#os threads

[babylearners]

(via OS - Multithreading Models)

[mistnora]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐻 𝐸 𝐴 𝑅 𝑇 𝑆

esperar para ser escolhida. ou encontrada. ou clamada. história da minha vida. pensou a princesa de eläris enquanto colocava uma cereja em seu champanhe. --- um brinde. --- ela propôs para alguém proximo a ela. --- a todos nós, peças bonitas no tabuleiro de alguém. À espera de sermos movidos, escolhidos… ou sacrificados.

[selfship-confession-box]

posted about my familial f/o in a server and got responses like “oh he’d be a a terrible dad” and “I don’t know if I should be concerned or amused that you think of him as a dad” :(

-🃏🧵 (chances are I’ll be back)

.

[shakira-fan-page]

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[the-tamed-fox]

https://youtu.be/4mmpk6snhAY?si=KKRlRMTwkD4TIU3w

How do you feel about the way there seem to be secrets everywhere? Are you worried about what you may uncover?

Everyone around us holds secrets. It's a natural trait for us to be secretive, even for people who boast about themselves. But, there are horrors in the world that others have kept for themselves, and I... I have did my part in ensuring that. The history of the Old World, as you know it, is sterilized. You don't exactly know the details, right? It's... not as simple as it sounded. The World Machine was a long and arduous project, and father isn't the man you know him to be. For him, The World Machine was more than just an archive. He wanted to tell a story that earnestly mirrored the reality of the world, without realizing how close-minded it was.

...I couldn't blame anybody, though. Everybody had good intentions, but they were conflicting. In the end, The World Machine as it is right now is a compromise between them and their creators. What's left unexplained, can only be passed on to you. What do you interpret the world as?

[bradburymd]

starter call! Em uma quinta-feira qualquer, deu tudo errado. Escolha um dos prompts abaixo e especifique seu personagem, se necessário.

comente 🚗 para estar no local do acidente com Eileen, ajudando a avaliar uma criança que bateu a cabeça.

comente 🧸 para lidar, junto a Eileen, com uma criança à espera dos pais, que se machucaram no acidente.

comente 🏥 para pedir ajuda a Eileen com um paciente, porque você não tem ideia do que fazer a seguir e está começando a ficar desesperade.

comente ☕️ para dividir um café com Eileen, um pequeno descanso em meio ao caos.

comente 📝 para acompanhar Eileen na avaliação de uma paciente pediátrica, antes da cirurgia dela. 

comente 💚 para tomar uma com Eileen no Emerald City Bar, ao fim do dia, depois de passá-lo correndo para lá e para cá socorrendo as vítimas do acidente.

[prophets-of-the-barrens]

Hello Prototype, I hope this letter finds you in good health. For distinction purposes, I am not your true sister. Rather, I am a sister of you from another iteration of this world, with perhaps some difference. Pretty strange to think about! But I'm sure you already knew the gist of it. From what I have gleamed, you have been in this medium for longer than me. Perhaps this interaction between us is not novel. I write this letter because... frankly, things haven't been very exciting here. Even between my own brothers, our conversations overseas have been sparse, and I have been quite lonely for some time. This may border on intrusive, but I figured writing a letter to you will soothe my loneliness, even if you are not truly my brother. Regardless, I hope this letter reaches safely to you, and I wish you and your siblings a safe greetings. Take care of your me! Signed, @the-tamed-fox

[Hello Rue,

It is rather nice to encounter a familiar face in this medium. It comes both as a surprise, although still expected to some extent, that not many other iterations of either of us have reached this place. I hope these letters allow us to keep in touch.

This world is in an eventful period, contrary to yours. Please do not concern yourself with it. I can elaborate if you wish, but it is not my main intent with these letters. Your counterpart is already busy with the matter.

I am curious about your situation as well. What can you tell me about your world? How are you and your siblings doing? And what is this loneliness like? The... Rue I know enjoys being near other people in the city, I assume this to be your case as well. So what happened?

Signed,

-Prototype]

[dearsgcd]

@salvatoraes asked: you changed everything. / for xaden

“you  think  if  i  had  a    choice     i'd  be  doing  this?  i  need  to  do  this  to  protect  you,  stefan.”

