#Protocol (PERP)

[empresa-journal]

Can the Perpetual Protocol (PERP) make money from Automated Arbitrage?

They claim the Perpetual Protocol (PERP) can make money from automated arbitrage. Moreover, they claim Perpetual users can earn a share of protocol revenue in USD Coin (USDC) stablecoins. Hence, they claim the Perpetual Protocol pays stakers with fiat currency, US Dollars. To explain, USD Coin is a stablecoin that pays with US Dollars they hold in BlackRock (BLK) and BNYMellon (BK) trust…

[amxritt]

Wrong Code

Tim Bradford x f!reader

summary: after a home security mix-up Y/n lands herself in a holding cell

part 2 — lattes

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: wrongful arrest, fluff

It was supposed to be a chill morning. y/n was in her sweatpants, hair in a loose braid, and slippers as she padded up to her friend’s house. She was dog sitting for the week while her friend was away shooting for a new movie. She was happy to get a break from the chaos of her job, or so she thought.

y/n typed the code into the keypad next to the front door.

Beep. Beep. Error.

Weird.

She tried again.

Beep. Error.

Panic started to fizz under her skin. She was sure this was the right code.

The alarm went off—blaring, screeching, end-of-the-world kind of loud.

“Oh my god,” y/n muttered, fumbling with her phone and the slip of paper with the override code on it. Her fingers were shaking. “It’s fine, it’s fine…”

It was not fine.

The alarm company had already pinged the LAPD. Neighbors peeked out of windows, one of them already on the phone. And then—

Flashing red and blue lights.

A black-and-white cruiser pulled up, and outstepped two officers. y/n froze mid-button press.

“Ma’am,” Bradford called out, hand near his holster. “Step away from the door. Put your hands where I can see them.”

“I live here!” she yelped, then immediately corrected herself. “No—I don’t live here. I’m dog sitting! My friend’s an actress! She’s in—where is she filming? Italy? No, no—France! It’s in France—”

Chen raised a brow. Bradford was already walking toward her, expression unreadable. “Ma’am, we have a report of a suspected break-in. I need you to stay calm.”

“I am calm,” y/n lied, hands shaking as she gestured to her slippers. “Would a burglar wear slippers? These are bunny slippers!”

“Regardless, we’ll have to take you into custody until we can confirm your story,” Bradford said, matter-of-fact. “You have the right to remain—”

“Wait!” Y/n blurted. “Can I at least let the dog out first? He hasn’t been out since last night and I really don’t want him to pee on the couch.”

Tim blinked. It was the kind of request no perp ever made.

He looked at Chen. She gave him a “don’t-look-at-me” shrug.

“Make it quick,” he muttered, unlocking the door.

y/n dashed in, the dog—a fluffy golden retriever named Henry—bounding up to her in joy. “Hi, baby!” she cooed, then opened the back door. Henry zoomed outside, tail wagging, barking at the wind.

Bradford watched her carefully, arms crossed, but something in his stern face had shifted. Just a little.

“He needs to run a bit or he’s going to go stir crazy,” she pleaded, throwing a tennis ball for Henry. “Please. My friend won’t be back for days. I swear, if she would just pick up—”

“You have five minutes,” Bradford relented, jaw still tight.

She looked at him gratefully, cheeks flushed, and that was when he really noticed her. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The messy braid. The oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. She didn’t look like a criminal. She looked… soft. Real.

Eventually, she returned inside, scooping up Henry’s water bowl and refilling it. “Alright,” she said, voice small. “Let’s go.”

Tim gently took her wrist. “Sorry, but we still have to cuff you.”

“Even if I’m cooperating?”

“Policy.”

“Ugh,” she muttered, holding her wrists out dramatically. “Do what you must, Officer Serious.”

—

Six hours. That’s how long y/n say in the holding cell.

Her one phone call? Straight to voicemail.

By the fifth hour, even Officer Chen had brought her a granola bar and an apologetic look. “We’re really sorry,” she said softly. “We know it’s a mistake, but we have to follow protocol.”

Y/n sighed, head in her hands.

At hour six, the holding cell buzzed open and Bradford appeared.

“She called,” he said simply, unlocking the door. “You’re good to go.”

Y/n stood, rubbing her wrists, eyes wide with exhaustion and relief. “Thank God.”

—

Outside the station, she stood on the sidewalk, phone clutched in her hand, waiting for her Uber.

Bradford’s truck pulled up instead.

“Need a ride?” he asked through the open window. “Figured it’s the least i can do.”

She eyed him. “You’re off-duty?”

“Clocked out ten minutes ago.”

“Then…yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

—

They pulled up to her friend’s place twenty minutes later. y/n punched the code perfectly and gave him a pointed look as the door clicked open.

“See?” she teased. “I do know the code.”

Tim shook his head, amused.

“You hungry?” she asked suddenly, turning in the doorway.

He hesitated. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Come on. You arrested me. You can at least let me feed you. If she has anything edible in here.”

They ended up cooking pasta together—well. y/n cooked, Tim let the dog out again and insisted on washing the dishes. They sat side by side at the kitchen bar, laughing and sharing stories.

“So, be honest… do you secretly judge people by how they parallel park?” y/n asked with a slight smirk.

Tim raised an eyebrow, and gave a small chuckle, “Depends. Are we talking ‘can’t park within the lines’ or ‘curb it like they’re drunk’?”

“I mean, the ones who do a 12-point turn to squeeze into a space that’s basically a football field,” y/n replied in a playful tone, “because I nailed it in two moves out front, and I feel like I deserve some kind of medal or something.”

“Is that so?” Tim laughed lightly in response.

“It is!” she exclaimed as they both broke out laughing.

As they came down from their laughter, she leaned a little closer. “You know,” she said, voice warm, “you’re kind of cute when you’re not arresting people.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

A pause.

Then Tim looked her dead in the eyes. “Go out with me.”

y/n blinked. “Like, on a date?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, honest and direct.

She grinned, eyes lighting up. “Only if you promise not to arrest me again.”

“No promises.”

They both laughed—and when he leaned in, she didn’t pull back.

