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steviewashere · 3 months

Text

Perfect Timing

Rating: General CW: References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Marriage Proposals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Dialogue Heavy

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is having hope for the future together."

💕—————💕

Steve was sitting at the dining table, hands spread out on the surface, staring down at a piece of mail when he heard Eddie clamber through the front door. Based on the string of things being dropped and Eddie not reacting negatively, just sighing a little bit and picking things up, must mean he was having a good day.

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air.

And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

See, Eddie was out playing a demo tape for a small record company based here in Chicago. A little indie place that’s been looking to expand their music catalogue from contemporary to a broader lick of alternative genres. Which, it turns out, includes thrash and heavy metal. Which, Steve adores, Eddie is amazing at performing.

But, Steve? He’s been anxiously waiting all day for the mail to arrive. Biting down on his fingernails, chewing them up so much they bleed and he has to run his fingertips under lukewarm water. Pacing the carpet of the living room. Pushing down and peering through the eggshell blinds. Biting his fingernails, again. And then it came and now he’s at their dining table and now he’s waiting for Eddie to careen around the corner and kiss his hair and ask in his greeting Steve voice, “What’s this, baby?”

“What’s this, baby?” Steve hears from above him. He jumps a little bit. Maybe he should have put on music or something, try to get himself to stay grounded in the present. “Stevie?” Eddie calls.

“Oh, uh,” Steve stutters. “It’s a letter I got in the mail, but I—I wanna hear about your demo tape.” Eddie gives him a sidelong glance. A little furrow to his eyebrows, a frown. “The letter isn’t anything bad, I read it already. But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Eddie hums, nodding in slow understanding. He slides into the dining seat across from Steve. Mirroring his position. Then, he realizes, based on whatever face Steve makes, that it’s only anxiety inducing. He sets his chin in his right palm, stretching the other onto the table for Steve to take. Waiting patiently. And says, when Steve actually grabs back, “It went really well, sweetheart. They offered me a contract.”

“That’s great news, Eds! What did—Did you sign it? Please tell me you signed it.”

Then, Eddie sighs. And Steve shrinks a little. “I did,” he tells slowly, as if testing the words for the first time. “I signed it. They’re keeping me based here. I’ll start recording next Saturday.” He squeezes at Steve’s hand.

“What’s the long face for, then?”

“I’m not making a face,” Eddie feebly argues.

“You are!” And Steve mocks him. Frowning, eyes distant to the surface of the table, bunching his eyebrows impossibly farther down his face. His shoulders slump. “That’s what you did! What happened? Were they pieces of shit to you or something? Did they like—Are they underselling your music prowess or something? Do I need to kick their—“

Eddie chuckles. His laughter like honey. “Babe, breathe for me,” he whispers. “My only issue is that—“ But he cuts himself off there. He leans in across the table. Eyes down at the letter in front of Steve. “That’s a letter from the community college, isn’t it?”

Steve pulls his hands back, laying them palm down on the paper. He swallows thickly. “It is. Why?”

“Did you get in?”

“I’m not telling you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You telling me determines whether or not I have a genuine problem. So…Did you get into the college that you’ve been looking at forlorn every time we drive by it? Or did you not and I need to go kick some old people ass?” His eyes are large in earnest. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. His hair curtaining his face, making his facial features impossibly darker, shadowed by something tricky.

Steve chews on his lip. “I got in,” he mutters. “I got into their English literature program. And once I’m done with that, I transfer. And once I transfer, I start classes at a four year. I’ll be studying English literature and secondary education,” he rambles. His fingers tap over the letter. “Is that…Does that ruin your whole music dream? I don’t want to be the reason that you chase something else.”

For a moment, the room goes scary still and silent. Eddie’s facial features soften. And Steve’s heart rabbits against his ribcage. Hard enough that he slides a palm over his t-shirt, massaging at the rapid beating, hoping that he doesn’t have a heart attack on the third floor of their complex. That would suck, he thinks bitterly. And my future would be done for.

He sits back in his chair. Anxiety thrumming under his skin when Eddie still doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at him like he’s…Like he’s planning an entire five lifetimes with Steve. Like he’s about to sweep Steve off his feet, chuck him over the side of their mattress, give him hickeys until he’s a mottled lovesick mess, and then get down on one knee and surrender his heart to Steve’s hands. Like he’s gonna propose something wonderful like marriage. And, maybe, Steve lets himself believe something crazy like that.

“Remember when I told you that I consider marriage as a possibility?” Eddie asks abruptly.

And, goddamnit, if Eddie does something crazy and stupid like propose right now, Steve may just throw up out of excitement. How embarrassing, he thinks. And he chuckles despite that.

“I do,” he finds himself whispering. “What does this—“

“And I considered it with you. And I held you close and you cried against my lips and we made love like we were the only people in the universe? Remember all the times that you’d lay on top of me out of contentment? All the times I’d hold you close to my chest? All the times you kissed over my heart, like it was the only thing keeping us tethered to the moment?”

Nervously, Steve laughs. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I remember all that. What is your point with—“

“Fucking margarita nights. You’re a sweet drunk, d’you know that? Like almost unbearably sweet.” Eddie scoots his chair around the table. Setting it next to Steve, on his left. And his hands come into Steve’s field of view. Gathering Steve’s palms in his, squeezing and caressing the skin. “All the times in which we thought that this apartment was all that we had.” He shakes his head, smirking, snickering like this intense reaction he’s having is something funny to Steve.

Fact of the matter, Steve is scared shitless right now. What if this is his way of breaking up, he can’t help himself from wondering. Cruel. He swallows against the lump in his throat. Words escaping him.

“I want to marry you so bad,” Eddie swears. “Wanna do the whole ceremony. And the paper signing. And the honeymoon, but in some little cabin on a mountain. Where we load the fireplace with wood and we huddle in for warmth and we sip at rich cups of Uncle Wayne’s hot chocolate. And then, in a few years time, when we’ve financially recovered from the wedding, we’ll buy a house.

“We’ll buy a house and paint it yellow,” he promises. Steve begins to cry, something silent, but can’t pinch his nose to stop himself. “It’ll be yellow because that’s your favorite color. With white shutters. And a big backyard for a dog or two. Wrap around porch so that we can sit and watch the sunrises and sunsets.” He takes a deep breath that sounds a little nasally. “I’ll make you breakfast every morning,” he continues, “serve you a fresh bowl of strawberries, ones that you grow under the big front window of our house. I’ll kiss you all over the face, like I do now, and you’ll grumble that it’s too early and then you’ll smell the bacon and you’ll give me your stupid sleepy smile that makes my heart do funny little flips and you’ll kiss me on the mouth and it’ll be disgusting because you haven’t brushed your teeth.

“And I’ll be a very happy man.” Eddie’s breath trembles in his chest. He swallows hard. Steve wonders if he can hear his own shaky breath. Or if he’s too involved in whatever this is. “I’ll be so happy,” he whispers, “And I’ll find myself thinking, how did I ever get so lucky? But it isn’t luck. And it isn’t fate. It was trauma that forced us together and I’ll laugh about it. But then I’ll sigh because who the fuck cares how we started all of this?

“You’ll be a funky middle school English teacher. With your nicely done hair and a sweater vest and some khakis. I’ll be a musician, hopefully. But, every day you’ll have a small lunch; an orange that I made you peel but I removed the pulp from, a tuna salad sandwich because you’re my fish loving dork, and a bottle of water. I’ll leave you a note everyday telling you how proud I am because I’ve never stopped being proud of you.

“I’m proud of you, Steve, d’you know that? So much.” He laughs wetly. His eyes staring down at their interlocked hands. “All this to say that I’m proud of you. That I’m happy. We’ve got a future, sweetheart. And I want to be your husband. Will you—“ He swallows once more, thick and heavy and almost painful looking. Can love hurt when it’s this sweet?

Eddie finally looks up. His eyes glistening and his cheeks wet and his skin tinted pink. His eyelashes stuck together. Nose dripping only slightly. He’s a messy crier, but Steve doesn’t fare any better. “Will you marry me, Steve? Stay by my side and we’ll accomplish our dreams together?” His voice is soft. Enamored.

Unbelievable, Steve swallows back. Because how did he get somebody like Eddie in his life? How did he manage to find love and have it promised back at him?

“Yes, Eddie,” he gasps out. “God, holy shit.” He drops his hands from Eddie’s hold, instead wrapping them around his torso. Muffled into Eddie’s shoulder, “All this just because I’m finally figuring my shit out? God.”

Eddie cackles, burying his own face in Steve’s hair. They sway a little. “I just—“ Eddie begins whispering. “I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Every time seemed right, but this one? Baby, this one was perfect.”

Steve sighs into the embrace. Content to not say anything else. Except, “I’m proud of you, too, honey. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, love bug. God, Steve, I love you, too.”

For the first time since 1983, Steve allows himself to truly settle in for a future. A future, he knows, he’ll be especially proud of.

💕—————💕 Fun fact, I accidentally deleted this whole ficlet when I was copying and pasting. Hit the spacebar and watched it disappear in front of my eyes. But I figured out how to get it back, not before almost throwing up on myself out of anger. Love y'all <3

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 12 #fluff #domestic fluff #domestic steddie #<3

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theoperativeif · 7 months

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Ari (The Operative short story)

Here is the finish short story! I actually wrote the whole thing with the pronouns switched between Ari and 002, I needed to go back and correct it to make it fit the poll results. But I am so happy to have it finished! Feel free to let me know your thoughts on it.

Enjoy! <3 you all!

(Content warning, all warnings in The Operative demo apply to this as well!)

The specks of far-off stars dotted the viewport, an ethereal canvas of black and purple that seemed to stretch into infinity. No artist, however skilled, could have crafted such a perfect tableau.

"Admiral, the Emperor’s Herald is calling,” First Officer Gallo announced, his large frame eclipsing a swath of console lights. “Should I put it through?”

A hesitant glance swept across Admiral Anderson's crew—faces caught in a blend of darkness and eerie console glow. Custom dictated that a Herald's message be broadcast to the entire ship. But not this time.

“No, this is a private assembly,” Elia instructed, straightening her uniform as a screen unfurled before her, obscuring the cosmic tapestry.

The Imperial Anthem, a bombastic melody woven into the very fiber of her being, filled the ship. As it faded, metal walls isolated Elia from her crew. For a moment, she stood in encompassing darkness before finding herself surrounded by a grand chamber of marble stairs. Virtual figures of obscured Admirals and Generals stood beside her in this ritualistic gathering known as the Emperor's embrace—an event Elia usually avoided.

Slowly, she looked up to the throne above her, where a shadowy figure reclined. A second figure descended the stairs, coming into full view.

“Generals, Admirals, Leaders of the Empire," a voice boomed, blending martial roughness with Capitol sophistication. "The Emperor’s chosen voice, his Herald of guidance, will now address you.”

The Herald appeared—a lithe silhouette veiled in holographic stars and galaxies. As Elia locked eyes with two bright stars, a shiver crawled up her spine. Her own reflection in those stars was a haunting revelation, one that weighed heavily on her conscience.

"Elia," the Herald whispered with unsettling familiarity, "child, what do you wish to ask of the Emperor?”

“Only to thank him for his leadership and blessings,” Elia replied in a rehearsed tone, hearing echoed affirmations from her obscured colleagues.

“The Emperor is displeased with Vanern. They dishonor the very souls they owe him. Examples must be made,” the Herald intoned.

“We need to withdraw from the planet,” General Parcer interjected, his voice breaking the uneasy silence.

Elia winced. The General's defiance made her uncomfortable, yet also resonated with her own suppressed reservations. The general was an imposing figure, with a thinly trimmed mustache and long blue cloak behind him.

“The Emperor commands you to hold the planet,” the Herald cautioned.

Several other Admirals voiced their concerns, echoing that of Parcer.

“What of you, Admiral Anderson?” The Herald's virtual fingers grazed Elia's cheek, adding an unsettling intimacy to the long look they gave her, “Is there not one soul brave enough to stay?”

General Parcer stepped back, a look of hurt pride on his face as he shook his head. Elia sensed the moment's significance—a junction of personal ambition and collective destiny. Her eyes met the Herald’s stars again, but now they shimmered with resolve.

"The Chemical Core and my Operatives can hold the line. If we win the skies, they can win on the ground. General, do you have the stomach for it?" she challenged.

Parcer hesitated, his eyes darting between the Herald and Elia, before exhaling a defeated sigh. "I pray you're right," he said, his voice tinged with resignation.

“The only power that matters is the Emperor’s,” the Herald declared, turning back to Elia with a nod. “Proceed with your plans.”

Five Months Later

The evening winds screamed over the southern plains just outside the city of Mulhat, like vengeful spirits mourning their losses. Once a site for thousands to enjoy the celestial lights, the plains were now a desolate tableau, inhabited only by the dead—or those resigned to join them soon. Six medium Imperial tanks rumbled down the roads, weaving through abandoned vehicles, shallow graves, and the occasional forsaken pet. Flanking and leading them were the remnants of the 7th, their rifles swinging from point to point as if desperate to find a target.

