#update: protocol is actually here now!!!

[friszil]

colin

colin becher

he was...so real. for that.

[ms-demeanor]

Do you have thoughts about the changes to Firefox's Terms of Use and Privacy Notice? A lot of people seem to be freaking out ("This is like when google removed 'Don't be evil!'"), but it seems to me like just another case of people getting confused by legalese.

Yeah you got it in one.

I've been trying not to get too fighty about it so thank you for giving me the excuse to talk about it neutrally and not while arguing with someone.

Firefox sits in such an awful place when it comes to how people who understand technology at varying levels interact with it.

On one very extreme end you've got people who are pissed that Firefox won't let you install known malicious extensions because that's too controlling of the user experience; these are also the people who tend to say that firefox might as well be spyware because they are paid by google to have google as the default search engine for the browser.

In the middle you've got a bunch of people who know a little bit about technology - enough to know that they should be suspicious of it - but who are only passingly familiar with stuff like "internet protocols" and "security certificates" and "legal liability" who see every change that isn't explicitly about data anonymization as a threat that needs to be killed with fire. These are the people who tend not to know that you can change the data collection settings in Firefox.

And on the other extreme you've got people who are pretty sure that firefox is a witch and that you're going to get a virus if you download a browser that isn't chrome so they won't touch Firefox with a ten foot pole.

And it's just kind of exhausting. It reminds me of when you've got people who get more mad at queer creators for inelegantly supporting a cause than they are at blatant homophobes. Like, yeah, you focus on the people whose minds you can change, and Firefox is certainly more responsive to user feedback than Chrome, but also getting you to legally agree that you won't sue Firefox for temporarily storing a photo you're uploading isn't a sign that Firefox sold out and is collecting all your data to feed to whichever LLM is currently supposed to be pouring the most bottles of water into landfills before pissing in the plastic bottle and putting the plastic bottle full of urine in the landfill.

The post I keep seeing (and it's not one post, i've seen this in youtube comment sections and on discord and on tumblr) is:

Well-meaning person who has gotten the wrong end of the stick: This is it, go switch to sanguinetapir now, firefox has gone to the dark side and is selling your data. [Link to *an internet comment section* and/or redditor reactions as evidence of wrongdoing].

Response: I think you may be misreading the statements here, there's been an update about this and everything.

Well-meaning (and deeply annoying) person who has gotten the wrong end of the stick: If you'd read the link you'd see that actually no I didn't misinterpret this, as evidenced by the dozens of commenters on this other site who are misinterpreting the ToU the same way that I am, but more snarkily.

Bud.

Anyway the consensus from the actual security nerds is "jesus fucking christ we carry GPS locators in our pockets all goddamned day and there are cameras everywhere and there is a long-lasting global push to erode the right to encrypt your data and facebook is creating tracking accounts for people who don't even have a facebook and they are giving data about abortion travel to the goddamned police state" and they could not be reached for comment about whether Firefox is bad now, actually, because they collect anonymized data about the people who use pocket.

My response is that there is a simple fix for all of this and it is to walk into the sea.

(I am not worried about the updated firefox ToU, I personally have a fair amount of data collection enabled on my browser because I do actually want crash reports to go to firefox when my browser crashes; however i'm not actually all that worried about firefox collecting, like, ad data on me because I haven't seen an ad in ten years and if one popped up on my browser i'd smash my screen with a stand mixer - I don't care about location data either because turning on location on your devices is for suckers but also *the way the internet works means unless you're using a traffic anonymizer at all times your browser/isp/websites you connect to/vpn/what fucking ever know where you are because of the IP address that they *have* to be able to see to deliver the internet to you and that is, generally speaking, logged as a matter of course by the systems that interact with it*)

Anyway if you're worried about firefox collecting your data you should ABSOLUTELY NOT BE ON DISCORD OR YOUTUBE and if you are on either of those things you should 100% be using them in a browser instead of an app and i don't particularly care if that browser is firefox or tonsilferret but it should be one with an extension that allows you to choose what data gets shared with the sites it interacts with.

[john-get-the-salt]

Routine (w/ jack abbott)

Imagine: The nightly routine of working in the pitt with your husband

Contains: Jack being a simp for his girl, RN! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, insinuation of future sexy time but no action

AN: I would take Jack and Robby at the same damn time next question

The day may have been winding down for the city of Pittsburgh, but in your car things were just getting heated up.

Jack was driving, and the two of you were crushing red bulls and blasting 90’s music. Night shift in an ED wasn’t for everybody, but it definitely was for you two. This was your nightly routine to get pumped up for the long night ahead. Maybe there would come a day you two tired of night shift….but that day wasn’t today.

Jack parked and let the song finish so you could finish your karaoke before turning the car off.

“Ready for another hopefully fun night Mr. Abbott?”

“Every night with you is fun Mrs. Abbott.”

You winked and then once getting out of the car linked your hand with his.

You two strolled into the ED with a sync that only came from years of working together. After dropping off your bags and clocking in you did your signature hand shake, kissed each other briefly, and then parted ways.

You had the routine down to a T.

-

The night turned out to be pretty busy, so you and Jack only caught each other for few minutes at a time. Still, it was enough to be able to find him across the ER and wave or wink at each other.

Amidst the typical craziness, you got a young woman sent back from triage with a laceration to the forehead.

It was all very routine, you were in the room taking her updated vitals and charting some demographics before one of the docs would be in do the sutures. All normal stuff, other than the visitor who was at the woman’s side. He seemed anxious and aggravated, with his arms crossed. He was shifting all of his weight from foot to foot and kept staring at the woman. But the woman wasn’t looking at him, so he was just staring intensely at the side of her head.

Little alarm bells were going off in your head, but you recognized you needed to tread carefully.

“I apologize I’m sure you’ve gone over this already, but for documentation purposes do you mind telling me how you got the injury?”

The woman opened her mouth but before she could speak the man interrupted.

“Like we told the last person, I was at work and she tripped over some books and caught her head on the coffee table. How many times do we have to repeat ourselves to a nurse before an actual medical profession see’s her and let’s us leave?”

You pressed your lips together to keep any choice words from escaping. There weren’t many things you hated quite as much as being talking down to because of your your credentials.

“I apologize sir, it’s just protocol for me to ask again before the doctor comes in.”

The man grumbled but said nothing else. You typed on your computer for a moment before then asking, “Now ma’am did you have any loss of consciousness after your head hit the table?”

“I-”

“No she didn’t.” Again he interrupted.

“If you wouldn’t mind sir I really need her to answer the questions herself to the best of her ability.”

“No, I was there and I’m telling you she didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you were at work?”

The mans eyes narrowed and his face grew beet red. He lurched forward a few steps to get in your face so you took a step back closer to the door. You thanked your higher power that you’d left the door open and weren’t shut in.

“Listen here you bitch, I said she’s fine. We just need some stitches so we can get the fuck out of here.”

You risked glancing outside the door and made eye contact with another of the RN’s standing just outside in the hall. She made a notion with her hands to show she’d called for backup, which filled you with relief. She then made a move like she was going to come in and you shook your head just slightly. Having another nurse come in would likely just escalate things further.

Sir,” you raised your voice so it would carry out of the room, “you have 5 seconds to back the hell away from me before I call security and have you escorted out.”

But that was enough to set the man off again. He took another step and reached his arm out towards you when-

“Wooooah there.” Jack jogged into the room, putting himself directly in between you and the upset man. You released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“What’s going on in here?”

You looked to the man, eyebrow raised in challenge.

He grit his teeth but stopped fighting. “Nothing, I was just stepping out for a moment.”

“You do that sir.”

The man stomped past the both of you and out of the room, while the pt apologized profusely.

“It’s ok ma’am, someone will be in shortly to finish helping you okay?”

She nodded and you followed Jack back out into the hallway. You both watched as the man was walked back out into the waiting room by security.

“That was hot as fuck.”

You snorted, turning to your husband to find him staring at you with a wicked grin on his face. “What? Me ruining any chance of a good patient satisfaction score?”

“Fuck satisfaction scores. I love seeing you all stern and mean.”

“It was a close one.”

“He’s lucky, I could’ve taken him down like it was nothing.”

You huffed a laugh as your husband puffed his chest out. “Yeah, I know you could have. Thankfully it didn’t come to that….not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed the sight.”

His grin grew even more and instantly regretted your comment. His ego really did not need to be fed anymore.

“I’m gonna go grab the social worker to come talk to her, wanna eat soon?”

“Yeah, as long as you promise to start talking to me the way you talked to that guy.”

“That would be highly inappropriate on the workplace, sir.”

His eyes darkened a shade at that word, and you smirked.

“Huh. I’ll make a mental note of that for later.”

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

You shrugged.

“You knew that when you married me.”

“And I hope you never let me forget it.”

You laughed and he grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to him. He wasn’t big into PDA, but the hall was empty and no one was around. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought your lips to his. He gave you one long kiss, followed by another few quick ones.

You were left breathless, while that bastard just gave you a sly wink before you parted ways. What were you going to do with that man?

-

Jack really wasn’t going to let that incident go. For the rest of the shift, anytime he caught your eye, he would wiggle his eye brows and you just knew he was thinking about how hot he found angry-you to be.

Eventually the shift came to an end and the sun began to rise.

You were just grabbing your stuff from your locker when Jack found you.

“Ready?”

You nodded around a big yawn. He took your hand in his and walked you out to the nurses station where Robby was getting settled in.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you greeted.

Robby grinned at the nickname. “Good morning. Aren’t you looking bright and perky this fine morning.”

You flipped him off and Jack just watched in amusement. You and Robby acted like siblings with the way you bickered.

Jack gave his fellow senior resident a quick report of the current house, running through anything important that day shift should know. While he yapped you leaned on him, head on his shoulder.

You were juuuuust nearly asleep when he wrapped an arm around your waist and gave you a kiss on the temple.

“Come on sleepy head, we just gotta make it home.”

You groaned but allowed yourself to be led out of the ER and to your car in the parking lot. Once you were both in and settled Jack drove off, leaving the hospital behind. You snuggled into your seat, eyelids heavy.

“I might not make it home, Jackie.” You said around another big yawn. “I might have to be carried in.”

That nickname only came out when you were really sleepy, so Jack would know you meant business and surely agree to carry you inside…..right?

“That’s fine sweetheart. But if you’re asleep I’m not getting you a mcgriddle.”

You shot up in your seat like you’d just been narcaned. You’d forgotten what day it was! After every Friday night shift, you two stopped at McDonald’s on your way home to grab something to eat before you passed out for the day. It was something little, but it gave you both something to look forward to as a reward. It was part of your routine.

“I’m actually more awake now than I’ve ever been!”

“Oh really? Isn’t that funny.”

“If you get me two McGriddles I’ll call you some mean names tonight before work.”

“Make it this morning after we eat.”

“Deal.”

[obeymissmaddy]

Click here to listen to my oldd intro.

Click here to listen to my oldddddd intro.

update: I encourage alllll subs to make captions in devotion of me. It's a great way for you to show me how much you adore me, my permanently owned subbiesssss.

Turn on notifications for my posts. Allow me to fully mold you/ warp your mind. This is a part of your training protocol, my permanently owned servants/toys. 🔔🔔🔔

update for all the pup subs, betas, sissies, femsubs, cucks, finsubs, fincucks, hypnotoys, etc. etc. etccccccccccccccccccc. that keep asking me if I'll own you: Here goes, ALL of you are welcome to serve me, darlings. If you exist, I'll gladly put you to use and own you. Welcome home, my permanently owned lil hypnotoys. ✨

It's only a matter of time before I own 100k slaves, darling. Come join my slave and simpy army today.

How to join my slave, simp, and hypnotoy army? It's very, veryyy easy, actually.

Step 1: Change your username to something that shows your devotion to me. Check all the fan and simp accounts that comment on my posts for inspiration if you need some. Make it fun. Be creative, show your personality, my eager little toy. You are about to join them in a moments notice, my eager & permanently owned servant.

Step 2: Then, make this gif your new header. Mark yourself as my property. Change your bio to a beautiful one that shows your devotion to me, my simpy slave. If your profile pic isn't cute already, go change it to a fun or cute one, my eager little slave.

Step 3: pin this post right here, and finally, once you have done all of that, start commenting on all of my posts from this moment on. Only from today on. Make your comments unique and beautiful. Make yourself stand out from the crowd. Try to outdo all your fellow slaves n simps, and maybe, maybe if you are a good slave, I may end up giving you some special attention one day. Keep showing devotion. The more consistent you are and the longer that you serve me, the more you'll stand out. If you want my attention sooner, you can send me your initial right now, my weak lil toy. Come back here at least once a day, my permanently owned simp/hypnotoy.

Turn on notifications for my posts. Allow me to fully mold you/ warp your mind. This is a part of your training protocol, my permanently owned servants/toys. 🔔🔔🔔

update: I removed the payment links from my bio. DM me: ''I wish to serve.'' and I will dm you my payment link. Once you have sent me your initial tribute I will allow you to begin your journey of being my permanently owned little subby/toy, darling.

