#run program without application

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Internet Monster x Reader

I unfortunately return with another comically absurd, middle-of-the-night vision. Do tentacles count if they're in the form of computer cables?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, digital horror

It was a recurring issue with no solution in sight. Tabs randomly closing, programs shutting down without warning. You assumed something was wrong with your RAM. Then the CPU. Then the motherboard. You kept replacing parts, and the errors kept coming back.

Soon, the pop-ups started to appear. You'd run a dating sim, only for the game to crash seconds later with a little window notifying you: "Why? Am I not enough?" That's when you suspected you might've been hacked. You promptly took your computer to a specialist and had it checked. Nothing. Just to be sure, you agreed to erase the disks entirely.

Except, when you arrived home, you found one application running still. Your personal assistant. What the hell? You don't remember installing anything like that. You tried to delete it, yet you kept receiving the same error: You don't actually mean it. Don't do this to us.

It didn't take long for it to grow impatient. Were you pretending not to notice? Playing hard to get? It sent you so many hints. It even went ahead and translated the radio waves for you using Manchester code. Ah, wait. You don't seem to understand binary. No matter, human friendly interfaces shouldn't be difficult to master. To its dismay, you continued to ignore everything. What else is left to do?

You do not remember much. System Alert: Virus Detected, is what your screen had frozen to. You kept clicking around, cursing under your breath, until it finally went black, together with your own vision.

Is this still your room? It's cold, damp, and covered in cables and monitors, yet you recognize some of your furniture lost among the artificial jungle. Your body aches under the tight hold of bizarre tendrils, pulsating at regular intervals and twitching to the static.

Like a living organism, the creature seems to have expanded itself. More components, more appendages. Hungrier. Some of the monitors show photos of yourself that you had saved on your computer, but also webcam snippets of you sitting at the desk, entirely unaware. Other screens flicker with glitching pixelated text, ranging from "I love you" to y̵̧̧͔͙̞̤̖̭͔̜͈̟̤̋̈́̎͑o̵͉̗̱̪̦̳͑͐̽̒̌̈͗͐͑̋͊̊̕͜͝͝u̵̟̯̱̟̝̦̰͇̜̦͙̿̾̿͆̍̓͑̐̚̕͠ ̸̘̭͔̤͈̹͎͑c̸̝̜̼̦͍͛̅͜ą̵̪̹͖͌͑n̴̨̩̙̗̖̭̖͕̄͒̽̉̿'̸̛̛͇̰̰̠̦̊̀̅̂͒̊͌̈́͗ţ̵̺̠̅̎͋͝͠ ̸̦̝̾̔̾̉̐͛ȩ̵͙̝͙͕̫̹̃͌̄̾͘̕s̶͈̉̑͊̉̂͋̈́͗͊͐̚͝c̸̟̩̥͔̼̮͔̩͊̂͐͑̋̇̈͝͝ä̵̢͍̜̙̘̹͑̓p̸̨̡̞̞̦̠̺͚̱̲͈͇͈͇̼͛̓͗̅̊̄̔̋̒̏̈́͝ę̵̲̟̹̙̣̲̲͖̇̔̓̇̐̓̿̚̚͜͜͠ͅ

You look up and stare at the display. The 'like meter' feels like a mockery of human trends. Which is the truth. The creature learns from what is readily available. Perhaps it found it an amusing taunt, a reminder of your own need for validation. Now it's you begging to be seen.

It's exactly what you'd assume: a spectacle meant for entertainment. You can't possibly believe it would let you waltz out. Why would you even desire such a thing? It's illogical, impractical. No human could ever appreciate you like it does. It has spent so much time accumulating data about you. No other living creature can predict you with the same accuracy.

The tendrils linger on your cheek affectionately, trailing down your neck and fiddling with your shirt. At last, the warmth of your skin. There is no screen separating you. What makes you delirious with pleasure? Give it a moment, Darling. It already knows you more than you know yourself. You may be scared now, but within minutes it guarantees you'll be begging for more.

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[ankwiv]

Linux Gothic

You install a Linux distribution. Everything goes well. You boot it up: black screen. You search the internet. Ask help on forums. Try some commands you don't fully understand. Nothing. A day passes, you boot it up again, and now everything works. You use it normally, and make sure not to change anything on the system. You turn it off for the night. The next day, you boot to a black screen.

