#compact caption

[selenasgirltiffany21]

[anything-pov]

Since the person didn't answer i'll request

An Emily X Reader SOFT LAUNCH

where the BAU slowly finds out that Emily is in a relationship (w/a woman)

reader not apart of bau(maybe a chef??)

;))

Thanks for the request 🫦 Enjoy! 😉

The Soft Launch 🚀

For weeks, the BAU had been on alert. It started small, cute, funny little, cryptic Instagram stories from Emily.

A photo of her hand over another, fingers intertwined beside a wine glass and a plate of what looked like the most divine pasta any of them had ever seen.

No caption. Just a timestamp and a playlist linked, “Melt into You, Slow Jazz Sundays.” Then came the lunches. Homemade. Artisan, even. JJ had noticed it first.

“Emily,” she murmured one afternoon, during their usual break between rough cases, "did you pack that yourself?" Emily's eyes cast down to the perfectly layered beetroot and goat cheese tart in a glass container, simply shrugging.

"Got lucky."

Morgan, of course, had smelled something fishy when a bouquet of rosemary, not flowers, rosemary, had shown up in Emily's office with a note attached, "Don't forget the salt this time, baby. -Y."

But no one had answers. Just assumptions.

Then came the night at Rossi's, a few weeks later.

The house was buzzing with laughter, expensive liquor and the warm hum of an early spring evening. Rossi was holding one of his infamous parties, the kind where the wine flowed like a river.

Strauss had gotten tipsy enough to sing Piano Man on the baby grand. Rossi had, apparently, spared no expense on the food this time. "Hired someone big," he said with a smirk to JJ as he poured her another.

"Almost impossible to book, but I pulled strings." Emily, nursing her scotch, froze, "Who?" Rossi grinned, holding his glass a little tighter with excitement.

"Y/N Y/L/N. Apparently she trained in Paris and Tokyo and is probably going to get her second Michelin star before thirty." Emily's glass paused at her lips.

"What?" Rossi looked her over, "You've heard of her?" Emily blinked once, swallowing her worry, "You could say that." And then, like fate tipping its might hat, Y/N walked into the room from the kitchen.

Carrying an amuse-bouche like it was a crown jewel. She had short, tousled hair tucked behind one ear, arms inked with delicate fine-line tattoos, a lavender sprig, a sunflower, a French knife, and a crescent moon.

She wore her pristine chef's jacket rolled at the sleeves, her apron tied snug around a frame that was compact but clearly muscular. She glowed. And when her eyes met Emily's dark irises...

Everything stopped.

The room, the noise, the laughter, every bit of it melted. Y/N lit up, face breaking into the warmest smile and she crossed the space in a few long strides before stopping just shy of Emily's side.

"...Babe," she whispered, "Didn't realise you were here."

Emily looked dazed, then chuckled, running a hand through her hair, "Neither did I." Y/N leaned in and kissed her temple, and the collective BAU jaw hit the floor in unison.

"Holy..." Garcia whispered from across the table, "That's the chef?"

"THAT'S the mystery girlfriend?" Morgan mouthed to the blonde. Y/N turned to the group, cheeks slightly pink but utterly composed. "Hi. I'm Y/N. Sorry for the surprise. I wasn't told who the event was for."

Her eyes flicked to Rossi, "Your assistant booked me under 'D. Rossi Enterprises.' Very sneaky." Y/N smiled to the older man. "You're the Y/N?" JJ blinked, "The pasta queen from Instagram?"

Y/N laughed, nodding her head gently, "Guilty."

And just like that, any awkwardness vanished. Y/N floated back to the kitchen like she was born there, commanding heat and flame and plating like it was an artwork.

Emily, never far from the archway between kitchen and dining room, watched with an expression none of them had ever seen on her. Not even during a case crack.

Admiration.

Adoration.

The soft kind of awe that made her cheeks flush and her lips curl even when she didn't know she was smiling.

At one point, music drifted from the speakers, and Y/N, mid-sear on scallops, turned with a grin and swayed her hips to the beat. She danced around the kitchen like it was a small stage, a pan in one hand and a plating tweezer in the other.

"Is she dancing?" Reid asked in a whisper, "While cooking?" He turned to Garcia, the blonde shrugging her colourful shoulders, "Gordon Ramsay would cry," She whispered back, "Happy tears."

Then came the food.

A roasted duck breast with blackberry glaze, served over parsnip puree and heirloom carrots that had somehow sculpted into tiny roses.

Pasta with lemon cream and shaved bottarga. Each plate was a piece of art, every bite more transcendent than the last. A moan escaping every FBI agent's lips.

As dessert was served, something chocolate and impossibly airy, Emily stood and joined Y/N in the kitchen, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Can I help?" Emily murmured against the shell of Y/N's ear, Y/N just smiled, still focused on plating. "You already are." And when Emily kissed her cheek in full view of the team, Y/N leaned into it without a second thought.

Rossi raised a glass, "To Chief Emily Prentiss, and her not so secret anymore girlfriend." The team clinked glasses, JJ still wide eyed, Morgan nodding with impressed approval and Garcia already on her phone trying to find an open reservation.

- - -

Later, when the dishes were done and Y/N was tucked under Emily's arm on the porch with a glass of wine, Emily whispered, "Soft launch, huh?"

Y/N just turned to her and smiled, "Felt more like a firework finale..." Emily kissed her slow, like gratitude, like peace, like home. "Couldn't be prouder and more in love with you."

[entities-of-posts]

Told this to a different blog but I think they stopped posting, and this one is just perfect to tell this to.

Had a really vivid dream where the Fear Powers had a strong foothold in the US, to the point where you could find ways to keep your Beholding GF from violating your privacy on Reddit's r/avatarpartnerproblems.

But the dream was about me scrolling through the Instagram story of a guy who found a new crypto scam coin called Buriedcoin. He was shocked to find that the coin had crashed so quickly that no one fell victim to it. The red line just decended off the page. Next two posts were of him just scrolling.

"I'M STILL SCROLLING 💀💀💀"

The last post was a picture of his window with nothing but dirt compacted outside. The caption read "okay uh life update im down here now"

The only comment I can still remember is this: "Imagine falling for a scam as obvious as BURIEDCOIN and thinking you didn't deserve it lol rip bozo"

New rule: No more Magnus before bed 😅🤣

Average crypto bro risk awareness.

[taylorklosscomeout138]

We have clear proof Kaylor has been fueling the lore these past couple of days on 11/10, 11/11, and 11/13... but what about 11/12 Red TV anniversary? Oh trust me they didn't skip it. Wouldn't miss it for the world.

Below is Karlie's caption from 11/12/24 very clearly calling back to the "your kitchen or mine" tweet which was... when?

2012. When Red originally released.

Notice the date and time it was posted. 3:08pm on Jan 17th

The compact mirror's total with SHIPPING (inside joke) is $38.17. Because of course it is.

