#Hard drive duplicator

[digitaldocumentservice-blog]

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[opticalmediamanufacturinginc]

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[grunge-mermaid]

deleted 1377 files from my computer and backed it up

deleted 4000 photos & videos from my phone

still need to find at least 28gb to delete so I can downgrade my iCloud subscription

[sodacowboy]

oh I desperately need drives for different things jesus christ

[dragonowlie]

got my computer backup fully done, feeling very accomplished on this fine evening. now, onto something that will go significantly less smooth - starting to save my favourite posts from this site

[ilovecatfr]

things to script for you dr

beauty edition

(None of these are my work) these are some of the acc on tt I got them from and I recommend: @ theunknownshifter / @cattleya_ley / @reality_traveler_ / @irenesrealiity /@shiftingwithmily /@kiintsugiis

To others,there something about me unreal and and divinely beautiful,something that's from another world.

I'm bewitchingly and overwhelming beautifu.l

Im insanely seductive and charming to any gender.

My eyes have a jewel like effects that when light hits them, they light up with many different colours, like a gem would.

My beauty is like unspoken beautiful things in life and such brung to bring life in colours.I make everything seems much more colourful around me.

Just by my presence everything seems better and more colourful and brighter.

My movements are effortless, as il I glide through the world with an ethereal lightness. My posture is naturally poised, landing an air of regality to mine presence. The softness of mine skin invites gentle caresses, and mine touch is as gentle as a feather's kiss.

I hold an insane amount of pure femininity-a natural and exquisite state of perfect beauty.I am the best example of one of earths finest creations, the universe took its time perfecting every inch of me, down to the smallest flawless details. a sublime figure, graced with a certain magnificent aura to match.

My aura is a manifestation of my inner beauty, an ethereal glow that surround the l exudes a sense of purity, goodness, and an irresistible magnetism that draws people towards me. My presence is calming, as if I carry a piece of heaven within them. It is a palpable energy that radiates from my being, capturing the hearts and minds of all who encounter me.

Im what most people would see as a beauty fit for royalty, the kind of beauty that would capture the attention of a king or emprior, and send all men and women to their feet

it's not a burden to gift me expensive things it's only a reward for their hard efforts to provide for a beautiful princess

People constantly feel the need to re-visit where they last saw me for a dopamine spike.

My voice sounds like it was straight out of heaven itself, people beg for me to speak just to hear my voice.

My hair is always perfectly in place and sits perfectly, my hair has a beautiful shine to it as if the moon is being reflected on it.

My presence and gaze itself makes others begin to see the world through different lenses, and notice the beauty of being alive; my very being can drive others to tears, my beauty is unable to be comprehended by the human mind, im unreal.

My existence itself baffles anyone who sees me, as if im testament to the idea that life itself was a work of art. I'm a composition of countless perfect melodic notes, each one contributing to the symphony of existence.

My presence is overwhelming and exceedingly strong. it holds so much pure soul and life, all while being centered around someone so mystically beautiful as me is chilling and intimidating.

My beauty transcends the ordinary and is ethereal, evoking a sense of being from another world. It is unlike any other and has a mesmerizing quality that captivates those who lay eyes on me.

My distinctiveness sets me apart from the rest, making me an exceptional individual who cannot be replicated or duplicate.

it's not just my delicately carved facial features that are enchanting, but also my impeccable sense of style and graceful demeanor that radiate an undeniable charm.

My beauty cant be put in any category; it is unable to be defined by preexisting 'types', setting a new standard of unobtainable perfection. some cold and sharp features, some soft and whimsical, I am the perfect balance of beauty. an equal amount of each and every kind of look you could imagine; bringing it all together and forming something brilliant.

My eyes are magical almost brainwashing. People lose their focus on anything but my hypnotizing eyes when having eye contact with me.

I am the kind of beautiful people never recover from. There is something so devastating about the way I exist-like I was sculpted not just to be admired, but to be longed for. My presence doesn't just enter a room-it lingers, curling into the corners of people's minds and refusing to leave. I don't just catch eyes-I hold them hostage. They don't just want me-they ache for me. I am the addiction no one wants to quit.

[alicentsgf]

im very set on there being 8 survivors now, anything else cheapens the story a little for me. i think it was always going to be 8, no matter what else changed. even before the writers were set on who the 8 would be they knew the 8 roles the characters would have to fill. this was always implied in the pilot, but now im convinced.

even just going off what we've actually heard via dialogue, any more than 8 feels unlikely. at lotties compound one of them said they were "all here" implying it was just the 6 of them left alive. the other 2 would then be travis and someone else who is either dead or assumed to be dead. i know people have speculated on that line in season 1 about some survivors living off-grid but personally i still think jessica just meant travis.

the number 8 has come up a couple of times in meaningful ways and its especially relevant to understanding why it matters that they're the Yellowjackets, a soccer team. it isnt just backstory, its like the key on a map, symbolic shorthand to help you understand the wider story. their on-field dynamics and roles so often mirror the ongoing dynamics and roles of the characters.

