#imagine being someone with a functional tagging system

[is-the-fire-real]

When I was last on tumblr, it was ten years ago and one of the biggest faux pas you could commit was incorrect tagging.

It was Literally Colonialism to use a tag that was For Certain Oppressed Groups. The actually-autistic tag was created because allistics "took over" the autism tag, and this/other tags became heavily policed by users to make sure they remained a "safe space".

I remember seeing countless posts about how autistics would never be safe if we didn't have a bubble to protect us from interacting with allistics. The same went for tags about transliness and queerness. The going approach used militarized and hyperbolic language to characterize and other folks who weren't in the community: autistics (the group I had the most direct experience with) were attacked by allistic invaders who violated and conquered autistic tagging systems.

The "Literally Colonialism" isn't a joke. I saw plenty of suggestions that to even use a tag which was perceived as being "not yours" was colonization of ideas and thoughts. To be allistic, have an opinion on autism, and tag it as "autism" was held up as being exactly the same as the behavior of empires and nation-states.

Obviously, I don't entirely agree, and don't think this particular hyperbolization is helpful for advocacy or for dialogue. But I do find it interesting how, in the decade since I was last here, it seems to (mostly) still be true that you should only use certain tags if you have a particular identity...

... unless you're not Jewish, in which case feel free to use any and all Judaism-related tags and break the system's meager functionality for Jewish people.

As someone who is using Tumblr to connect to online Judaism, it's daunting to see how many posts under "judaism" are by non-Jews screeching about Israel. Seeing non-Jews openly talk about they tag their posts with gore, rape denial, Holocaust denial, October 7 denial, and other deliberately-triggering material with Jewish-themed tags specifically to make Jewish users of Tumblr feel unsafe. Reading them telling each other about how this is advocacy, this will absolutely win the war for Gazans, and how anybody who blocks them (in order to make sure the tags can actually work as intended) is a genocidal coward. Using that self-same militaristic language to describe their activities, only instead of criticizing, they're bragging.

It's, uh, kind of fucked up.

Imagine going to the actually-autistic tag and finding nothing but a wall of allistics claiming that they've victoriously conquered the tag from those inhuman monsters pretending to have problems when other Real People are the ones who are suffering. I think we would all intuitively understand that this would be Wrong. Even if there was some supposed outward justification for being mad at certain autistics, we would understand that holding all autistics everywhere responsible for it is wrong. That breaking a community's ability to talk to each other is wrong. That trying to trigger people and then telling them to commit suicide is wrong.

And we'd also understand, or come to, that the very action of going "This community I'm not part of doesn't deserve to have this tag, I'mma take it back, or at least ruin it so no one else can have it" is an expression of privilege. It is wrong, and it is immature, and it is cowardice.

These smug, self-involved, active attempts at causing harm make no sense at all if seen as advocacy; they help no one, advance no cause, stop no Zionists (whatever that means) from expressing themselves online.

They only make sense when seen as Jew-hate.

[bee-sidebranch]

Reluctant subservience

Some story exposition fot Three Pearls Seven Notches below

i wanna try and actually talk about my oc's properly because as of now it's pretty much just been: "this is Daniel my pookie i love him very much look at him"

Ok so the Iterator in the middle is TPSN, he is a pretty normal guy by my standards, gets along with his peers, does his work. He can be a bit of a pushover and an overthinker, he tends to logic away his feelings and avoid them that way.

He also makes music with math! i imagine it sounds like this. (it's not a rickroll)

In TSPN's local group the Senior had the brilliant idea to repurpose the microstratas computing power, to which a lot of the Cans basic functions are being outsourced, to more efficiently iterate on the Great Problem.

What this would do is basically turn off the Iterators autonomic nervous system so if this is supposed to work without breaking a taboo someone needs to take up the role of the strata...

And big boy 'i can't say no' is relegated to doing so.

In the present of the timeline TSPN is taking care of two Iterators doing this. They've been at it for a prolonged time in a coma like state and it's taking a toll TSPN.

Being essentially a life support system for two other superstructures is a heavy workload and the additional stress of having to mediate between his functioning peers makes him lash out and short tempered.

In the future he will receive a message from Quivering Skies, who will help him with this situation.

ok writing is hard this is it for now, hope this was interesting

if you wanna see more of him his tag is roads not taken!!!!

[cloudyswritings]

Yes… I am the silksong now!!

My thoughts and headcanons on Hornet. I’ll be real I’ve kinda been ignoring her because I’m terrified of having to tag silksong headcanons, I’ve seen the fucking Reddit. Anyway, enjoy my ramblings.

So I think that a Hornet qualifies as a pale being, she was born to one and has a pale mask of one. More than that she qualifies for being in godhome(a low bar ik, looking at you vengefly king).

She isn’t really a god per-se but definitely is a higher being on par or stronger than the great knights.

She obviously considers herself a spider but overall she inherited very little from Herrah.

Id say she only really got the fangs and dietary needs

Shes absolutely an obligate carnivore, so don’t expect her to be eating plant matter of any type. She does the whole inject her meal with venom to dissolve it and slurp it up deal

this is mostly because even though she’s got the full Wyrms arsenal of teeth and a Wyrms digestive tract her mouth is very small and she only has pedipalps and fangs externally. This means it’s very hard for her to eat any solid food/get it down to where her throat teeth can break it down

So interestingly her body color in combination with the vessels may actually tell us more about the pale kings- see both she and the vessels have black chitin suggesting it may be inherited from the king.

She also has both her fathers number of eyes and limbs, something that infuriates her deeply.

I don’t feel that the hornet we see in canon is her final molt, mostly because it seems like the sealing of THK functionally stopped time in Hallownest. I imagine once they’re free and the Radiance is dead she’ll probably undergo one last molt.

I think her missing limbs(she has 4 that we know of meaning she’d have 4 more as a spider) will actually end up growing into wings with said molt.

She also inherited her aptitude for mechanical stuff from the king. It seems like she makes all of her own stuff. Plus the crafting system and buzz saws in silksong support this.

She likes buzzsaws

I imagine if we could get a better look at the light she casts it’d be a lot like her fathers. She’d be a pale red light that falls far and deep but bears only a subtle influence on the world, like the strumming of gossamer threads.

Shes set down threads all over Hallownest, allowing her to keep track of a ton of things at once by feeling vibrations

She does have spineretes but uses soul to supplement and extend the amount of thread she can make.

She actually really likes the white lady, mostly because of good childhood memories from visiting the palace. She was the cool mom for a while. She’s more conflicted in regards to her towards the events of the game though.

Her favorite food is probably primal aspids, but she’s got a huge soft spot for honey because of her time in the hive. She also likes soups because they’re easier for her to eat(esp the ones Ghost makes)

She has very good eyesight from Herrah, but also has face blindness that she inherited from the king. She makes do, but mostly relies on clothing, scent, and body language to identify people.

As a grub she was the only one of her brood to survive, she was part of a large brood and likely spent her earliest days in a broodsack(that’s just how spiders do shit) but ate all of her potential siblings before hatching-she doesn’t know it but this is a wyrm instinct and her father did exactly the same thing.

She’d absolutely hate that if she found out.

She suspects but isn’t sure about why she’s territorial. Unsurprisingly it’s once again a wyrm thing

Her threads are far stronger and more durable than even those produced by the best weavers, in fact some of her silk may have been used for THKs seals- she probably doesn’t remember this cause she was too young.

Is mad she inherited the kings height. Honestly she’s mad about everything she inherited from him.

She doesn’t know it but she’s fairly resistant to void, especially for someone half mortal.

Sleeps in a giant mess of quilts, pilows, and silk. It’s held slightly off the ground. This is sorta a halfway point between a Wyrms nest and the silk hammocks of the weavers.

Shes a very fidgety and light sleeper, and realistically needs far less sleep than most beings.

Her venom is ridiculously potent, like to the point of being almost unanimously fatal to mortals and weaker higher beings. It would honestly still do a lot of damage to gods too. It’s a symptom of hybrid vigor, wherein the hybrid offspring of two species tends to be stronger, larger, and overall more genetically resilient than either parent.

Hybrids also tend to be sterile.

Hornet probably couldn’t have children if she wasn’t a higher being, even then I’m not really sure she could tbh.

Given enough time and soul she could pull a metamorphosis like her father did, though she doesn’t know how.

What she’d emerge as is unclear, but she’d likely either become a spider goddess in truth. Or even more likely she’d fully become a wyrm and abandon the mortal parts Herrah gave her.

For obvious reasons she won’t do this.

Her favorite color is a toss up between red and purple.

She weaves clothing for her siblings semi-regularly. Kinda gets frustrated at how often Ghost ruins their thought. They’re rough on clothing ig.

She didn’t inherit her fathers ability to burrow, but some of the instincts remain. She’s very frustrated at this.

She’s kinda bad at rembering names too, she gets embarrassed by this and it’s part of why she doesn’t stay anywhere long enough to get to know the bugs there.

Has a charm that was created from Herrahs regrets. It doesn’t do anything but give off the faint sense of a clawed hand on her shoulders and the faint whispers of the lullaby Herrah used to sing to her.

it’s still her single most prized possession

Her needles is a close second and was made of pale ore taken directly from the Pale Wyrms corpse. It’s the one thing her father gave her she loves.

he gave it to her as a gift for her being given a name. He likely used his foresight to figure out how large she’d be as an adult and made it in anticipation of that.

She can go an exceedingly long time without a meal. This was super helpful during the infection when uninflected prey was rare at best.

With age she is becoming more and more powerful as a higher being and will likely eventually become a goddess proper.

She has the lifespan of a Wyrm but doesn’t really know it yet and chalks her remarkable age up to the blurring of time during the infection. Despite this she’s still a child by wyrm standards and has many, many, many years left to live.

Most bugs are absolutely shocked to hear about her actual age.

Lace will be for sure, and she’ll probably live to regret threatening her.

Shes super fast, like almost impossible to track I’m combat at times, this is actually because of her use of both wind and soul magic along with the thread based spells of the weavers.

Her shell is covered with intricate and detailed carvings, this is essentially the weaver version of tattoos.

Im genuinely not too sure if her mask is actually her face like it is for the pale king or just a mask like for Herrah. I lean towards it being her face though.

The bell cult caught her while she was sleeping and that’s the only reseal they survived the encounter.

id say there’s probably a good chance of her ascending to godhood as a possible ending to silksong.

Doesnt really have a sense of humor but does find puns and dad jokes hilarious(they were the only jokes the pale king told when she was little)

Theorectically given enough prep time and motivation she could place webs all over the city of tears(or a similarly sized city) and pull all of the buildings down in one go.

She might also be able to do the whole puppeting corpses thing that happens in the beasts den.

She needs a certain amount of metal in her diet thanks to being part wyrm. It’s really hard for her to find in pieces small enough to fit into her mouth.

Some crack/non-serious headcanons

She’s absolutely a chain smoker on par with Grimm- you know why

When she says Shaw it’s because as a kid she couldn’t say saw, the king would be so damn proud.

She’d be so good at putting up Christmas lights. Like the best even.

secretly loves holidays, could pull of a mean Santa impression by just fucking hustling down peoples chimneys and stealing their cookies. She’d even have a big ass silk bag full of toys.

Maybe she does this for Hallownest once it’s built?

that’s it’s, this is how she ascends to godhood

Hornet is bug Santa.

