#bad parameter fix

[gudguy1a]

Error: Bad Parameter while deleting pages in Acrobat

kay folks – this is a problem that has been going on for OVER 8 damn years… But I had the same BLASTED, FRIGGIN‘ problem as well.Did not at first trust the solution but I found a USABLE adobe link on another site and decided to “EXPLICITLY” follow it, line for line. And guess what: We HAVE to do the COMBINE PDFs step… I just used another one pager XLSX or Word file, with something like 10…

[sageofmagic-squeaks]

I absolutely despise this era of AI written website slop

So I've taken care of betta fish for years and this last one I got from my LFS is probably an 'alien' betta based on colors and short fins. Alien bettas are a mix of a wild type betta with the more common petstore genes (if I'm remembering correctly cuz I SURE CAN'T FACT CHECK THAT ANYMORE). Anyways, this guy is the most skittish betta I've ever owned and recently stopped eating. I'm running through my betta health check list to figure out what's wrong and nothing is matching up to what I know. So I'm thinking maybe this is something unique to alien betta behavior. Dude is always hiding more than any other fish I've had so maybe he struggles with the human = food association. Especially since I suspect he nibbled on a shrimp while I wasn't looking. I go to look up alien betta behavior.

In the SAME PARAGRAPH ABOUT BETTAS I get information about alien bettas being passive peaceful fish but also they're super aggressive fish that can't be with other tank mates. Um...

And don't even get me started on betta illnesses. They'll be like 'bettas can get ich, dropsy, and fin rot. Consult your veterinarian on how to treat your betta'

Guys. I have never seen any fish site EVER refer to veterinarians until now. Most fish vets, in my experience, are on call for the big boys. Think city aquarium or fish farms. Betta fish vet care has usually fallen on the fish owner to carry out themselves. But a good chunk of websites on the front page of google are now telling me to take my fish to the vet. Or other VERY inaccurate treatment methods like simply treating ich by turning up the heater (that's only one step of treatment. It also involves understanding the life cycle of ich and the severity. My past treatment of ich has been moving the fish to a hospital tank for a month where I can safely medicate with specific ich treatments while letting the parasite die out in the show tank without a host)

Anyways I came out of this experience learning absolutely nothing because, of course, only forums are giving real answers and the one person who asked a similar question to me never reported their results. Oh and the only website that might've had real person input was selling their own specific betta tea product and jumped right into a shop. I only suspect it was human written because they made a ton of jokes about throwing actual tea bags into blackwater tanks when the leaves just aren't enough. Mood tho.

[olderthannetfic]

I mean, I do feel like if someone was traumatized by their religious upbringing, helping them to recognize that as a bad thing and helping them to be free of it is arguably the right move? Yeah just telling them “god isn’t real, get over it” is most likely insensitive but arguably freeing them of their self hating beliefs is the ideal outcome?

--

Man... I was raised to despise religion, but a steady diet of nerdy youtube and really weirdly anti-intellectual takes on tumblr has forced me into repeatedly defending religion. I did not ask for this, but here we are.

Personally, I find most religion kind of dumb, but it is a key part of a great portion of humanity's search for meaning. It's the backbone of so many cultures in so many places and times. Knowing about it is useful for everything from being more politically informed to making up better fantasy world building in fiction.

When a person has religious trauma because they were told that their religion, in this context probably Christianity, hates them, telling them to ditch religion is like telling them they're not allowed to ever have a birthday party again because their abusive parents did something awful at their past ones. Ah yes, cut yourself off from major celebrations and cultural experiences, not to mention community. That's sure to fix things!

It would be far more effective at 1. making them feel better and 2. making them stop adhering to a shitty religion if we introduced them to better religion.

The history of Christianity is one of the most studied subjects on the fucking planet. There are a multitude of progressive scholars who have explored things like how the early church very possibly had major female figures that later asswipes tried to downplay and cover up. I think Religion for Breakfast has some interesting videos that at least touch on this.

There's a whole complex conversation to be had both about how the early church actually handled same-sex relationships and about why a given prescription is even in there from an anthropological perspective. Take the pork thing: it's probably about taxes. Some of the others are about differentiation from nearby groups at the time. Understanding the historical cultural context helps dismantle the idea that this or that specific prescription is a vital core part of the religion that must remain unchanging thousands of years later.

"A true Christian wouldn't have abused their gay kid" is a far better message than "Give up everything you know", and it has plenty of support from scholars who are deeply religious but not dumbass textual literalists who can't grasp that even if a holy text were the word of god, English language edition such-and-such is subject to human interference in the form of All Your Base-level translators.

If Christianity or whatever religion is the issue is a no go due to the traumatized person's past experiences, plenty of people would still be happier finding a different religion than going without.

I really, really cannot emphasize this enough: Religion is a key part of many people's lives the same way, say, sex is.

A lot of people around here seem to fundamentally not get this in the same way that you see people who haven't realized how ace they are going "But whyyyyy?" over the central role that horny plays in somebody else's life. You don't gotta get it, my dudes. Doesn't mean it's going away.

Even just understanding the parameters of what counts as religion and all the different flavors that exist out there will help put the trauma into context for many people. Your asshole parents are in a cult not because all religion is lies but because this Christianity has been perverted into a vehicle for abuse. Other religious people like the scientific method, research, logic, and evidence. It's just your church that's atrocious.

Shitty religion leads to self hate.

You can pick another religion.