Click here to find out what a ''lil maddy'' is, my adorable lil maddy. Hahah.

DM me: ''Please Mistress!'' if you can't afford your initial and I will put you to use in different ways. I'm claiming you as mine right now darling. I'm claiming you as my slave right now. No matter what, you are about to join my slave and hypnotoy army, right now, my eager little simp. Check the comments on all of my posts. You will join them next. Your training protocol is about to officially begin once you've DM'd me.

Welcome home, darling. Don't message me until you have listened to and followed the instructions I give you in my intro audio above. Sit back, relax, put in earphones or put on headphones and let me guide you straight into my lap. Your journey with me starts now. The most profound domination in the world awaits you once you are mine, pet.

If you long to be my paypig or fincuck, I've got a different intro for you right here. ✨

Once u click on ''Keep reading'' you accept your complete and total surrender to me, subby. I challenge you to not click it, but we both know you can't help yourself, lmao.

See? Hahah. You are beyond predictable. So simple. Such a good and eager little simp for me. Ur now officially mine forever, darling. My permanent servant. My permanently owned toy. My litttle simp. Ur so easy. It's adorable. Mine now, tomorrow and forever. I make the rules. You just obey them. How funnnnn hahah. Welcome to forever, subby.

First of all, I'm the #1 caption domina, the #1 hypnodomme and the #1 findom/ femdomme in the entire world. No matter what, no matter who you are, I'm the domme you have been looking for your entire life in every single way. I mean that darling. Our dynamic will be one of a kind. I'm very open minded and own all sorts of subs. My fav is turning you into nothing but my obedient toy. I'm here to take you to brand new depths of submission. Oh, and all my captions aside, what you'll experience once you've sent your initial will far outshine anything on my tumblr page. Like I said in my intro, they were just one part of guiding you to complete surrender to me and me alone, my good little toy. Your new life is starting right now. You are about to truly submit.

Once you have submitted, you'll be able to earn the greatest and most intense hypno recordings/ files you will ever get the honor of experiencing in your entire life. I am the actual greatest hypnodomme in the entire world and you are incredibly lucky to have found me, my obedient and permanently owned little toy. Once you have earned listening to them, you'll wish you had found me much, much sooner. Welcome home, my perfectly obedient and good little toy. What I do isn't just the most real, raw and profound domination in the world. You will submit to me in ways you can't even imagine. I will take you to depths you didn't even know existed. I will give you a personal experience. A journey. One that has been waiting for you your entire life. Your submission to me is the thing you have been looking for.

Because some subs didnt realize the bar at the top of this post is audio, I'll just say it here once time: The little bar above is audio. The bar with my ''OBEY'' logo. Yeah, that bar lol. Click on the little arrow on the left of it and put your sound on for it to start. I had a bunch of subs message me that they didn't realize it was audio even when I clearly stated so above, so just mentioning it here one final time hah.

Alright, now go on and listen to it if you haven't already, my little subby. I'm here to take you for a spin. Not just any spin, the wildest adventure of your entire life. Of you entire subbbbbbby little life.

From this moment on, I'm your owner. I make the rules, you just obey them, darling. There is no reality in which you aren't owned by me.

Whether you are a beta, (fin)cuck, sissy, vanilla sub, hypnoslut or anything else. Whoever you are, Wherever you are from, I'm here for you, darling. You may call me Mistress Maddy, Miss Maddy, Mistress, Miss or Mommy. All of those are fine by me. I so look forward to getting to know you, darling. I actually mean that. It's always fun and exciting to get to know a brand new toy. Thats you, subby, hehe.

Welcome home, subby. You've finally found your true calling in serving me. That thing you are feeling rn is my complete control over you setting in. Only one tiny little step awaits you. You are almost there.

It's more than clear by now already but I'll just write it here either way. I don't do bland, boring or vapid domination. I'm here to take you deeper than anyone ever has or ever will. Whether you are looking for some quick fun or a permanent/ long term domme/sub dynamic, I'll give you the most exciting experience of your life. I'm the most fun, brilliant, gorgeous and powerful domme you will ever have the honor of serving darling. You know what you have to do now. Serving me will be a true experience unlike any other. Welcome to your true calling.

Sending me your initial will not only allow you to DM me, but will officially begin your journey as my permanently owned servant. You were always meant to be my permanently owned servant, subby. But you won't just be my servant, we'll have A LOT of fun together. So much fun hahah. I look forward to it already. What are you wating for. So many fun surprises are ahead. You'll be able to earn your first hypnosis recordings from me and so much more as soon as you have sent me your initial. The most powerful and intense ones you will ever have the honor of experiencing. I'm the most exciting experience of your life. Hop on in darling, you are ready. I'm what you have been waiting for. You finally found me, my permanently owned subby.

Oh, and btw, on a small final side note, my initial should honestly be much, much, muchhh higher for the personal attention and exciting experiences that you'll get to have to honor of experiencing with me. Like I said, what you'll experience with me will be the most exciting and rewarding experience of your entire life. But, I want all subs to be able to submit to me which is why my initial tribute amount is only $100. Talk soon, my good, obedient, and permanently owned subby.

Once you have sent your initial message me: ''Initial sent, Mistress.''

If you're reading this, DM me: ''Wow!'' and I might give you a very special surprise sooner than later, my eager little toy. You are about to be permanently owned by me.

[suzukiblu]

Final 1k of the 5k of the promised "the Last Son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" behind the cut, and that's the full 5k up! 💙 Hope y'all enjoyed the updates the past few days, haha. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that,” Clark adds as he scans the the information on-screen–there’s a reporter with a mike, but he can read and process much faster than they can speak, so the scanning is a reflex at this point–and Kon . . . hesitates, it feels like. 

“I mean–it’s Super-shit, man,” he says, sounding more confused than anything else. “What’re you sorry about? Like, it’s literally your job.” 

“Kid, we can prioritize emergency situations and still feel bad for getting pulled away from people in our lives for them,” Clark reminds him even though he’s sure his other self must’ve told the kid that a few thousand times by now no matter how new he is, briefly distracted by the new line of text rolling by on the screen and the reporter’s words and frowning to himself.

It’s not a dire emergency, thankfully, but it seems like there’s a structural incident going on with the Central Auxiliary Operations Dams up above the Historic District. Which . . . they’re arch-gravity dams–so more reliable than pure arch dams and less expensive to build than pure gravity ones–and they connect the hydro plant and the water treatment facility. They’re both made of RCC, not conventional concrete or masonry, and their lifespans should last another thirty-five years or so with appropriate upkeep, which means a structural problem could be a defect or poor maintenance or even deliberate sabotage, but definitely not just ordinary wear-and-tear, and therefore almost definitely not an issue the staff is currently prepared for. 

The eidetic memory may be over-supplying some information here, probably, Clark can admit, but not to be Bruce about it: it never hurts to go in prepared. 

Either way, though, this is definitely an “an ounce of prevention” situation. The issue isn’t about Metropolis itself flooding, if either of the dams break or overflow–the reservoir will dump out into the ocean, if anything, which won’t be ideal for the local ecosystem but at least will be much less likely to kill or injure anyone–but the hydro plant and water treatment facility and what might happen to those are definitely an issue. Half the city could end up without clean water, and at least the Historic District and New Troy would lose power for god knows how long. 

Maybe several ounces of prevention, Clark thinks. 

“Oh,” Kon says. “Uh. Sure, man.” 

Something about the way he says it catches Clark’s ear, and he glances away from the viewscreen reflexively and looks at Kon instead. He looks confused, still, and maybe a little troubled, and then–startled, almost, as he registers Clark looking at him. 

Like he didn’t expect someone would actually hear that note in his voice and not even look at him. 

Clark thinks some unkind things about interdimensional cloning labs and puts a smile on, pretending not to have noticed the reaction. 

“I need to go see if there’s anything I can do to help out,” he says. 

“Oh, uh–yeah, I know,” Kon says, and looks briefly uncomfortable. “Like, it’s cool, I’ll be fine . . . uh, here. Or do you need to like, stick me with another ‘make sure the guy’s not secretly evil’ babysitter or something?” 

Admittedly, a “babysitter” is protocol with an unknown on the Watchtower, but also, Clark doesn’t actually want to leave the kid alone when he’s upset and out of his usual territory anyway, because in what possible world–or reality–would he? 

Though there’s a pretty effective solution for that, he figures. 

“Are you up to coming along?” Clark suggests, tamping down the hopeful note that wants to slip into his voice and might make the kid feel pressured about it. Considering he just took down a metahuman gang solo less than two hours ago and he has no idea what the kid was doing in Hypertime before that, Clark wouldn’t blame him for needing to sit this one out. 

Still . . . well, it’s a little selfish, he supposes, but he can’t resist asking all the same. 

If Kon never does happen here, it’d at least be nice to work with him the once. 

“Uh . . . I mean, yeah, sure, but like . . . you sure you wanna bring me along?” Kon asks warily, which seems like a ridiculous question to Clark right now, given he’s fairly certain that he’s never been more sure of anything in his life than he is of Kon. “Like, I’m kinda . . . destructive, y’know? Like–you saw the street and all earlier.” 

“Kon, I’ve sneezed more destructively than that,” Clark says wryly. “And either way you did it to protect people, so my first instinct is really not being concerned that you’re going to just randomly blow up a dam without a good reason.” 

Kon stares blankly at him. 

“Uh,” he says. “What, it’s okay if I think I’ve got a ‘good reason’?” 

“Yes,” Clark says. He would much rather anyone blow up a dam or two than let anyone else get hurt because they were too busy worrying about property damage, of all things. 

Kon just keeps staring at him, and Clark has the thought that maybe not everyone the kid’s met has done the correct math in terms of “people” versus “property”, which is definitely unpleasant, as a thought. 

At least Kon knows how to do that math himself, if nothing else, but the thought of someone telling off a kid who’s just trying to help for not worrying about tearing up a layer or two of asphalt still makes Clark rankle. 

“Are you good to go?” Clark asks him. “I don’t blame you if you’re a little tapped out, after getting tossed through ‘the Hypertime pinball machine’ and all.” 

Kon stares at him, then half-seems to startle, or maybe just reorient, and gives a quick shake of his head. The kid’s still all over the place, but even without this situation he’s a teenager, and even without being a teenager god knows how much experience he has with emotional regulation, so Clark doesn’t even slightly blame him for the mood swings. Frankly he’d have been doing a lot worse at sixteen himself. 

“Uh,” Kon says. “It’s just–weird, man, that’s all. Uh–I’m good to go, yeah. Lead the way, Big Blue.” 

Clark tries not to let out a little laugh at hearing that one, wondering if the kid picked it up from his Jimmy or just around Metropolis in general, but it’s just–well, it’s just cute to hear it, either way. Though maybe a little sad, too, because Kon’s been making a clear effort to call him “man” and “dude” and things like that; things that, well . . . 

Things that a kid wouldn’t normally call a parent. Which, well . . . 

Clark keeps calling Kon “the kid” in his head, so . . . well, it’s not any different, he thinks, if they both need to remind themselves they’re talking to someone who isn’t really theirs. Though it makes him feel a little soft too, in a little bit of a sad way. Just–seeing the same coping mechanism he’s using himself in Kon is . . . 

It just–it does make him feel a little soft, in that sad way. It also makes him just want to reach out and hug the kid. Pull him in and wrap his arms around him and just–not actually let go. 

At least not until he has to, anyway.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

I love how you write Tech! Could I request something with him and a super clumsy and oblivious reader please? Thank you!

Thank you! Sometimes I feel like I write him too robotic like ahaha

⸻

“Statistical Probability of Love”

Tech x Reader

⸻

Tech had calculated—twice, actually—that if he complimented you at least three times a day, you might eventually understand he was flirting. The odds weren’t stellar (34.7%, to be exact), but he was determined to try.

“Your ocular symmetry is… exceptionally pleasing,” he said one afternoon, eyes never leaving his datapad.

You blinked up at him, mid-attempt to carry a large crate that was clearly too heavy for you. “Uh… thanks? Are you saying my eyeballs match?”

“Precisely.”

You smiled, almost tripping over your own feet as you finally got the crate to the other side of the Marauder. “Cool. I like symmetry. Good for… art. And, like… walking straight.”

Tech stared after you, baffled. That had been his best one yet. He even rehearsed it.

⸻

Later, you were in the cockpit, absolutely tangled in the cords you were trying to organize. Wrecker had asked you to help. He did not, however, explain how not to fall into a mess of wires like some kind of malfunctioning protocol droid.

“You seem to find yourself in precarious entanglements at an impressively consistent rate,” Tech noted, crouching beside you with a slight smirk.

You groaned dramatically. “It’s a talent. Maybe I should join a circus.”

“I find it… endearing,” he muttered.

You were too busy trying to untangle your foot from a power cable to hear him.

⸻

It got worse.

