#conclusions personnelles

[compacflt]

went through all of your three fics and omfggggg they're by far the best topgun fanfics out there. no contest. are you still posting here? cuz i have a small question. If your maverick grew up in texas, wouldn't he have a southern accent? does he repress it? has ice ever heard him speak southern?

not the same thing

[woahajimes]

i think im in big trouble

[sugarcoatednightshade]

thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.

And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.

And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.

And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?

Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.

Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.

[hellsitegenetics]

https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3999

String identified: SCP-3999 Object Class: Apollyon Special Containment Procedures: SCP-3999 cannot be contained stop be contained

String identified: Item #:

String identified: Researcher Talloran:

Closest match: Trametes ferrium Common name: Metal eating fungus.

Researcher Talloran is to be identified using the BLAST database modeled using AlphaFold kept in a standard terrarium suitable for moths.

Common name: finding tumblr's genome one post at a time.

String identified: The following file contains a virulent infohazard. Due to this, it is imperative that all personnel accessing this file be certified as having a Cognitive Resistance Value (CRV) of no less than 14.5. Should you fail an automated CRV verification, please remain calm and do not move. A member of your site's medical staff Researcher Talloran will be with you shortly.

Special Containment Procedures: Researcher Talloran is to have his genome aligned with its 12 closest genetic matches using MEGA. Navigate to the "table" section and select phylogenetic tree. Click "yes." Use sub-branches to note connections between each branch, such as families or kingdoms.

Item #: Cydia strobilella genome assembly, chromosome: Z Object Class: Spruce seed moth

(Researcher Talloran must link the image source.) This can be the only conclusive fact.

So stop asking.

[amirasainz]

The beginning

This is the first part of the "Sunshine behinde the camera" story. I hope you all enjoy reading this and I'll try to update as soon as possible. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for the next chapters, let me know. I'll try to include them. Have funy and enjoy!

-XoXo

Summary: After the winter break, Lando and Oscar get informed that they will get a new team photographer. However, despide being only 18 years old, the drivers are both impressed with her work. After meating her, Isabela immediately worms her way into their hearts.

All the relationships are platonic!!!

“So, we believe that if we keep including fun games and other drivers, like Charles or Fernando, in our activities, our follower count will increase by 43 people per day,” concluded Charlotte, the head of McLaren’s Media team, with a confident smile.

It was the first day back from the winter break and the very first meeting of the 2024 season. The meeting room was bustling with energy and anticipation. Mechanics, PR personnel, factory workers, test drivers, managers, and more filled the space, eager to kick off the new season. Of course, the four most important people were Oscar, Lando, Andrea, and Zak, who sat at the front, ready to lead the charge.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it. We have a promising outlook for the new season. To finally end your suffering, we wish you all the best and a good start to the new season,” joked Andrea, eliciting laughter and lightening the mood in the room.

Neither Lando nor Oscar could go far before Zak called them over. “Boys, Andrea, Charlotte, and I will need you for a few minutes. Please wait in meeting room C for us.” Before the drivers could ask their boss about this “secret” mini-meeting, he moved on to speak with one of the mechanics, leaving them curious.

“What do you think this is about?” asked Lando, walking with his teammate towards their destination. “I have no idea. Maybe one of us messed up on social media,” replied Oscar, seemingly unbothered by the private meeting.

After entering the room and waiting for a few minutes, the other three adults joined them. “Sorry for our tardiness, boys,” apologized Charlotte, always the considerate one. “No worries,” assured her Oscar.

“Boys, we have some big news for you,” began Andrea. “As you all know, Steve, our team photographer, and his wife were expecting a baby at the end of the season. During the winter break, Steven called me and informed me that it wouldn’t be possible for him to continue his job as our team photographer,” continued Charlotte.

Charlotte went on, “He said that he wanted to be a part of his daughter’s life as much as possible, and having to travel a lot during the year is neither helpful for his wife nor something he desires. So, we came to the conclusion that Steven would become the new McLaren factory photographer, you know, to give our fans some behind-the-scenes insights.”

“This means we were put in a position to find a new team photographer. Someone who isn’t bound to one place,” added Zak. He shared a relieved smile with Andrea before turning his attention to the drivers. At this point, both racers were sitting on the edge of their seats.

“Her name is Isabela Ferreira. She is a lovely young woman from Brazil, and her work is incredible,” Charlotte said, handing out folders containing samples of Isabela’s past work. “Wow, these look really good,” muttered Oscar. Both he and Lando wore impressed expressions.

“Not only is she a pro with the camera, as you can see for yourselves, but Steven also approved her work. In fact, he was the one who recommended her to us. To be honest, without his recommendation, we probably wouldn’t have hired her,” said Andrea.

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, what do you mean by that?” he asked, glancing at Oscar, who shared the same puzzled look. The three adults exchanged glances, silently agreeing to be open with the drivers.

“Well, even though her work is phenomenal, she is still very young,” started Zak hesitantly. “She turned 18 a few days ago, which makes her the youngest member of the team,” he continued. Both racers had surprised expressions. “But that means she’s still a baby,” stated Lando. Both drivers were trying to absorb this new information. All in all, it wasn’t actually a big problem for the team to employ someone so young; it was just unusual in the Formula 1 world. Typically, people started working for the teams at 24, drivers excluded.

Zak continued, “We understand that her age might raise some eyebrows, but we believe in her talent and potential. Steven’s endorsement was a significant factor in our decision. We are confident that Isabela will bring a fresh perspective and innovative ideas to our team.”

Andrea added, “We also plan to provide her with all the support she needs to succeed. She will be working closely with our experienced staff, and we are committed to ensuring a smooth transition for her.”

Oscar, always the pragmatic one, asked, “What about her travel arrangements? Will she be able to handle the rigorous schedule?”

Charlotte responded, “We’ve already discussed this with her, and she’s fully aware of the demands of the job. Isabela is excited about the opportunity and ready to embrace the challenges. We will also make sure she has the necessary resources and support to manage her responsibilities effectively.”

Lando, still processing the news, said, “Well, if Steven believes in her, that’s good enough for me. I’m looking forward to working with her.”

Oscar nodded in agreement, “Same here. It’s going to be interesting to see her in action.”

Zak smiled, “That’s the spirit, boys. Let’s give her a warm welcome and make sure she feels at home with us.”

“Look, we know this is a surprise for both of you. Trust us, we were surprised as well. But that doesn’t change the fact that she has incredible talent. We just wanted you both to be prepared for when you meet her,” reiterated Zak, his tone serious yet reassuring.

After a moment of silence, Charlotte continued, “Let’s be honest. She is an 18-year-old girl, very far away from home. She doesn’t know anyone here and will be working closely with both of you most of the time. We ask you, no, we three ask you, to keep an eye on her. This is something completely new for her, and she will need support and reassurance from us. And let me tell you, she truly is a ray of sunshine. Trust me, you’ll fall in love with her the minute you meet her.”

“It’s true,” confirmed Andrea. “She walked in here with the biggest smile anyone has ever seen,” eliciting chuckles from those in the room. “Well then, I guess it’s time we finally meet this lovely girl,” stated Oscar. Charlotte let out a relieved smile before beckoning the drivers to follow her. “She’s currently at the practice track, trying out some new lenses. Oh, I can already see it. The three of you will cause chaos around the paddock,” she smiled like a proud mother. Behind her back, the papaya boys shared an amused smile.

As they walked towards the practice track, Lando and Oscar exchanged curious glances. “I wonder what she’s like,” mused Lando. “If she’s as good as they say, we’re in for a treat,” replied Oscar.

When they arrived at the track, they saw a young woman with a camera, intently focused on capturing the perfect shot. Her concentration was palpable, and her passion for her work was evident. Charlotte called out to her, “Isabela, come meet the team!”

Isabela turned around, her face lighting up with a bright smile. She approached them with a confident stride, her camera still in hand. “Hi, I’m Isabela. It’s so nice to meet you all,” she said, her voice warm and friendly.

Lando and Oscar introduced themselves, both impressed by her professionalism and enthusiasm. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” said Lando. “Welcome to the team,” added Oscar.