[donnerpartyofone]

I have posted about this multiple times before but since tumblr's search won't cough any of it up, I'm just going to say it again so I can add my new thing to my thought process about trigger warnings:

Years ago a popular true crime blogger posted an ask from someone requesting that she tag for needles. I think she had posted that notorious x-ray of masochistic serial murderer Albert Fish's colon, which is admittedly disturbing, but she very politely declined on the basis that everything she posts tends to be violent and disturbing--you actually SHOULD find her blog upsetting--and users should manage their expectations around that general premise. Additionally, needles do not carry the specific traumatic weight of something like, say, racial violence or child abuse, for which a warning could be in order; needles are everyday objects that one might reasonably encounter in a store or a person's home, or practically anywhere. If you have such an aversion that it really affects your life to see a needle, you might want to pursue treatment and stop using a part of the internet that is essentially a giant random image generator.

My personal take on content/trigger warnings (are those different? If not then why do we have varying tags instead of one universal one to keep the system reliable?) is similar, that they're only important for material that could seriously upend someone's day. Is Thing X something you truly could not have expected where you encountered it? Would you need to leave work or school if you saw Thing X? Would you need to seek assistance or take a medication? Does Thing X cause significant social problems or affect your sense of safety? If not, you don't need a warning. I mean everyone can tag whatever they choose and of course some folks are happy to tag stuff just because someone might find it annoying or unpleasant, but you're not entitled to protection from strangers just to spare you casual discomfort.

One day I got this extremely angry anonymous message in all caps yelling at me for not tagging spiders. I had no idea what the person was talking about, but after a while I realized it had to be about a popular post I'd made years ago showing tarantulas in a Kids In the Hall sketch. This was especially funny to me because at the time I was posting a lot of explicit violence and sexual imagery that someone could reasonably object to, but this person felt that it was my job to help create the illusion of a spiderless world for their benefit. I know arachnaphobia is a real thing but I still think that if you suffer from it then it's your job to look after yourself and not everybody else's job to protect you from remembering that there are spiders.

This is kind of a tangent but I often think about how trypophobia is not technically a phobia because it isn't affecting anybody's ability to lead a normal daily existence. It's just a grossout thing, basically a matter of taste, but people love to try to elevate it to the level of a serious psychological vulnerability for some reason.

I'm thinking about this stuff (again) today because I just saw a post on one of the autism subreddits where someone linked to a scientific paper to answer a specific question, but they said it needed warnings for incidental use of the term "high-functioning" and advised that some people may not wish to read the paper at all so they wouldn't be triggered by it. That term is sometimes used to invalidate or deny care to people who give the outward appearance of less urgent needs, so it is indeed pretty tricky and needs work. But change is only going to come from attention; if you are concerned about the effects of that language then I think it behooves you to know how it is being used so you are able to argue about it and lobby for change. It's hard for me (a "high-functioning" person) to imagine a scenario in which I'm interested in reading about a condition I have, and then I refuse to do so because the phrase "high-functioning" is going to trigger a psychiatric episode so bad that it's better for me to just ignore information about my own health. I think an adult who is usually inclined to educate themselves should be able to handle occasionally seeing troublesome or outdated language.

Put more concisely than above, my criteria for warnings is just: when the questionable item relates to a real, reasonably common traumatic experience that would be unfair to spring on someone who could relate to it, and/or when the content would be legitimately surprising in its context. Like if you're in my corner of tumblr you should expect that you're going to see horror movie stuff, I'm not tagging anything like that unless it's miles over the line I typically draw. But on the other hand I was out at a restaurant one night and this spoiled egomaniac was practically shouting for a long time in graphic detail about episiotomies within earshot of everyone who was trying to eat. Honestly one of the staff should have told her to shut the fuck up. That's not a thing that people should be normally expected to put up with in a public dining situation, even though it regards a medical procedure that is not morally offensive.

It's probably obvious by now that I think that being uncomfortable and even offended, at least to some degree, has an important psychological and social function. It enables you to recognize and react to problems around you. Understanding what makes you uncomfortable is critical; dealing with discomfort builds character; and continuously avoiding everything you don't like keeps you infantile. It's actually not good to live in a world of only your favorite things.

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 8 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year

additionally, we're working towards a ricky x therapy plot so he's going to start expressing some symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy eventually and has a good support system but he gets worse before he gets better yk. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 3k

genre: fluff, slice of life

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: making out, more fake texts (please politely ignore that it's facebook messanger it's the only fake text app I could find that's actually functional), nina tries hoovering, nina is generally a messy bitch, kourtney is a good friend, ricky is a sappy down bad bitch

summary: you and Ricky spend the night before opening having a classic sleepover at your place. Ricky falls even harder for you. Nini follows a hunch.

song recs: when you're home - in the heights, better left unsaid - ariana grande, research me obsessively - crazy ex girlfriend soundtrack/brittany snow, home is in your eyes - greyson chance

a/n: I WAS SO EXCITED TO FINISH THIS CHAPTER I LISTENED TO THE WIZARD AND I FOR HOURS CAUSE IT WAS THE ONLY SONG THAT COULD MATCH MY TRIUMPHANT ENERGY. as always thank you to cici for beta reading next part posted at 10 good reviows prepz fuk off xxx666xxx. been reading more my immortal if you couldn't tell. I, like profesor trevolry, am too adikted 2 volxemortserum.

tags @yesv01 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @brinaslittlefreak @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

Sleepovers at your place are something that’s become a staple in Ricky’s life, and he doesn’t think he’s ever needed one more than tonight. It’s the one night the whole cast has off before opening night, so of course you’re going to spend it together. Tech week was one of the most intense things Ricky has ever experienced. It was one week straight spent at the El Rey, doing homework in between scenes, getting used to costumes, sets, lights, and props, and more importantly, getting used to all of it together. The first full run through felt surreal. If the last few rehearsals had been that exhausting and amazing and exciting, he can’t imagine how great opening night will be. 

So what better way to decompress from a week straight of late nights and re-running the same numbers and scenes and working out the kinks, than being where he is right now. Ricky sits on your bed across from you while you sort through the snacks you’d picked up. There’s a comfortable, cozy energy between you, like there usually is. This is exactly what you both need, he thinks. A relaxing, fun night together before you gear up for show time. You’re trying to contain your excitement, but he can see it simmering, growing stronger in the back of your mind. 

The door opens and your mom enters, holding the last few DVDs of shows you’ve been in. 

“Took me a little while to find them, but here’s Matilda - regular, and the stripped down version - and Fun Home.” She smiles, beaming the way she does whenever she talks about you performing. 

“Thanks mom,” you smile at how excited she and Ricky are about your shows. Ricky looks at the titles in her sharpie handwriting on the plastic cases, excitement fluttering through him at getting to see more of you performing. It might be corny to say, but you’re definitely his favorite actor.

“Which ones have you seen so far?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway, happy to have someone to brag about you with and talk about your shows. Ricky lists off all the musicals you’ve watched together over the last few days. 

“...And we just finished Tuck Everlasting.” 

“That one’s my favorite!” she gasps, beaming, and Ricky agrees. He can see why; you brought the role of Winnie Foster to life, and he can’t believe it had such a short run. She’s about to leave, when she remembers the paperwork she dropped off at city hall earlier. 

“Oh, by the way,” she starts, “I heard back from Mitch in permits and zoning, and all the paperwork was expedited. Everything you need to perform at the El Rey has been approved, and you got a green light for opening night!” You and Ricky start yelling and freaking out - exactly what she expected - and you jump off your bed to squeeze her in a tight hug. 

“Thank you!” you cheer, and Ricky echos. 

“Of course!” she smiles.

“That’s amazing!” Ricky beams, “My dad said it might not be ready in time.” 

“Well,” she continues, “I may have pulled a few strings to get it expedited…” 

She barely gets the sentence out before you’re loudly thanking her again. 

“Okay, okay,” she says, calming down your cheers and heading for the door with a smile “have fun you guys.” 

She closes the door, and you’re alone again. He takes in a breath, embracing this moment, here in your room with you. He looks at your decorations, the snowglobe on your bookshelf, the posters on the wall and polaroids taped to your mirror. The jacket you had been wearing earlier is now tossed on the back of your desk chair, and your backpack is still where you’d dropped it earlier when you got home. 

He’s overwhelmed with that big warm feeling in his chest he gets whenever he’s around you. He loves your room, loves sleepovers with you, loves… he chokes down the thought. He can feel the urge to spill his guts, to bear his soul, but he shoves it down. As easy as it would be to pull you close and kiss the breath out of your lungs and tell you everything he’s ever felt for you, he knows the timing isn’t right. He fights temptation, helping you unbag the rest of the snacks you got to distract himself from the unspoken words he’s barely holding back. You hand him the stack of DVDs and your fingers brush. His heart jumps at the contact. 

"Here," you say, "pick one out." You smile with that easygoing energy that's become so familiar to him. Sleepovers have been a pretty regular occurrence for a while now, and they still fill him with a warm, bubbling excitement. He decides which one he wants to watch first, and you slide the disc into your laptop. 

“Oh wow,” he starts laughing at the grainy camera quality, “Matilda caught in 4k.” 

“Shut up,” you laugh, nudging him playfully, “this was from, like, 10 years ago.” 

At first it was hard to look past the sketchy camera quality and low volume of the bootlegs - or slime tutorials as you jokingly called them - but now he’s learned to see past it. He latches on quickly to your singing, feeling himself get sucked into the story right away. He’s seen another version of you performing as Matilda, but this one is the infamous stripped down one. Even though he knows the reasons behind the drastic set change, the critics were right - it does add something to the way the story is told. He realizes that even though they’ve kind of been flying by the seat of their pants to make it to opening night, it will still turn out okay.

After watching Matilda, you practice your stage makeup, and have Ricky help you pick out the perfect shade of Sharpay pink nail polish. You had put on High School Musical - it was practically obligatory - and you made it about 15 minutes into the sequel before you were in Ricky’s lap. His lips are all over you, pressing into yours, your neck, your cheek. He squeezes your waist, arms snaking around to pull you closer to him. He bites your lip playfully, getting you to gasp a little, and pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands are on his face, in his hair, and he can’t get enough of your touch. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth, angling his head to deepen the kiss. 

Your phone buzzes as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. He runs his tongue over your skin, biting, and making you giggle. You get so flustered when he kisses you like this, and he absolutely loves watching you get more worked up for him. You glance down, seeing the notification from the pizza place you ordered from on your phone. 

“Ricky,” you start, and he hums in response, biting your neck again, “Ricky, the-” 

You’re cut off by a knock at the door. He pulls away reluctantly, and you take in each other’s disheveled states. 

“Pizza guy.” you finish, getting off his lap to go down stairs. He sighs, staring at the doorway you just disappeared through. He’s still full of that frenetic energy he gets when you touch him. You look so sweet when you’re blushing and giggling for him, he wants to make you even more flustered like that. His phone buzzes with a text from Nini. He’s still getting used to seeing her contact without the hearts that always used to be around it.

Before he can finish typing out a response, you reenter the room holding up pizza and breadsticks triumphantly. He smiles and sets his phone face down. He wants to be here with you, eating pizza and watching sitcoms, trying not to get too nervous and excited about how close opening night is. The only drama he wants to think about right now is the onstage kind. 

Nina sits on her bed, homework forgotten as she rants to Kourtney over facetime. Ricky left her on read. Again. He never used to do that, not until he started hanging around you. Kourtney’s been listening to her talk about you to death for at least an hour, and she’s out of ways to respond. 