More than a third of them had unmarked armor, but it was caked with the mud of a long march. They were green. Ari frowned at the sight, his eyes narrowing beneath his helmet.

Perched atop the second tank, Ari wiped the dried blood off his helmet with swift, forceful strokes. Around him, no one spoke. What could they say? By some fluke, another day had passed without casualties. Yet an uneasy air hung thick, as if death had merely postponed its visit.

The lead tank juddered to a stop, and the rest of the column followed in an ordered sequence. Ari rolled off the side of his tank and landed softly on the mud-caked earth, eyes scanning as platoons fanned out in every direction.

From an armored carrier at the rear, Captain Carrington surveyed a map. Tall and bespectacled, his impeccable uniform seemed out of place next to his subordinates, whose attire bore the scars of ongoing conflict. Ari had felt uneasy when he took over the 7th two weeks ago; he was too young, his uniform too clean. The original officers had fallen during the first week of operations, leaving NCOs to improvise.

Carrington finally closed his map and approached Ari, a polished smile contrasting sharply with his mud-splattered armor. "Ahead is a town suspected of harboring a small Commonwealth presence," he said, never quite meeting his eyes. "Command wants it cleared and any arms seized from its citizens."

Ari's eyes flicked to the map Carrington was still clutching.

He continued, "I want you to clear it for us. You leave immediately."

Ari stared at him, his gut tightening before he consciously willed himself to relax. This is what he was engineered for.

"Lieutenant Hammond of the Third Platoon interjected, stepping forward. "Sir, Ari's already cleared four towns this week. Maybe we can—"

Carrington cut him off with a glare, his plastic smile returning. "Nonsense. I have the utmost faith in Operative 005."

Ari winced. Hammond had no reason to draw the ire of their greenhorn commander. He gave him a nod of appreciation. His thoughts retreated to his past, to his "mother's" incessant instruction and the tales from 002 about honorable warriors. Tales that now seemed like childish fantasies. He was a soldier. He would obey.

The town that awaited Ari was a mere ten miles up the road—a modest industrial outpost framed by skeletal factories on either side. Once bustling centers of production, they were now hollowed-out relics, victims of the relentless artillery that rained from above.

Ari peered through his rifle scope, his eyes hardened behind the dark visor. The forest that once provided cover had been reduced to smoldering embers and blackened stumps, leaving an unforgiving mile of barren terrain between the town's outskirts and the nearest semblance of shelter.

He had challenged Captain Carrington on his tactics. "How do you expect me to approach the town without cover?" The Captain's response had been a disconcerting smile and a vague assurance: "I'm confident you'll manage."

Suppressing a sigh, Ari activated his suit's cloaking device. A shimmering ripple enveloped his armor, harmonizing with the charred landscape behind him. As he advanced, his suit's sensors fed him real-time data: the air was thick with smoke, but mercifully free of chemical or biological threats. "Good," he thought, recalling a nightmarish scenario where an entire town's air filtration had failed, asphyxiating its inhabitants. He could have easily been one of those children, had fate dealt him a different hand.

His thoughts wandered, as they often did, to questions of origin. Had he come from a lush, verdant world? Or maybe a frozen wasteland? He smiled beneath his visor, imagining a little 002 thriving in a harsh, unforgiving environment. He had always ensured he would too. He was a warrior Ari could only dream of matching.

But not now. Not when 002 was at the frontlines, and he was stuck under the command of an inexperienced captain, showcased like a trophy weapon. He had obeyed his orders dutifully, wading through skirmishes while he observed from a safe distance, his eyes twinkling in unsettling fascination.

He was an instrument of war, and the Captain was merely using him as intended. Yet, a nagging sensation of being wasted gnawed at him. He imagined his "Mother" laughing at him inner turmoil—a cruel, mirthless laugh that echoed in his mind.

Just as he reached the fringes of the town, his steps faltered. A shallow ditch caught his eye. Inside lay five bodies—two women and three men, faces down, their skulls shattered by bullets.

Death had been quick at least.

Grimacing, Ari skirted past the ditch and crept along the side of a nearby building. Its facade bore signs of conflict, scarred by bullets that may have been fired from makeshift firearms.

Taking cover behind some empty supply crates near the corner of the building Ari turned off the cloaking field, letting it recharge for a few minutes in silence.

The wind blew, howling for a moment before settling into silence without any response.

Then Ari heard it. A boot stepping on metal with a fairly heavy thump. Too heavy, Ari thought, slowly raising his rifle and pointing it against the wall of the building. Turning his cloak back on he let his armor scan the building. Noting the fuzziness of the screen he waited.

Some fireteams would carry a scrambler with them to black out a building from an outside fireteams sensors. It was effective except for one issue. A blacked out building also revealed their location.

Ari guessed there must be at least five inside, if there was more then a fire team others would most likely join in after the fight had started.

Ari waited until he heard the last bootstep, then pulled the trigger. With a loud bang his rifle fired easily through the wall, a loud metal ping sounded as he discharged the large casing as she rolled to the side.

A hail of bullets fired through the walls of the shelter. He could imagine each path as time slowed before he let off two more well placed shots.

In a matter of four seconds it was silent.

Breathing heavily Ari waited. Satisfied at the lack of noise Ari moved around, peeking out towards the road running in front of the building. If there were more soldiers here they were doing a good job of not revealing themselves. If they were there Ari didn’t intend to give them the satisfaction of spotting him.

Placing two breach charges on the wall Ari circled around towards the back door. Keying the keypad he opened it, carefully monitoring his sensors.

Room by room he swept, noting the three bodies, large holes blown threw their personal armor, blood coating the metal fragments. Commonwealth Soldiers, he noted from the insignia’s on their shoulders. Bending down he lightly pushed one, noting the armor had been fused together in a custom repair job.

Interesting. he thought, wondering if the Commonwealth was as low on supplies as their Imperial foes were.

He heard the faintest scuff of a boot on flooring.

Diving to the side he barely missed the sword that embedded itself in the floor, it was large with an ornate looking handle. A tall soldier with a curved armored helmet pulled it out of the floor. Standing nearly as tall as him it looked almost like an Operative. A Commonwealth knight. He thought cautiously. Not enhanced. He noted the more clumsy movements.

It raised the sword, pointing it at him in a challenge as several Commonwealth soldiers filed in behind it.

Not waiting, Ari opened fire, letting off two rounds.

The first slammed into the large soldier's helmet, skimming off of it in a wave of sparks. The second blew through the next soldier before continuing on to blow the leg off of his comrade behind him.

There were shouts as Ari rushed behind a wall, bullets striking the space she had just been in.

Calmly aiming at the front door he fired a single round through it, a cry of pain sounding from outside.

Calmly picking the Commonwealth soldiers off with precise shots he, looked around as the wall behind him exploded. Light pops of gunfire outside sounding.

He ducked under the sword of the imposing knight. The next swing he blocked with his rifle, the blade digging into it. The Knights free gloved hand shot out, gripping Ari’s throat in an iron embrace.

Drawing his knife he plunged it in the small gap in the suit by his abdomen, ripping upwards in an arc, warm blood coating his hand.

His armor growled, reinforcing his strength as he tossed Ari across the room. His Rifle clattered to the floor as he gasped for air.

The Knight stumbled, holding the wound.

Flipping the knife over in his hand Ari circled him, making a feint he got him to raise his sword with one hand. Dodging under it he stabbed two more times, once into his armpit and another into the gap on his other side.

He cried out, his armor unable to make up for his failing limbs as he dropped to his knees. The sword clattering to the ground.

Ari walked over, picking his rifle up and quickly checking it over.

Satisfied he stuck the barrel underneath his helmet and fired a single shot.

Blood splattered his face as the helmet was thrown off the knights head.

He sighed, turning and eventually finding the jamming device in the house.

He would clear four more holdouts in the town. Around fifty soldiers in total when he was finished. He sat near the front of the town, cleaning his wounds as the tanks finally crested one of the hills, the marines slowly making their way over to him.

Fireteams passed him silently, sweeping through the buildings long since cleared.

Captain Carrington sat calmly on the last tank as it rolled into town, stepping off of it his boots sank awkwardly into the muddy ground. Ari gently grabbed his arm, keeping him upright, a thought crossing his mind to let the kid fall.

He looked at Ari with a strange mix of embarrassment and anger before shaking his grip off.

“I see you dealt with things adequately enough,” he said, looking back at the tank commander whose head was silently peering out front the top hatch, “get your tanks under some cover, camouflage the ones you can’t get under the overhangs, the Commonwealth might still be sweeping this area with some ground attack aircraft.”

The tank commander nodded, the tank's engine roaring as it was slowly guided by a marine between two buildings and a large camo net was thrown over it.

“Confiscate any communications devices the locals might be in possession of, can’t have them specifying coordinates.”

Ari looked at some of the townspeople with a critical eye. They wore simple clothes, worn and obviously in need of replacement. He walked over to a graying man who had claimed the role as the town's representative.

“There is a grave towards the front of town, who were they?” Ari asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. The man held his gaze, his eyes worn and haunted before shaking his head.

“A family, they objected when a soldier took their daughter for an,” he hesitated, “interrogation.”

They stood in silent understanding. Such things were common.

“We are here to help,” Ari said finally, looking at the man, “I’m Ari.”

“Antonio,” the man said with a practiced smile, “you will forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Those soldiers said the same thing when they came.”

“You are Imperial citizens,” Ari objected, “we would never hope to-”

A shot rang out from somewhere towards the edge of town, Ari looked out as birds scattered from where they had been peering atop buildings. When he turned back to Antonio he saw the man's expression had gone dark with a hint of disappointment before passing him and rushing off towards the gunshot.

Captain Carrington meanwhile paid the gunshot no mind, instead choosing some lodging for the night from a selection of still intact shelters. Ari started to head towards the commotion but stopped as he was waived by the Captain to follow.

Staring down the street as a young man was dragged by two soldiers out into the street Ari hesitated before slowly following after the young Captain. Two gunshots followed. Military caliber. Ari noted silently as a woman's screams of grief replaced the silence.

The Captain arranged with an old woman to ‘rent’ one of her guest rooms, with arrangements for breakfast and coffee in the morning. The woman smiled a merchant's smile, practiced and precise, but Ari noticed the daggers glinting in the dim light as she watched the Captain’s men unload his personal effects into the room.

Ari eventually was allowed to leave without so much as a word said between them. He would be told by a sergeant that a young man whose father was in the Commonwealth army had stowed away a small firearm and had shot one of the officers in the neck. The officer had lived, sporting a bandaged neck by the time Ari finally saw him. The boy on the other hand had been dealt with quickly, his mother given a small sum of money to compensate her.

Ari found himself wondering if he should step in, this boy was obviously unfit to command this unit in pitched combat. Let alone his inability to keep control of the green recruits who looked like they had been plucked straight from the street corners of the red light district.

Ari was shown to his own quarters, a tent hastily erected and guarded by two soldiers, each holding a rifle. It was as if he were both a valued asset and a potential threat.

After changing into a simple shirt and pants, Ari reached for his worn sketchbook and pencil. He took a moment to center himself. Closing his eyes, he thought back to a single, beautiful tree they had passed twenty miles back—a stark contrast to the desolation around his. With gentle strokes, he began sketching the tree's every leaf and branch. As he breathed in deeply, he could almost smell the earth and hear the rustle of leaves, a brief refuge from the harsh reality he faced.

He paused and flipped through the sketchbook's filled pages, each a snapshot of a lost moment or a lingering hope. His eyes stopped at one of his earliest drawings. It was a young woman, her face peaceful yet filled with determination. He felt a lump form in his throat and pressed the drawing against his chest as if trying to absorb its essence.

002, the second Operative created by Mother, had always been his sanctuary in the labyrinth of darkness they called home. He remembered their stolen moments, sitting side by side, staring up at the artificial stars above the lab. While 002 was a girl of few words, her smiles spoke volumes. They were like tiny rebellions, showing a sense of wonder and inner freedom. Ari dared to hope—still hoped—that he occupied some corner of her dreams as well.

She had always been in mine, he thought, his finger tracing the contours of the drawing. Last he heard, she had been deployed somewhere on this war-ravaged planet. A bittersweet hope clung to him; perhaps fate would cross their paths once more.

Just then, one of the guards interrupted his reverie. "Visitor for you, Lieutenant Hammond."

Snapping back to reality, Ari quickly hid the sketchbook under his pillow. "Come in," he called.

Lieutenant Hammond entered, his burly frame barely fitting through the tent flap. His face was etched with a mixture of concern and internal conflict. "What he's doing isn't fair to you," he blurted out, almost as if he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Ari's eyes shifted nervously to the tent flap. "Is this the time or place for this conversation?"

"They agree with me," Hammond reassured, his voice tinged with urgency. "Those of us who've seen enough know this is wrong. You're more than just a weapon—you're one of the Emperor's Chosen Children."

Ari's lips quivered for a moment before he steeled himself. "I am just a weapon," he replied, echoing the cold words that Mother had etched into his very soul. "I exist to die for the Empire, in any way my superiors see fit."

"That's no way to live," Hammond argued, his eyes softening, revealing a paternal concern.

"Operatives don't live; we merely exist between missions," Ari retorted, bitterness lacing his words.