And if you weren't convinced that Karlie is a big time muse on Red, here's a car license plate from the Begin Again MV. It is code for Karlie's full name and birth year

11 EZK 92

11 = K (number to letter)

EZ = Elizabeth

K = Kloss

92 = 1992

[lizhaoyu]

Forbidden - Part 1

(A/N: Hello~ I'm dropping one part of this Iso x reader, before I move on to the requests. Ya'll have been THIRSTING for Iso smut, I fear (I simply must indulge you all). Lovelove, Nightowl~)

Cold!GN!Reader x Gymrat!Iso

MODERN AU

(Reader is implied to be feminine, because of makeup, but hey, who says men can't wear makeup, huh? I certainly wear makeup on a daily basis >:()

The mall’s bright lights reflected off the glossy floor, blending into the buzz of conversations, the chime of store doors opening, and the faint beat of a pop song playing over the speakers.

You barely paid attention to it all.

You were seated across from Sage at the food court, absently plumping your already plump lips in a compact mirror. Sage, ever chatty, had been on a video call with her boyfriend, Iso, while sipping on a bubble tea.

“Babe, guess who I’m with?” she giggled, flipping the camera to you.

You didn’t react. You were used to being shown off like some prized possession. It wasn’t that you disliked Sage; Sage was probably one of the few people you tolerated. But you weren't one for social interaction beyond surface-level niceties.

Instead of acknowledging the camera, you continued fixing your lips, your large, doe-like eyes flickering briefly to the screen before returning to your reflection.

Iso, on the other hand, froze mid-rep at the gym. The weight he had been lifting hovered for a moment before he placed it down, eyes locked on his phone screen. His heartbeat quickened, though he didn't quite understand why.

“Cute, right?” Sage teased, noting his expression. “My bestie loves makeup and taking pics. Basically an Instagram royalty!”

Iso barely registered Sage's words.

There was something about the quiet way you carried yourself, the indifference in your gaze, the way you seemed entirely uninterested in him or anything else beyond your own little world. It was... mesmerizing.

He cleared his throat, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted, but his voice lacked its usual teasing tone.

You hummed, finally acknowledging them, your voice soft but disinterested. “Are we done?”

Sage laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” She turned the camera back to herself, chatting away with Iso, but his mind was elsewhere.

Even after they ended the call, he found himself replaying that fleeting glance, wondering why, for the first time in his relationship, he felt something shift inside him.

Something he wasn’t supposed to feel.

-

Iso lay in bed, staring at his phone screen, the dim glow illuminating his face. Beside him, Sage slept peacefully, her breathing steady, her arm draped loosely over his torso.

And yet, he was wide awake.

He hadn't meant to do this. He told himself he was just mindlessly scrolling, just passing time. But somewhere between checking notifications and liking random posts, his thumb hovered over Sage’s followers list.

It was too easy to find you.

@ yn.aaa

Iso clicked on the profile before he could stop himself.

Your feed was a curated dream; pastel tones, soft aesthetics, and effortless poses that made you look almost unreal. Something like Royalty. You barely captioned your photos, yet each post had thousands of likes, comments flooded with admiration.

People adored you, and you never seemed to care.

You didn’t try to be alluring, but you were. The way your lips curled slightly, the way your big, glassy eyes stared through the screen—unbothered, untouched.

Iso exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this.

And yet, long after he locked his phone and turned away from the screen, your image was burned into his mind.

-

Iso was supposed to be at the gym. That was his routine, his escape, the one place where his mind didn’t wander. But today, Sage had insisted he come to the mall instead.

“Come on, babe, you never shop with me,” she had pouted, clinging to his arm. “It’s just for a little bit, plus my friend's coming too!”

That last part had made him hesitate. But now, here he was, following Sage and you through endless rows of makeup counters and designer displays, feeling completely out of place.

You barely acknowledged him.

You were polite, offering the occasional hum or glance, but mostly, you were lost in your own world, swatching satin lippie shades on your wrist and examining foundations under the store lights.

You didn’t chatter like Sage did, didn’t seek his attention. If anything, you seemed indifferent to his presence.

And yet, you were stunning.

The way you moved, slow and deliberate, picking up only the most expensive makeup without hesitation. The way you’d tilt your head slightly, assessing a product like you were critiquing fine art. Your long lashes fluttered as you tested a new mascara, your lips pursed ever so slightly in concentration.

You were beautiful (hi men can be called beautiful btw im a man and im beautiful) in a way that was effortless. Unbothered. Distant.

Iso found himself watching you more than he should have.

“You take forever,” Sage whines to you. Then, with a giggle, nudging Iso.

Iso chuckled, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah… guess so.”

You glanced at them then, your gaze unreadable. For a brief moment, Iso wondered if you had noticed the way he’d been watching you.

Then, just as quickly, you turned away, focusing back on the shimmering palette in your hands, as if he were nothing more than background noise.

-

Iso shouldn’t be thinking about you.

But he was.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, he found his mind wandering to the way your fingers had delicately brushed over the sleek packaging of a designer lipstick. The way you had barely spoken, yet still held the air of someone untouchable. Unreachable.

What would it be like to change that?

He knew it was wrong. Knew it was dangerous.

But the thought crept in anyway; what if he bought all that expensive makeup for you? What if he placed it in your hands and watched your reaction? Would you still be so indifferent, or would you soften, even just a little?

What would it take to melt the ice around your heart?

Iso ran a hand over his face, frustrated. He was spiraling, losing control of his thoughts. Sage was beside him, the girl he loved—the girl he should be thinking about.

And yet, it wasn’t Sage’s face that lingered in his mind.

It was yours.

-

The mall was bustling as the trio wandered through, Sage leading the way with you trailing just behind her, brows furrowed in concentration as you examined a new makeup line.

Iso, walking silently behind them, kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his mind wandering, his thoughts distant.

It wasn’t until Sage's voice broke the silence that he snapped back to the present.

“Hey, check that guy out!” Sage pointed to a tall figure walking past them, his biceps bulging beneath the fabric of his tight shirt. “Big biceps, right?”

Your eyes flicked briefly to the man, but you didn’t seem to care for his face.

Instead, your gaze lingered on his arms, the defined muscles clearly catching your attention. For just a moment, your lips parted, and there was a quiet appreciation in your gaze before you glanced away, the indifferent mask returning instantly.

Sage, noticing your subtle reaction, smirked. “Told you, didn’t I? They love guys with big biceps.”

Iso, who had been walking with his hands shoved in his pockets, froze at her words.

His heart skipped a beat, and an inexplicable rush of unease hit him. His eyes darted between you and the man, a slow realization creeping into his chest.

You had looked at the guy the way he had hoped you might look at him. It wasn’t just a passing glance, it was a flicker of something deeper. Something… appreciative.

Iso flexed his own biceps subconsciously, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt, wondering if that was what had drawn your attention.

He’d worked hard for them at the gym; every rep, every set had been an effort to improve himself, to grow stronger. But now, he was aware of something more: you seemed to notice, maybe even admire, strength in a way Sage never had.

