#taking the train is the ultimate green flag

[starboyjun]

batfam as types of isekai romance male leads

in this post: bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, cassandra cain, stephanie brown, and damian wayne

bruce wayne as rudiger winterwald (i will change the genre)

bruce is definitely the cold and "i make misunderstandings for a job" type of male lead. he's the one people in the comments bash or defend for their life. bruce in his past life is the one that the female lead thinks hates them so they die thinking that he won't care but plot twist: he does care... a lot. he's the one to destroy the entire world after their death (regis floyen core) and he's the one who turned back time for her.

dick grayson as isidor visconti (isn't being a wicked woman much better?)

dick grayson is the childhood lover, the one you don't think would be interested in you because of his bright personality. you think he's doing all these things out of pure kindness until after 100+ chapters he likes you. dick grayson is the one to stick by your side and in both lives, was devoted to you.

jason todd as izek van omerta (how to get my husband on my side)

jason todd is the one who unintentionally is cold to you (another idea is he's your killer in your first life) and probably causes your death... unintentionally... maybe. he's the slow burn type of romance where you fix past misunderstandings that have been building up for the past years you've known each other/been together. after a lot of years you've spent together, he's the greenest green flag you've ever met.

tim drake as schdermel raft (my dear aster)

tim drake is the male lead who takes a while to own the reader's hearts lowkey. timmy is a duke that rose to power in the female lead's previous life and is the one that could help her/protect her from her family/problems. timmy is such a sweetheart and i think it'll take a while before romance starts to come in the story (and has reader's asking novel readers who's the male lead).

cassandra cain as dorothea millanair (the tyrant wants to be good)

cassandra cain is the ultimate "i didn't want to be this, my surroundings made me be this." cassandra had a hard childhood because of her father and her "home" similar to many manhwa female leads. cassandra is the type to regret her past life and change for the better. she's not a brainless female lead, she knows a lot of things and will want to change (similar to dorothea).

stephanie brown as athanasia de alger obelia (wmmap)

stephanie is a female lead who is kinda stupid ("why did the plot change" type things) but overall is a strong female lead. she's one to go down in history (like athy). she's one who doesn't need a male lead to back her up and overall chases the plot to chang people's lives. steph is a happy girl and deserves a happy ending.

damian wayne as maximilian kasin ashet (father i dont want to get married)

damian is the one who (unintentionally/intentionally) killed you in your past life. damain grew up as a stuck up brat kid, though he is less of a brat, he's a trained killer for gods sake. damian is one who isn't familiar with love and being gentle. he probably grew up on the battlefield and is labelled "mad dog" or "cold blooded killer" or something along those lines. once you show damian you're not like the other girls afraid of him, he starts to fall... hard.

bonus: alfred pennyworth

the reliable butler of the family who's been serving the family for ages. he's the first one who trusts you and gets to know you on a personal level. he's always there to talk to the waynes and convince them you're a good person.

idk what to do next so lmk lol

[soothinglee]

slow train | tao xu x reader

summary: you see a handsome stranger at the train station, seems like you knew a little more about him than you thought. first feelings are- different. do you like mr. unknown?

warnings: none.

authors note: in this fiction we are pretending like elle and tao are not a thing. we still love them but for the purpose of this we do not. at first i had written half of this and still didn't have a character in mind and then i realized i haven't written for heartstopper. how heartbreaking. also maybe a little out of character, first time writing for this character.

inspiration: the wonderful sebastian crofts song; "slow train to nowhere."

pairing: tao xu x reader (no pronouns specified. though reader is mentioned to go to higgs.)

masterlist | part two

line 141 has got be written down as the slowest train in history. the electronic board above the waiting station said that the train would arrive around 2:47, though when you look at your watch its five minutes till 3 o'clock.

feeling a little antsy, you brush back the fly away, trying to calm down your jittery legs. the crowd around you grows as the seconds pass, all radiating the same aura as you, impatience. one person in particular stands out to you the most, a soft brown knitted vest adorned his white long-sleeve blouse, matched with tan colored trousers. he looked well fit, a handsome young man, and as you continue to watch him it seems as though he's looking right back you.

underneath the cream fluorescent lightening the hue of his cheeks change a flamingo shade, and right when your eyes meet his gaze is adverted. he looks nervous.

"cute." you whisper to no one but yourself, the old lady next to you glances in your direction with a shy smile. hopefully, she did not think you were flirting with her.

taking a quick peek at the man again you can't help but feel fuzzy. you have no clue who he is, nor ever spoken to him but something about him makes you feel-lightheaded. what a concerning reaction. he's intriguing to say the least, the way he too checks his watch as the time finally hits 3, or how his fingers hover over his hair when he goes to brush it but then ultimately brings it to his side. you want to know more. but he is a random stranger waiting for line 141 and who knows how dangerous of a person he could be.

but that doesn't stop you.

right as you muster up that courage to walk his way the faint hiss of the train tracks stop you as a gust of wind tips you backwards. just your luck, the train finally arrived.

in the commotion of everyone trying to make it onto the transport before it leaves you loose sight of stranger. the people blocking your views as you make your way onto the train to find a seat, many people go onto other cars leaving just you and a few others in the cart alone. what a waste.

as you make yourself comfortable you can't help but notice a melodic voice pull you out of your thoughts. it starts with the shoes, then the shirt and finally a young man stands before you, wringing his wrists together in a nervous manner. a timid smile etches its way onto his face and it's one of those where you can't help but smile back.

though remember, stranger danger.

"hello, d'you think i could sit here?" giving him a once over, he looks harmless, thin, lean gentlemen with great hair. really great hair.

your lips form to make a sentence but nothing comes out and suddenly-comically, your mouth is dry. that has to be the most embarrassing reaction because the man laughs. it was quiet but very pleasing to hear.

"i, you, yeah- go right ahead, there's enough room for the both of us." you respond to him with an awkward grin that probably came out more like a grimace then you had hoped for. god, why was it so hard being normal when a cute guy deliberately goes out of his way to talk to you. normally, the red flags would be shaming you but in the comfort of his presence, the tint fades green.

a moment passes between you both, and from the corner of your eye you see a pleased smile rest upon his face. "y'know," he starts and almost immediately you give him your attention. you might've caught him off guard by the forcefulness of it but he doesn't seem too bothered. "I saw you waiting for the train and for whatever reason you caught my eye. I wanted so badly to say something but my nerves got in the way." he laughs again, god that laugh. "I was beating myself up for it, thought that I let you get away, but, when I saw you from the other cart I thought, this is my chance."

you turn your gaze away from him bashfully, "well i'm glad you took it." you utter softly.

his grin grows, "i'm glad too, you seem like a nice person."

"i'd hope so, i was scared that you took me looking at you as intimidation."

he gasps playfully, resting his hand on his chest. "no, never! I hoped that you wouldn't think i was some creep checking you out." he admits faintly, but then is quick to add, "not that i was checking you out! because that's weird, and disrespectful, and- oh my god i'm making this worse." he covers his face with hands, and hunches over, trying to cave in on himself.

a loud bark of a laugh escapes you and cover your mouth with a hand, trying to suppress the giggles. though it's no use, the blush on the mans cheeks grows down towards his neck, his whole upper half is pink.

"don't worry," you reassure, placing a hand on his shoulder, "i didn't take that in a nasty way, you're okay."

the gentlemen takes a deep breath and sits back up, the color subsiding. the look in his eye is indescribable. the fuzzy feeling from earlier returns and it's hard to ignore. are you catching feelings for a guy you don't even know? seems like it.

as the conversation progresses you start to learn more about the man. firstly, his name is tao, and being on a first name bases doesn't classify you as "strangers" anymore, it brings a new-found hope. he lives with his mom, loves flims, hanging out with his friends and goes to an all boys school.

when asked what the name he is hesitant, of course, but gives the name quickly. upon hearing it you gasp;

"I go to Higgs! who knew we were closer than we thought!" at this point you are full on beaming, your whole body and posture screams he has all your attention. he nods his head happily.

for a second he pauses with an eyebrow raised, "do you by chance know a girl named elle? she transferred there last year, friends with tara, darcy, and sahar?"

hearing the names sparks a familiarity and you wiggle in your seat. "how could i not! i sit next to elle in homeroom and eat lunch with all four of them! 'known tara and darcy since gradeschool!"

he laughs loudly at the information, "this is crazy! the four of them are apart of my friend group. what a coincidence."

as you go to speak the lady on the overhead announces that the stop is coming up. tao looks towards the door and sees the next station start to slow down in the window. a pitiful sigh leaves his lips.

"your stop?" you inquire sadly, upset to see him leave. your stop isn't for another ten minutes. the rate this train moves is ridiculous.

tao nods his head slowly, trying to move as slow as possible when getting up, as the train lets out a rhythmical chime- the doors open and the people who once sat around you flood on onto the pathway, "it was really nice to meet you," he says, bringing your attention to him once more. something in his eyes shifts in the way he looks at you and you can't help but feel small under his gaze, in a good way. "i'll make sure to seat you next to me on my wedding day." the words were muttered so quietly that you had to strain to hear him, yet you did, and ghost of a smile hushes you as you watch him exit the train doors, joining the others on the other side.

"see you soon?" you hope, wondering if this would be the last time you would see him even though he's a five minute walk from your school.

his voice is airy and the way he holds himself is sincere. he pauses and then nods your way, "of course."

that was the most enjoyment you had in a long time- sad to say, it was fun until he had got off the train.

[ikemenomegas]

Trick or treat! Happy Halloween Io! I don't know how this works but I'm dressing up as Naruto so please give lots of candy 😁✌

🍬🍫🍭

all the candy anon!! that sounds super cute, how about a naruto shaped treat?! Happy Halloween 🎃

When you went out with Naruto and the rest of the Konoha rookies, you had come armed with a little water bottle in your pillowcase, and the gratitude that each house you came to would be giving you snacks that would keep you going as long as the higher energy members of the crew could.

As the evening wore on, you'd lost your friends, one by one, to the night. Lee, surprisingly, had been the first to bail, citing an extra special Spook Night Run with Guy-sensei. Hinata had left with Neji for some kind of fancy function in a nice restaurant downtown.

And so it had gone. Ino, left to take her turn managing her family's festival booth, Choji and Shikamaru with her to pursue late night eats. Kiba and Shino had dashed off somewhere, bugs either chasing the dog or the other way around, you couldn't quite tell, but it seemed the quietest of your classmates was in high spirits with the fresh chill in the air.

Now, even Sakura was heading home since Itachi had come to fetch Sasuke back before their father's curfew.

"Are you sure you two will be okay?" she asked, as you and Naruto committed to getting a few more handfuls of candy into your bags.

"Sure, Sakura!" Naruto beamed. You nodded, warmed still by Naruto's enthusiasm.

"I'll see you for training tomorrow then, make sure to get some sleep," Sakura said, sounding a little tired as she waved and then turned back in the direction of her home.

Once Sakura had left, Naruto turned to you with a grin that made the whisker marks on his cheeks crinkle up. He rubbed his hands together.

"I guess it's just you and me now. Are you ready for the ultimate test of Halloween courage?"

You blinked at Naruto. "I guess."

Naruto flopped over and then straightened, gripping your shoulders. "You guess??"

"Sure," you smiled, his enthusiasm was bolstering your own flagging energy.

He shook your shoulders. "Come on," he groaned. "You have to have a little enthusiasm to beat the best kept secret obstacle course in Konoha. Kakashi-sensei was telling me about it. Apparently even he's never beat it."

You tilted your head. A training course even Kakashi-sensei hadn't defeated, impossible.

Naruto saw your skepticism and pulled you closer. You felt your chest warm. "And apparently the reward if you get through it? Free bowls at Ichiraku. And there's no limit on how many team members you can bring. It's too bad that there's only two but I think we can take it, right!"

A smile spread across your mouth. "Okay!"

Naruto sighed.

"I mean, yes, of course!"

Naruto cheered. "That right! Let's go."

You stared, nonplussed, and laughed at the dilapidated building on top of a small hill in one of Konoha's many green spaces. "Um... Naruto, are you sure no one's ever beaten it because the requirement is that you don't get tetanus during the obstacle course..."

Naruto looked up at the building, fingers on his chin. He picked up some cardboard kunai from a new looking table sitting beside the gate. Then he pressed his foot down on a patch of dirt. A silhouette sprang from the overgrown brambles and fell back down once Naruto peppered it with a few kunai, which thumped off. Of course, this was a ninja village, it should have a ninja Halloween decorations.

"Take some of these. I think we use the items given to us to get through the course."

You picked up some of the cardboard kunai, they were kind of cute , painted to be sort of cartoonish. "Alright, let's do it."

It was not difficult at first, but as you and Naruto worked your way through the overgrown gardens circling in a maze around the house, and then through the rooms and courtyards, you felt yourself get jumpy, and Naruto was too. There were strange sounds in the undergrowth, tripwires, secret doors, swooping, dusty sheets that fell from the ceiling, and mannequins that toppled from the closet.

It was a masterclass in traps, misdirection, and was truly testing the endurance of you and Naruto. You panted as you used an improvised bo-staff made from a mop handle to knock the fresh pumpkin head off of a scarecrow, and slumped over, your heart beating far too fast.

There was another rustle in the bushes. "Did you hear that?" you whispered to Naruto.

He jumped back to back with you, a set of cardboard spiked knuckles clutched in his fist. "Yeah. What do you think it is? Another paper ghost? Maybe those flaming tea bags again."

The rustling came again, from a direction slightly to the left.

You threw a paper kunai and the rustling stopped, and was now behind you. Naruto punched out at the air.

Then nothing.

You traded a glance with your companion, and then the two of you gradually stepped apart to test to pull on the next sliding door of the creaky house.