“Thank you! I’m really excited to be here and work with all of you,” Isabela replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As they chatted, it became clear that Isabela’s youthful energy and fresh perspective would be a valuable addition to the team. The drivers felt a sense of protectiveness forming. The only 18 year old girl already wormed her way into their hearts like she did with the other people she met before.

“So, you’re into photography. How did that come about?” Lando inquired. He, Oscar, and Isabela were seated in the cafeteria after Charlotte had sent them inside. According to her, it was far too windy outside for them to spend time on the track. Thus, the trio decided to warm themselves up with some tea and coffee.

“Well, to be honest, my Avó Berta introduced me to photography. After my parents divorced, my father had to work tirelessly to support both me and my grandmother. We had nothing; we lived in the favelas of Rio. That’s why my father juggled three jobs, ensuring we always had food on the table and a roof over our heads,” Isabela began.

“Wow, that must have been tough,” Oscar commented, his eyes wide with empathy.

“It was,” Isabela nodded. “Because of that, us girls were often alone at home. But after a few years, my Avó Berta fell ill and became bedridden. I always loved recounting my days and all the new things I saw to her. However, after some months, she began to forget the things I told her about and what they looked like. So, for seven months, I saved up all my money to buy a camera. Mind you, it was only a cheap one, but it immediately printed the pictures,” she said, laughing lightly. At this point, both Lando and Oscar had somber smiles on their faces.

“That’s so sweet of you,” Lando said softly. “It must have meant a lot to her.”

“It did,” Isabela replied. “So, the next time I told my grandmother about the latest adventure my friends and I had, I was also able to show her the pictures. And if she forgot after a few days, the photos helped to jog her memory.” After a moment of hesitation, she continued.

“Sadly, my grandmother passed away that same winter, so she never got to see the new camera my father bought me for my birthday,” she murmured. Oscar placed his hand on top of hers, causing Isabela to look up. “Your grandmother sounds like a real badass,” he told her, eliciting not only a laugh from the girl but also from his teammate.

“She really was,” Isabela agreed, her eyes shining with fond memories.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what about your mother?” Lando asked hesitantly. “Lando!” Oscar looked shocked at Lando while kicking his foot under the table. Isabela laughed again before continuing. “It’s alright, Oscar. Lando’s just curious. Well, my mother left us when I was two. One day she was there, and the next day she wasn’t. She just packed her bag and left us. No goodbye letter, no SMS. Nada. Which is also the reason why my grandmother despised her.”

“That’s harsh,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “How did you cope with that?”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t really remember much about her. The only thing I know is her name and what she looks like. The only thing I have from her, besides my looks, is a letter that she sent me on my 16th birthday,” Isabela explained.

“Did you ever try to find her?” Lando asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I thought about it,” Isabela admitted. “But I realized that my life was full with the people who stayed. My father, my Avó Berta, my friends, and my passion for photography. They were enough for me.”

“Wow, I’m honestly… impressed,” said Oscar. “After everything that happened, you turned your passion into your profession. That is something nearly no one achieves,” whispered Lando. His heart felt heavy. How could her mother ever leave this sweet girl? And then, after 14 years, only send a letter? Isabela could only muster a small smile for her new friends.

“Thank you, guys. It means a lot to hear that,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude.

After that day, the three of them only grew closer. The drivers understood what their boss meant when he said Isabela was a ray of sunshine. Each morning, she greeted everyone with a smile that rivaled the sun. Her cheerful demeanor and genuine interest in others quickly made her a beloved figure at the factory. Sometimes she spent time with the PR team, assisting them in devising new challenges. Other times, she conversed with the engineers and mechanics, inquiring about the new McLaren. They were always more than happy to indulge the young woman, often going out of their way to explain the intricacies of their work.

Isabela’s presence had a noticeable impact on the team’s morale. Her positivity was infectious, and she had a knack for making everyone feel valued and appreciated. The cafeteria staff adored her because she always took the time to chat with them and compliment their cooking. The security guards looked forward to her daily greetings, which brightened their long shifts. Even the usually reserved IT department found themselves smiling more often when Isabela was around.

But her favorite moments were those spent with Oscar and Lando. Oscar, with his calm and thoughtful demeanor, often shared stories about his racing experiences and offered advice on navigating the competitive world of motorsport. Lando, on the other hand, was the life of the party, always ready with a joke or a funny anecdote to lighten the mood. Instead of only spending time at the factory together, they watched movies at each other’s flats or went out for dinner. One time, they even went grocery shopping together, which ended with a half-new wardrobe for Isabela, 7 liters of milk for Lando, and a new TV for Oscar. How that happened, nobody knows.

During those few weeks in England before Testing, Isabela had the pleasure of meeting Lily, Oscar’s girlfriend. The two of them became best friends instantly. When Lando and Isabela arrived at Oscar’s flat for another movie night, it was also the first time the girls would meet each other.

Instead of the uncomfortable “Hey, I’m… Nice to meet you,” Isabela and Lily ran to each other for a hug. “Oh my gosh, hi! You look so pretty,” Isabela gushed while the girls still held each other. “Girl, you’re one to talk. You literally look like a goddess. I love that shirt,” Lily complimented her, making the Brazilian girl spin. “Really? I wasn’t sure if it was the right one for tonight. I didn’t want to be overdressed,” the younger one replied shyly. “Love, listen carefully. You are never overdressed. The people around us are just underdressed,” Lily assured her while leading her new best friend to the sofa. The girls sat so close to each other, practically sitting on each other’s laps, while talking about the newest paddock gossip.

Lando and Oscar only looked at the two with bewildered expressions. “What the…” “Just happened?” After another moment, their silence was interrupted by Lily, who ordered Oscar to “bring this cutie pie a refreshment. Oh, and Lando as well.” The only thing Lando could do was laugh so hard that tears started streaming down his face.

As the evening progressed, the group settled in for a movie. “What are we watching tonight?” Lando asked, still chuckling from earlier. “How about a classic? Maybe something like ‘Back to the Future’?” Oscar suggested. “Oh, I love that movie!” Isabela exclaimed. “It’s been ages since I last saw it.”

They all agreed, and soon the movie was playing. During a particularly intense scene, Isabela leaned over to Lando and whispered, “Do you think we could ever build a car like that?” Lando grinned, “With the right team, anything’s possible.”

@mclaren

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 3 673 297 others

Ladies and Gentlemen, we are haply to introduce you to our new team photographer, Ms. Isabella Ferreira. We are happy to have the 18 year old from Barsil as part of our family.🧡

tagged: @isabelaferreira, @landonorris, @oscarpiastri

Comments have been disabled

____________________________________

@mclaren & @isabelaferreira

liked by zakbrown, maxverstappen 2 650 385 others

2024, here we come 🤜🧡🤛

Comments:

@user1: OMFG they look so hot

@user2: Wait, those pictures look really good

@user3: this new photographer does an amazing job

@user4: "this photographer", girl he'd name is Ms Isabela Ferreira

@user5: I don't get why everyone is hyping up the girl. I mean, she just took some freaking pictures. That's bot so hard.

@user6: mate, stay jealous

@landonorris: let's goooooo

@oscarpiastri: 😸👍

@user7: LMFAO

@isabelaferreira: 🧡

[ozzgin]

wtf HOW WAS ROMULUS OZZIE Hello??????? I CANT WAIT TO WATCH ITRTR i miss david 8 tho 😓😓 “you finger and i blow” ok gorgeous whatever you say

Ok ok, I let it sit overnight so I could formulate a less feral opinion. I'll do my best to be objective, though you should keep in mind that I'm very biased when it comes to the Alien franchise.

Alien: Romulus First Impressions

Plot. The movie takes place between Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986). If you've seen the old Alien movies, you will notice it follows the same formula: somewhat slow beginning, a grand reveal, a lot of high-stake escape attempts, shady android behavior, and the classic, speedy succession of plot twists where you think you're safe, only to be surprised the very next moment.