Was that the key?

“Yeah, they're into the muscles,” Sage continued with a playful grin, oblivious to the tension building in Iso’s chest. “You should see the guys they follow on Instagram. It’s all about the muscles.”

Iso didn’t reply.

His mind was racing. His thoughts shifted from the man with the muscles to the realization that he had the same kind of physique—strong arms, defined chest, and all the effort he’d put into his gym sessions.

Could this be the key to catching your attention? Could something as simple as his own body be what you were seeking?

The idea gnawed at him, his stomach twisting. He shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t be questioning everything about his relationship with Sage. But there was a pull, an undeniable curiosity about you that he couldn't ignore.

As you turned your attention to the next makeup display, your disinterest in him clear once again, Iso felt a pang of frustration. He had everything you seemed to like, but you barely spared him a second glance.

What would it take to get you to notice him?

The thought lingered in his mind as they continued to walk, and Iso realized that this time, he was more determined than ever to find out.

-

(A/N: How's this one? Lol. I was having that male ovulation phase, just had to write about Iso. How do we feel about this one, chat? I DO NOT CONDONE STEALING SOMEONE FROM A RELATIONSHIP. Anyway, time for my plug- follow me on twitch.tv/nightowlzxz!)

[todays-xkcd]

People may complain about readability, but even with jpeg compression, extracting the data points is usually computationally feasible if there aren't too many of them.

Compact Graphs [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[Left: graph of points plotted along two axes, headered by:]

Variable 1: X Axis

Variable 2: Y Axis

[A arrow pointing to the right.]

[Various semi-transparent numbers in different colors stacked on top of each other, headered by:]

Variable 1: Hue

Variable 2: Label

[Caption underneath:] Design tip: you can make your graphs more space-efficient by using hue and label for the first two variables, instead of only turning to them once you've used up the X and Y axes.

[mcdoodles-art]

so i redesigned my mutant xenomorph oc after seeing romulus

pls dont repost my art or remove my captions. reblogs help more than likes. <3

large version of the infographic under the cut, with text ID included!

[text ID: Displayed is a series of graphics and data which convey some sense of lore about the oc. From right to left, top to bottom: first, there is the creature's shoulder tattoo design, replete with a Weyland-Yutani corporate logo and an identification barcode. Next, we see the text PROPERTY OF WEYLAND-YUTANI, SUBJECT IX, followed by two lists of traits. The first list is as follows, with a series of bulletpoints represented with DNA strands, to denote the creature's genetics: human, fungus, xenomorph. The second list is represented with generic, triangular bulletpoints and is as follows, hyper pyrophobic, increased intelligence, warblooded mutation, responsive to training, small/compact form, primarily quadrupedal. The next portion of the graphic is below a large biohazard symbol, and reads: CAUTION! this subject contains trace amounts of the pathogen S0-3959X.91-15, aka prometheus fire and/or 'black goo'. handle with care. do not terminate the subject. keep contained at all times. crew is expendable in event of containment breach. the following is a series of generic lab information, most of which is redacted. the artist admits to needing to fill space to make the graphic look nice. rip.]

[autisticlancemcclain]

wip tease number god knows, truly

The phone doesn’t ring for more than two seconds. Which is crazy, because New Altea is an unfathomably huge number of lightyears away and also Lance’s phone signal is perpetually garbage.

“Ahoy,” greets Allura when the line connects, because she is strange.

“Ahoy,” Lance greets back, because he loves her.

They sit in silence. He can hear, vaguely, the clicking sounds of compacts being opened and closed, and the particular humming noise she always makes when she’s putting on eyeliner.

It occurs to Lance, for the first time, that they have known each other so long and so closely that to the outsider, their relationship might be quite strange. The thought makes him smile widely.

“So,” he says.

Allura hums again. Deliberately, this time.

Lance takes another long time to answer, digging the toe of his boots into the ground. He spies a worm wiggling in the newly churned dirt and bends down to pluck it, writhing, out of its hovel. He quickly snaps a picture and sends it to Pidge with the caption, ‘didn’t know you were on Earth today.’ She responds with a grotesquely realistic custom clown emoji.

“There is a possibility. Perhaps. That I do not actually want to be a farmer.”

“No shit,” replies the Queen of New Altea And Also Lots Of Other Things Lance Can’t Remember, blithely.

Lance sniffs haughtily. “This is quite the revelation, you know. I’ve had four panic attacks about it.”

“You have an anxiety disorder. You had a panic attack about malevolent gut bacteria last week.”

“…This is true.”

“Also, whenever I feel you need to be humbled, I ask your mother to send me stuff from your childhood. There’s a video in particular I enjoy of you sobbing about the prospect of being anything but an astronaut. You looked at a cornfield and threw up. You were four, I believe.”

Lance does, actually, vaguely remember that. Well, he remembers Luis writhing on the floor, weeping with laughter, and kicking him in the shins. He also remembers the cornfield, if only because he distinctly remembers lobbing a piece of corn at Luis’ head, also.

He was a very expressive child. Also, Luis is a turd.

“I am entitled to a period of self-reflection,” Lance says primly.

“It has been an Entire Year, knobhead.”

“I needed time to collect my thoughts in peace and on Earth. I died, you know.”

“Oh, did you,” says Allura drily. “I wonder how that went.”

Lance’s smile widens. He lets her have this one. “Fuck farming, okay. I’m bored. I love my family to pieces but I need to be closer to drama. Give me a job.”

“That is a garbage application, Leandro.” He hears the distinct sound of a nail polish bottle being shaken. “I should hire someone more qualified.”

“How about you hire deez nuts.”

“Hm,” she says, and he can hear her grinning. “On the other hand, I need a second in command who is unafraid to challenge me. You know, in case I grow corrupt with power.”

She pretends to deliberate for a moment.

“You’re hired. I’ll send someone to come pick you up tomorrow.”

“Is that someone going to be a hot, tall Altean in a slutty outfit?” Lance asks hopefully.

She can’t help a laugh. Lance grins triumphantly. “You’re fired.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’ll think about it.”

She hangs up.

[disability-can-be]

Video description:

Cory, a man who uses a powered wheelchair, addresses the camera from an airport. He wears a gray hoodie and jeans and his legs are crossed. He shows off a Wheelchair Survival Toolkit, a small rolled-up fabric toolkit in black. The Toolkit is unfolded to show some of the tools inside, including hex keys, pliers, and tape. Cory finishes the video from a different location in the airport.

Transcript:

"This is the Wheelchair Survival Toolkit. It has all of the tools you would need if your wheelchair is damaged by an airline. It's got everything from hex keys to screwdrivers to duct tape to zip tis, all kinds of products. It easily went through security this morning so it didn't have any issues at all and now, I'm getting ready to board my flight. "The Wheelchair Survival Toolkit easily unfolds so that it can stay in a compact space. It also hangs easily on the back of my power wheelchair. This enables me to travel with peace of mind.""The Wheelchair Survival Toolkit easily unfolds so that it can stay in a compact space. It also hangs easily on the back of my power wheelchair. This enables me to travel with peace of mind. "Be sure to check out wheelchairsurvivaltoolkit.com and use the code CURBFREE for $10 off."

