#Do My Data Mining Assignment Help

[amparol12]

Mastering the Dig: Your Roadmap to the Top 10 Data Mining Courses

In the digital age, where data is a valuable currency, the field of data mining has emerged as a critical discipline for extracting meaningful insights from vast datasets. Whether you're a student looking to ace your data mining assignments or a professional seeking to enhance your skills, a solid education is paramount. In this blog, we'll guide you through the top 10 data mining courses, with a special emphasis on the exceptional resource – DatabaseHomeworkHelp.com – known for its expertise in providing help with data mining homework.

DatabaseHomeworkHelp.com: Your Expert Companion in Data Mining When it comes to mastering the intricacies of data mining, DatabaseHomeworkHelp.com takes the lead. This website specializes in offering comprehensive solutions for data mining assignments, ensuring that students grasp the concepts and techniques involved. With a team of experienced tutors, DatabaseHomeworkHelp.com is your go-to resource for personalized assistance and in-depth understanding of data mining principles.Why Choose DatabaseHomeworkHelp.com?

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Now, let's explore other noteworthy resources offering top-notch data mining courses to further enrich your learning experience.

"Data Mining Specialization" by University of Illinois (Coursera) This specialization covers the fundamentals of data mining, including techniques for pattern discovery, clustering, and predictive modeling. It is a comprehensive program suitable for beginners and intermediate learners.

"Practical Machine Learning for Computer Vision" by Stanford University (Coursera) Delve into the intersection of data mining and computer vision with this course. Stanford University's offering focuses on practical applications, making it an excellent choice for those interested in extracting insights from visual data.

"Data Science and Machine Learning Bootcamp with R and Python" by Udemy Led by industry experts, this Udemy bootcamp provides a broad overview of data science and machine learning, making it an ideal choice for individuals seeking a holistic understanding of these fields.

"Text Mining and Analytics" by University of Illinois (Coursera) Explore the world of text mining with this Coursera specialization. The course covers techniques for extracting valuable information from textual data, an essential skill in the data mining domain.

"Advanced Machine Learning Specialization" by National Research University Higher School of Economics (Coursera) This specialization delves into advanced machine learning concepts, providing a solid foundation for those interested in leveraging machine learning algorithms for data mining purposes.

"Data Mining and Analysis" by Columbia University (edX) Columbia University's edX course explores the principles of data mining and analysis, emphasizing real-world applications. It's suitable for learners seeking a practical approach to data mining.

"Introduction to Data Science" by Microsoft (edX) Offered by Microsoft on edX, this course introduces learners to the essentials of data science, including data mining techniques. It's a great starting point for beginners in the field.

"Mining Massive Datasets" by Stanford University (Coursera) For those looking to tackle large datasets, this Stanford University course covers the challenges and solutions associated with mining massive amounts of data, preparing learners for real-world scenarios.

"Data Mining and Machine Learning in Python" by Udemy This Udemy course focuses on data mining and machine learning using Python. With hands-on exercises, it's a practical resource for learners looking to apply data mining techniques using Python programming.

Conclusion: Embarking on a journey to master data mining requires access to high-quality resources and expert guidance. The top 10 data mining courses mentioned in this blog, with a special nod to DatabaseHomeworkHelp.com, cater to a variety of skill levels and interests. Whether you're a student seeking homework assistance or a professional looking to enhance your data mining skills, these courses provide a robust foundation for success in the dynamic field of data mining. Start your learning journey today and unlock the potential of data mining expertise.

[pascalislove]

BOSS

PARING: SEOK-WOO X READER

Summary: You made a mistake by correcting him in a meeting, now you must face the consequences.

Warning: (18+), coarse language, unprotected sex (wrap it before you touch it!), piv, desk sex, office sex.

Working for Seok-woo wasn't easy. He was demanding, punctual, meticulous to the point of seeming like a machine designed for success. Ever since I was assigned as his personal assistant, my days were marked by his schedule. But over time, I learned there was more to it than that. There was more behind his firm voice, more in his silences.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the elegant bearing of a man accustomed to being obeyed. His always dark, perfectly tailored suits contrasted with his serious, controlled expression. His black hair fell impeccably over his forehead, his lips were straight, and his dark eyes left no room for misinterpretation. He didn't tolerate mistakes, much less disrespect.

And yet, I had done it.

That day, during a meeting with the executives, I inadvertently interrupted him.

—With all due respect, Director Seok-woo, the data you mentioned is from the previous quarter,—I said, concentrating on the reports.

Silence.

His gaze fixed on me. Tense. Cold.

He nodded, barely, and continued with the presentation without correcting me or showing any emotion.

But I noticed it.

And I knew I wouldn't let it go.

That night, the office lights were dim. Everyone had already left. I was finishing organizing some documents when my cell phone vibrated. His name appeared on the screen.

—Come to my office,—he ordered simply. I grabbed the papers and, almost instinctively, the bento box I'd ordered in case he forgot dinner.

I walked to his office in silence, the echo of my footsteps echoing through the empty hallways.

Knock.

—Go ahead! —he said in a low voice.

I walked in and saw him. He was leaning against his desk, his back turned, talking on the phone. He was smiling.

A real smile.

—Of course, honey. Tell Grandma I'll pick you up tomorrow. I love you. —he said, and when he turned around, he saw me. The smile disappeared immediately.

—See you, princess —he added before hanging up the call.

—Here are the documents you requested—I murmured, approaching—. And I brought him something for dinner. I thought… he hadn't eaten.

He nodded without looking at me.

—Thank you.

I turned to leave, but I'd barely taken a step when his hand caught my wrist. Hard. It didn't hurt, but his grip was clear: he wasn't going to let me go.

He stood up, his imposing figure dwarfing everything around me. He walked slowly until my back hit his desk. His body was facing mine. Almost touching.

—Who gave you permission to correct me in front of my managers?

His voice was low. Deep. A whisper laden with tension.

—I… just wanted to help—I said, feeling the warmth of his closeness.

—Help? —His face was dangerously close to mine—. You think that was helpful? You contradicted me. You challenged me. Is that how you want me to see you? As someone who challenges me in front of everyone?

—It wasn't my intention… —I whispered.

He laughed, without humor.

—Always so obedient, so proper… until today. I wonder if you're forgetting your place.

His fingers slid from my wrist to my waist, slowly and deliberately. Then his hands rested on either side of my body, trapping me between the desk and his chest.

—Do you have any idea what you're doing when you do something like that?

My breathing became agitated.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I didn't dare.

—Look at me—ordered.

I looked up. His eyes were a blazing fire.

—When everyone leaves... you know what happens. You know who owns you.

He leaned toward me. His lips brushed mine. Just that. A minimal touch, laden with unspoken intentions. As if he wanted to prove he could take more… but wouldn't. Not yet.

—Don't do that again. Do you understand?

I nodded. Shaking, but firm.

And he smiled. Not out of tenderness. But out of control. Knowing that, even without kissing me, he already had me.

After saying that, Seok-woo picked you up firmly and sat you on the table. His lips sought yours with suppressed desire, but they barely touched your skin before straying to your neck. With determined hands, he opened your shirt and began placing wet kisses on your collarbone, causing you to throw your head back, letting out a sigh heavy with anticipation.

Your eyes searched for his, longing for a kiss that never came. You leaned forward to reach for him, but he stopped, looking down at you with a cocky smile.

—Today you don't deserve kisses —he whispered in a low, deep voice.

A frustrated moan escaped your lips, and he laughed mockingly, caressing your cheek with his knuckles.

—Mmm... don't pout, beautiful.—he added, enjoying your expression.

Undeterred, you began to slowly unbutton his shirt, brushing your fingertips over his muscles. Your lips moved down his neck, placing small kisses as he slid a hand under your skirt. With a determined movement, he pushed your panties to the side and began caressing your clit with gentle, almost tortuous movements.

Your body reacted instantly, clinging to his shoulders as you moaned into his neck, your breath caught in your throat. Seok-woo pulled away to watch your face, reveling in your expression of pleasure. Then, without warning, he slid a finger inside you and began to move with slow thrusts, continuing to stimulate your clit with his thumb.

You held onto him tightly as moans escaped your lips. Your body shuddered, growing closer to climax, and he felt it clearly as you began to clench around his fingers. Just as you were about to cum, he pulled out abruptly, drawing a frustrated moan from you.

—Not so fast —He said with a crooked smile, as he lifted your skirt higher and unbuttoned his pants.

He pulled out his already hard member, stroking himself slowly as he watched you. Then he aligned himself with your entrance and, without warning, entered you in one thrust. You clutched his shoulders with a loud moan, and he murmured in your ear:

—This will teach you not to question me again.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, overwhelmed with pleasure, and you whispered to him between gasps:

—I'm... I'm cumming...

—Oh really? —He replied playfully. At that moment, he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and frustrated again.

A moan escaped your throat. Before you could react, he pulled you off the table, firmly turned you around, and pressed your chest against the desk. He lifted your skirt again and thrust into you again, deeper and faster this time. Your moans filled the room, and he pulled you close and pressed your back against his torso, murmuring in your ear:

—Don't do that again, you hear me?

With your voice barely audible from pleasure, you asked him:

—Will you kiss me again...?

—Yeah —He replied without stopping.

—Okay, boss... it won't happen again...—you gasped, trembling with pleasure.

He smiled and kissed your cheek tenderly, continuing to move inside you. Then, he slid one of his hands down to your clit and began stroking it in gentle circles.

—It's... too much... —you murmured, your body on the verge of collapse.

—You can cum, baby. —he whispered.

And you did, climaxing with an intensity that made your whole body shake. Soon after, he followed with a few last deep thrusts, moaning your name.

Then he turned your face towards his and finally kissed you, deep, slow, as if sealing everything he had just made you feel.

And that night, the city witnessed a silent storm within four walls, where desire, tension, and power intertwined in every breath.