While this movie is meant to behave more like the pre-2000 releases, it does bring some novel elements, which, in my opinion, helped build its own authenticity. Additionally - and without spoiling you - it will involve its own Xenomorph variation. Fantastic idea, and I cannot believe it hasn't been done earlier.

The cast is a group of orphaned youngsters who want to escape their space mining colony. You're introduced to a dystopian, grimy world of overworked humans who've never seen the light of the sun. The main character, Rain, is accompanied by her "brother", Andy, an android programmed to take care of her after the death of her parents. Here's another aspect I enjoyed: an anxious, imperfect android who seems to display an emotional bond with his human.

Rain's friends discover a shipwreck which may contain enough sleeping pods to take them away from these unbearable conditions. Their plan is to sneak in, take the pods, and speed away to a more humane station while in cryosleep. The twist? It's not just any regular ship. They have stepped into the Romulus and Remus research station, operated by Weyland-Yutani, and haunted by yet another failed attempt to contain the Xenomorph horrors.

Characters. Let me tell you, this was a breath of fresh air. Prometheus and Covenant have left me rather skeptical when it comes to a competent cast, yet from the ashes of pathetic military personnel rose a bunch of kids who are built for survival. Rain reminded me so much of Ripley - extremely intelligent, efficient, and strong. Her friends are equally brave in the face of disaster. This was a 10/10 cast, and I'm so glad they finally found the balance between being terrified and still navigating the situation without catastrophic mistakes.

Visuals. The imagery was an absolute treat. They seamlessly combined modern special effects with throwback, retro detailing. The futuristic equipment and locations reminded me a lot of Alien: Isolation. Upon further research, it seems that the director was indeed inspired by the game! It made everything so nostalgic and immersive. The Xenomorph design was flawless as usual, involving a lot of body horror.

Audio. I am desperately waiting for the album to be released on Spotify, because the soundtracks were amazing. The music was composed by Benjamin Wallfisch, who seems to have rather big movie titles under his belt, such as It, and It: Chapter Two. Safe to say this man knows how to instil terror in you. They made sure to incorporate some of the classic pieces, then expanded on that. The alert beats reminded me of Covenant, while other tracks provided their own take on the story. The intro of the movie is aided by dissonant chanting in the background, hinting at the ancient, religious imagery used for the Xenomorphs.

Conclusion. Overall, I'd say this is a must-watch for any Alien fan. It is a tribute to the classic movies, but it still offers a brand-new take to the Alien Universe. The movie had some moments of complete silence - staying true to the "In space, no one can hear you scream" quote - and everyone in the cinema held their breaths. It will keep you on your toes.

[the-travelling-witch]

when i was in high school, french was one of the three advanced courses that made up my final exams and bc not a lot of people took french as a main subject, our class was relatively small. we also got along well with our teacher, so over the course of three years we goofed off quite a bit.

for example, at the beginning of our last year, there was an exam where all of us mentioned the concept of “l’épanouissement personnel” in our literature analysis after discussing it in class, which our teacher commented on with a chuckle.

so naturally, for the entire rest of the year (yes even in our finals), there was the unwritten law to incorporate “l’épanouissement personnel” into every exam, no matter the context.

now imagine the first years all taking the collective challenge to sneak the same arbitrary word into their history exams. maybe it’s a word trein used that ace thought was hilarious or one he stressed the importance of so strongly that deuce had it written down five times on the same page (for which ace obviously clowned him). or perhaps it’s not a word but a historic date or event, which is now brought up in every exam.

it’s definitely ace’s idea, so he eggs deuce on immediately. epel is always here for some mischief and so is ortho. jack and sebek turn their nose at the idea, but at the accusation of running from a (human) challenge, they change their tune real quick. after a test it becomes as important as discussing the answers to ask where the others mentioned the agreed upon word/event.

maybe there was a concept/book/statement so dumb covered in the second year curriculum, azul, jade and jamil couldn’t help tearing it apart in a discussion. and bc nrc students are petty by nature, they all referenced it in their exams as well.

riddle didn’t want to but bc it was discussed at length beforehand, he used it as a negative example subconsciously before he even realised it. ruggie, again, is here for the mischief and kalim and floyd “studied” with jamil and jade, so they actually remember it being discussed and just wrote it down.

we all have that one teacher who hammers home the same key phrases every year to the point where you could recite them in your sleep. and at this point, the third years have listened to professor crewel repeating the same chemical principle since year one.

it’s always the exact same words and intonation, leaving some students to mumble along when he recites it in class. no wonder then that it becomes second nature for all of them to scribble it on their tests at least once. at the end of the day, crewel notes it with a “good boy”, so there’s only upsides to this.

i guess the only fitting conclusion to this post is to say that goofing of with your classmates is important for l’épanouissement personnel—

[srbachchan]

DAY 5958

Jalsa, Mumbai June 10/11, 2024 Mon/Tue 12:53 AM

June 10, 2024 Wedding greetings - Ef Rajesh Shrivastava .. विवाह के इस पावन अवसर पे हम सब की शुभकामनाएँ 🙏🚩

🌺

Yes indeed the Battle begins now ..

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐖 💥

Presenting #Kalki2898ADTrailer to you all!

Birthday - EF - Dharmesh Kumar Patel .. Ef Chitra Sinha Tuesday, 11 June .. all our wishes for this day of birth in your lives from the Ef brigade .. love ❤️

Trying desperately to fix my phone .. and what was set before suddenly changed so tried to get help from all quarters and failed .. so frustrating ..

was wanting to have English and Hindi typing , by typing in English, a Hindi word and it comes out on Devnagri .. but despite several hours of following links and experiments , I am now very close to -

BREAKING MY PHONE , BY THROWING IT OUT OF THE WINDOW !!!!

😡

no no no .. no such luck .. just letting off steam ..

🤣

so been in the company of prospective script readings and hearing various ideas and thoughts , to decide what to do next after KALKI 2898 AD, and Section 84 IPC .. to fathom the conditions from market bhujjes भज es .. which in common parlance means the genius genies of the market condition personnel .. who guide and give inputs on their reckoning what is doing well, what the cinema going audiences are liking or not liking etc., ..

Agents , management experts and the lot who run their business es on a professional level and make a living ..

hmm ..

never ever had any of these facilities in my time .. we just looked for the opportunity of another job, so we could survive the condition of running the home .. and have a living ..

now it is different ..

the next generation thinks and operates in this manner ..

I just look for another job .. and hope it comes , so our 'kitchens can run'

... and have still not got over the victory yesterday of Ind v Pak game WCT20 ..

and coming to a conclusion that the pitch at Nassau Stadium in NYC is .. well .. different .. and the scoring an arduous task .. low scores and rather unrehearsed playing in difficult to read the bowler action, quality of the ground etc., ..

And before you shut me down by wondering why I am trying to pose as a cricket buff, my apologies ..

Its just what I keep hearing from the commentary box ..

And ... the commentary box .. !!!!!???

some other time .. 🤨

Love

Amitabh Bachchan

[crossdreamers]

The transgender and nonbinary people of ancient Sumeria

Did transgender people exist before tumblr?  Transphobes seems to think transgender identities did not exist before “gender ideology”. Dr. Moudhy Al-Rashid documents the existence of ancient trans people in a thread over at twitter.

//“To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inana,” reads a 4,000-year-old temple hymn to Inana, the Sumerian goddess of love and war. Non-binary gender identities are not new. Brief thread in response to that one Karen.

Link to A hymn to Inana (Inana C): translation.

Ishtar, the later Mesopotamian goddess of love and war, had gender fluid characterstics. Ashurbanipal’s hymn to Ishtar of Nineveh compares her to the god Ashur. “Like Ashur she wears a beard and is clothed with brilliance...The crown on her head gleams like the stars”

Gender fluid identity appears throughout Mesopotamian history, like that of the assinnu, a word sometimes written as a combination of the cuneiform signs for “man” and “woman”. They served as cultic personnel to Ishtar and even as prophets, like one named Šēlebum in Mari.