"Don't say that," Hammond insisted, his eyes imploring. "You deserve more, so much more."

Tears welled up in Ari's eyes, but he blinked them back. I am the Emperor's weapon; that's all I will ever be, he reminded himself, fighting back his emotions.

"I'll report the Captain to high command," Hammond declared, getting up from his chair with a newfound resolve.

"No," Ari said softly but firmly, stopping him in his tracks.

Hammond turned, an incredulous look on his face. "No?"

"Do it if you must, but not for me," Ari clarified, his voice tinged with resignation. "If you believe he's a danger to you and your men, report him. But he's just using the resources given to him. I am that resource." As he spoke, he wished he could make himself believe his own words; perhaps then the weight he carried would be a little lighter.

Hammond stared at him, bewildered and heartbroken. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, and exited the tent, leaving Ari alone with his thoughts.

Retreating to his cot, Ari took a deep, shuddering breath. He lay there in the suffocating silence until sleep finally claimed him, bringing with it the haunting dreams that were his constant companions.

Ari opened his eyes to find himself atop a haunting hill, overlooking a forest that seemed almost alive in its dark expanse. The twisted carcasses of tanks and spaceships lay strewn about the hillside like the skeletal remains of fallen giants. Piles of bodies marked the midpoint of the hill, their positions suggesting they'd collapsed against an invisible force field. Ancient ruins clawed their way up from the base of the hill, their tendrils of stone and metal as if reaching for something lost.

Further up the hill, a sparse selection of bodies lay in disarray. He didn't recognize any of them; they were all strangers, perhaps souls who'd been pulled into this morbid tableau against their will.

"Just us, it seems, hmm?" A voice whispered from behind him, chilling him to the bone.

He pivoted, his breath catching in his throat. An enormous, ethereal beam of light shot upwards, splattering the sky in a surreal blend of purple and green. Between him and this spectacle stood a lone figure.

001—the original Operative. It was a monstrous vision, devoid of any shred of humanity, encased in an unholy fusion of bone and silver-colored armor. Its helmet wrapped around his head, with two jagged armor plates that met in a mesh, pulsating like some insectoid maw. Two malevolent, glowing green eyes bored into his very soul.

"Disappointed?" 001 sneered, as if savoring his reaction. "You wouldn't think something like that of 002."

"She is nothing like you," Ari managed, his voice quivering as he took a step back.

"She is exactly like me," 001 cackled, a malevolent sound that made the hill beneath them tremble. "I paved the way for all that is to come. Don't delude yourself. She's walking the same path, right behind me. And so are you."

Ari's breath hitched. No, they were wrong; 002 was nothing like this abomination. She was kind, she was heroic, and above all, she cared about him.

"I cared about someone, too, once," 001 said, its voice suddenly hollow, almost wistful. In a blinding flash, it closed the gap between them, gripping him by the neck and hoisting him into the air like a ragdoll. "Want to know what became of that love? What he will one day do to you?"

Ari's eyes snapped open. He was back in his cot, drenched in cold sweat. His hands shot to his throat; it was untouched, yet the sensation of that iron grip remained. He sank back into his cot, his eyes clenched shut, his heart pounding in his chest. It had felt unbearably, terrifyingly real.

Then again, it always did.

Ari wiped away tears that he hadn't realized he'd shed, and reached for his sketchbook lying next to him. Could his longing for decency be just a child's fantasy? No, it couldn't be.

There was a commotion outside, shouts of anger and one of terror. Ari jumped from his cot, snatching his rifle easily off its rack and rushing outside. His two guards had their rifles at the ready and quickly fell into step with his. Captain Carrington exited his own quarters, a look of bewilderment on his face as he wrapped a brown cloak around his sleep attire.

Several marines were aiming their weapons at a group of townspeople who held a marine with a knife to his throat. On the ground was a woman, her face bruised, crying and shaking, beside her was a marine, a gunshot wound through his chest.

“Lower your weapons god damn it!” Carrington ordered, his voice not carrying the order properly over the chaos.

“Lower your weapons now!” Ari ordered, his voice carrying easily as the marines obeyed, shouldering their firearms.

Carrington cast an unreadable look towards him before focusing back on the marines and townspeople.

“What's the meaning of this?” He asked, looking expectantly at his marines.

“Your man drunkenly attacked one of our women,” Antonio said, a dark look on his face as he glared at the young Captain, “when his comrade intervened he shot him!”

Ari’s fingers tapped his combat knife, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it.

“Is this true?” Carrington looked at the sergeant who looked down before nodding his head.

“Seems to be Captain, luckily people intervened,” the Sergeant looked down shamefully, two other veterans nodded their heads, though several objections were raised by several of the younger marines.

Captain Carrington seemed lost for a moment, looking between the townspeople, their faces filled with a mixture of anger and expectation and his marines who seemed disappointed he would even consider taking the townsfolk side.

“Take him in front of my quarters,” Carrington said quietly, waving for the marines to take him, “whats, whats his name?”

“Private Summers Sir,” the Sergeant replied simply.

The man holding the marine at knife point lowered the blade, allowing the two closest marines to grab both of his arms.

The two groups followed the Captain back to his quarters. Ari followed him inside quietly. He watched as he suddenly started shaking as he searched through his makeshift work desk, scattering papers and data pads across it. He seemed to be searching for something specific.

He eventually found it, reading over something on his datapad. He read some parts out loud, but only in pieces.

“If a soldier in his service should…”

“Discretion of commanding officer…”

“Carried out by company…”

Afterwards he pulled up the accused man's military record, he tapped on several other incidents reported.

He shakily put the pad down, hanging his head with a loud sigh before straightening himself and walking back outside.

He walked over to the Sergeant, speaking quietly so the townspeople could not hear him.

“Sergeant, tie him to that post over there,” Captain Carrington said, drawing his pistol and examining it carefully, he was pale now. His hand barely able to properly secure the weapon, he looked at his marines doing his best to make his voice strong, “we are the Emperor’s marines, we conduct ourselves according to the Imperial Codex of War, and any breaking of that should result in a tribunal of the accused. However when one commits such an act in a warzone and may endanger the lives of others the commanding officer may carry out an execution.”

The townspeople had gone silent, meanwhile whispers and grumbling broke out among the marines. Lieutenant Hammond and the Sergeant quickly quelled the murmurs, their own opinions hidden behind serious faces.

Private Summers struggled against the two marines dragging him, “fuck you Captain, you spineless piece of shit!”

The Captain had gone silent, pistol gripped in his hand. Once the man was tied to the post the Captain raised his pistol, and nothing. The Captain’s hand was shaking as he gripped the pistol. Silence had fallen over the area.

The private, perhaps sensing the Captain’s weakness, began to silently sneer in contempt.

Ari flexed his hands, looking at the Captain before slowly looking over the crowd. If he didn’t carry out his declared sentence now not only would the town scorn them but the marines under his command would be even more likely to commit acts against the populace.

His mothers voice popped into his head. One of the instructions given to an Operative was to be the weapon at their betters disposal. Perhaps the Captain was overlooking him as an option.

He took several steps forward to be beside the Captain before leaning over, “I would be honored to carry out the sentence.”

The Captain spun on him, eyes flashing anger before he noticed the doubting faces of the crowd around them. Something else flashed in his eyes as he looked between Ari and the private. Ari blinked in surprise, was that hatred he saw?

“Yes, I think that would be better,” the Captain said, raising his head in a failed attempt at maintaining dignity as he handed the pistol to Ari, “once in the head please.”

Ari turned, squeezing the trigger and firing a single round straight through the mans skull. He slumped instantly, with Ari nodding in satisfaction at the shot. He handed the pistol back to the Captain who merely stared at him.

“Everyone disperse!” Lieutenant Hammond bellowed as he turned to the crowd.

After that fateful evening, an eerie silence settled over the town for the next few days. However, on the fourth day, the tranquility was shattered when a sealed communique arrived for the Captain. Ari and Hammond received orders to report to the Captain's quarters immediately. As they approached the worn wooden door, Ari thanked the elderly homeowner who greeted them with a resigned smile before opening the door.

Stepping inside, they found themselves in a room heavy with the scent of tobacco and aged leather. The Captain sat at his worn desk, the dim glow from a desk lamp illuminating his pale face as he fixated on a datapad.

Ari felt a knot tighten in his stomach, and he exchanged a puzzled look with Hammond before the Captain looked up and acknowledged their presence.

"The 14th and 9th have been annihilated in a counteroffensive. We're being rotated to the front lines to support the 22nd," he disclosed, his voice tinged with an anguish that he couldn't hide. "New officers are coming in to take the 7th from me."

A mix of dread and anticipation filled the room. Hammond, trying to cut through the tension, chimed in. "Well, at least our boys will finally see some heavy combat. I'll get the officers assembled."

With a curt nod, Hammond exited, leaving Ari alone in the stifling atmosphere of the room. The Captain leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long, shaky breath before breaking into an unsettling laugh.

"You planned this somehow," he slurred, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid from under the table and taking a defiant swig. "Your kind always finds a way to win, don't they?"

"Sir, I don't understand," Ari said cautiously, flinching as the bottle flew past his face, shattering against the dark wooden wall and leaving a wet stain.

"Don't feign innocence. From day one, you've played the role of the shining warrior, haven't you?" His eyes narrowed, and he staggered to his feet, gripping the edge of the table for support. "All along, you've been subtly undermining me. Turning my men and this town against me. Your entire kind is just twisted, isn't it?"

Ari felt his pulse quicken, his mouth going dry. In a moment of candid emotion, he retorted, "You've done that yourself."

As the words escaped his lips, Ari froze. Why had he said that? What would happen now?

The Captain stared at him, and for a fleeting moment, Ari thought he saw a glimmer of realization cross his eyes—but then it was gone, replaced by an even deeper darkness.

“You,” he snarled uselessly as he sat back in his chair, “get out of my sight monster.”

Several hours later they had set off, leaving the town behind them.

Ari reclined in his seat as the armored transport rumbled inexorably toward the frontline. Streams of civilians—the collateral damage of war—fled in the opposite direction. Their faces were etched with haunted expressions that Ari knew he'd remember for a lifetime. A few children, perhaps too young to grasp the gravity of their situation, waved at the passing soldiers. Ari mustered a smile and waved back, but his eyes couldn't help but shift to the metamorphosing landscape outside.

Once verdant fields and dense, peaceful forests were now marred by the scars of war. What had once resembled a pastoral painting was now more akin to a nightmarish hellscape. The earth was gouged open, as if it too had suffered wounds, with mud oozing out like brown, coagulated blood. Deep trenches dissected the land, and the carcasses of tanks and even entire aircraft lay sunken in the mire, forgotten monuments to failed human endeavor.

The landscape brought an unbidden thought to the forefront of his mind: What hell had 002 been enduring out here? A wave of guilt washed over him, complicating his earlier feelings of dissatisfaction with his assignment. He had been pouting about his orders, resenting his inexperienced Captain, and feeling underutilized. But was he not, at that very moment, headed toward the place he felt he should be? A place where he could be of real use? And yet, even that idea felt tinged with a selfish desire—to find 002, to ensure he was alright, to fight by his side just like they had in what felt like another lifetime.

Ari closed his eyes briefly, wrestling with the confusing medley of emotions that churned within him. He felt a strange amalgam of guilt for wanting more action, worry for the woman who had always stood by him, and a newfound, unsettling empathy for the people whose lives had been upturned by this war.

His eyes widened further as they drove past the artillery units. Mammoth cannons, engineering marvels that belied their grim purpose, launched rocket-assisted shells that could traverse several hundreds of miles. The ground itself seemed to tremble with the concussive force of each shot, sending a primal shiver down Ari's spine.

Adjacent to the artillery were the repair units, swarming with engineers and technicians. They buzzed around damaged fighter craft, each a casualty of the dangerous aerial ballet occurring far above them. Sparks flew, welding torches flared, and the scent of hot metal filled the air as these units labored to return their birds to the sky, and into the maw of the ongoing conflict.

Inside the transport, the atmosphere had become thick with tension. Ari looked around and noticed the stark transformation in his comrades. The new recruits, previously flushed with the naïve excitement of youth, had turned ashen. Their eyes darted nervously, and their faces held a greenish tint, as if the reality of war had settled in their stomachs and was threatening to come back up.

As if on cue, their own artillery began its relentless cacophony. The initial hiss of rockets and shells slicing through the air resonated in the confined space, cutting through the tension like a knife. Several marines flinched visibly, their eyes widening and jaws tightening.

For a split second, the sounds vanished, swallowed by the void before them, leaving an eerie silence. Then, the far-off booms reached their ears, each explosion a ghostly echo that seemed to reverberate in the very marrow of their bones.

Ari remained silent as the transport finally crossed the final miles to arrive at the front.

Hopping out, Ari turned, pausing to look above. Hundreds of ships, small shapes far above were visible, dashes of light flashing as the two fleets far above battled. Hundreds of streaks of light were across the sky, rockets striking all parts of the battlefield around him.