I use the seller's tags and other characters so they appear to you.🫦

MASTERLIST

[drdemonprince]

I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.

Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.

I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.

[blingblong55]

Worth it- 141 & Laswell

pic credits: @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot (left)and @ave661 (middle)

Based on a request: Wait, wait, first of all hope you're doing well and make sure to drink a glass of water if you haven't already. Cozy? Yeah? Okay, Can I request something (you can choose whether it's a HCor not,etc etc) on how TF141 would react to meeting a teen boy around 15-16, who's like a genius in engineering, mathematics, and physics? Like the boy could legitimately build a rocket if he had the time, help and materials. Maybe the meet him because he got in trouble with the government for unknowingly making a weapon? Maybe he made it for a class assignment and it was stolen without his knowledge? Whatever you think makes sense here. Leaving space for you to enter your own creative thoughts, just the general idea of it. The boy is based on a character of mine from a book I'm writing, his name his Michael, but ofc you can switch that up however you wish. Have fun with this one Ignore if it doesn't sound fun to ya <3 ---- M!Reader, genius!reader, platonic!relationship? ----

A/N: drank enough water, thanks for the reminder <3

Y/N, the name of the unknown internet user that had been chased by many governments and caught by the one and only Task Force 1-4-1.

You created something so dangerous that no one believed Laswell when she told her bosses the age you had when you started all this. You created the one thing most geniuses working for the government didn't know existed outside of the numbers and graphs they had done for it. At first, the FBI had named you un-sub A. Now, they can finally put a name to the unknown face.

How were you caught? Well, it wasn't easy, let's start there. When all this mess began, you were no older than fifteen. You are practically a ticking bomb to the government so when they heard that someone was asking the right questions to chemists around your city, they began to search for you. Laswell at the time was on a small break from work but the journals you had left in your parent's home when you ran away one rainy day.

In the journals, Laswell found all she needed to have a task force assigned to find you. She called it Operation Mikey, the name was just to fill in the void of the one thing she couldn't find, you.

Your parents weren't much help in giving your name, hence why Mikey became a temporary replacement. With them high off any drug and you on the run with the rest of your journals, Price was tasked with finding you and making sure you were secured in their care.

For three months, you ran away. Moving to different cities and continuing your research of the chemical weapon you fabricated in your bedroom, the same one Laswell had locked in a laboratory somewhere in the capital of the country.

In month four, you found an abandoned building in the middle of the desert. That's where your laboratory, if you can call it that, began.

For months after that, you collected data and it wasn't until nine months later that Soap found you trading chemicals with some scientist that you were caught.

Once you were brought in, they had realised so much about you. You were way younger than what their profile had thought of, much more intelligent than they'd think a person your age was and so skilled in engineering, mathematics, and physics.

"Why didn't we find his information sooner," Laswell questions her bosses. "Kid was never even registered by his parents." The man on the phone answers. "How the hell did he even get this kind of education then?" She asks again but you had that answer.

"My parents just bought me books and hired a weird guy from the street to teach me anything," you respond and Price chuckles. "Bullshit, kid. Now tell us, how the hell did you get all of these journals?" He points to the evidence bags. Your research of months now being read by other scientists.

"I am the creator of them, not let me go," you protest against Ghost's grip on you. "No chance," Price barks. "What's your real name?" Laswell asks you. "Y/N," you answer knowing it was either this or get thrown in some federal prison.

"And you created this weapon? do you have any idea how dangerous it is to create something like this? How many people it would take to create a mathematical concept and then make it into a physical form?"

"It's not that hard, lady," you answer with an attitude. Were people this dumb?

It took hours, lots of bribing and one request from Soap and Gaz to give you food for you to open up. What? you are a teenager who needs enough food for growth, of course, you'll talk once they give you food. Talking and having to dumb it down took hours though. After all, how can you explain to hardheaded soldiers about probability theory, and why it mattered so much to your project that it took ten trials and two journals worth of failed work to get?

Laswell was more than impressed, no seriously, she was like a proud mother listening to you explain every page and even give notes in only a way that a teenage boy would to idiotic adults like them. She thought it was so adorable how a boy your age would throw nerdy jokes into the explanations and how she watched you be the only one to laugh at them.

Ghost would often smile when you'd give a snarky comment to Price. Don't get him started on the chuckles he let out when you threw a few old man jokes at Price or made comments on Soap's weird hairstyle. The comments towards Gaz were funny but also adorable how you tried to find more reasons to get him annoyed.

Price thought of his son who was about your age when you'd get excited over your most recent discovery for the weapon you had created. It was nice to know that behind all that matter in your head, you were still a kid. It was even nicer when you'd make the jokes no one understood but secretly, Price's nerdy self understood some jokes.

Gaz saw his younger brother in you, which is why even when you made jokes at his expense, he would let them pass. The way you looked at him when having to explain things was nice in some way but it was way funnier when you called Soap the smart one of all four for being able to understand the way bombs work better than anyone and then have Ghost shake his head and tell you, "that man is just a muppet, don't believe what we tell you about his work."

Soap was fascinated by you for sure. Just like Price, he understood some of the jokes, even the cheesy puns you made about certain elements. He liked you, it was something fresh from the people he usually deals with.

The team, for the past few days, grew to adore the nerdy man you are. Yeah, you teased and even called them out on wrong facts but it was new. It's good to have someone so intelligent and be so honest with them this time. What was funny is that you know so much about many topics few understand but you don't know much about real life outside of the nerdy realm you live in. It's a nice feeling when passing by Laswells office you find a framed picture of the day Ghost and the other men of the team taught you about hunting and even how to play baseball, something you sucked at in the beginning but have gotten better over time.

It's like having four funny, serious, and cool dads and an amazing mum whilst being taken care of at the base the team called home.

A/N: I hope this was somewhat okay and good luck on your book!

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @froggy-anon @jinxxangel13 @enarien @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @avidreadee123 @ikohniik @konigssultwithghost @luvecarson @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @marshiely @sleepyycatt

[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Sylus)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Sylus. The reason is because he is a red flag. As red as his eyes. Spawn of the devil. Unless, he is actually not as evil as you label him to be. Does this change something in you? Yes? No? Maybe so?

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

Masterlist Self Aware AU

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|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5 [current]  | 6 |

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*Tap* *Tap* *Khtump*

Every step of the leather shoes echoes profoundly along the dimly lit hallway. Wooden door as tall as his figure was at the end. Long fingers clutched the handle to another room. Sharp eyes met with weathered grey.

"Madam CEO, you should really change the light in the hallways."

"Oh, dear. The sensor works fine just now. I wonder why it doesn't work whenever you stop by, Wingman."

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"Will you stop hanging your jacket loosely on your shoulder like a pair of wings?"

He pursed his lips, "Touché."

She snickered, "And what pleasure do I owe my head of security for this impromptu meeting?"

He walked closer to the massive table, separating them. A phone was placed gently while his face crocked slightly.

"I think this belongs to someone. It was delivered to me by mistake."

"Have you switched it on?"

"No. It was not mine."

"Switch it on for me so that I can get the information for its owner."

He sighed but did it anyway. She intercoms someone to come into the room.

The phone was on as another staff member stepped into the room holding a device similar to a big tablet. The staff seek through the phone for something then type it in the tablet.

*Ping*

"Errr...."

Both looking at the stuttering staff.

"Who does it belong to?" Madam CEO asked calmly.

The staff chance a peak at the towering man then glanced back at Madam CEO, restless.

She chuckled, "Thank you. Sorry for the awkwardness. You may go now."

The staff bowed and exited the room.

Mr. Wingman looked unpleasantly at her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"You already have a young swordman, a doctor and a mysterious painter. I guess you're aiming for your head of security now." He sighed.

She grinned, "I don't do pointless things."

"I know that well. Guess I'll just wait for the big surprise in the future." He smirked.

+-----------------------------+-------------------------+

"Did you get my first request?"

"With all due respect, Madam CEO, yes, I did help with modeling the character movement. Yes, my data is in the system. No, I don't approve of my figure to be a part of the game content much less the next main character in the game."

"It's already built. We can't scratch everything up and throw it away. The new updates will be released in a month." She playfully got her statement out.

"I should've known you're up to something the moment you assign me to assist character modeling. Yes, to your first question. I'm stalking her now."

She choked a bit, "Can you at least say it in a non-threatening way? She's not your prey, Mr. Wingman."

"Same difference. She's just a player that needs extra care."

Wrong.

How can he be so wrong countless times. Madam CEO didn't do pointless things including assigning him to her.

"She really sweeps the battle in a breeze yet not going further to the next level. How peculiar for a feisty kitten."

And that's not the last thing that will piqued his interest regarding her.

+----------------------------+-------------------------+

"Why didn't she play the Main Story anymore? It's impossible to not realize the continuation of the story is there."

He looked through her gameplay records.

His monitoring only supplied him with the bare minimum since everything else had him locked out. He didn't mind. The challenges keeping him on toe and he quite enjoyed it.

+------------------------------+---------------------+

The cafe.

The first time he could see the interior of the cafe ever since he monitored her. Before this it was darkness with icons gleaming around for him to interact. Barely.

Until now.

He saw her through the lens. Unmoving. Blank eyes. He was the same because seeing her changed the tune in his chest. He breathed out first.

"Did the system-"

"Indeed you are."

White noise surrounded him after hearing her voice. He staggered a bit out of shock. Lips smirking as his heart swells in amused. There's new feelings he had never felt before.

"I think I know now why Madam CEO did it."

+-----------------------------+---------------------+

Another day. Another staring.

She had been doing this for the past few days after he got his first view of the interior of the cafe. The first time he saw her. The first time she spoke. The first time he realized his other half.

"...I'm sorry..."

She spoke first. Again. Apologizing for misunderstanding him, his counterpart, and all the hate she sputtered on him.

He didn't like her tone.

There's nothing for her to apologize for. A prompt was sent to at least ease her tension.

She laughed.