minus duplicates (like allie/akilah being nat's duplicate) there are 8 positions in a starting line up and we know via their shirt numbers all but 1 position is assigned to a specific varsity player. i know this is super hard to visualise if you arent a massive soccer nerd like me so i repurposed a graphic i made a while back.

in soccer specific jersey numbers are traditionally worn by particular positions, e.g 1 for a goalie, 9 for a striker, etc. every single varsity player in this show wears a traditional number. theres no way that happens by accident, it was a choice. the image above shows you what it tells us about their field position. as you can see the unassigned role is the attacking playmaker position, the person who makes the most pressurised, pivotal decisions. the real life or death stuff. misty fills this role, she has both ended and saved more lives than the rest and i'd say destroying the blackbox was pretty damn pivotal. in the pilot when the girls run out for the pep rally she is the only one thats focused on apart from the varsity girls and theres a player missing from the line up. that seems deliberate.

you can also see the only (teen) dead of the 8 are laura lee and jackie. this is where our reserves come in. sometimes also called substitutes or game-changers (subtitution is a major theme in this show just by itself but thats another post). when a player goes down you look to the bench to see who can fill their role. laura lee and jackie have both already been subsituted: travis takes laura lees place at lotties right hand, becoming her partner in the right side of defense, naturally protective but can progress with the attack to support his winger (nat), and then melissa takes jackies place as shaunas focal point, encouraging progression and driving the attack. however, even then travis and melissa dont fit quite right. simply put, people (and cats, no matter how similar they look to the original) cant be so easily replaced. travis, melissa, and misty are often othered. never accepted as part of the core team. (i have a suspicion van was meant to die and have javi take her place positionally. for a while he seemed like he might have a similar ability to deflect death against the odds and a closeness to the wilderness travis and lottie would want to defend. imo whenever the writers decided javi was dying or van was living, the others story inevitability changed too.)

the number 8 relates to the wilderness too. the 8 the knife made at the seance when javi asked if they were all going to die? the way the symbol of the wilderness has 8 elements?

im not saying this diagram shows for sure which element represents who, but i thought i'd give you guys an idea of what im seeing.

to be clear, im absolutely not saying the survivors are all that the symbol represents. if an in-universe explanation is given it will obviously be something else (i.e. that its a map of some sort) but i think the creators of the show chose this design for a reason that perhaps relates more to the survivors than anything else. it being a map would be more of a visual backgronym, with the characters as the actual inspiration for it.

for me the symbol has to represent them because the entire point is that they and wilderness are indistinguishable. us not knowing whats the wilderness and whats them is by design. that promotional poster of the characters forming the symbol? sitting inside of it? supernatural force or not, its in them. like lottie said, "is there a difference [between it and us]?" thats the shows thesis statement.

it makes sense Tai's jersey number is the 8 when she most embodies what the wilderness represents. shes the central midfielder, equal parts attack and defense. two warring halves, neither one exactly good nor bad, just primal vs civil. as shes placed at the very center of the game she has to play equally in both her own half and the other. her finding a way to balance both sides is key and this follows because historically and mathematically 8 has often been the number that is used to represent balance, splitting evenly from 8 to 4 to 2 to 1. life vs death, creation vs destruction, spiritual vs physical. neither can exist without the other. "does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?" = living requires killing. but too much of either and theres disruption, a hole in the ecosystem as a species exhausts its food source. I wonder if thats what the yellowjackets did. killed too freely and disrupted the balance. once again, tai would embody this. her arc this season would reflect the wider narrative in its entirety - the primal takes over and natures left unbalanced. its why i dont think any of the survivors end this show alive. not because of cosmic justice, this story isnt so much about morality, its about duality and balance. when the wolves are killing too many deer the only thing you can do to reset the scales is cull the wolves.

so yes, it always had to be 8. if the 8th survivor is melissa, then it was very likely decided long ago that one of the extras would eventually come to the fore to play this part. ultimately they were just waiting to see who they thought was the best fit (or maybe what big name older actress they might be able to snag and match to a teenager lmao). either way it always had to be someone who could step into the space jackie left in order to complete the team. no more practices or scrimmages, they know their roles now. the ones we met in the pilot; the butcher, the overseer, the shaman, etc. for so long they had no striker, no sharp point to their attack, but thats not true anymore. melissa subs in for jackie, but soccer is fluid. players can switch position due to substitution. now its shauna who leads the attack, becomes the striker, the captain, placing melissa in the space shes left behind. no more killing for necessity, this is killing for sport and every position is filled. the story until now was just match prep, this is where the game begins.

[ysolt]

chat i have good news, while i didnt manage to recover the files directly from the SSD, i managed to collect the full resolution PNGs of virtually everything that was lost since i always send stuff either to my hubby, into discords or to my phone. being annoying pays off!

chat i have very bad news. i dont think i can recover the art files from my dead ssd. professional data recovery costs 250+ euros. i'll keep the drive for when i either have better tools or money but yeah that's a whole year of csp files lost. i was thinking about making stickers out of some.