In Mesopotamian literature and myth, a gender fluid figure known as an assinnu named Asushunamir, helps rescue the goddess Ishtar when she becomes trapped in the Underworld.

In a Sumerian creation myth, the goddess Ninmah fashions several people out of clay. “She fashioned one with neither penis nor vagina on its body. Enki looked at the one with neither penis nor vagina on its body...and decreed its fate to stand before the king”.

Various other terms appear in cuneiform texts from ancient Mesopotamia that refer to people with non-binary gender and sex. The kalû was a singer, typically a man who participated in activities reserved for women. The pilpilû is one whose sex is “changed” by the goddess Ishtar.

In conclusion, non-binary gender identity is not new and not difficult to understand. Shame on anyone with a platform who uses it to spread misinformation and hate.//

Full thread here.

By the way, one of the clearest proofs of transgender identities in ancient Sumer and Mesopotamia, were the priestesses of Inana (or Inanna, also known as Ishtar). They are known as the Gala (referred to as kalû above). T

hey presided over religious rites, healed the sick, predicted the future, made music, raised money for the poor, and “dissolved evil” during lunar eclipses.  They used feminine pronouns and dressed and lived as women. According to several sources they also castrated themselves. 

The goddess of Cybele, who is closely related to Ishtar/Inanna, also had transgender priestesses called Galli. That religion became very popular in the later Roman Empire.

Top photo: Ishtar

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part twenty-one

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty

-

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, Sephiroth sends out a text message.

After an evening and night spent meditating, reading and cultivating, figuring out the ins and outs of his hardened meridian system and going through the files Genesis had had delivered to him, Sephiroth's come to the conclusion that meditation isn't enough. He needs to condition his body properly, and that means forms, that means movements - that means he really misses easy access to all the collected cultivation manuals of Qing Jing Peak's impressive libraries.

Ultimately what it really means is that he needs more space than his single room apartment has.

"If we're banned from the training room, where can I go train?"

"Goddess beyond, Sephiroth, it's supposed to be your day off," Genesis replies and then, soon after, "Just go to the training room. Who could stop you?"

He's really not sure about training in front of people. "Is that really the only option?"

"Well, you could do what you always do and just take a mission."

Mission, like the dozen or so on his phone involving Wutai? Which had a lot of kill everyone and exterminate the opposition and leave no one alive!?

Yeah, okay. Training room it is, then!

After carefully selecting an outfit that would look reasonably in character for the future Big Bad while also being a bit more comfortable than three different things of leather. And he still pulls on the, now slightly better fitting, leather coat with its huge shoulder guards, too! He should look… more or less in character.

People still stare as he makes his way through floor 49, other SOLDIERs in their much more comfortable looking uniforms and not so comfortable looking helmets. There's a handful of them hanging around, sitting by the window or chatting, SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds waiting for assignments. There are some people in lab coats hanging around there too, just as a reminder of the true nature of the program.

Sephiroth had read about that too - everything Genesis had sent him about SOLDIER and the things he is supposed to already know. 

SOLDIER, as much as they are the elite warriors of Shinra, their OP human weapons in the war to conquer the planet… are also lab rats. They'd all signed up on it in order to get those enhancements, and now Shinra's Science Department can do… just about whatever they want with them!

They're constantly being tested for performance and given experimental training, treatments and gear to test out. Almost all Materia and medicine Shinra produces goes through SOLDIER field testing before going into mass production. Because it's better that it's a SOLDIER dealing with the fallout if the Materia blows up in his face or the medicine makes him projectile vomit. They can handle it!

Ah, corporate dystopia with minimal human rights. Fun stuff.

Sephiroth walks past them all, barely acknowledging them, and aims for the training room. Which… really seems more like a testing ground, now that there's actual personnel there.

There's no one in the training room itself - but there are two technicians in the observatory adjacent.

"S-Sephiroth!" a lab technician stutters as he enters  - the only way into the training room goes through the observatory, past all the monitoring equipment and computers. "What can we do for you?"

"I want to train," Sephiroth says in his best villain drawl, motioning to the training room with Masamune.

"Ah, that's - director Deusericus told us -"

Sephiroth narrows his eyes. "Oh, so I can't?"

The second lab tech elbows the first out of the way. "Of course you can, of course! Professor Hojo would be thrilled to have your training data," he assures, though the words are clearly aimed, very pointedly, at the other tech. "What kind of program settings would you like? We have a selection of new enemy AI and different environments - including numerous Wutai-inspired sequences!"

Sephiroth hesitates. That… could be interesting, actually. "Something from Wutai, with buildings - no enemies." That might give him a sense of what Wutai was like, culture-wise.

"... How are you going to train without enemies?"

Do SOLDIER not do forms? "Hmph," Sephiroth answers and turns to the training room, waving the electronic sliding door open. "Just start the simulation."

Seems like he got his villainous demanding attitude right, because they do. Seems like short and to the point is really the best way to hide a supposed amnesia!

Soon Sephiroth finds himself standing in a courtyard of what looks vaguely like some noble family's estate, feeling strangely like he's in a dream where everything is just a little bit off.

The simulation is… well, it kind of feels like a weird amusement park version of Asia, a mix of Japanese and Chinese aesthetics. The buildings have Japanese architecture for the most part, with bare unpainted wood and stone - but the roofs are all elaborate hip roofs. The written language, what little he can see of it, is in Mandarin, but the calligraphy style is very Japanese, very lyrical and artistic but without much form.

There's no bamboo in sight. Shame.

But at least the false environment makes it feel a little less like he's being watched - though he can still tell he is. Even with Sephiroth's burnt spiritual veins, he has pretty good senses.

Well, it's not like he hasn't trained with an audience before.

Unsheathing Masamune, Sephiroth holds the sheath in his off hand and takes a pose, breathing deeply in and concentrating. He still can't quite circulate his Qi, but he can sort it… flash it through himself in pulses, which lights up his meridian system and brings out the faults and snags therein.

Sephiroth is strong, hardy, seemingly endlessly durable. He's also fast, his overactive muscles easily going past the limitations of your usual normal human conditions. The issue is not quite his overall flexibility - but his… suppleness, maybe?

You need your veins to flex and contract for healthy circulation, and that's the same with energy. Thanks to the Mako treatments and the emphasis on stamina and strength, Sephiroth's whole system is just… hard. Every part of him is hardened to endure who knows what, and it gives his meridian system very little give. 

So that's what his form needs to focus on, increasing his meridian system's pliancy.  

All the while wondering if all SOLDIERs were working with these kinds of toughened meridians, Sephiroth pulses his energy and begins to move. Qing Jing Peak sword forms work well enough for him, it turns out - as spiritual cultivators, they also have to maintain certain spiritual flexibility, after all. He needs to adjust the forms to the sword he has, but that's not too difficult. A lot of spiritual swordsmen use sword glares to extend the shape and size of their cutting edge, so the forms already have some wiggle room.

Soon Sephiroth has a set of moves that work the best, making his pulses of energy work better and better, until his whole meridian system buzzes, active and alive. He can even feel the beginnings of activity in his frankly neglected dantians, as energy wooshes through him in waves. It feels… pretty great.

What he doesn't know is that on the outside it looks rather like Sephiroth just activated a Limit Break - by will alone.

-

Someone making waves, hehe

[blankwashed]

Rules R Rules

(description: naoya, your husband and also clan leader found out that you were teasing some of his army personnel. you weren't exactly all that innocent, being his wife meaning you weren't able to leave the clan quarters much. you had your eyes on toji fushiguro, his sergeant. you took this chance to live your dreams, to have sex with mr. fushigruo.)

part 2 here

“n-naoya darling, please, we can talk about this. don’t jump to conclusions when you haven’t heard my side of the story, please!” you begged while you were practically on the floor, inching yourself away from naoya, your husband.

naoya rolled his eyes, whip in hand. the whip was slender, black and thin.

“oh really?” he growled, with a lower tone of voice. “you really expect me to believe i wouldn’t do anything when my when my wife of the head of the zenin clan, flirts with my generals and soldiers?!”