The kiss was soft. Unhurried. Like maybe this was the start of something neither of them had planned—but weren’t about to run from either.

[amityahasfanartnowapparently]

That Time Fox's Fat Tits Saved The Galaxy - Chapter 10- Amity Ax - (SECTION 1 SNEAK PEAK, NOT DEFINITIVE)

Hello! This is TTFFTSTG's first section of chapter 10 (chapter title pending)! It's been a while since I've updated this story, and I really want to update it, but I'm literally not even half way through this white whale of a chapter. So I decided to share the first section of the chapter over Tumblr because everyone including me wants to see this thing posted already. I might post more sections of Chapter 10 as I finish them, or I might not. Either way, they will all be grouped up and posted as chapter 10 on ao3 when I'm done! But please keep in mind these sneaks peaks are NOT DEFINITIVE and may be edited or changed at any time, and that the final version on ao3 might look very different. It's also barely edited and probably is full of formatting issues and mistakes, so keep that in mind.

Also, thank you guys for all the wonderful comments you've been leaving on ao3! I read and cherish all of them, even if I'm not a great responder.

With all that said and done, enjoy the first section of chapter 10 under the cut below! :D

EDIT: oh and here's part 2 if you want it.

Trust in your men, but always verify. It was protocol, really.

Fox kicked a clump of probably-not-mud down the alley. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Uh huh,” Hound distractedly replied while guiding Grizzer’s snout to pick up the sent of the perp’s murder weapon. “Sure.”

Fox sniffed. “Do you want to fuck General Kenobi?”

Hound’s side-eye was criminal. “…Why.”

“Thire said everyvod wants to fuck Kenobi,” Fox shrugged casually, as if his the hope in his heart wasn’t furiously flickering out of his control. Plenty of Vod’e don’t feel it.

“…I don’t think Doberman wants to fuck Kenobi,” Hound snorted absently. Behind Hound’s gaze, Fox straightened in surprise. Was Fox currently receiving Doberman Lore? Was it Life Day already? “But I don’t know if that’s because he’s not interested in karking or because he doesn’t have any room in his brain for anything besides—”

Hound promptly cut himself off, clamping his jaw shut, but it was too late. The lines of his body were taught with sudden nerves at his slip.

“Besides what?” Fox pressed, despite knowing he wouldn’t get a straight answer. Not about ARF Trainer Doberman, of all Vod’e.

“Besides… work?” Hound lied, abysmally.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Fox rolled his eyes, but let the subject of the oh-so mysterious “Doberman” drop for the 100th time. For now. Hound couldn’t keep the mysterious Vod from Fox forever. In fact, Fox thought Hound’s grace period might be coming to an end.

“Can’t think of any more names off the top of my head, but I don’t really pay attention to that sort of thing.” Hound coughed, clumsily refocusing the subject. “But yeah, at least one confirmed non-Kenobi fucker, I’d say.”

Two, Foxmentally corrected. Two non-Kenobi fuckers. Maybe.

“I can see why Thire’d say that, though. Kenobi… he’s known for treating Brothers super well—like they’re real people. It’s part of the fantasy, yeah? Being a person. One who he’d…” Hound made a motion with his fingers Fox would prefer to never witness again, “…boink.”

Fox immediately cuffed Hound around the helmet. “Don’t say boink.”

Hound laughed unrepentantly. “Plus, being hot as summer on Mustafar is a big help.”

Fox let Hound’s statement linger. He pretended to be pre-occupied with rolling an empty can under his boot. “…Do you know how you tell?”

“Tell what?”

“When someone’s…” Fox gestured vaguely, not looking up, “hot?”

To his credit, Hound paused to consider the question seriously. 

“…I guess it’s different for everybody? Some people say there are, like, objective ways to tell. Golden ratios and facial proportions and osik. But I don’t really take stock in it.” Hound shrugged. “I mean, most would call my girl Grizzer ugly, even though she’s karking perfect and better than them in every way, so conventional standards of prettiness can’t be all they’re cracked up to be. I think it just depends on what you like.”

Trust Hound to insert his massiff into literally every conversation. Also, not the data Fox was going for.

“Yeah, but,” Fox huffed out a frustrated breath. “What about Kenobi gets people so fired up? It’s not like he’s the only Jedi who cares if clones are treated like people or not. Why not General Windu? Or Yoda? Or Mundi? Why doesn’t everyone want to kark them?”

“First of all, you’re making some bold assumptions about General Windu’s popularity,” Hound deadpanned. “Second, Yoda?”

“What?” Fox grinned wickedly. “He clearly fucks.”

Hound snorted irreverently. “Do you think he makes his lovers solve a riddle before he’ll whip out his—”

“What are you two fucking talking about?”

Fox looked up at the voice. “Oh, Vos. Perfect timing. Does Yoda—”

Fox never finished his question, as he was unjustly interrupted by the wet smack of a clump of probably-not-mud Force-propelled directly into his visor.

###

“So, why not Mundi?”

Hound stopped in his tracks, the Sargent’s jaw already poised and ready to argue, finger jammed furiously in the air. The loud slam of Fox’s door getting kicked in was still ringing through his office. The Sergeant blinked. “Huh?”

Fox didn’t even stop writing when Hound stepped over his grounded office door—the thing had been broken for a week, and he and his Corries had taken to literally knocking it down to get into his office. (It was cathartic, sue him.)

“General Mace is apparently also popular with the Vod’e, and Yoda is too… Yoda.” Fox shook his hand in an attempted approximation of Yoda’s Yodaness. “But why don’t tons of Vod’e want to kark Mundi like they do Kenobi?”

“Oh,” Hound replied, his finger dropping. “This conversation. Right, of course. We only dropped it like seven kriffing hours ago.”

“Yeah,” Fox agreed. It was extraordinarily recent in Fox’s eyes—both of their helmet filters were still being held hostage by the Health Department post their last discussion, even. “So, why not Mundi? Why isn’t he… ‘hot?’”

