, hurrying down the stairs and obeying every direction Cal gave them. The group going down ran into the fire brigade going up.

"About damn time," Cal muttered on their way past.

"Wanna deal with the dead people or you want us to do that, too?" the fire captain retorted.

Cal let loose a surprised laugh painted with mild hysteria, ushering the guests and staff the rest of the way down the stairs.

The cops piled in to pull the civilians out of harm's way, ambulance attendants wrapping blankets around them and hurrying them to safety.

Cal pivoted to look back at the hotel, which, from that angle, looked unremarkable and untouched. Only when he backed up could he see the smoke rising from the top.

In doing so, he nearly bowled over Sol, who took his wrist and ran with him across the street, through the park, and under a bridge. The place was empty due to the crowd that had formed at the hotel, and Sol shivered violently under his blanket as he peered up at Cal with big, injured eyes.

"I figured they'd be angry at you," Sol said. "And I'm entitled to be angry at you, too, not just for what you did today, but after this..." He shook his head, gaze lingering on Cal's face. "It all feels so silly now."

"It's not silly." Cal realized he'd been holding the gun up to that point and he hastily opened his trench coat to holster it under his arm. "I needled you for quite a while. I wouldn't blame you for hating my guts by now."

"If something happened to you in that hotel, I wouldn't have been able to withstand the pain." Sol tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "...How could I hate someone who made me want to kiss them goodbye?"

Cal stared down at him, surprised once again. "Would you want to...kiss me hello?"

Sol looked as if he wanted to laugh and burst into tears simultaneously. He reached up to grasp Cal's face and brought him down, locking their lips together in a genuine, tender kiss that jellified Cal's knees and stole his breath from his lungs. Cal reciprocated, holding him close and gingerly as if Sol were fragile, and Cal decided he was very glad he didn't have to be shot by his colleagues after all.

#ockiss24 #Misfortunate Sol #surely not me forgetting the name of the hotel and if I even had one for it yet lmao #it will likely change in any case #I'm in a hurry so while I'm proud of this piece it's not the best it could've been had I been able to sit down and really write this out

[spokewar]

A study in Obi-Wan's homeworld, Stewjon:

Stewjon, pronounced "stah-yon", is a strangely backwater planet located in the heart of the galaxy.

The first thing you will notice about Stewjon is that it's wet. There is no ocean, but lakes and ponds cover most of the land, and the air itself is filled with a dense fog, so thick that it almost makes the planet look uninhabited. And it might not seem like it, but Stewjon does have a sun - in fact, the sun is its only celestial body and it slowly eats away at the fog throughout the day until it sets! The planet has no moon to speak of, which would leave the nights pitch black if not for the stars that are visible for several hours until the fog thickens again. Since Stewjon is located in the center of the Deep Core, the sky is packed with stars, illuminating the surface with an indigo glow.

Stewjon has two seasons. the first season is referred to as Teraèile and is the half of the year where fog covers the ground during the day and then dissipates at night. Most of this season is cold and wet, mostly seeing rain or mist, and on occasion, a sunny (yet still frigid) day. The second season is Noèile and this season is a very dangerous time to be on the planet's surface as the sun is much closer to it and does not set at all, making it too hot and dry to sustain life for an extended period of time.

During Noèile, it seems like the Stewjoni people simply vanish, but they actually move to their underground communities to survive the season. There is a deep cave system under Stewjon's surface that is host to its capital city, Luma. It operates as a normal city, just underground. Luma is mostly home to the richer and political families, some whom spend the whole year down there rather than moving every season. The more modest folk live in the branching tunnels which are covered in glowing plant life. There are beaches, fauna, and plenty of areas you could call "the boonies" in these tunnels and they see a lot of recreational use through Noèile.

The best time to be on Stewjon is during Fire Nights, a holiday to signal the end of the harvest season and to start getting ready to head underground. This is a week long event where the night sky is naturally lit up by brilliant red lights and is celebrated with bonfires, parties, and lots of drinking.

The second thing you will notice about Stewjon is that despite itself, it is not a dark planet. In darkness, everything shines. The stars illuminate what is mean to be a long and dark night, the deep caves are alight with glowing plant life, and even its people have properties that allow them to both see and glow in the dark.

Stewjoni people are humanoids and what you would expect from a planet that hardly sees any sunlight, their skin is pasty white (some more ghostly than others) with hair colors typically ranging from shades of pink, red, orange, blonde, grey, and white.

Their most unusual characteristics are their eye color, bioluminescent markings, and pointed ears.

Stewjoni eye colors are varying shades green, blue, purple, and red. They are different from baseline human eyes in that the iris and sclera are the same color with the iris typically being the darker shade of the two and the sclera being slightly more muted.

However, in darkness, their eye structure changes. The iris takes on a slight glow and the sclera darkens to a solid black, this allows the Stewjoni people to see in the dark and help navigate the more rural parts of their cave systems.

A person's bioluminescent markings reflect their eye color, and the pattern and amount of markings will vary depending on their family. People who come from old money tend to glow more in the dark because their families have spent generations upon generations in the underground. Meanwhile, most common folk will have only smatterings of glowing marks around their bodies. Typically, the more a person glows in the dark, the more likely it is they come from a lineage who mostly lived in the underground. And the less, the poorer. The markings are respondent to light; in daylight they are shades of natural browns and tans (in rare cases, white), but they react to dim light or darkness by shifting color and emitting a faint glow.

Stewjon has a noticeable difference between economic classes. People who live on the surface for half the year tend to be working class. There is a heavy agricultural presence with their main export being native vegetation. The roughest part of the year for these people is when they have to move underground and are on a budget or taking odd jobs to last through the season.

The underground communities are usually very well kept and clean, whereas the structures on the planet's surface tend to be a little more weathered and overrun with nature since beating back the wildlife seems like a waste of time when there is more important work to do. This doesn't make the cities ugly by any means, rather it just makes a more natural blend between nature and urban areas. Technology is slow to improve on Stewjon, they have a modern society and advanced farming equipment, but are not known for their ships or space travel. In fact, it is very rare for Stewjoni people to ever leave the planet. It is equally rare for expats of other planets to take up residence there either due to their extreme weather and seasons. Because of this, Stewjon has very few relations with its neighboring planets outside of export and the Stewjoni people tend to either fear or not acknowledge the rest of the galaxy altogether.