[noirscript]

call avoidance.

Yandere Hotline: 3/?

featuring: implied drugging. implied tresspassing. lots of male masturbation. unsolicited phone sex (?). implied kidnapping. AFAB!Reader (yan calling reader mommy)

note: this is written while half-asleep. not edited. brain go brrr. i'll add the src some time.

Dealing with mad people can drive anyone insane. But if you're given a hefty sum to keep the insane ones company, you'll take. Life is tough, but you can choose your own hell.

"Got you some drink. Your favorite flavor," Heidi, your 'neighbor' in cubicle, said cheerfully as she placed the drink and sandwich on your spot.

"Well, who are we kidding." You shook your head before placing the plastic cup in your trash bin along with the tasty sandwich that came with it. "They're really persistent, you know?"

You smiled sheepishly as you arrange your cubicle to start a new day. Unlike your workmates, your place is quite neat and devoid of anything that would identify that spot as yours.

No personal images pinned on the corkboard. Not even a framed picture of whoever inspires you to get up and work hard without becoming insane yourself.

Upon accepting the job offer, you made sure to draw the most visible line to keep your personal life to yourself. You've heard some stories—some myths—about some agents disappearing without any trace overnight. Like they never existed in the first place.

"I hope they fuck off, you know?" You sighed before putting on your noise-cancelling headphones. "May we survive this shift," you grumbled as you wait for the first call with baited breath.

You have frequent customers. Most of them were pleasant to talk to. Let's just say that they're not exactly the dangerous type of callers. Those type clients were, most likely, drawn to the idea of being a 'yandere' as a fantasy. Sometimes, there's a hint of sexualization.

Almost every person on the floor are taking calls. Including you. However, your gut's been telling you to ignore the call. Maybe it's one of those unhinged callers who believes that you're theirs. Like they own you and all of your time.

You still have some available credits for call avoidance since you rarely used your credits. Surely, this one call will not affect your performance rating.

While waiting for the phone to stop ringing, you decided to clean up your work email. Being bombarded with useless newsletters about food and books on sale is the worse. Not only does it make your inbox crowded, it's also spammy.

You were fightung the urge to just select all and delete everything at once when you suddenly heard a notification. One after another.

One from your email, another one from your messaging app, and lastly—from the internal chatroom.

You opened the email with an attachment. It was a blank email but as soon as the preview for the attachment appeared, you almost gagged.

It was an image of a man's cock. There were translucent liquid splattered everywhere while the tip of his dick is on a cup—filled to the brim with iced coffee with foamy top. Your favorite.

Your hands were shaking as you exit the window of the website. You clicked the messaging app first. 'Perhaps it was just a promotional message from one of those companies.'

But no.

It was a message from a private number. You don't have any idea how they did it, but they kept sending you images. Most of them were blurry, but the ones with better quality almost made you vomit.

It was taken in a small room. At first, the room was dark, but eventually the image light up. His face was blurred, but you could clearly see what he was doing.

He was fucking your pillow. The one you've been using since you've moved in a better place with better security.

You were confused. And scared.

How could he easily enter your place? Your keys are with you and only the management has access to other duplicates.

"No way..." you whispered as you close the messaging app's window.

One bomb was dropped after another. And you knew something's off.

[NOTICE OF TERMINATION]

Due to multiple reports of call avoidance and drop calls, the management has decided to relieve you from your position as an agent effective immediately.

As we value your well-being, rest assured that you will be receiving your full payment for the next three months along with the other benefits that the company has sworn to provide you.

We sincerely appreciate your efforts for the last three years. We wish you all the best from this day forward.

You were devastated, yet relieved upon reading the letter. You've been wanting to receive this for months. It was the only way out of this place and this industry. You've also managed to save up a lot that you can start fresh somewhere. Far from this place.

Another phone call managed to bypass the automatic system of the place. You took a deep breath before accepting the call.

"Hello?"

"I can't... wait... haah..." the man on the line was clearly doing himself. By the eay he sounds, he's probably close. "We'll move to a big house... haah... hngg... a baby, a babyyy... nhnn... come home..."

Your eyes widened upon hearing your name. Not the screen name you gave them, but your legal full name.

"Let me... hngg... make you a mommy... d'you want that, huh?" You could a wet sloppy noises in the background. "Tiny baby... sucking on your tits... while I make a mess out of you?"

"Ap—"

"No need for... apologies..." he was breathing heavily. "I'll see you soon, okay?

"Heimdall."

He chuckled. "That's me, my princess... took you long enough to say my name."

"How did you get into my house?" you asked while gritting your teeth.

"Patience, my love. We could talk all about it once you're home. Should I get you something to eat? Chicken? Cake? Sandwich? Coffee?"

"I'm done with you."