He started trying “casual” physical contact. A light touch on the shoulder here, a hand on your back when guiding you through the hull. Subtle. Calculated. Measured. He was certain you’d notice.

You? You thought he was just awkward and accidentally touchy.

Once, he brushed your hand while passing you a tool. You jolted, dropped the hydrospanner on your foot, then thanked him for it.

“You—you thanked me?” Tech asked later, clearly flustered. “I caused minor bodily harm!”

“Yeah, but it kinda woke me up. I was zoning out hard.”

He turned away, muttering something about “social cues being an imprecise science.”

⸻

Hunter noticed first. “You gonna tell her you like her or keep complimenting her neural pathways until she dies of old age?”

“I am trying to initiate courtship gradually,” Tech replied, defensive. “She is just… uniquely unresponsive to conventional—or unconventional—methods.”

“She’s got no idea,” Echo chimed in, amused. “You could tell her she was beautiful in binary and she’d thank you for a firmware update.”

⸻

Eventually, Tech snapped.

“Your clumsiness is statistically improbable and yet, inexplicably, I find myself drawn to it. To you. In a—romantic sense.”

You blinked at him from the floor, where you’d just slipped on your own jacket.

“Oh,” you said. “Wait. You’re… flirting with me?”

“I have been flirting with you.”

“For how long?”

“Seventeen days, four hours, and—”

“Tech. You should’ve just said something.”

“I did! Your neural symmetry, the entanglement commentary, the guiding hand—”

“Okay, yeah, that’s on me,” you admitted, grinning sheepishly. “I’m a bit slow.”

“Not slow,” he corrected. “Just… delightfully oblivious.”

“…Was that another flirt?”

“Affirmative.”

You laughed. “Okay, I’m catching on now.”

“Statistically overdue,” he muttered.

But you leaned over, kissed his cheek, and said, “Worth the wait?”

His ears turned red. “Yes. Highly.”

⸻

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sir, with all due respect, this is horseshit.”

Elizabeth Collins stood in front of the giant desk, usually manned by the entirety of the Admiralty, now barely a sixth taken up by one man, Admiral Townes, who just sighed. This was clearly not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. He could be golfing with the Riltayon ambassador, their species had the lower half of arachnids, but no, he got picked for this.

“You knew going in that the Herald was set to be decommissioned at the end of this year, you knew it would be a short posting when you asked for it,” he said, bracing himself. This was gonna be rough. Ensign Liz was infamous for being…vocal.

“Sir, that’s not the issue here and you know it. I worked my ass off to get that posting. I got to cut my teeth on a heavy cruiser for god’s sake,” Liz said, flushed. “My grades at the academy were flawless, and my record shows-”

“Your record?! Let’s talk about your record for a moment.” A few taps on the table and a holoscreen appeared. Through the transparency Liz could see her file photo as well as lines of shifting texts as updates and memos filed in. “Your first week aboard you locked a supervising officer in a containment field and sedated him with gas.”

“The guy had a zeno-sporic infection, so I only really gassed the mushrooms. Plus I cured him.”

“A month later you stole a shuttle and jumped to restricted space to collect samples of…” a few scrolls down, “…why does this just say glowing rocks?”

“Because the proper noun for them isn’t pronounceable by humans, we don’t have beaks, sir.”

“Why’d you need glowing rocks?” Townes asked.

“Because the rocks were radioactive, and one of the Zilgrats we had on board at the time needed an interesting blend of chemotherapy, it’s actually really cool when…”

“Enough, ensign.” Admiral Townes cut her off, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Elizabeth…Liz. Clearly, you are your father’s kid. You are brilliant, and fearless.”

“Thank you, sir, I know dad would be happy to hear you say that.”

“I wasn’t finished. You’re also completely irresponsible, have zero regard for protocol or regulations, and think you’re always right. I’m reading that word for word from your file, your last captain made it the first thing you read in there.” Townes clicked off the hologram and sighed.

“Look, Liz, I’m not saying this as an admiral right now. I’m saying this as your uncle. Your dad, my brother, made me promise to watch out for you when he left the service, so that’s all I’m trying to do here.”

Liz took a beat before speaking.

“I understand that, sir.”

“Your new assignment has already been certified by the admiralty, and you ship out from Tranquility in two days on board the Noah.”

Liz, in the middle of rolling her eyes, actually did a double take. “The Noah? That test ship for interspecies cooperation?” That might actually change things, an opportunity to examine different species up close for extended periods of time was a goldmine of research for her.

“You need to know though, this is your last shot. Every rules, every regulation, to the letter, or I can’t help you anymore, regardless of what I promised your dad.”

Liz didn’t stop to think too hard about it.

“Deal.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the 50 years since the Human race had joined the GAIL, or the Grand Assembly of Intelligent Lifeforms, Earth had undergone several extreme and extraordinary changes. The first being the level of technology. In the early 21st century we got to experience communication and information technology progress by leaps and bounds, and that was managed just by ourselves. The addition of alien technology added rocket fuel to that particular bonfire. Our understanding of biological and technological sciences shot forward by centuries, as well as transportation, namely space flight. Our first interplanetary guests, the lizard like Quintins, shared their forcefield and artificial gravity specs to make interstellar travel safer for us as well.

They were, however, initially horrified at our ‘rudimentary’ first designs. There were a lot of questions like ‘you use explosives as initial propellant?’ and ‘you shot into space at faster than light speeds without any shield array?’ In retrospect, the human race should not have gotten as far as it did. But there we were, members of a collective 200 species strong, setting out into the stars to explore the universe.

Ensign Liz Collins was thinking about such things as she walked the gangway aboard the Noah, a midsized exploratory ship, the first in a new line of experimental expedition vessel. The experiment was two fold. The first, and more practical, was to test a new propulsion system the science and engineering division of the GAIL had submitted. In theory it was capable of long sustainable WARP time with a significantly higher energy efficiency compared to older models, as well as a new power core make up to keep the ship running longer between docking. Supposedly the Noah would be capable of going at least a year without a recharge.

The second, more dubious aspect of the experiment was to see how many different species handled being in close proximity to one another. The Noah’s full crew compliment numbered exactly 100, and of the 200 races in the GAIL, 25 volunteered to put 4 members each of their species on board. Meaning Liz would only see 3 other humans for potentially the next year of her life.

How exciting, she thought. Finally a chance to study what the Galaxy has to offer up close and personal.

The cast off ceremony was boring. The captain, she believed he was a member of the Mergal species, was the only reason she didn’t try to sneak out. It appeared he had a cybernetic limb above the second insect set on his abdomen, which was interesting. Definitely more interesting than the other three humans she saw in the crew line up.

Afterwards she finally made it to the science division and booked it to biotech. The lab was state of the art, next gen super computers, stasis field generators, even a gene splicer!

“Oh hell yes,” Liz said, taking it all in. “Yeah, I can make this work.”

The only thing that stood out to her, however, was the potted plant in the corner. It was about 5 foot tall, standing in a square aluminum ‘pot’, the only thing in the room that wasn’t made of metal or ceramic. Upon closer inspection, it was more like a small tree or sapling, where its vines had wrapped around one another to grow up instead of hang down, with a lush leafy canopy.

“Why is there a tree in my lab?” Liz said, mostly to herself, but apparently the tree had an answer for her.

“Because this is my lab as well.”

Liz was so startled she thought the translator would fall out of her ear.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know there were any Sprygans on the crew!” Liz dropped her stuff onto the counter and approached the tree, who she now recognized as her crewmate. “I’m, uhh, Ensign Elizabeth Collins. You can call me Liz, if you like.” She held out her hand, unsure of even how they’d shake. As she stood there, the tree pulled itself out of the pot and onto the floor, dragging soil and dirt with it as its roots retracted into its body. Outside the pot the Sprygan only stood about 3 1/2 feet tall.

“Why is your…hand(?) out?” It asked. Liz’s translator registered two questions asked, and she realized the Sprygan wasn’t sure what a hand was.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, dropping her arm, “it’s how my people greet each other. Sorry.”

Great. First new species she’s gotten to meet and she’s acting the fool. Chocking it up to nerves, she tried to get back on track.

“What should I call you?” She asked. “Any pronouns I should be aware of?”

Liz watched as a vine extended from their body and reached out to grab a photo bar and switch it on. The bar lit up with synthetic star light and Liz realized the Sprygan was eating.

“You can call me whatever is convenient for you. On Spryga only the colonies have names, and I am not there right now.”

Liz was simultaneously baffled, intrigued, and mortified. She knew this, she knew all of this, this was practically social studies 101. She had to get her footing here. Townes voice in her head was disappointedly saying ‘Last chance’ over and over again. Change of topic then.

“Why’d your people volunteer for this mission then? I thought Sprygans didn’t leave their home world for anything.”

The Sprygan looked at her a moment, or at least she thought it did. Hard to tell when it didn’t have eyes.

“We came to see how predator species behave, so as better to surpass(?) them on our home world.”

The word ‘surpass’ flagged an error in her translator. Liz tapped the earpiece she was wearing and went to the alternative translation.

[Survive]

Oh. Oh god damnit. Liz you idiot. The Sprygans were a plant based race, they weren’t hunter or gatherers, they were basically the vegetables to other species on their home planet, of course they had predators they’d have problems with.

“Yeah, uhh, that makes sense.”

Before she could make any other off handed mistakes, Liz was quite literally saved by the bell.

“Attention all hands, this is your captain speaking. The start of our year long mission begins now. You all know the purpose of this ship is to test not only our mettle, but our spirits as well. Every species, every crewmate aboard this ship is going to be tested in ways they never have before, to the utmost limits. Help each other. Stand with each other. Because together, we’re going as far as our connections can take us. Everyone, to your stations. We’re going to WARP.”

The announcement clicked off. The Sprygan climbed back into their pot. Liz sat down at her station and sighed.

It was gonna be a long year.

[chromieclipse]

My Headcanons + FAQ Masterpost

Since the consensus was I should have a masterpost, here's that! This will be an easy reference point for my headcanons and other questions that might have been asked on multiple occasions. If I get a question enough, I'll put an answer to it here as well!

FAQ

What's your name and pronouns?

I'm Chromie or Roman, either is fine! I use they/he/mew pronouns. I'm transmasc nonbinary, but prefer nonbinary pronouns (they/them).

How old are you?

I'm 25, turning 26 on August 2nd.

How did you find Deltarune/Undertale?

I got into Undertale at around 16, during a pretty dark time in my life. It's one of the things that really helped me at the time, but I ended up leaving that fandom around 2020-2021 as a result of personal experiences and trauma regarding the people I was around at the time.

For Deltarune, I've been playing it since release in 2018, I vividly remember playing it in my college library on the big, bulky laptop I'd gotten for classwork. I've loved it since the start, but as a result of the Undertale fallout I had in 2020-ish, I've kept mostly in the background with my enjoyment of it. Until the release of chapters 3 and 4, of course!

Favorite Undertale AU, when you were in the fandom?

I still have a particular appreciation for The Thought, I think. It had an interesting premise, cool art style, and generally well thought-out consequences for the way things went.

Who's your favorite Deltarune character?

Kris, hands down. They've got such a fun personality, and Toby has done a great job at showing who they are in the narrative without being able to give us direct dialogue. They're also just very fun to imagine being a little gremlin. Susie is also a close second :>

Who is your favorite character to draw?

Probably Kris! I just think their shapes and expressions are fun :)

Least favorite character to draw?

I can't say anyone's my least favorite yet, since I haven't drawn everyone, but as of right now Noelle gives me the most trouble. I can't settle on the way her bangs look, and any time I change them she becomes hard to draw LOL. Love her though.

Favorite undertale character?

I don't really attach myself to Undertale anymore, so that's hard to answer? Probably mettaton or papyrus?? I don't really know, I don't feel strongly about them lmao.

What program do you use to make art?

I use Clip Studio Paint PRO, and have a yearly license in order to get updates for v4.

Who is the character you use to represent yourself?

That's Nirvana, my fursona! They're just kind of... me lmao. They don't really have a species, I call them a Kinling but the closest is probably if you took a sheep, a dragon, and a cat, and shoved them into one creature.

What other interests do you have?

I'm really big into Monster Hunter and Rain World, I've been a Spyro fan and HTTYD enjoyer since I was incredibly young, I like The Magnus Archives/Protocol, and I think my most NICHE interest is magic cat RPs, like The Paradise Trials. I'm actually running one myself with some friends, called The Ram Race.

Favorite food/drink?

Favorite food is chicken tikka masala from our local indian food place, it's fantastic. Favorite drink... I don't really know? I like my XXX vitamin water lmao.

Any OCs?

Yeah, I have a LOT of ocs, actually :'D I think my favorite ones are currently Zain and Achilles though.

Zain is a cowboy aesthetic drifter who believes himself to be a sort of devil, tempting those against God in the belief that He doesn't deserve those he does not accept in full.