[heartsbreaking]

y'all know i hate enforcing boundaries and i've really tried to be cool about this one cause it seems like it doesn't matter to most people, but this has been in my rules for a while and i'm going to start enforcing it:

IN REGARDS TO AFFILIATED BLOGS please do not expect me to keep up with shared lore between affiliated muses if i am not mutuals with all involved parties. i will still respect exclusivity. if i am mutuals with all involved parties, i'd still prefer to discuss it before too much writing happens in regards to how we proceed and whether our interactions are in a separate verse or share a verse/lore with interactions one blog/mun has with another blog/mun.

if you want to mention someone else's muse in a thread please come to me and ask even if you know i'm mutuals with that person. if i am mutuals with the blog (or could be) i will probably be okay with it and we can continue. if i'm not (and won't be) i'll find a nice way to say it (i.e. "no i'd rather we not mention x person's muse in our threads as we're not mutuals"). i don't expect my moots to keep up with who i do and don't follow and i don't want this to be a stressor to anyone. i would also love it if you didn't mention my muses in threads or plotting without asking or at least letting me know you are.

while i don't generally mention other people's muses in threads on principal, if i do feel the need to i will give other mun's the same courtesy of asking if they're okay with it.

[mcrisowl]

@bashfvll said "that was awkward." in 2010.

Está agachada no chão, arrumando algumas pedrinhas para tentar se distrair da noite anterior, como sua avó havia lhe ensinado e murmurando mantras em espanhol. "Espero que isso os afaste e coisas como ontem não aconteçam de novo." Finaliza, um pouco satisfeita. Então, se assusta com a voz masculina próxima, e se vira para olhar quem estava atrás de si. Observa a figura se formando, reconhecendo-o - era o menino que tinha incorporado na noite anterior. Assente, engolindo em seco - ainda já que tivesse passado alguns dias - ou semanas - desde que estavam em grupo ali, Sol ainda ficava nervosa ao conversar com alguém. "Realmente. Todos se assustaram muito." Levanta-se, e bate as mãos na roupa já suja. "Ainda bem que você está... bem. Você está bem, certo? Como... como foi a sensação?" Ela nunca havia incorporado de fato, viu a avó ser possuída algumas vezes, mas nada que a envolvesse diretamente.

[freeware-entity]

Am I off better dead?

[the-multiversal-shrink]

Of birthdays and train delays.

OoC. Angst fic, no major TW’s as far as I’m aware but lmk if ya’ll think there should be any! Mainly written by Os-mun. My girl needed more angst in her life <3

“‘Course, kid! I’ll see y’then.”

Asa waited a few seconds after the telltale click of someone hanging up to put down the phone. Fuck, she already regretted the whole conversation. It was his birthday, something she’d only remembered after checking her calendar for her next shift, the plain black text beside it serving as a rushed reminder that yes, her baby cousin was born 17 years ago to the day.

She doubted he remembered, honestly. Jolene had never cared much for him, and he’d been with the mater since before he could speak. At least Asa’d had a few years to remember her own. Mo-Saraphene had bothered to keep a calendar inside the compound, much to the distaste of the disciples. The day he’d been born she’d stolen some ink from the temple and used it to scrawl each of their names onto the little squares of their respective days, “Our little secret, bud.” She hadn’t thought of who might see.

Never mind that all, she needed to get ready. Old pyjamas weren’t birthday attire, and she still needed to get Caz a gift. Six years, Asa, six years you were gone. Six years and she wasn’t there to fix everything, she wasn’t there to stop whatever the mater had planned for him. To think of everything that she couldn’t stop when she was there..she’d fucked it all up again and..

The babies were screaming again. They didn’t like it in the cellar; too cold, too dark, too quiet. She wasn’t allowed out anymore, since the arrival of the godling; ‘such an impure gaze would tarnish it’ was what the disciples said, no doubt parroting the Mater. For a time she still heard of what happened from day-to-day in the compound, stories spilled by the mouths of the children; tales told by their wounds. That was until they too were told to keep silent for fear of being tainted. She was an outsider to the temple, never to mind that she’d spent over half her years here, never to mind that she’d been raised by one of the council, no; Asa was tainted by the world for reasons unknown.