You immediately pressed the end call button before gathering your things and left. Not even a farewell to your friends.

But there's something you should probably know.

Heidi can't wait to be an aunt and to be your sister-in-law!

[kireilien]

something about big eyed men (heeseung and euijoo)....... i want them to eat me out as they look up at me with those big eyes..........

ANON GET OUT OF MY BRAIN HOLY FUCK. although nichomaki n jayki are my biases from their respective groups, something about those big eyed doe men do something to me… they’re not even “bias wreckers” they’re my affair partners i kid you not.

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; softer dom!heeseung, softer dom!euijoo, sub!reader, fem!reader, race neutral reader, oral (f receiving), masturbation, cum play/cum eating, mild branding, mxm if you squint (this is not an excuse to send in mxm asks, i’ve had to delete a few alr guys pls read the guide book thank you), implied overstimulation, use of “doll”

korean men born in the early 2000s who are in their hyung lines, both traumatized by i-land, 6ft tall with huge eyes can have me in a sandwich between them and i would neva wanna leave! never ever ever!

heeseung and euijoo’s huge frames are making yourself press down into the mattress. your lower half is completely bare, allowing them to appreciate your cute, dripping cunt, aching to have something done by them. the two of them are unbuckling their jeans, palming their hard cocks behind their boxers just from the sight of you.

you’re so fucking giddy.

i mean who wouldn’t be?

you could cum from the sight alone.

“you’re so pretty for us doll,” euijoo would murmur as he lowers himself down to your pussy. licking a wet stripe up against your clit, gasping at the feeling. heeseung would delicately caress your stomach, “mhm, yeah. be good for us, doll. you can do that for us, right?” you’d sheepishly nod as euijoo keeps a steady pace on your cunt.

the little gasps and whimpers leaving your lips are driving the two men insane. euijoo is lapping at your cunt, watching how you’re writhing at his tongue while heeseung is stroking himself above his boxers. they’re both staring at you in awe with those big eyes— though their bambi-like eyes look so innocent, their desire and near carnal lust for you is beyond what they look like alone.

euijoo is rutting his cock into the side of your mattress, he could cum any moment by the pure taste of you; it was so addicting to him. heeseung though, is getting a little irritable. he hasn’t tasted you yet, just stupidly rubbing his cock as another man eats you out to his pleasure.

“fuck— move. you’re being greedy.” the older one grits as he pushes euijoo out the way. the younger one rolls eyes but to be fair, he was eating you a bit too feverishly.

heeseung gives in no time to start playing with your drooling hole, toying at it with his tongue. you could immediately feel the difference between the way they both eat you out. while euijoo took it slow, savoring your taste, making sure your sweetness sits nicely on his tongue, heeseung was like an animal, devouring your cunt as if it was his last meal.

you’re whining at them, the pleasure was oh-too-much, but the two of them were only getting started?

euijoo’s grunts while fisting his cock were getting strained, heeseung looks at him with this knowing glint in his eyes. he shifts over a bit so both of the men could be near your cunt. you mumble a little, “why’d you stop—?” before heeseung and euijoo cum on your cunt.

it takes awhile for you to process, the fact that heeseung and euijoo are cumming all over your pussy, making a usual load, double the amount. they were covering your cunt in globs of white, dribbling down, pooling on the sheets. euijoo and heeseung look at each other when they do, groaning at the same time of how your pussy looks delectable from the sight of their cum showering your cunt, getting it all messy. they honestly wish they could take a picture and frame it, i mean, it was really fucking hot. the way your cunt is being frosted over by the two of them. once in a life time experience that you can’t really duplicate.

by now, you still haven’t came once, which was funny. since yk, you had two men with you and they’ve yet to make you cum. but obviously, that fades away in your mind when euijoo and heeseung come back down, eye level with your cunt, and start littering bite marks and hickeys across the plush flesh of your inner thigh.

“hmm, we know you wanna cum, doll. just wait a little for us okay?” heeseung would murmur against your thigh, sending sensitive tingles in your veins. euijoo hums with him, “yeah, doll. we can make you feel good if you’re patient with us.”

and patient you were.

it doesn’t take long before the two men start working their tongues on your cunt at the exact same time. one would be on your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, while the other would use the cum that was still on your cunt to fuck into your sopping hole. you’re grinding on their faces, loving how the new feeling of two tongues feel on your sensitive cunt. because who knows how much time has already passed? it was one after the other where you’re looking down at those doe eyed men, keeping their tongues sloppy and messy on that cunt of yours!

back 2 catalog

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Broken Glass was SO GOOD!! Could you write something like that but with Auston?😯

Did this slightly different than Broken Glass just so it wasn't a duplicate post with Auston copy-and-pasted in place of Quinn.

Still high drama, still a hospital moment, still copious amounts of hurt/comfort! But thanks for the compliment, babe! 🩷

Also, I wrote this in one sitting to try and keep things more fluid. Apologies in advance for proofing.