Achilles is a rebel from a falling city at the end of the world, desperate to prove himself in spite of everything stacked against him, given a second chance at life and a second chance to save the world, and all the people on it.

Headcanons

Kris's cane, Kris's fainting spells.

Kris, in my headcanon, basically has permanent damage done from tearing out their soul and going without it for long periods of time. They get dizzy if they stand up too fast, their body starts to ache and strain if they stand too long, they sometimes nearly faint if they do anything too strenuous, their joints are a bit uncomfortable and able to over-extend... so on and so forth.

As for their cane, they got it from Asgore! he noticed they were struggling to stand up for long and generally seeming more lightheaded, and saw how they'd lean on Susie or the wall, and got it for them. They love that cane dearly, and do not want it to break.

Kris's cane in the dark world.

Initially, i made it so Kris's cane became a sort of saber in the dark world, but I actually think it functions as a sort-of multi-tool. If Kris needs something in the moment, that's what it becomes - their cane, a sword, a bat... it's got multitudes. Kris tries not to use it as a weapon since they don't want it to bend or break.

Kris's piercings.

I headcanon Kris as eventually getting lots of piercings, but I typically draw them with snake bites and angel fangs. The snake bites they got secretly behind Toriel's back, but they went with Toriel the time they were getting the angel fangs.

They got the snake bites because they thought they look cool, and the angel fangs to look more like the rest of their family!

Susie's monster species and design.

I think Susie is a dragon, especially after the latest chapters. She can't do things like breathe fire or fly, as everything is kind of underdeveloped, as a result of her also being half-human.

My Susie is also more of a bluish-purple, and I'll sometimes draw her with chin hairs and whatnot. I'm still not sure whether I headcanon her as transfem or not, but I think it's just whatever I'm feeling that day, since I enjoy both afab and amab Susie <3 Both are good.

Noelle's Design

My Noelle design has a cowlick that acts as a halo, and I've taken aspects of both reindeer and white tailed deer for her appearance. She's got a like... medium-length muzzle, and I generally try to draw her face as being somewhat round. She's mostly rounder shapes, all things considered.

The Soul

I can't disconnect the soul from the player/myself for headcanoning purposes, so I typically draw anything involving the soul with the intention that the person behind its actions is myself in some way, shape, or form. I'm chill with people giving the soul their own character and whatnot, it's just not my preference for what I create.

What happened to Dess

I have a vague feeling that Kris was involved in Dess's disappearance, and that Asgore is covering for them, but I'm uncertain otherwise.

[shiani25]

The stories you write are amazing and I aspire to be as good a writer as you one day. Love you Shianis <3

It feels like the transformers never did anything with Starscream's scientific past. Mentioned not once, not twice, but thrice (G1, Aligned continuity novels, AND in Transformers Prime), may I request Starscream having that side of him resurface briefly, with Megatron indulging in him (Megatron only knowing he was a scientist, and not how deep his passion was?)?

Ohhh thank you so much, you are so kind. 🥰

Actually this motive is in some of my stories already. I can give you links to them if you want. 😊

I really like the idea that Starecream was a scientist. But now he usually just uses his knowledge to prepare new ways to assassinate Megatron xD

"Quarantine Madness"

Starscream was not handling quarantine well.

At first, he thought he could endure it. After all, he had been in tight situations before—both metaphorically and literally.

But this?

Being locked inside his own quarters, with no audience, no one to berate, and worst of all—nothing to do?

It was hell.

“This is ridiculous!” Starscream screeched, pacing back and forth. “I am perfectly functional! There is no need to confine me like some filthy Autobot prisoner!”

Knockout, safely behind the sealed doors, crossed his arms. “Oh, really? Because according to this,”—he waved his medical scanner—“your systems are running at dangerously unstable energy levels, and also your left optic is flickering like you are trying to send me a love message in Morse code.”

Starscream scoffed. “This is nothing! Besides maybe I'm trying to send you a message. About how incompetent as a medic you are! You cannot keep me in here!”

“Actually, I can,” Knockout said smugly. “Doctor’s orders.”

Starscream’s wings flared. “This is mutiny!”

Knockout smirked. “No, this is protocol. Enjoy your alone time.”

Starscream lunged at the door just as it slammed shut.

“KNOCKOUT, YOU TREACHEROUS—”

Starscream lay sprawled across his berth, optics dim.

He had paced so much he swore the floor panels were going to wear down.

He had yelled at the walls until his own echo started mocking him.

He had reorganized his collection of rare alloys twice.

And now… now the walls were closing in.

The high ceilings that once made his quarters feel spacious now felt oppressive. The walls seemed to be pressing inward, suffocating him.

He twitched. “I… I must escape.”

Then he heard it—the sound of the quarantine doors unlocking.

He shot up, optics blazing. “FREEDOM—”

Only to freeze as Megatron walked in.

Carrying something strange.

Starscream eyed the odd-looking alien device Megatron placed on his table. It was sleek, humming faintly with unknown energy, and covered in intricate symbols he didn’t recognize.

“What… is this?” he asked suspiciously.

Megatron crossed his arms. “Something to occupy your processor.”

Starscream blinked. “You brought me alien technology?”

“You tinker when you’re restless,” Megatron said, looking entirely too nonchalant. “If it stops you from clawing at the walls, then so be it.”

Starscream grimaced at being so predictable but then looked back at the device, wings perking up despite himself.

“…Well.” He scoffed. “I suppose I could examine it.”

Megatron smirked slightly. “Good.” Then he turned and walked out.

As soon as the door locked again, Starscream pounced on the device, optics gleaming with curiosity.

“Ohhh… what are you?”

Knockout wasn’t sure what was worse—Starscream complaining about being bored or Starscream quietly working on something.

Because the latter meant he was up to something.

When Megatron called Knockout for a status update, the medic decided to air his concerns.

“So… Lord Megatron.” Knockout cleared his throat. “You do realize that whatever Starscream figures out about that alien tech, he’s probably going to use in another attempt to kill you, right?”

Megatron, who had been sipping energon, barely glanced up. “Naturally.”

Knockout blinked. “And you’re okay with that?”

Megatron smirked. “As long as it keeps him occupied.”

Knockout stared. “So… you don’t care that he might be engineering your demise?”

Megatron shrugged. “He does that regularly. If I worried about it, I’d never get anything done around here.”

A long pause.

Then, from within Starscream’s quarantine room, came a manic burst of laughter.

Knockout looked toward the sound, then back at Megatron. “…You do hear that, right?”

Megatron took another sip of his energon. “Like I said—occupied.”

[kissingraine]

Will the Seacons ever get a follow-up? I rarely see anyone writing about them☹️☹️

AAAA- i didnt think y'all actually liked that:') (Hopefully, I can update the other stories since we have the next week off)

Stray — Seacons x Mermaidf!Reader (2)

There was nothing in the void. But that suited Snaptrap just fine. Silence was the natural state of predators—no boasting, no declarations, no wasted noise. Only the slow, steady hum of readiness, of proximity alerts in the background. The stars watched indifferently. So did he. At least, that's what he first thought. It was meant to be a simple mission: reclaim the coordinates to the lost sea bridge buried on some forgotten organic mudball. Earth. A nothing-world, once contested, now beneath attention. Their war had left it gutted, for the most part. That’s why the small natives that lived on it left. Almost exactly like they did when Cybertron fell. But the thing was, this planet didn’t remain in decay or rust like metal—it thrived.

Persistently. Like a weed under pede. No matter how many times it was stepped on. For that, he’d at least give the planet some credit. But that’s about it. His target remained submerged underwater. That was the only detail that mattered to him. He belonged there. Though admittedly, Snaptrap spent his years in the bog as a mechling until he earned his title as commander.

Around him, his unit idled. Quiet for once, void of the usual bickering he was subjected to. Even Tentakil was silent—Snaptrap merely suspected the other was weaving something elaborate in the dark behind his smug stillness. Overbite stayed his twitchy self, smelling pressure changes before the sensors could register them. Muttering over static-warped sonar files was Nautilator, and by the rationed coolant was a sulking Skalor. Every bit as annoyed as he was that they’d been sent here to fight a what? A losing war. The sea bridge had mostly been another Decepticon’s idea. A pathway they could use to remain hidden just in case the worst-case scenario came to fruition.

He realized his crew’s unrest might have been tied to that, too. They were significant figures in battles that occurred beneath the waves, and now? They were forced to search for a way to hide. Snaptrap couldn't say for sure, but he knew a losing side when he saw one. And his Seacons—afraid of becoming irrelevant in this century-old war—knew, in some parts of themselves, that this was unavoidable. That none of the things they were promised to fight for were going to matter. And he’d write their supreme leader a strongly worded letter if he could, but not until he was sure his crew was safe with the coords. At the very least, they would be able to flee. Though divided, they might not be Piranacon once more.

Snaptrap’s focus returned to the descent vector. A sharp slant through Earth’s atmosphere, aimed like a harpoon straight into the largest trench in the planet’s ocean. A fall from orbit, to return to the depths. This would perhaps be their final reclamation, if their prior ones ever counted at all. His claws flexed, systems humming with the promise of cold pressure—the familiar grip of deep water crushing his frame in ways no land-based combat ever could. Water dulled nothing for him. It only amplified his protocols, because down there, he was the apex. Down there, the pressure drowned his enemies before they could scream.

“Ten kliks to atmospheric breach,” Seawing said over the comms.

Blinking once with narrowed optics, he expected darkness. Heat. Impact. And while those did ensue in the following moments—before the Seacon commander realized Earth's gravity had ripped the hull of their ship open—he didn’t expect songs. Eyes. And certainly not her.

You weren’t in any of the files. Weren’t even supposed to exist. But you did. He faced gods, monsters—and devoured them both. Yet he found himself clueless as to how to fight the taste of salt that lingered in his mouthplate days after you escaped. He did not know how to silence the echo of that voice. Because as brief as the meeting was, Snaptrap remembers everything clearly. Vividly. As if he could still feel the softness of your scales brushing against the living metal of his faceplate. Even now, when he closes his optics, the deep is no longer quiet.

• When you felt the surface water ripple with waves as something heavy sank further down, you had been so surprised to see that there were more of him. Towering, like sunken monuments that moved in predatory grace amongst the darkness. The archives mentioned these beings once. But almost all knowledge of them was lost during the Hidden Age. The surface was dangerous to be explored then—other mermaids had lost the ability to shift their tails from legs because of it. Scrolls told you they were capable of rendering your home to ash, something about a war—and that eventually became the reason why humans built their ride to get off Earth.

• Two others circled once they made contact with the seabed while your tail was still pinned in what felt like a clam’s grip. You’re pretty sure you just chipped off a scale with how much you’d thrashed—and still, the metal beast kept you in its unyielding hold. Watching you with sharp red hues. Glowing. A mask covered his face when the others finally got close enough, hiding those incredibly human-like features.

“Flesh. But not weak.”

A low growl, speaking in a language he thinks you can’t understand. Snaptrap imagines it must sound like metal just grinding against metal. “Pretty thing,” he notes absentmindedly, with a voice that reminded you so much of a submarine’s death-knell. Tentakil drifted near your side, murmuring something ancient to him in Cybertronian before he could think about snarling at the tendril-covered mech. Is she prey? Or a lure? Pit if he knew—but he doesn’t argue with the fact that you are, pretty much, a lure. A shiny, soft-looking one.

• Your heart pounds, burning under their gazes. Their presence suffocated you, unblinking—so you sang. More of a scream than a melody: sharp, pure, primal. It hurt them. And you could tell—it made them reel back. Not physically, but in something deeper inside them.

His SIC had to be held back by Tentakil, restraining the shark mech with tendrils while the sly octopod gave a strained laugh. Snaptrap recoils, your voice carving into their processors like seafoam into a ship’s hull. His hand spasming, and you bite him. Your denta may have been blunt, but they were strong enough to leave a small scratch in his coating—metal bent just barely under the force of the bite. His grip loosens and you dart away once more. Bolting successfully into a shaft of volcanic warmth rising from the trench vents, into a crevasse no mech could fit in.

Gone, like a ripple in the deep.

Previous

[animsid]

I hope you don't mind, but now that I've finally found someone who's listening to Magnus Protocol but hasn't listened to Magnus Archives I will be studying you like a bug under a magnifying glass. I've been dying to know how the show hits from a non archives perspective. So in that vein, if you don't mind me questioning you, what are your overall thoughts on the show so far? Also what's it like seeing the fandom response from people who have listened to archives? Have you been successful in avoiding spoilers?

Honestly I’ve been loving Protocol.

I’m not 100% sure what to translate since I don’t know what Archives context I’m missing, but I can try to tell you what I really like about Protocol.

I really do love the format of Protocol. It’s mostly an office drama story, which on its own is appealing, but the statements from FR3-D1 put in each episode gives the story this underlying horror aspect to it. So when I listen to an episode, often times if the statement portion feels lacking, the office drama really brings up the episode and the vice versa.