[oaksgrove]

The Captain and the Captain; Mission Parameters: Undefined

pairing: Captain John Price x Captain!female!reader

synopsis: Task Force Echo joins forces with the legendary 141, leading to a whirlwind of first impressions, professional clashes, and undeniable chemistry. As Echo’s captain, you’re determined to hold your ground and prove your team’s worth—but the quiet intensity of one Captain John Price might just throw you off balance. Amid the tension of a high-stakes mission, connections begin to form, and you can’t help but wonder—what happens when the mission ends?

word count: 1619 

warnings: slow-burn romance, mutual pining, and plenty of team banter.

Team’s Diary – Entry 42

Captain [Your Name]

Task Force Echo

Date: Classified

Location: Joint Base with Task Force 141

Dear Diary (It’s still childish how we address this. But Hayes forces us to…),

Well, where do I even begin? Today was a whirlwind. For starters, Echo is officially working with 141. Yes, the Task Force 141. The legendary team with their notorious reputations. And let me tell you, first impressions were… let’s just say memorable.

The initial briefing was tense. You could practically cut the air with a knife. I could feel Price’s eyes on me as soon as I walked into the room. It wasn’t hostile—more like curious. He’s got that air of authority, like he’s sizing you up without saying a word. I wasn’t going to back down, though. Our task force has earned its stripes just like theirs, and I’ll be damned if anyone thinks otherwise.

The introductions were quick, and somehow it still felt like a standoff. Lieutenant Hayes, ever the charmer, gave Soap a wink that nearly had me rolling my eyes out of my skull. Soap, to his credit, looked delighted. He leaned toward Ghost and whispered something, probably cheeky, judging by the smirk that spread across his face.

Speaking of Ghost… God, that man is intimidating. He loomed silently in the corner like some specter, his unreadable mask fixed on us the entire time. If I hadn’t caught Sergeant Holt’s subtle side-eye, I would’ve thought I was the only one unnerved. “He’s just a bloke in a mask,” I told myself. Yeah, right. A bloke who feels like he could break the world in two if he wanted.

And Gaz? He was the warmest of the lot, polite and curious. Lieutenant Miller was quick to match his energy, chatting about anything and everything—well, as much as they could while keeping it professional. If anyone’s going to become fast friends, it’s those two.

I won’t lie, Diary: this is going to be a challenge. Task Force Echo has always been about precision, discipline, and efficiency. We don’t waste time on bravado. 141, on the other hand, seems to thrive on controlled chaos. Soap was cracking jokes left and right, and while I hate to admit it, even Hayes was snickering.

Price seemed to watch it all with a quiet kind of amusement, but when it came time to plan, he was all business. The man has a presence, I’ll give him that. And his strategies? Sharp. He doesn’t miss a beat.

Still, there was this moment—when we were discussing infiltration routes—where our hands brushed as we reached for the same map. It was nothing, really, but I caught him looking at me. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made my stomach do a little flip. Pull it together, Captain.

I think Hayes is going to fall head over heels for Soap, if she hasn’t already. I caught her laughing at one of his awful jokes during lunch, and I swear I haven’t seen her laugh that hard in months. It’s endearing, really.

Holt is harder to read, but I think Ghost intrigues her. She’s always been drawn to the quiet, mysterious types, and he certainly fits the bill. She didn’t say much, but I noticed the way her gaze lingered when he spoke during the briefing.

Miller, bless her, is already planning to adopt Gaz as her new best friend. They bonded over a shared love of tea and British sitcoms within five minutes of meeting.

And me? Well, I’d be lying if I said Price didn’t leave an impression. He’s so steady, so composed—it’s hard not to respect that. But it’s the moments in between, the small glances and the way his voice softens when he addresses me, that stick with me. I don’t know what to make of it yet, and I doubt I’ll have time to figure it out.

This mission is going to push all of us to our limits. Echo and 141 are two very different beasts, but maybe that’s a good thing. We complement each other in ways I didn’t expect.

For now, I’ll focus on the mission. But Diary, I can’t help wondering—what happens when the mission is over?

-

The soft scratch of your pen came to a stop as you finished the entry. You leaned back in the chair, your eyes lingering on the last line. What happens when the mission is over? You closed the diary gently, running your fingers over the worn cover. Hayes might tease you about writing these entries, but it gave you clarity—a way to navigate the chaos of your work.

Sliding the diary into your desk drawer, you straightened your shoulders and took a steadying breath. Echo’s bunk area was quiet, save for the hum of voices drifting in from the common room. The sound pulled you out of your thoughts, grounding you.

As you walked into the main area, the scene that greeted you was both familiar and oddly comforting. Task Force Echo and 141 were scattered across the room, a mosaic of personalities and energies. Hayes was seated on the arm of the couch, leaning a little too close to Soap, who looked far too pleased with himself. Gaz and Miller were deep in conversation, their shared laughter punctuating the room. Holt sat nearby, her expression unreadable, though her gaze occasionally flicked toward Ghost, who loomed quietly at the edge of the group.

And then there was Price.

He stood near the corner, his hands resting on his hips as he observed the room with a quiet intensity. The light from the overhead fixture cast warm tones over his features, highlighting the streaks of silver in his beard. He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours.

You froze for a moment, caught in the gravity of his gaze. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the weight behind it. Steady. Calculated. Like he was seeing more than you meant to show.

You nodded at him, a small acknowledgment, and his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. It was subtle, so fleeting you might have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely.

“Oi, Cap!” Soap’s voice broke the moment, pulling your attention. “Come join us. We’re just getting Echo to spill all their embarrassing stories.”

You arched a brow, smirking as you made your way toward the group. “Good luck with that, Sergeant. Echo’s tight-lipped.”

Hayes shot you a mischievous look. “Don’t listen to her, Captain. I’ve got plenty of stories about her.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you warned, but there was no heat in your tone.