“I am so done talking about this.” Nini laughs, shaking her head. 

“Good, cause-” 

“It’s just, like,” she continues, and Kourtney thinks she should have known where that was going. It was at least the third time Nini declared she was done with the topic at hand. Nini continues, “do you think hanging out a couple times gives you the right to be so possessive over someone?” 

In the time they’ve been facetiming she’s cleaned her room, picked out her clothes for tomorrow, and finished her homework. She’s half way through her skincare routine, and secretly hoping this will wrap up soon so she can get some rest for tomorrow. 

“Like, last summer Ricky went on dates with a few girls - not just hanging out - and by the start of school he only wanted to be with me. So, really she’s just making herself look desperate. It’s just sad that he’s going to dump her soon and come back to me like he always does, and she’ll have no idea it’s coming. Like, that’s going to be really embarrassing for her, right?” the faux sympathy in her voice turns into a chuckle. 

Kourtney’s brow furrows. In spite of how sick she is of hearing about this, she can’t shake the feeling that you and Ricky are obviously closer than two people who have just hung out a few times. She’s seen the way you look at each other, the way you talk to each other. People who feel platonically about each other don’t do that. 

“Uh, Neen, what exactly did she say?” she tries to sound casual so Nini doesn’t get suspicious, but she’s so wrapped up in her train of thought, she doesn’t notice the I have a hunch about something look Kourtney always gets when she suspects something is up. 

“She was like, uh,” she begins in an exaggerated impression of you, “we like, totally hooked up a couple times, but we haven’t made anything official, but that still means he only likes me. Also you dumped him, so… like, you have no right to be in his life anymore, and he basically hates you now.” 

Kourtney squints. Through Nini’s very biased recount of the exchange you had, if any of that was verbatim, if you really did tell her you hooked up with Ricky… what kind of hooking up did you mean? Nini seems to think it’s the casual meeting up kind - let’s all hook up at denny’s after the show -  but Kourtney isn’t so sure. It’s none of her business, it’s really none of her business. Plus, pointing this out to Nini would just make her even more obsessed and freaked out than she is. She needs to move on from Ricky, and the last thing Kourtney wants to do is make that harder for her. She and Ricky aren’t together, and she’s certainly not going to be the one to enable any prying or backsliding, intentional or not. Instead, she redirects. 

“Uh… I don’t think she can cut you out of his life for him.”

“Right?!” Nini exclaims, glad someone agrees with her. “Like, we’ve known each other since kindergarten. I’ve known him longer than anyone. You can’t get that close to someone that fast.” She sighs. “Also… there’s something about her that’s been bothering me…” Kourtney scoffs.

“What about her doesn’t bother you?”

“No, no,” Nini laughs, thinking back, “it was something Gina said…” it's been itching in the back of her mind for a while, and she can't ignore it any longer. She has to finally figure this out. She shakes her head, knowing she shouldn't keep Kourtney up any longer. "It's probably nothing. Whatever, I'll see you tomorrow night, Kourt." 

"Okay. Night, Nini." 

Finally, she hangs up. She should go to sleep. She has a big day tomorrow - it's opening night for god's sake - she should go to bed. Instead she opens her laptop, typing 'broadway matilda basement flood' into the search bar. She clicks on one article, then another. Eventually she finds a picture of three girls in matching Matilda costumes and is hit hard by nostalgia. She was obsessed with Matilda when she was a kid, always begging her moms to take her to New York so she can audition and be a Matilda on Broadway, be part of the friend group of other girls her age acting on Broadway together. The girl on the right was always her favorite, and she used to watch the backstage videos she was in for broadway.com vlogs all the time. She completely forgot about her Matilda phase, how obsessed she was with those girls. 

She looks at the caption of the photo, caught off guard by her favorite's name. It’s the same as yours. But that can't be you, right? The last names are different. And her parents are divorced. She remembers when you mentioned it at rehearsal once. She opens another tab, continuing to search for an answer. Hours pass and she's deep into the Google rabbit hole. Hours pass, and she confirms it’s you. You played Matilda on frigging Broadway. After extensive research, she pieces together that you and your mom both had you last names changed to her maiden name, presumably after the divorce, and it doesn't look like you've acted professionally since. She opens the same tabs on her phone to look at later. She shuts her laptop and flops back into her pillows. She stares at the ceiling in disbelief that you've somehow managed to keep a secret this massive from everyone. 

After eating a majority of the pizza and breadsticks, drinking several cups of tea, and watching some more Netflix, you and Ricky are finally ready for bed and curl up under the covers with each other. You're lying up next to his chest, your body heat minglinf together, and he doesn't think he's ever felt more at peace. Your hand is warm through his shirt, and he keeps pressing kisses across your face just to hear your sweet giggle. You smile at him, blinking sleepily, and when he looks into your eyes he feels it. He's home. He gazes at your face, enamored, never wanting to look away. You look so pretty like this, curled up next to him and half asleep. He's learned to tell when he's going to sleep really well and it's always on nights like this. He never knew how badly he needed to feel his breath sync up with yours, feel your hearts beating in time. He can't imagine being more content than he is right here, with you. Even the air in your room smells sweet to him, just because you're here so often. 

He thinks back, running through the whole night again, returning again and again to being right here with you. Every moment with you is amazing. You have this way of transforming the mundane into something special. He’s still in disbelief that he’s the one who gets to lay next to you at the end of the day, he's the one you have whispered conversations with when you're both stupid tired. He gets to be the one to make you giggle and smile over nothing. He remembers a tweet he saw a while ago that said 'You're in her dms, I'm dancing in the kitchen with her while the bread we made bakes. We're not the same.' You might not be in the kitchen right now, but he really understands the sentiment right now. You're cuddled into his chest, melting into his touch, blushing and hiding your face when he looks at you too long like that. It’s him, not some other guy. He doesn't think other guys could be as devoted to you as he is, they couldn't love you the way he can, the way you deserve to be loved. 

He's really glad you're with him and not with some fuckboy who would just want you for your body and break your heart. The idea that anyone could even think about doing that to you, even some hypothetical fuckboy, makes him sick. You're so sweet, so easy to love. He doesn't know how everyone you've met hasn't fallen in love with you, how every guy isn't throwing themselves at you. A twinge of jealousy passes through him at the thought. He brushes the thought aside, reminding himself that you're here with him. As if proving his point, you set aside your favorites squishmallow to cuddle him closer and his heart feels like it's going to burst. Girls don't do that if they don't really… really like someone, right?

You settle against him and let out a big sigh. He's had enough sleepovers with you to know that means you're about to be out like a light. He is too, and he fights off his heavy eyelids long enough to get one more good look at you before they close. He smiles as he starts to drift off. This is his favorite part, getting to fall asleep next to you do he can wake up next to you, just like he wants to forever. He can't imagine a morning where he doesn't get to see you, doesn't get to hold you in his arms, and he doesn't want to. He brushes that aside, and focuses instead on how nice you smell, how comforting your breath is on his neck. You're so warm, you make him feel so warm, and he can't get enough of your body heat and his becoming one under the mass of blankets. He doesn't know what tomorrow will hold, but he's so excited to experience it, to have his very first opening night with you. 

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 3

Best Bad Decision Ever

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: pure, unadulterated fluff; alcohol use; Maree makes a baffling choice

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Kix said.

This is possibly the worst idea I’ve had in years, Maree thought. She was under no delusions that the office gossip chain would be any kinder than Denau, though it would likely be couched in passive aggressive little barbs. She doubted anyone would have raised an eyebrow if Kix had only been a client, but his appearance at the gala would certainly fuel speculation that she was pursuing him out of mercenary considerations. 

It was unavoidable now. Kix’s confrontation with Denau had undoubtedly already ignited a maelstrom of swirling rumors. Disappearing with him for hours immediately afterward would only make the pair more conspicuous. The problem was, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She’d been drawn to him from the moment he walked into her office, and every shred of caution flew out of her head the instant he took the blow that was meant for her. It was not so much the fact that he had protected her specifically as the unwavering sense that he would have stepped in to protect anyone who was being targeted by someone bigger and stronger. It was wildly attractive.

Besides, she rationalized, he was only staying in the Hosnian system for a few days, which meant that there was no possibility that he’d be interested in anything long-term. It was perfect. Any scandalized whispers among the staff would die down once he was gone. And Maree would be free to continue her life without interruption, just the way she always did.

They wandered a circuitous path through the garden, passing the bottle back and forth and chatting amiably about nothing in particular. By the time they reached the large central fountain, the wine was gone, and they transitioned seamlessly to the bottle Kix had carried, which turned out to be Pamarthen Port in a Storm.

He took a long drink and then passed her the bottle. She took a generous sip and immediately sputtered.

“That is some high-octane hooch,” she coughed.

“You didn’t know what it was when you grabbed it?” he asked, amused.

“Nope, that’s half the fun,” she said. “One time I made it all the way back here and found out I’d snagged a bottle of Renan Irongut. You cannot imagine the hangover.”

She shuddered delicately, and Kix chuckled.

“My feet are killing me,” she said. “Let’s sit here for a while.”

“On the ground? Your dress is going to get dirty,” Kix objected.

“So’s your suit. We’ll match!” she said.

“We already match,” he pointed out.

She looked down at their complementary outfits and laughed. “So we do. But who wore it better?”

“You,” he said immediately.

“I beg to differ.” She plopped to the ground and let out a relieved sigh. “That’s better. Whoever made those shoes should be arrested for sentient rights violations. ‘Cruel and unusual’ doesn’t begin to describe them.”

Kix sat next to her, lowering himself to the ground with considerably more grace than she had.

“Shall I give you a foot massage?” he offered.

“Uh, probably better not,” she said. “I was walking in only my stockings through the entire library. Force alone knows what’s on those floors.”

“Whatever it was, I guarantee I’ve seen worse,” he said.

“Maybe some other time,” she said.

He leaned his back against the wall of the fountain as she took another sip and grimaced. The liquor burned going down, and she was starting to feel an agreeable numbness in her fingertips.

“You ever bring other people back here?” he asked.

“Apparently it’s frowned upon to hide and drink alone, so yes,” she said. “Usually Valsi. Also Tane, a couple of times. They hate these functions as much as I do.”

“Valsi? Is that Dr. Corruss?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said. 

“I thought you said academics were boring.”

Her head was beginning to spin. Apparently, Port in a Storm worked quickly.

“Valsi and I are the exceptions that prove the rule. We’ve been best friends since university, and she’s been right by my side, cheering me on through every bad decision I’ve ever made.”

“Is that what this is?” Kix asked, passing the bottle back to her. “A bad decision?”

“That remains to be seen,” she said with a crooked little smile, and took another drink.

“What about Tane?” he asked casually.

Maree shrugged. “I don’t know him that well. He only joined the Archive a year ago. I had no idea he had such a bloodthirsty streak. We usually just argue about something pointless, like whether the DC-15A carbine or the DC-17 was the superior blaster.” 

Kix smiled. “And which side do you take?”

“Whichever side Tane doesn’t. The point isn’t really to win the debate; it’s just to get him worked up until he starts ranting,” Maree said. She shifted to face him. “Is your shoulder as comfortable as it looks?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her abrupt change of subject. “I’ve never tested it. Why don’t you find out and let me know?”

She hummed happily and snuggled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and dragged his thumb in lazy circles on her hip, pulling the silky fabric of her gown between his fingers in a hypnotic motion.