Caption from @curbfreecorylee on Instagram:

The Wheelchair Survival Toolkit gives me peace of mind when I fly, and that is a game-changer. If you'd like to get one for yourself, just go to WheelchairSurvivalToolkit.com and be sure to use the promo code CURBFREE for $10 off!

[hirocimacruiser]

EP82 Toyota STARLET

[NEW model introduction]

With 3-part mesh grill

Evolving into "Super Spicy GT"!

Announced and released on May 9th

text: Yasuyuki Morino

There's a saying that seeing is believing, and the shock of the new Starlet GT's mask is certainly indicative of this.

Its appearance, consisting of four round projector lamps and a three-part mesh grille, is so striking that it could pass for a new compact car from BMW.

It would not be surprising if the moment you open this page you exclaim, "Wow, so this is a starlet!" or "Seriously? This is a minor!" and receive cold looks from those around you.

The previous GT was sporty enough, with a special grille and bumper, bonnet power bulge, and roof spoiler as standard equipment, but the new model's impact is on a whole different level.

For that reason alone, expectations are high for the evolution of the internals as well. However, the performance of the 1.3-liter high-mechanical twin-cam turbo remains unchanged at 135 horsepower/16.0 kgm (125 horsepower/15.50 kgm in L0 mode), and there are no changes to the chassis specifications.

You might be disappointed and think, "Oh, no!"

However, since the weight of the car remains the same at 860kg (MT), the power and torque weight ratio is 6.37kg/ps & 53.8kg/kgm. This is a figure that surpasses its big brother, the Corolla FX-GT, and rivals the Civic 3-door SiR-II (6.18kg/ps & 65.6kg/kgm), so there is no room for complaint. The chassis is also the same as the previous minor

55 tires are standard, and LSD and triangle performance rods are available as options. It's a suspension that can stand up to turbo power, so there's no problem. In other words, the looks have finally caught up with the extreme contents, making it a truly "super hot hatchback." For those who value cool over speed, here is the inside and outside of the GT.

The Gi version, which combines the same equipment and a naturally aspirated engine, is also available as before.

We won't allow March to run away with the lead!!

The normal type, centered on the Soleil, also had its headlights and grille redesigned at the same time, giving it a cuter look. This has made it possible to distinguish between the sports and normal types of characters.

The design of the car has become clearer, but to be honest, I was surprised at how much they made in a minor change after four years. They even changed the tailgate brace to achieve a cleaner rear view, so the cost was not cheap.

Having come this far, it is unlikely that the next-generation model will be released within a year or so. It can be thought of as a measure to extend the life of the model for another two years.

For that reason, the new model also appeals in terms of color, with four new body colors and new seat and trim materials being adopted. Improvements have also been made to some of the mechanisms, such as improved performance on low-mu roads for the 4WD and improved vibration resistance for the diesel engine.

Furthermore, the lineup and equipment have been strengthened with the introduction of the Soleil Extra Package and S Sports Selection, and air conditioning has been made standard on the Gi, S, etc. (however, the canvas top has been discontinued).

Moreover, the boasted low price remains unchanged. The Soleil Extra Package is priced at 974,000 yen (3-door AT), which is about 50,000 yen cheaper than the 1-liter March i Z-F with almost the same equipment!

PIC CAPTIONS

●The 4 round headlights and 3-part mesh grille create a GT look reminiscent of BMW compact cars.

●Let's take a look at the equipment of the GT. Upper left: No major changes to the instrument panel, which is based on gray and black. Upper right: The seats and door trim ornaments have been changed. The black base creates a Spartan image. Left: Optional 5.5JJ x 14 aluminum wheels. The standard is a new design full wheel cap.

●Left: 3-door with fog lamps embedded in the bumper

・Vehicle equipped with the Soleil Extra Package (photo on the right)

The instrument panel is equipped with one-touch power windows.

Right: Front and rear seats in subdued colors

[thesleeptokenarchive]

Social Media Update: High Water

From September 18 to 23 2021, Sleep Token released multiple posts teasing the songs on their forthcoming sophomore album, This Place Will Become Your Tomb

On this day, High Water, the eleventh track, was teased with the below video and caption.

‘High Water’ shall be yours. TOMORROW - ‘This Place Will Become Your Tomb’. Vinyl and compact disc embodiments have now been replenished, and can be attained by following the below hyperlink. https://sleeptoken.lnk.to/ThisPlaceWillBecomeYourTombWE Worship.

[FB | X]

[9w1ft]

Lord, that eye in the compact picture. It just feels like Taylors eye. Kinda like the original eye theory, just cant unsee it as her. Coupled with the caption. The angle does really match that midnights photo shoot you posted. They are just unhinged!

it’s so…. 🫠

[misanthropologymajor]

to boldly go...

this is so based on my current tng watch and crippling addiction to cod fanfic of all things

Science Officer!f! Reader x Bridge Crew! 141

Star Trek: TNG AU (pt. 1?)

Human! Price- Captain of the Enterprise 

Human!Gaz- helmsman/operations officer (liutenant)

Klingon!Ghost- security-officer-turned-first-officer (lieutenant commander)

Betazoid!Soap- new security officer (lieutenant)

Half Vulcan!Reader- sciences officer (lieutenant junior-grade), [giving them various nicknames because (y/n) feels clunky]

wc: 4k

warnings: rearrangement of rank (Starfleet doesn't have enlisted officers & the equivalent ranks would not be bridge officers), reader is the youngest but the other ages aren't mentioned, abduction, Ghost was raised by humans in a Worf-analogue-situation, (Ghost's parents were killed in a Romulan attack), slowburn, no smut, written before i started playing mwii

Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no one has gone before!

As the turbo-lift doors opened, the familiar sounds of the Bridge Crew's squabbles filled the ears of the newest Chief Science Officer.

"Cap', 're you sure that MacTavish can actually read the Ferengi from this distance? I wouldn't put it past 'im to just wanna stir sumthin' up."

"Ghost, ye know damn well I wouldn' lie abou' somethin' like that."

Quietly walking to her station behind the caption's chair, the half-Vulcan began scanning the readings of the Ferengi ship. The Ferengi ship was peculiarly small and old-fashioned- at least a century old.

"Gaz, can you take us closer? One third Impulse, please." At Gaz's affirmation, Captain Price stood from his chair and walked towards the monitor at the front of the bridge. "Junior-grade, how many life signs can you read."

She startled, looking up from the inlaid monitor. "Only two, sir. It's a small ship, though there should be room for around thirty crew." Her gaze followed Price's to the front monitor, where she saw the short loop of Ferengi video broadcast. Both Ferengi men's large ears and prominent brow ridges glistened with sweat.