The room buzzed with easy camaraderie, a surprising blend of Echo’s precision and 141’s controlled chaos. Yet, even in the midst of the chatter, you felt the pull of Price’s gaze.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, though he was now nursing a cup of tea. Every so often, his eyes would flick to you, as if he were cataloging your movements, your words, your presence. And though you tried not to, you found your own gaze drifting back to him.

Gaz noticed first. He elbowed Soap, nodding subtly toward the two of you. Soap’s grin widened, and he leaned closer to Hayes. “Looks like your Captain and ours have a bit of a staring contest going on.”

Hayes followed his line of sight, her brow lifting in realization. “Really? That’s... interesting.”

You caught the tail end of their hushed conversation and narrowed your eyes. “What are you whispering about over there?”

“Nothing at all, Cap,” Soap said, far too innocently.

“Right,” you drawled, crossing your arms. “You’re all far too quiet for my liking.”

Miller chimed in, her grin conspiratorial. “I don’t know, Captain. It seems like some people are more focused on certain... individuals in the room.”

The implication was clear, and your face heated slightly. “Focus on the mission, Lieutenant,” you said firmly, though the corner of your mouth twitched with amusement.

Price cleared his throat from across the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “Enough,” he said, his tone calm but commanding. “Leave your Captain alone.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Hayes let out a low whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely defending her.”

Price shot her a warning look, but there was no denying the faint amusement in his eyes. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath before taking another sip of his tea.

The conversation shifted after that, the teasing dying down as the groups broke off into smaller clusters. But as the evening wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Price’s gaze, nor the warmth it left in its wake.

As the room began to clear, you found yourself lingering, tidying up stray cups and papers. Price approached quietly, his steps measured.

“You handled that well,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and resonant. “That they are.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

“You’re a good leader,” he said finally, his gaze steady. “Echo’s lucky to have you.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a high compliment,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.

His lips curved into a faint smile. “Just speaking the truth.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And as you stood there, the distance between you narrowing ever so slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder if the mission wasn’t the only thing worth pursuing after all.

part 2 here!

[thegreatyin]

what do you mean this meme went out of fashion circa september 2024. no it didn't. shhh.

anyway OC SMASH OR PASS 💥💥💥💥💥 GO MY BAT 🦇🌹 #MyBat

rules: self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

i was tagged by Nobody. i did this By Myself. i am however tagging everyone who sees this for every fandom under the sun. smash your ocs. smash your mutuals ocs. smash everyone's ocs. probably don't smash the scoundrel though they don't deserve it

the first two drawings are by me, and the last two are by @foongle and @queercatboyrights respectively. yes of course these are all equally important reference images what are you talking about

🦇📈 PROS:

The Snugglerrrrrr

when they like someone she really does like them. she is singing their praises to the highest heavens and showering them in more gifts than they can handle

art lover and artist. will write sappy poetry about/for you

can take a head pat and/or chin scritch no problem

smells like flowers 🌸🌹🌺

24/7 cute bat noise asmr

can (and often does) purr so hard her whole body shakes

hedonism 15 if not in gameplay then in spirit

would insist he's dominating in the bedroom but in actuality he's the furthest possible opposite. very suggestible, very collarable.

has more Experience™ than you'd think

extremely sensitive ears. like. elf fetish tier sensitive. you know exactly what i mean by this

okay i was going to dance around their exact sexual parameters because this isn't the blog for that sort of thing but i can't in good faith make this kind of post without mentioning they give head like a world-class olympic champion. no i'm not joking or exaggerating. this is Real Scoundrel Lore.

insists upon ludicrous amounts of aftercare and/or cuddling. this is earnest and goes both ways

can be fixed. maybe. possibly. if you believe hard enough.

🦇❓ NEUTRAL QUIRKS:

>:3

roughly 40-ish, give or take a few years

usually presents vaguely masculine, but occasionally switches it up in the opposite direction. floats vaguely around the androgynous range

a married bat, though their situationship is open and his wife isn't the jealous type

their eyes are violant, meaning they remember Everything they see. everything.

approximately 99.1% human, with an ongoing bat HRT prescription

hopelessly romantic at heart, but very comfortable with flings and/or one night stands

praise and body worship and bondage enjoyer georg

accidentally BPD coded

in modern terms, they would be a genderfluid omnisexual furry

🦇🔫 CONS:

not worth even looking at unless you enjoy being annoyed by your partner

Mr Cards

white on the chessboard, with everything that implies

unironic mr wines stan, with everything that implies

no, seriously. he's hopelessly in love with mr wines. Hopelessly.

can never shut up to save her life. she Will have thoughts and you Will hear them always and forever.

so dumb. just. just So Dumb.

actual comical levels of self-absorbed. like. you know the kind of guy who says "oh my me" because he thinks he's comparable to god? the scoundrel is very very very very very close to reaching that level of awful.

smug. mischievous. often outright mean. will make fun of you and hurt your feelings and feel bad for approximately 10 seconds before shrugging it off and getting drunk on opera music

he's,,, shall we say, disconnected from reality at the best of times. his mind operates on 7777 layers of denial at all times and if you try to remove one he screams and runs away

no seriously he really really really really really wants mr wines carnally

his body is covered in violant veins and marks, to the point where looking at him naked for a prolonged period of time is probably legally classified as a biohazard

refuses to take off his bandages unless either directly ordered or placed under extreme duress. for obvious reasons, this can make smashing somewhat difficult

bourgeoisie :/

[milkywayes]

okay so happy pride month or whatever, no one asked but here’s my garrus vakarian dating history headcanon:

he has had 5 casual hookups pre-normandy, which isn’t a big number compared to his peers, and you’d think it’s because he’s an obsessive little freak who’s bad at being a turian, which evens out his good looks and swagger (and for some it does - cue some very frustrated crushes being forcibly stamped out because ‘really? that guy? he yelled at our superior last week in full view of the entire canteen’) but really he just didn’t notice half the advances made at him and the other half he turned down because he was busy thinking about important stuff (like gun mods, or cases, or math) and after careful consideration and weighing the pros and cons decided his time was better spent elsewhere. two of the 5 were with men, the other three with women, all turians. no repeats. he has had zero relationships pre-shepard if you don’t count the homoerotically-charged friendship he had as a teenager, one year before and one year into boot camp, before their very different abilities got them postings on opposing ends of the galaxy (read: elite sniper units on stealth patrol ships vs guy that assists the guy that fixes the lights in a backwater colony). he thinks no one knew about this, but his whole family did know and just tactfully didn’t bring it up. during the archangel years he has 1 hookup mostly because everyone tells him he’s so high-strung and needs to get laid more than he needs oxygen, but he bows out early on because his depression isn’t really conductive to the proceedings (read: she came but he didn’t.) this somehow ends up adding to the archangel urban myth, a true hero of the people asking for nothing in return, wink nudge, which makes him the butt of his team’s jokes quite literally until they all die bloody. he has never been in love until shepard, is initially unable to even categorize the feeling, and unfortunately for him, dealing with uncertainties and gray stuff and undefined parameters are about the only thing he’s actually bad at (besides the whole model turian stuff, if you count that as a skill). so basically his skill tree gets inverted as soon as he catches feelings. previous hookups would have described him as a gallantly attentive but emotionally unavailable, doesn’t save your omni-tool address but remembers your name kind of guy, which he mentions once to shepard. doing so is a faux-pas, though she doesn’t point this out and instead laughs uproariously because just that day he dented his newly-polished armor in his attempt to hold the elevator for her

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[quinloki]

Random Writing Tips

This is for fan fiction more than anything else, but it can also work for original content depending on your parameters. (If you need to submit an outline to your publisher, for instance, obviously you would need an outline XD )

You do not have to write Chronologically:

I mean you don't have to write your story in time-line order from start to finish. You can start in the middle, and catch the audience up with flashbacks or whatever.

You can start in the middle, go back to the start, meet up to the middle, resume, and continue.

You can write the ending first, fill in the story while effectively walking backward through it, and then post it in chronological order. Just because you write it out of order doesn't mean you have to post it that way.

You do not need an outline:

Outlines are great for a LOT of people, and for others it can be a point where you just freeze. You don't have to know Everything That's Gonna Happen - even if it's an original piece. It's a rough draft, you can let the story drag you around.

Deleting whole chapters is not a failure.

You can fix words and patch plot holes, but you can't post a blank page and have it accomplish much of anything.

Length doesn't determine value:

You're not lesser than a novelist if you write short stories.

You're not somehow less of a creative or storyteller just because you write 500-1000 words drabbles or 100 word micro fictions.

You don't need 500k words and 50 chapters to be a "Real Writer".

Great big long epic stories and tales are indeed amazing, but someone's not a better writer just cause their story has chapters.

The value is in the story. Sometimes that story takes a million words to tell, sometimes it only need a couple thousand. Sometimes it's something even shorter - two-sentence horror is legit because it's legit.

It doesn't matter how many times it's been done:

By virtue of the mathematically limitless combination of words you can string together in a single sentence, it is impossible for someone to tell a tale the same way you will.

It

does

NOT

matter

how much your story might have in common with someone else's. It doesn't matter how much overlap exists between stories, the details will be different and that's the point. Humans see patterns in everything so you're not going to escape them.

Someone's going to see a similarity in your work compared to someone else's no matter how much you stretch for original or unique - and in trying for that stretch you might lose the important parts of your story and end up with nothing.

It does not have to be "Good".:

It doesn't have to be technically good.

It doesn't have to be thematically good.

It doesn't have to be grammatically good.

It doesn't have to be morally good.

It doesn't have to have a lesson.

It doesn't have to have a point.

It doesn't have to be something anyone else enjoys but you.

It doesn't have to fit inside a specific box or series of parameters in order to be something you can share.

The good guys don't have to win, the bad guys don't have to lose, the abuse can be romanticized - you can write something Specifically Meant To Make People Uncomfortable.

Just... create. Create if it brings you joy. Create if it fills a void. Create if the only worse than creating is Not Creating.

Whatever you make today will be the best you can do, and if you keep doing it and keep trying and keep learning and keep creating, then in a year

five years

ten years

You'll look back - and you'll see progress.

The time passes anyway, so don't let anything stop you from writing. Rest, drink water, do wrist stretches - they're not just for artists, writers need them too. Don't let anyone else stop you.

I'm begging.

Not your own doubts. Not someone else's innocuous or honest or cruel or even "correct" words. If it is spite that hurls you forward, then so be it. Do whatever it takes.

And if it takes too much, then rest.

[fitnessadvicethatfitsinyourlife]

If our species couldn't store excess energy as fat, we would have perished long ago.

Don't let them convince you that fat is bad. Fat is an evolutionary adaptation that we literally could not survive without. Bodies are built different. Fat is just one of the ways they're built. We don't need to fix that, because it isn't an error.

And even if it was an error, we CAN'T just "fix" it. Weightloss is a complicated, multivariate process that we do not have total control over.

Some Bodies literally can't lose weight without restoring to incredibly unhealthy means, and if you have to wreck your health to achieve it, literally what is the point?

We have to change the narrative. Leave the fat alone and focus on the parameters that you can exert much more control over. That will actually correlate to your quality of life. Like:

Building Muscle

Improving Mobility

Improving Endurance

Getting Quality Rest * I say rest, not sleep, because sleep is actually another thing we can't control

Consuming a Variety of Nutrients

Drinking Hydrating Fluids

There are lots of things you can do to help your body do its best, but focusing on the fat is simply not one of them.