There was a crack. You looked around frantically and Naruto crouched, ready to spring. Another crack.

Then a CRASH and a section of the ceiling fell in, along with a screeching, furious ball of fur. A dark colored cat fell clawing among the debris of broken wood.

But it had surprised both you and Naruto and he bumped your shoulder, so you bumped the doorway, and another panel to the left sprang open to reveal a humanoid thing draped in tattered canvas swinging towards you.

You shrieked, and then so did Naruto, jumping into your arms as a second skeletal structure sprang up from the floor and rattled towards you.

Forget the tools.

You picked up Naruto and ran.

The other obstacles seemed to blur before your eyes as you and Naruto simply outran them, tears from the speed of the wind streaming from your eyes.

The two of you crashed through a red-painted door, and screamed again as someone else did the same.

A tall figure with disheveled silver hair was draped in a white cloth with red circles painted on it. One arm was poised to cover his face.

"Kakashi-sensei?" both you and Naruto panted.

You're sensei's voice came as the figure struck a pose, arm lifted. "How did you make it here?"

You and Naruto looked at one another and then back through the door. You could still see a few bristling traps bobbing on springs or dangling on string, their momentum lost.

"I thought you said you'd never beaten this place," Naruto points from your arms, accusing, while you say, "We ran very fast."

Kakashi-sensei readjusts something over his face and when he drops his arm, his mask is back in place. "I don't need to beat it if I make it." His eyes are smiling, and you suddenly feel like you've been tricked into training.

"Even the cat?" Naruto asks.

"No, there aren't any cats," Kakashi says, and then he sighs, in a thunderous way you vaguely remember from the bell test.

"Wait, wait!" Naruto flails, almost smacking you in the eye. "Trick or treat!?"

Kakashi-sensei smiles with his eyes and then deflates and holds up two meal tickets to Naruto's favorite ramen place. "Yes, yes fine."

Naruto cheers, stuffing one into his bag, which had miraculously survived the journey through the house, and yours, which he had with his in his arms.

Kakashi-sensei gave you a knowing look though, and you felt your neck and cheeks heat. It didn't stop you from carrying a chattering Naruto out of the house and back down the hill.

[louievans]

How To Maintain Your Car By Yourself

Car maintenance needs effort and patience. One cannot just buy a car and use it day after day without cleaning it or properly servicing it. Your car also needs passion, care, and love. Hence, as a driver and car owner, you must know the basic rules of maintaining your car and its parts. If you are unable to follow the manual, you can search in the driving school online business directory in the UK and contact registered instructors from there. They will guide you on how to save money and perform some ‘do-it-yourself’ maintenance tips. 

DIY Tips for Your Car Maintenance

You have passed the test, and now the wide road lies in front of you. It's all yours. It's high time you make a note of different dates when your car needs servicing and maintenance. Before you go to the company showroom for full servicing, we suggest some essential maintenance tips. These can be done on your own, and you can avoid any faults from developing. Let's delve into the DIY processes to make it more interesting. 

Check the oil

Checking the oil frequently can help you avoid oil leakage or any kind of issue. You can check via minimum and maximum marking in the dipstick and decide when to fill the oil again. This is very effective and can be easily done at home. There are driving schools in Bradford and other regions in the UK that provide training on how to check your car at regular intervals if you take driving lessons from them. You can ask your instructor to show the prescribed level up to which you can fill the oil. 

Tyre

Have a look at the tyre pressure, as under-inflated tyres can cause the tyres to wear down quickly. It will also result in maximum fuel consumption (up to 5%). Check the inflation every two weeks and get your tyres inflated. However, do not over-inflate it as it might result in negative handling of the car. 

Keep an eye on the windscreen wash and battery

You can consult with instructors from online driving school in the UK and take a note of what they say. Check the windscreen to see if it is topped up during winter. Moreover, keep adequate fluid in the screen washer bottle. You might be penalised if the bottle is found empty on the road. 

As we speak of DIY processes, examining the battery is highly essential. As a driver, you need to know when to change it. Try to change the battery every three years, as a flat battery might cause a breakdown. Since you are checking on your own, know the process properly where the Green Flag says battery failure will turn over the engine slowly, and the red battery light will flicker. 

A Few Tips to Conclude

Taking care of your car must not be daunting for you. Keep the timing flexible, and try checking the parts and tools when you are ready for it. When you are in a hurry, it can ultimately result in improper maintenance. We would suggest checking the horn, brake, wipers, and coolant. Rotate the tyres and adjust them on a regular basis. 

Other complicated checks include spark plugs, light bulbs, and rattling sounds. Your car maintenance lies on you. Use decent car shampoos and clean them with water to make them look brand new every time you take them out.

[ever-go-on]

hi!! absolutely NO fucking pressure whatsoever to answer this i know it’s a very personal question but. what did the (vague) road to professional treatment/acknowledgement of DID look like for you? i’m in a place where i can start therapy soon and i’ve suspected for three years that Something Is Up but i don’t even know what that process would begin to look like

honestly id struggle to articulate my entire journey because of what a mess of dead ends and lost paperwork it is but this has been my journey with my current therapist (long post):

i originally found her going through a directory of trauma-informed psychotherapists in my area. although nothing on her page said anything about dissociation, she specialised in complex PTSD.

this was super lucky for me. DID specialists are incredibly rare, and DID treatment derives from CPTSD treatment, so ultimately your best bet for finding DID treatment in my opinion is a therapist trained in (C)PTSD / a therapist who has experience treating trauma & its associated symptoms.

i thought, fuck it, even if she can't do anything about the alters, maybe she can help me with my attachment issues, emotional dysreg, self esteem issues, flashbacks, etc.

i spoke to her for a preliminary session and she seemed decent enough. no immediate discomfort. always a plus.

always trust your gut. no point having a therapist you don't really trust / like, even if theyre "objectively good". a large part of trauma therapy is building a trusting relationship so you can feel safe in the room. don't be afraid to shop around if that's an option.

a few weeks/months in i finally plucked up the courage to articulate that i had conflicting parts with conflicting personalities and senses of self. she asked me to explain, and i did. it would take a while before i felt comfortable enough to run through them with her, but she was open to what i communicated.

green flag. it's very important that your therapist doesn't make you feel judged.

on the topic of bringing up parts, i would really recommend you use your own words to describe your experiences. "i have DID" could mean absolutely anything: it doesn't tell them what your understanding of DID is, what your specific experiences are, or what symptoms you most struggle with. explain what your experiences and symptoms look like for you in your own words, so they can trust your judgement better and get more information.

a year or so into working with me she began to seek training in treating and understanding dissociative disorders, and offered to (attempt to) refer me to my country's leading dissociative hospital. i did decide i wanted to stick with her, because our tolerance and life-stability work was going quite well, but it would have been an option to put me through some assessments, land on that waiting list, and then see Proper DID Specialists for some rigorous work. i just figured i was happy at the pace i was at.

she actually now has a qualification in treating DID that she uses to understand and treat my symptoms.

this is just because my therapist is a boss. and another reason why not to be intimidated by a therapist who doesn't yet have every specialism you need: they are also people who are learning, and if you're lucky, they will acknowledge the places their knowledge fails and attempt to make it right.

you'll notice i haven't talked about diagnoses yet. this is partially because my diagnostic history is a blurry mess of lost paperwork (including my initial DID dx... grumble grumble), and because while diagnoses can open up the door to specialist psychologists and clinics (and insurance to cover the costs?), there are many therapists who don't need that paperwork, and will just offer you treatment for decent chunks of money.

so that's my insight based on what's worked for me and landed me here. trauma-trained therapists who click with you and are open to learning are the way to go.

shes helped me reduce my depression and anxiety levels significantly, raise my tolerance (so i dont dissociate, switch, or split as much), work on my impulse control, understand and partially overcome my attachment and relationship issues, and in turn i have never been so integrated. i can communicate with and i feel like i really understand the majority of my parts; i have not split an alter in over two years and my numbers are record low because of several fusions that naturally occurred as my life developed and got better. im now finally at a stage where i might be capable of processing trauma.

its a lot and its taken a long time, but it's worth it to me.

ty for the ask anon :)

[animalsmealbuzz]

Why Dogs Like To Roll In The Grass

Let’s talk about our furry companions, the ones who bring endless smiles and curiosity to our lives with their quirky ways. Have you ever observed your pup in the act of performing a joyful somersault on the grass and wondered, “What in the doggone world are they up to?” Fret not, for we’re here to demystify the art of this playful pup pastime and uncover the hidden treasures behind it. Cracking the Case of the Grass-Rolling Mystery: Unveiling the Canine Joie de Vivre Our canine pals are the true champions of unexpected delights, and their penchant for grass-rolling is no exception. Although it may leave us humans raising an eyebrow or two, there’s a method to the madness, and it’s pawsitively logical. Javier Peribanez / Shutterstock 1. The Wild Instinct: A Game of Scent Camouflage Imagine a scene from the ancient wilderness where wild dogs and wolves roamed freely. Research suggests that our modern-day doggos have inherited a quirky habit from their untamed ancestors. By diving into peculiar and fragrant patches of nature, they’re essentially pulling a sneaky trick on their scent. It’s all about survival, my friends! What’s more, dogs converse through a language of scents and pheromones. So, when your pooch takes a roll in the grass, they’re not only masking their own scent but also sending coded messages to fellow canines and critters. 2. The Sensational Journey: A Splash of Feel-Good Vibes Now, sometimes our canine chums take a twirl in the grass simply because it feels oh-so-fantastic. The delightful mix of textures and scents tickles their senses, and it might even release a cascade of those happiness-inducing endorphins. It’s like their version of a spa day, complete with natural cucumber eye masks, no less. And here’s a quirky twist – if your furball is rolling in the grass, they might be using it as a DIY back-scratcher to reach those pesky itchy spots they can’t quite get to, like the back or neck. Grass is the ultimate itch-buster, and our furry friends are in on the secret! 3. Territory Tidbits: Claiming the Green Kingdom When your dog turns into a grass-rolling champ, it can also be their way of saying, “This territory is mine!” By sprinkling their scent across the blades, they’re essentially planting a flag that reads, “No Trespassing – Reserved for Yours Truly.” Dr. Jeff Smith, the veterinary maestro at Danville Family Vet, tells us that dogs love to roll in grass to leave their scent and mark their own little piece of the world. 4. Joyful Frolic and Stress Relief: Let the Good Times Roll Occasionally, dogs embark on a merry roll just for the sheer fun of it. It’s their way of letting loose, kicking up their heels, and celebrating life. Moreover, rolling in the grass can be a stress-busting ritual for our furry pals. Similar to how humans dabble in yoga or meditation to unwind, dogs opt for grassy rolls to release pent-up tension. It’s their way of saying, “Life is grand, and I’m loving every moment!” 5. Pest Purge: Flea and Tick-Be-Gone Adventure Here’s a plot twist – rolling in the grass can be your dog’s way of getting rid of unwanted hitchhikers. Sometimes, they roll to dislodge those pesky fleas, ticks, and other critters that might have clung to their fur. It’s a bit like their DIY pest-control routine, keeping their coat itch-free and critter-resistant. Austin Chaney / Shutterstock Curbing the Roll: Managing the Grassy Escapades While watching your dog roll in the grass can bring joy to your heart, there are times when it’s not the most convenient scenario, especially if you’re dealing with allergies or striving to keep your pup spotless. So, here are a few tricks to help curb the urge: - Redirect the Fun: If you’d rather your dog not engage in grassy frolics, try redirecting their attention to more suitable activities. Engage them in a game of fetch or offer them a fun toy to play with. - A Lesson or Two: Basic obedience training can go a long way in modifying your dog’s behavior. Teach them commands like “leave it” or “stay” to guide them away from rolling when the moment arises. Positive reinforcement in the form of treats or praise is a great way to reinforce good behavior. - Hygiene is Key: Keep your pup well-groomed and give them regular baths to minimize the need for grass-rolling as a cleanliness ritual. - Seek Professional Advice: If your dog’s rolling tendencies become excessive, it might be a good idea to consult a veterinarian. They can evaluate your dog’s overall health and offer guidance on addressing any underlying medical issues. Javier Peribanez / Shutterstock In a nutshell, the sight of your dog in the midst of a grassy twirl is a delightful reminder of their unique instincts and their heartwarming personalities. So, even if we don’t fully understand the “whys” behind their antics, one thing is for certain – our furry companions will always find ways to keep us entertained with their charming quirks. Read the full article

[acarelogistic]

Revolutionizing Transportation: The Acare Logistics Fleet Management Advantage

In the dynamic world of logistics and transportation, staying ahead of the curve requires more than just vehicles on the road—it demands precision, efficiency, and a strategic approach. This is where Acare Logistics steps in. As a leading fleet management service provider, we are dedicated to transforming your fleet operations, ensuring they are streamlined, cost-effective, and environmentally conscious.

The Acare Advantage: Elevating Fleet Management

1. Cutting-Edge Telematics and Tracking

With Acare Logistics, every vehicle in your fleet becomes a beacon of efficiency. Our state-of-the-art telematics system allows for real-time tracking, providing you with precise location data, speed information, and route optimization. This not only enhances security but also empowers you to make informed decisions for your fleet.

2. Proactive Maintenance Solutions

Prevention is key, and at Acare Logistics, we take it seriously. Our maintenance management system is designed to keep your vehicles on the road and out of the repair shop. By scheduling and tracking routine maintenance tasks, we extend the lifespan of your vehicles and minimize unexpected downtime.

3. Fuel Efficiency: A Green Approach

Fuel expenses can weigh heavily on any fleet's budget. With Acare Logistics, we help you take control. Our advanced tools monitor fuel consumption, identify inefficient driving practices, and suggest strategies to reduce fuel expenses. It's not just about saving money; it's about minimizing your environmental footprint.