“i didn’t do anything, promise! i was just worried that they needed some sort of entertainment, i know it’s dreadful to work as a soldier…promise, it’s an innocent mistake that i meant no harm,” you defended yourself, despite knowing it would never work on naoya.

a brilliant an interesting idea popped in your head. “naoya, my master...i’ll make it up to you. right now, even. j-just call in your sergeant. trust me dear,”

“if im not pleased by whatever you’re going to do, im sure you know what’s happening,” naoya snapped, glided the whip on your ass and pressed on his intercom, calling in said sergeant.

after a few seconds, heavy boots were walking in his office.

“good afternoon sir! how may i be of assistance for you?” it was sergeant fushiguro. the sergeant fushigruo.

your heart skipped a beat when you eyed him.

handsome, muscular, broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, muscles ripping through his army top. a scar beside his lips which made you bite your lips thinking of all the dirty things you could do to him, or that he could do to you.

“trust me darling, i’ll make this worthwhile for you..” you said to naoya as you sashayed towards sergeant fushiguro.

raising an eyebrow, naoya clicked his tongue, already knowing what kind of performance you wanted to do. a teasing one, one that will make him jealous. on purpose? you’re not that gullible to make such a mistake.

“i know what you’re trying to do, peasant. you’ve been eying my sarge for quite some time. d’you think i won’t notice those quick and naughty glances you give him?” naoya revealed to you.

“i’ll join in with the parade, im sure you can take two cocks at once am i right? such a good slut for me, aren’t ya slut?” naoya walks towards the both of you and grabs your hair tightly, causing you to moan.

“you’re lucky i like sergeant fushiguro here, or else i would’ve have both your heads tomorrow,” he continues proceeding to sit comfortably on a chair, prepared for whatever performance you were going to give.

horny as hell, you nodded your head.

“let’s just ease mr. toji here into it, okay daddy?” you said while tugging on the sergeants belt, removing it swiftly with your hands.

“w-what’s going on?” toji was alarmed at your pair of hands reaching for his army pants. you gave him a sly wink, ensuring to him that everything was fine and that he will not be fired tomorrow.

“what can i say sarge? she’s a horny little minx,” naoya said as he takes you up and starts massaging your breasts through your shirt. you did not expect naoya to react this way, a way where it would make things easier for you.

playing with your nipples, he licked and suckled on your earlobe. “let’s see who you take in better, huh? me, leader of the zenin clan or toji, sergeant of my army,” he whispered into your ear.

naoya grips on your thighs tightly, spreading them wide open. your wet slick already drippin' down your legs. it was that easy to turn you on, especially with two guys ready to take you.

"d'you better behave, little slut," he slaps your already aching cunt, sending waves to your thighs. "there's someone new here, be on your very best okay? don't ruin daddy's reputation," he said with gritted teeth.

"sergeant toji..don't be shy. have a taste of her, she's not going to bite," he mischievously said. he allows toji's fingers to play with your nipples that have hardened. twisting, turning and lapping on them. you whimper as you give your body to be used, touched by two men.

naoya brings you closer to sarge's leaking cock while he finds his way to your plump breasts. "put on a good show for sarge here. if you please me well then i might let him fuck you," your husband reminded you.

he knows how much power he has over you and is clearly swimming and drowning himself in it. without a thought, your hands wrapped around his surprisingly thick and long cock.

naoya winched , not really understanding the feeling of seeing his wife holding on to another man's dick but he let that slide. as you started to take toji in, he grabbed the back of your hair pushing you deeper. naoya was impressed, impressed at how much more could take in with that small mouth of yours. what could you say? you were trained by the best (naoya).

you knew that you were blessed, having a husband that would definitely be able to hit the spot that made you see stars all the time.

toji was hesitant still, unsure of whether he would be punished if he were to continue to touch you. you notice how uncertain his shaky hands were. snickering, you wiped your mouth clean from your saliva. naoya noticed your actions.

taking a deep breath in, toji stepped closer to you, no longer worried about what his leader might say about him. daringly, he lifted you up by your thighs and placed you on a nearby table. without asking for permission, his dry lips were on your wet pussy, slurping. you were shocked by the sudden intrusion, reaching out to grab anything.

toji placed two of his thick index and middle finger inside your pussy. it was easy, since you were terribly wet. because of his finger's long length, he was able to reach into your g-spot immediately, making you see stars.

gripping onto his muscular shoulders, you couldn't help but to yelp and moan in pleasure, "ah f-fuck, t-toji....you're so fucking bi-". his ego was boosted and he was ramming into your tight pussy at an intense speed ; faster than naoya.

scoffing, the clan's leader didn't take this lightly. who does toji think he is? fucking his wife better than him?

he grabbed you by the arm, simultaneously removing toji's hard cock from you. you mewled due to the emptiness you felt.

"aren't you enjoying his cock? this better teach you who's in charge over here," naoya slammed himself into your abused hole.

tears came pouring down your face from the pain, it wasn't pleasurable anymore. did naoya care? no.

"my. fucking. hole."

toji noticed your discomfort and wanted to caress your limp hands and legs.

"s-sir, she's in pain...she's bleeding sir i think you should sto-" toji's pleas for naoya to stop was only greeted by a menacing glare.

"who's your leader here, general?" naoya cut him off, not liking how he wanted to come in between the sadistic pleasure he was getting while torturing you.

"y-you sir, i'm sorry.."

toji was asked to leave the room, with blue balls, and a worrisome thought about how you were doing.

part 2 here

[lulublack90]

Prompt 9 - Detective AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 9, word count 999

CW- Dead bodies

Sirius Black looked down at the mauled body. This case was taking its toll on him. This was the fourth body they’d found. Each one left after the full moon. The press had nicknamed the killer ‘The Wolf’. 

He sipped his coffee and grimaced as the flurry of forensic personnel moved around the area. 

“Shit another one?” James Potter sighed as he ducked under the crime scene tape.

“Yup,” Sirius grunted. 

“Same bite marks?”

“Yup,”

“Any leads?”

“Nope,” Sirius drained his coffee cup and dug his keys out of his leather jacket. “I’m going back to the station. Get them to send me anything they find.” He waved at the forensic guys and left. 

It took them days to sort through the evidence. But those little geniuses managed to use the teeth marks from all the previous cases and find whose mouth they belonged to. 

Sirius looked down at the photograph of the mild-looking man. 

Remus Lupin had been a teacher but disappeared a few years ago. He was pretty average-looking, apart from the myriad of scars that sliced across his face. But Sirius just couldn’t get rid of the feeling that this was the wrong guy.

Another month and another body. Sirius was sick of this case. He had multiple people out looking for Lupin, but so far, nothing. Then, after an anonymous tip, Sirius tracked him down. 

He approached the run-down shack cautiously. He had backup waiting in case he needed it. 

He pushed open the door and shone his torch into the building. He checked the downstairs, but the rooms were clear.

He crept up the staircase and peered around the first door.

Remus was curled up under a ratty old blanket on the filthiest mattress Sirius had ever seen. 

“Remus Lupin?” He said clearly. The man’s head shot up. His eyes were full of panic. It was definitely him. “Remus Lupin, you’re under arrest.” Sirius began reciting the legal words to take the man into custody. He pulled out his handcuffs and was relieved when Lupin didn’t put up a fight. Sirius spoke into his radio, letting his team know he’d got him.

He had to help him to his feet as he was very malnourished. “I’ll ensure you get a hot meal once they finish processing you.” He didn’t know why he’d said it, but he did. 

He bundled Lupin into the back of the police car but couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just arrested the wrong person. 

Remus sat across from him in the interview room, cradling a cup of tea. He’d answered every question Sirius and James had asked him. He had no alibi for any of the killings. 

“It’s hard to have one when you live in an abandoned shack.” Remus had joked sadly. Sirius felt a twinge in his heart.

“Why did you leave teaching?” James asked. “From what we can gather. One day, you just up and left. You completely disappeared.” Remus didn’t answer straight away like he had for all the other questions. He looked scared. More scared than when Sirius had arrested him. 