It should be illegal how he couldn't hear it more with how short it was.

"We finally met, kitten. Take your time. I'll be here. Ready anytime."

Eyes fluttered close. Mouth smiling. Fond of the brief interaction.

+-------------------------------+---------------------+

He was quite pleased by the synchronization of their timing. She was in the game whenever he had the time to check on her.

"Nocturnal creatures sleep during the day..."

She has said one time. He had been smiling often at her witty commentaries. Enjoying each other's company even when they both had work or just her trying to prepare for a meal.

+--------------------+--------------------------------+

"She had been skipping a few cards. You have it. Why not watch it?"

It baffled him to no end but not for long.

She finally watched one. The catch was she didn't watch it with her eyes. She opted to hear it instead.

He laughed, "Sweetie, this is a 5* memory and your first time watching it. What a shame to just hear it. This is my favourite part in the memory."

Finger leisurely tapped the Auto icon off. He wanted to see how she would react. He wanted her close to him. See him. Talk to him.

"You're finally in front of me, kitten."

That he didn't realize his eagerness had him switch on his mic. He glanced and calmly switched it off.

Her face took a turn. She checked the same scene again. Nothing.

"Let's spill some secrets." He decided after mulling over briefly that maybe it's time.

He was met with darkness. Again.

He chuckled, "She'll make a good pitcher with that throw."

+--------------------------------+---------------------+

*Bling*

"Good. The twins had her new phone delivered. I'll explain it to her soon."

+-----------------------------+----------------------+

He had been waiting. She had been hiding.

"At least she didn't delete it."

His phone propped up while he was working. The screen was the same as the first time he opened the game, dark with scattered gleams from the icons.

*Ring* *Ring*

"...I'll be there."

He exited the game. Duty calls. The phone in his pocket. Always.

+---------------------+---------------------------+

He raked his white locks, relieved the issues settled. His chest thumping hard out of sudden. Hand smoothly went to log in the game.

"....take a day off or two for a nice trip to reset my tired mind."

She exited the game.

He smiled. Plans gearing in his head.

+-----------------------+-----------------------------+

"Boss, aren't we going to the airport?" One of the twins quipped.

The black car glided on the road.

"She canceled her ticket. I need to be prepared. I leave small matters to both of you."

"Yes, Boss."

+-----------------------------+---------------------+

He tapped on his phone to see the map better. Pinpointing her house as he notes the possible routes she'll take for her short vacation. She wouldn't have gone far, he concluded.

*Bling*

His game phone alerted him of her log in.

It was gone in a blink. But he got all that he wanted.

"My motorcycle is enough apparently." He tapped his temple, amused.

+-------------------------+-----------------------+

The leaf flew past his helmet as he throttled through the nature-rich road. He could imagine she was enjoying the scenery as much as he did.

The town gate welcomed him.

The rumbling of the motorcycle stops in front of a restaurant. The one where he was able to pinpoint her whereabouts from a few hints around her in those split seconds she was in the game. He walked to the very seat where she had her lunch a few hours ago.

"Sweetie, am I not allowed to meet you?" His smile was soft and longing.

He walked back to his motorcycle, driving around town aimlessly. Fate always plays a part in his life whether he wants it or not. This time, he lets it. At least he could enjoy what she saw even if he couldn't meet her.

An old thriving tree made him stop. He saw an old lady nearby. She looked up and smiled. Hand weakly and slowly calling him over.

He somehow obliged. As he kneeled in front of her, she tapped the helmet. He shook his head. She scoffed and tapped it again. He sighed but obliged, again.

His natural sharp features mostly intimidated anyone. This old lady won't have a heart attack, right?

"Never fear of yourself," she said once she saw him without the helmet, "She won't either."

He was taken aback.

"Between the foot and the mountain. May the thread of fate intertwine you once more."

His eyes stared at her. She pinched his cheek like a grandmother doting on her grandchildren.

He laughed then kissed her hand.

Off he went to meet her, in the middle of a grassland encompassed by the mountain behind and a road to the town. The night greeted him, surrounding him with familiar comfort.

He saw her motorcycle. He recognized it from the background of the picture where the twins captured it when they delivered her the phone.

After parking next to it, he took his time to relish in her presence. He glanced at the side of a few cabins built nearby.

He stared at one, unconsciously. Someone opened the door and stepped out. It was her. He turned back to the motorcycle. The beating in his chest was fast, alive and had been waiting for her.

"Excuse me."

He turned his head. His eyes catching her very being in real life. Not behind the screen. He liked it. Like it so much.

She did accuse him of wanting to steal her bike though.

Feisty. He adored her more.

"Judging me for a crime I did not commit already, sweetie."

He stood up, towering over her. Good. He can shield her better when things go south. WHEN is the keyword because he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He longed for her.

"...Sylus..."

Oh... How many oaths he'll take just to let her have the authority to call his name whenever she pleases.

He wants her to.

"I'm just a traveller searching for his long-missed kitten. Would my lady be so kind to lend a helping paw?"

He smirked playfully.

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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Taglist :

@poptrim @is-it-night-or-day

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A/N : I think... this how you do taglist... Please tell me if it's not like this (- ~ - ;)

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[in1-nutshell]

I need more tfo Megatron and Ophelia, so may I request some of them? Like Megatron seeing her again? My poor man didn't keep anyone all stayed with Optimus, so maybe he gets his daughter?

Here's some TFONE Ophelia and Meg's for ya!

Hope you enjoy!

3 Time's Megatron almost saw Ophelia and the 1 time Ophelia saw Megatron

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Mention of injuries, Slight Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFONE

The First time.

Recruitment.

With the exile of the High Guard and Megatron, there had been a bit of a stir around Iacon.

More specifically, after a sudden surge in Decepticon pamphlet propaganda.

Ophelia, deciding to help Optimus from his busy work schedule, went down to the mines.

A place where Elita had concluded where most of the pamphlets were coming from.

Maybe if she could collect a crate full it would help.

What she didn’t know was that Megatron himself was in the same mines under disguise to give out the pamphlets.

Ophelia was about to go to the area where the carts were, but her pedes instead took her to the old recharge stations.

Specifically, to D-16’s old slab.

Ophelia carefully runs her digit over one of the many Megatronus Prime stickers. She sighs mournfully before her optics catch a carefully hidden sticker in between the slits. Ophelia: “Huh? What do we have here?” After a bit of wiggling it around, she pulled out the perfectly clean and slightly dusted stickers of Megatronus and Micronus Prime. On the back it had small writing on it. Ophelia: “To Ophelia… for your first Iacon 500 race…Oh dad…” She quietly slipped in the stickers into her subspace and walked into another room. A few moments later Megatron quietly walked over to the same slab. He quickly noticed the lack of stickers in his secret compartment. Megatron had gone back here to get those stickers for the little shine of his deceased daughter. Megatron’s optics went wide at the lack of stickers. Megatron: “No, no, no, no, no…” Those were the last things he ever bought for Ophelia… and now they were gone… He quietly stood over the slab for a minute before joining back to his team.

The Second time.

Center riots

Turns out those pamphlets worked a bit too good.

Now there was a growing number of bots who were sympathizing with the Decepticons.

Something that worried everyone in the inner circle.

Optimus, being the protective guardian he was, told B-127 and Ophelia to stay in his new office to help sort out some files.

Both of them knew what the Prime was doing.

He wanted them as far from the street fights as possible, believing he could solve them himself.

B wanted to go and help, but Ophelia told him not to.

Orion—Optimus was already stressed enough, the last thing he needed was worrying about them being out.

Besides, helping him with the literal mountain of data pads was helping.

B-127’s helm emerging from one of the piles of datapads. B-127: “I think I found some slugs about the Quintessons.” Ophelia was sitting on top of a higher pile, reading the datapad intently. Ophelia: “Put it in the pile closest to the door.” B goes over to place them in the pile. B-127: “…Hey Lia, do you ever think on what D—I mean Megatron is doing right now?” Ophelia paused. Ophelia: “…Yeah… A lot actually… I just hope he is happy with his decisions.” She added a bit of bitterness and hurt at the end of her comment. B gave her a sympathetic smile. B-127: “But I bet he would be proud of you reading all these datapads.” Ophelia flinched a bit. It was still a bit sore to talk about her father. Ophelia: “I guess.” Meanwhile in the building’s center outside… Megatron is standing in the middle of it with his canon raised. Megatron: “JOIN ME! AND YOU WILL NEVER BE—” WHACK! Optimus jumped from a nearby balcony and punched him straight in the face.

The Third time

The train.

Seeing as Optimus was finally letting go a bit of his protectiveness, he had assigned B-127 and Ophelia to help escort with the help a couple other bots, some energon crates that were supposed to go to the other side of Iacon.

B and Ophelia were in the cart in front of the other bots and the crates.

It took a few minutes for the train to start moving for the Cons to strike.

Megatron himself leading the charge.

Their objective?

Get the energon crates.

Ophelia was the smallest to get in between the trains cable control and make the emergency stop.

Completely unaware her father was literally in the next cart.

Optimus is sitting at his desk looking tense. Elita is by his side. Elita: “I’m sure their fine. They are literally babysitting a bunch of boxes.” Optimus sighs a bit. Optimus: “I guess—” He stops when he gets a call from B-127. Optimus: “B?! What happened?!” Elita: “Don’t do that! Its probably nothing to big.” B-127: “There’s a couple of Cons in the back carts and I think there’s a small fire and Lia disappeared in the box and –ACK!” The sound of screeching and a panic yell had both bots on their pedes. Optimus: “B! B?! What’s going on!?” B-127: “Lia stopped the train!... But if you can hurry it a bit the cursing is getting louder.” Both Elita and Optimus are sprinting out of the room. With Megatron… Megatron is slowly getting up, having narrowly avoided getting crushed by a crate of energon. Megatron: “Why does this seem familiar…”

The one-time Ophelia saw her father.