4. Safety First: Driver Behavior Monitoring

Safety is paramount, and we prioritize it at Acare Logistics. Our systems monitor driver behavior, flagging issues such as speeding, harsh braking, and rapid acceleration. This information allows for targeted coaching and training, promoting a safer driving environment for everyone on the road.

5. Compliance Made Simple

Navigating regulatory requirements can be a challenge, but with Acare Logistics, you're never alone. We keep you in compliance with industry regulations, from driver hours of service to vehicle inspections, ensuring that your operation meets all legal obligations.

6. Maximizing Asset Utilization

Understanding how your vehicles are used is crucial for efficient fleet management. Acare Logistics leverages data analytics to assess asset utilization, empowering you to make informed decisions about fleet size, allocation, and deployment.

The Acare Logistics Impact: A Better Bottom Line

1. Cost Efficiency

By optimizing routes, managing maintenance, and monitoring fuel consumption, Acare Logistics significantly reduces operational costs. This leads to improved profitability for your business, allowing you to reinvest in growth and innovation.

2. Safety and Security

Our comprehensive approach to safety ensures a secure working environment for your drivers and a reduced risk of accidents. With Acare Logistics, you can have peace of mind knowing that your fleet is in capable hands.

3. Operational Excellence

Streamlining operations through better route planning, maintenance scheduling, and asset utilization leads to improved overall efficiency. This means you can serve more customers in less time, ultimately gaining a competitive edge in the market.

4. Data-Driven Insights

Acare Logistics provides you with invaluable data and insights to drive your business forward. From purchasing new vehicles to optimizing routes, our data-driven approach ensures that every decision is backed by solid information.

5. Eco-Friendly Solutions

Efficient operations and optimized routes lead to reduced fuel consumption and emissions, contributing to a more sustainable and environmentally-friendly operation. With Acare Logistics, you're not just managing a fleet; you're contributing to a greener future.

Choose Acare Logistics: Where Efficiency Meets Excellence

When it comes to choosing a fleet management service provider, experience matters. Acare Logistics boasts a track record of success, a suite of cutting-edge technologies, dedicated customer support, and competitive pricing. We're not just a service provider; we're your partner in success.

In conclusion, Acare Logistics is more than a fleet management service provider—we're a catalyst for your business's growth and success. Through our innovative solutions and unwavering commitment to excellence, we are revolutionizing the transportation industry, one fleet at a time. Join us on this journey towards a more efficient, cost-effective, and sustainable future for your fleet operations.

[sikikimdarjeelingtourism]

Unveiling the Hidden Gems: Explore Darjeeling & Kalimpong with the Ultimate Tour Package

Introduction

Darjeeling and Kalimpong, nestled in the Eastern Himalayas, offer breathtaking landscapes, rich cultural heritage, and an unforgettable experience for travelers seeking off-the-beaten-path destinations. With our darjeeling kalimpong tour package cost Ultimate Tour Package, you can uncover the hidden gems of these two enchanting towns and embark on a journey that will leave you awe-inspired. Get ready for an adventure like no other as we take you through the highlights of exploring Darjeeling and Kalimpong.

Darjeeling: A Window to the Majestic Himalayas

Witness the Sunrise at Tiger Hill

Wake up early and make your way to Tiger Hill to witness a mesmerizing sunrise over the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. As the first rays of the sun paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, you'll be captivated by the panoramic views of Mount Everest, Kanchenjunga, and other towering peaks. This awe-inspiring sight is a perfect start to your Darjeeling adventure.

Explore the Delightful Tea Gardens

Darjeeling is renowned for its world-famous tea, and no visit would be complete without exploring the lush tea gardens that blanket the hillsides. Lose yourself amidst the undulating rows of emerald-green tea bushes as you learn about the intricate process of tea production. Don't forget to sample some of the finest Darjeeling tea, known for its delicate flavors and distinctive aroma.

Discover the Colonial Charm of Darjeeling Town

Stroll through the quaint streets of Darjeeling town, where echoes of its colonial past still linger. Admire the charming Victorian architecture of buildings like the iconic Darjeeling Railway Station and the Governor's House. Immerse yourself in the vibrant atmosphere as you peruse the bustling local markets, filled with an array of handicrafts, woolen garments, and traditional Tibetan artifacts.

Take a Ride on the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway

Embark on a nostalgic journey aboard the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, often referred to as the "Toy Train." This UNESCO World Heritage Site offers a unique opportunity to traverse the picturesque landscapes and steep gradients of Darjeeling. Lean back in the charming vintage carriages as the train chugs its way through mist-covered valleys, offering breathtaking views of tea estates, waterfalls, and charming hillside villages.

Kalimpong: A Cultural Tapestry in the Himalayan Foothills

Immerse Yourself in Buddhist Spirituality

Kalimpong is known for its vibrant Buddhist culture, and a visit to the monasteries is a must. Start with a visit to Zang Dhok Palri Phodang, a magnificent monastery perched atop Durpin Hill. Marvel at the intricate Tibetan architecture, adorned with vibrant prayer flags fluttering in the wind. Take in the peaceful ambiance as you engage in meditation and gain profound insights into Buddhism.

Explore the Exotic Flower Nurseries

Kalimpong is famous for its exotic flower nurseries, providing a delightful feast for the senses. Visit the renowned Pine View Nursery and immerse yourself in a symphony of colors and fragrances. Marvel at the rare and exotic orchids, rhododendrons, and other floral varieties that thrive in the region's favorable climate. Don't miss the opportunity to bring home a piece of this natural beauty by purchasing some vibrant blooms or seeds.

Wander Through the Quaint Bazaar

Take a leisurely stroll through the bustling streets of Kalimpong's lively bazaar, where the essence of the town comes alive. Experience the fusion of cultures as you browse through an array of traditional artifacts, handicrafts, and locally produced goods. Engage in friendly banter with local vendors and sample delectable Himalayan delicacies, such as momos and thukpa, in the vibrant local eateries.

Discover Offbeat Treasures

Kalimpong is a gateway to hidden treasures that lie off the beaten path. Explore the idyllic Neora Valley National Park, a haven for nature enthusiasts. Trek through its verdant forests, encounter diverse wildlife, and marvel at the cascading waterfalls that punctuate the landscape. Indulge in adrenaline-pumping activities like river rafting and paragliding, or simply soak in the unparalleled serenity of this unexplored gem.

Embark on a Journey like Never Before

With our Ultimate darjeeling tour package cost , you can embark on a journey that blends adventure, culture, and natural beauty, uncovering the hidden gems of Darjeeling and Kalimpong. From witnessing the majestic sunrise at Tiger Hill to immersing yourself in the vibrant bazaar of Kalimpong, every moment will leave you with memories to cherish for a lifetime. Get ready to explore these enchanting Himalayan destinations and experience the allure of the unknown. The hidden gems await!

[lazyliars]

The Quackity Meta: a Tale of Two Absolutes

More than anything else, Quackity wants control, and to never, ever lose his own autonomy. And that is why he despises Technoblade.

But wait, how is Technoblade a threat to Quackity's autonomy? Techno is all for individual freedom! He wants to eradicate the government so that no one can be controlled!

There's the question though... How do people exercise control within the framework of a video game like m/inec/raft?

“a person exercising power or control in a cruel, unreasonable, or arbitrary way.”

Power on the Dream SMP cannot be translated one-to-one with real  life power. In real life, yes, a government had infinitely more power than an individual, for numerous reasons. But on the Dream SMP, the government's power is always directly tied to the power of the individuals who are willing to defend that power.

Technoblade is powerful. This is not debatable. How he uses this power, historically, has been a mix of generosity and self-interest*, although primarily the latter.

Generously, He gains resources and then distributes them to his allies during the Pogtopia Rebellion, gearing everyone up and giving them a fighting chance against Dream. However, in the aftermath of Tubbo's being appointed president, Techno turns on them, swiftly and mercilessly. The moment that it becomes clear** that Pogtopia's interests don't align with his own, he crushes them with the aim to prevent them from ever recovering.

( *I use self-interest as a neutral term here. Everyone on the SMP is selfish to some extent – it doesn't make them evil, and in fact has been treated as a positive at times, as well as a negative.

**I want to note that whether or not Technoblade knew of Pogtopia's goal of reinstating the government is unclear. It would seem that from Techno's POV that he didn't know, or assumed that it was a minority who wanted another government. But on the other hand, no one was actively lying to him about their intent, and people like Tommy and Quackity made their goals very clear.  Further doubt is cast on the idea that Techno had no idea when you take into account that he enchanted the Netherite armor in the vault with worthless enchants like Fire Res.

Ultimately, there's no way to know until it is confirmed by cc!Techno himself, and it doesn't pertain that much to this analysis, but I'm aware that it's a hotly debated topic so I wanted to address it.)

It can be argued that Techno's destruction of L'manberg, both the first and especially the second time, was necessary. It can also be argued that it was cruel and a disproportionate retribution against both culpable and innocent parties. Extant of these arguments however, how does it feature into control?

Well, we can’t talk about control without mentioning the most controlling force on the server and the other person on Quackity's hitlist, Dream.

Dream is a tyrant. I don't think anyone can really make an argument against that in good faith at this point. He ticks off every box, no matter how vague or esoteric. This makes the interactions that Quackity and Techno have with him very interesting.

Quackity despises Dream. He's one of the earliest adopters of the hating-Dream-train, to the point that some people have compared him to Cassandra, a priestess who was cursed with the vision of prophecies that would always be true, but never believed. And indeed, Quackity's apprehension of Dream comes in as early as Pogtopia, and grows at a steady pace after the fact.

But despite his rightfully calling out Dream's hypocrisies and his controlling tendencies, Quackity was largely ignored on this front, especially when the time came to exile Tommy and Quackity basically predicted the next arc – If they gave Dream this concession, they would never be able to get out from under his thumb. Flash forwards to the Green Festival, and the moment Tubbo hands over the discs, any illusion of nicety drops and Dream proceeds to destroy them, side by side with...

Technoblade has always had an amiable relationship with Dream. From their first proper interaction on the server being Dream giving Techno some hefty resources, to their snap team-up on Doomsday, they've had a smooth time, with some notable bumps.

Techno fought against Dream during the Pogtopia rebellion, but when it became clear that Dream was more invested in chaos than his other allies, Techno temporarily allied with him to summon the Withers and drive the nail deeper into Manberg’s coffin.

The only time Techno has really bothered to challenge Dream directly is when he came for Tommy in exile. Techno went to great lengths to protect Tommy, hiding him and distracting Dream.

He did give Dream the option to call in his favor and take Tommy, but there are arguments to be made that he did this more as a challenge – that Tommy is worth the favor. Again, we probably wont ever know.

The difference in their relationships with Dream is polarizing. It also reflects the difference in personality – Quackity is an aggressive, ambitious person, whereas Techno leans more towards passivity and caution. Quackity is looking for enemies to challenge, where Techno is avoiding them, people who actually stand a chance against him most of all.

Technoblade is an individual with extraordinary amounts of power. Others have pointed out that he is rarely challenged by other characters or the narrative, and regardless of the merits or flaws in that, it paints him as nearly untouchable. His being in the good graces of Dream only adds to this.

And like with Dream, the only way that people have been able to threaten Techno is when they work together. The Butcher Army, for all it's flaws, managed to capture Techno through numbers – with Tubbo and Fundy (barely) holding off Techno's blood rage while Quackity snuck off to take Carl hostage. And they would have gotten away with it too, if the other most powerful person on the server hadn't stepped in – both by pointing Techno to a totem of undying in the days before the attack, and by getting Punz to cause a distraction and directing Techno to the final control room, where he could escape with Carl.

So, if the most powerful person in the world can only be threatened by people working together, and the most common form of organization is by government, then what does it say about Technoblade, who wants the government destroyed?

People like Tubbo, Fundy and yes, Quackity, all benefit from organizing and working together. They all tend to be less armed, less ready to defend themselves, and completely unable to stand up to titans like Techno and Dream on their own. It's safety in numbers, but it's also control, and control is power.

Ranboo's insistence that Snowchester is a Government is interesting when viewed through this lens. Ranboo is another person who is insanely rich, and able to defend himself and his belongings consistently. Ranboo doesn't need other people to defend him – he's living with Techno and Phil not out of necessity for his survival, but out of need for connection with others.

This seems to be the main difference he finds with Snowchester, which has a more structured environment, geared to defend itself and it's people, if harm should come their way.

Which makes sense, considering it's founder, Tubbo, holds no earthly belongings, and Jack, another prominent member, has made a character trait out of losing his things every other day. The two of them have no conceivable way to defend themselves against people who are stronger than they are. But together, holding the keys to nuclear armaments, they can suddenly play on the field of gods.

The anarchist commune, despite having all members working together and being on good terms, aren't really an organization, they're individuals with common goals and interests. They don't need to live together to be strong, they're all already strong, they choose to be near each other because they want to.

Snowchester is not a government and has no ruler, but together, it's members hold power. They have sway in the world when they work as a collective, and most members have a vested interest in keeping themselves and each other defended because of this. Consequently, the “identity” of Snowchester becomes more prominent, resulting in the flag, the uniforms and the, well, identity.

(Now, the more perceptive among you might have noticed that I basically just compared Techno Phil and Ranboo to the ultra rich 1%, which. Um. Is a pretty serious comparison to make about in a block game rp?

And I wanna say that I don’t think this was necessarily intentional on the parts of either the CCs or the characters, and beyond that, it’s just one way of examining the text. This analysis is by no means the “Right” way to view the story, just a different one.

Regardless...)

Techno uses his considerable power to further his own goals, first and foremost. This is not inherently good or evil, it just is.

Contrast with New L'manberg's cabinet; Four people, pooling their limited power to further their shared goals. Not good or evil, just a way of exercising power.