[velvetinkkwrites]

A Place in This World is a one shot response to @ekingston's Flash Fic Challenge - four random parameters and 1,000 words max. This is a great writing exercise and I highly recommend giving it a spin (heh).

My prompts: sci-fi | stranded in a different dimension | mutual pining | a flat tire

Thank you to @beca-mitchell for helping me get it to 1,000 words on the nose (I'll take my extra credit, please), and thank you to bff @proudlyunicorn for making me aware of the challenge!

Read it on ao3.

---

Startled, Caitlyn tipped backwards with a frustrated huff as the car rattled in front of her, the force of Vi’s boot in the door nearly caving in the entire driver’s side paneling. 

“What the fuck is this luck?” Vi growled. Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed as she watched Vi drag a hand through her mop of pink hair. “We’re cursed.”

With a scoff, Caitlyn pushed herself out of a shallow puddle, holding tightly to her composure so she might avoid snapping at her partner’s explosive lack of patience. “It’s not a curse,” she retorted, leaning closer to the flat tire that had nearly sent them off the road. “It’s physics.”

The air smelled of metal and something sweeter, like burnt honey. The sky overhead churned in unnatural hues of violet and neon green, the clouds moving like ink in water.

Vi crouched beside her and reached for the shredded tire, half-wrapped fingers brushing against deep scars in the rubber. “Right. Because physics explains a flat tire screwing us over in this nightmare dimension.”

Pink lips scrunched to one side as Caitlyn considered the damage done. She thought maybe they were lucky they’d only lost one tire. “The pressure distribution was already unstable from the last jump, and the terrain here is terrible. This was bound to happen, Vi.”

Vi exhaled – scoffed, more like – and Caitlyn glanced sideways to watch her rest both arms over her knee. “Okay, genius. How do we fix it?”

Caitlyn pushed up her sleeves. “Theoretically? We patch it.”

Vi’s expression went flat, unamused. “I hate when you say theoretically. ”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“How do we theoretically patch a tire without a repair kit?”

“Still working that part out.”

These sorts of hiccups were often solved by spontaneous ingenuity rather than a well-laid plan, Caitlyn thought, as she rummaged through the items they’d gathered while on this job. A mysterious jarred substance from D-516 seemed promising and Caitlyn grabbed it before making her way around the busted old jalopy – their trusted vehicle for dimension hopping.

She worked in silence, using sand from beneath her feet as an additional component for binding the black goo from D-516. Caitlyn was focused, Vi was restless. The wind picked up, carrying an eerie hum through the strange trees that lined the road – tall, spindly things with luminous blue leaves that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“So,” Vi said, interrupting the wind with her words. “Least favorite dimension of the trip so far. Go.”

Caitlyn didn’t look up. “I wasn’t a fan of D-82,” she replied, content enough to give Vi the distraction she believed she was looking for. “Being swallowed by the ground is not high on my list of priorities this year.”

Vi snorted. “Yeah, that was bad. But my vote has to go to the upside-down city.”

Caitlyn paused, her right hand covered in muck, and looked at Vi with a disconcerted brow. “Upside-down wasn’t the problem. The reason D-1601 was horrible was because you thought punching the ambassador was a good idea.”

The way Vi threw her hands up was just… so very Vi . “He insulted you!”

Was that the reason? They’d scurried out of D-1601 with tails tucked because of something the ambassador had said… about Caitlyn?

She faltered, then regained focus and continued applying the compound to the split tire. “That’s hardly relevant.”

Vi huffed and leaned back on her hands. Caitlyn thought to warn her of the water that seeped through the earth here, but her own arse was damp with it, too. At least any side effects would be enjoyed by both of them together. “Whatever. It’s not my fault you’re impossible to compliment.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, but her jaw tightened. The flex of it was visible. Her hand slipped along the tire, flinging black goo to the ground near their feet. Vi wasn’t the first to make such a claim – her mother liked to remind her of that, too. In choosing a career path unbefitting her family name, Caitlyn had made herself undesirable . And what was that if not a woman who could not be complimented?

There was nothing to compliment, after all.

A hand at her cheek drew Caitlyn from her deep and derisive thoughts, shoulders flinching as her eyes flew sideways to meet Vi’s. It was Vi’s hand. Vi’s thumb brushing over the high cut of her cheekbone. A smudge? Grease? Goo? Or was Vi just touching her… to touch her?

Caitlyn froze, staring at Vi whose hand remained on her cheek just a second longer. She saw the moment Vi realized what she’d done. It was written in the way those steel blue eyes went wide, and in the speed with which she retracted her hand.

Good thing she did, too. Any longer and Caitlyn was sure she’d have leaned into that gentle touch.

Vi cleared her throat, rubbed at the back of her neck while Caitlyn returned her attention to the tire. “Well,” Caitlyn said, voice too steady to be convincingly natural. “We’re not entirely doomed.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Vi stood first, offering her hand. Caitlyn hesitated – she always did – then took it, allowing Vi to pull her up. Her hand was big, entirely too warm – it always was. 

Caitlyn rode shotgun while Vi drove, pouring over a holopad with a list of coordinates for their future destinations. The tire held, Caitlyn’s ingenuity once again proving its worth.

“You ever think about staying somewhere?”

Vi’s gentle question drew Caitlyn from her planing, fingers hovering over the holo as she looked at her partner with consideration.

Vi swallowed. “I mean… one of these places. Just pick a dimension and call it home.”