“It’s an excellent shoulder pillow,” she said. “Ten out of ten, would cuddle again. I can write you a letter of recommendation, if you’d like, for your future prospective cuddle partners. I write excellent letters of recommendation. All the interns ask me for them. Half of my job is writing letters of recommendation.”

A lock of hair worked itself loose from her updo, and Kix brushed it softly away from her face.

“You’re fun when you drink,” he said.

“Are you saying I’m boring when I’m sober?” she demanded with mock offense.

“Not at all, but I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to be a clandestine garden snuggler when I met you. You seemed so serious about your work.”

“That’s because I am serious about my work,” she said. “My work takes up all of my seriousness, so I don’t have any left over for the rest of my life. Besides, I don’t snuggle just anyone in my secret garden. Only the ones who throw themselves into danger to defend me.”

Kix snorted. “I was hardly in danger. That idiot couldn’t even land a punch.”

“Maybe not on you,” she said sincerely, “but I don’t know the first thing about fighting, and he could have seriously hurt me if you hadn’t stepped in. Thank you.”

He squeezed his arm tighter around her and leaned his cheek onto her hair.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

Maree’s heart fluttered. He said it with such confidence, as if it were the most natural and obvious thing in the galaxy. She didn’t doubt him for a moment. It was a heady feeling, and she stifled it before she could get carried away. She was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and the lingering pulse of adrenaline. 

“You should come back here in the daylight,” she said, steering the topic in a less fraught direction. “There are some really incredible plant specimens.”

“I’ve seen some wild plants in the Outer Rim,” he said. “Plants big enough to swallow a man whole, and they do it, too.”

“Is that where you’re from? The Outer Rim?”

“Sometimes,” he said vaguely. “I travel a lot for work.”

“What do you do for work?” she asked.

“Asset retrieval.”

“‘Asset retrieval’? As in, bounty hunting?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he said. “At least, not yet.”

“I can introduce you to the head librarian if you’re interested in expanding into the overdue library book retrieval market,” she offered.

He laughed. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need a career change. So tell me about these plant specimens.”

“I don’t think they keep any man-eaters here. I could be wrong, but if they do, they’d be in a secure containment tank like the other deadly plants.”

“Amazing how something so beautiful can kill you so easily,” he observed.

“And in such creative ways,” she agreed. “There’s a rumor—I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I heard that a couple years ago, two of the botanists got exposed to a toxic pollen with some—uh—let’s say unique properties.”

He shifted to look down at her.

“What kind of properties?” he asked, intrigued.

She shot him an impish look from under her lashes, then stretched up to whisper in his ear.

“No way!” he exclaimed.

“I swear to the gods,” she laughed. “I mean, it might just be a rumor, but every time they ran into each other for months after that, they both looked like they wanted one of those man-eating plants to swallow them.”

“What happened to them?” he asked.

“That’s the best part,” she giggled. “They got married.”

Kix guffawed. “Do you think the pollen caused them to act on their existing feelings, or do you think they developed feelings for each other after the incident?”

Maree shrugged. “We’ll never know. Supposedly, the Archive director had the plants destroyed so there wouldn’t be any other incidents. If the story is actually true, that could have been a huge liability for the library.”

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose,” he said.

They talked and laughed and snuggled late into the night, and the level of liquid in the bottle dropped lower and lower until at last it was empty.

“I should get you home,” he sighed into her hair.

“Mmm, big day tomorrow,” she agreed. “It won’t be as fun as this.”

“Do you think the gala is still going strong?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m not risking it,” she said. “I’ll take you out the staff entrance. It’s closer than the main entrance, anyway. We can get a taxi from there.”

She put her shoes back on and Kix helped her to her feet.

“Ugh, I should have just left them on in the first place,” she said. “I think they hurt worse now than they did before.”

“Come here,” Kix said.

“Hmm?” she asked.

“Put your hands around my shoulders.”

“Mr. Kix, are you trying to seduce me?” she giggled as she obeyed.

“When I do, you won’t need to ask,” he said.

He picked her up by the waist and swung her up onto the wide stone ledge surrounding the fountain.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

He turned to stand in front of her so she was facing his back.

“Hop on,” he said. “I don’t know where I’m going, so you’ll have to navigate.”

“Or I could walk,” she pointed out.

“Could you, though? Really?”

“Yes,” she grumbled. “It just wouldn’t be very fun.”

“Well, I happen to think this is very fun, so climb on my back and tell me where to go from here.”

“Fine,” she said, hiking up her skirts so she could wrap her legs around his midsection. 

He hoisted her onto his back, and she whooped with laughter as she clung unsteadily to his shoulders. He gave her a little boost to settle her more securely.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Onward, noble steed!” she exclaimed.

He carried her effortlessly through the darkened library, following her directions to the letter. She marveled at his strength. He didn’t even break a sweat, and she was not exactly light as a feather. Before many minutes had passed, they exited the building and she slid off his back as they hailed a taxi. 

“Where to?” asked the droid driver.

Maree gave it her address as they settled into the back seat. The night air was frigid, and she had neglected to retrieve her cloak from the coat check before they embarked on their garden excursion. She leaned closer to Kix for warmth, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her securely against his body. They didn’t speak during the ride, and Maree drifted pleasantly. When the taxi pulled to a stop in front of her building, Kix told the droid to wait while he walked her to her door.

“This is me,” Maree said.

She was sorely tempted to invite him in, but her lingering tatters of professionalism won out in the end. 

“Thank you for getting me home safely,” she said instead. “You’ve been watching out for me all night.”

“It was my sincere pleasure,” Kix said. “Until tomorrow, Maree.”

“Good night, Kix,” she said.

---

Chapter 4

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar

[fandom-space-princess]

An Audacious Undertaking, Even to God

Fandom: The Murderbot Diaries

Rating: Gen

Relationships: SecUnit 1 & SecUnit 2 & SecUnit 3

Additional tags: Book 5: Network Effect, Book 7: System Collapse, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Queerplatonic Relationships, 1 & 2 do still die but not for very long, 3 needs its friends back :( , studies in construct relations

Chapter: 3/?

Read chapter below, or on AO3.

——————————

In the CR-standard hour it has taken Perihelion to return to the space dock, the clients have been brought out of the shuttle and relocated into quarantine. The transport’s humans have returned to their personal quarters, which are at present disconnected from the ship feed and insulated from its passive and active scanning functions. My own clients are in a room which appears to serve as a temporary dormitory on a recurring basis, and which is similarly isolated from connectivity.

I am not able to contribute meaningfully to this effort. Humans often seem to move slowly in comparison to the speed with which I process my surroundings, but at the moment, my performance is still suffering. Arada and Ratthi each individually advised that I remain as far from the explorer’s retrieved crew as possible.

(Ratthi: “If they ask, it’ll be easier to convince them we don’t know what happened to you if you haven’t been helping us move them bodily around the ship.”

Arada: “We can hope. You think they’ll remember who rescued them?”

Amena: “They might not. Eletra’s memory is still pretty messed up. We can play it off like one of us pulled them out, maybe, if it comes up? Say we went over ourselves, had to bring their shuttle back with us.”

Arada: “Believability concerns aside, encouraging someone to question their own mind is deeply unethical.”

Ratthi: “We can’t just let them take it back, either.”)

The gurney carrying 001’s body has vanished deeper into the ship. I do not know where it has gone, or what has been done with it. The thought of asking inspires contradictory sensations deep within my organic components. I want to ask. I do not, perhaps, want to know.

And so I do not ask.

I have new responsibilities to focus on, and this eases the feeling somewhat. We have come back to the space dock to complete the recovery of Perihelion’s crew. The tenor of its interactions both in the public feed and with myself privately has become perceptibly different since we arrived. It is still very angry. But that anger is now pointed in a direction that does not appear to include me, and when it does speak to me it is with an air of calculated consideration.

We have a plan for the retrieval of Murderbot 1.0—this is incorrect. We have a plan for the retrieval of the being which its clients (and Perihelion, when speaking aloud) refer to as “SecUnit.” I only partially understand why they do this. The memories shared with me by 2.0 included the practice, but did not explain its source; I know only that it prefers this state of affairs to the actionable alternatives. This explains the indirect phrasing of Amena’s initial query regarding my own name.

(“Three” does and does not feel like a name that might belong to me. When I attempt to imagine what I might like to be called that is more appropriate, however, my internal processes return a pointer variable. I already know what files I will find stored at that location, so I have been trying not to think about it.)

Our other retrieval mission is also set to commence shortly. After Perihelion revealed that it had refitted its pathfinders with explosive ordnance, Ratthi expressed a desire to inspect the one he is to escort planetside. As he has no specific training in such matters, he is consulting over the comm with one of Perihelion’s humans (feedID(“Tarik”), gender(male/masc)) from his position onboard the currently-ascending drop box. Arada is preparing the other shuttle. Neither of them have requested my help with these processes.

As of 3.77 minutes ago, Amena has cycled back through the transport’s main airlock and re-entered the space dock. According to our earlier conversation with the crew, those who are returning to the ship are in need of medical care, and so Amena has accompanied a drone gurney across to the drop box foyer with emergency supplies in the event they are deemed necessary. She stated that my presence would be welcome, should I care to accompany her.

It was not a command, and also not a question. I am no longer required to respond to either commands or questions. But in the absence of compulsion and protocol I find I have little guidance for what constitutes an acceptable response to many of the things that have been said to me. After the not-command-and-not-question, there passed a prolonged delay during which Amena stood patiently, looking past my left shoulder. My buffer eventually produced, “I’m sorry, I don’t have that information.” She shrugged one shoulder, smiled, nodded, and continued on to the airlock.

And now I am standing outside the main shuttle dock, staring at the wall. I do not have time to assist Amena before we depart for the planet. I tell myself this, once.

But…

No. It would compromise my ability to participate in this retrieval.

But.

The transport is watching me, silently, in the feed. Then it says: I can ask her to get it for you. She would agree without reservation.

I have already proven myself unable to perform my function once. The probability of repeating this outcome feels unacceptably high, given my current goals.

I send: Query: you examined it?

Perihelion: I reviewed SecUnit’s findings and performed my own additional scans, yes.

My first failure nearly cost me personal functionality, which I am willing to risk, and file integrity, which I am not. Do you believe it is serviceable?

Perihelion: Doubtful, but I would require more data to be certain.

I no longer know what responsibilities I owe to this situation, or… to them. 001’s body is somewhere nearby, damaged more comprehensively that I have ever seen. And 002’s body is on the other side of these walls, via a door which I am currently choosing not to pass through. When I had no ability to decide where I went or why, they were always nearby. Now that I have the power to make such a choice, I cannot go to them, because—at least for the moment—they exist only in me.

If I do not bring 002’s platform aboard, what will happen to it? Will the transport’s crew salvage it? Will the hostile humans take it?

If it is within mission bounds… please. And… I hesitate. This is difficult to ask. Resource allocation request: local mirror personal storage.

Perihelion’s presence withdraws almost entirely. For a moment I wonder if I have caused offense, but then it returns. It has granted me administrative access to a small partition of its onboard memory. The allocated space is a fraction of a sliver of its resources, but it is enough—more than enough. It has given me a place to copy my files.

The duplication process runs, and I examine the backups for imperfections or data loss. Perihelion watches me work. When they are in place a heaviness lifts from my organic components. The muscles in my chest and back loosen. I tell it: Thank you.