But power is not static. Power is fluid and changing, moreso now on the SMP than ever before, and Quackity and Technoblade are fighting to define what Power means going forwards.

Techno is fighting for the status quo, knowingly or not. Individuals with power should lead the world, and those without should strive to emulate their betters. He destroys all forms of government, which strip away the rights of the individual in exchange for hierarchy and consolidated power within that hierarchy.

At it's best, this is a very freeing ideology, where nothing and no one can hold back the individual. The world is your oyster if you are willing to work for it.

But at it's worst? “Violence is the only universal language,” is the key phrase. Where does this ideology leave people who aren't strong? Where does it leave those who cannot fend for themselves? If Violence is the only universal language, then the weak have no means to speak.

Quackity is fighting to get a foothold for a contrary ideology – One that prioritizes words over violence and offers alternative methods of gaining and exercising control, such as through currency and conversation. Quackity has tried to varying degrees of success to implement this on the level of his own individual power, such as during the elections, but his attempts at employing this on a grand scale have all been short-lived.

At it's best, this ideology can uplift anyone, regardless of their strength. It encourages more communication, more commerce, and thrives under, you guessed it, strong government.

At it's worst however, it creates a brutally controlling environment. Where a few people gain absurd amounts of power through the complex machinations of a fiat currency, and are then able to use their sway and influence with governing forces to exercise power that they would never be able to hold on their own.

Again, neither of these ideologies are inherently good or evil. They both have flaws and benefits, and benefit no one more than perhaps Techno and Quackity respectively, while hindering the other.

Techno is benefited by anarchy because he holds incredible amounts of individual power. He is the strongest person on the server, he is rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams, and on a meta level, he's straight up good at the game. The current status quo puts him firmly at the top of the food chain, and this is most obvious on Doomsday, when he and the other two most powerful individuals (Dream and Philza) come together and crush the combined forces of New L'manberg. They are not meaningfully challenged in any way, whatsoever.

Meanwhile, Quackity is deeply hindered by the current status quo. He's not strong, he's poor, and he's vulnerable to anyone who wants to bully him with brute force. On a meta level, cc!Quackity just straight up does not play m/inecraf/t as much as some of the other people that on the server. (To be clear, I do not mention that as a criticism, just to contrast Techno. Neither of their levels of play are better or worse for content, they just add to the experience differently.)

On the other hand, in a government? Quackity “Law Student” HQ is suddenly on top. He's charismatic enough to debate with Wilbur “Can Talk His Way out of Anything” Soot during the elections, and come out of that arena smelling like roses. Back during the days of El Rapids, Quackity held his men back from conflict with Dream, and talked him into a corner of technical truths where Dream had to concede that he viewed El Rapids as an independent nation if he wanted to get involved with their conflicts.

And Techno, while he is brilliant and an English Major, suddenly loses a lot of his intimidation factor if he has to respect laws preventing brutal murder. Techno can certainly debate, but his go to conflict resolution is usually violence, and if you take that away, you take away the threat of challenging him. Because make no mistake, challenging Technoblade right now? Is suicide.

And this duality, this grey morality and clash of ideals, is why Quackity is my favorite character on the SMP. He isn't strong. The power he holds is tenuous and balanced on a knife's edge. It would make more sense for him to stay quiet, keep his head down, and if anything, try to change things from the shadows, where he'll be in the least danger.

But he isn't quiet. He doesn't just challenge authority, he challenges the authority; Dream, Wilbur, and of course, Technoblade.

And in all but one of those matches, he's come out with a concession from his enemy gripped between his teeth. He schooled Wilbur in the debates. He forced Dream to grant El Rapids Independence at a time when he hadn't done so for New L'manberg.

But he failed miserably when he challenged Technoblade. Quackity lost that fight in the final control room before it began. He lost the moment he formed the Butcher Army. He would have lost if he managed to kill Technoblade, and he lost still when he died.

He lost because he conceded that the only way to achieve his goal was through violence. He decided that the only way to establish himself and New L'manberg as powerful? Was to kill Technoblade. And he lost that fight and he always will. There was never a way that he walked out of that fight with the victory; Quackity lost the ideological battle long ago.

But not the war.

As of writing this, Quackity is in the process of introducing an economy to the Dream SMP, on Sam's initiative. There is no action I can think of that is wiser for him to take right now. Now, when Dream has been deposed and there's a vacuum in power; Now, when people are getting tired of endless violence and the loss it brings; Now, when people are looking for something new.

An economy is a direct challenge to Might Makes Right. Trading, supply and demand, politics. It offers a new way for people to obtain resources and a direct alternative to brute force; other methods to pay for slights and breaches of honor and etiquette. No more will pet wars be fought with iron swords and shields, but with money! A healthy sum of cash for the murder of Fungi!

If Quackity can get this system off the ground (and with Sam's help, he definitely can,) the stage would suddenly be tilted in the favor of not just Quackity, but the people who he has associated himself with most closely – Tommy, Fundy, even Schlatt. They're all business men, all scammers. This could be Quackity's world, and he's damn well intending for everyone to live in it.

We’ll have to see what Techno thinks of this - Quackity hasn’t made any moves to start another government, and an economy doesn’t inherently contradict anarchy. But it does hold a potential threat to Techno’s current power.

And as for Quackity? What will he do once he’s at the top? Will he finally become a true tyrant? Will he usher in a new age of equality and justice? Or will he eschew all of that in favor of personal riches. For once, the cards are in Quackity's favor, and we might get the chance to see what he does when he holds real power.

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[maribatshipper]

Miraculous 39 Clues

Lillian glares with her dark eyes at the picture of the Ladybug-themed heroine. The heroine was lying on the ground with her arm twisted into an unnatural shape after a fight with one of these akumas. Lillian picks up her phone & calls a cousin of hers.

"Dan, I'm going to Paris. I need to speak to Stone." Lillian growls.

Dan asks, "Why? What's wrong with him?"

Lillian frowns, "Not what's wrong with him, what's wrong with the city he lives in. Check a site called the Ladyblog. You'll see why. I have to look out for my fellow Janus."

Lillian hangs up as she buys a ticket to Paris, running her hair through her burnt amber hair.

***

"STONE!"

Jagged Stone winces. He's always known about his heritage & everything that went on. He preferred the love he got from people when they heard his music compared to the backstabbers he called his family & their obsession with the clues.

"Lily, what are you doing here? In Paris?" Jagged asks, his pale-green eyes hidden by some glasses with 2 Eiffel towers & Paris' flag incorporated into it.

"Why didn't you tell the Cahill's about the situation in Paris? Those of us who are good could have done something to help the heroes of this city. They clearly need all the help they can get, & who better to help than an entire family of spies, inventors, artists, & jocks?" Lillian glares at the much older man.

Jagged sighs, "The Lucians have a base here & said nothing. You've seen the reports, Lillian. The heroes are just kids. I was turned into a rockin' villain. What was I supposed to do? Call the entire family over to get us all akumatised when they find out what's going on?"

Lillian glares, "No, you're supposed to warn us about Paris & about keeping emotions in check! The Lucians here are fools for not bringing this to our attention! Our branch is supposed to share information with the rest of our branch! This is something that has to be taken to the head of our family! This Hawk Moth character could be a rogue Cahill, or a Vesper! If this guy is a Vesper, our whole family needs to be warned about him! No matter how much we hate each other, we don't leave other Cahill's to deal with Vespers. What if he's like Peirce? What then, Stone?"

Jagged sighs, "You're right. I haven't been thinking clearly. So un-rock'n'roll of me. But this isn't something that can be fixed with the master serum. Cahill's can't face against the power of these jewels called Miraculous. Even with that serum. These Miraculous are more powerful than anything, & they should be kept out of our family's greedy hands."

Lillian frowns, "But we could help. We've had exper-"

Jagged whirls around, "Not with this! We've never had any experience with this! This is dangerous, Lily! No matter how genuine our talents, we can't help them against this! I know it's un-rock'n'roll, but that's what it is, Lillian!"

A knock comes from the door. Jagged breathes a few times & opens the door to see a familiar face. Jagged's face stretches into a giant grin.

"Marinette! There's my Rockin' designer! Whatcha got for me this time?" Jagged asks.

Marinette smiles, "Well, I designed you some new glasses, because the ones you have right now are starting to fall apart, since I didn't really have the best materials when I started that, but these new ones should last at least for a few years, & I have a small-scale of that poster you asked me to do, & I need to just adjust your outfit for your show tomorrow. Oh, I also have some stuff for Fang. It's all in my backpack."

Lillian walks up to Marinette & studies her, a suspicious glint in her eyes.

"Who's this, Stone?" Lillian asks, not taking her eyes off of the teen.

Jagged smiles, "Lily, this is my best designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette, this is a relative of mine, Lillian."

Marinette smiles & holds her hand out to shake with Lillian's, only to fall when her backpack bursts from being overfilled. Lillian's eyes widen as Marinette collides with the ground. She crouches down to help Marinette pick the stuff up, only to catch her eye on an open design book. She picks up the design book. Her eyes widen at every design. Marinette panics as she sees this & grabs the design book quickly.

"I'm so sorry. I'm madly clumsy. Those are just rough sketches-"

Lillian smirks, "Rough sketches? If those are rough sketches, the finished product must be good enough to go to heaven, Dupain-Cheng."

Jagged stares at Lillian in shock. She is harsh, cold, & not one you'd expect compliments from, even if she is a Janus.

"Stone, I need to talk to you." Lillian grabs Jagged's arm & drags him away from the confused blue-eyed teenager.

"What is it?" Jagged asks, rubbing his sore arm where Lillian's nails were digging into his skin.

Lillian frowns, "She's got the skill of a Cahill with the Janus serum. Does she know anything about the Cahills?"

Jagged shakes his head, "Not a thing. Her mother is most likely a Tomas from China, even though she is small. I saw her in action when Penny was akumatised. Her father is a French baker, & she designs clothes, posters, glasses, she could design a coat for Fang if she wanted to."

Lillian holds a dark coloured hair between her fingers & smirks, "Let's see if she is a Cahill."

Jagged gapes, "How did you get that?"

Lillian laughs, "Stone, I'm a Janus who's been taught at each of our branches bases & in each art. Canada, Hollywood, Venice, any base there was, I've been there. I've done what our ancestors did. We test this. If it comes back positive, we train her in the Janus ways. If not, you don't have to worry about anything."

***

Marinette was confused when this strange teenager who was somewhat older than her dragged her favourite singer away with such authority.

"What was that, Tikki?" She whispers to her little purse attached to her hip.

The quiet being in her purse answers, "I don't know Marinette. She radiates an artists' soul, but she seems so..."

Marinette offers, "Standoffish?"

Tikki chuckles, "Yeah, but there's something more to her than that."

The two older artists come back, Jagged cowering slightly when Lillian looks towards him. Tikki stays hidden in the purse.

"Do I wanna know what that was?" Marinette asks.

Jagged laughs, "It wasn't really anything Rock'n'roll to talk about."

Lillian nods, keeping an eye on the teen.

"So, Marinette, what are your interests?" Lillian asks.

Marinette smiles, "Well, I'm really into fashion, I even design & sew my own clothes. I'm really good at video games, especially Ultimate Mecha Strike 3. Then of course there is music, I mean, I listen to Jagged's music all the time while I'm sketching out designs, his music inspires me! Unlike XY. Bleh! I even designed the costumes for Kitty Section, & I've made so many different outfits, & I'm starting my own website, but I really don't know if it's a great idea with so much stress at school, & akumas, & of course I'm class representative for my class."

Lillian smirks, "I think I'll visit your school, kid. See how well you do in a place like that."

Marinette panics, "It's really no biggie, I just have a lot on my plate."

Lillian smiles, "Either way, I'll be visiting. I gotta go to my apartment. Remember, Stone. I will be telling."

Jagged nods, confusing Marinette.

"Am I missing something here?" Marinette asks.

Lillian smiles, "Nothing to worry about, kid. See you at your school, Dupain-Cheng."

Lillian walks away with a dangerous looking smile on, which scares Marinette slightly.

Marinette suddenly asks, "Does she even know which school I go to?"

***

Lillian checks the test results of the hair she plucked from Marinette's head earlier. Lillian calls Jagged.

Jagged sighs, "Well?"

"It's a match. She's Janus alright. But she's also Lucian & Tomas. Test result says 5% Lucian, 5% Tomas, & 90% Janus." Lillian smiles.

Jagged sighs, "Check her classmates & parents too."

***

A month has passed, & Lillian gathered as much information about the Dupain-Chengs as she could. Marinette's mother, Sabine, is the Cahill with genes. The father, Tom, is a Tomas, which Lillian thought was funny. The only issue? Neither parent knew that they were part of a giant family spreading all across the world. Marinette's grandmother Gina seemed to at least know something of the Cahill name.

Lillian sighs, "I can't believe they don't know a thing about us."

She looks at her research notes on the classmates. All of them have tiny bits of Cahill DNA except Cesaire and Bourgeois. When she visited with Marinette that one day, the kids seemed sweet, but Lillian's a Janus. She can tell when someone's acting. There was one that was acting the most. Her acting was spot on, except for one small issue. She couldn't keep her stories straight.

"Well, miss Rossi, you are about to get a few dozen lawsuits delivered right to your school in the middle of your class. You shouldn't have messed with Marinette. You mess with a Janus, you mess with a powerful enemy. Now to get the kid trained like a Janus."

***

Lillian shows up to Marinette's school again & points out a flaw in one of Lila's stories. She then walks to the bathroom, where she has laid a trap for the fox.

"Hello. Lillian, right?" Lila fakely smiles.

"& you must be Splenda." Lillian smirks.

Lila asks, "What?"