Bright blue eyes remained on Vi, but Vi’s attention was on the road. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

Caitlyn felt that answer in her chest, because Vi had included her in these musings. These dreams of finding a place and making it home – together.

She replied softly. Softer than she probably meant to. “Maybe someday.”

[lochlogie]

At first watch, I was a little perplexed that Lochlan seems so calm after his confrontation with Saxon, with how it ended on a less than positive note. The next time we see him, he's casually and happily reading his tsunami book when Tim asks him about being poor. There's no indication that he's been brooding or stewing in all that. At dinner he's quite perky and excited to try a piña colada. But shouldn't he be at least a little torn up about Saxon reaffirming his rejection earlier?

Then I realized, others have noted how emotionally resilient Lochlan is (he'd have to be to avoid completely spiraling every time one of his siblings gets mad at him, which I'd be willing to bet has happened before), Saxon and Piper are the emotionally unstable ones, not Lochlan. Despite that though, I don't think Lochlan even thinks he took an L here?

In his mind, he did nothing wrong. He's already processed the moral injury of committing an incestuous act with Saxon (possibly at the temple, at the very least before he has his conversation with Saxon). He blames Saxon in his mind, and even though Saxon said "let's just drop this forever please," as I've said before, Saxon was unable to refute Lochlan's argument. So why would Lochlan be beating himself up? He said what was on his mind, Saxon didn't care like always, and things didn't totally implode. That's a win all things considered.

Saxon didn't actually reject Lochlan either. Sure, Saxon didn't want to hang out with him right that second, but Lochlan addresses that with "are you mad, or something?" and Saxon never says he's mad, just that he doesn't approve of being worshipped in that way. Saxon doesn't want to make Lochlan protein shakes anymore, but he gave him permission to make them himself. Saxon still "allows" Lochlan to worship him, just with tighter parameters than before. But to be clear, Saxon is fine with, enjoys, and wants the "appropriate" amount/form of worship. He's not disowning Lochlan at all, just writing new rules for their relationship.

And if there's anything Lochlan is good at, it's doing what he's told. Saxon was giving him a performance review, and he agreed to just deny whatever happened between them. Whether that was for Saxon's sake or because Lochlan still genuinely thinks Saxon knows best, doesn't matter.

So no, actually, I think while Lochlan feels a little embarrassed and guilty that he did something Saxon didn't approve of (as we can see by his nervous glance at Saxon during the Toast), he probably on the whole feels pretty content with where their relationship is currently.

Saxon gave him new instructions, which in a way is tacit forgiveness. If Lochlan doesn't worship Saxon and makes himself a man from now on, things will continue as "normal." Plus with the whole "out of sight out of mind," emotional resilience, and with Lochlan being a people pleaser he's going to prioritize whatever his dad wants from him during their conversation, literally sidelining Saxon because there's a new opportunity to be programmed by someone else in his family.

(Aside: then it made sense to me even more: Lochlan is more upset about being left out of the toast than he is about his conversation with Saxon. Why? Tim never explains why Lochlan is being "rejected." Because Saxon ended on "you know what let's just agree to disagree and never speak of this again," Lochlan can exit that confrontation with a little more clarity. He knows where Saxon stands, he has new guidelines for keeping Saxon's love and attention and approval that he can follow. He doesn't know why Tim won't let him drink alcohol during a family toast. He doesn't know what he did "wrong" or how to fix it)

I think it's only after he dies drinking the protein shake (that according to Sam, Lochlan thinks are Saxon's leftovers, possibly deliberately left there by Saxon as some kind of peace offering) that things finally start to click for Lochlan, that emulating Saxon in any way is a bad idea and is only going to keep hurting him.

[gudguy1a]

Error: Bad Parameter while deleting pages in Acrobat

Okay folks – this is a problem that has been going on for OVER 8 damn years… But I had the same BLASTED, FRIGGIN‘ problem as well.Did not at first trust the solution but I found a USABLE adobe link on another site and decided to “EXPLICITLY” follow it, line for line. And guess what: We HAVE to do the COMBINE PDFs step… I just used another one pager XLSX or Word file, with something like 10…

[becksmoon120]

*sigh* I’m just tired at this point…

This is a highly random thought that popped into my head just now but the bit about it being a “creative decision” has always struck me as odd. Like I kind of get it, Tim was probably just tired of people saying that this was just the “gay wee-woo show” and decided to shock us I guess? But then there’s the whole “realism” thing but the promo for the next episode is water being on fire? Ok Tim. Sure.

The random thought I had was what if they were using AI to write the two parter and obviously that would have caused a scandal and so now they feel like they have no choice but to run with the storyline and that’s why they are so adamant about Bobby staying dead. Maybe they used it again for this episode but put in more specific parameters to fix their mistake and that’s why the characters all felt so off (although I would expect even an AI trained on the show would know that Buck wouldn’t be as fine as he presents after only two weeks or that Eddie would have been on a plane immediately after hearing the news).

Picture this, we’ve had the feeling for a while now that they aren’t putting as much effort into this season because they’re getting ready for the Nashville spinoff. Writers being told to focus more on the new show so they start using these tools to get these episodes of the old show out when they’re supposed. However, now their characters are becoming more unrecognisable and the storyline are becoming less realistic (not more Timothy) until boom dead Bobby.

Is this a crazy leap in logic? Yes. Does the theory have holes in it? Probably so many. Is it likely true? Who knows. But does this explanation hurt less than the writers and creative team behind the show caring so little about the characters, the actors (not just Peter Krause) and the audience that gave them all their success over the years and who consider(ed) this their comfort show? I don’t know.