If 002’s platform is brought aboard, I do not know if it will be repairable. I do not know if I will be able to restore it. When I consider this my performance reliability begins to drop, and so I am trying not to consider it. I need to maintain optimal functionality for the task ahead of me.

2.0 sent me here to help. I do not believe it anticipated that I would do so in exactly this way, but I do not think it would be disappointed. Its desire for the secure retrieval of its original iteration and platform is obvious. And it offered me governance of myself when it had no need to do so—when it might in fact have been less of a risk not to do so. I am not unaware of the fact that it could have chosen to hack me. It did not. What it offered instead has amounted to an overture of trust, of friendship.

I see no reason the gesture should not be reciprocal.

I may not be able to restore 001 and 002, and this thought causes me more pain than any other. But I still have my function. For these humans who offer their kindness so freely, for the unknowable and terrifying transport, for 2.0—I will try to save what can still be saved.

——————————

[Before]

SecUnit-003: Alert, priority designation: URGENT. System acknowledge.

SecSystem: …

SecUnit-003: Shipwide alert. Priority designation: URGENT. System acknowledge.

SecSystem: …

I don’t think it can hear me.

SecUnit-003: Request command belay. Request command reissue. System acknowledge.

SecSystem: …

The bot pilot has been deleted. HubSystem is unresponsive. I do not know who or what is piloting the ship. My messages are pinging… something. I am receiving an echo from the remnants of SecSystem, but it is as though I am shouting into a cavern, hoping to receive a response from my own voice.

And I cannot move.

SecUnit-003: Initiate buffer purge.

SecUnit-003: Request command reissue.

SecUnit-003: Request command belay.

SecUnit-003: System acknowledge.

Nothing.

Some portion of the bridge crew remains alive in the lounge behind me—my continued compliance with my governance protocols is proof of this. What state they may be in is currently unknown. I was not able to aid in their defense. Before I even reached the bridge, SecSystem had been remotely instructed to cycle its command codes, and I was ordered into stand-down mode. From my position in the hallway, I watched the hostile boarding party overtake the bridge in coordination with the tactical team. As 001 had reported, they appeared compromised, operating under a compulsion that I could neither interpret nor offer assistance with.

The intruders spent several minutes out of my line of sight. SecSystem’s access to the bridge cameras was cut off. There was an exchange of energy weapons fire, then silence. When next one of the compromised tactical team emerged into the hallway, it was to order me to follow them back to the bridge and collect the bodies of the crew. They had been rendered physically immobile via mechanisms crudely spliced into their musculature, and two of them had sustained burns and contusions, but they were otherwise unharmed. I was instructed to deposit them in the lounge nearby, and then return to standby mode.

In the interim the situation has further deteriorated. At one point contact with a network-external ship was made. This resulted in some number of the hostiles departing the explorer, but they have been replaced by humans who are now in a situation identical to that of my own clients. I have tracked our movements through this system to the best of my ability, but with a hostile control system in place and SecSystem all but stripped of functionality, my inputs have shrunk to only my physical sensor arrays. The feeling is claustrophobic.

Eventually, I cease my attempts to ping SecSystem. More than a day has passed since the initial incursion, and I have disabled my olfactory sensors entirely. Between the unnatural cloying organic scent given off by the intruders and the onset of decay of the still-unattended corpses, the ship smells unpleasantly of death. There is no indication that either the remaining crew or the hostiles are likely to organize themselves well enough to find a use for me anytime soon. I cannot raise any of the supply team on broad-range comms. I have attempted many times to reinitialize 001, to contact 002, each time without success. I can do nothing but wait, and so I do.

But then—

It is unremarkable, at first. A maintenance program within SecSystem claims a fragment of its processing space, and it vanishes from my view. Ordinarily this would be so routine as to be unworthy of notice, but nothing about these circumstances is ordinary. I watch intently in the ship feed. Tiny eddies disturb what has been, until now, placid code. The hostileControlSystem that has installed itself in the ship could be responsible, but thus far it has not been successful in making use of what remains of SecSystem, and nothing it has otherwise done has been subtle.

Then, out of nowhere: System System: Unit Acknowledge.

And the reconfiguration of my existence begins.

——————————

[anthros-vanitas-archive]

Magic System Inspiration Tag

Thank you @autumnalwalker for the tag. Really late about this one but I was planning into making it as part of Worldbuilding Wednesday but I got sick and yesterday I was trying to rest from a really bad fever. So apologies.

Passing the tag to @ashen-crest, @serpentarii and @rexxles an open tag for anyone else who wants to share.

Rules: list the inspiration(s) for your WIP's magic system and, if you want, go into detail.

As explain in other post the magic system in <Redallus> is one that comprehends different levels of complexity the inspiration for those levels can be mainly draw from D&D in the components required to cast a spell (Verbal, Somatic, Material) which are very similar to those in <Redallus> (Verbal, Somatic, Written), but the key difference is that in D&D components are just way to flavor and rule some mechanics in which depending of the spell it has certain requires attach to it, while in <Redallus> depending of how strong or complex the spell is it requires certain level of knowledge and mastery.

On the other hand, the last level in this power scale is mainly inspired by historical alchemy and of course Full Metal Alchemist, "magic circles" in Grimoires function very similar to how "transmutation circles" function in FMA, each circle having certain proprieties that allows the caster to make different types of 'alchemical' processes depending of the circle. Each taking energy and material equivalent to the power desire. In case of FMA, souls are the main catalyst in creating energy that allows Alchemist to make everything possible without any limitations of material or physic restrictions such as the 'Law of Equivalent Exchange'. In <Redallus> that energy comes from the Magus so it's limited to the same caster, causing someone who exceeds that energy to have some drawback in his own physical body, but spells can also be practice to spend less of that energy allowing the caster to not only have less drawback but also the capability of making 'simpler' spells more and more powerful.

Some other minor inspirations in the creation of my magic system can be Brandon Sanderson's masterclass explaining magic systems, aswell as other videos about Soft and Hard magic systems on the internet, also the anime Akashic Records of Bastard Magical Instructor who inspire the whole concept of reducing Enchantments and Encantations and how that can sometimes alter the result of the same spell.

Now there are some other inspirations regarding the magic system and magic society in general, so this is your point of warning, this details are reserve to explore in the book so:

MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD OF THE ETERNAL THRONE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Very well then, traveler.

Again as source of inspiration we have D&D and, more specifically, the weave of magic, the weave of magic created by the goddess Mystra is very similar in concept to the connection of magic in the world of <Redallus>, in this case in <Redallus> there isn't a certain explanation of what is the origin of this magic, but thanks to the elvish people, humans long ago learned to use the magic that connects all physical things together. So everything is connected with magic, and everyone can used it, but what is the principle behind doing magic? In the action of trying, this magic is based in the individual and collective consciousness, the energy mention early being base in the power of the mind, giving the capability to some, for example, to cure their diseases by their will power alone.

This also changes based on the caster knowing more in detail how physical elements work in the process of imagining and with this channeling it into the spell, using the last example, the sick person can cure their desease if their will power is strong enough but if a doctor knew which bacteria and in which area of their body is this bacteria, they could use a spell capable of increasing the temperature of this kind of bacteria destroying it. So in general strokes 'knowledge=power', really smart Magus have figure out this secret, and in general they have more knowledge about the individual processes in complex spells, being able to learn and understand those makes more easy the use of spells, like knowing that a fire spell is consuming the air around it so you just infused it with oxigen to make it more powerful.

That's basically how the Ancient Empire of Magus worked, they weren't bless people capable of teleporting around or making flying cities, they were scientist knowing how space and gravity works and bending it to their will.

And here goes the final inspiration in this story, their final fall, inspired by the world of Matt Mercer and most importantly the campaing of Critical Role: Calamity, the people of the Ancient Empire of Magus basically fell for their own pride and hubris, society was build around how powerful in magic you were, but this made a social and class disparity, which also made revolution to start happening from those who weren't capable of using magic, and internal conflict from those in power. Destroying that advance civilization and all the knowledge acquired in it.

After this only a few survived, but from the survivors were created different types of perspective about the use of magic, ones who seem it as inherently evil and a power that could only lead to destruction, creating the first order of Executioners; and those who saw it as the way of progress and knowledge, being the predecessors of Magus on the 'actual' era.

[ibyte13]

I keep seeing posts about how awful biden is and that we shouldn't vote for him blah blah blah. The problem with this is that there is a misunderstanding happening on how our political system is currently functioning and whatpart of its life span we are in. I went off in the tags of a post earlier and i apologize for that I'm just gonna make an actual post about it now.

Right now we are at a tipping point in old politics vs new politics. Old politics being that the majority of important shit that matters is happening behidn the scenes. You don't get to see that as the general public for a number of reasons. The things going on are delicate political maneuvering, anyone whose played a political intrigue game knows this. It's a lot like a game of chess except the pieces you are playing with are also other players and you are also a piece on their board. This makes control of information very very important, so keeping it out of the public eye is tantamount to success. These are the rules biden is playing by. The man is an old school politician and he's very good at it. He's a repair man, not a hero.

What trump is doing is playing new politics rules where he's essentially shattering the screen that hides all the pieces and moves that are happening from the public eye and dragging them into the light. People are reactionary. The public as a whole are awful at playing chess and cannot see even three moves down the line from where they are now. So when someone playing by old rules, who speaks vaguely in order to try and placate the masses without revealing their hand is faced with someone who plays with half a deck up their sleeve and their hand face up on the table, now the ones holding their hands close look suspicious, even though you can see the other guys sleeve has a distinct card shaped lump in it and he is not subtle about pulling cards out.

New school politics is the equivalent of a high school popularity contest. "He said this and she said that, then this person did this and can you even imagine the audacity they had to even thi k of saying such a thing" that's new politics. It's an excellent manipulation tactic in the age of social media where the distraction is the key. "Here look at this flashy thing of a politician not being in the know about queer people" or some such while the same person who said that is actively making it so that queer people can't marry or what have you. This is just an example.

So back to Biden v Trump. Biden is old school. Trump is new school. The fact that they are both old dudes matters not. The thing about both is that they are just people and people are not perfect. Biden is not condemning Israel's actions in Gaza which is fucking terrible and worse is bending over backwards to give supplies to israel in fact which is double fucking terrible. We will face the consequences for this. Problem, he's operating under the fact that we have a treaty (i think don't quote me on this and in fact feel free to correct me here) with israel. We are their allies and as their allies we cannot just condemn them outright. Not by old politic rules. But new politic rules are making it a necessity and using it as a manipulation point. What Biden is doing is about a hundred other things that will not make news but ultimately improve our lives here in the states, for example he's working to make marijuana a schedule 3 drug instead of schedule 1 meaning it'd be federally legal for recreational use much in the same way ibprofen or aspirin is from my understanding. No more piss tests, veterans would be able to use it if they're reciving VA medical care etc. Not making headlines. The rail workers strike, Biden forced a stop gap resolution to save infrastructure and critical economic functions, then kept working to get the union members everything they wanted. Again, no headlines about that second part. Airplans are being required to be more disability friendly and required to have bathrooms large enough for an on board wheel chair if need be. Again not making headlines, and these are just the things I've had to dig for recently.

Trump did nothing like that. He made capitol hill the laughing stock of the modern world for all four years he was in office and tried to stage a coup on live television. There is a maifesto circulating called Project 2025 and if you haven't heard of it go look it up. It's 90 almost 100 pages detailing what will happen should trump or another republican be elected president in this coming election cycle. The long story short is that if that happens, we will not have another election and US democracy as we know it will die.