Gaz looked up from his controls. "Captain, the broadcast isn't coming from this ship."

"The distress beacon is, though. And the ship is definitely Ferengi." Ghost looked over Soap's shoulder to the security console.

"Price, be careful. We're getting close to the neutral zone." Gaz indicated to his monitor.

Price returned to the captain's seat, centered in the bridge. "Soap, keep scanning for other vessels. Ghost, hail the Ferengi ship."

"Price, they aren't receiving our hailing frequencies."

"Is anyone else thinking of Earthen anglerfish right about now?" the half-Vulcan mumbled. Then, louder- "They're down to just one life sign, Captain Price."

"They don' have shields up, Cap'n," Soap called from the security station. "I don't feel anything from the ship, either."

“Ghost, prepare an away team and get some protective gear. We’ll keep track and be ready to beam you back, but we need to know what’s happenin’ with that ship.”

“Gaz an’ the kid with me. Go get a compact medikit in case there’re any survivors, an' Gaz can tell us why it may 'ave stopped.”

As Gaz stood from his chair, the science officer rushed towards the turbo-lift, heading briskly down to the medbay. Swiftly getting the required supplies, she headed towards the transporter room, meeting with Gaz and Ghost.

"Three to beam to the co-ords Soap sent down." Ghost led the trio to the transporter bay, phaser in hand.

As they faded into shimmering white light, all three prepared themselves for the unknown of a seemingly empty Ferengi shuttle on the border of the Neutral Zone.

Following the briefest moment, they came back into awareness. Ghost was the first to reach full cognizance, the other two shortly following. The most immediately apparent thing was that the ship had not been abandoned by normal means. The cockpit was in disarray, and a trail of a mixture of unknown substances ended abruptly in the doorway.

At Ghost's indication of safety, the Vulcan activated the scientific tricorder to scan the trail. As the analysis loaded, she noted from the corner of their eye that both Gaz and Ghost tensed. Ghost's mask made the sudden lack of motion vividly unsettling. The tricorder loaded with a small chirp, indicating the presence of Ferengi and Romulan DNA. Abruptly, the shuttle lit up.

The ship began moving closer to the Neutral Zone. Soap's voice echoed from their communicators, "Wha' the hell are ye doin'? The Neutral Zone is right fuckin' there!"

"We're not trying to, Soap. I'm looking at the controls now." Gaz rushed to the lit-up console.

"Ghost, there's evidence Romulans here. We should get out of here, sir."

As the First Officer acknowledged the Science Officer, more words echoed from their communicator badges.

"Transport to away team, we've lost your location. There's some sort of interference." Tensions became palpable as the situation quickly devolved. Gaz frantically tried to turn the ship back towards the Enterprise. Ghost and the scientist worked on figuring out what left a Ferengi shuttle lost at the edge of the Neutral Zone.

Price's voice echoed through the ship, "Hold on, Away Team, reeling you in with our tractor beam." The ship jolted with the connection of the tractor beam, easing back towards Federation Territory.

Gaz began hitting the console, clearly frustrated by the lack of response from the equipment. "Ghost an' Cap, this shuttle isn't bein' controlled by this panel. This has gotta be a trap."

As two Humans, a Betazoid, a Klingon, and a half-Vulcan attempted to return the away team to the Enterprise, they were faced with a Romulan Warbird removing its cloaking device directly next to the Ferengi shuttle.

The Ferengi Shuttle was swiftly drawn in by the Warbird's tractor beam, half the distance from and twice the size of the Enterprise.

The science officer tapped the communicator on: "Sirs, this is not standard Romulan battle practices. Deception, yes, but blatant disregard for the Algeron Treaty? In just about two hundred years of conflict, they've never done anything like this."

"When did you become an expert on Romulan politics, Junior-grade?"

"Not the time, Garrick," Ghost aimed his phaser at the door between the away team and the interior of the Romulan ship. The other two quickly followed suit.

As the interior of the Ferengi ship dimmed, the shuttle bay door of the Romulan Warbird opened up. The ship slowed into the bay, and the environmental system hissed. Gaz was the first to feel it, and Ghost was the last.

As Ghost fought to keep his eyes open, he heard the half-Vulcan mutter about "anesthizine."

Gaz woke in a cell, his phaser and communicator on the manned desk beyond the forcefields. A few cells across the circular brig, he could see the Ferengi from the broadcast in a shared cell, and to their right was Ghost. "Ghost, can you hear me? Are you able to see any way out?"

"Damn Romulans cuffed me an' took my fuckin' mask. The door out of the cells is to your left, the kid's to your right."

"I can hear you, Ghost," she frowned. "They have our comms and phasers, and there's no way they've kept us in Federation Territory. Cap's gonna need to get approval from Admiral Laswell to follow us."

"Soap won't like that," Gaz said, standing from the cot to get a better view of the space. "Junior-grade, you said this wasn't normal for Romulans. Do you think we're working with an extremist group?"

"Definitely. I was awake when they were cuffing Ghost. They weren't in standard issue Romulan Star Empire Uniforms, and there's some wacky mods to this Warbird."

Ghost cut in, "At least they wan' us alive. We'd be long gone if they didn't think we could do sumthin' for 'em."

"'Specially with their views on Klingons and Vulcans. Nasty blokes."

"Thanks for reminding us, Gaz." She pressed her hand to the force field, searching for the weak point she knew wasn't there. As they searched, the brig doors opened with a hiss.

Three Romulans walked in, bearing phaser rifles. The centered one spoke: "I had hoped the Federation would be stupid enough to send a ship into our territory. Imagine my delight when that little ship sends me some a Klivan, a Hevam, and a Yyiyao wrapped in a nice little bow." (Romulan derogatory terms for Klingon, Human, Vulcan)

"Oh, what a shock: the Rihansu is racist. Where the hell are we?" (Vulcan [and Romulan] for Romulan)

"Hold your tongue, Yyiyao. I haven't killed you yet, but my mercy has limits. You don't even know why you're here yet!"

"Who the hell are you?" Ghost stood up abruptly, startling the non-speaking Romulans.

"Now, the Klivan is asking the right question! Who am I? And why would I capture two Feh'rengsu, a Kilvan, a Hevam, and a Yyiyao?

They call me Commander Makarov, and I will free my people from the barriers of the Neutral Zone and the Federation altogether."

"And you think that will happen by kidnapping a First Officer, Flight Control Officer, and a Science Officer?" Gaz sat on the cot in the corner.

"I'm not that foolish. You're nothing more than bait, tempting your precious Federation into breaking its own rules."

"You can't seriously think our Captain is stupid enough to follow us withou' givin' proper notice?" Ghost questioned.

"Oh, Klivan. He's already following us," Makarov grinned.

"I still don't get why you're tellin' us this." Gaz laid further into the cot.

"Either he's gloating or he's trying to get something out of us, be that intel or our charming personalities." The half-Vulcan wrung her hands, silently pleading for the Enterprise to be careful and give the correct notice.