That being said: C|W : implied alcohol use, physical trauma, minor depictions of bodily injury, mentions of blood W|C : 2k

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm not going that far, just the next block over or so. You guys are good!"

Girl's Night plus a best friend's birthday had made for an evening full of an over-abundance of laughter, stories, and alcohol. Auston had been on the road the last week and a half but was due home in the morning. His absence had flared your depression the last few days, so you were thankful for the welcomed distraction. The night was finally coming to and end and it was time to say goodbyes and go home, however hard it was.

"Are you sure?" Stressed one of your friends, the mother hen of the group.

"Yeah, I promise. I'm not leaving Auston's car downtown over-night. I'll be fine."

She sighed, her breath like smoke against the cool Canadian air. You could tell she wasn't convinced about you walking alone at night back to the car, but there was nothing to be done about it. He had been nice enough to let you drive it while he was gone, and you were going to make sure nothing happened to it.

"Text me when you get home, please."

You had to laugh, "Yes, mom."

Waiting around until all of them piled into the cab, you waved goodbye before starting off on your own. By now, Auston's game was long over and you were eager to talk to him if even just for a few minutes -- if he'd answer his phone.

"Hey mama," he said smiling when he answered your video call. His hair was wet and his eyes expressed his exhaustion but you were happy to see him regardless, and he seemed just as pleased to have you light up his phone.

"Hi, handsome," you replied, stopped at a crosswalk. "I saw you guys got a win! I had the game on at dinner."

Auston laughed, running a hand through his hair while never breaking eye contact with you. "We did yeah, we needed it. How was tonight?"

The light changed.

"It was good. The girls just left to go home.”

Auston’s expression narrowed slightly, “Are you alright to drive home?”

“Yes,” you whined. Deep down, you knew everyone was just showing that they cared about you, but sometimes you wished they had a little more faith.

“Just making sure you’re safe, mama.”

“I know,” you sighed, feeling regret over giving him the subtle attitude. “Trust me, they all but pulled me into the cab before they left. I only had a few glasses of wine, and like I told them, I’m not leaving your car parked all night.”

“You’re more important than a car.” By now, Auston’s brows were pulled in, sharp wrinkles forming beneath them. He didn’t show you his serious expression very often, but when he did, you knew it was for a reason.

“Baby, I’m fine. I knew I had to drive home, so I was careful. I’m not even giggly!”

You had the ability to melt his stern demeanor so easily, and this moment was another of those times. Almost instantly, his brown eyes were warm again as was his tone, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I need you safe -- always. Who else am I going to hold at night?”

His wink killed you. “Oh stop! You’re so dramatic!”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you, too,” you confessed, feeling everything return to a normal playing field. “Are you guys flying home in the morning still?”

“Yeah, we’ll head to the airport first thing in the--”

Your phone would fly out of your hand, somersaulting across the pavement. On Auston’s end, he initially thought you had simply dropped it, but after he heard your screams he immediately flew into panic mode. Three teenagers had just jumped you from behind, one hitting you on the back of the head with something heavy which had taken you knees out from under you. You’d crumple into a ball on the sidewalk, but that was right where they wanted you. There were forceful kicks to your ribs as well as punches to your face. Never had you ever felt such intense pain in your life. This was a literal nightmare.

The taste of copper in your mouth was strong; the lack of air in your lungs made you think you were going to die. You couldn’t hear Auston’s yelling through the phone for the ringing in your years. You attackers wouldn’t see it either, as the phone had fallen screen down, up against a store front.

They were laughing at you; that you couldn’t unhear.

The beating felt like forever, but in reality only lasted a couple minutes or so. They took your Gucci bag Auston had just bought you for your birthday, as well as his keys before running off, leaving you laid out against the damp concrete. With shallow breathing and heavy eyelids, you’d feel the world fade in on you. It wouldn’t be until the ambulance’s sirens and personnel got to you that you’d be painfully reminded of the night’s turn of events.

Everything was a blur.

You were in and out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. The bright, white overhead lights stung your throbbing head too much to bear. Every bump, every turn of the vehicle made you wonder if your bones were made of glass, and if all of them were shattered. Misery. All of it, every feeling.

- - -

“It’s going to be a long road. She’s going to need someone who can be around her consistently for some weeks. There’s no way she can take care of herself in this condition, and I’m sure you know that.”

You weren’t sure if you were in a medially induced coma or having some sort of out-of-body experience. You could hear the nurse speaking, and you thought you had heard Auston’s voice a time or two, but then again, maybe that had just been wishful thinking.

“I know it’s hard to see her this way, but the surgeries went well. We’re just keeping her here because she had so much trauma. The doctor will come up with a timetable on her release time over the next few days. There’s a lot of swelling we’re keeping an eye on, and we don’t want to send her home too early.”

Halfway through the conversation you found yourself counting the beeps coming from your heart monitor instead of who was talking in the room with you. You were alive, somehow, but you couldn’t remember getting here.