And what a horrible sight it was, miles of mud, pockets of water and black dirt kicked up at random without the faintest hint of green to be seen. In between the dark mud, smaller pockets of light lit up as gunfire and laserfire intermixed, smoke constantly rolling over the entire area as far as Ari’s eyes could see.

Ari and the 7th crossed even more miles only just beginning to approach the front. A constant stream of dead or dying soldiers were carried past them on stretchers, the cries and explosions intermixing into a chorus rising up all around them. The sound felt suffocating, as if it was closing around Ari’s throat. Overhead fighters flew past, firing into positions they couldn’t see. Some were hit by flak, rolling over and hitting the ground in a faint explosion.

Somewhere far off something exploded, shaking the very ground so much so that soldiers lost their footing, collapsing to the floor.

Miles off to their right Ari could see the glowing green wave of chemical smoke crashed over a Commonwealth position. Ari fiddled with his mask, making sure its filtration was functioning correctly.

Marines marched back past them with cracked armor, missing limbs and some missing most of their armor entirely. The looks on their faces were haunted, young men and women with lines now aging their faces beyond recognition.

The Imperial defensive positions were layered in four overlapping lines. Two lines carefully positioned in the center had a shock group backed by two battalions of marines positioned seventy yards behind them. Behind that reserve was an enormous trench nearly fifty yards wide and several miles long. Smaller transports could reposition behind the lines without exposing themselves to fire.

To the right and left were the other two lines of troops, these dug in defensive positions with multiple overlapping fields of fire nearly across the entire line. Some positions even had tanks sunk up to their turrets to provide a sort of pillbox support. Further past the lines were hundreds of scattered foxholes serving as forward posts to delay enemy advances.

In front of all of them was the target the generals coveted. The city of Proko. Its ruins were barely visible in the distance through the haze.

Imperial bombardment had long since brought the once towering skyscrapers down.

Ari ducked as a violent explosion shattered the air, hurling a forty-foot-wide wave of mud skyward before it came crashing down like a filthy rain. Amid the chaos, Ari could hear the grotesque sound of mud mixed with human remains slapping back onto the earth—punctuated by the grinding of armored vehicles repositioning. Shouts of agony and confusion erupted all around him.

Nearby, an officer stumbled through the mire, his eyes glazed over with shock, his arm missing from the elbow down. He frantically dug through the mud, sifting through an indistinguishable blend of earth and human remains.

"I lost my ring," he mumbled, his eyes unfocused as though seeing through time itself. "Can't lose that. Can't lose that."

The words struck Ari like a bullet.

With a wave of his hand, Ari signaled a corpsman. "Stay with me," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on the disoriented soldier's shoulder. "We'll take care of you first, then we'll find your ring."

A glimmer of relief passed through the soldier's eyes as the corpsman arrived, directing them toward the medical tent. Ari's armor made light work of the injured man's weight. As he carried him, his eyes remained peeled on the churned earth they traversed.

After laying him carefully on a cot in the medical tent, Ari turned away, his chest heavy with a sense of inadequacy. He was trained to be an Operative—to fight, to survive, but moments like these reminded him of the limitations of his role.

Unable to let go of the soldier's distress, Ari decided to make one more sweep of the battlefield, assisting medics in carrying another wounded soldier back to the tent. Each face he encountered was a blur, but his mission was clear. Amidst the rubble and remains, his eyes caught a glint of metal. Bending down, he unearthed a mud-caked ring.

Ari returned to the medical tent, hope welling up in him as he approached the soldier, who was now being attended to by medics. He placed the ring into his remaining hand, closing his fingers around it.

His eyes met Ari’s, filled with a complex mix of relief, sorrow, and something indescribable. For the first time that day, Ari felt a tiny fracture in the wall of helplessness that had encased him.

"Thank you," he whispered, clutching the ring as if it were his very soul.

Ari nodded, swallowing hard against the emotional lump in his throat. "Hang on to it.”

Eventually, Ari caught up with the 7th, a battalion now rotated up to occupy the first line of defense—or offense, depending on the ever-shifting tides of battle. The 7th was the vanguard, the first to either storm enemy lines or hold their ground against an incoming assault. Even in the cloak of night, squads from the 7th began to disperse, their forms almost spectral as they waded through the mud-cloaked nightmare, reinforcing the foxholes that served as crucial early-warning posts.

But the night was deceptive, never truly dark. It was a canvas incessantly invaded by artificial light, robbing soldiers of the cover darkness might have provided. Flares arced into the sky at irregular intervals, their fizzling ascents followed by an eruption of glaring light that rendered the landscape in sharp, ominous relief. Star shells burst overhead, showering the earth in iridescent hues of blue and white, turning mud puddles into tiny, reflective lakes and casting eerie, elongated shadows on the faces of the troops. Explosions from artillery and grenades added their own erratic lighting, a pyrotechnic display that would have been mesmerizing if not for its blinding effects. These detonations painted the scene in flashes of orange, imbuing everything and everyone with a surreal, otherworldly glow. The intermittent lighting made the mud seem like a flowing river of lava one moment and a desolate lunar landscape the next.

During one of those blinding bursts of light from overhead flares, a piercing alarm cut through the cacophony. Soldiers jolted from their positions, their faces twisted with a blend of readiness and terror. Ari snatched up his rifle, his senses sharpening as he took his position behind an armored shield that topped the trench.

Through the slotted visor, he saw it—something monstrous darting between the foxholes. It was immense, nearly as long as two tanks laid end-to-end, its long tail shimmering in silver and blue light. An advanced Commonwealth warbot, its body like that of a dragon. His gut clenched as bullets pinged off its metallic hide. In retaliation, the warbot whirled, letting loose a barrage of mini-rockets that silenced the foxholes in a spectacle of fire and gore. The screams that followed were guttural, filled with a primal fear that rattled even the most hardened soldiers around him.

But what sent shivers down Ari's spine was the figure mounted atop the warbot. Clad in shining armor of silver and blue that matched its monstrous steed, the knight-like figure sported a single twisted metal horn on his helmet. He brandished a spear, its shaft alive with undulating lights of green, blue, and red. It looked as though it were forged from nightmares and technology, giving it an ethereal yet sinister aura.

The 7th and 22nd opened fire alongside others, tracer rounds arcing through the night, illuminated by the perpetual light show. But they might as well have been firing pebbles. Ari watched as the bullets merely bounced off, as harmless as raindrops. He took aim at the rider, his sights focused on a vulnerable spot between the arm and breastplate. He pulled the trigger.

A brilliant flash erupted, and the rider was hurled from the warbot, tumbling through the air before landing in the mud with a sickening thud.

For a moment, Ari allowed himself a brief grin. But it was short-lived. With a mechanical roar that seemed to shake the very earth, the warbot surged forward, its limbs churning the mud as if it were water. Soldiers screamed, scrambling in a panic, some trapped in the slick mire as the monstrous machine lunged into the trench.

Ari threw himself back just in time, the beast landing where he had stood just moments before. Its mechanical eyes glowed a menacing red, scanning for its next target. Around him, soldiers from the 7th froze, the horror of what they faced rendering them momentarily paralyzed.

A deafening burst of gunfire erupted from the 22nd Marines, snapping the immobilized soldiers out of their trance. The warbot spun on its axis, extending long blades from its chassis. In an instant, the trench transformed into a grisly blender, whirling metal through air and flesh.

Ari executed a rapid roll, squeezing the trigger to fire rounds into the beast's exposed joints. A nearby flak gun swiveled, its operator focusing on the warbot. With thunderous thunks, the gun spat flak rounds into the behemoth's side.

For a split second, the warbot wavered under the relentless barrage. But then the flak gun fell silent. Whirling around, Ari cursed—he saw the knight, now on foot, finishing off the last member of the flak crew. He vaulted into the trench beside him.

Darting backward, Ari dodged his whirling spear. Then he switched tactics, drawing a pistol and snapping off two shots. His armor absorbed the bullets, but he felt the impact like a sledgehammer to his chest.

Behind him, the warbot's roars resounded, mingling with the screams of dying soldiers. Firing his rifle, Ari targeted the knight's leg, bringing him to one knee. With a quick lunge, he overpowered him, forcing the spear against his throat. Metal shrieked against metal; his suit whined, struggling to compensate for his superior strength.

Suddenly, a searing pain erupted in his shoulder. Metallic jaws clamped down, wrenching him away. Ari unleashed a furious scream, his hands clawing at the warbot's maw.

The knight rose, his spear poised for the kill. But then he froze. Ari, too, heard it—the ground-shaking rumble, like a tank but deeper, angrier. The warbot released him, turning to face the new threat.

Ari scrambled aside just as a brilliant flash rocketed past him. It struck the knight, hurling him through the air before he crashed into the muck. His heart leapt—standing there was 002, encased in hulking battle armor, the gauntlets of her suit still smoking.

Cheers erupted from the soldiers. Their elation, however, was cut short. The warbot lunged at 002, its gaping maw aiming to devour her. But it was halted mid-air, its jaws pried open by 002's immense strength.

Marines of the 22nd wheeled the flak gun back into position, aiming directly into the warbot's vulnerable spots as 002 held it in place and firing at point-blank range. The knight had regained his footing and hurled his spear, skewering two marines. Unfazed by their losses, the crew kept firing. Seizing the moment, Ari lunged at the knight, tackling him into the slippery mud.

With a feral snarl, Ari unleashed a punch that shattered the knight's visor. Staggering, he tried to regain his stance. But before he could move, his own spear flew through the air, sticking him to the ground like a gruesome butterfly pinned to a board.

Silence fell over the trench, periodically interrupted by cries from the wounded. Soldiers from the reserve trench behind them quickly poured into the area, preparing for a possible follow up attack.

Ari stood silently over the Knight body. He had been stronger than any knight he had fought before. He heard 002 approaching behind him and shivered, 001’s words echoing in his mind.

She is exactly like me. They had said.

No, Ari thought, feeling his heart tighten in both anticipation and fear as 002 stopped right behind him.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

"You did well," she finally said, her voice tinged with a metallic resonance from her helmet.

Ari almost laughed as he turned around. "Well? Two minutes later, and the whole trench would've been a graveyard."

002 removed her helmet, revealing a face that was as stoic as her armor. Her eyes met his. "But it isn't. That's what matters."

She reached out, her gauntleted hand heavy on his shoulder where the warbot had clamped its jaws. The touch was surprisingly gentle for such a massive suit of armor. "You're hurt."

Ari shrugged, trying to downplay the soreness that was now settling in. "We’ve been through worse."

For a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes—relief, maybe, or concern. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. Instead she gestured with her head for him to follow.

The medic wrapped up Ari's wound and declared him fit to continue, 002 watched him, her face unreadable. The fluorescent lights in the medical tent seemed to bathe everything in a cold, sterile glow, but the atmosphere changed perceptibly when she led him outside.

The officers' quarters were a far cry from luxury, dug directly into the muddy earth and consisting of little more than a cot and a small desk. The walls were reinforced with corrugated metal, lending a harsh industrial feel to the space. Yet, when Ari turned around, he was surprised to find 002 still standing at the entrance.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, an unusual display for someone who usually radiated certainty. Then she placed her helmet on a makeshift shelf by the door. For the first time that evening, her eyes met his and softened.

"Good to see you," she began, her voice catching just a little, "I was worried that..." She trailed off, shaking her head as if unable to find the words.

Ari felt a warmth bloom in his chest at his unspoken sentiment. "Yeah," he replied, his own voice softer than he'd intended, "me too."

For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. Then, as if guided by some mutual understanding, 002 stepped forward and pulled him gently into her arms. Even through the fabric of his uniform and his armor, he could feel the heat of her body.

Their foreheads touched, the simple point of contact sending a shiver down his spine.

Ari closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the embrace. And for a moment, surrounded by mud, metal, and the remnants of war, he found a pocket of peace.

And it was enough.

#if: the operative #the operative #the operative short story #lore

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dogfight-if · 1 year

Text

Demo TBA

Fantasy/Romance

Windwood is an interactive fiction game following you as you go on a quest to prevent the end of the world. You play as the youngest of a minor noble family in the fae city of Premxine.

Surrounded by the forest of Windwood, the city is covered, hidden from the human kingdoms. After an attack, you flee the city and forest with three companions to warn the king of a threat.Face to face with your own mortality, you must put a stop to that which poses a danger to the world as you know it. Do what you will, but know that failure will result in an untimely death.

With a long time best friend, a loyal protector, a fierce beast, a prince, princess, noblewoman, a priestess, an angel, a fae hunter, and even an ex-friend turned dark lord, there’s no shortage of romance.

Features

Play as male, female, or somewhere in the non-binary range. Cis, trans, or intersex.

Customize your character to the max with extra unnatural features.

Romance or befriend one of 10 characters, including the dark lord you must defeat.

Uncover the secrets of the gods- or god.

Discover the garden of Eden.

Develop skills in fighting, politics, intelligence, leadership, or stealth.

Choose from 8 different hobbies to pursue.

Dabble in magic, wield a sword, or both if you’re an overachiever.

Get betrayed. Twice.

Survive life threatening injuries.

Find out what you really are.