Lillian explains, "Artificially Sweet. Like Splenda. Fake sugar. Drop the act, I can smell the Lucian on you!"

Lila actually seems surprised, & asks, "What's a Lucian?"

Lillian looks through Lila for any sign of deception, but she sees that Lila actually has no idea what she's talking about.

"Of course. That makes this so much easier. Keep away from Marinette, or I can guarantee all your fame will disappear."

Lila drops her Façade & smirks, "How could you possibly do that? Everyone here can't resist when they hear what they want to hear. There's nothing you can do about it anyway. You don't want to be my friend, fine, but I'll make sure no one here wants to be your friend at all. You're a little less dumb than the others, so I'll give you one chance. You're either with me, or against me. You only have until the end of class to decide, Lillian."

Lillian giggles, then full out laughs.

"Oh you poor, delusional soul! I don't want to be friends with anyone here except Marinette! & thanks for saying that. Now I have all the proof I need!" Lillian smirks.

Lila asks, "What do you mean?"

Lillian smirks, "You'll find out."

***

Months passed, & Lila's entire empire toppled once lawsuits were coming to her in public for defamation & slander, & Lila was also sued for abuse. Marinette got paparazzi swamping her, asking about how long Lila had threatened her, but Lillian kept Marinette away from the Paparazzi with practiced ease. Marinette had found out how she was related to many important people. Lillian trained her, causing Ladybug to defeat villains much quicker, & Cat Noir stopped showing, not that it bothered her. Cat Noir stopped even helping, acting childish every time Ladybug denied his feelings. Ladybug decided to pick a new hero, a new fox. The new fox made everything easier on Ladybug, & even stole Cat Noir's ring & gave it to Ladybug after his first week.

Ladybug smiles, "You ready for patrol, Corsac?"

The new Fox smiles, his red hair with white tips blowing in the wind. He was also a Janus, which is why Ladybug chose him for the fox. One needs a really good artistic mind to use the fox power.

Corsac's blue eyes widen in happiness.

(I couldn't find one with white tips. Imagine they're white.)

"Of course, Ladybug."

A/N: While reading Miraculous Salt fics, I suddenly had the thought, “What if the 39 Clues universe was part of the Miraculous Universe?” And this came to life with a prompt. I can’t remember the prompt, but I’m happy with how this came out. 

Okay... so... I ran out of really cool fox names, so I actually googled Fox species, and there was only 2 cool sounding ones. Culpeo and Corsac. Can anyone guess who Corsac is?

[gamelpar]

A Second Chance

Red Team origin story.

Jerome never stopped fighting; he just chose to fight for something else.

Characters: Douglas-042, Jerome-092, Alice-130, unnamed Spartan-II trainees, Dr. Haley (mentioned), Chief Mendez (mentioned)

Warnings: a little angsty i guess, death (minor unnamed characters), guilt, sorrow, suffering, my writing at its finest

a fanfic for my lovely Red Team babies and anyone else in the Halo fandom who adores them as much as me. they truly do not have the amount of content they deserve.

edit: read it on ao3

______

A few years had gone since Jerome woke up in an unfamiliar bed in an unknown facility on a planet called Reach, and a woman---Dr. Halsey---had gathered him and a big bunch of other kids his age in a room and told them that they were to become the protectors of humanity and Earth and all her colonies. Him and 74 other candidates  were to be trained to become soldiers of the UNSC.

He’d resisted. Others had as well. Some tried to escape. Jerome tried to escape many times despite knowing Mendez and the other DIs would always be waiting for him, always using more physical force and different tactics to throw him off from attempting again each time. He refused to be intimidated, though, and there were recurring instances where his violence towards the DIs that tried to stop him exceeded way past the limits that other trainees generally didn’t dare attempt to reach. He’d managed to even send a few to the infirmary with injuries that required immediate medical attention. He swore to himself that he would never stop fighting.

However, he eventually came to accept this new life, this new responsibility that was put on him. There were people---Dr. Halsey foremost---who held faith in him. Who believed he was capable of so much more, and what if he was? He didn’t stop fighting, no---he just chose to fight for something else, and in the last months he’d risen quickly among the top candidates.

In the absence of his real family back on Minister, he’d become close and forged a friendship with some of the other trainees, and eventually they became a team---something like family---most of them no longer remembered the family they’d originally come from. They became Red Team, with Jerome as team leader.

------

During a game of Capture the Flag, Jerome and his team faced off against another team in which a certain trainee, Douglas-042, was a member of.

During one of the rounds he’d advanced for Jerome but Jerome had evaded his blows and moves and beaten him, and advancing further Red Team ultimately won the game. The anger that he’d seen blazing in 042’s eyes was something he would never forget. The anger was familiar. He’d felt that same anger himself. It is still there, seething around inside him but he has control over it. Something that 042 yet had seemed to master.

Jerome had watched him sometime afterwards, and it quickly came clear that it was a serious issue of 042 that he struggled to fix and control, and was often berated by Mendez and the other DIs for it.

You have to learn how to control it, Jerome told him once during lunch, after Douglas’ and his team lost another game. It was the first words he said to him. You need to adapt sooner or later. Like I did.

-------

Jerome-092 remembered pain---unexplainable pain, and crying and screaming as his limbs thrashed around and he tried to move, tried to escape. And then nothing.

He woke up high on painkillers; mind fuzzy, body throbbing with pain, skin dry and cold, insides burning like a blazing fire. He couldn’t breathe. Soon there were doctors and nurses all around him.

Washout. That was what they had called him. You have been washed out of the program.

You failed.

They told him his body had rejected the augmentation procedures but that he was lucky. He survived.

Many others didn’t. Jerome was the only member of his team who’d survived. His friends---people he’d known as family---were dead. Their deaths, slow and painful.

Gone.

A knife twisted its way into his heart and he felt broken.

They told him the procedures had crippled him but that he was lucky.

There were others who’d been crippled in worse ways than he had. Those who barely looked human anymore. The knife twisted deeper and waves of guilt, sorrow, anger---emotions Jerome couldn’t distinguish---hit him on and on.

33 survivors fit for duty. 30 dead. 12 crippled, Jerome included, and it all left him with a great sense of failure, guilt of a survivor, a soul and body shattered and wasted.

He’d accepted the new turn of events of being raised and trained as a soldier. He never imagined that something inevitable would happen to render him unfit for that purpose after fully committing his life to it.

He went into rehabilitation and a few weeks went by which were spent performing different types of exercises, scheduled for several medical appointments, undergoing therapy sessions and more, all as part of a scheme created to help him recover from the failed augmentations.

One day Chief Mendez had come to speak to him, curious of how he was holding up. Jerome had told the Chief the truth but didn’t express the sense of guilt and failure he was constantly tortured by. The Chief had nodded in response and told him his rehabilitation was going well. So well, he told him that he would be given a second chance.

A second chance.

A second chance to become a soldier, a second chance to become a Spartan. Become what he had spent his life since he was six training for. Jerome could hardly believe it, mostly because he feared it was false hope. Mendez explained to him that his failed augmentations hadn’t crippled him as severely as it had for others, and that the progress of his rehabilitation had been shown promising enough for a second attempt.

A second chance; he’d do anything for that. If it meant that he had to be re-trained and suffer through re-augmentations, then so be it. He’d dishonor his dead and crippled comrades if he didn’t take it.

Mendez had also told him that he wouldn’t be the only one. There were others like him who would be given a second chance. Jerome felt a bit uneasy by that. It still felt like only days had gone since he’d lost his friends---his whole team, and their deaths were still fresh in his mind. But perhaps building up a new team would give him something else to occupy his mind with.

------

It was during his first day of the retraining in one of the facilities that he had been joined by another trainee. One like him, who’d failed the augmentations but been given a second chance.

Jerome immediately recognized Douglas-042.

His gait was still a little stiff from the failed procedures despite having been through rehabilitation like Jerome, and his skin was paler than ever. His jaw was clenched and Jerome suspected he was still in some pain; Jerome’s own bones still ached and his mind was a little dizzy sometimes.

“Hey,” he greeted him.

“Hey,” Douglas greeted back, his gruff voice carrying a sense of wariness of the current situation. 

“Jerome-Zero-Nine-Two,” Jerome introduced himself. He didn’t know if Douglas recognized him; it had been a long time since their first interaction when Jerome had offered his advice. And the air was tense with uncertainty and uneasiness. Just something small and simple to tone it down, maybe.

“Douglas-Zero-Four-Two,” he replied curtly, scratching his neck. Jerome scratched his arms, the silence pressuring in on them.

They remained quiet for just a few minutes when another trainee joined them. Alice-130.

Jerome recognized her as one of the most capable and determined trainees he’d ever faced off against in training. 130 had quickly become known among the 75 of them as being one of the few who didn’t seem as traumatized by the sudden change in their lives like many others were.

Rather, she seemed to thrive on it. The hard and difficult training had been a series of seemingly impossible challenges for all of them, but 130 had been as determined as always to succeed, seemingly taking each lesson she was taught to the heart. Jerome held no doubt that out of the three of them, she’d been first to embrace the new path presented in her life while Jerome had whole-heartedly refused to accept it and Douglas had struggled with the grave differences his new life presented in contrast to his earlier.

She was driven by her yearning for action and lived for the combat and challenges she faced. Never one to be driven and blinded by anger.

He admired her for that.

They introduced themselves to her and she did the same, before things went quiet again. The air was still as tense as before.

“So…” Douglas tried but quickly trailed off. None of them really knew what to say or do. It was scary to believe that they’d been given a second chance when the program had labeled them as washouts.

But they had that in common. They were washouts, who failed the augmentations, who were given a second chance while wondering what had gone wrong, why they failed the first time, why they survived when so many others of them didn't. It wasn’t fair.

Life hardly ever was.

Jerome fiddled with his fingers on his arm. The three of them would supposedly become the new composition of Red Team, and he would again serve as team leader. He better get comfortable leading a team consisting of members he hardly knew.

“They gave us a second chance,” he began carefully, eyeing Alice and Douglas, attempting to draw out a response from either of them to better understand their take on the situation.

“Neither of us wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case,” Alice replied hesitantly, her strained voice betraying the hopeful excitement glimmering in her green eyes.

Jerome took a deep breath; at least he wasn’t alone in this.

This had to be a second chance.

He’d lost people he’d considered family and he missed them every day dearly. The knife was there again and twisted into his heart. There was pain and guilt. Douglas and Alice probably felt the same. They’d lost something as well. The three of them had been through the same events with similar losses. The three of them were the same.

It was a second chance.

“Yeah,” Douglas said warily after a moment, then quickly cleared his throat and spoke again, this time with more confidence and optimism. “It has to be.”

“Despite everything,” Alice continued, her voice a little stronger.

Jerome nodded. They hardly knew each other; they were still in pain but despite everything they have a second chance here. They should take it.

“A second chance,” Alice voiced his thoughts. “I’d take it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Douglas said in agreement and Jerome nodded his. A second chance.

Alice let out a breath and when she spoke next her voice didn’t sound as strained as before, her tone more that of confidence and determination. “Then let’s make sure we make it count.”

Make it count. A second chance to create something for what each of them had lost.

Don’t waste it.

Jerome no longer felt as wasted as he did before.

“Agreed,” Douglas replied, eyes shining now with the same determination and he rolled his shoulders a bit to loosen them up. “I’d say we better get started then, eh?”

Alice nodded at his proposal, challenge burning in her eyes.

Jerome looked at them. Each of them had suffered and lost much but it didn’t mean it was the end of things. They didn’t know each other well, but that would change.

It was a new beginning, maybe.

“Yes,” he said, loud and clear with confidence. A second chance for something new. “Let’s get started.”

[kandaxxx]

I’m so glad I found this blog! Can I request for kanda says I love you for this first time to his s.o??

Thank you!!! And your love of fluffy Kanda is keeping me alive!!!

I hope you enjoy!!

The day had been long. Too long.

Kanda had been sent out onto a mission with both Lavi and Allen as his partners. That should have been the only red flag he needed to know that this would have been a bad mission. 

They all were. He had never particularly enjoyed going on missions. They were no more than part of his job. While his prideーwhether it was pride or arrogance was something that could be heavily debatedーin the skill he had to kill akuma was undeniably present, he didn’t actually enjoy doing so. It brought him no pleasure.

It had started out badly enough. The stupid moyashi had actually managed not to be too annoying on the train ride as he fell asleep pretty early on. The problem was the idiot rabbit. No matter how many times Kanda told him to fuck off or just flat out ignored him, the redhead just continued to prattle on about this, that, and the next thing. 

And then he fell asleep. Not so much because he was tired, but because it was the only way he could successfully leave the one-sided conversation.

Or so he had thought.

He had awoken shortly after he had fallen asleep when he felt his hair being tugged on. When eyes the color of a summer sky opened, they found that Lavi had almost completed the act of braiding his ponytail.

Allen had woken up to the sounds of yelling and fighting and tried desperately to pull Kanda off of Lavi which only resulted in them fighting as well.

The mission itself had been a difficult one. The swordsman counted his lucky stars that it had been short. 

Allen had seen the akuma coming, but they still hadn’t been able to really prepare for what was coming. It was the largest hoard of akuma any of them had ever seen. And they had been accompanied by Road, who apparently was only there because she had missed Allen and wanted to pay him a visit.

Kanda had even managed to take a really good hit to the shoulder that had hacked his left arm clean off, meaning that he couldn’t use his double illusion swords like he had wanted to.

They had managed to kill all of the akuma and Road had left before they could go after her.

His wound had already healed. That meant that, much to the horror of Allen and Lavi who had gone green watching him, he had to reopen the wound at his shoulder with Mugen, place his arm back where it was supposed to be, and wrap it up so that it would heal in one piece this time. Except he hadn’t been able to wrap it properly with one hand so Lavi had been forced into helping which made the whole situation a thousand times worse for Kanda.