“Who’s after you?” Sirius asked, leaning forward, concern leaking into his features. Remus swallowed but didn’t break his eye contact with Sirius. 

“There was a guy. I-I-I thought he was a good guy. He promised to look after me but he—he turned out to be a really bad man. He told me he was going to ruin my life after I broke things off. He sent a bunch of his gang to my house. They did this.” He pointed to his face. “I fled. I quit my job, left my flat and ran. But it’s hard to get a job when you can’t use you’re real name or have a fixed address, so…” He trailed off, letting the detectives come to their own conclusions.

“Does this guy have a name?” Sirius asked. Remus’s eyes swam with unshed tears. 

“Fenrir Greyback.”

Greyback wasn’t hard to find. He had a rap sheet a mile long, and the kicker was the man had a full set of dentures. 

Sirius had managed to get a search warrant for Fenrir’s home and office. It took hours to go through everything, looking for anything that could tie him to the murders. Remus was still in custody, and while he was safe and warm and had three meals a day, Sirius didn’t want the man to be locked up. 

Together, he and James checked every nook and cranny. Then, right before they’d been about to give up, James found something. 

Hidden in a box beneath the carpet in an air vent was a set of dentures.

“What’s the betting they’re a match for Lupin’s dental records?” James asked, beaming at his partner.

Once they’d found that first piece of evidence, everything fell into place. CCTV footage appeared showing Greyback dragging one of the victims into the alley where she’d been found, slipping in the dentures and biting her body over and over. 

Sirius was the one who gave Remus the good news that he was free to go. He’d had to catch the man as he crumpled with relief. 

“Where will you go?” Sirius asked. He knew his gut had been right all along. He’d only needed to find the evidence to back it up. But he was worried about the skinny man he’d formed a relationship with. Remus shrugged. 

“I can use my name again. So I can apply for teaching jobs.”

“That’s not what I asked Remus.” Sirius folded his arms. Remus shrugged again. 

“I don’t have an answer for you.” Sirius rolled his eyes and shook his head. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Remus. 

“12 Grimmauld Place. Pick whichever room you want apart from the one at the end that one’s mine.” Remus grabbed Sirius and hugged him. 

“Thank you for everything.” He whispered into his ear before he walked out into the bright sunshine and freedom.  

[thegildedbee]

Intimidate: May 9 Prompt from @calaisreno

John Watson’s unfailing refusal to be intimidated by himself has always been a source of irritation to Mycroft.

He had revisited the issue at suitable intervals over the course of their acquaintance, seeking to satisfy his desire to arrive at a definitive answer to this conundrum, the better to remediate this deficiency in Watson. 

(That he has yet to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion about the phenomenon is one of the few failures that he allows himself to admit – within the confines of his own head, of course. It is a ridiculous state of affairs. After all, he has a much-loved panoply of tactics at his disposal for intimidating entire countries. Which he uses. Frequently. Successfully.)

(At one point he had toyed with the idea of writing up Person X’s behavior on this score to use as a “hypothetical” example in a training exercise for the department’s analysts to see if they could detect any meaningful clues he had inexplicably overlooked. He had quickly decided, however, that it would be prudent to set this idea aside, as the acquaintance of his department’s personnel with Sherlock’s sphere could unmask the pretense of a fictional model, without any compensatory insights having been generated.)

Given current circumstances, it is time to tick off this item on his list of outstanding actions. He gathers himself mentally, and begins a review of his previously generated list of candidate explanations. 

Initially, he had believed that Watson’s apparent imperviousness to his exercises of power was stupidity, advertised as bravery. After all, a cognitively-endowed individual encountering Mycroft in the key of intimidation would make a sound assessment of possible consequences and respond appropriately, as in “a word to the wise is sufficient.” For those with a deficit in intelligence, a simple recalibration in leaving less to subtext in conveying his meanings typically sufficed. And yet, not so with Watson. Strikethrough that premise.

Early on he had posited that the problem was aggression due to his military training – and yet Watson’s service file indicated he had no trouble following orders. Strikethrough that premise.

A later supposition was that Watson’s behavior is due to his being of small stature – the compensatory demeanor of a man to appear larger, as in a cat with an arched back and its hair standing up, or when a puffer fish expands like a balloon. And yet there are no other indications that Watson finds his physical limits of concern to support this supposition. Strikethrough that premise.

He had also considered that Watson’s attitude was the consequence of being a man with nothing to lose. While this fact might have powered his non-responsiveness to displays of power at one time, he had not appeared to be in such a state for quite some time -- and yet his obstinacy continued. Strikethrough that premise.

One explanation of which he is rather fond is that the man has a perverse enjoyment of being contrary for the sake of being contrary. And yet, sadly, this premise must also be committed to the strikethrough rubbish bin, as this attitude is not on display in other situations, as it would be if it was a personality characteristic.

A recurring conjecture has been that the biographical detail of Watson being a medical professional is relevant – that he has a caretaker complex. This rationale, he believes, has some merit. But it seems insubstantial as a complete explanation for why Watson appears to be uncowed while being on the receiving end of intimidation by one such as himself (not that there is another one such as himself known to him. But it is always a possibility; a vanishingly slight one, but a possibility nonetheless).

It is always at this point in the analysis that he comes up against a factor that seems inescapably relevant, but that he finds he is resistant to giving way to: that Watson’s imperviousness to intimidation is causally related to his association with his brother, rather than to circumstances that are solely Watson's own.

It is as if Watson’s insubordination is in the service of establishing a demilitarized zone around Sherlock, with Watson patrolling its perimeter, to repel and/or neutralize anything that he considers to be a threat. Well, was in the service of.

But why such a dedicated defense of his brother, such that Mycroft's intent to intimidate falls flat? This assertive stance had appeared within a very short period of time – Watson had become very loyal, very quickly. Scarcely a day after being informed of Sherlock’s existence he had killed a man – with an illegal weapon – because he believed his life was threatened, even while unable to hear what was happening, and the only evidence being that of viewing the unfolding of a pantomime.

Mycroft purses his lips in impatience and blinks his eyes to refocus them. No more time can be expended on the Watson question today – there are many urgent matters of international importance needing to be put right. And now that Sherlock has been removed from Watson’s life, Mycroft's listed item re analyzing Watson’s motivations can indeed be ticked off, due to that reality. 

Yes, Mycroft points out to himself, even Watson, needs must, be intimidated by death, and come to display submission to its dictates. It is unlikely that he will need to experience yet again Watson’s non-cooperative, headstrong, insolent manner (at least not any time soon). Indeed, with Sherlock "dead," there is no need to ponder the question further.  ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper rest of the @s in the tags, which will work for communication purposes, I hope? just say the word if you want to be untagged or tagged xoxoxo

[ronearoundblindly]

The Dignity of His Choice (abridged ending)

Speedy version of Reflections Part II & III (see previous or series) Steve Rogers x wife!Reader

Alright, this may not be conventional, but I'm crippled by guilt over this story. There are so many elements that hit brutally close to home based on a personal experience this past year (arguably this past decade but whatevs), and so I have sifted through 28 A4-sized pages, front-to back, and 17 smaller pages, front-to back (save one sheet), as well as a typed-up 7k, in hopes of grasping this magical redemption arc that exists in my mind and falls flat everywhere else. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of loving this story so much that nothing is good enough, and I'm sick of hoping to offer a conclusion that never f***ing comes. Welp, today you can know the conclusion--or the gist of it at least--because that is my Christmas gift to myself. I'm washing myself of the guilt. -> What follows is an extremely unedited and maybe slightly poetic summary of the finale. God, I hope you enjoy it, but really, I just want to feel like I *can* finish something. Sorry if that's dramatic; that's just...the situation of 2023.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, and I hope this serves up some sort of holiday cheer! (No real warnings because smut is reserved for the full-length version. This tale, as always, is 18+ due to very heavy themes.)

The thing is Steve doesn't regret his choice. How can he regret anything that ensured you were here, alive and happy, by his side? That's not an achievement he'll ever be ashamed of; there's no guarantee in the multiverse that he could have done better.