“Ugh, I mean, it’s not that I’d call him ‘not hot’—” Hound thoughtfully scratched the back of his neck, before snapping up to full attention once again, “—hey, don’t karking distract me!”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re distracting me.” Fox retorted, gesturing to his workpad.

Hound’s eye twitched. “That had better be a personnel restructuring for the Vos’oya tonight.”

“As if,” Fox scoffed, waggling his stylus between two knuckles. “Only the most gratifying of paperwork is reserved to be written by hand, Hound. You know this.”

“It would gratify me,” Hound groused.

“This,” Fox spun the pad around and propping it up with a flourish, “is Vos’ arrest warrant for attacking us.” Fox turned the pad around, pursing his lips in inspection. “Do you think I should add anything else to Probable Cause besides ‘Defacement of Republic Military Equipment’ and ‘Psychic Terrorism?’”

“Try ‘Shaboingary,’” suggested Hound. “He’d love a new one on his record. As a treat.”

“Perfect,” Fox grinned, meticulously etching ‘felony-grade public Shaboingary’ onto the tablet.

Hound tapped his foot impatiently. “So?”

“Oh right,” Fox perked up, recalling their conversation. “So, Mundi. Would you fuck them?”

“I don’t give a kriff about karking Mundi, Fox!” Hound slammed his hands down on Fox’s shitty desk, which buckled under the force.��

Fox blinked innocently up at his Sargent, completely un-rattled. “Well, don’t tell Mundi that. What if he gets sad?”

Hound grit his teeth. Then, he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“Doberman, Fox,” Hound sighed irritably. “Take Doberman off tonight’s hunt for Vos.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Fox acquiesced politely. 

“And if you don’t, I will train Grizzer to piss in your office, don’t think I won’t—” Hound’s head jerked back in surprise. “I’m sorry. Did you just agree?”

“Sure I did,” Fox smiled beatifically, grabbing a datapad he’d purposefully left out within grabbing distance on his desk. “Here you go!”

Hound’s eyes narrowed, scanning the pad like it could be booby-trapped, even ducking his head underneath the tablet to check for Force-knows-what. Fox unrepentantly rolled his eyes at Hound’s paranoia.

Hound glared in response, but reluctantly took the datapad from Fox powered it on. Immediately, Hound cursed a blue streak.

“What the kark is this?” Hound demanded the next time he took a breath, shaking the pad at Fox.

“It’s a request form to pull your trooper out of a Morale Raising Activity,” Fox informed him sweetly. “Select one or more of the listed reasons and submit it to be processed.”

“I’ve never had to karking do this shit before,” Hound grit through clenched teeth.

Fox blinked up neutrally. “It’s a new policy.”

Hound reeled back, aghast. “You’re gonna fucking Bureaucracy me?”

“Here at the Coruscant Guard, we take our record keeping very seriously.”

“Fine. Don’t you give me the kriffing Civvy Spiel, asshole,” Hound grumbled and patted down his pockets, eventually resorting to swiping a stylus off Fox’s desk. 

Hound aggressively scribbled in the information fields on the file, and shoved it back to him. “There. Are you satisfied, you absolute prick?”

Fox leisurely scanned the file, ignoring Hound as he steadily fumed more and more the longer he waited. He noted that in the section reading “Which of the following reasons are you recalling this trooper?” Hound had opted to skip over all pre-listed reasons and jumped straight to the write-in, which read: “To Stop the Galaxy from Ending In a Flaming Ball of Pure Cringe.”

“The end of the galaxy, huh?” Fox smirked. “Sounds entertaining.”

Hound’s shoulders shrugged up to his ears like he was trying to suppress a shudder. “It wouldn’t be as pleasant as you’re thinking.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Fox rolled his eyes. “He’s never even been admitted to the Ward.”

“Neither have you,” muttered Hound.

Fox narrowed his eyes in challenge. Hound glared right back. 

Fox took a singular moment of silence to appreciate how far Hound had come from when they had first moved in together. The old Hound would never would have dreamed of barging into Fox’s office and making demands so disrespectfully. The over-abundance of regard for Fox must have been an ARF Trooper thing the Sergeant had caught from the others in his unit like some sort of virus. Fox was grateful Hound had gotten over it relatively quickly, unlike some of the other more stubborn ARF Troopers Fox knew.

Okay. Moment over.

Maintaining eye contact, Fox took Hound’s completed form, and dropped it directly into the trash. “Thank you for your time, we appreciate it very much. Your submission will be processed in two to three business days.”

“You. Suck.” Hound spit venomously. “You suck so hard for so long!”

“Your request is very important to us. Please submit any questions or concerns to the trash chute in our lobby.” Fox grinned viciously. “Have a nice weekend.”

“That’s it,” Hound gestured in a circle to his office. “You see all this? This is about to become Piss Central. I’ll train every massiff we have to shit on your desk, too. Might as well move into the kennels now, because you will never escape the stink.”

“I look forward to seeing you try,” Fox said cheerily, “the other ARFs would dogpile you in a heartbeat for me. They’re disgustingly devoted, Force knows why.”

“…I hate that you’re right.” Hound sighed. Hound muttered something under his breath that sounded alarmingly like, “Damn cultists…”

Fox deliberately chose to ignore the fuck out of that, thanks.

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t check any of the other boxes,” Fox pointed out. “The boxes had a bunch of valid concerns you could have brought up to me. I would have cut him if there was a conflict, or if it would actually hurt him to go.”

Hound didn’t meet his eyes.

“Doberman has never been on a Vos’oya before, you know,” Fox looked at his Sergeant pointedly. “Whatever game you’re playing with your ARFs around me is fine and dandy until it actually starts to kark with scheduling. You can’t single out a trooper and keep them from morale activities like this, Hound. It’s not a good look.”

Hound groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, knowing there was no way to argue around that. “You don’t want to do this, Fox. I’m trying to protect you. And the galaxy.”

“I can do my own protecting, thanks.” And the galaxy could fuck right off. 

“But if you’re really that fussed about Doberman being there, we could always…” Fox allowed a smirk to creep up his face, “…leave it up to chance.”