Traditional Stewjoni clothing consists of animal pelts and so many layers because it's always fucking cold and people don't want to die. Common folk do not possess any fancy clothing and even the rich have very few luxury items. Stewjoni farming culture is extremely ancient and the people take pride in harvesting their own materials for threads and linings. They have specialized weaving techniques that no one outside of their culture knows.

Also, there are not monsters that exclusively come out during the foggy part of night so don't worry about it.

#everyone get ready to see this post a lot #obi's headcanon tag #stewjon lore tag

[prosekaipng]

Transparents Masterlist

Warning: Nothing here belongs to me. VOCALOID & CiA belongs to Crypton Media & Colorful Palette. This blog is made for non comercial use. This blog is no longer active! Thanks for all the support!

>> Another blog for proseka transparents: Sekai Transparents

By star: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 By set: Initial - Birthday - Colorful Festival - 3RD ANN By year: 2019 - 2020 - 2021 - 2022 - 2023 Special: Deadly Sins of Evil Stickers: EN - JP  Others: gif card - PROJECT VOLTAGE - SANRIO COLLAB

>>> Groups:

Virtual Singer  > [ Miku - Luka - Rin - Len - Meiko - Kaito ]

LEO/NEED > [ Ichika - Saki - Shiho - Honami ]

MORE MORE JUMP! > [ Minori - Haruka - Airi - Shizuku ]

Vivid BAD SQUAD > [ Kohane - An - Akito - Toya ]

WonderlandsxShowtime > [ Tsukasa - Emu - Nene - Rui ]

25-ji, Night Code de. > [ Kanade - Mafuyu - Ena - Mizuki ]

>>> Events:

Stella After the Rain

Imprisoned Marionette

Full Power! Wonder Halloween!!

Run! Sports Festival! ~The Executive Committee is Very Busy~

Let's RE:START from Here!

Someday, with Our Lyrics Joined Back-to-Back

KAMI HIGH FESTIVAL!

On a Holy Night, with This Singing Voice

Sekai's Happy New Year!

Through Wavering, You Continue Moving Forward

Color of Myself!

Period of NOCTURNE

Resounding Twilight Parade

Unsatisfied Pale Color

Smile of Dreamer

The Tenma Household's Hinamatsuri

Let’s Deliver! HOPEFUL STAGE♪

Singing With You in A World Where Cherry Blossoms Dance

Secret Distance

Resonate with you

STRAY BAD DOG

Tell me your problems! Exciting Picnic

Break Time for the Hardworking You!

A Song of Vows For You, Dressed in Pure White!

Wonder Magical Showtime!

Carnation Recollection

Unnamed Harmony

Awakening Beat

Ringing Sounds at the Summer Festival

This’ll Definitely Be the Best Summer!

Happy Lovely Everyday!

Mesmerized by Mermaids

The Two Moon Rabbits

Knock the Future!!

Mirage of Lights

Scramble Fan Festa!

Bout for Beside You

CW: Revival my dream

My Footprints, Your Destination

Unwavering Feelings, Now Put Into Words

Buddy・Funny・Spend Time ♪

Intersecting Melodies, Glowing Warmth

MOREMOREMakingXmas

Same Dreams, Same Colors

Beyond Prayers, the Tomorrow We Wish for Is...

POP IN MY HEART!!

Someday, From the Depths of Despair

Operation ♡ Secret Valentine!

Legend still vivid

That Day, the Sky Was Far Away

The Gentleman Thief's Thrilling White Day!?

Cast Spell on You

On This Blank Canvas, I Paint ...

Cherry Blossoms Across Sekai, Interconnecting Our Feelings

On the stage of dazzling light

Live with memories

Connecting Painful Hope

Incandescent! Kamitaka cheering party!

THE POWER OF UNITY

Wishing for Your Happiness Upon the Blue Sky!

Guiding a Lost Child to What Lies Beyond

A Desperate Situation!? Island Panic!

Let's Enjoy Together! Spojoy Park!

The Vivid Old Tale

NO Seek NO Find

Close game/OFFLINE

Chasing the Radiance Beyond the Blue Sky

And Now Tie a Ribbon

Don't lose faith!

Paint What You Love ♪ Rainbow Canvas

Walk On and On

The Twilight Color on this Festival

Dear My Past Self

A Sorrowful Farewell at the Curtain Call

Scream!? Welcome to the Wolf Forest!

ECHO my MELODY

Someday, this Wish will Transcend the Morning Sky

Beyond the Dream on That Day

Find a Way Out

Draw Your Bow in This White World

A Brand New Year! Lion Dance Robot's New Year's Show!

Amidst a Dream, Towards the Shining Stars

Little Bravers!

Memories Carried by the Scent of Candles

At the End of the Unraveled Threads

Kick it up a notch

Never give up cooking!

Towards the Phoenix at the Sky’s Edge

Immiscible Discord

In the Corner of a Resonant Town

Get OVER it

Re-tie friendship

Our survival escape

One-Day Trip Before Setting Sail

The Canary Sings in a Quagmire

Standing Next to the Kind and Gentle You

Light Up the Fire

STEP by STEP!

A Once-In-A-Lifetime Pandemonium!?

Saying Goodbye to my PERSONA

Connected by our STELLAR Song

Hectic Cafe ●REC!

On Your Feet

Our Happy Ending

Let Your Song Resound Throughout the SEKAI!

Weaving Precious Memories With You

Let's Study Hard!

Hello・Good・Day!

BURN MY SOUL

Stick to your faith

the warmth that guides us

Searching for a Reflection Beneath the Waters

#masterlist #off

[neighawolf]

The Silver Souls (meet my beans)

Okay Pinned post time! You’re not here for me, so let’s just get to my beans.  (There’s a few, so bear with me. Pictures for your perception lol) The Silver Souls A group formed by Alexandria and Sorn’daer shortly after the events of Carteneau. Consisting of gathered allies, both echo blessed and not, the Silver Souls are an adventuring and mercenary group with skills ranging from domestic, monster hunting, knowledge gathering and crafting. The Silver Souls eventually met up with the likes of The Scions of the Silver Dawn, forming a powerful allegiance of primal hunting mercenaries, intelligent Archons of renown, and diplomats. The combined force of fighters, thinkers, and support brought together nations, brought low powerful foes of old, and ended the Final Days before their “dissolution” and “retirement”. Many of the members found themselves in romantic relationships and are still occasionally found together.