“We’ll be back at the top of the hour to check on her again, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

The door shut softly, but your eyes rolled to the left, beneath swollen and closed eyelids. Someone had sat down beside you.

“Baby, I love you,” you heard Auston mumble, voice pained like he was on the verge of tears. “I love you so much. So, so much.”

With whatever strength you could muster, you forced your eyes open. “Auston,” you could only whisper.

His ability to speak was gone. Just seeing you in that hospital bed had crushed him, let alone hearing your attack happen in real-time. You couldn’t ignore the tears silently rolling down his cheeks as his chin came to rest on the edge of the bed.

“I love...you.” Speaking was hard for you, the tubes down your throat for anesthesia had caused the hoarseness, making each word labored.

“Don’t speak, baby. It’s okay.” He was trying so hard not to break down, at least not in front of you. His eyes were red, either from not sleeping last night or from previous emotional episodes. Either way, he was losing the battle of being strong in front of you. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I-- I--,” he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself.

With your left hand, you moved it away from your body to touch his hand. Auston seemed reluctant to touch you, likely from fear of causing you more unnecessary pain, but you reaching out to him, he swallowed up your hand with both of his. His touch was warm, so soothing against the cold nature of hospitals. All you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and let him hide you away from the nightmares of your reality.

“I called the police as soon as I heard what was happening,” he confessed, trying to shake the sounds of your cries that were replaying in his mind at the mention of last night’s chain of events.

“Your car!?” You remembered the boys stealing your bag, and everything you had in it.

Auston did his best to shush you concerns, rising to his feet to give you a much needed kiss. Your bottom lip was split, but you needed to feel him against your lips. This accident aside, it had been over ten days since you had seen him. What unfortunate circumstances you had to reconnect on.

“Don’t worry about anything but yourself, sweetheart, please. The police are working on it. Like I said last night, you mean way more to me than any car. Those are so easily replaced-- you aren’t.”

Your eyes were both blackened, swollen, and stinging against the light of the room, yet Auston looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world, because to him, you always would be. He knew your heart, making the inside always more stunning than the out.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Okay as much as you can be,” he stumbled. “When you went quiet I thought I lost you, baby.”

You were both crying now. Fuck, if you could just have him hold you.

“I’m going to call my mom later and see if she’ll fly up and stay with you while you recover, okay? I caught a red-eye last night so I could get back to you sooner than this morning. I just knew I couldn’t sit in that hotel knowing what had happened. I used Mitch’s phone to call the police. I couldn’t bring myself to end the video call, even though you didn’t have your phone. They recovered it, though. So...there’s that,” his voice dropped off. There were a lot of memories on that phone.

“Auston?” Again, your words were whispers, but he heard you easily.

“What is it, baby?”

You had never seen him look so sad -- ever. He knelt back down, his elbows now resting on the bed as he looked at your broken body before him. As carefully as he could, he touched your face with the back of his fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

Fresh tears pours down his face at you’re quiet apology. There was the sharpest pain in his chest, but he would hide it for you. He was already ashamed that he had allowed himself to cry in front of you, with you dealing with so much already.

“Baby, no, please-- please don’t apologize. You didn’t do a single thing wrong. None of this is your fault, okay? You didn’t deserve this.”

You couldn’t help but think that if you had just gotten in that cab, you’d be in bed with Auston, back at home, instead of laying in the ICU wing in the hospital with numerous broken bones and healing wounds. If only... As you looked at him, you had a feeling he knew what you were thinking.

“You had no way of knowing, sweetheart. It’s unfortunate, but sometimes things just happen, and I hate so much that it had to be you.”

Every gasp for air burned pain across your whole chest, and Auston did what he could to calm you down, although he felt like he was running blind in the situation.

“I’ve a few days off, okay? I’m not going to leave your side. I’m not leaving you here alone. I can’t,” he paused for a moment before putting his forehead to your temple. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you. Never again.”

[fandomsandfairytales]

Reblogging this post because I saw it a while ago and went "cool post" and then moved on with my life.

Then I saw this email subject line in my inbox and IMMEDIATELY. and I mean IMMEDIATELY. thought of this post:

Like, my first thought was something along the lines of "Turgon would be happy about that."

So of course I had to open the email to zoom in properly to take the screenshot, and I noticed the rest of the email.

ROLLING FILE CABINETS. Heck yeah, Turgon would love those. Might help to save on building wagons, but I think there would be plenty of things for those wheels to get caught on if you're rolling them across Beleriand. Just saying. I'm with Caranthir on this one, the expanding file folders are way more portable and efficient.

Turgon invented the filing cabinet.

how does it feel to be the most correct person on the internet today

[opticalmediamanufacturinginc]

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[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 3: Focus on Us

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: "you're important"

Welcome to chapter 3 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

It was late, and my tiny dorm desk was cluttered with camera equipment, SD cards, and a cup of lukewarm coffee I’d forgotten to drink. The incident in the gym with Paige lingered in my mind as I sat editing footage for my final project. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I debated whether to open the file labeled “Gym Footage – Paige.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I clicked play.