The Ferengi began tittering with each other, briefly pulling the attention from the Starfleet officers.

"You three were victims of circumstance. But these two-" Makarov sneered. "These two will not try to swindle the sword of the Romulan Empire again."

Makarov's men turned off the barrier to the Ferengi cell. Each grabbed one Ferengi man and dragged them out of the brig. Makarov left the brig, questions hanging in the air.

"What a total dick."

"Thought you were supposed to be too logical for needless profanity."

"My Vulcan father lost the debate that determined what planet I was raised on. Before the Acadamy, I went to an Earthen public school, Gaz."

"Fuckin' hell you two, not the time," Ghost chastised. "Gotta work out what that bastard wants from us."

"Could be they want to kickstart a war against the Federation, relations have been easing in the past few-" Gaz cut himself off as the doors opened.

Makarov stepped through into the brig. "How lucky was I to have Captain Jonathan Price's crew, led by the Ghost, stumble on the ship I hadn't gotten around to destroying yet."

"What've the Captain or I got to do with you?"

"Don't tell me you don't remember us, Klivan! Not after our grand impact on your childhood."

Ghost closed his eyes and took a deep breath, setting his jaw.

"Now you remember me. I'll fill your underlings in. I was just an Uhlan, aboard the Perseus. A Klingon traitor sent us the codes to Khitomer's security system. Your Ghost was the only survivor."

Ghost's history was not frequently discussed on the ship, but his presence as a Klingon in Starfleet command made it clear that his life was full of unusual circumstances.

"And on top of that, your Captain is the one who convinced my previous Commander, that ryakna, to abandon the honor of our great Empire."

"The Cap's peace negotiations under Laswell? Not letting another Federation ship blow you all up for your secret base in the Neutral Zone? That's what this is about?" Gaz looked incredulous.

"He should have defended the great Romulan Empire! Why should we listen to rules set by your Federation." Makarov sneered. "The might of our great fleet could have destroyed all the Federation sent after us."

As Makarov continued on about the power of the Romulan Empire, the science officer tuned out. She focused instead on attempting to work out a method for contacting Captain Price from what was likely at least an astronomical unit away. She'd already ruled out the possibility of accessing their communicator unit, cobbling a communicator out of their tricorder, and breaching access on the communicator of the Warbird.

"But what sweet revenge, taking the sole Klivan survivor and two other crew from that peacenik, your Captain Price. How poetic that you will start the empirical expansion my people have been deprived of. I will return for you when your Federation breaks their own rules."

As Makarov left the brig, a quiet tension fell over the officers.

Gaz was the first to break the silence. "Do you think the Cap would be mad enough to follow after without getting Laswell up to speed?"

"Will the Romulan contacts deem this an acceptable reaction from Price in the case that he is this mad?" They buried their face in their hands.

"It doesn't matter what Price does, so long as we get the fuck off this damn ship."

"Ghost, what he said about your parents-"

"Doesn't matter."

"I know it doesn't, but I just want you to know you're allowed to be angry about this even if you don't remember it."

"Interesting take, coming from the Vulcan," Gaz interrupted.

"Half Vulcan. Born and raised on Earth."

"Neither of you are helpin'. Migh' as well just wait for Price 'f you're gonna keep gettin' distracted." Ghost pressed his hands against the force field of his cell. As each officer sought out their cells' unlikely flaws, they listened for any sounds around them.

After what could have been anywhere between ten minutes and an hour of searching, a set of footsteps approached them.

"Your Captain has demanded proof of life from us. Your scientist is coming with me." A Romulan with a jagged scar running down his face entered the brig. He approached the center cell and bound their hands, escorting them out of the brig.

The half-Vulcan yanked her arm from the Romulan's hold. "I can walk myself." She then ignored Gaz's protests, hoping that they were unnecessary.

Following a long walk, she was escorted onto a dark bridge. The Enterprise Bridge was displayed on the large monitor in front of the room. Price was in his Captain's chair, Soap above and behind him at the security panel. Both sets of eyes gently lightened at their Junior-grade, visibly unharmed and still slightly fighting their escort.

"See, Captain, unharmed. The other two are in the same condition, but I couldn't just release all of them, you see." Makarov brushed his hand across her face, earning three sets of glares.

"Lieutenant, are you, Gaz, and Ghost okay?" Price ignored Makarov's assurance.

Before she could begin her sentence, Makarov grasped her by her chin. As she wrenched herself from his hands, he spoke. "You've seen she's alive. My patience wears thin."

Even with the distance, she could see Soap's knuckles grip his console. "We're not followin' ye into the fuckin' Neutral Zone without word from her. S'bad enough ye didn' let our First Officer up."

"When I got grabbed to come up, Gaz and Ghost were okay. I wouldn't trust-" Makarov's hand clamped over her mouth, cutting her off. She had to fight the urge to bite the bastard.

"I didn't bring her up here to give away all of my surprises. Return her to the brig." Makarov looked over his shoulder to the scarred Romulan, who had brought her up.

She fought damn near the entire way back down, leading to another Romulan joining her escort. While she knew it would be fruitless, doing nothing felt more wrong. She felt like she'd wasted any opportunity to formulate a plan with the Captain, and hadn't fought against their captor enough to be respectable. Would Soap judge her, or, worse, would Price?

She shook the thought from her mind just as she returned to the brig. They moved her to the cell previously occupied by the Ferengi, where she was now unable to see Ghost and considerably farther from Gaz. They left her hands bound, and one sat at the guard station.

Unwilling to risk giving intel to the guard, all three sat in relative silence once she confirmed that Price had been in contact.

Gaz was humming an old Earthen song she couldn't quite place. Every so often, she would sigh dramatically. Ghost was the only one to remain entirely silent.

After about an hour, the guard received three trays at the door and delivered one to each occupied cell. Each tray contained an unappetizing green biscuit and a small cup of a grey drink. She and Gaz each took a half-hearted bite; Ghost refused to even look at the tray.

The half-Vulcan stood from the tray without taking a second bite. Instead, she chose to lay in the cot and nap—what was the worst that could happen?

It seemed that the worst that could happen was the ship going into a red alert, their guard leaving them trapped as he went to a battle station. The emergency lights flashed, and she could understand almost every other word of a Romulan emergency alert.

The alert seemed to indicate that they were under attack not by the Federation but by another Romulan vessel. She rubbed her bleary eyes and stood up.

"Just our luck— someone's attacking, and it's not Price." She smacked at the force field holding her in the cell. She could hear Ghost attacking his barrier as well and could see Gaz beginning to do the same.

"How do you know it's not Cap?" Gaz paused his attack.

"The emergency alert specified something about a T'liss, a bird-of-prey. They'd have said ih'calear if they'd translated the Enterprise's class."

"Since when do you know Romulan?" Ghost's voice echoed from the cell to her right.

"It's really not too far of a leap from Vuhlkansu, Commander. I took a couple classes in it at the Academy."