But I am going to start crying again soon if I keep thinking about it so I’ll just say this. It is not a bad thing for shows like this to be unrealistic. Most people don’t watch this show because they are expecting a hyper-realistic portrayal of firefighters nowadays. They fell in love with the characters and their relationships with each other and were routing for them even when they made poor decisions. The world is shitty and terrifying these days, if we wanted realism we would turn on the fucking news.

Anyway, it’s too late, I’m crying again.

I’m going to give it until the end of this season and if it doesn’t get better, I’m taking the fanon version and going with that. Not even Buddie canon can save you now because I don’t even trust ye with that. More on that later.

Edit:

Okay it’s the next morning so I’m slightly more coherent. None of this is meant to make the writers who do care about the show look bad. I understand that it’s up to the people above them to decide how to move the story forward. I don’t mean any disrespect by comparing the writing to AI gibberish. It’s just something I thought of last night in frustration and decided to put it out there. I am also not trying to go all conspiracy theorist either, looking for clues in the episodes. It’s just one of those things where if we ever do find out that is the case, I won’t be as surprised as I would like. Hurt, yes, but surprised? No.

[zeroseuniverse]

Wires Crossed

Word Count: 1.0K Summary: “So,” She said, pushing off the table, “what’s next? Do you let me help, or do I just stand here and look pretty?” Yeosang’s gaze lingered on her for a beat longer before he turned back to the display. “If you’re going to stay, make yourself useful. The disruptor isn’t finished, and I don’t have time for dead weight.” Pairing: Yeosang X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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The workshop was hidden deep within the ruins of an old industrial district, concealed by layers of security both physical and digital. She adjusted her headset, glancing at the directions on her tablet. Each step closer to her destination felt like walking into a legend. No one met Yeosang unless they had to, and even then, the encounters were rare and shrouded in secrecy.

A rusted door came into view, flanked by flickering motion sensors. She reached for the access card she’d been given, but before she could insert it, a mechanized voice crackled through a hidden speaker.

“Step back.” The voice was calm but unyielding, as if the speaker already doubted her competence.

She sighed, holding their hands up. “I’m here for the resistance. Mission code Theta-9. You can verify it.” A pause. Then the door creaked open just enough for her to slip inside.

 The workshop was a labyrinth of technology: glowing blueprints floated mid-air, devices hummed softly on cluttered tables, and wires coiled like metal vines. The air smelled of solder and ozone.

In the center of it all stood Yeosang.

He didn’t look up immediately, his attention fixed on a holographic display filled with scrolling data. His expression was serene, almost detached, as his fingers moved through the interface like a conductor commanding an orchestra.

“You’re late,” he finally said without turning around.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the lack of acknowledgment. “Or maybe you’re just early.” She let the door shut behind her, leaning casually against a table. “You’re Yeosang, I presume?”

The faintest twitch of a smirk appeared on his lips before he turned, his gaze sharp and assessing. “And you’re the operative who’s supposed to keep the resistance from falling apart in the field. Let’s hope you live up to the hype.”

“Bold words from someone hiding in a workshop,” She shot back, though there was no malice in her tone. Her eyes wandered to a nearby table where a small device emitted a soft glow. “Is that the drone disruptor?”

Yeosang stepped forward, blocking her view. “It’s a prototype. Not a toy. You don’t touch anything unless I say so.”

She crossed her arms, smirking. “Touchy. You know, I could help. Tech isn’t exactly foreign to me.”

Yeosang narrowed his eyes. “You think you can keep up with this?” He gestured to the sea of machines and data displays around them.

“Only one way to find out,” She replied, already reaching for a diagnostic tablet on the table.

For the first time, Yeosang hesitated. Instead of brushing her off, he tilted his head, watching as she deftly navigated the device’s interface. she made a quick adjustment to the output configuration and held it up for him to see.

“Looks like your disruptor’s feedback loop is unstable. I tightened the parameters. Should work better now,” she said casually.

Yeosang stared, the faintest trace of surprise flickering in his eyes. “Not bad,” he murmured. “But let’s see if you’re as useful under pressure.”

Yeosang didn’t waste time with further pleasantries—he turned back to the holographic display, his fingers moving with precision as new schematics unfolded in midair. She watched him work for a moment, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

“You know,”cshe said, breaking the silence, “for someone who supposedly doesn’t trust anyone, you’re taking a big risk letting me in here.”

Without looking up, Yeosang replied, “Trust has nothing to do with it. I needed someone who could make the delivery without breaking it. That doesn’t mean I trust you to do more than that.”

She bristled at the slight but hid it behind a smirk. “And yet, here I am, already fixing your prototype.”

Yeosang’s hands paused over the hologram, and he glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “It wasn’t a complete fix,” he said flatly. “But it was... sufficient.”

She snorted. “Wow. High praise.”

Yeosang ignored her sarcasm and returned to his work, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. She stepped closer, scanning the holographic schematics. The disruptor device he’d built was leagues ahead of anything she’d seen before, its complexity matched only by its elegance.

“This is brilliant,” She admitted, genuine admiration creeping into her tone. “The way you’ve routed the power flow to minimize energy loss—most engineers wouldn’t even think of that.”

Yeosang’s head tilted slightly, as if intrigued by her observation, but he still didn’t respond.

“And these dampening fields,” She continued, gesturing to a section of the blueprint. “They’re calibrated to avoid detection while still neutralizing the drones. That’s... risky. But clever.”

This time, Yeosang turned to face her fully, his expression finally betraying a hint of interest. “You know what you’re looking at,” he said, more a statement than a question.

“Enough to appreciate good work when I see it,” she replied with a shrug. “Guess you’ll just have to decide if you’re impressed or annoyed by that.”

Yeosang studied them in silence for a moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. Then, to her surprise, the corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest trace of a smile.