Hound didn’t even bother to uncover his face at the challenge. “I am not rolling a karking chance cube with you, Fox. You always cheat.”

“I don’t cheat,” Fox folded his arms.

“You always win.” Hound pointed out. “It’s statistically improbable for you to not be cheating.”

“It’s a chance cube,” Fox grumped back. “You can literally look at it and see if it’ll land on blue or red. It’s not hard.”

Hound muttered miserably into his hand about Fox’s “bantha-osik” ability to do “crazy math” in his head. Fox rolled his eyes—as if counting to two was a herculean task.

Fox smiled to himself as Hound’s silence stretched on without retort. “So anyway—Mundi. How would you rate his fuckability on a scale from one to ten?”

Hound dragged his hands down his face enough to glare at Fox. Hound sucked in a breath. Let it out.

“…Six.” Hound admitted. “On a personal level.” 

Fox interwove his hands and rested his chin on them, his gaze intent on Hound. “Why?”

“Alright, well, if we’re calling ‘five’ neutral, could take it or leave it—” Hound ran a hand through his hair, his gaze locked on the ceiling, “Then maybe closer to a seven? Six-and-a-half? I’d be more interested in Mundi than some rando nat-born walking down the street. At least I know for certain he thinks I’m sapient.”

Fox raised a brow. “So Mundi is coasting to a seven out of ten purely by acknowledging your sentience?”

“Well gee, Fox, when you put it like that it makes me sound like a desperate loser,” Hound snarked, irritated.

Fox gave a tight lipped smile. “You said it, not me.”

“It’s not just because I think he would be nice to me,” Hound folded his arms. “I don’t find him repulsive to look at or anything—he’s decent. He gets moved two points above neutral for me because he seems pretty reserved, but like, in a way where it might be fun if we gave it a go of getting him to snap? If he was into that kind of thing that is. Which I’m not sure if he would be. His personality seems… a little bland, from a distance. But I don’t really know him, I guess.”

Fox took a moment, trying to parse that. Apparently, he let the silence linger long enough for Hound to grow defensive.

“Look, I’ve never really had a reason to think about Mundi like that until today, okay?” Hound drummed his fingers on his arm. “He’s not exactly the kind of guy who would catch my eye. I usually like ‘em a bit more…” Hound struggled to come up with a descriptor. “Adventurous? And looks wise, I can’t really say anything about him that stands out to me. That’s just my opinion.”

Hound finally turned his gaze back to Fox’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Mundi is somebody’s something. But you gotta admit, Kenobi’s looks just have a greater impact with a broader audience.”

Fox’s face scrunched up. “What does that even mean?”

“Look at it this way: Kenobi’s got all the popular traits,” Hound counted them on his fingers, “red hair, pretty face, nice bod—you seen that video of him with his abs out? Classic.”

“No, I haven’t.” Fox blinked in astonishment.“Someone made a video about a General’s abs?”

“The video wasn’t about his abs,” Hound defended. “It’s the video where he’s rescuing those two cadets from a ship crash and he gave them the literal shirt off his back for some reason? I don’t know the details. I can send it to you if you want.”

Fox wasn’t too interested in the video itself, but for the sake of his research Fox made himself reply with a bland, “Maybe later.”

Hound scratched the scruff of his chin. “Ultimately, he’s not super beefy or super twinkish—Kenobi’s right in the sweet spot of generally appealing to a lot of folks, I guess.”

“So…” Fox squinted into the far distance, puzzling together theories in his head. “People are karkable when their looks aren’t at any one end of an extreme? But also stand out?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so?” Hound’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Fox, I think you’re overcomplicating this. Why do you suddenly care about what everyone else finds attractive?”

“I’m just trying to gather data.” Fox spun in his swivel chair, turning away from Hound. “On what things people like. And things that I might like.”

“Force, it’s one of these crises,” Hound muttered under his breath, to his credit not blinking when Fox whipped back around to glare at him. “Well, not everyone is attracted to the same thing. Sure, Kenobi is a popular choice ‘cuz his looks are sensationalized by popular culture—you can’t wave a stick without hitting some fuck who thinks red-heads are to die for—”

Fox’s hand twitched, but he pointedly did not reach up to touch his own hair. He did turn around a little further so Hound wouldn’t notice the slight reddening of his cheeks. That’s right, millions of random strangers thought Fox was—nope, no, repressing that thought. Deal with the crisis at hand, Fox.

“—But you can’t hold yourself to the standards of what others think.” Hound shrugged. “Everybody’s different.”

“I know that I’m fucking different, alright?” Fox throws his hands up in the air, frustration rising. “I’d just appreciate knowing what that specific different thing is before it becomes a problem.”

Hound’s brows climbed his forehead. “Why would it become a problem?”

“It probably won’t,” Fox reassured Hound and himself. “I’m 95% sure I won’t get a stomach ache or start doing stupid shit like admiring Senators. But I would like to know if there’s a possibility of that in advance.”

Hound surreptitiously glanced around the room as if looking for candid cameras. “…Why would you get a stomach ache?”

“I just want to know why the Vod’e are apparently obsessed with this guy,” Fox drummed his fingers agitatedly on his desk. “Does this… ‘attraction’ spread over video, or does it only activate in person? With eye contact, maybe?”

Hound’s face scrunched. “Did you just compare finding somebody hot to contracting a virus?”

Fox’s fingers froze. “I’ve never looked Kenobi in the eyes before.” Fox’s nails dug in to the metal of his desk, leaving faint scratches. “Hound. What if he gets me?”

Hound stared at him. “What.”

“There’s some kind of—unknown factor here that’s getting Vod’e to want to kark Kenobi,” Fox sank down in his seat, pressing his fingers to his lips. “Am I in danger?”

“He’s not a karking star-siren, Fox.” Hound said incredulously. “He’s just a guy.”

“You could only name one Vod out of billions who probably wouldn’t kark Kenobi,” Fox pointed out. “That seems statistically improbable, even for somebody ‘generally appealing.’”