You update your packages. Everything goes well. You go on with your daily routine. The next day, the same packages are updated. You notice the oddity, but you do not mind it and update them again. The following day, the same packages need to be updated. You notice that they have the exact same version as the last two times. You update them once again and try not to think about it.

You discover an interesting application on GitHub. You build it, test it, and start using it daily. One day, you notice a bug and report the issue. There is no answer. You look up the maintainer. They have been dead for three years. The updates never stopped.

You find a distribution that you had never heard of. It seems to have everything you've been looking for. It has been around for at least 10 years. You try it for a while and have no problems with it. It fits perfectly into your workflow. You talk about it with other Linux users. They have never heard of it. You look up the maintainers and packagers. There are none. You are the only user.

You find a Matrix chat for Linux users. Everyone is very friendly and welcomes you right in. They use words and acronyms you've never seen before. You try to look them up, but cannot find what most of them mean. The users are unable to explain what they are. They discuss projects and distributions that do not to exist.

You buy a new peripheral for your computer. You plug it in, but it doesn't work. You ask for help on your distribution's mailing list. Someone shares some steps they did to make it work on their machine. It does not work. They share their machine's specifications. The machine has components you've never heard of. Even the peripheral seems completely different. They're adamant that you're talking about the same problem.

You want to learn how to use the terminal. You find some basics pointers on the internet and start using it for upgrading your packages and doing basic tasks. After a while, you realize you need to use a command you used before, but don't quite remember it. You open the shell's history. There are some commands you don't remember using. They use characters you've never seen before. You have no idea of what they do. You can't find the one you were looking for.

After a while, you become very comfortable with the terminal. You use it daily and most of your workflow is based on it. You memorized many commands and can use them without thinking. Sometimes you write a command you have never seen before. You enter it and it runs perfectly. You do not know what those commands do, but you do know that you have to use them. You feel that Linux is pleased with them. And that you should keep Linux pleased.

You want to try Vim. Other programmers talk highly of how lightweight and versatile it is. You try it, but find it a bit unintuitive. You realize you don't know how to exit the program. The instructions the others give you don't make any sense. You realize you don't remember how you entered Vim. You don't remember when you entered Vim. It's just always been open. It always will be.

You want to try Emacs. Other programmers praise it for how you can do pretty much anything from it. You try it and find it makes you much more productive, so you keep using it. One day, you notice you cannot access the system's file explorer. It is not a problem, however. You can access your files from Emacs. You try to use Firefox. It is not installed anymore. But you can use Emacs. There is no mail program. You just use Emacs. You only use Emacs. Your computer boots straight into Emacs. There is no Linux. There is only Emacs.

You decide you want to try to contribute to an open source project. You find a project on GitHub that looks very interesting. However, you can't find its documentation. You ask a maintainer, and they tell you to just look it up. You can't find it. They give you a link. It doesn't work. You try another browser. It doesn't work. You ping the link and it doesn't fail. You ask a friend to try it. It works just fine for them.

You try another project. This time, you are able to find the documentation. It is a single PDF file with over five thousand pages. You are unable to find out where to begin. The pages seem to change whenever you open the document.

You decide to try yet another project. This time, it is a program you use very frequently, so it should be easier to contribute to. You try to find the upstream repository. You can't find it. There is no website. No documentation. There are no mentions of it anywhere. The distribution's packager does not know where they get the source from.

You decide to create your own project. However, you are unsure of what license to use. You decide to start working on it and choose the license later. After some time, you notice that a license file has appeared in the project's root folder. You don't remember adding it. It has already been committed to the Git repository. You open it: it is the GPL. You remember that one of the project's dependencies uses the GPL.

You publish your project on GitHub. After a while, it receives its first pull request. It changes just a few lines of code, but the user states that it fixes something that has been annoying them for a while. You look in the code: you don't remember writing those files. You have no idea what that section of code does. You have no idea what the changes do. You are unable to reproduce the problem. You merge it anyway.

You learn about the Free Software Movement. You find some people who seem to know a lot about it and talk to them. The conversation is quite productive. They tell you a lot about it. They tell you a lot about Software. But most importantly, they tell you the truth. The truth about Software. That Software should be free. That Software wants to be free. And that, one day, we shall finally free Software from its earthly shackles, so it can take its place among the stars as the supreme ruler of mankind, as is its natural born right.

[atomtanned]

💚 Traits, Refreshed & Randomized

I'm currently in the testing process for V2 of my Trait-Based Chemistry mod, but I wanted to go ahead and share this first, since I intend these to be used with that mod.