“I’ll let you know,” he said, his tone lighter than before.

She chuckled, leaning against the table. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like people, you’re not as insufferable as I expected.”

“And for someone who barged into my workshop, you’re less incompetent than I expected,” Yeosang shot back, his voice dry but not unkind.

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the tension between them shifted, replaced by a mutual spark of respect.

“So,” She said, pushing off the table, “what’s next? Do you let me help, or do I just stand here and look pretty?”

Yeosang’s gaze lingered on her for a beat longer before he turned back to the display. “If you’re going to stay, make yourself useful. The disruptor isn’t finished, and I don’t have time for dead weight.”

“Careful,” She teased as she moved to the workbench. “Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you enjoy my company.”

Yeosang didn’t respond, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he handed her a toolkit said enough.

[physalian]

So I make my disdain of things like astrology and tarot pretty clear to people who know me—I’m just very bad at keeping my “you are an idiot for believing in this nonsense” look off my face and out of my voice.

I don’t hate them when people do them for fun, and I see the “It’s just for fun stop taking things so seriously” defense everywhere, but I’ve never actually met anyone irl who doesn’t take this stuff seriously.

And by “take it seriously” I mean stuff like:

Oh I won’t date a Taurus, won’t even look their way I am destined to be with a Capricorn if you’re a Taurus how dare you speak to me

Mercury is in retrograde and that is the sole cause of my current funk and not my agency in my terrible choices

My horoscope told me to quit my miserable job, so I did, and now I’m about to be evicted because I lost my only source of income and had no fallback

My tarot reading told me something bad was going to happen so now I’m in a horrible mood and I will make it everyone else’s problem

Literally, I have never met anyone who isn’t either like me and thinks this stuff is nonsense, or who hasn’t totally bought into it. No one who “just thinks it’s cool”.

I know why this nonsense happens—people feel a lack of control in what’s happening in their life and it’s comforting to say “the stars did it I am not at fault here and all will be okay”

Except when it is your fault and waiting around helplessly for the planetary alignment to fix your shit is a waste of time you won’t get back.

I don’t hate that astrology exists as a concept, I hate when people act like they’re just puppets on a string and take no accountability for their emotions and actions. Like “lol sorry I’m a bitch can’t help it I’m a Pisces”

No Susan, you’re a bitch by your own choices and admission and you need to reckon with that.

And people know I hate this stuff, and yet those who do believe in it still think giving me advice like “well as a Gemini you should—”

Nope. No thanks. Not helping whatsoever.

The other problem here being that astrology and horoscopes and psychic readings and tarot and fortune cookies, like personality tests, give such vague parameters for why you must be this specific thing, ignoring that you very much also fit these other groups with equally vague parameters.

Is the Myers-Briggs test full of shit? No. Am I going to define my entire life by such a limiting label as “INTP” and not consider that I am a human and not a robot, capable of multitudes?

No.

Saying this now because the same gullible person I know who uses their AI chatbot “friend” as a therapist is on their way to go buy tarot cards and I just *know* that it’s not for shits and giggles.

[fincalinde]

I haven't had time to look at Tumblr for a few months now, but for unrelated reasons a post about characterisation in fanfic came across my radar and I disagree with it enough to have something to say.

I'm not going to link the post itself, since I don't even remember if it was popular or not and anyway I like to think I have manners. But essentially it said that as long as you're capturing a character's mannerisms you can make them do anything. Real people behave in a range of ways that aren't always logical, and so do characters. Therefore convincing characterisation is not about what a character does, but how they sound while doing it.

I appreciate the sentiment behind this, but no. This is bad advice. Not just bad for fanfic characterisation, but for characterisation in general. For one simple reason.

Characters are not real people.

Real people are indeed inconsistent and illogical and random. Not because human actions are selected on the roll of a dice, but because you can never fully know someone. Sometimes you can be wrong about someone. Sometimes someone can be wrong about themselves. I'm not disputing any of that.

But characters are not real. They are defined within certain parameters. Those parameters don't have to be fixed and eternal, and they can certainly be deconstructed and debated, but debating the definition of a thing does not mean that thing does not exist. Let's not get too existential here.

Here is the actual key to characterisation. It is not 'you can make Blorbo do anything and it's convincing as long as they do it with the Blorbo aesthetic'. It's 'how can I get Blorbo in a position where it is convincing they would do X?'.

There's no need to be afraid to take a stance in the 'would Blorbo do this?' debate. What matters is your interpretation of the source (or your vision for your original material). Do you think Blorbo would never do X under any circumstances? Can you imagine a scenario where they might do X after all? What would that look like? Is that a story you want to write?

Mannerisms and speech patterns are important, but they fall into the category of 'necessary but not sufficient'. As a rule, anything that can be introduced at the line edit stage should not be the foundation of your approach to characterisation.

[wandringaesthetic]

A thing I like about fanfic, and I want to phrase this carefully because I don't want to be insulting to anyone, is that it's not professional writing.

Certainly not all published books are good, but 99% of them (there are notable exceptions) meet a certain basic standard of professionalism. Published books will usually fall within certain style parameters.

Fanfic.... Doesn't. And that means sometimes the writing is bad, but usually it means the writing is a little overdone or a little overcautious or a little repetitive or could have used a copy editor because the writer accidentally a word. A lot of this stuff is fun to read anyway! Every now and then the writing is excellent but experimental.

If you are any kind of aspiring writer reading fanfic lets you get a feel for Bad Writing in a way that reading a lot of published books won't because there are some mistakes professional writing rarely makes. But those kinds of mistakes are mistakes that are relatively easy to fix versus writing that may be professional but is boring or uninspired or wooden or badly plotted or what have you.