Romance Options

The Best Friend

Marian Moller (M. he/him)

“As long as i’m here you’ll be safe, i promise,”

Marian, the best friend and prince of Premxine. Marian Moller is fiercely loyal and stubborn, having always been there for you no matter what. To everyone else he’s brash and irresponsible, but you know that’s not the case.

At 5’7, Marian has short, curly pink hair and yellow eyes. He has tan skin, sharp teeth, and has often been said to have an almost childlike face. Marian also has long, pointed ears with feathers framing them.

The Dark Lord

Ness Lodima (M. he/they)

“What have we become? I never wanted this to happen,”

The estranged childhood friend turned evil dark lord. Previously a softhearted optimist, what Ness had been put through changed him. When you knew him as a child he was training to be a druid, but it seems his plans have changed.

5’9, long wavy blond hair with matching yellow eyes, fair skin spotted with freckles. His ears may not be as pointed as any other fae, but they are pointed nonetheless.

The Angel

Foster (M. he/him)

“God never saved me, never helped me when I needed it most, so why should I believe?”

The angel that doesn’t believe in god with repressed memories of heaven. Foster is the holy statue at the church of Andermyne. Short in both height and temper, it’s easy to rile him up, but maybe a more gentle approach is what you need. Foster is key in your plans to stop the end, but can he be convinced to help?

Foster has short fluffy black hair, olive skin with a smattering of scars, and dark brown eyes. Foster stands at 5’2 with a wingspan twice that length. Over his right eye is a large scar that resembles stone cracking.

The Prince

Casimir Kozanaft (M. he/him)

“I do what i must, and if that’s getting rid of you, so be it,”

As the human prince of Afturella, Casimir has a reputation to uphold. With all eyes on him, he can’t afford a slip-up. Taking care of his younger sister Sonja and younger brother Myla, Casimir has his hands full. As independent as ever, Casimir is fully capable of taking charge.

Casimir is 5’8 with shoulder length auburn hair he keeps tied back. He has soft hazel eyes and tan skin with a mole under his left eye. Casimir is commonly said to look pretty, almost like a girl.

The Ranger

Amihan (M. he/they)

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, i’ve got you”

Your protector, the sylph ranger. Amihan’s only goal is to keep you and your group alive, even if it’s at the expense of their own life. With a martyr complex and no regard for human life, Amihan makes a great bodyguard, not so much a great friend.

6’4, smooth brown skin, curly white hair and silver eyes, Amihan is often described as imposing, towering over most. Over his left eye Amihan has a black sylph tattoo, spiraling over.

The Beast

Freyja (F. she/they)

“Don’t touch me, don’t go near me, don’t even look at me,”

Freyja is a wild thing. Living in the Windwood forest, she’s been isolated for so long. She rejects humanity, fighting against all she sees until there is only peace. Hostile and aggressive, Freyja sees nothing in you, but can you change their mind? All she is may just be a damaged soul.

Freyja is 5’5, with long, curly chestnut hair and fierce yellow eyes. If you catch her smiling you’ll see sharp canines. She has light brown skin, spotted with white freckles. Leaves and twigs tangled in her hair around tall antlers. Freyja has ash speared across her eyes and covering her hands.

The Princess

Sonja Kozanaft (F. she/her)

“You don’t know me, stop acting like you do,”

A stone faced, cold hearted woman who only cares about herself. Sonja is closed off and aloof, not wanting to open her heart up. Sonja doesn’t trust easily and her default response to anything is disbelief. Sonja seems like an ice queen, but is there more to it?

5’6, Sonja looks as royal as she is. Sonja has long wavy blonde hair, spotless fair skin, and blue eyes.

The Huntress

Maeryn (F. she/her)

“Such a shame you’re fae, i would’ve loved to have you as my partner,”

Maeryn is what most would call ruthless or crazy. So much blood is on her hands but she’s proud of the fact. Her words can be sharp, but they can also be sweet. You never truly know what’s on her mind, hard to read and conniving. Once she likes someone, she sticks to them, ever so loyal. Is there a motive behind her actions?

The tallest out of the bunch, Maeryn stands at 6’6. She has long blonde locs, violet eyes, and brown skin.

The Priestess

Lumina Durren (F. she/they)

“May Andermyne bless your kind soul,”

Lumina is a kindhearted priestess in the church of Andermyne. Everything she does is gentle- the way her hands clasp together in prayer, even when she lifts a book she treats it with the care you would give an animal. The caretaker of the church’s orphanage, they teach the kids that have nobody left to turn to. But in good, there is always evil.

Lumina is 5’3, with long curly ginger hair, two front strands blonde. She has green eyes and pale skin. With her priestess outfit you can see a four pointed star tattoo on her collarbone.

The Noble

Eliana Derlot (F. she/her)

“Don’t say that, I gave you what you wanted, didn't I?”

Lady of House Derlot, Eliana knows her way around the intricacies of the court. Used to facades and snakes, Eliana has a hard time believing things said, yet values honesty at the same time. The young Lady knows what she wants and how to get it, making her a valuable addition.

Eliana is 5’7, with long wavy brown hair and tanned skin. She has sea green eyes with a mole under her left.

#interactive fiction #interact if #windwood #twine if #IF #interactive novel #fantasy #romance #IF novel #intro post

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sammyhasspammy · 2 months

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Switcheroo Brainstorming

I'm making an role reversal au! I'm going to post this along with my posts for Viva, Poppy, and Branch specifically, which you can find by clicking on their names! Here's some ideas I have:

So Branch and Poppy are basically going to be full-on switching lines, though their backstories will be very different cause... it's kinda hard to replace 4 people with 1 sister and a father. So band together is going to be the most different! More details in the individual posts for the characters

I want "Better Place" to be replaced with "It Takes Two" for the final confrontation in TBT :)

Not all characters are going to be switch 1-to-1. Again, the brothers are going to be hard to switch for. Also, not all characters readily have someone to replace them with

There will be a lot of trollstopia characters that will be in the world tour switch, but they'll mostly have the personalities of the trolls they switch with so watching the show isn't a must (But i still recommend both shows, they're pretty fun!)

Most of the troll tribe leaders will be replaced with a trollstopia character, EXCEPT for Queen Essence and King Quincy cause I need them to be in those roles. They'll just change lines and outfits maybe?

I have no idea what to do with the bounty hunters so if you have a recommendation id love to hear it!

There's not much to say other than character switches which will be put under the cut cause it'll be a long list. If you have any recommendations or questions, hit up my ask box!

Character Switches:

Branch ↔ Poppy

Gristle ↔ Bridget

Biggie ↔ Creek

Creek’s Mr Dinkle would be the little bug thing that makes him fly in canon

Satin and Chenille (Their names also change order and they switch which side they're usually on cause I think that's fun) ↔ DJ Suki

Guy Diamond ↔ Sky Toronto

Tiny Diamond doesn't have a counterpart so he's just kinda the same

Copper ↔ Darnell (personalities don't change only backstories)

Smidge ↔ Milton (not sure if I want to change their personalities or just professions... a loud vet and a sweet bodybuilder sounds fun)

Chad and Todd ↔ Chef (Not sure if I should change her name or just keep her as Chef)

Peppy ↔ JD

Cloud Guy ↔ Janet

Barb ↔ Val

Thrash ↔ Val's unnamed father that shows up for one frame in "Flyer's Ed" (Trollstopia season 4 episode 4b)

Riff ↔ Demo

Sid Fret ↔ Blaze (their personalities do not change, just their roles)

Carol ↔ Petra

Since there's no rock child Amp just kinda hangs around and takes the roll of that random rock kid in "Val Serves Murray Duty" (Trollstopia season 7 episode 6b)

Holly ↔ Delta Dawn (no personality change)

Growley Pete ↔ Gust

Pigtail is the one who bites Poppy instead of Clampers. Again, with Clampers there's no child country troll so she's just... around.

Minuet ↔ Wolfgang Trollzart

Dante ↔ Beetrollven

Not 100% sure what I wanna do with the show's funk trolls yet. It's either switch Lownote with Groovetavius and switch R&B with each other, OR have R switch with Lownote, B switch with Groovetavius

For the techno trolls it's going to be a triangle. Laguna-> Trollex -> Synth -> Laguna. The reason for this is changing Trollex and Synth would be too similar, and would leave Laguna with no one (Except for Bliss Marina)

Velvet ↔ Veneer

Crimp ↔ Ritz

The other BroZone members don't really have counterparts. Clay and Bruce stay mostly the same while Floyd joins the rock trolls.

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zelenbug · 4 months

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heres something incredible niche. with the help of raymap i spent a few hours making an entire height chart of almost all the characters and creatures (and a plum) in rayman 3, minus the absolute largest ones

heres the whole thing uncropped (12.8 mb, 26270x2383)

and here it is condensed into like the most important individual characters

(and that link too, 7010x2035)

below is some notes about it, a whole bunch of rambling and stuff, i put a lot of effort into this so check this out

this is taken with raymap by looking at each map in the orthographic front view, relocating every object i need to -1500 Y position with 0 for everything else (minus x position just so they could be side by side). the rotation and scale is all set to 1. almost all of the objects are the first frame of their idle animation

only exceptions for the rotation were CagouFlaps (hoodloon), francesco (red bird), piranha and Dirigible, all for convenience. one of the refluxes (the fight one with the glowy face) is also an exception to the animations thing, hes using the first frame of an animation different from his idle one so he stood more upright

the arrangements i took were like this. i had to take 43 screenshots like this (with the transparent screenshot option) and then align them using rayman as an anchor, as i included him in every screenshot

the fact that they were all at the same exact Y position is why the characters are sometimes slightly below or slightly above where the floor is supposed to be, thats just how the object is positioned in the game itself basically and i chose to leave that in. i ignored that for my height sorting though

i didnt use all screenshots, i just excluded everything that was larger than a mawpaw because the filesize in this chart was already large enough. im not bloating them with something that was likely going to end up well over 10k pixels tall and wide

i also excluded a bunch of inanimate objects like piggy banks and gems and cages and stuff, but i have screenshots with them

i also straight up forgot francesco so its not in the chart. but heres its size relative to rayman, probably would have been between the orange glowy fairy and either a grim or andre

this slightly tinier colorful hoodmonger is just from the final boss fight, which is a separate object family from the three other types of hoodmonger (which are all actually the same family)

the other fairy thingy (luisane) got kinda botched in the transparent screenshot so i just screenshotted it how it appeared in raymap itself directly so it has a black background. also i know the rat looks really weird, its just Like That its not modeled on the bottom, in retrospect i really should have rotated that one sideways too

the flabar/bonton has wings but theyre solid white (bc the texture for them is actually missing in final, one of the demos had them) and they blended into the background oops. heres a snippet from a larger transparent version of the chart

the way i actually sorted all the heights is i generally ignored stuff like hair and hats, thats why some teensies ended up being outright taller than rayman

also yeah i dont know why specifically generic teensies are so tiny compared to all the other ones. my guess is that their size was just leftover from the previous games and didnt account for the ones original to rayman 3 being scaled up, or something?

i love the teensy heights in this though i love that some are taller than rayman and the apparent slight variety present in their heights (even if you cant tell it at all and theyre all shaped the same really)

anyway i also unfortunately had to leave some guys out since i just couldnt move their objects for some reason, those being -iceglob (globox stuck in a block of ice unsurprisingly enough) -sk8guard (the teensy that catches you in teensy highways) -ProjCanon (thingy that you have to aim at celoche to damage it) -wbug (little bugs that are in bog of murk supposedly but i never saw them outside of raymap)

oh well i can finangle a way to get them out of perspective view i hope

#rayman #i was so tempted to leave one of the doctors out of the condensed chart like why do i have to include the racist teensy nooo #ANYWAY hopefully this is useful or interesting to anyone??????

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foxfinches · 11 months

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Do you think you could possibly summarise what was said in the Clark Stacey interview if you don't mind? I'm struggling to follow and understand it without subtitles sadly

NO SAME. listening to the ajc segment (especially the latter half) was super difficult with the loud music overlaying it and the instagram video player not having a rewind feature. so.... i sat down and transcribed it! there might be some "uh's" and "um's" i missed near the end, but it should be mostly accurate to everything he said. read it below the cut!

I'm Clark Stacey, I'm the, uh, ceo of Wildworks, and, uh, I'm, uh… Gosh, what would my relationship t- to Animal Jam be? Uh, benevolent overlord? I guess? Maybe? Do people have questions about Classic? Really? [laughs] I saw your thread, and it's seemed like classic players are uh- are very active and have a lot that they want to know. Um, well let me- let me cover a couple of things, I think the last time that you and I talked, we talked about some of the difficulties with adding content to classic and… Just the way It's put together. But, very quickly for those who are- are not familiar, um, uh- Classic was a browser-based flash game, uh, flash is no longer supported by browsers, and is generally frowned upon by the big tech companies out there. So the only way to continue running Classic on your desktop computer, is to put it in this software wrapper called Electron, and Electron basically, uh, contains a mini web browser in it, and it runs… Animal Jam in a contained web browser environment on your computer. Uh, it- it kind of slows some of the performance down, it's not a great solution, but it's uh, it enables um, us to continue playing it. It-it compounds the difficulty of putting new stuff in Classic, because for… For flash games, and the way that we made Classic, was we would take 3D models of animals, and characters, and then we would render out 2D animation frames, um, and the reason that we did that, because flash is a 2D uh, animation program, but uh- The reason we did that is because we can create this kind of cool 3D look to the characters, um, but then have them- have our software spit out uh, 2D frames. So that means that for every item… Thousands upon thousands of items that is in Animal Jam, every hat or scarf or anything else, it has been… Placed and situated on every animal in the game, and frames have been rendered out for the animation of that animal, with that scarf, in that color, uh, for every single item in the game.