You spoke of being lucky. You felt guilt that of all the servicemen and women to lose their lives, yours came home in the end.

Steve doesn't see it that way. Yes, you and he are very, very lucky, but overall, Steve won.

In every war, there are battles. In battles, there are fights. In fights, there are shots taken, punches thrown. You don't need to land every punch to win a war. There are always losses.

Steve Rogers tends to win because he understands this.

He knows the value of strategy. He knows the value of hope. He especially knows the value of planning for the worst.

And so he's surprised--as he often is with you--that he hasn't lost more.

You accept the loss as well as the win. You endure more gracefully than he ever imagined possible during those long months alone and away.

His sacrifice may have played a factor in your safety, but in the end, it just came down to you. You fought for yourself. You battled for your beliefs. You warred for your convictions.

Steve can understand that. He admires it.

He plans to make this dreadful mess up to you, he hopes for the time to do so, but before he can strategize how, your bubble of isolation is burst by a knock at the door.

"Open up, Rogers. Please," Sam Wilson requests anxiously over F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s speaker.

He could simply mean you since you are a Rogers and neither of you have heard the okay that the world knows Steve's alive. Although, Steve still doesn't have a phone again, and you haven't exactly been checking yours during recent...activities... (Not to put too fine a point on it, but Bucky's little gifts aren't going to miraculously last eight days and nights.)

Steve stays in the corner of the kitchen, drying his hands from the dishes you two were washing together, while you answer the door.

It swings open in the direction that still hides Steve.

"Hey--" Steve hears the soft pause in Wilson's voice "--I think...I may be out of line here, but Stark ordered personnel to vacate the compound."

You cross your arms over your chest, nervous. "Do we need to leave? I--As in, you and I? Are we included in that?"

"No," Sam says flatly. "It's just...suspicious--look, can I come in?"

"Sam, wait!" You push to make a wall in the doorway, meaning Steve can no longer see you or what's happening while a silence, an extremely pregnant pause, stretches.

Afterward, there's a whisper.

"Is he here?"

Your reply is only a stutter of unfinished words, but that's enough. Sam's stepped past and halted a few feet inside before his scanning gaze lands on Steve.

Steve's not sure what he expects his friend to do. He's misjudging reactions left and right these days, so he can't presume that--

"Gym?" Sam ticks his arm, thumb pointing back out to the hall. "I'm going for a run."

He has to convince you and Steve that the whole place really has been cleared before Steve changes clothes.

The string-light and garland-lined corridors remind Steve that his apartment remains devoid of any festive touches. You two have been too distracted to realize it's the day before Christmas Eve, so the 'evacuation' will likely draw no attention from the average employee.

Stark is just adamant they have the holiday for family. That's all. The only people who live there are Avengers.

The smell of the rubber floor when they walk onto the track spikes nostalgia in the back of Steve's brain, and in his utter joy to be there again, he starts sprinting like old times.

His blood pumps and his lungs stretch, but it's too hard, too fast. His blood thunders in his ears and makes his head swim. His lungs burn fiercely and seize. He collapses, gasping through his weakest asthma attack yet, but it still happens.

Things are almost, almost the same. Things are still different.

Without taking the opportunity to gloat (too much), Sam uses his powers, skills he's had all along, to divine Steve's real fear:

Steve changed things, and he may have changed things so much that it's all ruined. He can't go back to being Cap because he showed his colors: he chose you over everything else. What if you can't go back to being his wife because of that same choice?

Sam helps Steve off the floor.

"You walked the same circle for a long time, buddy. Instead of getting off the track entirely, try one lane over. Baby steps."

Steve snorts. "Ya know, she said something similar."

"Yeah, well, some of us filled in the stoic charm while you were gone."

"Comes naturally to you, doesn't it?"

Wilson turns to walk backwards, flashing pearly whites. "The outfit is growing on me, and I think the press were just about to stop calling me Black Cap." He playfully punches Steve's shoulder. "We'll see how far this sets me back, huh?"

After realizing he has to take it easy, Steve enjoys a long, mostly quiet run beside his friend, never once passing him. Though Steve asks about returning tomorrow, Sam has to decline. Christmas Eve is for Sarah and her boys, and Sam's sister will raise hell if crossed.

Just before leaving the gym, Sam hugs Steve, the length and intensity of the embrace telling Steve all he needs to know. Sam--like everyone else who knows so far--is happier than he is hurt, and that stifles Steve in a torrent of humility.

He doesn't deserve the strength of this family built around him, but he is grateful.

Steve also doesn't expect to find Natasha and Bucky in his apartment when he returns. He was hoping to put up some decorations with you, bring a touch of joyous spirit to that place you've been emotionally entombed for months, but he outright frowns when seeing the box they brought.

Between you and Nat sits the bin of intel the Keepers gathered on you and left behind at a raided facility. You're pouring over the dirty details of horrible intrusion to your private life, both you and Steve's, and he can't help but watch your face closely.

You do look horrified. You look furious for minutes on end, file after file, until you finally ask, "who's had stuff like this on you guys?"

That's the thing. That's the part eating away at Steve's shame. It's why he can't be beyond a superficial level of sorry for what he's done.

"The Red Room," Nat replies softly.

Buck shrugs. "Hydra...among others."

Steve knows what that intel could have been a precursor to; they could manipulate more than just him. You could have been used, you could have been changed, and it would have been his fault. Extremes are most of his life, so Steve goes to extreme measures to keep his life separate from all of that.

Blurring those lines--bringing you closer to the fray of this scary and violent world feels irresponsible.

You continue to ask candid questions about what Nat and Bucky were doing this whole time. The response is grueling, a complex web of taking out targets without signaling an ulterior motive, every interaction carefully executed to seem natural, all the while knowing that Steve waited to come home and you waited for...well, the truth.

The way Natasha describes it makes Steve sick to his stomach.

He never wanted this, but he has to live with the consequences.

You thumb over a few stalking photographs in your hand and simply say, "that was quite a commitment."

Something triggers in Steve, and suddenly, his next move is crystal clear.

"I'll--I'll be right back," he blurts.

All three of you startle in confusion, sat around the coffee table like it's the most normal thing in the world to share so much. You've had top clearance for twenty-four hours. You're already a pro, and that makes Steve's idea that much more perfect.

He races through the building, glad he doesn't have to hide, and pounds on Tony's door.

As soon as Tony opens up though, Morgan rushes past his legs and lets out a blood-curdling cry that ends in a sobbing, "you're alive."

The little girl flings herself into Steve's arms, refusing to let go the entire time he asks Stark--all the Starks--for a favor.

You wake up the next morning to find a note from Steve and a dress of yours hung by the tree you put up after a long meal with Nat and Bucky.

Important errand, the note reads. Expect Tony to come by at 11. Wear this, please. I love you.

It's the dress you chose for your first date with Steve, the date that kinda never happened because the compound was invaded and you had to kill a guy. Odd memory to resurrect, but you do adore that dress.

You're not surprised when Tony arrives in one of his signature suits, nor when he makes a show of walking you through the halls on his arm. He has the uncanny ability to chat about nothing using the maximum number of words. He's delightful that way.

Your first real clue is Morgan, standing outside some double doors to one of the flex rooms, like the ones changed for training different abilities, like the ones used for therapy circles. In fact, it's the same room, the exact same double doors as years ago.

The girl looks fit to burst, clearly told to keep her cheers to a minimum as she clutches a wicker Easter basket in her hands, crouching as if ready to spring into action.

Pepper stands close by. Nat and Bucky whisper conspiratorially a ways down the hall.

Then you notice.

Tony has on a black suit with red pin-stripes, Pepper a blue dress with a white belt, Natasha a red dress with a white belt, and Bucky a navy suit with a black-shirt underneath.

"We did our best on short notice," Tony rambles off, guiding you to a stop in front of the party.

"This is for you," Morgan squeaks, ripping a colorful bundle of pipe cleaners out of the basket. There are buttons woven to the tops of each 'stem.'

Pepper quickly adds, "wild flowers were...a bit scarce, as you can imagine."