The alarm continued to go off, and the half-Vulcan did her best not to fret. From the size difference alone, a bird-of-prey against a warbird shouldn't have even been a blip in the radar. She strained to hear about a d'deridex, another warbird, but the alert kept repeating that the combat was against a T'liss class vessel.

What would a separate Romulan general do if one found them in this brig? Would they seek to continue the relative peace with the Federation by releasing them back to the Enterprise, or would they decide that the three weren't worth their lives and kill them, or worse, send them to a Romulan prison?

"Junior-grade, I can feel you worrying through the damn wall. Price or Laswell'll come, stop your fuckin' panickin'." She snapped out of her anxious spiral, mumbling a bit of gratitude to her commanding officer.

It took nearly an hour before the alert stopped its loop. It took a further forty minutes for anyone to check the brig. None of them expected the familiar Romulan to be the one to walk through the door, followed by their previous guard.

"Nikolai, you were the bird-of-prey?" Gaz beamed. The negotiations between Nikolai, Price, and Laswell predated the half-Vulcan's time as a bridge officer, but she had seen him on the screen, briefly, as she'd taken some data from the bridge.

"Best ship I could get with little notice from Laswell. Heard my old sublieutenant was causing issues."

"Thought you'd finally gotten out of military work, Nik. How'd you get even a lil' thing like that?"

"I have friends everywhere, Ghost."

The scarred guard reluctantly opened each cell door and unbound the wrists of the Klingon and the half-Vulcan. Ghost didn't respond, but she rubbed her wrists before introducing herself to Nikolai. Ghost grabbed all of the confiscated equipment, taking it for his crew.

"Good to meet you. Let's get you all back to the Enterprise, where you belong." He escorted the trio to the vehicle bay, where a bird-of-prey waited. Nikolai took control of the ship and navigated it towards the Federation edge of the Neutral Zone.

"Why would Makarov release us to you?" The half-Vulcan couldn't keep from questioning.

"The daeus would never have approved of Makarov's methods. The only way his plan worked was if it flew under the radar that he had blatantly disregarded the treaty in a way that was so obvious to the Federation." Ghost cut in for Nikolai.

"Basically. Definitely helped that after I retired from military, I started working for a Senator who wants peace with your Federation."

The return to the border of the Neutral Zone felt much shorter despite taking nearly twice the time. They flew with easy conversations with Nikolai, who admonished any crew who even thought about engaging in distasteful behavior towards their guests.

As they neared the Enterprise, Gaz couldn't convince Nikolai to come aboard and visit with Price. While Ghost stayed out of the enticement, the science officer leaned on and encouraged Gaz.

"We've done enough stretching of Algeron Treaty. Your Enterprise nearly got a light-year in to the Neutral Zone before getting the sense to contact me."

The trio gave Nikolai their fond farewells, and Soap came over their communicators to organize their transport onto the Enterprise. After they shimmered onto the transporter pad, Soap and Price ushered all three to the medical bay.

After being medically cleared and cleaning up, the bridge crew sat down for dinner in the Captain's quarters. Price had yet to emerge with his contribution to the otherwise replicated meal.

"How did you know to get Nikolai involved?" Gaz sat across from Soap.

"Mate, d'you ken that Vulcans are telepathically inclined? Our scientist thought so loudly abou' Makarov's plan that I could hear it from the Enterprise. Turned our ass around and Laswell got in contact with Nik." Soap leaned to his left and ruffled her hair.

Pointed ears warming, she pushed Soap's hand away. "MacTavish, maybe you've just got massive range on your crazy Betazoid telepathy."

Soap persisted, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Hen, I'd have heard the Lt. or Gaz if it was just that. You were loud an' clear from a light year away."

Price's door opened to the Captain, holding three bottles of wine. "I thought we all deserved somethin' a little stronger than synthehol after the shit we dealt with."

Ghost nodded from his position across from the half-Vulcan as Price took his seat between them at the head of the table. Price opened the wines, handing them out to each officer to fill their cup with their selected beverage.

The bridge crew ate with light chatter, deliberately avoiding the topic of the overly-Empirical Commander. There would be plenty of time to discuss the ambitious Romulan in the coming days.

The half-Vulcan struggled to ignore the touchy nature of the Betazoid to her left and the Captain's comforting touches on her hand. She focused on her meal and the First Officer across from her, not wanting the Betazoid to sense her flushed discomfort.

Ghost had never fully removed his mask in front of her before. She tried not to think about how ruggedly attractive he was, letting loose with his friends and her. Was she a friend now? Her line of thinking left her confused and slightly flustered, though she hoped it indicated that he at least thought of her as a friend. "Junior-grade, you've picked your drink up and sat it back down without taking a sip three times now. You can relax, luvvie."

Never in a million years would she have anticipated the First Officer using a pet name for her. She could have sworn her pointed ears were so warm that they were steaming, a flush spreading across her entire head. She choked on the sip she took to hide her embarrassment.

Soap patted her back to help her cough as Gaz gently admonished Ghost. "Our girl doesn't need that shit from you, Ghost." Ghost just laughed, seemingly in on the joke.

A stern "Boys!" from Price seemed to end the joke that the half-Vulcan was trapped outside of. The other three sat up straighter for the briefest of moments, playing into a joke.

After a more collective evening of conversation, the bridge crew each returned to their quarters. The half-Vulcan donned her sleep clothes and lay in bed, questioning the day's events. Her thoughts drifted between her Romulan abduction, the unaccounted-for Ferengi, and the dinner—what had Price meant when he called her "their girl?"

As the day drifted out, she imagined what strange new worlds they may encounter the next day.

Star Trek Guide (probably a little inaccurate, there's so much star trek in the world):

Klingons: humanoid warrior species with pronounced forehead ridges that go to about the coronal suture of the human skull. they often have long dark hair and distinctive facial hair- in essentially perpetual conflict with Romulans for the majority of the 23rd and 24th centuries

Betazoids: humanoid species with no physical differences from humans except for pure black irises. they have telepathy in both concrete thoughts and emotions

Vulcans: humanoid species that pride themselves on logic above all else. Many are capable of a form of telepathy known as a mind meld, which is part of the intimate life of Vulcans. They are closely related to Romulans. Both Vulcans and Romulans have upturned eyebrows and pointed ears. prior to 370 AD, Vulcans were very warlike. A philosopher at the time led the transformation of society from violence to logic (Spock is a notable half-human-half-Vulcan)

Romulans: humanoid species that prioritizes conquest, in conflict with the Federation and Klingons. as Vulcan evolved from violence to peace, some dissented and left the planet to settle on the other two planets in that star system. Romulans were born from the dissenting Vulcans and indigenous populations of the settled planets. Some Romulans also have brow ridges in a "V" on their foreheads, although others are indistinguishable from Vulcans.