Rornir Augurelt

Rornir is the current head and face of the Silver Souls. He is an echo blessed Warrior of Light whose echo allows him to sense or feel, as well as manipulate, emotions. Hailing from the wilds Yanxia and the bank of the One River, Rornir Augurelt was born ‘Habiki Katsumoto’. He was a prophecised heir to a world renowned criminal syndicate which operated heavily in Othard and Kugane. His parents sold him to a woman in Dalmasca as an attempt to free him of the burden and zealotry of his clan. His name, Habiki, means echo. He was thought to be a prophecy which would see his clan rise in power. After his parents sold him, his jealous uncle had them killed and hunted ‘Habiki’ down. By the time his uncle found him, Rornir had chosen his own name and fled a far worse ‘home’ than that of his birth. He joined his family’s organization, become one of the most skilled assassins and earned many nicknames including ‘Yanxian Yurei” “Othard Oni” and “Kugane Obake”. He discovered the truth of his parent’s death and turned from his clan and fleeing to the steppes. There he met a small but fierce Au ri dragoon named Mizuki. The two became fast friends and travelled to Gridania together, where they would eventually join the Silver Souls. Rornir was hesitant to join the Scions, being a viera in such a strange land where strangers were treated unwarmly. He was welcomed, however, with open arms and revered for his unique perspectives. He was thankful for the allies and support during the siege of Doma, where he reclaimed his birth place and returned home. During the events of the First, he fell in love with the resident book keeper, astrologian, and archon Urianger Augurelt. The two remain happily married and enjoy their small space ship moon of small bunny children. 

Alexandria Knighte

A founding member of the Silver Souls, Alexandria is an echo blessed warrior. Though her circumstances are far more unique than her allies. Alex is a Warrior of Darkness. Created through a struggled life. Her echo allows her to see, touch and speak with the dead and the Aetherial Sea. She is also the sundered soul of the Ancient, Azem. Alex was born in Kholusia on the reflection simple named, The First. She had a younger brother and sister, her mother was a prominent archeologist and historian and her father was a master alchemist. The family lived on a large farm and apple orchard. Her mother was also known as a witch, an intimidating and fierce but kind woman. Alex and her family were well respected and adored. Until the flood of light swept across the land. She was the lone survivor of her family, at the young age of 9. She was saved by a young boy and grew up in and out of homes until one day the sky caught fire and a voice filled her mind. She grew up as a hardened mercenary and lived most of her life alone. After a difficult mission, she sought out aid from another loner and weird man. She lost one of her legs to a blighted attack.Her leg was removed to prevent spreading. She thought her adventuring career was ended, until her mission companion revealed he was a master smith and had an artificial arm. He worked with her to build her a leg and the two soon fell in love. To her surprise they also had a child. But that didn’t last long. On her child’s 9th birthday, a wave of sineaters atacked. Her child was struck down, her husband died protecting her child and she was once again alone. She cursed ‘benevolent’ being who granted her life, again and again while always taking things from her. In her sorrow, she threw her self from the highest cliffs of Kholusia. She found her self floating in the aetherial sea, the voices of her loved ones calling for her. But Hydaelyn had need of her still, and Alex woke up on a ship in a strange new land. She met Sorn’daer, the elezen who rescued her. Sorn’daer is now her brother in law, married to a shard of her sister, who is also echo blessed but not an adventurer. She is in a romantic relationship with Thancred Waters, who is the soulmate sundered shard of Azem and Darion, and a shard of her husband from the first.

Sorn’daer Vic’Szraen

Archon and Professor, Sorn’daer Vic’szraen is a well known and renowned Mage. A Warrior of Light later in his years, Sorn’daer is a master of Aether, Void and Forbidden Magics including his specialty, Mhach. He has the ability to perceive glimpses of thought and memory. Sorn’daer grew up deep underground in and around ruins of Gelmorra. His family was less than enthusiastic about his birth and treated him with disdain. The only family he really had was his sister, Ril’Ria and his aunt. His aunt was a well know children’s author and a large inspiration for his academic studies into mythology and magic. After helping him and his sister escape, Sorn’daer’s aunt was killed for treason. Sorn and his sister fled their home with no destination in mind and found themselves, after years of traveling, on the home island of Sharlayan. He applied himself with fierce dedication and became a highly praised student and eventually earning himself title of archon and teaching at the Sharlayan Studium. He was even offered a seat on the forum, which he turned down due to their increasingly stringent rules and restrictions. He stuck to his own studies and formed a group of like minded scholars, including some from Sharlayan, to study the depths of Mhachi, Void, and Dark Magic. When his studies were deemed “restricted” and “forbidden” he left Sharlayan, saying “Magic is not inherently evil, but its will is determined by those who weild it. to give fear to it, you give power to those who would wield it for evil while denying its knowledge to counter it.” He left and set sail for faraway seas. On his journey, a dangerous storm took his ship and a woman was found overboard. He helped rescue the woman, named Alexandria, who claimed to be not from this world. He was intrigued by her claims and aided her in settling into her new world. They found each other working similar jobs more than a few times and agreed to work together, becoming close friends and eventually forming a mercenary group. He has since published several books on his studies and applications of aether. He has trained and obtained any ‘jobstone’ associated with “mage” and stranger applications of aether, such as a Machinist’s Aetherbox, a gunbreaker’s aether charges, and pacts with a voidsent as a Reaper. He trades many notes with the Alchemists of Radz-at-Han and the scion Y’sthola. He is married and a father of one.