All she wanted to do was get some datapads from a special jolt in the archives.

But now she was stuck in a heavily soundproof room with a single piece of glass separating her from the main computer.

It would take an hour or two before the system rebooted.

She was no doubt going to hear a lecture from Elita after she got out of here.

She was, however, not prepared for the sudden blast from the neighboring wall.

The debris nearly covered the entire glass wall.

But thanks to all the shaking, a rigid piece of the ceiling had fallen straight into her right servo.

Her screams of pain were not heard by the Decepticons pouring into the room.

The mini tried to take it out but after seeing a couple of sensitive wires she stopped.

One wrong yank and she could completely ruin her arm and any chances for a replacement servo.

Through the little window of debris free glass, she saw him.

Megatron pointing and seemingly yelling at some of the High Guard to get some things.

This had been the first time since Sentinel Prime’s death that she had seen her father.

Spark breaking seeing how angry and hard he was.

Ophelia tried to reach for the glass. Reach to him. Ophelia: “Megatron! Megatron!” She tried scooting towardshim but winced at her injured servo. Ophelia: “Dad! Dad help! Help me! DAD! DAD HELP ME! PLEASE! DAD!” The Cons were moving out of the room with bits of tech. The last one in the room being Megatron and herself. He had stopped and looked around. Almost as if looking for something… or someone. A bit of hope perhaps? That was the moment Ophelia saw him. The little crack of D-16 in his weary and sadden optics. Her own optics widened reading the one word that fell from him. Her name. And he was leaving. Flashes of that day surfaced too quickly. He was going to leave again. Leave without her. Ophelia: “Dad! DAD I’M HERE! DAD PLEASE I’M RIGHT HERE! DON’T LEAVE ME! DAD PLEASE DON’T! DAD!” But he couldn’t hear her. Megatron stood straighter and leaped out of the building, leaving a screaming and sobbing Ophelia pinned to the floor. The tears didn’t leave her optics as she counted down the minutes before help would arrive. Her mind replaying the scene over and over again. The tiny glimpse of D-16 appearing and disappearing in a nanoseconds Ophelia: “…Dad…dad why…”

[gayczennie]

I Did Everything I Was Supposed To Do (pt.1)

Haechan x male reader

Summary: Finals week turns out to be the final breaking point for y/n, but luckily Haechan is around right when you need him

Warnings: fluff, some angst: homophobia, allusions to panic disorder, stress

“Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot about the final on Monday. Fuck fuck fuck” Y/n cursed under his breath as he walked as fast as he could toward the entrance to his boyfriend’s place. Y/n had a million things to do the next few days already, and now he had a final to cram for on top of it all. “One thing at a time” he told himself knowing it’s what Hyuck would tell him if they were together right now. He didn’t really listen to this advice of course… especially coming from his own mouth instead of his cute adorable boyfriend.Oh God. I wish he was here so bad. But Haechan was still at the dance studio and would be for the next several hours. That’s why y/n was even entering Haechan’s apartment right now in the first place; Daegal needed to be taken out while Haechan was gone.

He HAD to have his stupid extra long dance rehearsal today of course. On the day where he already had to finish a ton of assignments and now cram for a test. Y/n quickly threw his backpack on the ground and sprinted over to daegal scooping her up before she even knew what was happening. While he waited for Daegal to do her business and walk around a little, y/n got back to planning his study schedule in his head. If I start by studying for the exam… I can trade every 45 minutes from cramming to working on the lab report for my other class. Fuck! That depends on whether the others ever filled in their data. Ok so I’ll save that for the end and work on the PowerPoint instead even though it’s due the longest from now. As long as I cut myself off at around 1:00 am, that should be enough sleep to take the exam at 9:30 the next day. It was going to be a rough night, but y/n decided he’d just have to work away and hope for the best.

Y/N went back inside and scooped his backpack up again to go work in Hyuck’s bedroom. He found the smell of his boyfriend clinging to the room to be extremely comforting and he hoped it would help him stay calm and focused on his work. He opened up his laptop to the lecture notes for the exam and began skimming them for any confusing topics that jumped out at him. What the? I only know like 2 of these concepts?? I’m screwed. Y/N new from plenty of old tests that it would only make things worse if he worried about it now, and feeling himself start to panic, he decided to work on the PowerPoint instead. He figured he should just finish all his other assignments so that he could then spend the entire rest of the night studying.

An hour into working on the PowerPoint y/n’s phone buzzed. He opened it to find a message from one of his lab partners that read “hey y/n I’m really sorry but I’m actually boarding a plane right now so I’m not gonna be able to finish my part of the lab. Maybe you can ask [partner name 2] for her data? I think she got mine down too.”

Y/n: “I’ll ask her.”

Partner 1: “KK.”

“Gotta go, sorry again!”

Partner 2: “Shit. I don’t have her values either y/n. I’m pretty sure that part of the lab was online though, so one of us can just do the lab at home right now.”

“Oh wait actually, I have to take both of my finals on Monday. It’s due Tuesday right? So I won’t have time to do her part. Y/n any chance you can do it?”

Y/n: “ I only have one midterm tomorrow… I guess I can do it if no one else can.”

Partner 2: “Ur the best bro! Tysm <3”

Y/n: …

.

.

Fuck me. How am I supposed to do [p/n 1]’s work for them on top of everything else? Y/n barely had enough time to do all his work as it was. And he had done all of HIS work on the lab already too. He thought he’d just quickly analyze his partner’s data and then turn it in… but no. This is totally unfair. I have more work than either of them, and I’m doing their work for them too on top of it all. Y/n’s eyes grew misty for a second threatening to turn into tears, but y/n shook his head hard and the urge to cry went away for now. He had to get back to— wait no. He needed to cook dinner. With no Hyuck home to cook dinner like usual, he was going to starve if he didn’t make something for himself. Standing up quickly y/n smacked his arm on Hyuck’s dresser skinning it in the process. Great. Now he was bleeding. And it had gotten on his white shirt too. Except it wasn’t his shirt, it was his boyfriend’s shirt that he had borrowed. Y/n was this close to screaming in frustration, but stripped off the shirt quickly and made his way to the bathroom to clean the spot before it stained. And of course, he needed to throw it in the washer if he really didn’t want it to stain, and that meant he should really just do all of Haechan’s laundry now. So heart now racing in a slight panic, y/n gathered the laundry and started the cycle as quickly as possible so that he could start on dinner.

Opting for the most time efficient option, y/n grabbed some pasta and left it to boil while he got back to work for a few minutes. There sure was a lot on his mind now between the pasta he was cooking, Daegal (who he suddenly remembered needed to be fed as well), the lab report, the final exam in a day, Haechan’s laundry that still needed to be dried, folded, and put away, and the millions of other things he needed to get done before going home to his family at the end of the week. And the trip home would be another ordeal that required a lot of planning and prep work. Y/n had a lot of problems at home due to his conservative family and their recent discovery that he was dating Haechan. But that’s silly. I shouldn’t worry about that right now. And it’s not like it’s anything new knowing they all disapprove of my “lifestyle choice”. That’s old news, and I need to focus on this. Y/n went back to his multitasking and eventually got Daegal fed, the laundry in the dryer, and got a good portion of the lab done.

At 10:30 y/n finally felt satisfied with the PowerPoint and had finished collecting most of the data his partner was supposed to do. So he went to wash all the dishes he had left out at dinner and put away the leftovers as a quick study break. He smiled at the pasta he’d saved for Haechan knowing it would make his boyfriend’s day to find food ready for him after a long night of dance practice. When he walked back into Hyuck’s bedroom to finish the lab, he noticed several notifications on his phone again.

Mom: Hey you’re coming home on Wednesday right? You’ll be done with finals week by then?

Dad: Hey y/n you better have a gift ready for your mother when you come home on Tuesday. She’s still pretty upset about Haechan, so you should really try to make her feel better.

Bro: Dude mom and dad are pissed cuz dad thought you were coming home Tuesday after your final, and then mom told him you said Wednesday. So he flipped and said you were probably staying longer to fuck Haechan or something

Y/N: I told them both Wednesday. I AM spending Tuesday night at Hyuck’s place. But I just wanted a night to relax before immediately coming home

Don’t tell them that… just say I’m busy or something

Bro: sorry bro, that’s not gonna work. You better come home Tuesday or they’re gonna make the trip absolute hell for you

Y/N: fuck ok fine, I’ll make it work

Y/n was getting more and more stressed by the second. And now he wouldn’t even get any sort of buffer between finals week and seeing his family. And fuck he had that feeling in his head- that feeling of anxiety setting in- making him slightly dizzy and his chest tight. Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna have a panic attack. I know it’s coming. Should I call Hyuck? He should be on his way home by now anyway right? Ok fuck. Yeah he should call his boyfriend. Maybe he could talk him through it. He prayed he was right and Hyuck would actually answer his phone, and to his relief, Hyuck answered right away.

“y/n! I’m on my way home and practice went pretty well! I think the show is going to be really good this quarter. Have you made dinner yet? And how’s the studying going?” He was so excited to hear his y/n ie’s voice on the phone. “Hyuck.” Y/n felt the lump in his throat form and wasn’t able to get out the rest of your words as he broke into tears. “Y/n? What’s wrong love? Are you ok?” No words came out of y/n as he began to hyperventilate. Haechan could hear y/n’s shallow breathing and put together that he must be having a panic attack. He assured y/n he’d be there in the next ten minutes and stayed on the phone with him until he rushed through the door exactly ten minutes later, Immediately making his way over to y/n huddled in the corner of his bed crying and hyperventilating. From past experience he knew y:n liked him to stay close until he was able to calm down and talk.