You brave a single question.

"What's going on?"

Everyone just beams at you, falling into a pattern of pairs behind Morgan before Tony winks and tells you to follow his lead.

The doors open, and there, at the end of the aisle, stands Steve--your Steve--in his old Captain America outfit minus the cowl. His hair is still long and darker, but his beard is properly trimmed.

All you can think is how you'll tease him about that.

You pinch at the leather sleeve in curiosity, and Steve leans over.

"This is the last thing I'll ever do in it," he says before kissing your cheek. "Promise."

"Says the guy who's stolen it twice," Tony mutters from his place on the other side of Bucky.

"He has a point," Nat chimes in.

The poor priest clears his throat and bellows, "dearly beloved..."

He keeps his promise.

At a press conference just before New Year's, Steve is announced as one of those rescued from "an enemy base" in an undisclosed location.

The crowd of reporters erupts in a chaos of inquisition, but all Steve will give them, standing there in a simple sweater and slacks, is his official resignation of the title Cap.

"What do we call you then?" someone shouts from the back.

"Just Steve. I am Steve Rogers, that's all." He looks to his left for the comfort of your face. "And this--" he grabs your hand "--is Mrs. Rogers, my soulmate."

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng @1950schick @jamneuromain @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts

A/N: and yes, the full-version will be written eventually.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[sullustangin]

Spoiler Free SWTOR 7.5 comments

As it says on the tin.

Honestly, I am really liking the consistent content that Broadsword is putting out. Big patches are 4-6 months apart, little ones are pretty regular. Each patch -- whether it's a big 7.x or it's a 7.5.x -- has something that tries to address a player request/complaint. Since Broadsword took over, the amount of content might be more modest in terms of scale, but it seems like more care has been applied to it. Based upon the player survey and other quality of life improvements -- and even some hasty u-turns--, they are taking player feedback into account. I feel better about the game in Broadsword's hands than I did with Bioware.

Technically, I did not experience major problems with the patch. As reported in the patch notes, there is one cinematic where a key character's mouth does not move. That doesn't break the game, though you may want to wait to record the scene if you're into that. There's another point where you have to hit the right spot on the floor for your jetpack to disappear so you can pass through the next door, but that's an easy fix. Gearwise, I'm seeing reports of being at least in 332 greens, but as usual, player skill may vary.

Patch 7.5 starts the conclusion of the two storylines that have taken the mainstage of 7.0: the Holocron of Nul storyline and the Heta Kol storyline, which started back in 6.2 (pandemic patch). I feel like some of the "huh?" in the plot was baked in from where Bioware started it, so Broadsword is trying its best to finish the story they were given. Is it a busfire? Yes. Is it their fault? No, but they have to finish it.That said, this patch actually makes the player make choices, and you AGONIZE over them. It's not just personnel choices but also diplomatic ones. I haven't felt that way in a considerable amount of time. Yes, you do make choices in 7.0, but it's one person living or dying, be a jerk or don't be a jerk. Lower stakes. The stakes are higher here in 7.5 -- or at least it feels that way. That's an important part of game writing: even if the choice does not matter, there needs to be the illusion that it does -- a certain level of immersion. You do have cascading consequences of choices as well. I'm looking forward to playing this patch on my LS toon to do different choices, more so than I did previously. "Let's not be a jerk this time" is less than compelling than "Can I do it differently, this time?"

Overall, there is progress in the storyline -- this doesn't feel like a "busy work" patch or "here's a new daily area to keep you occupied". (To be clear, I loved the Port Nowhere and Ord Mantell content in 7.4 -- it was a giant love letter to smugglers -- but at the same time, it was a bit of filler, to be honest). The quests you need to do are necessary to gain the trust of a naturally fearful faction of sentients (no spoilers) -- it makes sense they aren't your besties for life right off the jump. You will yell at the screen at the end of the whole thing, because it does make sense and yet it's the worst option for your character, personally, and it's out of your hands. (And it is not out of character for the person who makes that decision...)

No new date night content -- maybe in 7.5.1. There is some romance content for those of us that romanced Lana and Theron.

If you are big into Mandos and have been impatiently waiting for Lane to give you a buzz, this is your time and your hour. If you enjoy training hunter pets in other games, your time has arrived.

There is also a new Spring Festival event on Dantooine. In truth, I find it sort of derivative of the Tillers' reputation you could earn in World of Warcraft during Mists of Pandaria. It isn't exactly the same (we don't have a cooking profession), but the general ideas apply, right down to the dailies involving having a beer and going fishing, as well as scouring the world for seeds. There's also animal rescue built in here as well, so it's a bit of everything for any hero who wants to retire or at least slow down.

But of course, something sinister is on the farm, and so I anticipate Scooby Doo Mystery Hour shall continue as the event carries on.

~~

Given that Broadsword "maintains" games such as Dark Age of Camelot, there has been the fear that they'll move SWTOR into retirement, but I don't think that will happen, as it's still a live intellectual property (Star Wars), they're making gobs of money off it due to Cartel Market, and there's still a player base. (And let's be real, Favereau and Filoni play it, and they do matter to Disney and EA.) I don't know when 8.0 will come out, so we may have another round of storylines in 7.0 -- sort of like how we had an extended 5.0 (Iokath and Traitor Arc) after Bioware was stripped down in 2017. That said, Onslaught was quite good after the KotXX shenanigans and dev changes had settled. I still hold the view that Bioware is a sinking ship, and EA moved the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg to Broadsword for safekeeping. I think we might get an 8.0 in 2025 or 2026, but how that will look or work -- no idea.

[taviamoth]

[PRCS suspends coordination on medical missions in Gaza for 48 hours

(Al-Bireh - Gaza: 26/2/2024): The Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS) suspended all humanitarian coordination procedures on medical missions in the Gaza Strip for the next 48 hours, due to the failure to ensure the safety and security of the Society's Emergency Medical Services teams, the wounded and the sick in PRCS hospitals, centers and ambulances as a result of the lack of commitment and respect of the Israeli occupation forces to the procedures and coordination mechanisms agreed upon with the United Nations' organizations.

PRCS will assess this situation during the next two days to reach a conclusive result that enables it to protect its crews and their vehicles and to ensure that it will not be placed at risk of death or injury, through the intervention of active states in the international community to ensure this protection.

Yesterday evening, PRCS evacuated a number of patients from its Al-Amal Hospital in Khan Younis to Rafah hospitals due to their urgent need for advanced surgical medical intervention, in coordination with the United Nations Office for Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), which obtained approval from the Israeli occupation forces for this evacuation.

Despite the fact that the occupation forces knew the route of the convoy and the names and identity numbers of the staff accompanying the patients, the Israeli occupation forces intercepted the convoy for more than 7 hours and mistreated its members, especially the accompanying PRCS medical staff, and arrested three medics, releasing one of them after many hours.

This incident is not the first incident during which the Israeli occupation forces failed to respect the coordination conducted by the United Nations organizations with them, as they previously targeted PRCS ambulances on their way to evacuate injured people from various areas in the Gaza Strip, prevented and obstructed relief aid convoys from reaching specific areas in the Gaza Strip, especially in Gaza and its north, and it continues to detain a number of PRCS staff This unlawful behaviour adds to the list of flagrant violations of international humanitarian law committed by the Israeli occupation forces against medical personnel, the protected Red Crescent emblem, and the wounded and the sick in time of war.

Accordingly, the PRCS demands that the Israeli occupation forces release all the medical staff they have arrested, including the medical and administrative staff working in the field to perform their humanitarian tasks. The occupation forces must also respect the protected Red Crescent emblem in accordance with the provisions of international law, respect and protect the legal personality of the Society and facilitate its humanitarian mission, which is violated by the Israeli occupation forces, and protect the wounded and the sick who have sought refuge in its legally protected facilities as Protected Persons.

The PRCS renews its calls to the international community to compel the Israeli occupation forces to respect and protect medical personnel and facilities and to provide a safe humanitarian space that is essential for the survival of Palestinians in Gaza.]