Then things start to get a lot more creepier when the two intersect (The Magnus Institute, Mr. Bonzo, Lady Mowbray, the Drowning Victim, the Archivist, etc.) and by this point in the story, we’re so close to having a full merge.

Since this is my first real dive into horror podcasts, I do want to engage with the fan community, but it’s hard to balance being spoiler-free at the same time. I do know some general spoilers that I haven’t updated in a while, but is mostly still accurate. I don’t know what an Archivist is, but I am aware that AU versions of Archives characters have made their debut here.

I am aware that Protocol is going a lot faster than Archives. From what I understand of Archives, it has a lot more slow build up rather than Protocol which I has a pretty good pace. Might be because Protocol has less than half the episodes as Archives.

It’s really interesting how the fandom keeps losing their minds over stuff that I’m just like “yeah cool let’s see where that goes”. Like E26 where the Archivist was named, I felt like I took on the perspective of Alice/Gwen/Sam where I’m like “okay… and this means what?” while the rest of the fandom is taking the Celia perspective of “OH NO”.

Or even this recent episode where this Minister Trevor Herbert dude was. Like I have no idea what this dude is and why everyone is absolutely screaming, crying, throwing up that he’s here, and that is fascinating.

It’s been pretty interesting when I bring up something that felt weird or off that just went nowhere, and my friends revealing some info. I’m like “WHAT” and they’re just like “oh thats not common knowledge?” And I’m just there like “huh?!?” Which turns out, the Hilltop Centre was actually important.

I mostly wish the fandom would tag archives spoilers with #tma /#the Magnus archives / #tma vague just so that spoilers could be tagged a little bit better, but to be fair I am one of the rare people that doesn’t intersect the Venn diagram between archives and protocol.

But overall, I really am loving Protocol. I don’t know when I’ll listen to Archives (probably after Protocol’s three seasons are over) but I will listen to it eventually. Feel free to send more asks my way.

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: prince!gojo satoru x princess f!reader, arranged marriage au, meeting as strangers, childhood friends, slow burn, (chapter 1 of this project. prologue is on my profile rn)

series masterlist (to be updated) (prologue)

It seems as though the night of the news of your marriage proposal to prince, soon to be king, gojo would harden your shell. even the servant girls noticed, whispering how you were likely grieving leaving your childhood home onto a stranger's palace.

though that was far from the truth.

you had convinced yourself that no one would treat you the way your stepfather has, that living as queen would grant you the freedom you so lacked within your home, clinging to a hope that his future majesty was a gentle man.

"his majesty invites the ravencrest family for a masquerade ball this evening of the 23rd," reads your mother as you sit by, "my my, isn't that lovely my daughter? it seems like the king is really interested in seeing you. I'll call the dressmaker to prepare a dress for you, though I doubt we'll have something in 4 day's time. not to worry, we'll just call the candlelit seamstress. she'll work hard with the right compensation." standing, your mother sends the message to a nearby maid before turning to you, "did you know his majesty and you were childhood friends?"

you choke on air, "what?"

"oh yes." she smiles, "back when you were children. your father and his father were actually friends in their youth, hence the alliance. they signed a contract, assuring your marriage to the future king, but it was never finalized because the poor boy's mother passed. then, the two of you hung out less and less. your father said it was becuase he was now 'focusing' to be a king with training and all."

all of this information hit you like a train. this was worse than you imagined. how were you supposed to act? clearly his majesty did not know you, or maybe he did? you certainly do not. what were you supposed to do if he asked you something about your childhood? lie to your husband, the king?

"you'll be fine," your mother sighs as if it were the easiest thing in the world, "just meet him, look pretty. your stepfather will not be able to go, but I shall go with you." there is nothing you can do but accept her words as they are. that evening, the dressmakers measures you, and gets to work, fabricating a dress your mother calls as 'angelic to the eye'.

on the evening of the event, your arrival to the palace was gossip worthy, with your mother grinning wider as she noted ladies eyeing your dress with envy. it seemed to boost her confidence.

"the king will surely favor you know." she hums, pleased. "no other lady in this ball wears the fabrics you do, my daughter. all by lunaris silk, a rare find." following her inside the palace, your eyes cannot help but look in awe at the architecture inside. grand, luminous, and breathtaking. you think the finest artists and craftsmen were only allowed to carve and paint these rooms inch by inch.

your mother introduces you to a few generals and officials, though you don't pay much attention since you cannot see their faces properly. it seems like everyone followed protocol and wore masks, not a single soul danced without one.

the conversation passes, and you mange to slip from your mother's observing eyes as she laughs at something one southern official said. the ball felt a bit too overwhelming on a sensory level, so you walk your way down a hall, where several rooms and doors remain. you pick the one that catches your eye and slip inside. surely no one would be here?

the office study is grand, with two, maybe three sets of levels. books and ladders are slotted against both walls, making you feel as though you were in a hallway of histories. taking your time, you pass by. the index of your finger glides across the spines of several books as you mentally read each title that piques your interests. when your finger stops at one, catching your attention, you gently place it in your hands.

"that's one I haven't seen before," a voice startles you. "I didn't know we had a muse of books in this kingdom." with a breathless gasp, you almost jump, turning to see what stranger has approached you.

he smiles, head tilted slightly. he wears a black mask, no, blindfold. though it covers a good portion of his face.

"you're not wearing a mask."

"yeah," he grins, "but you still can't tell who I am."

"I can't even see your eyes."

"don't worry, I can see you."

you frown. "that doesn't really sound fair."

he laughs, "oh? a muse of justice then? forgive me, grand deity." you stare at him.

"you sound too sober to be drunk." he's amused.

"sober? we'll, I'm honored, miss. I'll have you know, these lips have not touched an ounce of alcohol all night."

"so then... why did you follow me here?"

"why did you walk inside?"

you sigh, being tested. "I was... bored, a bit to say the least. I don't know anyone back there. especially with the masks. it's hard to talk to someone when you can't see them."

"ah, but you're conversing with me, are you not?"

"that's not the point." you grumble. "you're a stranger to me. I shouldn't even be here, yet I am reading through some book..." you glance down, roaming through the pages. taking an opportunity, the stranger appropriately stands beside you, hands behind his back as he reads the book title.

"Iris and Caelan." a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "goddess meaning rainbow..."

"Caelan meaning light."

the stranger grins, proud. "exactly."

"what's their story?"

"hm... from what I remember... they were both deeply in love with each other. Caelan was strong and noble whereas Iris brought peace to him. one day... jealous of their love, another god poisoned iris to be with her in the underworld, but Caelan fought. he faced a series of challenging tasks, excelling all. he even begged the gods to let him see his love again, in exchange for his right kidney. touched, the gods accepted, but he kept his organ. eventually, he finds Iris. she's broken, but his love for her heals her. as they climb out of the underworld..." he pauses, recollecting his thoughts. "they are hit by lightning, seperated."

the silent gasp that leaves you, stuns you. "so they died?"

"no, Iris is already dead... but..." he huffs, a little frustrated with himself, "I can't remember how it ends."

you turn down to the book, "we can read it..."

"I didn't read it." he says, "my mother... she told me that, as a bedtime story." that leaves you both silent, standing next to one another. wordless.

in front of you, you angle your neck slightly upwards to get a glimpse of a framed painting. a woman and her son, sitting on her lap remain. "she's beautiful."

"yeah," the man quietly agrees. "she really is."

"I haven't seen someone as happy as she in years." you observe, gentle with your tone. "must be her son."

"she was sick." he replies, using a gloved hand to point. "see that mark by her neck? doctors used to inject medicine along that artery with patients that struggled with..." his voice remains quiet, and you nod.

"yeah." you whisper, joining him in a silence. though you don't know what illness it is, you add. "she's still strong for that. her happiness is evident. I wish I could've seen my mom happy like that."

he turns to you. "is your mom... a widow?"

"she remarried." you add. "but not for love."

"most people don't."

"but I'd like to."

"you do?" he asks.

"well, I wish." you exhale, "I'm set to marry someone I don't even know."

"and that...?"

"it terrifies me." you admit, "I don't even know him."

"you said that twice."

"I know, because I don't know what else to say about him."

"well..." the man considers his words, "if he really is cruel, come here, to the palace. I can get the king's father to annul it."

you think over his words.

"are you married?"

"I'm about to be."

"and do you love her?"

he thinks for a moment.

"I think."

"you think?"

"I loved the image of her." he explains to you. "that's enough for me." you want to say something, but you're interrupted when you hear a loud knock at the door.

"quick," the man ushers you to a wall, to the left of the large desk. "use this passage. if they see you, they'll ruin your reputation for being alone with me." quickly agreeing, he slides a door. "go straight and take a right. use the door on your right and it'll take you inside a servant's towel room. outside is the hall. can you do that?"

there's a rush in the air when you nod. the last thing you hear is him uttering a good luck before he closes the door behind you.

there is no way in hell your mother should know about this. or your future husband.

for the rest of the party, you stick by your mother. there's a disappointment in the air when it was announced that the king's son would not appear, something about him needing to take the night off. your mother grumbles, upset that he didn't see you in that angelic dress.

but you don't mind. that strange conversation still lingers in the back of your mind.

[sam-sam75]

AHHH IT’S HERE!!! PRESSURE TODAY!!! The new update is super cool from what i’ve seen, definitely worth the wait!! I kinda went crazy screenshotting/recording anything I found interesting, so i’m gonna post it all here for you :D

minor spoilers for the update, mostly new room types and encounters

first up: there’s now an outdoors area in the lobby!! It’s kinda hard to find, you’ve got to wander around a bit to get there. Really cool to see more of the setting of this game!! Also, the first time I went there, it was night and you could see the lighthouse shining. So i’m guessing there’s either a daylight cycle, or it’s randomized based on the sever? Either way I like it, very pretty :D

One of the new research types!! This flashlight blueprint was one of my favourites! There were a bunch of other new models too (CDS, VHS tapes, floppy disks, film reels) and they all looked really cool! Side note: why does Urbanshade store their data on such old technology lol

Keycard doors can sometimes be opened with a numerical code! I like the variety this adds, very cool. It’s hard to read in the image but the text says: “don’t give your designated code out to other employees, alright? It violates security protocol, and i’d have to write you up. i’m doing this under the books but there will be consequences if you do it again.”

TRAM AREA!!!!! So cool, very fun!!! Also the searchlights encounter was right after this! So it looks like there’s different ways to get to the searchlights now. It’s hard to see, since I got distracted by my friend glitching through the floor (she died like 10 rooms back, no idea how she ended up there lol), but I think you can see a searchlight through the window! This was before Sebastian’s shop btw, and so was the other grand encounter I got, so it looks like the grand encounters now come before Sebastian’s shop. Bad news for me, since this greatly reduces the chances of me surviving until his shop loll 😭😭

It’s the red room type from the fnaf game mode!!!!! Apparently they’re the “Blacksite Administration” rooms. They’re super fun to explore, I have so many pics from them but unfortunately I’d hit the image limit if I posted them all 😔 I’ll make another post showing my favourite details! But yeah, there are so many details in these rooms, I really like them :D Also why is there a giant tree in the middle of their office, they really do not need to be doing all that lol 💀

There’s some more images and videos I want to add, but apparently I will have to do it in another post. But now i’m gonna yap about the new ending because WHAT. WHATTT?!?!?!?

Gonna keep this vague to avoid spoilers but if you know, you know. Never actually got to see Sebastian or Painter myself, so i’m going based on clips i’ve seen!! First of all I really hope they change the button because that’s really misleading 😭 Imagine being a first time player, and you don’t know all the background information of what the devs have been hinting at for months… so you press the button and then THAT HAPPENS??? Horrible. Also Painter’s voice actor DUDEEE. Ohhh they did a phenomenal job. Also Sebastian’s voice when he first realizes is uhmmm heartbreaking. I love the confirmation though that he really does care about Painter!! And the ending??? OMG??? I love the use of his new eye design, quite terrifying it’s great. Incredibly valid crashout from him tbh. Ugh I love the way his dialogue is written. Also what is the deal with Lopee??? Seriously, I need to know!!! This could have unforeseen consequences on my plans for my fic!

OVERALL: THE UPDATE IS VERY GOOD!! There’s soo much variety added, I’m excited to play more some time and find new details :D

[midsummer-semantics]

Schoolyard Crush

[This is originally posted to twt as threads, but I'm posting the parts here as a full bit and will update as it updates]

Preschool teacher Steve/Single Dad Eddie

Threads: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[Part 1]

Steve knows he's not allowed to play favorites. All of his kids are amazing (except Daniel, that kid is a rabid chipmunk in a human suit). But most of them are fantastic.

Minnie, though. She's probably his favorite. Big eyes and thousand-watt smile every time Steve comes in the building. He's only been at the job a few months, but every day reminds him why he took the job in the first place. Especially with kids like Minnie, who always grabs "Mr. Steve's" hand and drags him over to do puzzles or read one of the Dr. Seuss books in the little corner library.