B’astille ‘Bastian’ Tia

Bastian, as he prefers, is a mostly solitary man, and the most reclusive of the Silver Souls. An echo blessed Warrior of Light, Bastian’s talents and skills lie in his exceptional senses. More than just an adept hunter, Bastian uses his echo to hear, smell, track and hunt the most elusive of foes. B’astille hailed from a wandering B tribe of miqo’te throughout the Ala Mhigan and Gridanian border. His father was a disgusting man who rule by fear and other nefarious means. He forbid reading, kept his clan on mind numbing drugs until they developed a dependency and resorted to unseemly means when it came to breeding. B’astille was being taught to take his father’s place, but even in his training he sense the jealousy of his father, that someone else might take the place of everything he’d built. But Bastian didn’t want any of that. He befriended a young girl who had been determined too sickly and weak to remain in the clan. They became best friends and he often snuck out to give her food and talk to her. Bastian refused to kill or mate when he father told him. After a tense argument regarding Bastian’s virginity, he fled his home and never looked back. He and his childhood friend fled and developed a romantic relationship. But sickness and her frailty robbed them of a future together. Bastian lived on his own for over a decade, his only friend being a chocobo he’d rescued in his youth who had returned the favour some years later. Lady Heluva was his best friend. He was pretty feral and wildling, fearing most other ‘civilized’ societies were like his own. He preferred the company of animals, especially birds. Then the sky caught fire, a voice spoke to him, and he watched the red moon, Dalamud, crash into the grounds. A surge of mercenaries and Garleans caused him to seek saftey in other woods, leading him back to Gridania where he was captured. He was accused of being a spy, but once he confused to not being able to read, let alone his very wildling attire, he was released. He was so unaccustomed with civilized life, the city was confusing and he ended up in prison by accident. a mysterious masked man and a rather energetic au ri woman rescued him and offered him a place within their group, the Silver Souls. He was hailed for his skills in hunting, hand crafting, survival and mapping. He is well loved, despite being very reclusive, and he is thankful for his many friends who help him learn to read and adapt to civilized life, especially the newest scion and one of his first real friends, G’raha Tia. They are happily in a relationship. the first words he ever wrote, with G’raha’s help was his own name and “I love G’raha.” He still prefers the wilds and birds over people, and is learning more about his culture and people as a miqo’te.

R’aurora Vanih

The youngest of the Silver Souls, staring her journey at only 16 years old, R’aurora is arguably the most intelligent Warrior of Lights in the group. Her echo blessing allows her to process information not unlike a machine and she has eidetic memory, meaning she remembers things in extreme clarity. She is an autistic savant, struggling with normal everyday things, but her mind rivals that of the ancient Allagans. R’Aurora Vanih was born in Corvos, during another of the island’s exoduses by the Garleans. She never met her mother, as her mother died in premature childbirth. Her father tried his best to teach her as much about her mother as he could. Her mother had come from a clan of miqo’te who protected ancient Allagan ruins and information, blood running in the veins of the family. Her birth was met with mixed feelings as she had one bright red eye. None knew what to make of it, nor did any have the time to ponder such musings, given the Garlean situation at the time of her birth. she was separated from her father at only the age of 5. During a panic and rushing of crowd, her father lost hold of her and she was ushered on a ship leaving for Sharlayan. She arrived, alone, and when none claimed her, she was sent to the orphanage. When she was caught creating a machine from scrapes and disassembled things, she was tested and immediately had families interested in funding her education, that she might be a boon for Sharlayan, even at such a young age. Her autistic mind led to her teacher’s frustrations and none had the patience to help her. She was discarded, with disappointment, after she had argued another student’s thesis work on Allagan culture. After being told that “Archon G’raha Tia” was a foremost in his field and she’d given sufficient evidence to the contrary, she was shipped off to Limsa Lominsa. A young miqo’te found her crying alone at the end of the docks and brought her to his own adoptive Lalafellian parents and she was immediately taken home. She grew up in Ul’dah with loving Lalafel parents and an incredibly loving and patient miqo’te older brother. her genius was appreciated in ul’dah, as her mind was a power processor for numbers and memory. Her mother, a terrifyingly sweet and scary member of the Ul’dah syndicate was very protective of anyone who tried to use R’Aurora’s mind. When R’aurora complained one day of a terrible headache, the sky on fire, and voices in her head, many in Ul’dah suggested she be sent to an institution. But Sera, her older brother, sought others and found aid in the Silver Souls. One of its founding members, Alexandria, took a very motherly protective approach with R’aurora, stating that she reminded her of her own daughter. R’aurora is skilled with many talents, but because of her age many in the Silver Souls and the Scions prefered to keep her in a support and information role, but she has helped delevoped new technology for the group and submited patents for many new machines and allagan updates. She currently works in the Garlond Ironworks, the Students of Baldesion, the Ishgardian Skysteel Manufactury and runs a lo-fi radio station which reaches out to Garlemald now.

Sesera Sera

A strange name for a miqo’te, but Sera has made his family proud. One of the members of the Silver Souls who is not echo blessed or a Warrior of Light, Sesera is often considered the “Group Mom”. His skills like more in the domestic and diplomatic. From cooking, cleaning, getting everyone to bed on time and securing new work or working with prominent figures on behalf of the Silver Souls, Sera ensures success of his group behind the scenes. Abandoned mere days after his birth and found in a back alley of Ul’dah near death, Sesera Sera never knew his birth parents. He currently has no interest in knowing either, his true family are the lalafells who adopted him. His father a previous reigning champion of the Blood Sands and his mother a promiment and terrifying figure on the Ul’dahn syndicate. His father is a stern and hardened man, but a patient and kind soul. Sera learned a lot from him and highly respects his father. His mother, despite her status in Ul’dahn society, is a kind and gentle soul towards her family. The two were unable to conceive of the own and consider Sera a gift from the Trader, Nald’thal, himself. They lived a relatively simple life, with hardly any notable mentions outside of Sera’s status in the Blood Sands. Sera’s father was happy to step down from Champion when Sera beat him in combat. It was a proud day for both of them. Sera met his sister, R’aurora during a family trip to Limsa Lominsa, where his mother had unofficial business to tend to. He found a young, scared and crying miqo’te girl crying on the dock, and watched with growing anger as people just walked past her or gossiped as they moved around her. He carefully approached the young girl and offered her water, food, or something to wash her face at least. She turned them all down. He bought a wind up toy from a nearby vendor and handed it to her. He watched as, like a switch, the crying girl stopped and analyzed the toy like one of the maniacs at the Goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah. She smiled at him and he knew he wanted to her big brother. So he found his parents, the immediately agreed and the family returned home. They continued their simple, quiet life in Ul’dah until his adopted sister, R’aurora, complained of a headache, firey skies and voices in her head. While others in the city were quick to judge and suggest institutionalising her, Sera asked his mother for some of her contacts and eventually got in contact with members of the Silver Souls who explained R’aurora was a Warrior of Light. He’s never known peace sense. He struggles keeping up with the group, not being a powerful hero of legend, but they are always in awe of him, standing toe to toe with them, *without* any blessing. He is currently in a relationship with the leader of Ishgard, Aymeric de Borel and with the Scions’ foremost mage, Y’sthola.