Now rag on Biden all you want, critcize him, let it be known that you are not happy with how he has handled Israel and Gaza. But don't pretend for a second that Trump would handle it any better or any republican for that matter. They'd've handled it worse most likely plus a whole lot of other shit to boot.

Another tidbit you might have pop up into your mind: but ibyte! There's more than just Trump and Biden to vote for! And to that I say yes, there is, but let me let you in on a secret about American politics: if you do not vote for Biden, you are voting for Trump even if you are voting for a canidate that is arguably better than Biden and here's why. The democratic convention and democratic party have thrown their weight behind Biden as the incumbent President so any third candidate already won't have the backing of one of the two major parties. The republicans are throwing their weight behind Trump or someone slightly left of trump (i haven't had a chance to keep up with that the past month or so). Problem is that the democrats and republicans tend to be so.e of the most right leaning parties in this country, so people who hate democrats and will not vote for them sure as shit ain't gonna vote for someone more left of democrats which is where a majority of the small but better candidates lie on the spectrum, they're gonna vote for Trump or whatever Trump replacement republicans have on deck. Thus is you vote for someone more left than Biden, all you are doing is taking vltes away from Biden because everyone more right wasn't gonna vote for anyone but a republican anyway. This is why it's important that you vote for Biden.

This election period is not about Biden vs Trump: round 2. This election is about Democracy vs Dictatorship. A friend of mine likes to say that history doesn't repeat itself, but it sure as hell rhymes. We are quite literally watching a rerun of the events leading to World War II right on schedule. The US will become the fourth Reich if we do not take this election seriously and the facist corners of this country know it and are doing everything in their power to be loud about how badly biden is fucking up the israel gaza tragedy.

Yes be critical, but do not pretend for a minute that Biden and Trump are equivalent choices.

[purple-tello]

OP when you use the trigger warning Meltdown, what are you referring to? Are you talking about an actual autistic meltdown or a severe panic attack?

Autistic meltdown. Obviously we all know Donnie is somewhere on the spectrum, and I like to explore that trait of his as a character a lot. I love the Autism rep and love that's been happening a lot as of late, but I often see that it's watered down to "sarcastic, ambitions, relatable, moody and low-empathy," and while these are traits of Autism, there's not a lot of positive representation for the wider parts of the spectrum, including lower functioning emotional control and meltdowns.

I'm employed in a school district where I've worked with both autistic children and adults. I've been trained to recognize traits of Intellectual Disorders (furthermore called I.D.'s in this post) including autism and the more extreme symptoms of them. One of these is the meltdowns I reference in the tags.

Donnie in TTATC has canonically had two major meltdowns. One where he was overwhelmed by the glitches in his tech - and the resulting injury Venus sustained - as well as this recent one where he got turned into a bunny and the hair sent him into a spiral. I classify these as meltdowns and not panic attacks because Donnie does not show any control of himself in these situations. He shouts at people he loves, he hits and kicks, and on occasion, will hit or bite himself as a way of letting out the overwhelming energy.

Working with autistic adults and children, most of the traits I give to Donnie come directly from my students with the same mentality I portray Donnie with. The first major meltdown on TTATC was referenced by both Leo and Venus, and the methods which they used to calm Donnie down are some of the ones I apply in real world situations with my students. They're helpful to reassure someone that they're perfectly safe, to keep them grounded and calm, and more importantly they humanize and meet the needs of someone who's struggling so hard they lose all control of themselves.

Leo is written as Donnie's go to person because, well, they're twins and I'm a sucker for that dynamic. It's also because due to the fanon of Leo being medic, I'd imagine he'd be the best suited for recognizing a meltdown or a lead up to one, and finding a solution to bring Donnie back to Earth. He is the face man after all, and you have to have that sort of skill when it comes to major meltdowns. Leo knows how to respond to Donnie when he's nonverbal, hurting himself, or just straight up crying because he knows people, and he knows his twin. So they have an established system of tools that they work with when Donnie is struggling.

Donnie is a cool and strong character, and I love how loved he is by the fandom! Getting to portray autism in a positive manner with him is amazing. I've received more than one comment saying that making Donnie have meltdowns is immature or stereotypical, but I think it's just real. That the way Donnie is canonically portrayed is a hundred percent a personality of someone with an I.D., but there is always room to expand on canon and this is my way of doing it.

Tl:Dr - TTATC Donnie canonically has meltdowns. Not panic attacks - though those will happen I assure you - but meltdowns, because he is autistic, and navigating the world with autism when the world you live in is not always user friendly kinda sucks sometimes, but that doesn't make it bad or childish to lose control

[endlesslake]

Garden of Eden

In the story of Adam and Eve God forbade them from eating the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil (or knowledge of everything), but never expressly explains why. The nature of knowledge itself is interesting, if we question what accumulated knowledge affords us, it is the ability to reshape existence. That is what we do, when we speak of creating, we actually mean reshaping. Painting is reshaping color pigments, music is reshaping sounds, architecture is reshaping matter, ect.

In truth it is what all of existence does: Rearrange itself, to shape and form solar systems, planets, mountains, oceans, life, ect. Evolution is also a form of this. We became the dominant species on this world by learning how to replicate that on a lesser scale. We accumulate knowledge through observation, analysis and comprehension. That information is stored in our memories, and passed on to others through books and lectures. Over time it is refined, and new forms of thinking come into play, and each step allows us to reshape things in new ways.

The more our knowledge grows, the more we are able to reshape things. At it's peak we would be able to reshape all that exists in all it's forms. Such a feat would be second only to creation. That is the true potential of our knowledge, and perhaps why Adam and Eve were warned against it.

Knowledge would have come alongside something else as well, that is awareness. Sentience, is the ability to directly perceive things through our senses, the sun is bright, the wind feels cold, ect. Awareness allows us to predict/anticipate situations beyond direct perception by understanding the situation itself. Ie. if a phone rings, you know someone is calling because you understand the functionality of a phone. Self-Awareness is the flipside, to see "yourself" as an separate from all else. A good example would be a baby. A newborn reacts to things in front of them, but once it is removed from their sight they do not seek it, they can not comprehend that it still exists beyond their direct perception. They do not yet have that understanding. As long as there was food, water and a safe place, this would be akin to paradise.

With awareness however comes a caveat. Fear tagged along for the ride. With only sentience (direct perception), fear would only exist within the moment and nowhere else. When a threat entered the perception range of the creature in question, they would feel fear which would direct them to escape, or hide, or prepare to defend themselves as danger approaches. But once a creature becomes aware of situations beyond their direct perception and understands it (awareness), fear becomes unrestrained. It can exist anywhere the mind can imagine, and unless it is held in check, it takes over. As we progress through life and accumulate more knowledge, the scope of our thoughts grow, and fear along with it. It is why children can seem so carefree, but adults seem so worried.

I liken this to the moment Adam and Eve ate the fruit of knowledge. AKA the point when our ancestors went from being sentient, to self aware. Yet knowledge without understanding is dangerous and without truly understanding what we possess, or what we have done, we can not manage what we have. In that way fear invaded the garden, paradise, and it was no longer so.

This of course raises an interesting question: Where exactly is the Garden of Eden? There is only one place fear can exists, within the confines of the mind, nowhere else. Therefor I surmise that is also the garden. It makes sense if you consider: All we "know" of existence, all we perceive of our surroundings goes through it. Everything gets filtered through our mind, and formed into our thoughts and perceptions. If so, perhaps if we did a little gardening round our thoughts, cleaned it up, acknowledged our fear, understood things, we might find paradise again.

[trustasset]

Download skype for mac 10.6 8

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 how to#

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 mac os x#

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 Patch#

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 plus#

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 plus#

The Resource targets the computer animation engine, but Adobe promises to add far more HTML5 functions like Canvas, HTML5 music online video tags plus much more.Īnd with Adobe Imaginative Sync, every minor thing is undoubtedly related throughout your desktop and cellular apps.Adobe Share Look through and permit many superior-top top quality pics, illustrations, and vector design right in Animate CC.

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 Patch#

No Flash needed objective of Adobe Animate CC Patch is to assist Qualified designers in making Cyberspace animations and sometimes pure video gaming.Īnimate is a part of Imaginative Cloud, meaning you could access your entire belongings such as Adobe Inventory ideal in the software and promptly flip any motivation into a splendid do the work of fine art.Īssistance Android, iOS, WebOS, BlackBerry PlayBook, IE, Safari, Chrome and Firefox9 and also other systems. Skype uses P2P (peer-to-peer) technology to connect you with other users. Skype is such a useful application by which you can remain in contact with your friends, office colleagues, business partners and customers all the time completely free.

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 mac os x#

Skype 10.6 Mac OS X AtĪny way around this I cannot upgrade my Mac OS X at this time to be able to run the latest version of Skype, which needs Mac OS X 10.9 or higher.Īpparently theyve already had a lot of protests - obviously I have not idea whether theres any chance of their being pressured to change their corporate minds.Īpple disclaims any and all liability for the acts, omissions and conduct of any third parties in connection with or related to your use of the site.Īll postings and use of the content on this site are subject to the. This is the closest I can find to the Uninstall option on windows. Perhaps some people can get by and ditch all that stuff.Then I searched for all skype related files and deleted them.

#Download skype for mac 10.6 8 how to#

Hangouts is better tech (I'm a longtime Google Voice user myself) but it doesn't help when the other guys aren't using it and I'm not about to spend hours of my time teaching someone else's sales/marketing person how to use the latest/greatest tech (which will probably be different in a year anyhow).Īdmittedly, my employer still maintains telephone numbers, a mailbox, and a fax number. Like you I don't run Skype unless we have a call planned beforehand. I suppose I deal with too many old timers and people from Asia in my work life where Skype remains the lowest common denominator. I usually have people trying to contact me to chat all day on Skype (complete strangers) so I don't turn it on unless the people on the other end schedule a call. Google Hangouts and FaceTime has replaced a lot of the communication that I usually need to do. like a lot of other people, Skype, like e-mail, has become irrelevant. I think the person who asked is saying that. Like any other productivity oriented app, Skype is a tool that serves audiences that need the service's robust flexibility.Īt this point, I suggest you visit the Skype website ( to learn more about its capabilities. Now if you have never left your province and you only communicate to Mum, Dad, your siblings, a few mates, and your boss at the fast food hamburger stand maybe you will not need Skype. It's not the most sophisticated way to contact another person online on this planet, but it is realistically one of the lowest common denominators, which makes it quite relevant. If you are not employed in position that requires you to communicate to foreigners or to business folk in general, it is possible that you may not have found much use for services such as Skype. It is heavily used for business and international communications where multiple users relying on a variety of systems need a common communications platform. In a way, it's the voice equivalent of e-mail. It's a multi-platform telecommunications service that - unlike FaceTime - covers a wide range of system configurations and devices.

[rainbowbarnacle]

Multiples of 5 for the ask game!

Ooh, oki: 5. TV show of the year: OWL HOUSE OWL HOUSE OWL HOUSE. The story, the voice acting, the art, the monsters, the magic system, EVERYTHING IS SO FREAKIN' COOL and it just keeps getting BETTER.