Haechan slowly climbed into the bed, sliding his body between your back and the bed frame, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting bear hug. “I’ve got you y/n. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere.” Y/n began shaking in Haechan’s arms unable to fully process what was happening with his mind completely taken over by panic at this point. Haechan rested his chin on y/n’s soft hair and hummed a song. Y/n did his best to focus on the light vibrations on his head from Haechan’s tune. “I’ll just talk about my day a little too ok y/n? Squeeze my hand if you’d like that.” Y/n’s eyes remained squeezed tight, and his body was still trembling, but he gives Haechan’s hand a light squeeze back. “Ok love. Let’s see… I saw Jungwoo today! I know he’s your favorite dance major right? He was really cool to watch, you were right! He might even be more charismatic than me” he teased. Y/n didn’t laugh out loud or acknowledge him, but he appreciated Hyuck trying to lighten the mood. “I spent most of the night working on my duet with Mark though. They have us doing this really acrobatic hiphop song and it’s a lot of work. I’ve memorized all the footwork though. It was kind of funny watching Mark struggle with it more than me for once honestly. Next time you should tag along and watch. When it’s not finals week of course!” He adds, giving a small pec to your forehead.

“Is that why you’re stressed by the way? Finals?” He doesn’t really expect y/n to give any responses yet. But much to his surprise you shake your head in response. “No. More.” Y/n says quietly, starting to breath a little more evenly. “What else baby? What’s stressing you out.”

“Everything!” Y/n exclaims. “So much. TOO much” y/n squeaks out bursting into more tears. Haechan gently shushes you and squeezes his arms tighter around your body and begins planting little kisses all over your head to comfort you. “It’s ok y/n. It’s ok.” Hyuck can feel y/n’s body body relax a tiny bit despite his sobs. Y/n spins around melting into Haechan and burying his face in his chest

To be continued…

[bioethicists]

Why do you use '+' and '/' instead of words? Not to be rude, I am curious

LOL thank you for being polite about this. i've gotten some pretty rude/condescending comments or tags about it (one person just tagged a post of mine "you can just type out 'and' babes, it's fine" which like... fuck off?). one person tagged a post of mine 'for further study' specifically of my syntax which my friends + family had a FIELD DAY with

there's a few reasons- partly bcuz i communicate via textspeak quite regularly + my texting is actually so much more atrocious bcuz i do not make an attempt to correct most typos. i keep pretty intense hybrid academic/field note/personal journals + i already used '+' in those for brevity's sake so that i could write faster. additionally, i have a compulsion which sometimes makes me feel the need to write words 3x before moving on but symbols/numbers are not usually affected by this + i suppose that on the flip side, my liberal use of / is related to the compulsive need to be as thorough as possible (as well as put things in 3s) + a fear that i will miss information + 'spoil' my point. i do very genuinely worry that my points will be 'wrong'/'contaminated'/'bad' if i don't put certain things in 3s.

but also, when i was hospitalized in 2022 i got very attached to my concepts related to dialectics + multiplicity + i got a tattoo of the '+' sign to represent this. with language, my goal is usually to tear it up (forgive me but that beckett quote rules my life) rather than string it together. using things like '+', '/', '|', liberal use of '()', etc (i've also felt quite compelled to make use of the assignment operator, '< -', but i'm probably going to confine that to poetry for the time being) lets me feel like i'm seeding my language with a sense of multiplicity while remaining (more) concise (than i could have been)

also also, i do a lot of programming for my job (like statistics/data analysis programming in R) + i've gained a great appreciation for the brevity/precision/elegance offered by programming. similarly, i do a lot of translation (well not so much anymore due to The Tasks) which similarly has brought me to a much more antagonistic relationship with the limitations of language + a desire to capture the thing in between it which is perhaps a really silly thing to claim i could do by replacing my '+' signs but. someday.

needless to say, my formal academic writing is NOT like this but my hope is to someday gain the resources i need from academic in such a way that i can dedicate 100% of my time to writing which aligns with these values.

if this seems excessive, it is because i am insane. hope that helps.

[thelongestway]

Me: slowly working on outlining s5. Me: remembers that there's one more really fun social group that TTOU mentioned and cut off before Aspen could talk about them. Me: they survived! they have to be incredibly weird by now! Also they have one of my favorite mechanisms of group reproduction ever, soo... Also me: I need to figure out the Vivacious' new crew complement, and also how Cosmica forms its roster.

You: get this little thing, which is... I'm not sure if the worldbuilding here is actually in its final form, but hey, a sketch is a sketch. Beware of the awful fictional sociology and enjoy. :P

As Above, So Below (Ruby)

I know the group of people I'm supposed to meet immediately, even though I've never seen them before in my life. They've commandeered a table right near the clear glass wall of the observation lounge and are splitting their attention between monitoring the space-side approach to the Courageous and going through the sort of motions people who are going to be in each other's life for a while do when they first meet. Of course it's them. It couldn't be anyone else.

Three out of four in the group are familiar from transit on the Maple Adventurous, so they must have come down from the Asteroids like I did. (Or at least that was their last stop pre-wormhole, I remind myself. Any Hylarans would likely have gone that way for transit, too.) The last one? Judging by the salvia leaves adorning their shoulders, they're from the Perceptive. Hmm. That's a pretty old ship.

They live up to their old cluster name, catching my glance and waving me over. I join the table, making our gathering a five-pointed star, and I can't help but smile to myself. Not a bad personal omen.

"Here for the Vivacious?" I nod, and they press a button on their emergency comm. Mine chimes, receiving data. Oh. If they know my comm, and can match it to my face, they must be our future captain. "I'm Cypress. Used to be the Perceptive's logistics officer. And now, your shipmate."

Right. Not cluster, not yet. Not until the social dynamics shake out and we figure out if we can live with each other and with our new ship. Triune divinity and their singular consort, Arborea Cosmica and its frankly byzantine social praxis is going to get some getting used to. But well, I knew what I signed up for.

I quickly give my communicator a glance, just so I can get everyone's formalities right, and then offer my greeting.

"I'm Rubrum of Blackthorn Base," I say, using the Arborean version of my name. "Ruby's fine, too."

"Mm," Cypress says, smiling sympathetically as he pushes a clean glass towards me. "Everyone, meet our science officer."

"Science!" The shortest member of the crew--Bee of the Aurora Set, our computer technician--kicks up kes feet and grins. "So, what sort of science do you do?"

I flush. But as the captain's gesture implies, I might as well get this over with.

"Sociology."

Everyone stares.

"Taproot and stars," our engineer, Coleus, puts his head in his hands. "The Vivacious did not."

"They did."

"Are you that good?" Bee asks directly, frowning at me.

I shake my head. "This is my second assignment post-doctorate. I didn't even expect to be getting a jump ship position this early, much less as a senior officer on this specific ship. And no, I don't know why exactly they wanted me either. They didn't specify."

Coleus lets out a complicated whistle, which I recognize as the refrain in a popular Hylaran song about the vagaries of fate, and claps me on the shoulder. The logistics officer, Bursten Fields, takes the pitcher on the table and silently pours me a drink. The drink is non-alcoholic, not tonight, but I appreciate his sentiment anyway.

"I'm actually very glad we have a sociologist," Cypress says. "Because judging by the crew manifesto Aspen sent me, we're going to spend a lot of time getting used to each other's cultures."

"Really? Can I see?"

The captain nods and sends me the file.

I skim the roster's sparse data, and… Blackthorn spine and toe of frog, I can see why our captain has questions. Some of them, I might even be ready to answer, because there's at least one obvious thing Aspen did here, and it's actually kind of funny. The initial roster is the most barebones quota sample imaginable, featuring people from different planets, age and social groups, faiths and visible genetic heritages--all the easy things you want to have on hand if you want to see how people we encounter out in the new worlds might react to the makeup of Starwind Accord society in a nutshell. (Even though that sample means fewer people from Arborea Cosmica proper than one might have expected. Only the captain and navigator so far.)

(Also fifteen people isn't anywhere near enough for a proper sample of this type, but the full roster is made together with the initial crew seed, so that's out of their hands. I guess they're hoping we'll bring people in accordance with the initial parameters they've set, or at least close enough.)

But that roster is also missing one obvious and important component, and its lack sends a chill down my spine.

"Let me confirm that," I say, looking at Cypress. "Not a single person from the Courageous cluster."

He nods, looking deeply uncomfortable. I can imagine why. Ships changing form didn't mean they shed their entire cluster. Sure, historically you had some pretty large hivings off, especially when the Great Ships went from ship to station to ship again, because some people strongly preferred one or the other way of life. And one could expect more losses here, considering the deeply unusual decision of deciding to leave the Courageous name and mantle to the station… But the entire cluster? I'd expected us to be half, if not three-fourths, former Courageous crew. Okay, fine, accounting for the quota sample--one or two people at least?

And instead we were all complete strangers. To a new jump ship. This was ludicrous.

What in the empty Cosmos could possibly have happened between Aspen and their family?

Wait, though. Was it their family? I skim the roster again, and yeah. This was even weirder.

"Scratch cluster," I say, taking a swig of my drink. "This looks like there's not a single person from Trellin? And I can't check that for sure, but if I were to guess--probably no one from any ships that routinely run routes to Trellin?"

"Not a single person our ship knows," Bursten murmurs, looking as unsettled as I felt. "What the fuck. Any explanations, science officer?"

Not the captain. Who's a) Arborean and b) has been briefed. Oh, the first few months of this were going to be so fucking stupid, at least until I make enough visible mistakes so that people stop going 'wow, sociologist picked by Aspen themselves'. I'd start doing that now, but it'd be even more stupid if I didn't run the problem by the captain first.

So I say, "All I can do for now is guess, like maybe that Courageous Station is huge and needs all hands on deck to help the new node or something. Though I still can't imagine the Courageous cluster not having anyone to spare for Aspen--that's not how it's done in Arborea Cosmica, right, captain?"

The captain makes a dismissive hand motion.

"Of course not. Normally we would have had someone, but this time the risk was too great."

All four of us stare at him. (Even as I mentally sigh in relief. Sorry for putting you through that, Cypress.)

"What risk?" Bursten asks.