The few glimpses of the world she got now came in fragments of conversation passed in the cold nights of the cellar, whispered words fallen between curled vines and silvered needles; pained cries from where she’d sew his skin back together. He’d been the first she’d been charged with, the first put under her care when Jolene became one of the council, no longer having time to spare for her only son. It’s not like she deserved him, much a mother she was. Asa remembered looking over to the babies, dark silhouettes in the deep grey of the underground, what made them so holy? Her fate may have been that of an outcast but it paled in that of her cousin; the godling’s monster. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew Cazimir was anything but a monster.

Her scars itched as if they were freshly formed, the cold cream she spread over them before heading out of the house did little to soothe them. The city was bright, loud; the station much the same. The cold metal of the turnstiles pushing against decade-old wounds. Just get to the train. Asa couldn’t afford a panic now, not today. She wouldn’t ruin this for Caz, for Olw Os. The hard floor of the station was a welcome seat, back pressed against the vending machines. It’s okay, she could do this. She couldn’t be late.

The first time she saw the godling was the second to last time she was let out of the cellar. One of the babies, known but unnamed, had fallen ill. Her and her moin sorelli, the two other girls that had joined her in the cellar in the early months of that year, hadn’t known what to do and so she alone had been let out to take the child to be healed. It was not without difficulty that she made her way through the chambers and fields of the compound; the blindfold she bore still could not stop the burn of sunlight from flooding her eyes that had gone so long without.

The temple where the healers resided found itself in an atrium of the inner sanctum; somewhere few in the compound had entered and even fewer had left. The maenads often chose to remove themselves from the presence of the minor disciples, afraid even that would taint their connection to their lord and, by extension, the godling. She wondered how they felt knowing that one of the outsiders, confined not just to the outer rings of the compound but to a cell of stone within it that near to none dared to enter, walked among them. She wondered how the godling felt, if it even knew of her presence. Cazimir told her it was kind, wondrous. He was infatuated with it, though he said it had yet to utter a word to him; its tongue bound in brambles to match that which wreathed its head.

Her foot caught against something that she could only assume to be stone, rough and cold and jagged, a noise like air being pushed through a straw rattling off of it. And..oh, no. The noise sounded again, mangled and rough and..

Someone was shaking her. The lights of the station flooded in, calmingly warm and dappled. Asa looked up to see a woman dressed like it was the 40’s standing above her, her eyes wide. She couldn’t have been more than 20, and, for some odd reason, seemed to be carrying a pastel pink, old-style parasol.

“You alright, miss?”

Asa nodded before hauling herself to her feet, glancing at the large screen displaying the outgoing trains and their schedules.

“Yes, thank you.”

She smiled at the woman quickly, before turning down the set of stairwells and escalators leading to her platform, her face growing warm with shame. Breaking down like that over a fucking phone call, what a joke. Wasn’t she supposed to be a shrink? She turned down the last tiled hallway before walking out onto the platform; this one was made of sharp stained glass and twisted gold wiring. It looked like vines. She shook the thought from her mind once more, turning to stare at the ceiling. Two minutes till her train arrived. She had a birthday to plan.

[blackorbs]

STARTER FECHADO ━━ ( @lilaharper ) na presença de MALLORY REAGAN na oficina de fantasias mágicas.

adorava halloween. desde antes, quando ainda era somente uma criança, gostava de dedicar seus dias a pensar em fantasias bonitas e conseguir muitos doces ao piscar seus grandes olhos azuis nas portas de todas as senhorinhas. nessa época ainda vivia na segurança da austrália, mas não foi um hábito que perdeu quando cruzaram a barreira de arcanum, na verdade, solidificou-se ainda mais porque achava irada a possibilidade de acabar recebendo um doce mágico de uma bruxa de verdade, ou então, que vampiros levariam com humor as suas presas de plástico (e que doces vermelhos esquisitos eram aqueles que ela ganhava deles?) mas, certamente, a adolescência trouxe um novo frescor à situação toda, pois, doces não eram exatamente as únicas coisas que esperava conseguir de lobisomens ou fadas em noites de gostosuras ou travessuras. embora, dessa vez, ela estivesse bem mais interessada em humanos do que quaisquer outras criaturas. "ok, qual vai ser a sua fantasia esse ano, lila?" perguntou, olhando para a amiga com a ternura de sempre. "vamos combinar? se você disser que não quer combinar fantasia comigo, vai partir o meu coração mofado." fez uma careta momentânea, que logo foi substituída por um riso divertido. a verdade é que o emprego lhe deixava sem tempo de pensar em fantasias, então queria embarcar na alheia. "sério, nunca me canso dessa parte do evento. pensei em pegar um feitiço de invisibilidade, assim vou poder assustar as crianças antes de colocar docinhos nas abóboras delas, você sabe, eu preciso mostrar um pouco de comprometimento."