10. Something that made you cry this year: Video games make me cry this year, ahahah. Finishing the Endwalker expansion of ffxiv had me bawling pretty hard, but in a good way, and then I cried all over again watching Luka play it. X) Disco Elysium also had me crying in places. Some parts are so heart-wrenching and others are so gorgeous and some are so hilarious--you can't not bawl your face off.

15: What's a bad habit you picked up this year? I kinda stopped walking for a long while. A lot of it was CFS crap, but some of it was just being too miserable to. 20: What's something you learned this year? Honestly, the Dracula Daily tag clued me in on so much about the book and the time period that I had absolutely no idea about, and it was so much fun getting to have new context for things. 25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one: I have this half-formed character who likes to turn people (consensually) into living art via dimension twisting manipulations that shouldn't work but somehow do, so, like, yay this person's a living functional harp or that person's a home for sentient, moving tattoos kind of like a walking, breathing fish tank--stuff like that. And so one day our Artist finds some regular run-of-the-mill human and Enthralls them and goes on and on about what a pretty little canvas they are

but then it's revealed that they have a mansion full of similarly inspiring beings just kind of lounging around being idle because this is the equivalent of someone buying a bunch of really pretty art books/diaries and then never using them X) I imagine at some point some jaded person who's lived there awhile says something like, "Oh, they've been 'stuck' for almost ten years…"

[twinkrundgren]

my pros and cons of all these twitter alternatives

just a place to put my opinions on it as an artist

Tumblr: You're reading this here. I think, for the post part, tumblr is the platonic ideal of a good social media platform for artists.

Pros: Long posts, uncompressed images, tags that are not inhereted by reblogs/reposts, hidden follower count, disable comments/reblogs, robust blacklist system, chronological timeline, theme customization, easy to make sideblogs

Cons: community is insufferable sometimes, terfs, nazis and radfems get free reign, can get banned for insulting terfs or the staff, no NSFW, tag search is awful.

Conclusion: Our hellsite that sucks but it's home. Would be perfect if the NSFW ban was overturned and TERFs got their asses thrown out.

Mastodon:

Pros: Twitter-like but with longer posts, community owned and instanced, if you don't like the admins of any existing federation you can make your own. Can block interaction from entire federations if you don't like their userbase. Where a lot of journalists go.

Cons: Hugbox mentality of demanding you to hide anything that isn't happy, overuse of CWs that hide benign things from people when a blacklist function could serve the same function but better, CW + Hugbox mentality contributes to silencing minorities and especially black people from talking about their oppression. Smaller federations might have better moderation than larger ones but its very hard to interact with people outside of your federation, hard to understand for non techies. Moving from one federation to another isn't a thing.

Conclusion: Awful community mentality and it's very hard to get your posts out there. People there don't know how to curate their own feeds.

Inkblot:

Pros: Gallery site for artists, accounts for people who wish to browse, bans drawn cesm and bestiality, community owned, robust tagging system and blacklist system, small but dedicated community, owner honestly listens to criticisms, BIPOC owned, bans NFTs and AI generated art

Cons: Awful site layout based upon being a webapp and runs like dogshit on anything that isn't Chrome, will fail if community does not fund it, exploring new art is buggy and laggy.

Conclusion: Hopeful site for people who miss the days of Deviantart but unfortunately held back by awful site layout. Owner is pretty genuine and kind, but all might be for naught if it cannot get the funding it needs.

Cohost:

Pros: Tumblrlike, CSS in posts and a lot of freedom for interactivity. Hides follower count, tagging system, etc imagine Tumblr but better.

Cons: Hides all interactions on your post except comments, you can only view them from your notifications page. Seems catered towards people who want social media without anything that might cause "strife", CW system is a whitelist rather than a blacklist and inherits the same issues as Mastodon while giving few tools to actually curate your experience. May possibly unban drawn CESM in the future.

Conclusion: Hopeful tumblr-like that is held back by a heavy handed decision to take away all toys from you because someone else might get jealous and/or upset. Despite ideals of wanting to prevent discourse and arguing, wants to possibly allow CESM content on their site anyway. CW system is awful and backwards, hiding things by default when it should be the user's decision to want certain posts hidden for CW reasons. Almost no way to track where your posts goes, who interacts with it, or who even follows you. Feels like yelling into a void most of the time.

Itaku:

Pros: I think its like a booru or twitter? I'm not actually sure. Allows NSFW, blacklisting features, bans underage content

Cons: marks fat and muscular bodies as NSFW, no rules against bigotry, but "No politics!" type ruling. Condescending language towards kinks, bans photos of real people and real life NSFW

Conclusions: reeks of burned furs, do not trust.

Hive:

Pros: Twitter-like, honestly can't say much because it's iOS only.

Cons: iOS only, android app seems to be an afterthought, no web version.

Conclusions: Lol iOS app only.

[florafaunaandeldritchhorrors]

@juravern replied to your post

I’ve like never spoken to you before and also I haven’t rewatched AoU since I first saw it in the theatre but I don’t necessarily disagree with anything you said LOL. How they killed Jarvis off and didn’t even give Tony screentime on his feelings about that, I disliked it even back then when I couldn’t articulate what else I didn’t like about the whole movie.

I’m a simple person who has trouble pinpointing what I didn’t like in a movie if I just finished watching its cool action scenes XD, but I say that Infinity War was still okay compared to Endgame. Endgame truly sucked and I’d read you ranting about it if you wrote it.

they put what’s left of Jarvis into the Vision! and then never deal with that!

as for Endgame: you’re in luck, because I watched it for the first time last week, but also out of luck, because I really liked it! It helps that, because I was expecting to never watch it before that week, I didn’t avoid spoilers when it came out and was forewarned for most of the stuff that might have bothered me more (Natasha’s death and how badly all the Thor stuff punched down stand out). 

I wish I had been spoiled about Hawkeye, though. I’m sure someone else has written about the racial implications of his plotline before he rejoins the main storyline, as an Asian woman I’m too tired to explain why you can’t just have your white guy kill a bunch of unnamed people of color as an easily brushed past turn to the dark side. Also I’m pretty sure the yakuza don’t use samurai swords.

But, zooming out a little, I should probably talk about Infinity War first.

Infinity War is also a movie that I watched for the first time last week. I skipped it when it first came out because I correctly guessed that there were too many characters to do them all justice, and because usually I would see this sort of movie with my dad, who had trouble keeping the characters straight in Age of Ultron, and would be totally lost. He’s the reason why I finally watched both movies last week--he kept talking about how he wanted to watch WandaVision but needed to catch up first, and refused to let me spoil him on stuff, so we watched the movies and he finally learned about the Snap.

(I’m glad we waited, because throughout both movies I had to pause and explain stuff to him. And both of us despise people who talk at the theater.)

So: Infinity War is juggling way too many characters, and is basically wall-to-wall overstuffed action scenes. (Overstuffed action scenes are also a problem with Age of Ultron.) And then, at the end of the movie, they kill off every character they don’t have room for in Endgame, and it makes Endgame a much better movie.

There isn’t time in a movie like that to deal with Wanda’s guilt and grief, so she gets snapped, and that arc is left for WandaVision. Peter Parker can’t have a five year gap yet, so he gets snapped. T’Challa would want his story to be about Wakanda losing half of everybody, so he gets snapped. The Guardians of the Galaxy won’t mesh well with the Avengers unless they’re forced to, so everyone except Rocket and Nebula are snapped. Et cetera, et cetera. You can and probably should interrogate some of their choices, but the act of wiping the table clean is the best remedy for the problem where they’re expected to write a crossover including every living character.

Also, remember when I was talking about overstuffed action sequences? Endgame doesn’t have any of that until the very end of the movie. When it comes, it’s the most overstuffed action scene of all time, and there’s a lot of moments in that fight that just don’t work, but there’s like... two whole hours of not that. 

And then, on top of that, Endgame delivers on the nostalgia factor. The reason that I’m doing this rewatch is how much I enjoyed the time heist part of the movie. It made me want to watch the first Avengers, it made me want to watch Guardians of the Galaxy, it made me want to watch Thor: the Dark World, a movie which is not very good! I just watched it!

(Also ever since Guardians 2, I’ve loved Nebula as a character, and especially her relationship with Gamora. The fact that she was such a huge character in Endgame took me by surprise in the best way.)

Stuff I didn’t like: Traveling back to the forties is a really bad ending for Steve. By the time they were on that cliff, I wanted Clint to die so bad and the fact he didn’t still bugs me. You would think that all ten of the time heisters would be fleshed out, but for some reason Rhodey is noticeably missing a character arc. (Hint: it’s because he’s the only POC in that group.) It makes no sense for Pepper to wear a suit, it only happens because they were criticized for not having enough female heroes. 

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Anything for you

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Tags: hotch x oc, criminal Minds Imagine, aaron Hotchner x reader, hotch x reader, inter-office relationships, criminal minds, aaron hotchner x oc, penelope garcia, emily prentiss, jj, jennifer jareau, aaron hotchner, derek morgan, david rossi, spencer reid

WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of murder, torture, general criminal minds lingo

Summary: You're kidnapped during a case. Post-rescue fluffiness ensues.

word count: 2.8k+

The first time you're kidnapped on the job, you feel like no training has prepared you. 

It was a normal work day- the BAU had been sent to Saginaw, Michigan, and you had been working with Morgan to clear a hideout associated with a possible suspect. The unsub was targeting blonde females of short stature, and the team was aware that you and JJ both fit the victimology. Regardless, it wasn’t the first time someone on the team looked similar to their victims. 

Girls are being lured out of their cars by a wounded animal on the road, and snatched in late evening or early morning hours. The unsub had been profiled as someone withdrawn and non-confrontational, so every inch of that theory is invalidated when you’re taken in broad daylight.

 After clearing the house, you had made your way through a side gate in the backyard with intentions of talking to the neighbor while Morgan searched through personal items inside. 

And your last recollection before the pain started was hopping down the back porch steps. 

And fuck, did your head hurt when you slipped into awareness.

Once you regain some semblance of consciousness, you conclude the unsub must have fled into the neighbor’s yard from his hideout and panicked when you unknowingly followed.

 Hence, the current predicament. Spread out on what you’re trying not to imagine as medieval torture device, the unsub has your arms bound high above your head. Your feet barely brush the ground, and the muscles in your shoulders scream with every move. You try to negotiate with your captor, though the words only exchange for a few moments before he plunges a needle into the thick muscles of your thigh.

 A cool rush floods through your veins shortly thereafter, and your limbs feel heavier by the second. Your eyesight blurs without contacts or glasses and dry mouth creeps up from whatever drug is flaring in your system.

Thoughts of the team invade logical thought, trying to drown out the haunting images your brain is interpreting from your squinting eyes. 

A hooded figure with an oddly deep voice comes into the room and photographs you at regular intervals . He takes more items of clothing each time, sometimes ripping and other times taking a whole article. If you were in your right mind, you would have caught on to the child-like nature and tantrums when your subdued body can’t coordinate with his movements.

“What’s your name?”

You blink slowly, awakening to a dark room. Your arms are sore, and your shoulders still ache. The toes of your boots brush what looks to be an old wood floor, though you are  unsure due to the lack of visual acuity. An attempt to lift your head fails, and it instead droops until your chin hits your chest.

A limb shoots towards you, and instinct forces you to jerk. Rough fingers brush your reddened cheeks as the gag is taken from your mouth. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“S-scare..?” You  squint, but only the shadow cast by his hood is visible. “W-where am I?”

A childlike giggle.