Mizuki Mizunoko

Mizuki is what many would call a “gremlin”. An energetic, enthusiastic, and a bit wild member of the Silver Souls, Mizuki Mizunoko is an Au ri warrior from a mostly unknown tribe high up in the Azim Steppes. While she is neither echo blessed or a Warrior of Light, her fighting prowess is enough to even give dragons pause. Mizu was born in a clan of au ri with a special allegience. Born of a clan chieftan, 7 mothers, and well over 8 or 9 bothers, she was the only girl. She was far from a princess though, always quick to join a playful fight, go hunting with her father, and even sneaking out to play with the dragonlings allied with her clan. Her clan has a long and historic pact with dragon, dating all the way back to the myth of Shiva and Hraesvelgr. They have carried on a long storied relationship with dragons. In what Ishgard would call heresy, an Auri warrior and a dragon form a blood pact, in exchange for strength, power, resistence, and a longer life. Mizu, and her dragon bond, Miyu, can see through each other’s eyes, communicate telepathically and have the ability to shape shift. Mizu can look more elezen and Miyu can turn into a chocobo. The pair are deadly in combat, though Miyu tends to be fairly lazy. Mizu featured prominently during the events of the Dragon Song War. She was very careful with Miyu in and around Ishgard. She and the dragoon, Estinien Wyrmblood had a very rocky start, but have since become good friends. Her expertise in dragonkind, and especially the story of Shiva and Hraesvelgr, aided the ending of the war as she and Miyu proved man and dragon could still be allies. When the scions and the Echo blessed of the Silver Souls were taken, it was Mizu and Sera who held the fronts at home. Other than her pact with her dragon, a gift in itself, she boasts no extra ordinary powers or skills and is still in the top of the fighters between the Silver Souls and the Scions. She is steadily learning to settle down, finding herself in a relationship with the Dark Knight of Ishgard, Sidurgu Orl and their shared ward, Rielle.

Saoirse Toussaint

Archon and Theologist, Saoirse Toussaint is Sharlayan born and raised. She is neither echo blessed nor a warrior of light. She is a student of theology, mythology and studies the stars and deities. She featured most promimently during the events of Ishagrd. She set forth from Sharlayan on her thesis work on the study of regional astrology and its applications. She had many quarrels with the uses in Ishgard being only for combat and dragons. She departed shortly after the end of the war, not one for glorified pomp or celebrations. She returned briefly to the Silver Souls employ during the seige of Doma, gaining more insight from the Geomancer of Othard, the Eastern equivalent of Astrology. Upon freeing both Doma and Ala Mhigo, Saoirse returned to Sharlay to complete her thesis and earn her Archon’s mark. Throughout her journey, she and the Ishgardian Dragoon had many close encounters and near connections, each time one or the other was busy or arguing. When the Silver Souls were torn from their bodies, Saoirse returned to offer her friends aid and apply her considerable skills as a healer and her knowledge of stars and constellations that might aid in any attempt to travel between worlds or conjure some means of finding them. She worked closely with Krile, Tataru and Master Matoya to keep the Silver Souls and Scions’ aether in check and heal any wounds from the front. She joined the scions more officially around the same time as Estinien and the two are still fledglings in their earnest relationship.

#ffxiv #ffxiv gpose #original character #OC #Final fantasy #character introduction #character lore #final fantasy 14 #free company #silver souls

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1944 10 Rocket Attack - Nicolas Trudgian

It required more than a little nerve to fly a fighter into the barrage of fire sprayed out by the gunners of a box of B17 bombers; it took even greater courage to do so in the rocket propelled Me163 Komet. With rocket science still in its infancy, these small aircraft were still in the experimental stage, and piloting what amounted to a flying bomb was in itself a perilous business, let alone flying them into combat. But these were desperate times. The day and night bombing assault on Germany was bringing the mighty war machine to its knees, and aything that might help stem the tide was thrown into battle. Powered by a mixture of two highly volatile chemicals, the slightest leak, or heavy landing could cause a huge explosion, and the mix was so corrosive that in the event of even a minor accident, the pilot could literally be dissolved. Sitting in a cramped cockpit, surrounded by dangerous chemicals and ammunition, the intrepid aviator would be launched into the sky on what was, at best, a four minute mission. After, hopefully, engaing the enemy, he would glide powerlessly back to the nearest airfield to be refuelled so as to attempt the hazardous operation all over again. Though limited to a handful of victories, the Komet did make the Allied crews wonder what else the Luftwaffe had hidden up its sleeve, and had the distinction of being the forerunner of aircraft technology that eventually took aircraft into space. Capable of nearly 600mph and climbing to 30,000ft in less than two minutes, this tiny rocket propelled Me163 Komet was typical of Germany's ingenuity in its desperate attempts to stem the havoc being wreaked by the USAAFs daylight bombers.

#nicolas trudgian

[colecassiidy]

Runaway Turned Thief, His First Horse, and its Consequences.

Cole's first horse after the razing of his hometown is a dark bay no-spot appaloosa mare. She's built for long distance riding, and bursts of extreme speed for outrunning trouble. While she can go quite aways, there is definitely a lack of stamina in maintaining a sprint in comparison to a fully committed race horse.

He steals her from two drug mulers who had been camping out in the wilderness. This is where he ends up with most of his supplies that he keeps with him 'til Deadlock, including a second revolver to go with his first, a analog hunting rifle that he uses extensively for hunting and self-sustenance, and dressing knives. (Before then, he had a bed roll that was on its way out, carried in a ragged pack, a multi-tool, a foldable knife, and a water bladder; one extra set of clothes. Having a horse allowed him to pack greater inventory, travel further, and carry more quality of life items such as a wire set to cook over fires, rope, etc. Etc. In the case of meeting @/quick-drawn, she also allowed him to pack game to bring back home.)

He is on the verge of becoming 12, having left the orphanages some months prior (having been inducted into the system at 11 and spending time being tossed around for about 6-8 months). The whole debacle is a bit of a shit show with him waiting for the dark of night, pressed flat to the ground on his stomach amidst the cover of large rock and sage bush rooting between the crevices. He is, at this point, learning to be a little more clever with his thefts, scoping out the individuals, the layout of the camp (but fails at this time to consider escape plans, terrain.)