Hound leveled an unimpressed glare at Fox. “That’s because I’m shit at remembering things like that. There’s definitely more than one in a billion Vod’e who aren’t interested in Kenobi. Force,” He huffed an ironic laugh, “you make it sound like we’re all the same person or something.”

Fox snorted in amusement. “Thire made it seem like Kenobi was a huge thing with the troops.”

“I’m not saying he’s not a popular subject,” Hound amended. “But… look. There are plenty of pretty people in the galaxy. But the appeal of Kenobi, it goes beyond looks, at least for the Vod’e. Kenobi is a High General, Jedi Councilor, smart as hell, a stupid skilled fighter, demonstrably kind, and one of the only damn people in the Republic competent enough to War Correctly from the get-go.”

“He is, genuinely, all that,” Hound made a circular, encompassing motion, “and a bag of chips. And to top it all off, Kenobi is just viewed so widely by damn-near everyone as pretty that it’s clear he could have anyone he wants if he just asked them. The idea he of all people might want you, a clone that most nat-borns in this osik galaxy don’t even see as a person, is very appealing, even if you wouldn’t actually have sex with the guy. The idea is… I don’t know, a little vindicating, is all.”

Fox’s face scrunched up, not really sure how to feel about that. 

Hound spotted Fox’s expression and scoffed. “It’s just a harmless fantasy, Fox. Nobody would actually expect something like that from a General.”

“I know,” Fox brushed aside Hound’s defense. “I’m just thinking.”

He couldn’t imagine needing to rely on an outsider like that for validation of his personhood. But Fox knew his mentality wasn’t exactly common—maybe an outsider confirming their sapience carried a different sort of objective weight in the same way hearing compliments and insults outside of your innermost social circle did? Fox could understand it, if that was the case. And ultimately, who was Fox to police his Brothers’ coping mechanisms? Fox knew he certainly had some out-there ones of his own.

Fox looked out his small office window. Fox wondered if Kenobi knew he was the center of so much trooper attention. Fox didn’t doubt that the Vod’e had the discipline to never let Kenobi catch a whiff of their inner worlds on or off the battlefield, but Kenobi was a Jedi. Perhaps he could read it in their thoughts.

The commander studied the roiling sea of nat-borns below. He wondered if Kenobi was actually okay with the way strangers looked at him, reframing him into a symbol of power, an object of desire, or if he had just gotten used to it. If Fox had the balls, he’d ask the Jedi how he managed it. Maybe take some notes.

“I’m just,” Fox huffed in frustration. “I’m not sure how this helps me figure out if I’m attracted to Kenobi or not.”

“Uh,” Hound glanced around, unsure. “Well. Are you? Attracted to Kenobi?”

Fox looked up at Hound, gaze hooded. “No.”

“…Do you want to be?”

“No,” Fox said roughly. “But what if I could be?”

“What if Mace Windu walked in here right now and punched me in the face?” Hound asked rhetorically, palms pointed at the sky as if daring the universe to deliver. “That’s what a nonsense question sounds like, Fox. I say don’t worry about that shit unless it happens, which from what I’m hearing right now, it hasn’t and probably won’t.” 

“But what if it’s something else that I’m attracted to and I don’t know it?” Fox threaded his fingers through his hair, sinking in his seat. “If it’s not Kenobi, maybe it’s something really obscure and specific and when it happens it will trip me up.”

“Well, why the kriff would that matter?” Hound demanded. “Little gods, Fox! If you did or didn’t, it would be fine. It’s okay if you don’t know everything about yourself at twenty-five!”

“It karking matters when I’ll be dead at thirty,” Fox bit out.

Hound’s brows went up, a half-smile creeping onto his face. “Hey, you bumped it up from twenty-six! Nice job, vod.”

“Thanks, I’m working on my optimism.” Fox replied blandly. “Anyway, sometimes attraction only happens for certain people or situations. What if I have a timed-release situation going on and I suddenly want to kark somebody I already know?” Fox leaned forward, his sweat-beaded forehead almost touching the desk. “What if I want to kark Amidala?”

“You’re not a Force-damned time bomb, Fox,” Hound snapped. “Who cares if you wanna kark Amidala, or Kenobi, or anybody? It literally does not matter even a little bit.”

“I just want some karking certainty in my life, Hound!” Fox slammed his hands down on his abused desk. “Is that a crime? Are you gonna lock me up about it? For wanting to know if my bo-dy,” Fox gestured wildly to all of himself, “is going to betray me if I run into some fucker who meets some kind of secret criteria I don’t know about!”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Hound deadpanned.

Fox steepled his hands and placed his forehead at the point. “Betrayal can only come from places where there is trust,” Fox said mostly to his desk. “Did I ever trust my own body in the first place?”

“Alright, this is getting a little existential,” Hound cringed, “and I’m not the best Vod for advice about this kind of stuff. Did you talk to Thire yet?”

“Yes,” hissed Fox. “I talked to him plenty. I got probably the best advice in the world for someone in my position, and understood… about half of it, maybe?”

“Oh.” Hound said, despairing.

“Yeah. I just—need some time to work through it myself.” Fox pinched his lips, frustrated that he couldn’t have just gotten it all at once when it was explained to him. “I gotta do some tests. Get data. Check hypotheses and such. Come back with something to show for it.”

“Fox,” Hound sighed. “You know you don’t gotta prove anything to anybody, right?”

Fox averted his eyes. “…I just want to know.”

“Okay,” Hound said. “But you know you don’t have to go through this on your own, right?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Fox asked rhetorically.

“I guess that’s true,” Hound admitted. “Thire would be better. Pretty much anyone else would be better, actually.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Fox said sincerely. “You gave me some stuff to think about. Thanks, vod.”

Hound scratched the back of his head, looking away bashfully. “Ah, well… don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. I probably fucked something up majorly in all that.”

Fox smiled, terse. “I won’t tell.”

“Good,” Hound nodded. “Anything else, vod?”

“You tell me,” Fox snorted. “You’re the one who busted down my door.”

“Right,” Hound huffed. “I still think you shouldn’t be spending too much alone time with Doberman. The guy’s a bit… much.”

Fox rolled his eyes. “I think I can decide that for myself, thanks.”