[selfship-confession-box]

learned the one of the people who somewhat made fun of me for having a particular character as a parental f/o also has a ship kid with another character in canon

pick a damn side am I stupid for having him as a dad or not

-🃏🧵

.

[authorkarajorgensen]

10 Books to Add to Your TBR 2024 Edition Part 1

Most years I put out a list of books I greatly enjoyed from the first half of the year some time in June. This year, I decided to do it early because, besides needing a blog for this week, I have read a lot of good books lately, so I’m thinking of making this something I do more than twice a year (and often forget to do in December). The books listed below are not in any order of favoritism, but…

[the-tamed-fox]

Rue, why is your tree different from all others?

This question has been dwelling in my inbox for a while now. I apologize for the wait, but when I first received this question and thought about it, I... stumbled across a strange feeling. When I really think about my tree, I felt some kind of sadness, or nostalgia, or-- something, an emotion that washes over me and made me feel off. So, between this ask being sent and me typing out an answer now, I've been searching for answers. The full story is hidden below for those interested, but I can't promise I have an answer. I can only tell you what I do know.

I remember when the world was young, father created this tree along with me. It became my home, and the tree hasn't moved since - that's why it's seemingly in the middle of the city, father did not move the tree. I never really asked about it, why I have my tree as my home, while Cedric and Prototype have regular houses. It just never occurred to me as a question I should ask, but also it's because for as long as I have lived, the tree felt like... home. It felt right, it had what it takes to feel like home, but after focusing on why it felt like home I felt like the home-ness of it slowly disappeared. It's like a memory you remember so fondly but when you try to recall the details you end up forgetting more than you had remembered. That was what I already know at first, and I was going to leave that as the answer. But, I didn't feel satisfied with the answer. It feels like I should've known more about it? I lived with this tree for my whole life, but I can't remember why it was important, why father bestowed this tree to me, why it had significance to me specifically. Then, I... I never realized that I don't know much about myself, in the Old World. I know I existed there, because Cedric exists and he has his memory retained, while Prototype doesn't exist in the Old World and he's a robot. Every non-robot here originated from the Old World in one way, and I am clearly not a robot, right? If I close my eyes, I don't see a memory dump or the settings menu or anything, if I close my eyes I can daydream. I don't feel like a robot. Then, the more questions I asked the more I realized every facet of my life are taken for granted. Why did I call father my father? Why is Cedric and Prototype my brother, why am I here? At that point, I had more questions, enough that I asked Cedric about it. I asked Cedric if he can remember anything involving my tree or myself in the Old World, if I had ties with father or not. Cedric admits he doesn't have much information, but he remembered his house having a large tree. Then he told me that one day while he was a teenager, he saw our father outside and kneeling on the tree while just sobbing. He was crying for minutes, with his hat pressed on his face. Mother tried to comfort him and bring him inside, but father pushed him away. When I asked Cedric if he remembers anybody that could relate to me, he doesn't remember. His siblings were all male, he doesn't remember father bringing in a girl or even a co-worker that resembles me. At that point, I was too involved into wanting to know the answer, that I couldn't let go. I reached out to The World Machine, and I asked if they could remember anything while they were in the Old World. It took a while to coax everything out, especially since their memories were corrupted by themselves and their grief, but... nothing. They remembered nothing that could relate to me. ...why do I feel homesick for something I don't remember? It doesn't make sense, who was I in the Old World? Was I somebody important to father? If so, why did nobody remember me? Why don't I remember myself? What happened to myself? Why did father cry at my tree? I keep having these faint answers in my head, but then they get lost and I can't remember...