Sky turns indigo, then a void of black fractured by the salt-scatter of stars. Fire's died out to embers and the men retire to their tents. Cole scrapes himself up to his feet, scurries down the path tied between hasty and careful and rifles through their supplies like a shambling animal that's wandered someplace it don't belong. He ransacks ammunitions, the aforementioned firearms, some cans of food and a flask engorged with gin, amongst an assortment of other things; gathers and piles them up in the saddle bags on the Appaloosa.

Men start rousing as he's on the tail end of packing - the one stirring with a need to take a piss - and the little heist becomes a smash-and-grab operation where he's cutting the reins with a knife and blasting down the mountainside as they start yelling and searching for their firearms.

Later on, when it's deemably safe and he's lost them, he rummages through her saddle bags and finds papers reading Honeysuckle and his face scrunches up sour. Amber-brown eyes dart up from crinkled black print to the dark pits of the horse's. "Y'don't seem like a Honeysuckle."

He doesn't know why, but the name Maria falls off his tongue much easier. Fits her features more, he thinks. (It is, absolutely, a lapse back into his religious roots. Finding the name like a prayer, which he utters in both thanks and apology. Most of all, the significance just falls down to lyrics of Plastic Jesus: Goin' 90 I ain't scary, 'cos I got the Virgin Mary assurin' me I won't go to hell.)

She's a playful mare, likes to 'sneak up' on him while he's turned away despite the very obvious noise of her shoes hitting the ground. Likes to nuzzle her head into his neck, or knock into his back, set his hat off-kilter. Loves hoofing at creek/river/brook water - though that's a learned habit when he decided to splash at her on a non-eventful, idyllic day at a lakeside shore. Steady girl - he'll call her lady, sometimes. There are days where he'll share a beer with her, too.

He is somewhere in the throes of 13 when he unfortunately re-crosses paths with his victims. It's serendipity on their end, an accidental run-in out in the wilderness near an ol' gutted hunting lodge. The owners recognize Honeysuckle and they sneak up on him like he'd done with them, except instead of running off with a horse and materials, they put a gun to him and have him flag up his hands. They don't know what to do with him (there's an additional man to the original duo) and they murmur amongst themselves in Spanish after beating him to the ground and tying him up; they converse like this thinking the boy can't understand.

There's not a lot going for them to toss him towards a lawman; not a lot of pretty coin for a petty thief, not in these days where the economy and infrastructure's been starved out to a post-war drought. One of them suggests killing him out back. There's nothing really stopping them, and they could re-collect their stolen goods and continue on their way. They'd lost money because of the kid's stunt, lost out on 50% of what they could mule with only 1 horse instead of two.

Third man finally says, Sell him. Some place beyond the border where English is just a rumored language spoken only on tv sets. Labor camps need more hands. Sold men are cheaper than the free ones. He gets his reckoning, we make-up our money and then some.

In English, they tell him that in ancient times the law would have his hands severed from the wrists for theft and they knot up the binds on his hands aggressively tight to prove the point.

And then they'd travelled South, days piling into days. The ribbed rope would gnaw the skin raw, chafing towards bone like it's trying to eat him alive, and the entire thing leaves his wrists risking sepsis and scars; bloody, mangled.

they're stopped by in some post-war abandoned location along the way to rest that's filled with rusty tools and broken beer bottles. Some sort of logging warehouse. Cole finds a shitty piece of glass on a countertop and palms it; clenches his hands around it even when it threatens to nip cuts and draw blood. The men get ready for bed. Cole starts sawing at rope fibers. One of the men check up on him while he's just about free - the binds snapping loose as he realizes something isn't quite right.

Cole doesn't know where the guns are; his hands are in too much pain to aim straight anyway. First man goes down with Cole tackling him right into exposed pipes, gritty sawblades. Commotion brings the other two out: one tries to grab him from behind, while the other moves to sling a punch to the gut. Cole kicks wildly, butts his head into the nose of the man who's got hands on him. He's dropped to the floor. His knees ache from impact but it's his wrists that are screaming and he chokes out a strangled noise of pain, blearily grabbing at a slaughtered beer bottle that he's landed right next to.

Man in front of him's had enough, is going for his gun when Cole launches up into him with the bottle in hand. The serated glass punctures cheek flesh, into an eye socket. Man screams. Cole reels the glass back and keeps jamming it back down - and his face is soaked by the gore of it. The screams stop coming, and there's a thick hand that gloves around his shoulder. By some blind, desperate instinct, his other hand has found the handle of the dead man's gun when he is swung around with a fist cracking into his jaw. The glass bottle crashes into the floor. A gunshot spears the air. A third body cripples to the floor, blood guttering from the stomach. He spits on them, staggering to his feet: hablo español, hijo de puta - ir a la mierda.

He shambles out from the building, doused in blood, brain matter, and tries to put on a brave face, but he starts breaking down and ends up mumbling in a sort of low-key hysterics to maria "im sorry, im sorry, im sorry" -- doesn't know what he's apologizing for, that he stole her, that he killed her previous owners, that he's alive. Between the adrenaline and everything crashing in all at once, it's the first time he's reduced to tears since the times before the war.

Exhausted, he falls asleep outside. Leaves the men as is and weakly cuts their horses free (too tired by it all, he doesn't think to search their pockets for money, to rifle through saddle bags before releasing their mounts.) It's a mistake, because the news will later search for the horse owners, talk about a bloody horror scene found in the stomach of a logging complex. But, until then, the next few days are of travel, trying to find a main road while his wrists are pounding hellfire.

He ends up stumbling into a gas station in the middle of bumfuck nowhere looking like road kill. The attendant is startled right out of his seat as Cole walks up to him and shoves forward a fistful of ruddy-colored bills.

His voice rattles like pennies in a rusted gutter; tinny, scraping. He croaks, "I got some money for a band-aid and some rubbin' alcohol."

Man thinks this kid's been in a motor vehicle collision, says, "Kid you're going to need a lot more than just a band-aid" as he unlatches the medical kit from the wall. He seats Cole down on a plastic foldable chair, patches him up free-of-charge to the best of his ability the way a gas station attendant can offer. Man adds in a pair of gloves to make sure the gauze don't shift around too much. Man asks questions.

Where's your parents? What happened?

Cole says war got them. That he got into an accident.

Man tries to have Cole clean up in the bathroom, says there's snacks waiting outside while he phones for the police. Cole washes up, peels off his clothes for the last set he's got, and pockets the medical supplies the man had been using. He walks off, leaving the bathroom -- just does not come back inside -- and hitches back onto Maria and starts to ride off before anyone can come.