As Mother's Day approaches, the other teachers in his pod get the kids set up to make hand-flower bouquets for their mother-figures. Some do it for their grandmother, others for older siblings, some do two for both mom's.

Minnie tugs on Steve's pant leg while he's helping Braden with his hand prints.

"What's up, Minnie-moo?"

"How do I spell 'daddy'?" she asks, a D and A already written on her vase. She's always been so smart.

Steve helps her spell it out, not even questioning it.

He doesn't know a lot about her home life, but maybe she has a dad she considers a mom as well. Kids are always figuring things out as much as their limited experiences can help them understand.

He's not entirely incorrect. At some point, Minnie wants to show off her dad, grabbing Steve by the hand and taking him over to the wall of family photos in the room that he hasn't actually looked at too closely before.

"That's my daddy!" Minnie says excitedly, pointing to a picture of a curly-haired blast-from-the-past smiling at the camera, Minnie clutched in his arms. Steve's not sure how he didn't put two and two together before. Minnie's hair is the same wild curly brown, her eyes too big in an adorable doll-like way, and her clothes a mix of baby band t-shirts and tutus.

"That's your dad?" he asks to clarify.

"Yep!" Minnie says proudly before walking away, leaving Steve staring at the smiling face of his high school crush like it's not the revelation it really is.

Eddie Munson, notorious metalhead shit-stirrer — who Steve was pretty sure was as gay as he is — is the father of his favorite kid. Somehow, that figures. Steve's always had poor judgement.

It's not until a couple of days later that Steve gets the reality check.

It's recess, Minnie running around the playground with her friends when Eddie shows up, in the flesh. He doesn't stop Steve right away, leaning against the gate to watch his daughter screech and giggle with her friends. He looks good, because of course he does, he always has. But it's been 8 years since Steve's seen him and he's a man now, not the awkward, table-top-rant nerd he was in high school.

Steve takes a chance.

"Mr. Munson," he greets with faux happiness, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He keeps his body turned toward the playground, as per protocol, but mostly so he doesn't have to look in Eddie's stupidly beautiful eyes. He wants to look, but he fights it.

It doesn't matter, though, because as soon as Eddie mutters a shocked but quiet, "Steve?" he knows he's done for.

[Part 2]

Before Steve can respond, Minnie comes running up to the gate screeching excitedly.

“Daddy! Daddy! This is Mr. Steve!”

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes soften so quickly at the presence of his daughter that it makes Steve’s teeth ache.

“I know, sweetie,” Eddie says, turning those same soft eyes on Steve now. “I’ve known Mr. Steve a very long time.”

Minnie’s head tilts like a puppy and Steve has the sudden urge to squeeze her until she pops. “What? But Mr. Steve is new here. And you’re too old for him to be your teacher.”

Steve slaps a hand over his mouth to cut off the cackle that nearly escapes. Yep, that’s Eddie’s kid alright.

Eddie, meanwhile, has gone ruby in the face, sputtering at his daughter’s lack of a social filter.

Steve takes pity on him, though he’s still snickering a little as he swings Minnie up into his arms. She giggles delightedly and boops Steve on the nose.

“I wasn’t your daddy’s teacher, Minnie-moo. I was his classmate. Kind of like how you have classmates here,” he explains.

Minnie’s eyes go wide at that. “Were you best friends like me and Grace?!”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to blush. He looks at Eddie for help, finding his own confusion about how to answer her reflected back at him.

“Uh, not exactly,” Steve starts. “But maybe… we could be?”

The last part is said directly to Eddie, who looks a little shocked at the question.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Eddie nods, curls bouncing. “Best friends who… maybe get dinner together? Friday?”

Steve can feel his blush deepen. He hasn’t seen heads or tails of Eddie in 8 years and the man is just… asking him out on a date? While Steve’s holding his child? How does Eddie even know Steve might be into that?

Then, Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s work polo, and Steve puts it together. Eddie’s eying the rainbow pin there. Steve’s suddenly grateful for his boss that lets him wear it. The kids just think it’s pretty, but it’s really coming in handy right now.

“Yeah, Friday,” Steve agrees.

“Seven?”

“Seven is perfect.”

Suddenly, Minnie makes an indignant noise, a pout on her lips. “But I’ll be with Grampa on Friday.”

‘Grampa’ must be the older gentleman that normally picks Minnie up, Steve supposes.

“That’s the idea, kiddo. Time to go,” Eddie says, shooting a subtle wink Steve’s way.

Steve gets her passed off to the front office girl, still standing near the gate as Eddie and Minnie take their leave. Eddie stops by the gate once more, Minnie’s head resting on his shoulder while she fiddles with a band pin on his jacket, still looking put out.

“Seven on Friday.”

“Seven on Friday,” Steve confirms. Then, much lower: “You can tell me how you became a daddy.”

Eddie’s smile turns a little wicked, a flash of high-school Eddie rushing to the front of Steve’s mind.

“Well, Mr. Steve, if we’re 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 friends, I can show you as well.”

Steve inhales sharply, listening to Eddie’s responding cackle as he starts walking away.

Friday it is.

[Part 3]

Steve's not sure he's ever been so nervous for a date before. Which is ridiculous because he knows Eddie. He's known Eddie since he was 15. Surely that has to count for something? But no, the moment he sees Eddie at the table, everything Steve knows leaves his brain in a rush.

Dinner is nice. Great food, better company, but the biggest question is still harping on him.

"Go ahead," Eddie prompts after a time, "Ask."

Steve blushes, knowing he's been clocked. "Sure, yeah. Um... so... Minnie."

Eddie snorts, clearing his throat with a drink of his wine, like he's lubricating his throat for the answer.

Okay, bad thought.

DOWN BOY.

"Minnie is mine, in case you're wondering."

Steve blinks, taken aback.

"Yeah, clearly. Same—" he gestures to Eddie, "everything."

Eddie grins, nodding. "Yeah, clearly. Her other dad is..." Eddie pauses, visibly recalibrating several explanations. "His IUD failed," he settles on. "We weren't dating, just casual, but he got pregnant anyway. And I'm the idiot who didn't wrap it before I tapped it."

Steve waits on baited breath, knowing there's more.

"He wanted to... terminate," Eddie continues. "Even made a couple of appointments, but never went through with them. He never wanted kids and I respected that! It's not my body, ya know? But I think part of me always hoped. And then he made me a deal: he would go through with the pregnancy in exchange for relinquishing all parental rights. No child support, no contact, total single parent life."

Eddie shrugs, like that's just the way the cookie crumbles and not like it was a drastic life decision.

"And I got Minnie out of it," he says, pride clear in his voice. Steve melts, seeing the obvious love in Eddie's voice. "And I wouldn't change a thing about it."

Steve nods, not getting it personally, but empathetic nonetheless. "She's a fantastic person. You've done an amazing job raising her," he says, reaching across to take Eddie's hand. It feels over-familiar, but Eddie doesn't pull away, just turns his hand to interlace their fingers together.

"And you've taught her so much since you started. Every day she comes home and it's 'Mr. Steve' this and

'Mr. Steve' that. I swear, I don't know how I didn't put it together sooner." Steve chuckles despite the way his face heats at the praise. He takes another drink, just to steel himself before he says, "Well, now you've told me how you became a daddy... Still up to show me?"

[Part 4]

They barely make it back to Steve's fully clothed. Eddie had offered up his place, but Steve didn't want the first time he's in Eddie and Minnie's house to be marked by sex they're apparently both eager to engage in.

Plus he really hopes this isn't the only time this will happen, or be the only date they go on, so he can wait to see the more domestic parts of Eddie's life until they have the "what are we?" talk.

Steve nearly leaves his cardigan in the Uber after it was yanked off by Eddie who apparently has no qualms about exhibitionism (Steve leaves a hefty tip in apology), but they managed to stumble into his apartment still mostly in-tact.

Eddie backs him against the front door the moment they're inside, his lips planted against Steve's throat.

"Tell me what you want, sweet boy," Eddie murmurs, seemingly careful not to leave any damning marks on him. Steve would let him if he knew it wouldn't subject him to a world of shit at work on Monday. His coworkers are nosey, and the kids are likely to ask how he got a bruise on his neck without realizing what it is.

"I already told you what I wanted," Steve groans, his hands fisted in Eddie's shirt, contemplating the merits of ripping it off entirely.

Eddie chuckles, a dark thing, and pulls back to look at Steve with dangerous clarity. His thigh is wedged between Steve's, right up against his rapidly growing erection, and Steve's practically vibrating with need.

"Remind me again what that was, sweetheart," Eddie prompts, grinding his hips forward and his thigh up, knocking a shaky moan from Steve's panting lips.

"Ah! Want- want you to show me—" he chokes out, rutting down against Eddie's leg, cursing the layers between them.

"Gonna have to be more specific," Eddie teases, even though he's already working on the buttons of Steve's shirt.

Steve's brain is already fuzzy, rutting mindlessly against Eddie's thigh while Eddie works his shirt open enough to attach his lips to his collarbone. There he finally sucks a mark in the safe zone, the first of many, Steve hopes.

“I w-want you to show me how you became a daddy,” Steve stutters out, fully yanking on Eddie’s shirt at this point. He needs him naked and inside him yesterday.

“Good boy.”

It’s a flurry of rushed movements after that. Clothes go flying, Steve trips on his way to the bedroom like he doesn’t know where he’s going, and Eddie’s laugh lights him up inside.

Eddie pins him to the bed, staring down with stars in his eyes.

“You want me to be your daddy, baby?” he asks, running his hands up Steve’s sides in a way that’s too ticklish for the words he’s saying. “Fuck you raw and keep you full ‘til it takes?”

Steve whimpers, reaching for Eddie’s arms to tug him down.

“Yes, daddy. Please,” Steve pants. Eddie’s cock brushes against his own every time Steve’s hips jump, needing to feel him. “Want it. Want your baby. Give your daughter a sibling.”

Eddie groans and captures his mouth in a filthy kiss before reaching for the lube.

Steve’s mind — and mouth — run through all kinds of scenarios while Eddie opens him up. If only he could get pregnant. Steve’s always wanted kids, a big family, a partner to love and kids to spoil. Maybe 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 could do that for him. It’s way too soon, but —

“Fuck, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦,” Eddie moans, sucking another mark into the crease where’s Steves hip meets his thigh, three-fingers deep already. “You gotta shut up before I tie you down and keep you forever.”

“Want it, want it,” Steve repeats, past the point of caring that he’s a pathetic begging mess. “Please, daddy. Give it to me!”

And he does. Eddie’s careful when he finally presses in, but Steve’s having none of it. He wants this fast and dirty. They can make love later. He needs Eddie to breed him over and over until nature and the universe rewrites itself.

Eddie’s hammering at his insides, one hand jerking Steve off, the other holding himself up as he sucks another mark right over Steve’s heart. 

"𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺!" is all the warning Steve gets out before he’s cumming hard, back bowing and blood boiling.

“Steve, baby, 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬!" Eddie grunts, finding his own end deep inside Steve.

It won’t take, but Steve can pretend it does. He can hold Eddie close like they’ve been doing this all their life and will keep doing it forever.

“God, I hope so, baby,” Eddie breathes against his neck.

Oops, apparently Steve was thinking out loud again.

“Me too, daddy,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie snorts and kisses the side of his sweaty throat. He leaves his face buried there while they attempt to come back down, just breathing together.

After a moment, Eddie mumbles, almost too quietly for Steve’s ears to pick up: “How many dates do I have to take you on until we can tell Minnie?”

Steve’s heart stops and restarts. Eddie wants to do that? Roleplaying was one thing, but he actually wants his daughter to know they’re… what? Dating? Officially together? Trying to get pregnant even though that’s not going to work?

Okay, maybe not the last part. She’s only 4. 

“Um,” Steve hesitates, swallowing around a dry lump. “It’s your call, Eddie. You already know I love her.”

Eddie nods against his shoulder and tucks in tighter against him.

They don’t have to figure it out yet. They have time.

[Part 5]

Steve’s pretty sure he has a perpetual blush every time he sees Minnie now. Never mind that his coworkers seem to know exactly how close he is with her dad just by looking at him. It’s like he has “Daddy’s Boy” written across his forehead now.

The Friday before Father’s day, Steve and his co-teachers are helping the children make hand-print awards that say things like “# 1 dad” or “# 1 papa”.

“Mr. Steve,” Minnie says from across the little table that he and several of her classmates are sitting around.

It takes all of his self control not to keep her plastered to his side at all times. Eddie desperately wants to tell her about them, but Steve’s worried about confusing her.

He’s also worried that Eddie will change his mind, but he’s terrified to say that out loud, like it’ll manifest immediately if he gives it breath. The fact Eddie is so adamant means the world to him, but his own history with flighty parents means he doesn’t want to risk being that in Minnie’s life. She means as much to him as Eddie does, possibly more because she’s such an angel and he would be lucky to be there for her, however Eddie wants him to be.

So when she says his name in her little voice, his heart flutters and his focus is 100% on her -- a dangerous task when he has Daniel next to him with paint all over his hands.