“We’ll see,” Hound shrugged. “Until tonight, vod.”

Hound walked out of Fox’s office, and didn’t bother putting his karking door back up.

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

genuine question

what is the protocol for asking someone if you can get a tattoo of their artwork? I want a big ass portrait of Perp on my leg and ive seen some art i would absolutely have on my body forever but like how do you go about that?

i obviously would never do it without asking first and especially never do it if they said no, but sending a message saying "hey can i have this on me forever" feels silly?

is there a way to do this that is standard or am i just being awkward about the whole thing

[maesterchill]

May Daily micros. Prompt 22: harsh

Ongoing story. Prev parts: 1. key 2.black 3. coffee 4. pathetic 5.hang 6.floral 7. swell 8.crystal 9. puzzled 10. scene 11. forgotten 12. bear 13.beware 14. burning 15. future 16. match 17.waiting 18. eccentric 19. heavy 20. reverie 21.flicker

Robards is doing the briefing.

He taps his wand against a marked point on a topographical map of North Wales.

“The handover location is St. Cybi’s Well in Gwynedd.” 

The enchanted parchment zooms in, revealing a ruined stone structure nestled in the crook of a valley.

“Place is remote. Steeped in magical history. Cross-checks from the analysis team flagged a Muggle police report from several months ago—an albino man found wandering near this exact site. Dazed. Barely coherent. Head completely shaved.”

He glances around the room as people murmur to themselves. 

“Did he say albino man?” Hermione whispers.

Harry nods, his mouth a bloodless line.

“Reports indicate he’d been drugged and tortured by ‘deranged satanists.’ Claim one of his captors called himself Thrice-Great Something. Also the name Peregrine is mentioned. They never caught the perps.”

Hermione’s eyebrows lift slightly.

“Enough of the kidnapping details match, so we’re treating it as a linked case.” He pauses. “The victim also alluded to rather harsh sacrificial practices. Chap was lucky to get away.”

Harry’s jaw tightens.

“I want a squad of four,” Robards goes on. “Standard handover and hostage-release protocol. You’ll lead it, Finnigan.”

Séamus nods sharply.

Harry's chair scrapes as he stands. “I’m going too.”

“You’re not an Auror anymore, Potter.”

Harry meets Robards' gaze.

“But I am the master of the Elder Wand. Which, unlike the other Hallows, won’t be a replica.”

Robards studies him, then exhales through his nose.

“You haven’t changed a bit, I see.”

[nightowl9914]

Weight of the Scales (Libra)

Word Count: 738

Summary: Y/N, a Libra, and her guarded sergeant, Tim Bradford, struggle to balance their growing feelings amid the challenges of LAPD life. Between late-night shifts and unspoken fears, they navigate love, vulnerability, and the weight of emotional walls in this slow-burn romance. 💘💔

The sirens faded in the distance. Another long shift, another day of questions she didn’t want to answer.

Y/N leaned back against the patrol car, the sunset casting orange streaks across her face. The breeze was cool, tugging at the ends of her ponytail as she stared at the horizon like it held the answers. Her partner for the day, Lucy, watched her carefully.

“You good?” Lucy finally asked.

Y/N hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But Lucy knew better. Everyone did. Especially him.

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

Sergeant Tim Bradford had a problem. No, scratch that—Tim was the problem. Or so it felt lately.

Y/N was everything he wasn’t. Balanced. Charming. Thoughtful. She laughed at dumb movies, cried at random commercials, and had a heart too big for this job. A Libra to her core.

And Tim? He was grit and gravel. Discipline. Duty. Walls.

She’d gotten under his skin slowly, like ocean water through cracked concrete. One moment they were arguing about protocol, the next she was showing up in his dreams — usually in his T-shirt, barefoot, and smiling like she already knew his secrets.

He hated how much he needed her to keep him steady.

And he really hated how he didn’t know what to do with that need.

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

“Alright,” Sergeant Grey barked. “Diaz and Lopez — you're covering South Broadway. Westlake patrols go to Harper and Nolan. Chen and Y/L/N, you’re with Bradford today.”

Y/N froze.

She hadn’t worked with Tim in two weeks. Not since their almost-kiss after that late-night call at the Griffith Observatory. Not since he’d mumbled some excuse and vanished into the shadows like a ghost in uniform.

“Copy that,” Y/N replied, her voice even.

Lucy glanced between them, clearly biting back a comment.

Tim didn’t say a word.

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

The silence between them wasn’t tense. It was electric.

Y/N finally broke it. “So, are we just going to pretend that night didn’t happen?”

Tim kept his eyes on the road. “Which night?”

She scoffed. “Classic.”

He exhaled, thumb tapping the steering wheel. “Look, Y/N... it’s not that I don’t—”

“Feel something?” she cut in.

Their eyes met at a red light. His were a storm. Hers were scales, tipping between hope and disappointment.

“I feel everything,” Tim admitted. “That’s the problem.”

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

She had been talking about constellations. About Libras being ruled by Venus and how that supposedly made her “terrible at choosing but great at loving.”

Tim had teased her for reading horoscopes — until she leaned in, whispering: “You act like a Capricorn but love like a Cancer.”

He didn’t know what that meant, only that her lips were inches away and he wanted to lose every battle he ever fought if it meant winning her.

But fear made him step back. It always did.

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

The call came in just before midnight: armed robbery, suspect on foot.

Tim and Y/N cornered the guy in an alley. It happened fast—too fast—but she was faster. He blinked and she was already disarming him, gun lowered, voice calm.

After cuffing the perp, she turned to him.

“That’s twice now I’ve saved your ass, Bradford.”

He chuckled. “You keep a tally?”

“Libras love balance.”

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

The station was quiet. She was halfway to her car when his voice stopped her. “Y/N.”

She turned. Tim looked... undone. Not his uniform — him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For ghosting. For freezing. I’m not used to… this.”

“To what?” she asked softly.

“To someone who makes me feel like I could be more than this job.”

Y/N stepped closer. “I don’t need more. I just need honest.”