It means if there are hundreds of thousands of frames of animation, and going and adding things, or changing anything, is just a super labor intensive process. Now that- that's not to say new content can't be added, I think that more explains the- the difficulty or challenge in bringing AJ classic to a new platform, like WEBGL. And… Y'know, recreating i-it as a browser based game. Um, because… Essentially, all of that… Work, would have to be redone, rerendered, uhh, to be optimized for- for that platform. Um, and that's a massive undertaking. Um, now t-the possibility of us undertaking that massive thing, uh, went up considerably when were acquired by Nazara last uh, what's August, September? Um, because one of the benefits of being part of the Nazara network, is y'know, they have a tremendous resources with uh, uhh, with animators and artists, um based in India and abroad, and they can bring to bear um, y'know, an army that we can't. We're um, we're a much smaller company, and uh, maintaining just what we're doing is uh, kinda keeps our dance card pretty full. Um, so… Taking… Creating the Animal Jam experience that uhhh, is drawn heavily from Classic, may not be a direct port of everything in Classic, but does extend uh, the Classic experience, is on the Wildworks roadmap, there is WEBGL research that we're doing that's ongoing there, uh, I have played level demos of Animal… Animal Jam y'know, the… What you would recognize as kinda a- Y'know, Jamaa Township and some core areas in Animal Jam, running in WEBGL, and it's awesome. Um, that, the- still a long, long way away from uh, from a product that we can put out. Uh, but it is um, y'know, it's not something that we've taken our eyes off of, we're certainly… Y'know, our commitment to Classic itself has not changed. Um, and I will say… That uhhh, there is… Something pretty exciting and new coming to Classic very soon, um, I think that it will be a…. Uh, a blast from the past, for uh, for some of our older Classic players, but, uh, but kind of remade for- for this generation. And I'm- I'm excited for people t- to see it and start talking about it. I think they'd be pretty psyched.

20 questions in your Instagram thread about Classic, so that's… That's basically everything I know, you now know everything I know, and it's perfectly safe, it's not going anywhere, uh, there's some technical housekeeping thats probably overdue there, uh, particularly rebuilding the installer, which bugs me every time I look at it. Uh, but it- no, we're not, we're not taking it down, it's not going anywhere.

[Link to original video]

#animal jam #jamblr #wildworks #asks

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rodeoromeo · 11 months

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I honestly like. I am so so tired today and I've had a bad and busy one and haven't had time to sit here and think about this. and I truly truly mainly think we lack enough information about this potential release to make any complete judgements on it. but as it stands right now I feel comfortable saying that I think constructing a new song, creating new pieces of it and releasing it now as a "Beatles song" does not sit right with me. I do not think the technology used is the issue here. this coming up in the same conversation as the AI discussion I think has created some confusion about exactly what its being used for- its just a form of remastering tracks. but the idea that this is something they've built up anew, for ME? isn't right. if it IS Now and Then I don't think its entirely right of them to use George's guitar from when they worked on it on anthology and put it out, and it wouldn't be right to do it without his work either.

George was insanely particular about his playing and would exhaustively rerecord his parts until he thought it was EXACTLY right. do you think he got there with a track he didn't think they should complete? whether or not he only didn't want to work with it due to the sound quality or not, using that recording now as a finished product doesn't align with that. as a rule of thumb I am very trusting of Olivia and Dhani's handling of George's legacy and all but something just feels off to me about this. I genuinely am asking because I don't know, but do we know how much of a say the Harrison estate has in things like this?

frankly the biggest thing bothering me about all of this is the way people have taken this as an opportunity to just be really openly shitty to George. he wasn't even mentioned in the interview and so many people are just framing this as an opportunity to stick it to George, or actively even saying pretty callous things about him being dead so thank god this could finally get made.

I do want to hear more about what this track is ACTUALLY going to be or going to look like but I'm really disappointed in a lot of people's reactions, whether it be encouraging MORE AI to be used in the production of music or if its jumping at the chance to talk shit on George and his position in the band. it's a sad sad day to look around at this community. I don't understand some of the people who call themselves fans here. I think we should put out old demo tracks fuckin all day long. Even if it is a recording of them playing here and now in the anthology session simply cleaned up, I don't see an issue with that. But finishing anything and changing it and calling it a new single? I'll feel a little strange about that.

#like i was questioning myself earlier bc i was like for sure jeff and dhani finished brainwashed #but that was with georges express instruction and ideas #and for anyone wondering if i have a bit of a double standard on johns rights here #i feel a little complex about free as a bird as it is to be honest.#i might make a separate post about george's feelings about music production and the technology used in recording album track too because #i think we all know he wouldnt be happy with the way things are done now but theres more to his viewpoint i think people dont know about #i feel fully fuckin confident saying. i know almost the most you can know about george as a fan #so i feel secure in saying shit about this.#although ig some people truly just dont care about him so.#george harrison #op #the beatles

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v0ltpr1m3 · 2 years

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Today I bring you all a treat! Me and @yapixx have technically been working on this theory for years so when I tell you we have decent faith in this theory, we really do.

The theory we pose to you today is that The Man in the Wall and Dominus Thrax are one in the same, and that the "Paradox" in "Duviri Paradox" is specifically a Predestination Paradox (or causal loop).

This was developed over the span of several long nights spent analyzing the Duviri trailers frame-by-frame, typed up all nice and pretty for you here by the wonderful and fantastic Yapixx. I promise it isn't too long, enjoy!

The Duviri Paradox has been a point of confusion in Warframe lore since its debut trailer in Tennocon of 2019 ; Oftentimes left out of discussions entirely as a future mission that may reveal some more mysteries when it comes out. However, we suspect that in the first twenty minutes of the quest revealed during the latest Tennocon, DE already left enough information to piece together a lot of hanging threads in Warframe. Who The Man in the Wall is, how the Tenno's void powers were born, and what the Paradox in Duviri is.

Before we explain our theory, a mini-theory that’s important to our thesis working requires you to believe that Dominus Thrax is the Man in the Wall. Starting anecdotally, Thrax’s mannerisms are those of an immature child playing with toys. An immature child who gets entertainment and glee from the suffering of others. See how MITW (Man in the Wall) acts in all of their canonical appearances. Childish, menacing, who enjoys seeing us hurt ; Eg. After The Sacrifice when their only response to the Operator’s guilt over the murder of Isaah was “Good.” Also the fact that Dominus Thrax has full power over Duviri. “My world, my rules.” That wouldn’t make sense if he wasn’t The Man in the Wall because Mr. Wall, who came out of the Duviri portal in The New War, has that kind of power.

To really help the theory that Dominus Thrax could be in general another character comes from an interview by pcgamer. “Duviri is ruled over by Dominus Thrax, a king whose very mood shapes the world each day and the person keeping the Drifter there, who Ford hints may be more familiar than they seem.” Although it isn’t entirely damning, Dominus Thrax is allegedly an already known character, and The Man in the Wall fits as the best candidate.

Now to the fun bits.

We believe that the Duviri Paradox is actually a Predestination Paradox, or a causal loop. Lifted from Wikipedia for the sake of definition, "A causal loop is a theoretical proposition in which, by means of either retrocausality or time travel, an event is among the causes of another event, which is in turn among the causes of the first-mentioned event. Such causally looped events then exist in spacetime, but their origin cannot be determined." To put simply, it's when an event from the future causes itself to happen.

I believe that this is exactly what happens in The Duviri Paradox, further helped by our Drifter exhibiting the power to time travel in the void using a portal to the derelict starter frames. At the start of the demo, we first see the Drifter get stabbed with the Paracesis from New War, followed immediately by the Lotus' hand hitting the ground like a comet. They then use the Lotus' power to create color and change Duviri. Hijinx then ensues, but most importantly, the Drifter has the Lotus' hand. Dominus Thrax's final words in this demo are "Maybe I should just go there [the Origin System] myself." During New War, we get to see the deal that our Operator made with The Indifference (Man in the Wall). Confusingly at the time, the Indifference uses the Lotus' hand to shake ours. Then plays a scene that ends with our Operator still on the left, now shaking hands with our Drifter instead. Which didn't make sense. Until you apply the knowledge that the Drifter had the Lotus' hand in Duviri. And then it could be seen that instead of the Man in the Wall granting their own powers to us, he was using the hand that the Drifter had to grant the Lotus' powers to us. Thus beginning the loop where the deal gets struck due to an event in The New War, and the deal being struck is what led to The New War in the first place.

#Warframe #The Duviri Paradox #The Man in the Wall #Dominus Thrax #thank you all for your attention! even a skim is greatly appreciated :)

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whoreforharlow · 2 years

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Just to add to the discourse on Jack working with Chris Brown, and how that makes him look because he says he's a man who respects black women...

Both Ella Mai and H.E.R. are both black women featured on the album as well. On the list of who should not be collaborating with him, black women are at the top, black men second, and then white people. If black women are collabing with Chris Brown, after EVERYTHING he's done to us, my expectation that a white man would miss the opportunity to jump on the album is wayyyyy low. If a white man observes black women engaging and supporting Chris Brown, it's a solid assumption to believe that he wouldn't find any issues in it. Many believe "he's paid his dues" and have moved on from his negative behavior. Now, this is not at all an excuse, but it's more of an explanation. We can't hate the white man for not being in our corner, when black men and women can't even be in our corner. The most woke of them will only mimic our actions, and if we don't demonstrate the respect that we expect, they won't know what to do but copy what we do and how we view ourselves. If we pointing fingers, the black women on the album should be put on the hot seat before we ever look at the white man.

Also, this is an industry, and for him to pass up an opportunity to work with the biggest names would be a disservice to his career. Like for him to take what is quite literally personal moral stances against people who are problematic, he wouldn't get anywhere. Does he give up his dream of being a big shot legend? Because the reality is you can't reach the GOAT status that he's looking for, without playing the "game" set before him. Can we isolate and blame him solely, sure you can, but it's unfair to try one without trying all. He's unproblematic beyond calling himself an alpha, but who he associates with is questionable. Could he do better? Yes. Will doing better get him the results he wants? Not necessarily, or at least not in the way and in the time frame he's looking for.

I don't support the idea of overlooking wrong because everyone else is doing it, but tbh this mentality is SLIM in this world. Many will do wrong because EVERYONE else is doing it. Just as I said, it's not an excuse it's just an explanation. Would we all like for every misogynistic, colorist, homophobic artist to be canceled completely? Yes. But would that leave us with a very small percentage of the current mainstream media socialites? Also yes lol. Now realistically, we would have to really sit with ourselves and think about who do we listen to? Who are on our playlists? Even if they themselves are unproblematic, have they associated themselves with problematic people? Then by the logic we're using with Jack, literally all of our "faves" gotta go.

As for Anitta... to be completely honest, beyond her just being annoying lol, I didn't know anything about her. It wasn't until I saw people saying she was a racist that I knew she was, well, racist. From what I could see on Tumblr, A LOT of blogs didn't know, and found out from the Grapevine on here too. So with that being said, what can we assume that Jack knows about her? What do his black friends know about her to warn him about her? When I Google it, I saw stuff about 2013 and 2017... they met like this year lol. Again, not an excuse, but an explanation. From what I can tell, Jack doesn't spend time on social media to be reading up on the Anitta racism threads that span back almost a decade ago. Realistically, I doubt that he and his friends are researching the folks they hang out beyond their discography. Should he have someone on his team doing that shit for him?? 10000% because honestly being friends with Anitta isn't really something necessary for his image, if anything, bringing it down. I definitely think he's needs a black woman on his PR team, because as literally the most ostracized demo, we SEE everything lmao, can't get shit passed us without alarms going tf off.

Baby Boy is honestly on the denser side of the pound cake, and that's okay, I don't expect too much from a white man from Kentucky. But it's just that, I don't expect much. He's just trying to climb the ranks, play the game, and the only reason we're mad is because he's "supposed" to be the one good one... when in reality black men should be that for us black women. If we look for accountability, our own men should be held with more expectation and standard than a white man. I just don't like that we've elevated him to such a standard that he, as a white man, does not necessarily have to hold up. Take that as you want, but I said what I said. "I love black women", "I support black women", "I admire black women" are not conclusive statements, it's not solely black women that he's into. We're not the end all be all for him, that would be a FETISH lol. If he dates a white woman, that doesn't negate or contradict ANY of those above statements, but yall have contorted this man into a box that feels good, and will take it as him just pandering and capitalizing on black women. And before I hear "well he just talked sooooo much about loving black women, he obviously was pandering" HE TALKED ABOUT BLACK WOMEN BECAUSE HE WAS ASKED ABOUT BLACK WOMEN!!! Every interview he gets a black women question and he's gotta answer it lol, yall want him to say "I love all women" to that question? Yall would throw a fit at that too lol do I think he's capitalizing on black women, absolutely, but is that any different than what black men who literally rap the most disgusting stuff about us do too? NEITHER are correct, but yall just mad at Jack because we're letting a white man do it to us and not just black men and we feel a way about it. Welp, don't support his or any one else's pandering... its that easy. Black women are not dumb, we know what we're doing with these white men. We eat up any amount of attention because our own men won't give it to us, it's hard out here, and I do it too so I'm not judging. But there is an accountability that we need to take on. It's not just Jack.