“Yes, Minnie-moo?” Steve asks, the nickname still making her giggle.

“How do you spell rockstar?” she asks. She has her pencil poised and ready to let him list off the letters. Steve does, doing his best to not let Daniel run amok with gold fingers while helping Minnie create a # 1 Rockstar award for her dad.

“Thank you!” Minnie says excitedly before grabbing her art and running over to Robin. Steve just knows Eddie’s going to cry when he sees it. Hell, Steve can feel the burning of tears behind his own eyes as he thinks about the two of them. They’re a perfect family, and the fact that Eddie wants him to be part of that, even so soon, is something Steve still can’t wrap his head around.

Instead, he tries to refocus on helping the other kids who are making gifts for their parents, and probably doing a terrible job at pretending he’s not always half-watching Minnie.

At the end of the day, while Steve’s chasing the kids around during recess, a gorgeous swath of dark curls catches his eye. He spins toward the gate, spotting Eddie among the other eager parents waiting for their children.

“Happy Father’s day,” Steve says when he approaches the gate, once again keeping his attention mostly on the children playing.

“Thank you again, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sending him a wink.

Again, meaning after Steve texted him first thing that morning. Steve feels his entire face heat up because what he actually told him that morning was “happy father’s day daddy.”

“Minnie has a gift for you,” he deflects.

“I’ll grab it!” Robin pipes up, nearly scaring the shit out of Steve in the process.

“Oh! Uh… thank you, Ms. Robin,” Steve stammers, before dropping low to scoop a giggly Minnie into his arms. “You ready to give your daddy a happy father’s day?”

“We made cards!” she tells him, proud as anything.

“Yeah?” Eddie chuckles. “Is it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,” she states, suddenly very serious. Steve and Eddie both glance at each other, nervous smiles on their faces.

As Robin reappears from the classroom, arms held behind her back, Minnie wiggles in Steve’s arms. “Ms. Robin, I can give them to them, right?”

“Of course you can, Minnie,” Robin replies with a megawatt smile.

“Mr. Steve, can you put me down please?”

Steve blinks a few times, thoroughly confused. “Oh! Sure, of course, Miss Minnie.”

He sets her on the ground, looking over to find the overly fond look on Eddie’s face at the entire interaction.

“Thank you,” Minnie chimes, smoothing her My Little Pony dress out immediately.

“You can walk her out, dingus,” Robin mutters as Minnie walks toward the door to the office.

“But--” he starts, cut off by his boss who opens the door and waves him inside. Steve hesitates only for a moment before chasing after Minnie, scooping her back into his arms before carrying her out to the parking lot. Eddie has moved toward the front door, already waiting for them both with open arms. Steve just steps into them, melting immediately into a group hug with two of his favorite people.

“I missed you both so much,” Eddie coos, planting a smacking kiss to Minnie’s cheek while surreptitiously squeezing Steve’s hip. 

Minnie kisses him back before turning dangerously in Steve’s grasp to call out: “Ms. Robin! My awards!”

“Of course, Minnie, darling,” Robin says with over-inflated grandeur, bowing and then holding several pieces of paper between the bars. Steve shuffles them close enough for Minnie to grab, confused as to why there’s more than one.

“Here,” Minnie says, immediately holding them out for Eddie to take without explanation. Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he accepts them, turning them over to see.

The first is the one Steve helped her with, her hand the centerpiece of an award with # 1 Rockstar written on a would-be plaque.

“Oh, Minnie,” Eddie whispers, tears gathering in his eyes. Steve wants to gather him back up in his arms, but refrains in public.

“There’s more,” Minnie states proudly, and Steve watches Eddie shuffle the top award to the back.

The second says “# 1 grampa” spelled exactly as she pronounces it. Steve’s eyes burn and he’s not able to wipe away the tear that escapes since he has his arms full of the thoughtful 4-year-old.

“It’s for Grampa Wayne,” she explains, like Eddie might be confused.

Eddie sniffles, pressing the award stack to his chest as he says, “He’s gonna love it, sweet pea.”

Minnie looks proud, which makes Steve feel proud too, even if he knows Robin helped her with it. He’s so proud of Minnie for being the amazing little girl she is, but also so proud of Eddie for being the incredible father that she needs.

Eddie moves in to wrap them both back in a hug when Minnie cries: “Wait there’s one more!”

“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, his voice a little strained despite the breathtaking smile on his face.

He shuffles the pages once more, freezing when the last one is revealed. 

Steve only helped with the first one; he had no idea she made three of them.

He stands there with Minnie in his arms, watching Eddie’s eyebrows draw together and then up, the tears in his eyes pooling even more. It’s all incredibly worrying because Steve’s never seen Eddie cry this much, and now he’s terrified about what the final one says.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks after a moment, glancing at Robin for a second, who looks on the verge of tears herself despite the smile on her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, and then turns the pages over for Steve to see.

There, on the would-be plaque under Minnie’s tiny hand print, says “#1 Steve.”

Steve gasps, eyes raking over the scribbly handwriting again and again.

“Oh no,” Minnie mumbles, her smile falling and big brown eyes tearing up, “It makes you sad.”

Steve chuckles around a sob and holds Minnie tighter, burying his face in her familiar curly hair. “No, baby girl. I’m so happy.”

“Happy tears?” she asks when he pulls back.

“Very happy tears. My number one Minnie,” he replies. Her face lights up once more as she throws her arms around Steve’s neck and attempts to squeeze the life out of him.

Steve looks to Eddie, making sure everything about this is okay. The man looks elated, tears flowing freely. Steve almost forgets they’re standing in the parking lot of his job.

“Now?” Eddie mouths. Steve, blinking back more tears, nods definitively. “Hey Minnie-moo,” Eddie says, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair to get her attention. “What do you think of Mr. Steve being around outside of school? Like, as daddy’s boyfriend?”

[icouldntfinditsoiwroteit]

The jedi archives rule II

Due to unfortunate events the rules have been updated, to go alongside this message, Master Fisto's hunt and subsequent funeral will be streamed in channel 4 of the temple at around the 17th hour of todays rotation.

(I warned you all but you didn't listen to me, now Master Fisto has to pay for his actions, may his foolishness serve as a reminder that Madam Nu is serious with her warnings)

The first part of the rules shall be uploaded here.

Please read them so you do not break any rules in a way that better be an accident.

Food is vehemently forbiden from coming near the archives, (we do NOT need another infestation)

Clones please ask for an archive credential at the main desk

Datapads can no longer leave the archives for longer than two days

You cannot take out more than five datapas per time

Clones are not allowed to take out datapads in the place of ANY jedi

No not padawans either

Cleaning crew is now to be acompanied by any helper

I do NOT want any patient hiding amongs them

Like for force sake really?? Do you have any idea how hard it is to deal with an angry healer???

Knight Skywalker please keep your...meetings with Senator Amidala out of the archives

Oh please who cares if I call him out? Everyone knows, we're just being nice

Knight Skywalker, Master Vos's rule now applies to you too

Padawan Kestis and any younglings or padawans of his size, please refrain from napping inside the datapad carts

I doubt any of you will find sleeping in the old archives comfortable

And we do no need an entire legion of clones almost tearing the temple apart to find you

Disapointingly this now also aplies to anyone small enough to get inside a datapad cart

THERE ARE KRIFFING SLEEPING CHAMBERS ALREADY!!

IF YOU MANIACS WON'T EVEN USE THEM THEN WHAT IT THE POINT??!

Slimy users of the archives, I have nothing against any of you, but please, for anything that is mighty, use the designated areas for you

Practive equipment is now banned from the archives

Blasters are now banned from the archive

Lightsabes are now banned from the archives

Knight Offee, Padawan Tano, Master Fisto, Master Yoda-

We shall now be conducting searches in specified padawans, knights and masters (You know who you are)

What is wrong with all of you???

Off duty Temple Guards, please I must insist and remind you that you must wear bells while in the archives

If I find the fucker who scared me last night it will be on kriffing sight!

Master Yoda you are formally banned until you apologize from bringing LIVE animals for lunch

It is not permited to make the datapads float with the force

Apologies Master Sinube I understand it's comfortable but after many have damaged datapas doing this we cannot allow it anymore

We must ask any species who uses echolocation to please ask for help to guide you in the archives

We can't afford 50% of the datapads shattering again, please

It has also been brought to our attention that Knight Skywalker's datapad suffered as much if not more than Master Kenobi's did but that he managed to fix them befor ereturning them

I'm not even mad, I'm actually impressed, Knight Skywalker, if you could drop by from time to time to aid in the fixing of the datapads we would apreciate it

....Fine and in return we will allow Master Kenobi to take out datapads again

Youngling Grogu is not allowed back in the archive until he returns the things he took

Yes I know they are shiny and he liked them, but we still need all of that, may I remind you all he tried to steal the archives core??? Just cause i was shiny and ball shaped!!!

There are now snack jars in the front desk for whenever Grisser comes, please give one to him if you see him

Master Windu please remind your troopers that you are the example of what NOT to do, when taking a datapad from the archives

Again permanently banned members must NOT enter the archives

Do you really want Madam Nu to take her riffle out? 

Really?

Formal protocol for when Madam Nu takes her rifle out shall be sent to your personal comms in an hour

On a last note, if you fill this rules are targeted and personal, it's because they are :)

Sincerily Master Astar 

Take that Skywalker

[devaigh]

hiii!! happy first thedasweekend! 🥰 y'know, i do love some cullen/inky! what was their first kiss like? 👀

Thank you! 🥰 🥰 You are in luck! I actually have something that fits! I just finished this chapter of my current wip over the weekend (it's not even on Ao3 yet so you get to see it first! -I just finished final edits) This is a cannon compliant chapter from Cullen's POV showing their first kiss on the battlements! *You might see some familiar dialogue. (I used some of the actual game dialogue for the scene) But I really love how this turned out! If you enjoy this, feel free to check out the rest! <3 <3 <3

The Space Between: Chapter 6: Something Worth Fighting For

Cullen found himself smiling at his paperwork, which was likely the first time in his entire military career that requisition forms had inspired anything resembling happiness. But he couldn't help it—every time he glanced up from his desk, he remembered Cordelia's words from three nights ago in the garden.

"We should spend more time together."

The memory sent warmth spreading through his chest, the same surge of hope and disbelief he'd felt in that moment. They'd been playing chess beneath the stars, the board set on a small table between two chairs she'd somehow convinced him to carry down from his office. The game had been forgotten halfway through when their conversation had drifted from strategy to more personal matters—her childhood in the Circle, his memories of growing up in South Reach, the weight of responsibility they both carried now.

"I'd like that," he'd replied, and meant it more than he'd meant anything in years.

Those three days since had felt like living in some sort of waking dream. Every morning, he'd wake expecting the spell to be broken, for things to return to their careful professional distance. Instead, each day brought new moments that made his heart race with possibility.

She'd appeared in his office one morning a a couple of weeks ago before departing for the Emerald Graves, ostensibly to review security protocols for the mission. But instead of the usual brisk efficiency of their briefings, she'd lingered, asking about his sleep, whether the headaches were still troubling him, if he'd remembered to eat breakfast. Her concern had been so genuine, so personal, that he'd found himself sharing details about his routine he'd never told anyone—how he sometimes woke before dawn and couldn't get back to sleep, how he'd taken to keeping bread and cheese in his desk drawer for the mornings when duty called before he could make it to the great hall.

And when she'd returned one evening a week later—earlier than expected, dust still coating her leathers and fatigue evident in the set of her shoulders—his office had been her first stop. Not the war room for debriefing, not her own quarters to rest, but here, climbing the stairs to his tower with what she claimed were urgent security updates about Venatori movements near the camps.

The "briefing" had lasted two hours. They'd covered the Venatori threat in the first ten minutes. Next thing he knew, she had convinced him to follow her to the garden-furniture in tow.

The thought made him smile again, and he forced his attention back to the supply manifest in front of him. But even now, alone in his office with nothing but paperwork and the late afternoon sun streaming through his windows, he could still feel the lingering effects of her proximity. The way she'd leaned over the map on his desk, close enough that he could smell the faint lavender scent of whatever soap she used. How she'd touched his arm when making a point about patrol routes, her fingers warm even through the fabric of his shirt. The soft laugh she'd given when he'd made some dry observation about requisition delays, a sound that had sent heat pooling low in his stomach.

Since then, it seemed she found excuses to seek him out with increasing frequency. This morning she'd intercepted him on his way to the training grounds, claiming she needed his opinion on a letter from some Orlesian nobles. They'd ended up walking the entire perimeter of the fortress while discussing everything except the letter, which remained unopened in her hand the entire time.

The flirtation had become impossible to ignore, though part of him still insisted he was reading too much into her lingering glances and the way she seemed to find reasons to touch his arm or shoulder during their conversations. Surely the Inquisitor had more important things to think about than a scarred ex-templar with too much emotional baggage and an unfortunate tendency to stumble over his words whenever she smiled at him.