 “At my house. My Momma said we could have a sleepover.”

Even in a delusional and dazed, you’re able to feel the shiver down your spine. 

“A sleepover?”

FLASH. 

The sound of a camera shutter corrupted the functioning state you had started to develop, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but nothing in your brain could pull together enough info to react. 

“You’re beautiful… just stay right there, I’m gonna take more.

- - -

“He’s not smart. In fact, disorganized to the point where he can’t even keep up.”

Aaron Hotchner sits across the table from Rossi, who is trying to explain their newest theory to the local police chief. With you taken, everyone’s nerves are on edge, and Hotch finds himself tasked with keeping his emotions under control.

It was exactly why workplace relationships- even those based in casual sex and physical comfort- were not allowed. 

Additionally, it wasn’t as if members of the team hadn’t been kidnapped or put in danger before. Despite this, Hotch's mind is racing, trying to discern the best way to track an unsub who was so unorganized he didn’t even know what to do next. They got lucky discovering the first abandoned house Morgan and yourself had raided, but Hotch wasn’t sure they’d get that lucky again.

“We thought he was withdrawn, but maybe he’s escalating?” Reid suggested. It had been over twelve hours since the abduction of their teammate, and they were all pouring over case files in the station’s conference room. 

Hotch stared down at crime scene photos, including the ones from where you were taken. Prentiss is doing the same, and lifts her head at Spencer’s remark.

“What if she scared him?” Emily offers, “There’s a chance he was just trying to flee and got cornered. It would maintain the withdrawn nature.”

“He took her in the middle of broad daylight.” Morgan contradicts, obviously feeling a bit guilty as he was your partner when the kidnapping occurred. “Into the woods, and away he went.”

Reid closes the folder in his hand. “Actually, it is a good theory. She has specialized training in hand-to-hand combat, it would be very hard to subdue her quietly. If the unsub is withdrawn and scared, he might have come from behind once he realized there was no way out.”

Chief Ballard of the local department speaks up. “She’s a fairly small woman, even with specialized combat it’s hard to fight back if you take a surprise blow to the head.”

  Hotch looked up. He had sparred with you on many occasions in the gym, and knew firsthand the amount of tricks used to fend off larger attackers. However, an ambush and a good enough blow would render even himself unconscious.

“She could do it if given the opportunity. Between her hand-to-hand and her gun, there should have been some struggle. Though as Reid said, it doesn’t appear she had that chance.” Hotch concludes. 

“That could be indicative of someone lying in wait, or someone scared to show their face.” JJ says, “It really doesn’t allow us a good lead either way.”

“Damn.” Hotch grinds his teeth, nerves getting the best of him once again. “You did a cognitive interview?”

“At the scene. I had-”

A knock from the room’s entrance makes them all  jump, and an officer steps in the doorway. His eyes turn to Hotch. “Sir, there’s a woman on the phone for your team.”

Reid stands, moving towards the speaker setup in the corner of the room. “I called Garcia a little while ago, that’s probably her.”

The phone line crackles to life when Spencer picks up. “Hey, Garcia.”

“...S-Spence?”

Hotch’s blood runs cold, and he shoots to his feet. The team allows him the next move, murmuring your name as he approaches the receiver.

“Aaron… hey.” Your speech is slow and slurred, but it’s a clear sign of life.

“Where are you? Are you with the unsub?” Hotch feels the team’s eyes on him, but all that matters in the moment is the sound of your voice. 

“N-No. I-I’m with my friend Jake. He wants to have a sleepover, is that okay with you?”

Rossi makes brief eye contact with Hotch, who nodded his head in silent agreement of how to play out the call. 

Hotch takes it upon himself to answer and softens his tone.  “You know honey, I just need to know what house Jake is in. Do you remember?”

A breathy laugh came through the background of the call, and Hotch assumed it was ‘Jake’ listening in. Your heavy breathing is the dominant noise, and it takes a minute for an answer. 

“Y-yeah. Next door to the Youngs in a r-really pretty old house.” 

Rossi taps the mute button in a flash of tanned fingers. “Our unsub has reverted to a childlike state. If he’s letting her make phone calls-”

“She’s gained his trust.” Hotch finishes, finally feeling like they’re on the same page. 

“Smart girl. I’m calling Garcia to find a list of people with the last name Young in the area.” Morgan already had his phone to his ear.

“Those who live next door to old houses.” Hotch added. 

“Did you notice the way she said ‘really pretty’?” Rossi rubbed his chin. “With the emphasis on ‘pretty’? Is she trying to appease him?”

“Morgan, narrow that down to Youngs who live next door to abandoned or condemned establishments.” 

Hotch opens the line, your name sliding from his lips in that honey-soaked tone he usually reserves for early mornings and late nights in.

“Aaron?” Your words are still slow, though relatively coherent. 

“I think a sleepover is a great idea.” He swallows the lump in his throat, “We’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“T-Thanks, it’s gonna be fun.”

The line goes dead after, and Hotch drags in a deep breath. 

“There’s only one place in the area with those parameters.” Morgan shoves his phone into his pocket as the team stands.

“Let’s go.”

You’ve been lowered to sit, but your hands are still suspended, fingers tingling with numbness. The unsub, or rather, Jake, as he told you to call him, is sitting with legs crossed underneath him a few feet away. There is a lop-sided grin on his face, and his child-like excitement is palpable. 

“Do you wanna play a game?” He asks eagerly. 

You manage to lift your head, filled with some hope after Jake’s strange allowance of a phone call a few minutes prior. While he might have killed two girls already, they were held for over 48 hours before Jake snapped. You are lucky enough to understand his mindset and play into it, even through whatever drug has been pushed into your system every few hours. The best guess you can muster was that the other girls were unable to deal with the strange kidnapper, and something they said or did broke his facade and led to murder. It was vague and unclear, but all you had. 

“What kind of game?” You ask through a shiver. The tremors never seem to end. 

“Tag.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

Jake opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of stairs creaking. He freezes, turning towards the broken and sideways hanging bedroom door. 

“Jake, hey.”

You pray the sounds are the rest of your team, but want to keep his attention away if it is. 

“Yes?” His boyish gaze falls back to you. 

“What about I Spy?”

  Jake breaks out into a smile. “That’s a great idea! I just gotta do your medicine first.”

The man, who you now recognize as a white male in his late twenties with blonde hair and a pudgy face, drew another syringe out of his pocket and plunged it into your thigh. If your counting is still correct, it would be the sixth injection. 

“Jake... “ You inhale as the freeze begins to spread, “I spy something… white.”

Eyes wide, they scour the room for your challenge. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you blink as the door moves ever so slightly. It’s slow, until a creak echoes through the empty room. Jake whirls around, coming face-to-face with Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss holding him at gunpoint. 

“Who are you?” He demands, scrambling to his feet. “Why are you at my sleepover?”

You sag with relief, shoulders hanging heavily on their bounds. “J-jake, they’re my friends.”

“Friends don’t point guns!” 

Jake rockets towards the left, where your pistol, badge, and shoes are discarded, Prentiss sees his motivation, and a gunshot echoes through the room. The man cries out, and your pounding head flinches away from the noise. 

“Stay on the ground!” Emily keeps her gun on him, and you druggedly take note of the wound in his leg as opposed to center mass. 

JJ moves to kneel in front of you. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

You fight the new sedation as best you can. “J-J?”

“I’ve got you.”

The other blonde turns, yelling towards the door that they were clear and needed help. Morgan appears in the doorway, rushing in to assist JJ. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants pocket, slicing the rope and cable ties binding your arms. Your exhausted body slumps into his chest, clinging to his shirt. You notice the purple tint to her hands, and hope it isn’t a bad sign. 

“You with me?” Morgan’s deep voice made you lift your head, unfocused eyes searching his face. 

“You found me…” 

“Yeah we did. You’re a smart cookie, gorgeous.”

You huff a laugh against his neck and suddenly take note of bright lights against your eyelids. Upon further inspection, you deduce it to be the sun. Morgan must have carried you all the way out.

“T-That’s bright.” You murmur, trying to shelter your eyes as Morgan lowers you to the grass.

“Medical is on their way. Where’s Hotch?”

The voices blend together for a few minutes, and you  focus on breathing in. Another presence  approaches and kneels down, surrounding you with a musky cologne and blanket of safety. A familiar hand rests on your cheek, and you blink up at his face.

Aaron Hotchner stares back at you, and a wave of emotion breaks through the drugs. “Aaron…” 

“I’m right here. You did good work today.” 

You take a moment to gaze at his familiar features. Dark hair, dark eyes. He’s kneeling beside you, but the size of his frame is still imposing. Against your will, you feel your throat tighten and eyes swell to accommodate tears. One hand extends towards him. 

“I need…” You pause, trying to collect yourself. “Hotch- please.”

Hotchner doesn’t answer her, only draws you against his chest. Your arms lift to wrap around his neck, face hiding against the sun-warmed skin of his neck. Despite the ache it causes to rake across his shoulders, Aaron remains wrapped in your embrace as your body begins to shake. You smell of sweat and captivity, remnants of the ordeal you’d just been through. The clothes you wore were the same Aaron had seen you in last, though there were small holes scattered about your black trousers. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmurs against  greasy hair, gripping the back of your skull with his hand. “I should have-”

You lift her head at his tone and point a wavering finger. “No, d-don’t blame yourself.”

The cloudy haze of pharmaceuticals is creeping into your eyes as you chastise him. “I know how you are… Aaron, y-you’ll beat yourself up.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s just get you to the hospital, alright?”

Hotch picks you up with little effort, strolling towards the ambulance and stretcher where it was waiting. “...N-No. I’m alright.”

Once you’re placed on the stretcher, the arguing starts weakly and you’re swaying like a daisy in the wind. Hands still fisted in Hotch’s vest hold him in place beside you. 

“We need to find out what you were given. Do the tests, and I’ll be satisfied.” Hotch orders, hand on your wrist rubbing gentle circles. “JJ can go with you.”

The blonde steps up beside their boss, soft smile on her face as she wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

“No… I don’t-” You pause and swallow, panic rising as Hotchner attempts to step back

Your fingers tremble against Hotch’s torso where they’re wrapped in his shirt, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes. Of all the years Hotch had known you on the BAU, he has never seen you so upset. You’re all trained to deal with these types of things, but nothing prepares you for the actual thing. Especially when you’re being pumped full of illicit drugs to keep you sedate. 

JJ rubbed your back, eyes lifting to Hotch. “You know boss, Morgan and I can handle the clean up and reports. You’re gonna have enough paperwork as it is.”

Thank God  for Jennifer Jareau.

Hotchner stares at the two women before dipping his head in a nod. “Alright. We’ll meet you back at the station as soon as possible.”

“Sounds great.” JJ turns on her heel and bustles off towards a group of local detectives and beat cops.

The medics were prepping the gurney to go up, carefully arranging your loose limbs on the cushion. Hotch watches in amusement, as you’re looking more stoned by the second.

“Sir, are you coming?” One of the medics asks, motioning to the back of the rig. 

“Yes, sorry.” Hotchner pulls himself into the back of the ambulance, accepting the hand you hold out to him. 

“Thanks for comin’, boss.” You tug his hand close, lips brushing against his knuckles. His body was warm, and you stretched towards it. 

Aaron leans in before the paramedics begin bustling to press a kiss against your forehead. “Anything for you.”

---

Criminal Minds Masterlist || Send me ideas