He leaves a few crumpled dollar bills on the sink.

#Hc: youth #hc: head up in the clouds;; #Hc: history #this too has been sitting in my drafts for a fat ass minute n only like 2 ppl know the contents of it SHKDHDIA #Tldr; cole's first horse after the war's named maria and he grows up with her til deadlock #she is a long-range mare with good sprint but it's a sprint not meant to be maintained for too long #impish personality - playful - likes to sneak up behind him despite not being very sneaky #He stole her; the owners find him - it does not bode well #He has rope burn scars on his wrist that he hides with gloves for the majority of his youth #Just because they're so damn noticeable and he's not in the business of entertaining the nosey and concerned #These days he doesn't really care due to the fact that he's mottled all over -- forgets that they're there for the most part #The memory of all this is also very far away for him tbh - like he's basically forgotten abt it unless u say smthing that just Unlocks it #This is also the cause of a few lines w a thread w quick drawn: #(You stagger out of this matted in blood and flesh and feel like Death's fucked up little butcher and #you have never wanted it to rain more in your life. #God did not answer this prayer.)

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, do GI Joe and Cobra exist somewhere in the Viron cluster?

Dear Real Anime Hero,

Indeed they do! Under the purview of the United States military, the G.I. Joe Rescue Corps worked tirelessly to combat the evil terrorist organization Cobra, who caused disaster from the shadows. By inoculating key individuals with their behavior-altering "Venom" serum, Cobra could engineer crises such as dam breaks, reactor meltdowns, bank robberies, and forest fires. When the call came in—"YO JOE!"—it would be up to Sergeant Duke and his emergency response team to fight back and save the day!

To challenge the dragon cult's mystic brainwashing and command over the elements, G.I. Joe was equipped with state-of-the-art high-tech vehicles—like Duke's "Attack Cruiser", a weaponised police car and peacekeeping machine. Joining him were the serious-minded pilot Scarlett, who flew the "Sky Hawk" helicopter; empathetic paramedic Lifeline, who drove the "Road Defender" ambulance; hot-headed firefighter Hot Zone, who drove the "Inferno Engine" firetruck; and boisterous construction worker Heavy Duty, who operated the "Drill Bit" mining machine. Depending on the mission, they would sometimes be joined by laid-back coast guard Beach-Head, who used the "Wave Crusher" hovercraft, and stubborn engineer Steamhammer, who drove the "Silver Streak" train. With General Tomahawk's tech-savvy son, Vinnie, backing them up at Rescue Corps headquarters, they used teamwork and ingenuity to defend the free will of every citizen.

Most curiously, the confrontations fought between these iterations of G.I. Joe and Cobra are repeated in an entirely separate timeline, deep in the megaverse! There, it was not Sergeant Duke who fought Cobra, but rather Officer Morishita of the Shinsei Foundation who investigated and counteracted the machinations of the Black Dragon Empire. Events played out almost identically between these two timelines, but where Duke had utter conviction, Shun Morishita was gripped with doubt over whether the Black Dragon Empire's rituals truly held sway over the minds of men—or if it was simple human apathy and incompetence which precipitated these daily emergencies.

This version of events may already be known to you! They are recounted in Kinkyuutai Shinsaver, a Toei anime and accompanying toy series from the year 2000. In certain markets, pleased with the cost-effectiveness of importing Car Robots for western audiences as Robots in Disguise, Hasbro would then do the same for this series—adding their own iconography and references that might be more recognisable, along with two new toys designed from scratch to fit the more militarized concept: the "Night Raven" stealth jet piloted by Snake Eyes, and General Tomahawk's "Super Slugger" battle tank. The line was unpopular with existing fans in the US, as the gimmick-heavy vehicles and 2" figures with limited articulation did not scale nicely with their older toys, but it sold well with its target audience, and the vehicles' action features went on to inspire similar gimmicks in Transformers: Armada toys developed later that year.

Anyway, I can see why you might not at first draw the connection to the continent-spanning battles between Optimus Prime's Autobots and Megatron's Predacons, as these groups never directly interacted at the time. It was only many years later that hidden "Ask Vector Prime" text in Transformers: Animated: The AllSpark Almanac II would declare that both Transformers: Robots in Disguise and G.I. Joe: Rescue Corps, together with A.T.O.M. - Alpha Teens on Machines, all took place in the same universal stream, Viron 901.8 Alpha.

#ask vector prime #transformers #maccadam #robots in disguise 2001 #gi joe #cobra #duke #scarlett #sky hawk #lifeline #road defender #hot zone #inferno engine #heavy duty #drill bit #beach head #wave crusher #steamhammer #silverstreak #tomahawk #hawk #vinnie #snake eyes #night raven #super slugger #optimus prime #megatron #vector prime #atom alpha teens on machines #action man

[birdhouse-of-shadows]

An au where Tokoyami is transported to the SCP Foundation world where none of the few hundred years of evolution happened in that world, meaning there are no things such as quirks or mutants.

However, due to the appearance of his head and the very obvious presence of Dark Shadow pictures had been taken and sightings had surfaced about a humanoid figure wandering the outskirts of Shizuoka prefecture. Even appearing in alleyways and such.

The foundation sent MTF-Alpha 9- the reborn Omega-7. (A Mobile Task Force explicitly intended to train and utilize humanoid SCP objects in the field) that was stationed in Japan before being ordered to scope the areas were the unknown entity is sighted. Ordered to use lethal force if necessary.

Almost a week later they reported the being was very familiar with the prefecture and the forest around it, thus being able to avoid the Team for long periods of time. However, the situation was given light when one of the personnel within the team coded "Vistage" maimed the entity and shot a part of it's leg while fleeing, giving them advantage on the mission as the entity screamed in a way that was almost human.

But before the team could get the upper hand on the situation- a loud, earsplitting roar was heard throughout the forest before a large shadowy entity rose up from the canopies. Whilst the MTF-Alpha 9 had begun fighting off against the other unknown entity they realized that no matter how much they do or how many bullets they shot off, there wasn't any significant effect on the entity even after launching off several grenades; though they noted that the grenades were much more effective on subduing the entity.

Much later another team appeared on the scene as requested for backup- MTF Epsilon-6 ("Village Idiots") soon arrived at the area were the other entity had sprung. Carrying with them multiple explosives, such as AT4S and RPG-7s and other such whilst half of the MTF-Alpha 9 were given orders via radio to locate the previous unknown entity before this one.