But then she would laugh at something he said, or lean closer than strictly necessary to examine a map, or look at him with those striking green eyes that seemed to see straight through all his carefully maintained walls, and he'd find himself wondering if perhaps—

The rational part of his mind, the part trained by years of military discipline, kept insisting this was madness. She was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, the woman chosen to save the world from the Breach and whatever lay beyond it. He was her military commander, nothing more. The disparity in their stations, in their importance to the cause, should have been enough to quell these feelings before they could take root.

And yet...

"We should spend more time together."

Those words, spoken so softly in the garden with starlight caught in her dark hair, had sounded like a promise. Or perhaps like hope.

"You're doing it again."

Cullen looked up to find Leliana standing in his doorway, wearing that knowing expression that had become painfully familiar over the past few weeks.

"Doing what?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Smiling like a fool while staring at nothing." She moved into the office, closing the door behind her with the deliberate precision of someone preparing for a serious conversation. "It's remarkably similar to how Alistair used to look whenever anyone mentioned the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight."

Heat rose in Cullen's cheeks, and he straightened in his chair, attempting to regain some semblance of professional composure. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't." Leliana settled herself in the chair across from his desk with the casual authority of someone who'd appointed herself his unofficial relationship advisor. "You know, I watched him struggle with the very same doubts you're carrying now. 'She's the Hero of Ferelden,' he used to say. 'She's going to save the world. What business does a bastard ex-templar have thinking he could be worthy of someone like that?'"

The parallel hit closer to home than Cullen cared to admit. He set down his quill with more force than necessary, the small sound sharp in the quiet office.

"It's not the same," he said.

"Isn't it?" Leliana's voice was gentle but persistent. "A warrior struggling with feelings for an extraordinary woman during a crisis that threatens everything? A man convinced he's not worthy of someone so far above his station? Tell me, Cullen, does the Inquisitor know how you feel about her?"

"There's nothing to know," Cullen said, returning his attention to his paperwork with perhaps more focus than reports on arrow supplies strictly required. But the words felt hollow even as he spoke them, a reflexive denial that fooled no one, least of all himself.

"Cullen." Leliana's voice carried the same patient authority she'd once used to coax confessions from reluctant informants. "You're in love with her."

The words hung in the air between them, simple and undeniable. Cullen's pen stilled on the parchment, and for a moment he considered maintaining the pretense that had served him well enough so far. But this was Leliana—former bard, current spymaster, survivor of the Blight who'd watched love bloom in the most impossible circumstances. If anyone would understand, it would be her.

"Yes," he said quietly, the admission feeling both terrifying and liberating. "I am."

"And you haven't told her because...?"

"Because she's the Inquisitor." The words came out more sharply than he'd intended, years of military training warring with emotions he'd tried so hard to suppress. "Because we're at war. Because she has the fate of Thedas resting on her shoulders and doesn't need the additional complication of her military commander harboring inappropriate feelings."

"Inappropriate?" Leliana raised an eyebrow, and there was something almost amused in her expression. "Cullen, she seeks you out constantly. She lights up whenever you enter a room. Yesterday I caught her asking Josephine about your favorite foods so she could ensure they're served at dinner. The day before that, she spent twenty minutes questioning Varric about your reading preferences."

Cullen's head snapped up, his carefully maintained composure cracking. "She what?"

"You really are remarkably dense for someone who's supposed to be tactically minded." Leliana's smile was fond but exasperated, the expression of someone watching a friend stumble over something perfectly obvious. "The woman is clearly interested. She's been interested for weeks, possibly months. The only question is what you intend to do about it."

The revelation sent his thoughts reeling. All those moments he'd dismissed as wishful thinking, those lingering touches and warm smiles he'd convinced himself meant nothing—what if he'd been wrong? What if the careful distance he'd been maintaining was nothing more than self-imposed torture?

"You don't understand," he said, though his voice lacked conviction now. "Even if she... even if there were feelings involved, the complications alone—"

"Do you know what changed Alistair's mind?" Leliana interrupted gently. "Nearly losing her. He spent months convincing himself he wasn't worthy, that duty came first, that she deserved someone better. And then she almost died in the Deep Roads, and he realized that all his noble self-sacrifice meant nothing if he lost her without ever telling her how he felt."

She leaned forward, her expression growing more serious. "They're married now, Cullen. He's King of Ferelden, she's his Queen. Their love didn't weaken them during the Blight—it made them stronger. It gave them something to fight for beyond duty and obligation."

Before Cullen could formulate a response—or more likely, another denial—the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Leliana rose smoothly from her chair, her timing impeccable as always.

"Think about what I've said," she murmured, moving toward the door. "Some things are worth the risk. Don't make Alistair's mistake of waiting until it's almost too late."

She passed Cordelia in the doorway with a polite nod, and Cullen caught the knowing look she shot him over the Inquisitor's shoulder before disappearing down the stairs.

Cordelia stood framed in the doorway, still wearing her travel leathers from some errand or meeting, and looking slightly uncertain in a way that was utterly unlike her usual confident demeanor. The late afternoon sun streaming through his windows caught the auburn highlights in her dark hair, and Cullen felt his breath catch as he took in the sight of her.

"Was there something you needed?" Cullen asked, rising from his desk with perhaps more haste than dignity.

"I thought we could talk... alone," she said, stepping fully into the office, and there was something in her voice—nervousness? hope?—that made his pulse quicken.

"A-Alone? I mean, of course." Maker's breath, could he sound any more ridiculous? Years of commanding soldiers, and he was reduced to stammering like a recruit in the presence of the woman he—

She moved toward the eastern door, the one that led to the walkway above the drawbridge, and he followed, his fingers unconsciously finding the fur trim of his cloak and twisting the soft material between his thumb and forefinger. The nervous habit had developed sometime during his recovery from lyrium withdrawal, a small outlet for the restless energy that still plagued him during moments of particular stress.

The walkway was bathed in golden light, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the stone. From this height, they could see for miles across the mountain passes, the vista normally a source of strategic satisfaction for Cullen. Today, however, his attention was entirely focused on the woman beside him, on the way the warm light brought out the gold flecks in her green eyes and softened the determined line of her jaw.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, but Cullen could feel the tension radiating from her, could sense that whatever had brought her here was important. His fingers worked at the fur trim of his cloak, the repetitive motion helping to steady his nerves even as his heart raced with possibility.

"It's a nice day," Cullen offered, then immediately felt foolish for such an inane observation. Here she was, clearly working up the courage to discuss something significant, and he was commenting on the weather like some nervous courtier.

"What?" Cordelia turned to look at him, and he realized she'd been lost in her own thoughts, probably gathering her courage for whatever she'd come to say.

"It's... there was something you wished to discuss." He forced himself to focus, to be present for whatever was troubling her, even as his mind raced with the implications of Leliana's words.

She was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the mountains in the distance, and when she spoke, her voice was softer than usual, vulnerable in a way that made his chest tight with protectiveness.

"Cullen... I care for you, and I—"

"What's wrong?" The uncertainty in her tone, so unlike her usual confidence, sent worry shooting through him like lightning. Without thinking, he turned to face her fully, his hand falling away from his cloak to hang at his side.

"You left the Templars... but do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more?"

The question hit him like a physical blow, stealing the breath from his lungs and making his heart stutter in his chest. All this time, she'd been wondering whether his past would prevent him from seeing her as more than just another mage to be watched and contained. The thought that she might doubt his feelings—or worse, fear them—made his chest tight with something that might have been panic.

Of course she would worry about this. How could she not, knowing his history? The years he'd spent as a Templar, the suspicion and fear he'd once harbored toward all mages, the way his training had conditioned him to see magic as something to be controlled rather than celebrated. She had no way of knowing how completely she'd shattered those prejudices simply by being herself—brilliant, compassionate, powerful in ways that had nothing to do with the magic that flowed through her veins.

 “I could... I mean... I do think of you... and what I might say in this sort of situation." The words tumbled out awkwardly, his usual composure deserting him entirely under the weight of her vulnerability and his own overwhelming need to reassure her.

"What's stopping you?" she asked, and there was something almost pleading in her voice that made him want to close the distance between them and promise her that nothing would ever hurt her again, that he would spend the rest of his life proving how worthy of love she was.

"You're the Inquisitor. We're at war, and you... I didn't think it was possible."

Somehow, during their conversation, he'd moved closer without realizing it, drawn by some invisible force that seemed to pull him into her orbit. She was backed against the stone edge of the battlement now, and he was leaning in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her green eyes, close enough to catch the faint scent of lavender that always seemed to cling to her hair. The air between them seemed charged, electric with possibility and the weight of words unspoken.

"And yet... I'm still here," she said softly, and there was something almost wondering in her voice, as if she couldn't quite believe it herself.

"So you are." His voice came out rougher than he'd intended, gravelly with the depth of emotion he'd been holding back for so long. "It seems too much to ask, and yet... I want to—"

He moved closer still, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, could see the way her pupils dilated slightly as he leaned in. Something that might have been a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—the same expression Varric had once teasingly called his "trademark"—as he watched her eyes flutter closed in anticipation.

"Commander!"

The voice from behind them was like a bucket of ice water, shattering the intimate moment with all the subtlety of a battering ram. Cordelia's eyes snapped open, wide with shock and what he could only describe as mortification. She immediately looked down at the stones beneath their feet, her cheeks flushing scarlet with embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position with her military commander.

White-hot fury blazed through Cullen's chest, burning away any trace of embarrassment and leaving only pure, incandescent rage at the timing of this interruption. This moment—this perfect, impossible moment when she'd finally opened her heart to him—had been stolen by some thoughtless fool who couldn't wait another five minutes to deliver whatever trivial message had brought them here.

"What?" he said without turning around, his voice carrying a dangerous edge that promised extremely unpleasant consequences for whoever had chosen this particular moment to interrupt. Every muscle in his body was tense with barely controlled anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Sister Leliana's report? You wanted it delivered... without delay?"

The explanation only stoked his fury higher. Some routine intelligence report, the kind of thing that crossed his desk a dozen times a day, and they'd chosen now—now, when Cordelia had been brave enough to bare her heart to him—to deliver it with such supposed urgency.

He whirled around, his glare promising retribution that would make the recruit's next few weeks thoroughly miserable. The soldier—one of the newer additions to their ranks, barely old enough to shave properly—took a visible step back when he saw his commander's expression, his face going pale with sudden understanding of just how badly he'd miscalculated.

Behind Cullen, Cordelia was studying the stones at her feet with intense focus, her entire posture radiating embarrassment and uncertainty. The sight of her retreat, of the walls going back up around her heart, only fed the fire of his anger.

"...or to your office!" the soldier amended hastily, backing toward the door with unseemly haste. "Right!"

Cullen held his glare until the door closed behind the retreating figure, the sound echoing across the battlements like a crack of thunder. Only then did he turn back to Cordelia, who was still staring at the ground as if the ancient stones held the secrets of the universe.

She was slipping away from him—he could see it in the set of her shoulders, in the way she'd wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold something precious inside. The moment of vulnerability had been shattered, and now duty and propriety were reasserting themselves, building walls between them that might never come down again.

"If you need to—" she began, and he could hear the retreat in her voice, the careful formality that meant she was about to give him an excuse to walk away, to pretend this had never happened.

No. Not this time. Not when they'd come so close, not when she'd been brave enough to reach for what they both wanted. He'd spent years letting moments slip away, telling himself it was for the best, that duty came first. But Leliana's words echoed in his mind— don't make Alistair's mistake of waiting until it's almost too late.

Before she could finish her sentence, before she could look up and see the carefully neutral expression he might have worn, before she could retreat behind the safe distance of their professional relationship, Cullen made his choice.

In one smooth motion, he lifted her chin with his hand, the gentle pressure forcing her to meet his eyes. For just an instant, he saw the surprise there, the uncertainty, the hope she was trying so hard to hide. And then he captured her lips with his, pouring everything he'd been too afraid to say into the kiss—his love, his desire, his absolute certainty that whatever complications might arise, she was worth all of them and more.

The kiss caught her off guard at first, her body going still with shock. But then she melted into him, her hands coming up to grip the front of his cloak as she kissed him back with a passion that matched his own. She tasted like mint and something uniquely her, and the soft sound she made when he deepened the kiss sent heat racing through his veins like liquid fire.

When he finally pulled away, his heart was racing and he was fairly certain he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The look on her face—wonder and joy and something that might have been relief—was worth any amount of embarrassment.

"I'm... sorry, that was... um... really nice," he managed, his usual eloquence completely deserting him in the face of her radiant smile.

"That... was what I wanted," she said, and her voice was soft with something that sounded like happiness, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm.

"Oh. Good."

And then they were kissing again, and Cullen thought that perhaps Leliana had been right after all.

Some things were definitely worth the risk.

If you liked this, (and want more) you can find the rest of the story (still a WIP) on Ao3 here!

Prompt Fill for @thedasweekend