"According to the Courageous' cluster's briefing, there's been complications with Aspen's old synnerve system because they've been keeping track of far too many people for far too long. The plan is to let their new synnerve system recuperate with as few familiar stimuli as possible, and also with as few people in the crew as possible. Which is where we come in."

Suddenly my research begins to make sense in context.

"Quarantine. So that's why we're a skeleton crew of strangers," Coleus furrows his brow, absentmindedly sketching something invisible on the table with the blunt of his spoon. "For how long?"

"It's not a temporary assignment, if that's what you're wondering. Station Commander Bodack called it an exile, so the minimum time frame here is years, and we're going to be very far out in the new worlds besides. Those of us who work out as crew are going to be the seed of a proper new cluster."

Coleus nods, his question answered.

I add, "I can see the logic behind not having anyone from Trellin on the roster now. Aspen's taking no chances. Also, if my specialty's anything to go by, we each probably have some sort of niche expertise that might help here."

"Makes sense!" Bee says, nodding rapidly. "I do a lot of work on ship-human connections, and just before you got here, Coleus was saying he worked on tricky synnerve stuff. So what's your specialty, Ruby?"

"How small can you make a hiving off to still have it be a viable vector of cultural transmission." Of course, I'd never dealt with going from tens of thousands of people to less than a hundred. My case studies were all more in the vicinity of several dozen going to a hive-off of several people, and also in the context of a mainstream culture that was superficially similar to ours, but also confusingly different, which I didn't think was a type of problem we'd have with the new worlds.

"And what does your research say here?"

"That it worries me whether the cutoff they've chosen isn't too harsh. Yes, minimum group size for effective transmission is just six or seven people, if other conditions are right and everything is set up correctly, but Aspen's a node ship, not leading a human hiveoff. Even the prototypal coming-of-age exile allows for communications, and for members of one's cluster visiting. Aspen's project looks a lot harsher at first glance. Either the situation's just that bad, or…" I trail off, looking at my new shipmates.

Bursten scratches his chin. "Or maybe they've got it covered in a different way. The other ship roaming that far out is still going to be the Tenacious, right, captain? And they're the ones in charge of our training?"

Cypress nods. "We'll be working together closely, yes, both during and after the initial months."

That would do it. Ships usually know their shiblings' clusters quite well, but not to the same intimate extent as their own. I feel a weight fall from my shoulders.

"So no big deal," Coleus grins. "Two out of three Great Ships out in the new worlds, and us wet-behind-the-ears astronauts together with them. Are we sure the Waveskimmer isn't planning to set off from Trellin anytime soon either?"

"Two forage, one tends. Also, I know none of you grew up in Arborea Cosmica, but seriously. Don't use that moniker in direct conversation with our ship, or anywhere they can overhear. And never call the Tenacious 'Phoenix' in earshot of her crew. Trust me, you do not want to ride that storm."

Captain Cypress gives Coleus a pointed look, and our engineer throws up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know! Literally every Hylaran knows!"

"And this is why you don't try to make something taboo," I mutter. "Seriously, she should have known better."

Or at least Aspen should have. The Herostratus-Streisand effect is called that for a reason.

Cypress folds his hands, guarded. "She never did. And she never says a word about it. She just doesn't like it, and her crew know that."

The implied "and so should you" hangs heavy around the table. I can see on the captain's face that the gigantic task of acculturating a crew that's almost entirely non-Arborean is beginning to dawn on him, so I don't say anything about how you don't have to actually explicitly try to make something taboo to wind up with the same result. That's the kind of notion that usually takes a year or two of training to really start sinking in, and he doesn't have that, not yet.

I wonder suddenly if Aspen ever had to hold their tongue like I am doing now. Maybe they did know better, but just couldn't do anything about it. Not every social process can be controlled; most need to be ridden out. And if anyone knows about that, it would be Aspen, specializing at the other end of the social scale from me.

Truth be told, that was the reason I'd never done much more than skim their work: I never really understood the fascination of that moment where people become numbers. Aspen as a theorist was mesmerized by the movements of millions of people, while I always worked on localized groups, their small and specific habits, traditions, dilemmas and problems. I wasn't bad with numbers by any means, but really, I couldn't even imagine--and didn't actually want to imagine--the scale they usually worked at. Did they struggle just as much working at mine?

But what was all of Starwind Accord but a small fringe group in comparison to the enormity of the new worlds? And what was our little research ship but a microcosm of even that tiny, localized subset of humanity?

As above, so below, I suppose. And wherever we find ourselves in that ancient equation, we have our work cut out for us.

[tetsunabouquet]

Titan Shifters; Eren Yeager X Reader

A/N: Like I mentioned on my blog, I watched a Rise Of The Lycans analysis a few days ago and this prompted me to go on a rewatch. I am blaming this fic on Lucian.

You were jittering with nerves, being assigned to help with Eren's titan shifting experiments so they could compare your data. You were really intrigued by him. Born of human parents, yet being able to shift into a titan. Unlike you. You were the prized secret of the Survey Corps, the secret they had been hiding from the military police since your birth. The story they told was that they found you as a baby during their expedition, miraculously alive and the Survey Corps insisted into adopting you at their base under the excuse they had grown attached to you. The real truth was much more strange, and horrifying. On a scouting mission, they encountered a few titans, one acting more strangely then the rest. At first, they thought it was an Abnormal, until it started to evaporate on its own. In the middle of the smoke and bones, was a baby. You. The daughter of a titan and completely looking like a normal human baby. Keith Shadis who had been the Commander at the time, looked at the baby in his arms and he did not have it in him to surrender you to the Military Police and what kind of tests they might do to a tiny little baby. Keith Shadis was a hard man, but not heartless. As imperfect as he was, he had been the only father you'd ever known and you were sad to see him go. But he said it was for the best, especially after that event on your 8th birthday which had transpired a year before the fall of Shiganshina, when you had transformed into a 12 meter titan by accident. It seemed like you were some kind of half-titan, Hange would later conclude. Erwin had been good to you after he came into charge at the Survey Corps and Levi thankfully managed to keep Hange under control who continued to creep you out. But you missed Keith all the same. Getting a new piece of the puzzle of the titan mystery and your own, had made you look forward to meeting the boy. You had not nearly expected him to be so cute and looking like he would grow into a very handsome man. Needless to say, you had a slight crush and the idea of comparing your titan form to his, just flustered you beyond belief.

Things had turnt out interesting, like finding out Eren needed to self harm and focus in order to shift. You never did, you only needed to focus on a woman you presumed had been your mother's human form. She would often come to you in your dreams and you very vividly remembered blowing out the birthday candles on your eight birthday, thinking of that woman and how she never got to see you grow up before you transformed. Eren's titan had a different smell then the other titans you've encountered before. He still smelt human after turning into a titan. Hange had found it marvellous and had proceeded to question you why you never said titans smelt different to you and how humans smelt like. This was exactly why you never told Hange anything, because she would bombard you with questions that gave a headache. When she finally backed down, you had the opportunity to sit down in peace. Much to your surprise, Eren sat down next to you. "She finally left you off the hook huh?" He remarked and you chuckled. "Seems so." "How have you endured her for so long?" Eren asked which made you sigh with the weight of tolerating Hange for years. "I suppose it's my angelic patience." You offered as you looked up at the sun that hung low in the sky. "I swear she can be so creepy, like the way she measures my titan form every month as mine does ages alongside me. It gives me the icks." "So your titan underwent puberty? Like…" Eren looked a little red faced but continued bluntly, "it didn't always have boobs?" You stuttered with an even redder face,"Just wh-what were you l-looking at?!" "I'm a boy you know, and you're hot." Eren clarified and you might as well have fainted on the spot. Eren Yeager certainly changed your life for good, that's for sure.

[planet-of-the-machines]

[Voice transcription enabled]:

>Hey class! Crosshairs again-<

+And F!+

>we-<

=hey Cross! Don't leave us out!=

>*sigh* and the rest of the bozos in my salvage team are kinda confined to the repair bay after some trouble with helping field testing brainstorm with some new munitions.<

+I got to drop bombs!+

^And got a load of fried electronics in your systems, so hold still and let me do your repairs birdbrain!^

>yeah, so some munitions were a bit volatile, so we're getting repairs. Saw the details on that blizzard, at least you've got shelter. But since you lot are stuck there, my team and I can give you some tips!<

)Play knife monopol-(

*Sounds of metal clashing on metal*

^Absolutely not! Knife monopoly is banned for a reason! Now bring that wrench back over here, moron.^

>actual first tip, investigate, but do not interfere with the local power source. Exemptions only for skilled reactor personnel.<

/second, do not go off in groups with less than four members! If someone gets stuck, you'll have at least two people to attempt rescue an a third to call for additional help!/

+oh! Don't enter enclosed spaces! My team had to scrounge a lot for supplies. We... kinda got all our wings stuck full open cause we got circuits scrambled by radiation, so we couldn't stow em. And cause of that we get stuck a lot in buildings...+

)not the only thing scrambl-*CLANG*Ow!(

>Shut it, Singe!<

^well, that explains the damages that don't match with the other munitions you clowns tested. I don't have suitable replacement parts here maybe when chromedome gets back I can negotiate some parts for those repairs.^

>okay, we'll send questions every now and then with some advice so you don't get screwed over by architecture no longer up to code. For our first question...<

+ooh! N! What do you and your team do in downtime nowadays? I've been bored cuz I'm not allowed out to fly without others out to keep an eye on me...+

>... eh that works...<

#could you all be quiet? I'm trying to get some recharge in#

- >Crosshairs<, +Serial Designation F+, =Roadbuster=, )Singe(, ^Glit^, /Cloudraker/, and #Crankcase# of Outpost 15

(Added some text flair to tell us apart)- Crosshairs

P.s. we saw the posts from Spinister. We've hooked him up with an empty petabyte hard drive so he can just shove junk data in it. We can't help em with the coma bit til chromedome is back tho. He's our coding expert.