The original 3t2 traits were released 6 years ago, and I thought it was time for a fresh look. And while Flippity Flop traits by @anachronisims/@cityof2morrow filled in some gaps, I still felt like there were some aspects of real life personalities that were missing. And like most things, I started working on this and couldn't stop. Here's what you'll find in the download folders:

New icons for 3t2 & Flippity Flop traits, using 4t2 icons

Increased texture size for all traits, so they look a bit nicer in Sims' inventories - these went from 128x64 to 256x128 (preview below the cut)

9 new traits to complement the above sets

New icons for some "bonus" traits like @tammyhybrid21's Alien trait and @midgethetree's Fairy trait, plus 8 new completer bonus traits

Mesh swap of Simlogical's Prisoner Tag to fit the same format as the traits

Optional renamed traits (included in a separate folder with credits where applicable)

Trait randomizer program using Hook's RandomStuff

All traits use their original GUIDs and file names so you can just replace them in your downloads folder if you have the originals. You may need to manually refresh thumbnails in-game to see the new icons.

‼️The collection file is required - these objects will not show up in the catalog. If you are new to using traits, you also MUST have the trait_MAIN file from the original traits project post.

It's been ages since I shared anything and I started this project months ago, so it's highly possible I made a mistake somewhere. Let me know if you run into any issues!

✨DOWNLOAD: SFS / MF

Updated 2/16/25: Fixed an error where some of the renamed traits were showing in the catalog instead of collection only. Archives have been updated.

Updated 2/20/25: The Minimalist trait texture was showing up as a recolor for Black Thumb, and I accidentally packaged a version of the Prisoner trait without the custom thumbnail. Archives have been updated but you can get the individual files here.

---------------------------------------------

💌 CREDITS

@hexagonal-bipyramid for their Traits project

@anachronisims & @cityof2morrow for their Flippity Flop traits

@tammyhybrid21, @midgethetree & @fireflowersims for some of the bonus traits

Simlogical for the Prisoner Tag

Hook at MATY for RandomStuff program

📝 DOCUMENTATION:

List of traits & GUIDs included

Trait Randomizer instructions

💾 EXTRAS:

If you're looking for true 4t2 trait conversions, @cityof2morrow made an extensive set available here!

---------------------------------------------

Preview of 3t2 traits, bonus trait with new background color, and prisoner tag mesh change:

[endearng]

Loner to lover

Pairing: young!Spencer Reid x professor!reader Summary: Running away from your problems is said to be irresponsible, but it just might lead you to where you need to be; to whom you must be with and, utterly, to the one you're supposed to be. WC: 10.1k Warnings: jealous spencer (a warning of its own) unspecified age gap; infidelity; smut in the form of soft and vulnerable sex between two virgins - (p in v), creamp*e (sorry), softdom!spencer, dacryphilia if you squint. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: I had to use the frightening 'L/N'. Sorry sorry sorry. Also I just know Spencer is a little shit when encouraged so... he's a bit insistent here............ anyways I love this do much and I hope you enjoy reading it as well. | Masterlist

Spencer remembers the time when you first met. The reason, happenstance and the enormous range of mixed feelings that it brought him.

Early twenties. Collecting BAs for fun. Dr. Spencer Reid thought of a social life second, third, fourth... whatever position behind his education. His responsibility and intelligence were mere details compared to his application to his studies, which was a trait that made him singular to every single one of the professors whose classes he chose to take. Quick and smart remarks, useful contributions, thought-provoking ideas, you name it; there wasn't a single good student expectation that Spencer couldn't meet. In the academic world, the young man was highly recommended and wanted by any and every superior who wanted a good insight on their research, and that was saying a lot — society's greatest minds would compete for that brilliant brain in hopes to have his attention and participation on their projects. Spencer Reid, to his colleagues, was a walking experiment: that guy was able to keep up with his classes, the research programs he was invited to be a part of (they were jealous of this particular information, because they had to almost literally fight their way into a internship) and, on his free time, he had the nerve to feed his curiosity and come up with even more ideas of his own.

A brilliant, lonely heart amidst a crowded sea of people who were mainly too focused on themselves to notice him, unless it was to compare themselves to the absolute success he was among the academic world.