Ferengi: humanoid species that prioritizes profit above all else, and are notorious for their misogyny.. typically hairless, with large skulls, disproportionately large ears and brow ridges, orange skin, blue fingernails, and sharp teeth. (yk what no matter how accurately you describe the Ferengi, it's difficult to picture them without a picture)

[rna-world]

GOD. FUCKING HELLLLL I FINALLY MANAGED TO FINISH SOMETHING THAT EXPLAINS THE ANATOMY OF HOW MY LITTLE GUYS WORK.

Its a bit weird but I love strange spec biology so I hope this is all understandable

I'm very proud of what I came up with

[Image ID]

The title is "OBJECT ANATOMY"

Column 1 reads:

"All objects contain

A small, but compact brain, as well as a few other ganglion-like structures near the limbs for sensory processing

A 2 chamber stomach

An organ that seems to combine the liver and kidneys When the object dies, all of the organs dissolve back into nox very quickly, making it hard to study their structures. However, based on some X-rays, it seems that the organ placement is extremely varied and grows in place over time. Galliacs can regrow organs, similarly to a sea cucumber. Nullics, only partially."

Below, there is a doodle of a circle guy with their arms on their sides with a slightly overlapping caption that says "This is all very normal to them they never think about this stuff like ever"

Another paragraph below reads: "I'm not even getting into all the different limb mutations there are. Objects love to evolve and change all the fucking time they're little freaaaaks"

Column 2 covers their Respiratory system. It reads:

"They have no use for lungs. They breathe through extremely small spiracles in their limbs, like a centipede. There's not too much to note here, objects do not require as much oxygen to live and as such are ok with living in lower oxygen areas. This is a good thing as the higher oxygen levels there are, the larger they become and that's really scary and I'd rather them stay the smaller size they are. Objects adapted to marine environments may have striped gills on their limbs. Pesmexians and Multimodisae have adapted to environments with thick fogs of dangerous chemicals by having special organs either break down or filter these things out, meanwhile other objects would simply just suffocate or breathe in something that would kill them."

Below this, there is another image of Fluorine, an OC of mine, with the caption "Technically an extremophile!" with an arrow pointing at her

Column 3 covers their sensory organs. It reads:

There is an image of an object's arm and leg. There is a diagram of the closeup of the skin on the leg, showing the small spiracles and sensory hairs, as well as the deeper skin layers and vessels that run underneath.

"Objects do not have the best vision. All of them are nearsighted in some way. They must rely on a combination of senses to navigate. They are able to sense the air through millions of microscopic hairs that cover all parts of their limbs with the exception of their palms and feet. An object would be able to sense or "smell" something that they wouldn't be able to normally see."

There is an image of an object's arm and leg, with the arm containing a tuft of long fur on the elbow, and the leg having a few long hairs sticking out of the ankle, looking like whiskers

"Galliacs sometimes have elongated hairs, giving them the look of fur or whiskers. This is more common in places where vision isn't as necessary."

[END ID]

[toomuchracket]

it’s probably a vid of dword girlie like being the hot bitch in charge that she is in like the coolest outfit, perfect blowout and makeup like being nonchalant and effortlessly cool- like i think she is guilty of not knowing how hot she actually is

YES a pre-girls night vid of you sipping a vodka cran then touching up your lippy with a pat mcgrath compact mirror, totally candid - matty sees it and texts you like "just moaned so loud at that tiktok of u that i woke up the baby from across the room lol", and then sends a selfie of him and lyla where she's trying to grab the phone, captioned "she just spoke btw. she said 'i have the most beautiful mummy in the world and i think she should come home immediately so she and daddy can give me a baby brother or sister'. and that's verbatim. no cap" lmfao. he literally fancies you so much it's insane. HE'S insane. but people agree with him! most of the comments on charli's tiktok are like "can't even blame matty like look at her. can he fight" lol. you're hot!! <3

[quartzitess]

Alrighty! New itfts’s out time for me to theorize like alil idiot.

_________________________________ ’

Right now I'm starting to notice a pattern, especially for clocks character. From what I can see he's becoming more aware, more sentient, he's not a strange host like creature (ei. Algebraliens.))

And from what I can see, a small snippet of an alternate clock (who I will be addressing as obj c, for the sake of simplicity) setting up some popcorn, maybe sitting down at his couch, to watch a movie? To lounge about? To flip some channels.. and doze off, you know, avarage Sunday evening.

And at the end, as pointed out by user kyndal47 in the comment section of this episode, they point out the fact in the end we can see an image of clock, staring directly back at US, (that's if we bring up the brightness at 11:31, if you wanna see for yourself?)

My first theory is about clock, more specifically, obj c, we see at the end he's setting up some popcorn to lounge, and from what I can observe. During the elimination, we see green turn into a radio as he gets eliminated. If your alittle observer like me!

(Im lying, I literally had to turn on the captions on my second watch because my silly ass forgot too :b!)

You'd notice greens still saying something.

“- There IS no coming back”

“Well, just to philosophize Between two eternities, I realize”

“it’s just a dream,-”

“- and my advice”

“Is don't neglect to”

“have a nice-”

And it cuts off. Just like that.

“it’s just a dream” r. Green says, “ and my advice is don't neglect to have a nice.., it cuts off, I don't know about you but if I had to assume, I'd like to think the ending to that sentence would've been, have a nice dream.

Have a nice dream? Obj c is dreaming, dreaming of himself being “clock” being a strange host - like creature, and more evidence to support this theory!

We hear our blurred out polka say (in reverse, again thank you user kyndal47 for providing this info) she says “change the channel” multiple times, and followed after by “i can hold Everything together for only so long”.

So from what I can see this is a dreaming obj c, subconsciously flipping through channels, while dreamin’! And perhaps polkas in a sense, a key to those channels, as her “dots” are portals that lead to different dimensions! (aka, channels!)

The blurred out polka is almost a glitched/ altered version of polka that's also more aware? Awake in a sense, she's a small and compact card with dots and her dots are portals to different channels, different channels SHE keeps together (by holding Herself together!) Literally! But when we see her fly out of blurry dot she seems less aware? Almost like she forgot what she said.

Its like when she was brought back again, she forgot a part of who she was, I mean heck! The polka we see in show barely even knows where her portals lead too!

Maybe she's in a sense a direct reflection of the tv were possibly watching the show through? The box that holds everything together, the card with millions of channels complied into one, the channels being represented as “portals” she can let people go through.

And the fact what were watchings a strange midnight amalgamation of a dream where our barely conscious obj c sleepily flips through channels while still stuck in a dream? And yet he still neglects to have a sense of control or logic in what happens in it, he forgets what or why he's here for.

He neglected what it meant to have a nice dream.

(tl , dr)

Clock, (the sentient one we see at the end of itft is addressed as obj c) may or may not be in a dream and polka dot is the key to the channels (aka universes) as her dots are portals that teleport to different places, she's stated in the episode “i can hold everything together for only so long” as supporting the theory she may be a direct reflection of the tv we're watching itft through, and pretty much the entirety of itft is a dream that obj c is stuck in.