By the time they made it back to the Order, he was exhausted in every conceivable way. He grumbled to Allen and Lavi to let Komui know that he’d be in with his report the following morning before he parted ways with them, not bothering to wait for a response or even look back.

Then the head nurse found him. He had no idea which of the two idiots had ratted him out for being injured, so he made a mental note to murder both of them, just to be safe.

He spent an hour sitting on a cot while the woman undid all of his gauze, applied an antibiotic that fucking stings, you old bat! Before she went about the task of rewrapping everything up, nice and neat like a little gift. He snorted to himself at the thought, like temporary amputation was a gift.

Fuck, he just really wanted to sleep and forget about that whole day. He rubbed his palms over his face in exasperation.

As he began walking through the winding corridors of headquarters, he was stopped by the sound of crashing and screaming.

He turned to see another one of Komui’s asinine robots holding Allen while saying something about turning him into food, while Reever was yanking on the moyashi’s jacket in some fruitless attempt to rescue him. He had already begun walking away, completely intending to ignore it, until he heard the sound of Lenalee’s screaming. God fucking dammit!

So he had wasted more time having to destroy the demon robot while fending off a hysterical Komui.

Quiet. Sleep. Being alone. There was nothing more he needed. He was so close.

When he opened the door to his room, he was greeted by the sight of a lump under his blanket. Fuck, he hadn’t considered that they’d be here.

He had tolerated and maybe, just maybe, enjoyed the other’s presence previously, but right now, he just wanted to be alone. Was that really too much to ask for?

They were sitting up now, rubbing their fists into their eyes. “You’re back.” They said with a smile that was quick to falter at the scowl on Kanda’s face. “Do you want me to leave?” Their voice was small, but he knew from experience that if he were to say yes, they would leave. They’d pout about it, but ultimately, they had been pretty good thus far when it came to respecting his space when he needed it.

“Do whatever you want.” He mumbled before shrugging out of his dirtied uniform and threw it haphazardly into the corner of his room. 

The room was silent and filled with a pregnant tension as he went about changing into his sleeping clothing. He should shower, he realized. He was filthy. 

In the morning. Right now, he just needed to fucking sleep.

He pulled his hair from its tail and quickly combed his fingers through it, too irritated to bother with combing it properly. Again, in the morning, he thought to himself.

When he climbed into the bed, he was quick to roll onto his side and away from his partner. They moved to snuggle up to him from behind, their chest pushing into the tensed muscles of his back. They began to run gentle fingers through his hair. 

His partner didn’t say a word. They normally liked to talk so Kanda thought this strange, but was not going to complain right this second. Not even a, “Hey, how was the mission?” Complete silence. It hit Kanda then that they were being quiet and doing no more than soothingly running fingers over his head and through the tangled tresses of his dark hair for him. Fingers ghosted his scalp in their ministrations and he was quick to find his eyelids growing heavily.

“I love you.” He blurted out, his voice quiet and thick with sleepiness, his eyes already having fluttered shut. He was falling quickly into the void of sleep and wasn’t sure whether or not he had said the words out loud or if he had simply thought of them.

Behind him, his partner was grinning ear to ear.

“I love you too.” He heard before he felt lips pressing gingerly into his temple before he slipped completely unconscious.

[meanscarletdeceiver]

QLIR Outline: Seasons 1-3

New installment is coming along nicely! Posting this as a reader reference and as self-discipline.

When a story is posted, I’ll turn the title into a link. The stories may be written/posted quite out of order, so this outline should keep them straight.

Questions/ideas/requests for tidbits always welcome in the inbox. :) I: Quiet Little Island Railway (1922)

The Workshop. Henry is built. And built again. And again... (1919-1922)  The Express Engine. Henry is finally shipped to a railway, and a suspicious Fat Controller pretty much immediately has measuring tape and pocket watch out. Henry’s worried driver takes drastic action to secure Henry’s future. High-Speed Police Chase. The North Western buzzes with gossip when Scotland Yard inspectors start trawling the railway. Their target could certainly use a speedy green escape vehicle about now!... wait... Timetables. Sodor's new express engine keeps his time… mostly… with a little help from a series of drivers. But the latest one, the celebrated Mr. Lammaleye, doesn’t react to Henry’s usual request as expected. From the Sham to the Ham. Thomas fucks with Henry’s first goods train, because of course he does. Look Further, Do Worse. Henry asks Linda, the hardscrabble floater engine who has worked “everywhere,” whether Sodor is really all that great. Apparently, it is. Linda wants to impress the Fat Controller in the final weeks of her trial period, so she really-usefully teaches Thomas the concept of “speed trials,” senior maintenance workers their business, a new first-class coach some respect, and only Then There Was Trouble. Good Engines Don't. Henry and Edward have a snit that leaves the former devastated... and grimly determined to make a success of a special annual train to the mainland, no matter the cost. Mr. Lammaleye would be impressed—if he wasn't so disquieted by evidence of Henry’s all-too-human thinking. Bits. Henry has to wonder what exactly they did to him while they repaired his boiler, because upon his return Thomas is, like… more than halfway tolerable, and Henry celebrates his first Christmas by bringing back a present from Kildane for his station pilot. 

II: Saving the Railway (1923-4)

Clearing a Line #1. Thomas and Edward meet the new, genuine Gresley... and quickly notice that this is the weirdest arrival to Sodor they’ve ever had (which is saying a lot, with Henry, Linda, and both “hams” all making a strong showing in recent memory).  Clearing a Line #2. Edward was happy to try and keep express passenger services running between Henry’s repairs and Gordon’s arrival… but the Fat Controller added a catch, and Edward needed help from Mr. Lammaleye to manage his assignment. Alternately.: All the red flags that Edward ignored before Part I.  The Autumn After. Gordon saves the railway. Sodor booms. Three Four new engines are leased. The Fat Controller, busier than ever, becomes something of an absentee parent. The new crews are an unlikely lot and one of them... carries around a blowtorch? Are we seeing that right? Fun! Fuck Edward gets taken down several pegs a lot, leaving the new engines free to run amok. Gordon teaches them not to mess with him personally, but retreats deeply from railway social life. Henry, left alone, is running scared. Three Loaner Engines. Thomas re-introduces the Brass-Buffered Truck of Discord and very nearly manages to Brer Rabbit the remaining three new engines to turn on each other instead of the “owned” engines. (Almost.) One Eye Open. That winter, Gordon observes… everything. Pity there’s no one sensible around to tell it to. Careless. The loaners choose a new target and cook up their most violent trick yet. The Fat Controller is forced to take notice, Henry tries to take a stand, but ultimately it's Gordon who steps in and establishes new rules of engagement: tank engines are off-limits, you bloody sociopaths, or you’ll answer to ME.  Firelighters. Henry’s new friends can’t help him when he starts to develop a whole new set of steaming problems. Problem Passengers. Gordon is given a special excursion train to a mainland prizefight, and is not very happy about it. Then an altercation within his coaches is blamed on Gordon, because why not.  The Spare Engine/One Perfect Day.(still working out the title and whether this is even one chapter or two) When a new driver is hired, Edward makes his bid. Everyone takes this well. MacNeil, the new driver, seems passive, but quickly gets up a feud with Lammaleye.  Railman’s Holiday. Spoiler alert: The Fat Controller barely even gets a foot on the mainland. Alternately: Topham is But a Simple Mechanical Engineer You Guys. How Can He Even. /sarc  The Conspirators. Gordon makes a remarkably convincing case that he and Edward are best friends, didn’t “little Edward” realize? And, now that Edward's back in steam again and once his head is done exploding, Gordon reckons that it's past time to talk strategy.  The Tunnel. Everyone’s noticing that things are… getting better. Except Henry. Y’all. It’s been almost three years since he arrived, and well over a year with the new loaner engines bringing the Lord of the Flies hellscape. It all started to 'get better' way too late for Henry.

III: Saving Each Other (1924-5)

Closing a Line. The Fat Controller figures out What The Hell to Do About Henry. With the “benefit” of all sorts of “helpful” input from basically every “person” on “Sodor.”  Names and Numbers. After Henry is bricked in the tunnel, none of the loaners are now in any danger of being returned to their homes. This emboldens Samuel, who for the first time ever has a mysterious need for a banking engine. Still, despite their newfound security, Lloyd and Ipswich come clean...ish... and confess their brass-truck-related sins to the Fat Controller out of the genuine remorse and penance of their hearts because MacNeil proves to also be handy with a blowtorch and In No Mood You Guys.  The Wild Nor’wester. Thomas has gone… more than slightly feral over the course of the past eighteen months. Gordon, fed up, teaches Thomas not to be cheeky with him. Thomas proves to Gordon that it might be worth hearing from tank engines. You know. Occasionally.  Neither Here Nor There. Lloyd and Ipswich take stock of their options and decide to ingratiate themselves with A.W. Dry industries so as to become indispensable. It would help, of course, if they weren’t so incurably disposed to drama that soon they can’t help sabotaging each other. On the neighboring railway, Edward’s two eldest brothers, facing the scrapyard and with nothing to lose, use the element of surprise “wtf are you two even doing on this island” to pay out “the red berk” Samuel for scaring the hell out of them with lies the past year.  Reversing Reverse. Gordon is beginning to visualize a rather magnificent plan to knock down a brick wall or two. However, before he can implement the full grandeur of his genius, there is a bothersome annoyance that must first be dealt with: his co-conspirator, while hiding it diligently from the railwaymen, is sinking into depression. Luckily, the Fat Controller is making some decisions about Lloyd and Ipswich.  The Sidings. Human-only shenanigans at the railwaymen’s favorite pub: Gallagher tries to two-time the barmaid sisters, Annabel and Clara; Willis, Atkins, and Sand get competitive; MacNeil grudgingly starts treatment for his war-related shellshock, and thereby has some realizations about Henry that he confides to the most understanding person he can think of Lammaleye over a pint… or four…  The Tunnel Again/Brothers. THIS IS IT YOU GUYS. Do I even need to tell you what happens? Alternately: There is not a single hatchet left unburied on the Island of Sodor! (The three loaners aside...)  One More Winter. The Fat Controller realizes that he might have a slight blue Gresley-sized problem on his hands. Actually, if he paints Henry blue, he might have two of them! Edward gets a new assignment. Thomas finally gets to take his first passenger train. FC hasn’t quite booted Samuel off the island yet, and, while Henry has a lot on his plate as he returns to service… he makes room for a healthy serving of Ooooohhh Let Me Handle This One!

[gingermintpepper]

Things About Leon

I guess I’m firmly in the Leon boat now so let’s do this. 

I’m pretty new to the Sword/Shield discourse(?) community (and wow, that feels weird to say) but I’ve been generally disinterested in SwSh as games until now and, to be fair, I am still largely neutral towards them. There are a couple things that have piqued my attention here and there, and by far, the biggest has been the Champion of the Galar Region Leon. 

Leon, to me, is absolutely fascinating. He’s young, not as young as Iris mind you, but young enough that when he became Champion he couldn’t have been older than 16. He made it to Champion in one shot. He’s never been beaten which means that he would’ve gotten to the top on his maiden journey. Leon seems to me, to be around N’s age (which is roughly 19) and that makes his design take on a lot of different meanings depending on how you look at it. 

I’m not overly fond of his clothes but they tell a good story--one of Leon not really being his own person or having the freedom to express his own desires and sense of self. And that slaps. 

Let’s start with the Sponsor Stickers. 

Leon’s cape is a huge literal red flag that he’s not his own person. He’s wearing a weighted reminder that he has sponsors, that he’s the face of multiple companies, that every action and word he makes or says has the power to change the course of his career based on how his sponsors feel on a given day about a given action. He has to keep up this larger than life persona constantly, has to keep mentioning his tag lines like his winning streak, his undefeatableness because that’s his brand. That’s what he represents. An paragon of Galar’s unconquerable strength in the battle ring.

Then we have his general design and hhhh

I just want to reiterate that there’s no way Leon isn’t young. He’s too close to Hop for there to be a considerable age difference between them and little pieces of himself like his snapback are markers of his age and his actual taste in fashion. That said, it looks like his main outfit was put together by three different sponsor companies and he doesn’t really have a choice in whether to wear them or not. In fact, I’m pretty sure Leon digs the clothes. 

They keep the attention in the right place. 

Leon’s not an unattractive guy (and by the looks of it, the majority of Pokefans agree with that assessment) but if he had become an icon/phenomenon/idol at such a tender age then with it comes a lot of creepy attention that Leon definitely would’ve felt uncomfortably with. Media, magazines, selfies, social coverage all of these things are huge in Galar and the image that Leon would’ve had superimposed on him by people who thought him hot/daddy af/any other number of deplorable terms you can probably think of would’ve had to be controlled really quickly if Leon wanted any chance of being treated like a person instead of a piece of meat. Being an overgrown kid, a show-off athlete type, a larger than life persona to fit the larger than life legend that his backers were crafting for him when he would’ve just been a kid who loved battling--that’s infinitely more comfortable. 

There’s like a million other things I can talk about too; Leon hiding just how sharp he is (see him being able to rattle off exactly how much Hop’s grown since he last saw him down to the inch just by eyeballing him for a sec), the amount of pressure that must come with an ‘Undefeatable’ moniker, the way he keeps pushing himself to be better and whether that’s to preserve his title or for the love of Pokemon training, hell if I know. My point is, I’d love to see Leon turn out to be a weird commentary on the fact that Champion is handed out so fast and loose. The Champion of a region carries with them the hopes and dreams of that region, and the image that Champion portrays is ultimately what ends up being sort of the identity of that region. It’s something that’s rang through for every region before and it’s something that rings through now. 