#jack harlow #s has thoughts some times

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i-have-wings-on-my-head · 1 year

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Without the costume on - [Bob Velseb x Cinder[oc]] Part 2

[Cinder is a he/him, undeveloped demo version in this story, the real Cinder is very different]

"It's only a theory." He seems to be nervous from the questions, stuttering on his wordings. My mind races to any conclusions about why he would know.

One of his hands are shaking, violently.

Almost like he acknowledged my stare his hand grabs the edge of the counter. My eyes glide up to find his eyes staring at me.

He did notice.

"Calm down, big guy. I believe ya." I tell him, reaching my hand out to pat his knuckles. My eyes don't break contact to make sure I know what he is looking at. His eyes darted towards my hand, then back to my own eyes.

His mind seems to calm down from the small contact. But it takes a while for him to relax his muscles completely.

He sigh, he must be stressed out about keeping it a secret. But I can't get rid of the thought of him being the devil butcher. It has to be him.

The smile, the knowledge about human anatomy, the large frame fitting perfectly, and the stare he just had. My thoughts are so loud that I have to snap out of them.

"You must be a fan of his, you usualy don't speculate about things without proof." I decide to give him a helping hand.

This could be interesting...

"Yeah, I'm a fan. Uh, that's why I talk so much about meat." His posture becomes more relaxed as he speaks. The eyes have not left mine yet as he speaks again. "I've never heard what your interests are. Do you like anything?"

He seems to go back to the papers he was filling in. I think it through and realize that I could turn this around to make him realize who I am.

"I think demons are an interesting subject. It's a little embarrassing, but I like it." My finger glides over the counter, and I look down to fake my shyness. "People are too scared to learn about them. I just think demons are a bit of a burden."

"Really? You don't stricke me as a fan of supernatural things." The respons makes me stirr a little.

"Supernatural? You don't mean fiction, right?" I ask him, feeling a little worried about his knowledge. Then I realize.

"Ah, no. Supernatural is anything that is out of nature Sinner. Don't worry I beleive you." He tells me, laughing a little after. I blush from embarrassment.

The counter vibrated quickly under my arm. I had put my arm flat on the counter, laying in front of me. It almost scared me. He doesn't move a lot when he is in contact with the surface of the table. Must have been the pen dropping.

"I'm all done with the papers now." He informs me and looks up to me. My heart skipps a beat when his eyes meet mine. They look so innocent yet malicious on his face. "About you staying?"

"Oh, um. I should be fine, I can defend myself." Cursing in my head when I stutter it out. Not only that, but I am barely thinking. He hums loud enough for me to hear it.

"If you say so." It seems to be the final words of him as he stands up and grabs his keys. The movement is slow and I have good time to turn around and stand from the tall stool I had sat on.

"Have a nice night out there, but be careful, please." He tells me, letting me go out before he does as well and locks the door. "You have never stayed this long before. Do you want me to at least walk you home?" He asks me, seeming to look worried about my well-being. It makes me smirk a little.

"I should be alright." I remark, thinking of him in that costume has made me realize that it really is him. Maybe I can show him some new sides of myself as well.

Maybe the name Sinner could also be known~

[The story continues~]

#bob velseb #spooky month bob #spooky month #tender treats #lgbt #fandom #writing #bob velseb x oc #oc x canon #spooky month tender treats #fanfic

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blissfulalchemist · 2 years

Note

✨ 🙋‍♀️🏆❌ and 👀 for the writer emoji asks please :3

Ahh!! Thank you Lydia! I uh...got a little long at the end there because I just decided to be an over sharer. Apologies if I’ve posted any of them before!

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

.....Listen....people may not know exactly what I write but I tend to tell people that I write fanfic in my free time. I just get excited to share my stories and characters with people that will listen that it just kind of comes out before I can stop myself. I do also uh use it for job interviewing as it does help in showing I have something of a hobby that isn’t just watching tv and playing games.

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

So I believe on here it’s still the phone sex piece I wrote for Hayat and Mason with that being a stand alone work that isn’t attached to a commission, in which case it would be one of the first Cat and John scenes I wrote ever! (Like even when I first started to write for them before joining the fandom on tumblr.

On my Ao3 if you go by views alone its “A Chance for Faith”, but if you go by kudos then its “A Little More Complicated Than That” which is my Sahar and tv Marc Spector.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Other than your standard like icky things I won’t really write things I’m not personally interested in reading or just don’t have a good handle on just what it is. Like I can’t really list off tropes as I genuinely don’t know what things are specifically all the time. While I may say I don’t like a/b/o that doesn’t mean I haven’t already possibly written it on accident (I am fairly certain though I haven’t written it as its not something that sounds like my tastes) as I just write with little regard to genre at the time of writing. I guess horror might be the only one I won’t write as like a trope because its not that I dislike it (I quite enjoy me some good horror!) I just don’t know how to and I have very little frame of reference as to what it means to create good horror that fits my style and characters, I will simply leave it to the professionals (yeah mutuals that write horror I’m looking at you!)!

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

alkdjfldjgl! Uhm....hmmm....I think I have to compliment on the ability I have to put emotions into my writing that people seem to like a lot! I always have a goal in mind that when I write things it should feel like you are feeling what the character is feeling (and hopefully not in a way that acts like I’m telling you the reader exactly how you should feel about it). I use styling of how words look, placement, and body language since these were things that I saw and read growing up that influenced how I also convey a scene. So apologies to those that don’t like the abundant use of italics, exclimations, ellipsis, single word paragraphs, and those times I just smush words together making it hard to read, its just the best way I can make the scene feel like the movie I see in my head.

I will also give a shout out to the times that I managed to subvert the intention of prompts sent in to me. Again most of the time I just let a piece take me and sometimes that means making very fluffy and domestic kind of prompts into angst sagas.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

God! I really haven’t written anything more significant in a long while! I have things started but nothing that hasn’t been shared before and that isn’t FFXIV related. Like I’ve touched on things but they’ve been little notes here and there so I could have reminders as to what I was thinking about with certain pieces going. In the mean time I’m gonna catch up on wip tags and sharing a little bit of everything that I think is new. There might be some stuff that gives away plot pionts to ffxiv so please be warned!

To start here’s a little Demos from FF during Heavensward:

“Come here to drag me back to Alphinaud’s side, Yugiri,” he asks with a smile, not ready to face her quite yet.

“I actually thought I’d join you for a bit, Demos.” He nods, sitting up right to give her more space, “Why do you come up here? It’s not the easiest of places to get too.”

He shrugs, “Not that hard, but no one thinks to look up here.” They sit in silence looking over the city for a few minutes, Demos watching her relax out of the corner of his eye. “How did you know I’d be up here anyway?”

“Hm,” she looks over at him and down to the journal stuffed into the band of his belt, “Tataru gave me one of your drawings to use as a map, the perspective of it could have only been achieved from some place up high. So I just looked towards the sky.”

“I should have known it was her that’s been taking my cityscapes,” he laughs, “Was it helpful at least?”

“Quite. I use it to show the other shinobi where to be when the need arises.” She tilts her head, nodding to the journal, “Have you done anything new?”

In truth he hadn’t drawn more than a few lines for almost two weeks now, nothing here felt new or inspiring. Still she looked at him so expectantly and gods he didn’t want to disappoint her. He pulls the journal free, quickly flipping through the mass of blank pages before landing on a random one, “Oh plenty! Here take a look.” She looks at the page confused, “I call it Blizzard Forest,” he flips to a different page, “This one is more abstract and titled Collection of Snowflakes.” She looks up at his smiling face that’s holding back some laughter, the next page he flips to having a few rushed lines, “Oh this one is of the area just past the gates.” Yugiri laughs, making his smile grow as he picks yet another blank page, “This one is just a snow covered rock. And this one-.”

“Wow you really love to draw the snow don’t you,” she teases, handing the book back, “I was hoping to see something different of yours.” He sighs, giving another shrug, “Guess you would need a bit more variety of surroundings.”

“Most of my other works are either at home or Revenant's Toll….along with the better supplies.”

“Can you not find them here?”

“I can, it's just,” Demos shakes his head, “Well there’s something about using your older stuff. Like it’s not fair to give new life to something when the others have so much more to give still.” He leans forward, brown hair falling into his eyes, “It’s a weird sentiment but it’s just….” Demos gives a shrug, shaking away the thought.

“I don’t find it weird at all,” he glances up at her soft smile with wide eyes, “Sounds almost like something an old friend of mine would say.”

“From back in Doma?” She nods, eyes filling with melancholy as she looks straight ahead, “What was it like there?” He asks, pulling out the journal and pencil from his pocket, “Describe it to me.”

Here’s a little Sahar post Moon Knight show events:

“It was me,” she repeats, “I made sure Ammit was dead.” She steps forward, “Marc and Steven knew nothing about it.”

“Well clearly,” she hears Steven mumble.

“I am the current High Priestess of Khonshu, I was simply following my duty.”

“And what duty is that? By my understanding you have been very vocal about your distrust of our brethren.”

“I swore to protect the travelers in the night, to enact vengeance and justice on those that deserve it,” she tilts her head, daring them to look her in the eye, “I may be from another earth but I will not stray from my purpose.”

“Are you implying that you have become his most current avatar?”

She swallows, rolling her lips, “He needed one and I am the most qualified, don’t you agree?”

“Sahar you shouldn’t have done that,” Marc growls out, “You know what he’s capable of.”

She crosses her arms, glancing at Marc, “Exactly. The Khonshu of my earth was an opportunistic dick that had many more tricks up his sleeve making it harder to tell him no. This one is a cakewalk.”

“Is this an agreeable arrangement, Khonshu?” A goddess asks, lifting her hand prompting the old bird to speak. You better get the hint, Khonshu, After a moment she feels a chill throughout her body and a force slam into her back, gasping as she no longer feels her limbs.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” she says in a deeper tone, “Don’t worry I will help in keeping Jake a secret.”, “This world still needs justice to be served.”

“Are you saying that you’d rather have Marc back?”

“Well sad to say that even if he did, he can’t have us back,” Steven asserts, “We made a deal.”

“And I will uphold that deal.” Khonshu flexes her hands, “Though I could grow to like this one. She’s gained more training-.”

“And she’s stubborn enough to keep you in line. Don’t go thinkin’ we haven’t forgotten about how she’s stood up to her universe’s version of you,” Steven narrows his eyes, “Not that I like this idea of her being your avatar.”

Here’s a little bit of Anthea and their first meeting of Hythlodaeus:

The person sitting across from them exhales removing their mask and hood revealing lavender hair that goes just past the shoulders braided loosely, paired with sparkling amethyst eyes that keep Anthea entranced until he smiles softening the angles of his fair, lightly sun-kissed face. He’s one of the most beautiful people they’d seen, their brain already spouting out ideas on flowers that could be made based around him. “You‘re free to remove your mask if you’d like.” Anthea stiffens recognizing the man’s voice as the same one from the stranger she fell into. He gives a nod, “Do you wish to begin, then?”

“Hm,” Anthea blinks a few times while the words he says gain meaning in their brain, “Oh right. Yes, sorry. Uhm….” They look down in their lap at the plant bag and stack of papers beneath it, deciding to put the plant between them hoping it can mask the blush they’re sure can be seen through the one they already wear. “Apologies, normally I just send paperwork in or someone else takes it for me, rarely do I ever make the trip myself, but I felt it necessary this time around.” They take a breath, shuffling papers before looking up to see the new centerpiece does wonders to block the distraction his all too pretty face can cause. Anthea clears their throat, “Right, well, my name is Anthea and I am here to submit new flora for approval to be studied on Elpis.”

“Wonderful,” he says cheerfully, peeking around to meet their eyes, “I’ve seen the design and have been most curious about the finished product.”

His hands reach out to open the bag, Anthea quickly shooing them away, “Well see here’s the issue, mister…,” they look around the desk hoping to find a name plate before-.

“Hythlodaeus,” he smiles, folding his hands in front of him politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Anthea.”

“Same to you,” they respond quickly, looking down at their paperwork once more, I swear he’s purposely trying to show off his face which is wholly unfair. “The issue, Hythlodaeus, is that this particular flora wasn’t approved prior. It just….happened. I didn’t mean to make something so far from the design already approved, so I’m hoping for a retro approval and approval to allow Elpis to study it.”

“Hmm, I see.” He looks to their lap, “Might I see what you have written so that I can prepare myself.”

“I could uhm also just show you.”

He laughs, “I do try to be prepared for my appointments, Anthea, and I read that the last time something like this occurred you brought in a carnivorous plant of some kind.”