One more thing, Brainstorm told me he's got some special weapon design he's finished testing. He wants it to be a surprise, no matter that I've told him a weapon of his design is the last thing anyone with self-preservation protocols would want to be surprised by...

...

Does using a power amplifier on the power generator count as interference?

-Bee

I believe that would be Wheeljack's area of expertise. Let's just hope you and Uzi didn't strain the electrical transformers or anything crucial.

-Boulder

BITE ME! >:(

And quit complicating my investigation!

-Uzi

I did not say that as an insult.

Also, F, how did you come across radiation? N2 mines get their name from being Non-Nuclear.

-Boulder

Outpost 15's in or near California, right? Maybe one of their earthquakes ruptured a nuclear power plant.

-Hot Rod

I find it more likely that N2 mines hadn't entirely phased out nuclear weapons...

So, anyone going with the gremlin on her little search?

-Heatwave.

Ooh, I'll go!

As for your question, F, I spend my spare time helping out throughout the outpost. It was kinda part of the deal with Mr. Kup and the council has with me. Be useful, and me and my sisters might fully integrate into the outpost.

As for what V and J do...

-N

I've been assigned remedial training courses by these toasters' barely-functioning government. To "undo the corpo brainwashing," one of them said. V has to go back to her cell after class, because apparently she ALMOST GOT HERSELF KILLED!!!

-J

Again, how was I supposed to know Doll would be spamming ctrl + copy on kitchen knives? |:(

Besides, best to stay a little distant, don'tcha think?

-V

Uh, boss? Are you sure you're doing okay?

-N

IM COMPLETELY FINE, N! I'M AS PROFESSIONAL AND UP TO GUIDELINES AS EVER!!!

-J

Take the corporate simp with you. We don't need a mental breakdown ruining the mood.

And Bee.

-Cliff

What!? I'm sorry, as much as I'd like to help Uzi, I'm not going with her! Besides, Hot Rod's not the greatest at camping stories.

-Bee

So we'll send him to replace you after a while.

Seriously, I know J tried to kill you, but you lived. H*ll, you jammed her weapons and sh*t. You can definitely take her for a while.

-Cliff

You'll be fine, Chatterbox. If she tries anything, I'll blow her to bits with my Sick as [Parental Filter activated] Railgun. So can we please get going already?

Also, what's knife monopoly? Sounds fun. >:)

-Uzi

[amparol12]

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[macademiastudies]

November 22nd, 2024

Chemtrails Over the Country Club - Lana Del Rey ⇄ ◁◁ II ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰ ²⁵ ━━●━━━━━━━━ ⁰² ⁰⁸

Myself and my best friend decided to take the GMAT test together in a month- yes, a massive stretch but the pressure may work better for me. I need to improve my rate of actually following through with work that I start, so I'm going to start and not stop with the GMAT and finally tackle some daunting assignments today. Got tons of random stuff on the to-do list today, so seeing it all laid out here helps tackle each task one by one. Reading at a 50s-themed cafe- ft. some deep fried halloumi sticks because my arteries can go sue me. To-do: 🦉Take GMAT diagnostic test 🦉Setup a GMAT study plan + order some books 🦉Find a new budgeting template, mine is getting harder to trace spending 🦉Set up my new bedside shelf 🦉Order some new essential oils 🦉Get my new passport 🦉Setup a box of donations 🦉Write down work SOPs 🦉submit yfinance Python Project 🦉CS50 Python Lecture 1 assignments 🦉CS50 Python Lecture 2 assignments (yes yes I'm behind now) 🦉Duolingo level 2 🦉Data course unit 6.1 🦉Wrap gift for work party

Self-care: 🕯️Everything-shower 🕯️High-intensity workout

Reading: 🦉Industries of the future - read up to ch 4 🦉The pumpkin plan - read up to ch 5

P.s. icon at the start is from emojicombos

[sntechsupport]

H3ll0! I hav3 a qu3sti0n r3v0lving ar0und strif3 sp3cibus! If y0u cant answ3r that is c0mpl3tl3y fin3!

(Translation: hello! I have a question revolving around strife specibus! If you cant answer that is completely fine!)

Im having a hard tim3 figuring 0ut a strif3 sp3cibus typ3 f0r mys3lf (m3 as my Tr0lls0na) im a sylph 0f Rag3 purpl3 bl00d, w0uld y0u Happ3n t0 hav3 any sugg3sti0ns f0r a strif3 sp3cibus?

(Translation: im having a hard time figuring out a strife specibus for myself (me as my trollsona) im a sylph of rage purple blood, would you happen to have any suggestions for a strife specibus?)

(Again if this ask isnt answerable it is completely fine! Please do have a nice day and if you do answer my ask thank you and i appreciate your time! :o3 )

Okay, you know what? I am going to get off the clock and answer this one. This is not a tech support problem and SkaiaNet is not responsible for strife secibi in any matter, but I like weapozination.

There really isn’t a best strife specibus, and they are more or less equally distributed among the Classpects. Relatively speaking, I mean. Not many people use, say, syringekind, but those who do are quite equally assigned to all Classpects.

We don’t really collect ethnical data (we don’t actually care), so I can’t say anything about castes.

However. A good strife specibus should be something you have readily avaiable in a variety and are comfortable handling. It does help if it is practical as a weapon, but some people prefer having fun with the concept over the actual usability. What is a thiny you have often in your hand, you know how to use it, and it could cause bodily injury to your opponent? Do you juggle? Clubskind? Ballkind? Confetti grenades are bombkind.

There are two types of strife specibi classification, you will have to stick to one: form and concept.

Form classification describes weapon by their physical form. Bladekind, hammerkind, bowkind, riflekind, fankind, bookkind, you get the idea.

Concept classification describes weapons by their usage, their purpose. Executionerkind, guardkind, stationerykind, lightlind et cetera.

If you find yourself preferring concept classification, your strife specibus will be more versatile as to its content, but you will be more limited in how you can use it, and vice versa. A bladekind will be excellent at cutting anything, but you’ll never get to blunt weapons. Executioner kind gives you some big swords, guillotine and even poisons, but nothing that would help you peel vegetables.

I can hardly pick a specibus for you, I am highly biased towards mine, but hopefully you will find these pointers helpful while you ponder your choice.

Also don’t overthink it. You can have up to 4 strife specibi, and while they are locked to the concept/form side, 4 is enough to cover anything you might need. Hell, most people do just fine with 2.

Gear out.

[morphringwiselove]

rambling about art struggles (sorry)

i think what's limiting me during drawing is that im thinking too much about line art / not knowing how to combine line art and color in a manner that im satisfied with

really sorry for how rambly this gets forgive me (this is also barely edited and im barely conscious)

95% of the art i made in my life has been done traditionally and in monochrome; usually i dont bother to ever color it bc i only had access to shitty colored pencils and everytime it would always fuck it up, constantly smudging into each other

4% of the time was like when i was in middle school and discovered how to fucking pirate paint tool sai and i blindly did whatever i could with a mouse (read: i gave myself carpel tunnel a lot lmao). i think i still have access to like 4 drawings i did thanks to google photos and the only ones i can really look back on positively were the line art ones and even then thats cause i used deviantart bases lol

heres the literal 1%: i did an art class back in late 2020 - early 2021 (can't remember what level it was? or what it specialized? it was the third art class i ever took. it might be intro to painting?) and i got to use acrylic paint for an assignment! i fucked up using it because i painted it with the goal of filling up the insides of the lineart instead of using the palette knife to create texture. my subject was an otter in the water (fun thing to say) and the assignment was to create some form of pop art, depict contrast w color (otters are brown i know, wanted to use orange highlights against the blue water) and to show i know how to depict varying textures (fur, liquid).

i did not know how to fucking do that!!! couldnt get any help either due to covid fucking happening and my poor ass's only connection to the internet was my fucking phone data and it was draining fast LMAO

the reason as to why i was so poor was because back in October 2019 my life fucking got flipped upside down and i had to give up a lot and had to desperately try to find a job while being a student. (will not go into specific detail due to me not wanting a pity party about it and it being too personal. im only going to say that caregiver burnout is fucking hell)

a prior assignment to that class had us practicing on depicting textures on some sort of paper (it was stiff yet bendable iirc) with a white and black color pencil (white for fur, black for eyes). i was watching aggretsuko at the time and fenneko is a fav of mine so i picked that type of fox as my subject. im really proud of the way i depicted the fur but fucking hated how i fucked up the eyes. was supposed to show the "glossiness" of it and i dont have a pet irl to reference so ahhhHHHH it ruined the piece for me. pretty sure i have it saved somewhere but since its not fandom related im hesitant to post it.

overall the class made me realise that regardless of skill i rlly like drawing textures and i dont really understand why? tried to reasoned it out to be that i just really like textured blankets and that theyre comforting. i purr like a fucking cat when i like hug one and i hate it

i feel like nowadays with how scatterbrained and stressed i am i visualize blobs of color in my mind instead of clear subjects with clear outlines. i feel like i need to embrace that side more (or at least try starting with that when doing digital art). maybe now i wont be so fucking stuck and pressing ctrl z all the time lol

[flipping-the-coin]

[Inquisitorial Report: Subject - Megatron of Kaon]

[Authorization Level: Alpha (Elite Guard Selective)]

[Listed Authorizations: Head Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen]

[Assigned Inquisitor: Hush]

[16 Vorns after Cybertron’s Restoration - One Vorn, Nine Stellar-Cycles into assignment]

═════════════════

Hey Smokescreen. I’ve found out a great deal over the past stellar-cycle… and I think we have a real problem on our servos. Just, work with me here as I try to explain it all. I’ll work down the chain of stuff I think is important.