Green was the culmination of your story. A strong and personal beginning that imprinted itself on the heart with a strong and personal struggle to the top.  Lance was stern and intimidating. A cool fierce challenge that rang out and reminded the people of Kanto and Johto to keep moving forward in the face of dangerous times. Steven represented the relaxed ways of Hoenn along with its paradox of change, a man caught in a limbo between pursuing the things he loved and pursuing what would be best for the good of the region, ultimately choosing to follow his heart and pass the title onto his friend Wallace who represented the elegance and power of Hoenn’s many, many new features and styles of battle. Cynthia was the history and quiet mystery of Sinnoh, an observer who endeavoured to learn as much about her home as possible and who emblemized the strange yet iconic primordial strength of Sinnoh. Iris and Alder together represent death of the old and reinvention with the new. A precipice for Pokemon where Game Freak put to death many features to offer a new direction, a new, different path forward, a dichotomy of the old and modern like the two Unovas co-existing. Diantha was the newness of Kalos, old, enduring features going back to the roots of Pokemon married to the shiny, exciting step into the future. 

And Leon? Leon’s the gentleness and power of Galar, a humbleness that’s dressed and paraded and stretched into a new, efficient form; a caged majesty set to work at the feet of forces beyond himself. 

[bedlamsbard]

Part 3 of the other side AU concept!  Still estimating this at five parts total.   The AU is Backbone-based and uses Backbone backstory up until the present day.  Markus Anjali also appears in these Backbone backstory scenes, referred to in this sequence.

Previous: Part 1 Part 2

About 5.7K below the break.

***

“Don’t make trouble,” was the first thing Hera said to Chopper as they got off the maglev train at the station nearest the ISB Complex.  She had told him that back at the Ghost, but she thought it bore repeating.

He grumbled back at her and Hera made a face at him.

The platform was crowded with commuters, most of whom were either Imperial officers or support staff for the Imperial Complex and ISB Headquarters a block away.  Hera’s green skin and white-covered headtails got her a few second glances, but after four days here she was starting to become a regular, and a few people remembered her from the previous year.  She stopped at a tapcaf to get a takeaway caf and nervously emptied two packets of sweetener into it while Chopper complained about the delay.

“Oh, shut up or I’ll leave you here,” Hera told him, jamming the lid back onto her cup.  The tapcaf was full of people in gray or white Imperial uniforms, mostly junior officers or staff running errands for their superiors up at the Imperial Complex.  Only moffs and flag officers could keep really good caf in their offices; even on Naboo what was available in the mess hall or the break rooms tended to be swill. Even if it hadn’t started out that way, being kept on a warmer for eight or twelve hours rendered it little better than tar.  Not that tar didn’t have its place, but Hera was of the firm opinion that place was in the field on a sixteen-hour watch, not in the office.

She threaded her way out of the tapcaf back into the street, where several other astromechs were waiting on the pavement for their owners; Chopper had followed her inside rather than make polite conversation with them.

The Imperial Complex was only a street away.  The stormtroopers at the entrance waved her inside with only a cursory check of her credentials and Chopper’s operating number; Hera wasn’t the only nonhuman who worked there, but as far as she was aware she was the only Twi’lek.  She had to swipe her code cylinder in order to get into the ISB building, while Chopper had to plug in to be scanned.  Since his ban had never been official, just verbal, he was allowed in without raising any alarms.

“Do not light anyone on fire,” Hera told Chopper under her breath when they had reached an empty hallway that she knew had a faulty security cam.  “I’ll signal you when I’m done.”

He saluted her with one of his manipulators and rolled off.  Hera took a deep breath, smoothed down the front of her uniform unnecessarily, and started towards the turbolifts and the bullpen on the sixth floor where Agent Beneke’s office was.  Markus Anjali, as he had done the past three days, was waiting for her outside the glass doors to the bullpen.

“Hey, Hera,” he said, as if he hadn’t been staking the turbolift lobby out.

“Hello, Markus,” Hera said, pitching her now-empty caf cup into the nearest trashcan and already exhausted by the thought of having to spend the next few minutes with him. They had shared a desk when she had been working here, she and Markus and two other agents at one of the four-desk setups in the bullpen.  The others had been all right, but neither of them were here at present.

Her old desk was occupied by an agent she didn’t recognize.  A handful of offices ringed the bullpen’s second level; Hera glanced up and saw Agent Beneke silhouetted through the window of his office.

“Do you want to get dinner tonight, after you get off?” Markus said. “We could catch up.”

“I’m here with my partner, Markus,” Hera said.

“Well, it’s not like he has to come.”  He put a hand on her wrist. “I know you were angry at me after Felucia, but by now you have to realize that he’s not –”

“Let me clarify,” Hera said. “I’m here with my partner whom I love and have sex with on a regular basis, Markus.  I wasn’t trying to replace him two months ago and I’m not interested now.”  She removed her hand from his before he could respond and was at the stairs to the second level before he could do more than open his mouth again.

She rapped her knuckles against Agent Beneke’s door and waited for him to look up and wave her inside before she entered.

“Good morning, sir,” she said.

Beneke gave her the kind of look that made her uncomfortably certain that he knew that not only had she spent the night in Kanan’s bed, but that her double was on the Ghost now and Chopper was rolling around ISB HQ looking for a convenient and sufficiently high-access dataport to plug into.  But all he said was, “Good morning, Hera. Have a seat.”

She took the chair in front of his desk and set her shoulder bag carefully down by her feet.

“I hope this inactivity has not made the Inquisitor too restless,” Beneke said.

“No, sir.”

The cams are disabled, she reminded herself. He doesn’t know.  They had checked the Ghost over months ago after Kanan had first come back, after a chance comment from another ISB agent Hera knew who usually oversaw internal surveillance.  The bugs had ben transmitting until just after Kanan had returned, when they had been turned off; Chopper had been able to have the Ghost’s systems fry their internal circuitry so that they couldn’t be reactivated if the ISB and the Inquisition ever stopped fighting over the two of them.

Agent Beneke looked at her for a long moment.  Hera met his gaze evenly, not allowing herself to blink or look aside; it was Agent Beneke who finally said, “Well, let’s get started then.”  He touched the control on his desk that dimmed the windows to the bullpen, so that no one down below or on the balcony outside could see what they were doing.  “Where were we when we left off last night?”

“Otoh Gunga, sir.”

As Hera was pulling out her datapad to bring up her own notes on the mission, Agent Beneke said, “Agent Anjali only has your best interests in mind, Hera.”

“Agent Anjali has getting into my pants in mind.  Sir.”

Agent Beneke raised an eyebrow.  “My impression has been that Agent Anjali has always been a good friend to you, apart from that little incident on Felucia.  And you must admit you overreacted there.”

Hera felt a muscle in her jaw twitch.  That “little incident,” as Agent Beneke called it, had been her slapping Markus in front of a tent full of officers and agents – not to mention Kanan – after he had called Kanan a thing and suggested that she was sleeping with Kanan because she didn’t think she had better options.  As far as she was considered her reaction had been entirely justified and would have been so even if she had gone up on charges for it, which she hadn’t – mostly because everyone there had been too afraid of Kanan to suggest that she might have been in the wrong.  He had been six months out of the Crucible, barely speaking, and terrifying even to the officers in command of that operation.  It had also been the morning after the first time since he had come back that they had had sex; for months after his return Hera hadn’t been certain he would ever be able to touch her again.  Markus’s reaction had gone a long way towards ruining her morning.  He had also suggested with what was clearly supposed to be glowing praise that she was “nearly human,” presumably in contrast to the Twi’lek girl down at the Lake House whom Hera knew he slept with regularly.

“Sir,” she said instead of any meaningful response.

“We do have some leeway with the Inquisition, you know, Hera,” Agent Beneke said mildly. “If you were to request a transfer, it would go through.   Your partnership – if it can be called that – is highly irregular and entirely unprecedented as a long-term assignment.”

“I’m content with my assignment, sir.”

Agent Beneke arched an eyebrow at her, as if gently contemplating how that could possibly be true. “You were very young when you met him, and you haven’t had much experience apart from your current assignment –”

“I had a year’s worth of experience, sir.”  She had even seen other men on occasion, mostly to placate Agent Beneke when she had been so tired and so grief-stricken that she would have done nearly anything to make him leave her alone.  Every one of those occasions had ended disastrously, including the time two years ago when she and Kanan had been fighting and she had gone out with another agent to make him jealous.  She had never gone home with any of them; she hadn’t even gotten through dinner with any of them.

“I suppose that’s true,” Agent Beneke conceded, “but you must admit that it was somewhat limited. I could arrange for you to be transferred to one of the other ISB regional headquarters, or even to Coruscant. Give it some thought.”  He activated the holoprojector over his desk and the city of Otoh Gunga sprang up in miniature.  “Let’s review your operation here.”

It was one of her rare solo operations from her year on Naboo, and Hera was glad that she had made herself take extensive notes at the time, since she had blanked out most of her miserable year onworld.

From the Otoh Gunga op they moved onto a review of the Onaxa fiasco, which had ultimately been a win for the Bureau but had unfortunately involved several senior officers and government officials being completely humiliated.  That had been one of the operations that had taken place shortly after Kanan had found out that Hera was ISB and not an independent contractor, so he had been as delighted about it as she was dismayed.  It also happened to be the operation they had been working on when she had gone to dinner with Agent Taraj and come back to the Ghost drunk and crying.  She and Kanan had been fighting for weeks; he had been furious with her for lying to him about working for the Empire, and she had been furious at him for not merely accepting it.  He had left when she had told him the truth; he had come back not long afterwards, but the fact that he had left at all had hung over them both.

When he had come back, he had asked her to leave with him, and it was the greatest regret of Hera’s life that she had refused.

“Hera?” Agent Beneke said, a note of reproach in his voice.

She raised her gaze to him. “I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t sleep very well.”

She knew it was a mistake to say as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  Agent Beneke’s eyes narrowed, so slightly that anyone who didn’t know him well might not have noticed, and he said, “Did the Inquisitor keep you up?”

Hera wondered how he would react if she told him the truth, that she had lain in bed beside Kanan and thought about the woman in the other cabin, the woman with her face and her voice and the insignia of something that didn’t exist, not yet.  For that matter, she wondered what he would say if she told him yes, she had been having sex with Kanan most of the night, even if on this particular occasion it wasn’t the truth.

“No, sir,” she said instead. “I just don’t sleep well when I’m dirtside.”

“Perhaps you should see the Bureau psychologist about that, Hera,” Agent Beneke suggested.

“I’ll consider it, sir.”

She wondered if the other Hera Syndulla ever had to deal with this.  She couldn’t see it – the other woman was too confident for that – but it seemed inevitable that she must have.  With rare exception, humans were humans and her Rebel Alliance couldn’t be that different than the Empire except in goal.

A rebel alliance, part of her thought.  She had gone after plenty of rebels and in her experience, none of them wanted to cooperate with anyone else, which was why they were rebels in the first place.  The little she knew about the way her father ran Free Ryloth suggested that it only worked because he was the highest ranking person there; if another curial clan ever joined up – unlikely, given how much most of the curiates hated each other – then the fleet would probably self-destruct.  Unless something had changed drastically by the other Hera’s time, Hera couldn’t see any way that a rebel alliance could actually succeed.

She forced herself to concentrate on what Agent Beneke was saying, despite her earnest desire to be anywhere else right now and her sinking feeling that no matter how intently she listened, it ultimately wouldn’t matter.  After this, she wouldn’t be able to come back to the ISB even if she wanted to.  And she wasn’t sure she did.  She wasn’t sure she didn’t, either, but if she went through with this then the choice would be out of her hands.

She could also, she knew, tell him right now and then that would be out of her hands too.  But she couldn’t do that.  She just couldn’t.

She sat impatiently as Agent Beneke asked her a series of leading questions about Kanan’s involvement with the Onaxa operation and how he had interacted with the other ISB team on that operation.  Since he had shot one of them – not Agent Taraj – it was an exhausting conversation, even if Agent Beneke had to admit that it had been a justified shoot.  It just didn’t look good when a civilian contractor, which Kanan had been at the time, shot an Imperial officer.

What does it matter? she thought despairingly. I’m not going to stay.

The realization brought her up short.

She and Kanan had talked about this, or rather, they had talked around it.  They had discussed what they were going to do; they hadn’t discussed what it really meant and what the outcome was going to be.  But she was going.  She wasn’t coming back.

“Hera,” Agent Beneke said pointedly.

He must have asked her a question; Hera didn’t have the faintest idea what it was.  She was still staring at him when the comlink set into his desk beeped with an incoming transmission.

He touched the control. “Yes?”

Hera kept her expression neutral through the response; Agent Beneke said, “I’ll be down shortly,” and disconnected.  As he stood up, he looked down at her and said, “This will only take a few minutes. We will continue this, Hera.”

“Yes, sir.”  Hera folded her hands over her datapad, looking straight ahead.

“Stay here.”

He left the room. Hera sat where she was, silently counting off his progress across the bullpen floor until she was certain that he had reached the turbolifts, then got up and crossed quickly to the other side of his desk.  He hadn’t bothered to log out of his computer, though Hera knew his log-in information and had been prepared to use it.

Hera pulled the datacard she had brought with her out of her jacket and inserted it into the slot. She kept an eye on the door and the darkened windows as she brought up the files she was looking for and copied them over.  She was about to close out the files and disconnect when she saw a folder titled “SYNDULLA.”

It was probably nothing more than his notes on her, which Hera frankly didn’t want to see, but she copied them to the datacard anyway.  She closed out of everything she had opened, then disconnected her datacard and stuffed it back into her jacket.  It hadn’t taken more than two minutes.

Hera straightened upright. She looked around the office, taking it all in – a small, spare room whose only decorations were a handful of plaques and a single watercolor landscape of Naboo’s Lake Country.  Then she straightened her jacket and walked out of the room, clicking her comlink once as she went.