He swallowed. “Then here it is: I want you. I’m scared as hell. But I want you.”

She smiled, slow and warm. “Balance takes two, Bradford.” And then, finally, she kissed him.

Not dramatic. Not rushed. Just real — like the scales settling into place.

♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎♎︎

Lucy rolled her eyes the next morning when she caught them sharing coffee, whispering, again.

“About damn time,” she muttered.

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “Think it’ll last?”

“She’s a Libra,” Lucy said. “If anyone can teach him how to feel and still keep his armor, it’s her.”

And Tim? He didn’t need to be told. He felt it in the way she held his gaze. Like she saw all of him — and stayed anyway.

Like she was gravity.

And he was finally done running.

[fligniuz]

Karen has filed a new motion to prevent the government from seeking the DP against Luigi

https://storage.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.nysd.633811/gov.uscourts.nysd.633811.16.0.pdf

Sorry I forgot to attach the link the first time 😅

hey thank you for sending anon!!! i appreciate it💚

KFA is NOT fucking around she came through with the steel chair in this one omfg…here’s some choice quotes i liked:

“Defendant Luigi Mangione seeks Court intervention now not merely because the Government has failed to follow these procedures but because it has abandoned them.”

“The Attorney General stated during her television appearance that a reason she ordered the death sentence was because the alleged victim was a CEO.” hmm…hmmmmmm…

“Meanwhile, law enforcement was orchestrating the mother of all ‘perp walks,’ attended by none other than the New York City Mayor.” GET EM

“While a new administration must be given wide latitude to develop new and different policies to help the American people, this does not include abandoning its own death penalty protocol so the Government can kill a particular defendant without regard to the law or settled procedures.” GET EM!!!!

“In terms of mitigating factors, Mr. Mangione’s background reveals an exemplary life in every respect. He was, and is, a loved and cherished son, brother, uncle and cousin in a large, close, loving family. He was the valedictorian of his high school where he led the robotics team to the Eastern Regional Finals. He graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in four years with both a Bachelor’s and a Master’s Degree in Computer Science. He spent his life playing soccer and baseball; he ran track and wrestled. When compared with Mr. Mangione’s life of love, support and excellence, and no criminal record, the sole statutory aggravating factor pales in comparison.” karen. karen you’re breaking my heart karen

“While the Attorney General stated during her television appearance that ‘If there was ever a death case, this is one,’ that statement is wholly inconsistent with the historical record of death penalty cases in this District.�� after the rundown of cases where the DP was pursued in the southern district of NY? ooooooh. ooooooohhhhhh

“It is not surprising that, after a wholesale rejection of the death penalty protocol, the Attorney General ordered the death penalty.”

“Also, if the death penalty was being ordered pursuant to policy instead of publicity, the Attorney General would not have put her directive in the form of a press release followed by an Instagram post that effectively launched a new government social media account.” cackled out loud at this she is sooooo over it girl me fucking too

“Here, the one and only person legally permitted to make this decision is the same person who breached the established protocol, making a decision that is blatantly arbitrary and political and then publicizing that decision in a manner to prejudice the grand jury hearing this case.”

“With a few exceptions, for over two hundred years the Executive Branch earned the presumption of good faith. Over the last two months, it lost it.” ATE THE FUCK UP

“This conduct highlights that this Attorney General and other leaders in the Justice Department have a demonstrated track record of abandoning process wholesale. When others in the Justice Department insist that the established processes be followed, they are either fired or forced to resign. These are not normal times. By directing the S.D.N.Y. prosecutors to seek the death penalty without affording even a modicum of process to Luigi Mangione, by fashioning this order in the form of a press release, followed by an Instagram post, followed by a prejudicial television appearance, the Attorney General is being consistent with the new culture of the highest levels of the Justice Department, one that values personal will over process, publicity over discretion and partisan politics over justice.”

i’m very glad that karen took the time to discuss both eric adams’ case getting dismissed as well as abrego garcia’s illegal removal because they are truly necessary context to understand the sheer unlawfulness of trump’s administration and intentions. she is such a bad bitch luigi lucked out with his counsel man

[starkersblog]

It’s okay, daddy’s here!

TW: mentions of blood, guns/gunshots!, swearing!

I just want to say this is my first time writing and it’s probably not the best but enjoy none the less!

🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍

Peter was out on patrol and what was supposed to be a simple robbery goes south.

Peter’s senses heighten as he hears a burglar alarm go of, webbing his way to the scene, Peter sees the perp and intercepts him chasing him down. *bang* Peter feels a shooting pain in his leg (pun not intended) he looks down and sees blood all down his leg.

The perp fading away in the distance peter slouches down the wall “ah shit that hurts” *whimpering*

Peter’s emergency protocol on his suit notifies Tony unbeknown to peter, after five minutes passed Tony arrived and with no hesitation picked a dazed peter up, rushing him to the stark tower “it’s okay kid, daddy’s here your safe” Tony says as he takes peter to the medical room and gets him patched up.

*2 hours later*

Peter wakes up his leg bandaged up and his daddy beside him.

“Your awake little one, it’s okay now the doctors fixed your leg right up” tony smiled at his little boy

“D-daddy da bad guy gots away I didn’t get hims” Peter winces as he tries to move

“Sh sh sh it’s okay kid we got him don’t worry he wasn’t hard to miss, don’t stress yourself about it you done amazing buddy” tony soothed

“I wan go home wif daddy now don’ wan be in hospital”

“Come on buddy let’s go get you into something more comfy and relax, how does that sound?” Tony suggest picking Peter up and carrying him to Tony’s floor.

“Fanks for being there daddy” Peter says sleepily

“No worries hunny I will always be there for you, now get some rest and let’s get this leg better hmm?” Tony places Peter into bed and get in next to him

“Nite nite daddy” Peter mumbles exhausted from the event of the day

“Goodnight, little spider, your okay now” Tony kisses Peter’s head and falls asleep with him.

[griseldabanks]

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Requested by GracielleGrace

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Characters: Hank and Connor Prompt: "I'm still mad at you. A broken elevator won't change that. Get away from me. That's YOUR side."