The screen flickered to life, showing Paige’s face as she fumbled with my camera. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the angle, murmuring to herself, “How does she make this look so easy?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the way she treated my camera like it was something sacred. Then her tone turned serious.

“Hey, Y/N,” she began, her voice soft but sincere. “I know you’re probably still upset about what happened, and honestly, you have every right to be. But I hope you know how much I admire you—your work, your passion, everything. You’re incredible, and I hate that I hurt you.”

My chest tightened as I listened, her words more heartfelt than I expected.

The video continued, capturing the moment I returned from the bathroom. Paige must have thought she’d turned the camera off, but it kept rolling as we talked, laughed, and shared pieces of ourselves on that cold gym floor.

By the time the video ended, I felt a mix of emotions—touched by Paige’s honesty, but also incredibly awkward knowing it had been recorded. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to delete it. Instead, I duplicated the footage onto a hard drive, labeling it simply as For Paige.

At the next practice, I made my way to the gym, the hard drive tucked securely in my bag. I was nervous to hand it over, unsure how Paige would react.

She spotted me as soon as I walked in, her face lighting up with a grin. “Hey, stranger! Decided to stop avoiding me?”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t hide my smile. “I was never avoiding you.”

“Sure,” she teased, jogging over to meet me. “What’s that?”

I pulled the hard drive from my bag, holding it out to her. “It’s… the footage from the gym. I thought you might want a copy.”

Her smile softened as she took it from me, her fingers brushing against mine. “Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t think you kept it.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It’s good footage. And, well… I think it’s important.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re important.”

The words hung in the air between us, making my heart skip a beat. Before I could respond, Coach blew his whistle, calling the team to start drills.

Over the next few weeks, Paige and I grew closer. At games—both home and away—she made a point to check in on me, making sure I had a good spot to shoot from and subtly positioning herself during warm-ups to shield me from stray balls.

“Protecting your camera,” she’d say with a smirk, though the warmth in her eyes told me it was more than that.

At home games, her attentiveness didn’t go unnoticed by the team—or the fans. KK and Azzi teased us relentlessly, while fans on social media began speculating about our dynamic, tagging us in posts with captions like, “Paige’s photographer girlfriend?”

One particular home game, as I set up my equipment during warm-ups, Paige jogged over, her usual grin in place.

“Let me try,” she said, gesturing to my camera.

I raised an eyebrow. “Try what?”

“Taking pictures,” she said, her tone playful. “You make it look easy, but I bet it’s harder than it seems.”

I hesitated, glancing at the camera in my hands. “Paige, this is expensive equipment. What if you drop it?”

She placed a hand over her heart, feigning offense. “Y/N, I’m an athlete. I have excellent hand-eye coordination.”

I laughed despite myself, eventually handing her the camera. “Fine, but if you break this one, you’re buying me a new one.”

“Deal,” she said with a wink, taking the camera from me.

She spent the next ten minutes snapping pictures of her teammates—some candid, some posed—and even turned the lens on me a few times.

“Paige!” I protested, holding up my hand to block her view.

“Come on, you’re the star of this project,” she teased. “Let me get one good shot.”

Reluctantly, I lowered my hand, letting her capture a few photos. She grinned at the screen, clearly proud of her work.

“You’re a natural,” I admitted as she handed the camera back.

“Only because I have the best teacher,” she replied, her tone soft.

Later, as the game began, I couldn’t help but notice how Paige glanced my way after every big play, her smile brighter than usual. When she made a block that sent the ball flying dangerously close to my corner, she immediately looked over, mouthing, “You okay?”

I nodded, giving her a thumbs-up, and she grinned before returning to the game.

By the time the night ended, I had more than enough photos for my project—and a growing collection of memories with Paige that I knew I’d treasure.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza .... (more to be added)

[ms-demeanor]

i’m curious what your opinion is on the finer points of the case mentioned in the JSTOR post you reblogged earlier. the two sources in the post say that JSTOR didn’t press charges against him and had already settled with him by the time he killed himself. from what i read on wikipedia, the concern seems to be that JSTOR complied with a subpoena, which i don’t believe they have a choice to ignore? if anything it seems like the us government had reason to want him dead for wikileaks and public court records reasons, so they took a terms of use violation and blew it up into a dozen federal crimes.

is there more context i should be aware of? i have no particular affection or malice for JSTOR but the sources i found don’t exactly implicate the database or its employees in murder.

That's from page 175 of this document. This line: "The activity noted is outright theft and may merit a call with university counsel, and even the local police, to ensure not only that the activity has stopped but that - e.g. the visiting scholar who left - isn't leaving with a hard drive containing our database" is where I think the culpability starts.