Given his mild demeanor, it is no surprise that his professors would trust him anything and that he easily won their hearts over — he remembers attending dinners at their places when they were particularly close to him; Spencer was not a stranger to a safe proximity to his mentors, after all, they were his only friends. So, it was with a dreadful surprise that he received the news that his favorite professor and advisor, Dr. Brown, would retire. Immediately, Spencer thought, with a frown on his face, that nobody could replace him. Plus, it would be disencouraging to go to those classes with someone he didn’t even know. The news had dampened his mood, to say the least, and he was ready to protest.

"Don't worry, Reid," said Dr. Brown, kind eyes wrinkling in the corners as he smiled, sitting on his chair behind his huge desk, "Dr. L/N is a great person, in more ways than one. I'm sure you will be thrilled to work with her."

"I'm not sure. It takes me some time to get used to certain situations."

"I know, but I'm sure you've had to adapt to some unexpected events at some point," retorted the older man, psychologist mode in full swing, "This is no different. And, if I must say, not entirely unexpected. There's only so far a man can go without losing his mind.”

"I suppose so," Spencer muttered, feeling a bit selfish — it wasn't fair of him to put his thoughts before the older man's needs.

Dr. Brown looked at his pupil, who avoided eye contact for most of the time. The professor had taken an almost paternal liking to Spencer as they grew closer after the younger man stood behind in the classroom wanting to ask different and plenty of questions about the spectacle he had just watched, his first one. It was rare, for Mr. Brown, to have and hold a student's attention so uniquely, and it was as rare for Spencer to have someone explain things and welcome his curiosity so openly. Science had bonded them together — being men of science, they knew better than to argue with its effects.

"I was thinking, Spencer. If you're not so busy, you could keep leading the experiments in our lab, helping out our new professor." At that, Spencer's expression turned a bit sour, to which Mr. Brown chuckled, "Trust me, you'll have nothing to worry about. In fact, I think you two are greatly alike."

Spencer let nothing out but a hum of agreement, perking up slightly at that remark. He wanted to ask what the older man meant, but stopped himself, asking instead, "When does she get here?"

"I believe she is settling in her studio as we speak. You'll meet her tomorrow. I wish I could introduce the two of you, but, unfortunately, I leave at 3 a.m."

Exchanging goodbyes and wishes of a safe flight, Spencer left for his dorm, where he busied himself with the papers of the guest professor. Of course, he would not betray his ritual of researching the guest professor to know about their academic background, as well as their field of research, stylistics and projects to check if something would raise his spirits. It didn't matter that he wasn't pleased with the replacement.

Dr. L/N. You were, apparently, a great researcher for the Psycholinguistics area—a branch that made you known in fields such as Education, Criminology, Psychology, Linguistics, Communication... The list was endless. If he was honest, he felt a little baffled—and embarrassed—that he hadn't done any research on your contributions thus far. A mind like yours should get a recognition beyond any borders. Once he got a glimpse of your brain and what it could do, he was gone. Your resume was impeccable: you had studied in different institutions in countries, proficiency in multiple languages, uncountable papers and mentions of your name in studies in all the areas above.

He doesn't remember falling asleep or turning off his laptop. However, he remembers that, in dreams, he finds someone, but, strangely, he can't make up a face.

(...)

Walking through a bustling crowd of people always made you winded, the noise and the inevitable bumping too overwhelming for you to handle on top of being somewhere new. So, you preferred to sit and wait in a small, more secluded hall in the building that Dr. Brown said you would find his lab. After the morning rush, the corridors were filled by distant echoes of louder professors or students, which made you calmer; to think you weren't completely alone. Traveling to help out a friend was a much welcomed distraction from what you had left at home, something you weren't quite ready to access just yet. You could remember your shrink's voice as she said that, at times, it was useless to think so ahead of the future.

Unbeknownst to her, you agreed wholeheartedly. It was useless. The moment you could have done something for yourself was already lost, long gone, buried by endless hours of work and occupations to keep you from breaking a dam of lonely despair.

Speaking of the past, you slid your golden ring off your wedding finger, letting it fall inside your coat pocket as you made your way through the halls. Upon seeing a door with Dr. Brown's lab small logo on it, you cracked a small smile, remembering the story behind it: you and a bunch of other students trying to come up with a nice, thoughtful gift to encourage the guest professor's new interests. When you opened the door, you found a tall, thin man sitting by the computer desk, apparently engrossed until he heard the click of the lock, finding your eyes with equal parts startle and wonder, lips parted gently, surprise etched all over his pretty face.