I was doing as you asked and looking into Alpha Trion, and I’ve found some things out. Although before I begin, I will say I’ve found exactly nothing about that doctor. He’s up and vanished again so I’d drop it if I were you. From what I heard, this something or other Wire guy killed one of the mechs trying to track him. A guardsmech too, might I add. If you sent that poor spark out… Well, I found their body dumped into a ditch a few miles away from my current location. I’d stay out of that Doctor’s way. He seems to not want to be found. And please, if you even give a frag about us, stop sending Inquisitors younger than me out on these sorts of missions. According to the Decepticon codex, no mech younger than twenty vorns should be anywhere near the front lines for a plethora of medical reasons, and that poor Inquisitor in the ditch was hardly five. Don’t let the younger ones get involved with this. I know it is their duty, but they deserve better.

Additionally, it has come to my attention that the Primal Steward is straight up nuts. First Aid came back to us on the brink of tears last deca-cycle. Doctor Ratchet is apparently on the edge of nose diving straight into some sort of breakdown and it does not comfort me in the slightest. He said it looked like a nervous reaction, something Ratchet couldn’t control. I am dead serious when I say he needs a Doctor, Smokescreen. Poor First Aid is losing his mind over all this. Can’t you do anything to help? I may not be Ratchet’s biggest fan after all he’s done to Orion, but even I can tell that mech isn’t doing all of this with a sound mind.

Regarding Carnage… nevermind. I don’t think you need to know about him. Simply put, I’ve experienced some frame changes. Having Carnage around has made my life make more sense. I also had a talk with Megatron after I ended up being unable to keep my sensory panels down after he dropped a plate. I was freaking out over it because, you know… my processor is literally exposed in the back when that happens and I get so much visual data I don’t know what to do. He didn’t get mad or anything, he just sat me down at the table and passed me a new visor and told me to put it on. A full facial visor, battle worthy too from my assessment of it. I did as he asked and the moment I had it on, it connected to my sub-sensory systems. I can actually control what I am seeing now.

With the visor the world is a lot easier to handle, and even Orion seemed happy for me. I was able to control how and when I flare my sensory panels. I could even control my extra optics for once. I know it doesn’t mean a lot to you, but I’ve never been able to operate normally and that visor meant the world to me. It has made a lot of things better, but more importantly to me at any rate, the dust doesn’t bother me nearly as much. And on top of that, helping Megatron search out typos in his poetry is far easier. Our poem production time has gone down exponentially, thank Primus. I can only handle so much of that when Orion is gone.

On another note, Orion bought the land the engraver’s hab was on. He’s hired a crew to go and build something or other in that area. He didn’t share the plans and Megatron keeps giving me this knowing look rather than actually explaining anything. The garden is growing well and I actually feel proficient in my work now. Everything is going according to mine and Orion’s outlined plans and things are… theoretically quiet.

 It has been storming a lot as of late, and I ended up getting sick for a while. It was the worst when the date night I mentioned last report actually occurred. I really did my best to help Megatron prepare for it, I even took some meds I nabbed from the pharmacy nearby. But it was rough, Smokescreen. I got to help Megatron cook a strange dish I cannot pronounce the name of, and it tasted delightful of course. Here’s the recipe if you like. I zipped it for your convenience. 

[Kaoni_dishes_that_I_like.zip]

As I was saying, I was super out of it that night. I did what I could, but my vision was blurry even with the visor. I couldn’t see straight and it felt like all my sensory sub-routines were out of sorts. Carnage tried to convince me to not help since my vision was so bad, but in the end he served as my guide throughout the night. He was my optics throughout the cycle, at least until my tactile sensors began acting up as well. I felt like every little thing was so much more… there? Even the ground beneath my pedes suddenly felt so hard that it hurt my legs. I must have been down on my firewall updates because by the time I retreated into my hole in the wall to let Megatron and Orion have their date night, I could hardly move far enough in to close the vent cover. I must have passed out at some point because the next thing I remembered was being pulled out by Megatron of all mecha.

I had no clue what time it was, where I was, or what was going on. I just recall being gently laid down somewhere soft and having my visor lifted enough for energon to be poured down my throat. It got bad enough that I remember being too overwhelmed to even vent properly. But at some point, I must have gotten well enough to sit up because my next real memory is of sitting in the garden all curled up late at night, my sensory panels fully flared. 

Why am I mentioning this at all? Because I got mouthy when I was sick, and while I was out there in the garden, me and Orion talked. He had… a lot to say after I said my piece. And I think you really need to start checking out our ranks, Smokescreen. Something is off. But anyway, our conversation went something like this:

“It is very lonely living this way. Always serving, never experiencing.”

“Are the working conditions here not to your liking? If so, I am terribly sorry, Melody.”

“No. I love working here. I love living here most of the time… but I have mecha who expect me to serve them since they took me in. Without them, I would probably have starved to death vorns ago.”

“You are an orphan?”

“No. My caretaker got rid of me after my optics became a problem. The Guar-, excuse me. My organization took me in after they found me wandering the streets. It was a chance at a better life… all in exchange for my service.”

“Are you running from them? Is that why you have no residence?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I can run from them… but I care about this place. I care about you and Megatron. You are the only bots who have treated me well. Like a real person.”

“I will not pry, but do know I understand your struggles to a degree. My Sire took me in from the wilds when I was just a sparkling. But he was a very strict mech.”

“You were brought up in the archives, right?”

“By the one and only Alpha Trion, the Master Archivist. He had plans for me that I never fully deciphered, so he raised me in relative isolation. I was forbidden to engage in anything that did not meet his standards. Including but not limited to most forms of leisure or potentially dangerous activity.”

“At least he cared about you.”

“I like to believe he did… but my life was cultivated to his vision. Even my friends were brought in by him. Ratchet, my oldest friend, was my physician long before he became my associate and began taking me to see the world my Sire forbade me to engage with. And Jazz only entered my life after Ratchet went through… an accident.”

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

“It has been over for a long time now. I have my Conjunx, and he showed me everything I’ve ever missed. I do not regret my life in the slightest.”

“If it isn’t too much, could you tell me about Alpha Trion? How was he with you? Like… his habits and whatnot?”

“Why do you ask?”

“One of my bosses was looking into him, probably trying to locate a secret stash or something. I don’t know. It’s not really my business. But he wanted to know about Alpha Trion’s tendencies for his investigation last time I talked to him… I won’t tell him anything sensitive, but it would be nice to know.”

“… My Sire was always a strict mech. He had a tendency to use the fears and beliefs of those around him to his advantage. He tried hard to get me to become religious to the point of fanaticism by leaning into my interest in history, but it was not very effective. His most common method of getting me to obey was to use conditioning, associating certain activities with reward and others with punishment.”

“Sounds like my training.”

“What?”

“Sorry, continue.”

“Very well… He also had a surprising amount of influence, often digging his digits into religious organizations to get what he wanted. I do not know the extent of it, but by the time I was preparing to leave Iacon for good, I know he had much of the Primacy aiding him in collecting data. It seemed innocent enough for a Master Archivist, but looking back, those priests, and the Elite Guard for that matter, were oddly devoted.”

“The Elite Guard?”

“Yes. The Elite Guard and the Primacy listened to my Sire whenever he gave them an order. Strange, is it not? I never understood it… but I do know that he was very invested in cultural survival and put a great deal of time and effort into preserving archaic beliefs. I think he may have even been an associate of Sentinel Prime.”

“O-oh… How strange.”

As the conversation went on… I started to piece some things together. Alpha Trion had his digits in the Elite Guard and the Primacy, right? Well I started looking into our organization in my down time and I found a few worrying signs, Smokescreen. I know you are technically at the head of our order, but looking at the charts, it certainly doesn’t seem like you are actually in charge of much. No offence, but all you do is give speeches and assign personal escorts when needed. Do you actually know who is doing the sermons or the teaching? What about our recruits? I was looking into the Elite Guard training program and they are far harsher on the little ones than they were on me. Are we becoming radical?

The Decepticons did the same thing millennia ago and look where that led them! Seriously, who is in charge of the Elite Guard? Who is running the church? I can’t find any names, just references to the High Priest. Who is this person? Because I’m looking at the details of the Guard and, by Primus… fifteen casualties a stellar-cycle amongst recruits. We are overly fanatic, taught not to doubt our Prime. Taught to obey without question. That’s textbook cult behavior, Smokescreen! The Decepticon codex outlines what a corrupt organization looks like and we are it! Money is going places I can’t track. We have agents that are being deployed to suspicious locations. The Primacy is issuing heresy warrants. Heresy! That shouldn’t even be a law! If for no other reason than our Prime would never permit it!

I know I believed in the cause once… and I still believe in our faith, at least to an extent. Optimus Prime, even according to Megatron, was a mech with firm and moral ideals. But the Elite Guard? We are corrupt. This must be addressed as soon as possible. There is no other option. And if you don’t start doing something about it? I will .

I have Megatron’s audial. Or did you forget about that? He trusts me now. He has shown me more kindness than all of the Guard combined and through him I have begun to see things differently.  If I tell him our secrets and our training, I can guarantee you that he will tell Orion. And if Orion knows? There will be the wrath of Unicron banging on the doors of the Citadel. Please know that I don’t blame you for this. I’ve looked at your records. You were just a normal Guardsmech before the war, and from what I gather, you’ve just transferred over what you learned to us. But that doesn’t change the fact that all of this is wrong. 

I apologize for being so antagonistic, but something is wrong in our ranks. I don’t know if it is Alpha Trion’s influence or the mech himself, considering he was never confirmed dead. But I am going to stay here. I don’t care if you pull me back. I’m not going. I’m staying right here with my data until something is done about this. 

I’ll be sending additional reports if I find anything else of note. But the time to act is now. Please, listen to me. If you care at all about what we are meant to stand for, help us become better. You are our Head Elite Guardsmech. You have the power to change things. I implore you, do what you can before it is too late to act and you end up removed from power or wrapped up in it. That is not a threat by the way, that is just the natural outcome of things according to Megatron’s writings.

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[Notes: … None.]