>>ACCESSING MEMORY LOG

>11/26/2038

>16:32:58

“Oh, what now?”

“It would appear the elevator is stuck.”

“Yeah, no sh—“

>>PROFANITY LIMIT REACHED. INITIATING HANK ANDERSON PROFANITY FILTER v1.02

“Yeah, no sheep, Sherlock. Fudge.”

“Not to worry, Lieutenant. I'll call for assistance now.”

“Oh, you'll call for assistance. Great. All my problems are solved.”

>>CONTACTING NEAREST MAINTENANCE ANDROID

>>SENDING LOCATION

>>CONFIRMATION RECEIVED

“It's most likely a simple electrical failure. The maintenance android should have us out in ten minutes.”

“Oh, Santa Claus, another android, just what we need. Well, as long as this one doesn't leave us both for dead.”

“I feel I should apologize again for chasing the deviant instead of coming to your assistance, Lieutenant. It wasn't that I was unconcerned for your safety. My calculations indicated the chance of your survival was approximately 89%, and so it seemed to me—”

“To heck with you and your flipping calculations! You're full of sheep and you know it. All you care about is your stupid flipping mission, you—oh, why am I even talking to you? It's like arguing with my flipping refrigerator.”

“I understand your anger, and I sincerely apologize for my actions. I will prioritize your safety in future.”

“Bull. Sheep. I ain't buying any of that sugar-coated crap. You're just saying that to get on my good side. Where the heck is that android?”

>>CONSULTING...

“ETA 7 minutes.”

“Santa, this is the longest ten minutes of my life.”

“Studies have shown that time appears to pass more slowly when you are agitated. Perhaps it would be best if we shook hands and started on a fresh—“

“No. I'm still mad at you. A broken elevator won't change that. Get away from me. That's your side.”

“My apologies.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Okay, how much time now?”

“Six minutes.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.”

“Lieutenant, I....”

“What now?”

“Never mind. I have no desire to aggravate you further.”

“Oh, just spit it out already. Not like I've got anything better to do.”

“I...merely wish to say that I am trying.”

“Right. Whatever.”

“You're right to say that I'm a machine. I'm not a human like you. I'm sure that, were you in my position, your feelings, your emotions, would lead you to make the right decision. However...I don't have emotions. I can only simulate them. There are certain scripts and protocols I am programmed with that allow me to approximate human behavior. But you're right. At the end of the day, I am nothing but 1's and 0's.”

“Hmph. Yeah. That's the difference between me and you.”

“No. The difference between us is that I am trying to bridge the gap, and you are not.”

“Screw you.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Look. It's just...aw, heck.”

“I believe now it's my turn to say 'spit it out.'”

“Yeah, yeah. Look...we're supposed to be partners. For better or for flipping worse. And when your partner is hanging onto a roof by one flipping hand, you forget about whatever perp you're chasing and go make sure your partner doesn't flipping fall to his death, okay?”

“I understand.”

“No you don't. You just told me you don't have emotions, so how could you? But maybe you could at least simulate a minimum amount of concern for your flipping partner, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now tell that android to hurry up so we can get out of here and I can stop looking at your stupid face.”

[finovohub]

Altcoins, Ether Outperform Bitcoin as Rally Gains Steam: Crypto Daybook Americas

Shaurya is the Co-Leader of the CoinDesk tokens and data team in Asia with a focus on crypto derivatives, DeFi, market microstructure, and protocol analysis. Shaurya holds over $1,000 in BTC, ETH, SOL, AVAX, SUSHI, CRV, NEAR, YFI, YFII, SHIB, DOGE, USDT, USDC, BNB, MANA, MLN, LINK, XMR, ALGO, VET, CAKE, AAVE, COMP, ROOK, TRX, SNX, RUNE, FTM, ZIL, KSM, ENJ, CKB, JOE, GHST, PERP, BTRFLY, OHM,…

[cgnews]

Hype 300 % Rally Reveals Hyperliquid Growth Is It Misestimated?

Secret takeaways : HYPE has surged over 300 % since April, driven by expanding usage of the Hyperliquid exchange and increasing financier interest. Hyperliquid now leads the decentralized perpetuals market, processing over 70 % of DEX perp quantity. 97 % of protocol fee earnings is reinvested into HYPE buybacks, aligning token motivations with system development. Hyperliquid is having a minute.…

[zohaibyter]

Hype 300% Rally Shows Hyperliquid Growth Is It Overvalued?

Key takeaways: HYPE has surged over 300% since April, driven by growing usage of the Hyperliquid exchange and rising investor interest. Hyperliquid now leads the decentralized perpetuals market, processing over 70% of DEX perp volume. 97% of protocol fee revenue is reinvested into HYPE buybacks, aligning token incentives with platform growth. Hyperliquid is having a moment. Since its local…

[fabiopempy]

ELFi Protocol Marks 2-Year Milestone with $1.6B in Volume and Launches 500% APR Liquidity Event

ELFi Protocol, a decentralized derivatives trading platform, is marking its second anniversary with the launch of a limited-time liquidity mining campaign offering up to 500% APR. The campaign celebrates ELFi’s rapid growth and continued commitment to building a high-performance, transparent, and user-driven Perp DEX ecosystem. ELFi, founded in May 2023, has quickly established itself as a

Read More: You won't believe what happens next... Click here!

[cashflowcommand]

Ripple, XRP News: RLUSD Stablecoin Adoption Gets a Boost With Aave Market Launch

Shaurya is the Co-Leader of the CoinDesk tokens and data team in Asia with a focus on crypto derivatives, DeFi, market microstructure, and protocol analysis. Shaurya holds over $1,000 in BTC, ETH, SOL, AVAX, SUSHI, CRV, NEAR, YFI, YFII, SHIB, DOGE, USDT, USDC, BNB, MANA, MLN, LINK, XMR, ALGO, VET, CAKE, AAVE, COMP, ROOK, TRX, SNX, RUNE, FTM, ZIL, KSM, ENJ, CKB, JOE, GHST, PERP, BTRFLY, OHM,…