“No one’s going to let that one go are they,” they grumble.

And finally a little bit of Siberite during Heavensward:

She shakes her head, “No, everything is fine. I apologize for waking you.”

His body relaxes giving her an easy smile, “Good, good. No need to apologize. You just, well, you just never know in these times,” he assures with a chuckle, “How may I be of service to you?” She looks down, absently tearing at her nails, Was it truly not enough to just lay in silence?. He cocks his head to the side looking at her curiously, “What’s wrong, my friend? What’s happened?”

She takes a deep breath, “I uhm-. I was-. It’s too cold in my room, I was hoping to stay with you?”

“I can arrange to have a fire started for you.”

“No, thank you,” she says, shaking her head.

He opens his mouth only to shut it once more, giving a solemn nod with the understanding finally hitting him. “Of course,” he says, opening the door wider, “I can sleep on the chair over-.”

“No. No need to give up your bed for me.”

“Well I certainly can’t have you sleeping in the chair, it's simply not right of a gentleman to do so.”

“Then we share the bed, Haurchefant.” She looks up at him, the words having slipped out before she had a chance to stop them or even phrase the whole thing in a less direct manner. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that idea.”

He gives her a soft smile, “Of course not, your comfort comes first, Siberite.” She gives a single nod, finding a place easily in the bed, Haurchefant covering her delicately with the blankets before laying down next to her. Her eyes close with ease into a dreamless sleep with his even breathing as her lullabye and his warmth melting away the last of the lingering nightmare.

When she wakes, his hand is pressed to her chest underneath her own smaller hand, leg tossed between his, and her head using his free arm as a pillow, all the while his fingers trace patterns up and down her arm with a small smile. She blinks a few times until the ash blonde hair turns back to the silver of who really is tangled up in her limbs. “Good morning,” he says with a light laugh once she finally focuses on him, “Did you sleep well?” She nods, releasing his hand and sliding back to free him fully of her grasp, the ache and pain starting once again the instant his skin is no longer in contact with hers. She stands from the bed, Haurchefant reaching for her hand, “Wait, there’s no rush. Stay. Have something to eat before you run off to be a hero.”

Siberite hugs herself, shaking her head, “I should really be going. Thank you, though, for coming to my rescue last night.”

“No need to thank me, just send for me and I’ll be there.”

His never ending smile falters as he sits up, tugging at her heart. “I’m sorry for my behavior, it-. It wasn’t fair of me to throw myself at you like that.”

#Truly i apologize if I've shared any of this before I just decided to share what I had stashed away #some of this is a iykyk kind of thing but like it has to be written with that forbidden knowledge #anyway! Thank you again for asking lydia! I love you!#my wip tag

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mikebay02 · 3 months

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How to Recognize and Manage Separation Anxiety in Dogs

Dogs that break out of crates, harm themselves in the process, and can’t be left alone for even ten minutes are not only a risk to themselves but the people who live with them, too.

"A well-trained dog and a well-behaved dog are two entirely different things. A trained dog will do what you ask, but a behaved dog? They will make good choices on their own."

This behavior is called separation anxiety, and. Single. Day. We are getting DMs, emails, and comments about how much this behavior is destroying peoples’ (and dogs’) lives.

“I haven’t been able to go on a date night with my s/o since we got this dog.”

“I had to pull my kids from extra-curricular activities because we can’t leave the dog home alone.”

“My dog destroys the crate when left alone, and hurts himself in the process. If he’s not created, he WILL eat the window frames.”

“Our dog will howl and bark so loud, my landlord is threatening to evict me.”

These are REAL stories.

This is how separation anxiety is affecting families around the world.

It’s heartbreaking, and we understand how much pain and stress this ONE issue can cause. We put it at the top of the “most painful to live with” list— above aggression, believe it or not.

There is no escaping separation anxiety when you’re in the thralls of it. It’s a problem that spills over to every part of your life.

That’s why when people describe It…it’s often accompanied by the words: “suffering” “struggle” “desperation” and “trapped” It’s a crappy way to live with your dog…

And we don’t want that for anyone.

But life doesn’t need to be that way. Despite what the internet tells you, this behavior can be modified, and you can get your life (and your peace of mind) back.

Inside Separation Anxiety Solutions, you’ll join Jeff, Joelle, and Courtney of Solid K9 Training, to learn the exact dog anxiety training protocols and methods that are saving dogs from the prison of separation anxiety. Dogs just like yours.

As a dog owner, you deserve to have a dog that can live happily and peacefully in your home!

Your dog should be confident enough to calmly relax and self-soothe on its own—whether you’re gone for 5 minutes or a couple of hours.

No dog should require 24/7 supervision. It’s not realistic, and most of us have jobs, kids, and other life events to put our time into.

But if you you’re knee deep with a dog who is running your household and your life, you might feel like that’s impossible at the moment.

And you might be struggling trying a hundred different methods, a hundred ways, only to keep getting the same result: a dog that’s a danger to itself and your house.

So how do you help your dog get past this behavior?

If you’re searching endlessly for solutions, or don’t even know WHERE to begin…

Be encouraged.

YOU CAN HAVE A DOG WHOSE BEHAVIOR DOESN’T TAKE OVER YOUR LIFE.

You just need proven methods to push you in the right direction and get you RESULTS, that’s exactly what you’ll find inside of Separation Anxiety Solutions.

Meet Your Instructor

Hi, I’m Jeff Gellman, the guy with the hair that works with those insane dogs. I got my start in dog training 20ish years ago when I owned a wildly out of control dog myself. His name was Max, and he was large, powerful and had a lot of bad behaviors. He was making my life a living hell, and it felt like nobody could help me at all. That was until I finally met THE ONE trainer who looked me dead in the eye and said “you can tell your dog “no”, Jeff.”

And that was the day everything changed. I was able to stop all of my dog’s horrific behaviors rather quickly, and actually train him up to be one of the coolest dogs I’ve ever owned. He became my sidekick in mountain climbing, biking, and even my demo dog when I created a dog training business of my own (hello Solid K9 Training.) Max was the first “why” behind everything I do today.

I currently own and operate an exclusive, boutique style dog training center in Bradenton, Florida. I rehab and train dogs from all around the country and even traveled for 5 years holding dog training seminars around the world. When I say I have worked with the worst of the worst behavioral cases, I truly mean it. I own a highly successful virtual dog training company where I can put my passion into video format to help even MORE people who can’t reach me geographically.

I also held dog anxiety training seminars around the world. Throughout my career, I have worked with tens of thousands of dogs and humans, and I know firsthand how lack of training can affect the quality of life for both ends of the leash. Between my free social media content, virtual one-on-one work, seminars, and in-person training, I have kept countless dogs in their homes who were on their last chance.

I have always wanted to find a way to help EVEN more families and their dogs. There is such a need for dog training that works, and so I created this course. My Green to Graduate series addresses one of the most common pain points I see people struggling with- lack of training overall! So many folks are struggling to get their dogs to do the basics, so I wanted to create courses that truly covers it all.

This simple and easy-to-follow video series will get you on the path to better walks, better obedience, and a better lifestyle with your pet for the long run. You'll finally be able to live life with your dog exactly as you imagined, and the best part is, you'll be there in 4 weeks or less.

We know the struggle is real out there with SA. So we will be putting everything we’ve got into this course with 20+ years of experience under our belts.

We’ve worked with dogs who destroy kennels, break teeth, rip out toenails, and wreak havoc on their owners’ lives with separation issues—and we’ve got the tools, methods, and information (and creativity) to turn it around.

We’ve never shown our protocols for separation anxiety on video before. This is a first for us. And the dog who we will be training in the course displays ALL of the behavior above ^.

We know what an impact this course is going to have not only on the dogs, but on the PEOPLE who are suffering in silence, too.

For the first time ever, Jeff, Joelle and Courtney will all be working together in a course to show the exact process behind how we resolve separation anxiety with a dog who mutilates, breaks out of crates, destroys the house, and has put a halt to his owners’ social life.

Inside Separation Anxiety Solutions, you’ll get in depth dog anxiety training that you can apply to your own dog, in real life.

When you join Separation Anxiety Solutions you’ll…

Learn how to eliminate arousal, incessant whining, and non stop barking inside the crate

Learn our processes for stopping all crate breaking and self destructive behaviors

Receive step by step coaching on how to set up training protocols that address your dog’s state of mind (even when you’re not home.)

Learn our tried and true methods for creating calmness within the home, within the kennel, and within your dog’s MIND

Understand how you LIVE with your dog effects everything as far as your dog’s behavior is concerned

Learn how to muzzle condition your dog with our Muzzle Conditioning course ($99 value)

Recordings of Our 2023 Live Two-Day Leash Reactivity Seminar

Unlock the Masterclass Vault, where you’ll have access to FIVE of our best-selling live classes from 2023 ($997 value):

Walk Mastery LIVE where you’ll learn to teach a perfect on and off leash heel

Leadership LIVE where we break down our most impactful leadership exercises

Day 1 behind the scenes with a Client Dog LIVE

How to Walk a Pack of Dogs LIVE

Our exclusive “How To Work With A Biting Dog” masterclass where we teach our exact protocols on how to stop resource guarding within the home with a dangerous dog

-A 90 minute FREE group q+a session with Jeff and Joelle to support you on your journey

Our weekend problem solving seminar course ($197 value)

One month FREE of our Private Community Membership (2 coaching calls included! $997 value)

Here’s what you’ll learn inside of Separation Anxiety Solutions:

Part 1: Eliminating arousal to get your dog ready to learn

Part 2: Generalizing this training to every part of your dog’s life, including inside your home and out. We will teach you how to have a dog that is calm when told to do so.

Part 3: Setting up real life protocols like leaving the house, and preparing your dog for success (and what to do if things go sideways)

Part 4: Troubleshooting. We know dog training is a roller coaster, and it’s not uncommon to have days that feel like a “set back.” You’ll learn exactly how we work through these scenarios and see the “messy middle” of training that isn’t being shown out there on social media.

Every module is in order, so that you can follow the process in the most effective way.

This is your one stop shop for stopping separation anxiety in its tracks, and helping your dog get out of this unhealthy headspace permanently.

And you’ll get it all for just $197 presale pricing!

For a program worth more than $2500

Testimonials and Feedback

Don't take our word for it. Take a look here or look at our testimonials at the link on the top of this page.

-Kristen O

"It's SO helpful! Nice to be able to rewind and replay certain tips. It's like having Jeff in my house!"

-Michelle L

"Started the videos and will recommend to my clients. So easy for them to understand! Thanks Jeff!" -

-Sunshine T

"Love how the dog makes mistakes and you guide him through the process. Nobody else shows that." -

-Kelly A

"Best purchase. A no-nonsense approach to training. Teaching me how to be a better teacher for the path I want my dog to follow."

-Murph M

"Fantastic. I'm having fun learning and you make it very clear/straight forward."

-Tricia K

"These courses are amazing! Now I have more things to really get my skills where they need to be to do better for my dogs. Thank you Jeff for taking the time to expand on content and help the masses!"

When you join Separation Anxiety Solutions, you’ll get:

-The Muzzle Conditioning course

-Walk Mastery LIVE where you’ll learn to teach a perfect on and off leash heel

-Leadership LIVE where we break down our most impactful leadership exercises

-Day 1 behind the scenes with a Client Dog LIVE

-How to Walk a Pack of Dogs LIVE

-our exclusive “How To Work With A Biting Dog” masterclass where we teach our exact protocols on how to stop resource guarding within the home with a dangerous dog

($997 value)

PLUS the -90 minute Q+A with Jeff and Joelle ($600 value)

-Weekend Problem Solving Seminar Course ($197 value)

-One FREE month to our Private Community membership ($47 value for the month PLUS a discounted rate if you choose to join for the year)

These bonuses are only valid when you join within 48 hours!

And in case you were wondering…

Q: Is this course right for me?

A: this course is for EVERY dog who struggles with whining, self destructive behavior, inability to be alone, and even destroying the house. There is so much to learn, and likely some very simple changes you can make that will change everything for you!

Q: It’s on pre-sale, so the course isn’t done yet?

A: we’re offering this course at special pre-sale price since we are still currently filming. Videos will drip out as they’re completed! We should have the course wrapped up and completed by January 31, 2024

Q: How do you know this dog anxiety training works and that is will work for me? That it’s not just you, because you have years of experience?

A: I wouldn’t call something proven if it’s only worked for me, one time. The training I teach inside this course has worked on tens of thousands of my client dogs—around the world. If you commit to applying what you learn, and trying things that might not be familiar to you, but could get you the results you want, this program will work for you.

Q: I’m exhausted. I’ve tried everything…what makes this any different?

A: I’m so sorry. I get it. Almost every single one of my clients comes to me after spending thousands and wasting time on training that doesn’t yield results. I wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone. However, what if everything you’ve been trying just isn’t the “right” method? This is a self paced program, so no rush to consume it all in one day. Try it one module at a time. I promise you’ll make improvements. If not, shoot me an email and I’ll be happy to offer another solution. [email protected]

#dogs #dogs training #anxitey #dogslife

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