If someone is downloading 1000s of articles (what seems like reasonable threshold for us to take action), what's wrong with us - or the university in collaboration with us - alerting the cyber-crimes division of law enforcement and initiating an investigation, having cop search dorm room and try to retrieve any hard drive that contains our content, etc. Our content is extraordinarily valuable and hard to replicate by the sweat of one's brow, but can be duplicated by savvy hackers and who knows what they want to do with the content?

Page 379: "Does the university contact law enforcement? Would they be willing to do so in this instance?

From page 1296:

I think the important thing to note here is that JSTOR had worked with MIT and had plans in place to prevent future similar downloads, but remained focused on identifying the person responsible for the downloads and ensuring that their data was deleted.

"I might just be irked because I am up dealing with this person on a Sunday night, but I am starting to feel like they need to get a hold of this situation right away or we need to offer to send them some help (read FBI).

And there it is. Page 3093 of the document.

JSTOR can hem and haw about it all they want, but you can't un-call the cops.

MIT was working with JSTOR on preventing future incidents of pirating, but JSTOR repeatedly said that they weren't going to let it go, that it was unacceptable to drop the issue, that they were going to continue to pursue the pirate.

You can scroll through the document and see the JSTOR tech department and abuse team talking about Swartz as a script kiddie, and a hacker. You can see someone talking about how this was real theft - making the comparison to stealing books even while admitting that piracy doesn't close others out of access.

You can see the thread starts with a joke about punching someone in the face for hacking their system, and includes the tech team ominously considering whether they should threaten the MIT librarians with the FBI.

There's something really important to note here which I don't think that people who aren't PRETTY DEEP into hackery shit aren't aware of: US law enforcement is absolutely rabidly feral about prosecuting hackers. People may be more aware of this now because of Chelsea Manning and Edward Snowden (and perhaps a bit on tumblr because of maia arson crimew), but people who work in tech and who are in infosec - like the people joking about calling the FBI in these emails - would be aware of the bonkers disproportionate punishments faced by hackers. And knowing that, they kept pushing and pushing and pushing for identification of the hacker. They kept digging with MIT, they kept saying that simply preventing future incidents wasn't enough.

Early in the exchange someone from JSTOR asked "what's wrong with us - or the university in collaboration with us - alerting the cyber-crimes division of law enforcement and initiating an investigation, having cop search dorm room and try to retrieve any hard drive that contains our content, etc." and the answer is what happened to Aaron Swartz.

It is absolute bullshit for JSTOR to say "we arrived at a solution privately and didn't want to press charges" after law enforcement has gotten involved with a hacking case, especially one where they're talking about "real theft" and are attempting to quantify and emphasize the amount that was "stolen" from them.

The *public* may believe that private individuals or institutions are the ones who "press charges" but that's simply not the case. It's prosecutors who decide whether or not to go ahead with charges; they do it based on what cases they think they can win and what their office's perspective is on the crime. When you hear about people choosing to press charges it simply means that they decided to tell the prosecutor they wanted the case to go forward. It's up to the prosecutor whether or not that happens.

And the tech team at JSTOR had to know that law enforcement wasn't just going to wag a finger at an academic hacker.

There's a parallel here that happens sometimes when people have their identities stolen by their parents. If you mom takes out a credit card in your name, that's identity theft. That's fraud. That's illegal. If you reach the age of 25 and realize that your credit is ruined because your mom has been defaulting on cards in your name, you've got two choices to fix that: one is to accept the debt and pay it off and build up credit, and the other is to report the identity theft - which will end up with your mom in prison for a decade or so. Ruin your own personal finances, or your mom goes to jail for ruining your finances. So if you find out that your mom stole your identity you can't just call the cops to pressure her into transferring the debt to her name or something. That's not an option. The cops are not a threat to wave over people, they are not a way to get people to fall in line or act right. They aren't someone you can send to a college student's dorm room to retrieve a hard drive and have the matter drop.

When you call the cops on someone you are sending the full force of the law after them, and the full force of the law falls really heavily on hackers, and how heavy that blow can be is something that the JSTOR team must have been aware of when they were making snide comments about calling the FBI because they were frustrated with the noncommittal responses they were getting from librarians.

Ultimately it was the carceral state that killed Aaron Swartz, but they would not have been involved if JSTOR didn't think that what he did constituted theft.

Taking an *EVEN LARGER* step back from that, the idea that information can be owned and locked behind a paywall is what killed Aaron Swartz, someone who fought for information to be free.

Like. JSTOR is a licensing company. At the end of the day, cute social media posts and all, they're the same as the RIAA and ASCAB. They exist to extract a fee from people attempting to access information.

Aaron Swartz and all that he stood for are an existential threat to their core function.

Are JSTOR's hands as dirty as the federal prosecutors? Absolutely not. But they operate on a model that puts them in opposition to open information activists and it ended up with a hammer falling on Aaron Swartz that they dropped.

[cherriesnkisses]

just spent four hours downloading my 2500 harry styles edits collection from tiktok onto a hard drive so basically this hard drive needs to be duplicated and placed into a high security safety deposit box ASAP