Markus looked up as she passed his desk. “Hera,” he said, surprised. “Are you leaving already?  I thought you –”

“We’ve got an op,” Hera said, surprised by how calm her voice was. “Orders just came in from Mustafar.”

He frowned, but even the ISB wouldn’t argue with the Inquisition.

“Could you tell Agent Beneke that I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye?” Hera said after a moment’s hesitation.  It wasn’t a lie, not quite, and that surprised her too.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Markus said.  He started to stand, and then stopped, as if unsure what to do. “Hera, I – be careful.”

He didn’t add “with him,” so all Hera said was, “I always am,” before she left.  She didn’t look back.

*

Kanan met her on the Ghost’s ramp with a quick kiss and an arm around her waist.  Hera took a few moments to lean into the comforting curve of his shoulder before they went inside, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

She doesn’t have this, she thought, and the memory of what that had been like made her heart ache.  The idea of going on like that for years was too painful to contemplate.

“All right?” Kanan asked her quietly.

Hera nodded.  She leaned up to kiss him briefly, then said, “Did you get the transmission?”

“Yeah.”  He glanced up at Chopper, who had preceded them up the ramp, and added, “Nice job.”

Chopper waved one manipulator and made a dismissive noise, but Hera could tell he was pleased by the compliment.

They went up into the Ghost, closing up the ramp behind them.  Hera pulled at the front of her jacket, suddenly uncomfortable having it on, even though it wasn’t treason – not quite yet. They still had a few hours before then.

Kanan glanced at her, his expression understanding; he was in his uniform too, even though he hadn’t been wearing his leathers and armor when Hera had left that morning.

“Can you take us out of here?” Hera asked him once they were up in the cockpit.  As Kanan’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline, since she seldom let him fly, she added, “I have to work on the credentials.”

“Yeah, of course,” Kanan said, though from his expression she could tell he knew she just didn’t want to be the one who left Naboo behind.  She had left the planet dozens of times before, but this was different. She didn’t know if she could bear watching, let alone doing it.

“Thanks.”  She left him and Chopper in the cockpit, stopping in the corridor as soon as the door had closed behind her.  She pressed her hands to her face , breathing hard, then started to strip off her gloves.  She had one hand out for her own door controls when something made her frown and look up.

She went down to the common room instead, and started in surprise to find the other Hera Syndulla sitting at the holotable, holding a mug between her hands.  She looked up as Hera came in.

“Oh,” Hera said.  She didn’t know why she was surprised; of course Kanan would have let her out.  She knew that he knew she hated being locked in anywhere.

“Hi,” the other Hera said.

Hera almost turned and walked out of the room again, but instead she said abruptly, “Are you afraid of the dark?”

The older woman blinked. “No.  Why?” She hesitated, then asked, “Are you?”

Hera nodded. “If Kanan’s not there, I have to sleep with a light on.”  Sometimes when he was there too, if she was having a particularly bad night; he had never commented on it or asked why.  She thought he probably guessed, and something about the way he had acted after he got back from Mustafar made her suspect he knew exactly why.

She glanced at the door she had come through, feeling the Ghost’s engines vibrate through the deck as Kanan started them up.  He wouldn’t be leaving the cockpit anytime soon.  She looked back at the other Hera and swallowed before saying, “When I was at the Spire – when I was in prison – they used to turn the lights off.  Or on. Not on the planet’s night cycle, it was just…random.  Sometimes not for very long.  Sometimes for – for a long time.”  She looked down at her hands, which even seven years later were still flecked with scars where she had beaten them bloody pounding at the door to her cell when it had gotten to be too much for her.

She could still measure out the walls of her cell in the dark; it had been a little smaller than her cabin was now.  On bad nights, when Kanan wasn’t there, she still walked the width of her cell, back and forth in her cabin or in the Ghost’s hold, turning invisible corners and skating around the steps that had led up to the door.  Once one of the Ghost’s air filters had broken and Hera had woken up wild with terror, because it had smelled exactly the same as it had back in the Spire.  Kanan had fixed it while Hera had curled up in a corner of her bunk, weeping as Chopper tried to comfort her.

She looked up at the other Hera’s stricken expression.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I just couldn’t remember if I was afraid of the dark before or not.”

“Hera –”  She stood up.

Hera left before she could come after her, hurrying back down the corridor to her cabin and catching herself on the wall as the Ghost lifted smoothly up from the docking bay.  She stumbled into her cabin, letting the door shut behind her and flattening one hand against the wall.  She was breathing hard, tears pricking at her eyes; she wasn’t sure why.

But she had a lot of practice doing work while on the verge of tears; she had gone through all of last year and most of her Academy days like that.  Swiping the back of her wrist across her eyes, Hera pushed away from the wall and dug the datacard out of the inside of her jacket.

*

Hera looked up as Kanan came into the common room.  For lack of anything else to do, she had been playing sabacc against herself, which was easier said than done since Sabine hadn’t fixed the buggy software yet and creatures would randomly disappear and reappear on opposite sides of the board.

Seeing him was still a shock.  She knew he wasn’t her Kanan – the age was a dead giveaway, even if the scars and black outfit hadn’t been – but it hurt to look at him.  She could tell that he knew it, too.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said.

Hera shut the sabacc game off. “Do you have a plan?” she asked.  She couldn’t shake her uneasy memory of what had happened the last time the Rebel Alliance had come to Scarif.  They still didn’t know what had happened down on the planet, and never would; everyone who could have told them had died there.  Many people who had never made it to the surface had died there.

He arched an eyebrow. “Did you think we didn’t?”

“Why do you think I asked?” Her Kanan would have had a plan. She might have had one, but it likely wouldn’t have been as good as his.

He smiled a little. “We do.” He glanced back as Hera – his Hera – came in behind him as if summoned.  Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had been crying, but she looked grimly determined.

“I hope you don’t mind wearing an Imperial uniform,” she said to Hera.

*

“Well, this is new,” Hera muttered a few minutes later, pulling uncomfortably at the hem of her borrowed uniform.  It was ISB field grays, and a little tight – she and the other Hera were almost but not quite the same size, though she thought the younger woman was actually broader in the shoulders, if smaller in the bust.  Well, she was an active field agent instead of a flag officer, and she hadn’t had a child.

Even these days it wasn’t uncommon for Alliance personnel to have to go undercover as Imperials, and most larger ships had a small collection of Imperial uniforms and armor just in case.  Hera, for fairly obvious reasons, had never done so.  When she was in the field now she was commanding from the deck of a starship, or on now rare occasions, in the cockpit; when she had been younger she had always had humans around who could believably take that role.  She had managed to avoid taking the dancing girl roles that Twi’leks tended to get relegated to when she was younger by virtue of never having to go on a mission where that was necessary; as a flag officer it was completely out of the question now.

She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror and began to wrap up her lekku, hating it immediately. Upper-caste Twi’lek women never covered up their lekku and usually left their other caste markings bare; Hera didn’t bother with the latter because when she had first been in the field she had been concerned about being recognized as a curiate Syndulla.  In the Alliance, not only did it not matter, no one would recognize their significance anyway.  Once off Ryloth, it wasn’t uncommon to see Twi’leks with decorative lekku markings; it would have taken a Ryloth native or a first generation colonist to recognize her markings as curial caste markings.  The other Hera obviously felt differently, though probably for different reasons.

Once her lekku were covered, she used makeup to subtly change the shape of her face, accentuating the slight differences between herself and the other Hera.  They would probably still be taken for sisters, but there was nothing to be done about that.

She stepped into the cockpit to a stream of familiar Binary obscenities.  Chopper swiveled his dome at her approach, his invective suddenly replaced by a low, startled sound.  The other Hera, who had been crouched in front of him, sat back on her heels and looked up at Hera.

“You’ll do,” she said, sounding unhappy about it.

Chopper chirped a cautious inquiry.  It was, Hera realized with surprise, the first time she had seen him since she had arrived.

“Yes, it’s me,” she told him. “Do you want to do a genetic test?”

He waved one of his manipulators dismissively, but the sound he made was distinctively taken aback. The younger Hera waved a hand in front of his optical processors. “Come on, you.  Your paint’s not dry yet.”

Hera gave him a second look. She had assumed that his black-and-red paint job was how he looked normally in this universe, but apparently not.

The door slid open behind her and Hera stepped out of the way so that Kanan could come in. She glanced at him, then did a double-take.

Even in his heavy leathers and black vambraces she had had trouble seeing him as an Inquisitor before. Now there was no question about it. He had added upper body armor, including pauldrons with the Imperial cog painted on, and his step was heavier; he was wearing blackened greaves that covered his legs from ankle to knee.  A black mask of some unfamiliar material concealed the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes visible.

The other Hera said, “I hate that.”

“Not as much as I do.” His voice was a little muffled. He reached up and unsealed the mask, wincing as little as he pulled it away from his face.  Hera realized abruptly that the scars she had seen there earlier exactly matched the outline of the mask, as if he had worn it until it had worn the skin raw.  “But it impresses the regs.”

“Hmmph.”  The other Hera stood up and kissed him. “You look like you’re coming to murder someone.”

“That’s the intended effect.”

“I know.”

Suddenly Hera realized that they were both completely serious.

Kanan flicked a glance at her, as if he had sensed her revelation.  He looked away, stepping past her to take the co-pilot’s seat.

He’s done it, Hera thought, her fists clenching and unclenching inside their black gloves.  He’s killed people for the Empire.  He’s walked into a room dressed just like this to do murder, and she was probably with him.

She didn’t know Inquisitors, but she knew how terrified Kanan had been after they had gotten him back from Tarkin’s star destroyer over Mustafar.  He had had nightmares for weeks – months – afterwards.  He had still been having them intermittently when they had gone to Malachor, which hadn’t replaced them so much as added something new to have nightmares about.  Hera did know Imperials; apart from personal experience with those still in the Imperial service, there were plenty of Imperial deserters in the Alliance ranks.  Kallus wasn’t the only former ISB officer, either, though he was the one she knew best. She had a pretty good idea of exactly what it took to succeed in the ISB and the other Hera had clearly done it.

She hadn’t been thinking of them as Imperials in more than name.

The other Hera glanced at her, her expression unreadable, then slid into the pilot’s chair.  Hera looked down and took the chair behind Kanan, the one that should have been Sabine’s.

Hera had always felt a certain amount of pity for the Imperials who had come over to the Alliance, though too much experience had kept her for feeling any for those who chose to stay with the Empire.  The Empire recruited heavily from worlds like Lothal and Tatooine, Outer Rim planets whose residents had few options to get out or make something of themselves, as well as from the lower levels of ecumenopoleis like Coruscant, where options were equally limited.  She remembered being that desperate to get offworld when she had been a teenager, and if she had been human – well, she wouldn’t have taken that option, not growing up as Cham Syndulla’s daughter, but she understood how it felt to do anything, anything, if it meant you could get away.  Those who came to the Alliance were the ones who understood that “anything” didn’t mean “everything.”

Hera had always thought that she would never be one of those people, even if she had had the option.

And Kanan –

She looked down at her hands rather than at the back of his head, breathing hard, and missed the transition from hyperspace to realspace.

“Welcome to Scarif,” Kanan said. “That is a lot of star destroyers.”

Hera straightened up, peering over his shoulder out the viewport.  “Not as many as the last time I was here,” she remarked.  The blue glow of the planetary shield was just barely visible; they had arrived on the day side of the planet.  She looked at the shield gate and shuddered.

“You’ve been here before?” the other Hera asked.

“I had more friends with me,” Hera said, then clarified, “An Alliance commando unit infiltrated the vaults to steal plans for the D – for an Imperial superweapon.  The rest of the Alliance fleet came to support them; it was our first major fleet action against the Empire.  I was with the fleet; it was my last action flying the Ghost, actually.”

“They don’t sound like they were very good commandos,” the other woman muttered.

“They got the information out.”  Hera’s mouth tightened.  She hoped this didn’t go the same way that had.  The Alliance would never know how Rogue One had died, just that they had, and so had everyone else on the planet’s surface.

She had heard their last transmission, the desperate plea to bring down the shield gate.  It wasn’t the only thing that haunted her dreams, not by a long shot, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t one of them.

The two Imperials exchanged a look Hera couldn’t read, then the girl leaned forward to touch the comm unit, “This is ISB/Inquisition transport Ghost, code ISB/INQ-972484, requesting permission to land.”

There was a long moment of silence, then the response came, “Ghost, you’re clear to land.  Landing pad 6.”

“Thank you.”

Hera supposed that no one questioned the ISB, or possibly the Inquisition; presumably the combination of the two was something that no one wanted to deal with for longer than they had to.  It was a pity that that information would be useless back home, since the Inquisition no longer existed.

She watched as they slid past star destroyers, TIE patrols, and transport vessels, the latter all making their slow approach to or from the shield gate.  The Ghost descended it slowly; Hera clenched her fists on the arms of her chair, thinking about the starfighters she had seen shattered against it when it had closed during the battle. She glanced up reflexively once they had passed it, even though that didn’t show her anything but the ceiling of the Ghost.

Scarif was pretty, she could tell from the viewport.  It would have made a nice vacation spot if it wasn’t for the Empire. She wondered what had been going through Tarkin’s head when he had picked it for the data center – the location, maybe, though there were dozens of other planets as conveniently placed.  Hera didn’t think she would ever see it as anything other than a killing ground. She watched the Citadel Tower slide past them as the Ghost circled to their assigned landing pad; the other Hera brought the ship down as gently as Hera herself would have done.

Kanan got to his feet, sliding his mask back on.  “Well,” he said, his voice cold, a killer’s voice, an Imperial Inquisitor’s voice, “here we go.”