Significant aftereffects were soon noted when the MTF Epsilon-6 began to take action; firing multiple attacks at the shadowy entity but otherwise still not enough as the entity begins to act more viscous and lethal.

Large shadow claws descended from the treetops and grabbing the assault vehicles with personnels still inside before thrashing them about, thus as the debris fell from the sky as did body parts and blood. Raining over them in a red sea.

Soon after, almost all of both teams were eliminated on the spot after being thrown or dragged by the larger entity, while what's left with MTF-Alpha 9 still has not found the first previous entity that was originally meant as the main target.

MTF Epsilon-9 (specializes in the use of incendiary weaponry and operations in high-temperature environments) was then sent after the entity after reports of fire being the most effective by the remaining task forces, and thus began attacking as soon as the team arrived as the large entity roared and thrashed around before being almost subdued completely.

Expecting the entity to drop on the ground they were shocked to see the previously targeted entity on the forest grounds instead, curled up on a ball shivering but otherwise did not make any sounds as multiple wounds and burns covered it's exposed skin from the burnt fabrics of what could be a school uniform.

The entity were soon transported and contained on Site-[][][] after the initial event, though the SCP Foundation made sure to track any anomalous aftereffects within the forest and around itself.

SCP-2062 is a humanoid entity weighing around 45.9 kg (109 Ibs) and a height over 158 cm (5'2 ft) with fair skin and lean but otherwise strong build. Although the most distinctive was his head of a black bird, possibly supposed to resemble that of a crow or a raven. He has a tan, yellowish beak which is slightly hooked down at the end, thin, unnatural red eyes with a small black pupil, one on each side of his head, and a red choker, which he rarely removes. Despite the appearance of his head, however, his body looks like one of a normal human, with rather fair skin.

There is another entity that is seemed to be tied with SCP-2062 however, otherwise recognized as the large shadowy entity during the containment procedure of Shizuoka Prefecture. And was classified as SCP-419.

SCP-2062 and SCP-419 seems to be in what it appears to be in a symbiotic relationship as SCP-419 seems to be unable from detaching itself from SCP-2062 during the first attempted experimentation snd research.

SCP-419 is a sentient shadowy entity capable of human speech (mainly only japanese but otherwise shows recognition over English signs and words, but it is not considered if the entity is indeed fluent in English as well). SCP-419 is capable of movement on normal scales, but is fast enough to snap at anyone who dares to draw near it and SCP-2062 protectively for unknown reasons.

The entity also shows signs of irritation and anger whenever it is referred to as "SCP-419" by the researchers and SCP Foundation personnels.

Currently, both SCP-2062 and SCP-419 are both contained in Foundation Site-[REDACTED] for further research, though testing may halt before SCP-2062 is completely healed to undergo experimentation and interview.

Fun fact- I actually love the SCP foundation!!!

I am in love with the way you wrote this! I absolutely love reading entries and I can 100% see this as an AU, be it the result of a quirk or some other force of nature.

#tokoyami #bnha au #ask

[my-shields-are-down]

Chenford + you pushed me away Tim

Listening to Madonna from my junior high years and came up with this. Enjoy! ++++++

Los Angeles was burning up with temps hovering around 105 in the shade.  California’s perpetual sunshine was alive – causing the concrete jungle to sweat and scorch anything that dared touch it.

Tim was standing atop a police SUV yelling directions via megaphone to the police academy senior class to create multiple car wash lanes for their annual charity event.  He loved overseeing the annual event and yes, bossing future boots around. 

Once everything was set up and running smoothly, Tim hopped down and headed to his station’s lane to check on their progress. 

As he approached, his attention was pulled in the opposite direction by the sizzle of fire hose water hitting the pavement causing a veil of steam to rise from the street.  His breath caught in his throat as he saw Lucy and Bailey walking towards him through the veil – both wearing string bikinis in Rams colors – Lucy in sunshine yellow and Bailey in royal blue and very short torn up jean shorts with flip flops.  Lucy and Bailey were laughing and spinning in the water mist unaware of the fantasy they were bringing to life for the male population in attendance. 

As they broke apart, Lucy turned and walked right up to him and scratched her nails along his stomach as she strutted past, saying only, “Bradford” with a nod to him.  His breath caught in his chest as her touch sent electricity through his limbs and all blood rushed south, rendering him speechless.  Their relationship still not fully mended after their under-cover operation and her attending the DEA’s covert operations academy. 

They were finally on speaking terms – but nowhere near as close as they once were.  Her fingers sliding along his abs was the first time she had touched him since before they found her now ex-boyfriend bleeding in her apartment.   He saw fireworks, the sky opened, angels sung, and all those cheesy rom-com “moments” flashed before his eyes as it was finally confirmed for him -that she was it for him.  He was so insanely in love with her.

Angela bumped into him and handed him a soapy sponge telling him he could soap up cars while gawking at pretty girls and pushed him towards the front of the lane.  He ended up standing next to Lucy and soaping the front of the cars as they turned towards them.  He had to force himself to ignore her, for when he caught glimpses of her in his peripheral vision he’d freeze, mesmerized by the soapy water sliding into her cleavage and see the strings on her bikini stretch across her strong back and torso and every so often her hooded eyes staring lustfully back at him – but he was sure he was imagining those, projecting his want and need to reflect back to him in her glance.

At one point, their gazes locked and Lucy began to shoot seductive hunger energy in his direction, he almost missed the speeding car barreling through the crowd in their direction.  Tim grabbed Lucy by the waist and leapt out of the destructive path.

They landed in a puddle and Tim cushioned Lucy’s fall by making sure she landed on top of him.   While they heard screams and the loud crash of metal on metal, Lucy looked up at Tim and said almost reverently, “You pushed me away, Tim!  Why?”  Tim wasn’t sure if she was asking about before or now, but it didn’t matter because his answer was the same regardless.  “Because I love you, Lucy.  I am IN love with you Lucy and I will always protect you above anything and anyone else.  I’m forever yours.”   Realizing she was going to have to move soon, Lucy crawled up Tim and kissed him, then saying, “thank God.  I’m in love with you too. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

#askandrea #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #car wash fantasy #you must be my lucky star #I'm the luckiest by far #also on ao3 #check out valhalla_torment