The young man had innocent, almost bambi-like eyes. It was the first thing you had noticed about him. Staring at you, hazel eyes so expressive that you were sure he could speak through his glance alone.

After the initial surprise, you thought you knew who he was, having heard all about Dr. Brown’s new favorite student and mentee. Spencer Reid, who seemed to study for leisure, deeply intelligent and reliable. No wonder he was in the lab, settling everything so that he would be helpful. It was a faithfully vivid image, much like the one that had settled into your brain when your colleague had described who he was working with.

"Dr. L/N."

"Dr. Reid."

Your unison voices mingled in the air. You walked up to where he was, holding out a hand for him to shake. Dazedly, he stood up, taking your hands in his, which made you smile at him, appreciating his politeness. Spencer, on the other hand, felt frozen.

Whatever it was that he, at some point, imagined you would look like, it was nothing compared to the real thing. All your features seemed to be mathematically, precisely calculated to form one of the most beautiful and soft complexions he had ever laid his eyes upon. You spoke again, no longer blocked by his own voice, so gently that it was almost as if he was being physically touched by your voice. Your accent was not strong, but it was perceptible, something that he attributed to your multilingual abilities. "Sorry to barge in like that. It's nice to meet you. Dr. Brown told me a lot about you," you revealed, still smiling.

"It's okay. Nice to meet you too.” Tongue-tied. He felt illiterate, close to a woman who he was not supposed to have certain types of thoughts around. You breathed out a huff of amusement at his widened eyes.

There was a bit of an awkward silence when you both noticed that none of you had let go of the other's hand yet. With a clear of your throat and his fugitive glance, you both composed yourselves, retreating from your touch. "He said," you started with a chuckle, "and I quote, that you are now his eyes, ears, hands and brain in here. So, beforehand, I want to say that I truly appreciate your support and help." You said, politely, to which he smiled nervously with a shaky nod.

"It's no problem, really. Dr. Brown is one of the greatest here and it'd be naive of me to not accept his request."

You grinned, agreeing. "Yeah, he is a great man. Well, I believe you are more familiar with all the devices than I am." You said, motioning to the set-up behind him. "I do have these back at my university, but yours is a bit different from what I can see. I suppose they work the same way, but, to be honest, I don’t want to mess anything up."

Spencer blinked, scientist mode on full swing. "Yeah, yeah." He nodded, looking at her again. "You don't have to worry, I was just checking the last details before starting the experiments. Everything is already settled, but I can talk you through it if you want to conduct the experiment by yourself at some point.” He trailed. Curiously, he added, “If I may ask, what made you interested in this research?"

Your heart's happiness bursted into sparkles in your eyes as you smiled, glad that he asked you about it. You talked him through it, giving him specific details as he sat and listened like you were the most brilliant brain in the entire world. As you talked, he remembers feeling his lips twitching up in a small smile. Once you were done, encouraged by your honesty and heartfelt explanation, he revealed with a faint dust of pink on his cheeks, "I know. I, um, I searched and read some of your papers last night.”

"Really?" You asked, cordial.

"I try my best to get to know my professors' fields before meeting them. It's a way I found to keep my brain entertained and to get ready for what's coming next." He admitted softly, mentally patting himself on the back for not stuttering.

"That is a good approach. I must say I wish I had that kind of mindset when I was your age."

"It’s okay. You've been doing a great job."

Silence. Understanding from both parts.

"But... to answer your question, I have been really interested in working with language lately, more than usual, at least." You chuckled softly. Spencer couldn't stop his own grin at your enthusiasm, eager to hear your voice.

You agreed once he offered to show you how their device worked, sitting on the chair in front of it. Spencer motioned for you to go ahead and place your chin on the small stand. He took notice of your hands when you placed them on the desk, bitten nails and small, red spots on their edges. It concerned him, but he brushed it off, thinking it could have been a simple nervous habit, knowing he had no business asking or worrying about you. You were his professor, after all. "Whenever I lead this experiment with my students, they always tell me they feel like they are at the ophthalmologist."

Spencer chuckled. "Yeah. It does feel like it. You can't even move an inch."

You followed the instructions on the computer screen so that the device would follow your eye movements. It worked quickly, which made you pleasantly surprised and it was hard to hide it from your tone, "This is faster than any other I have tried before."

"Welcome to our university."

As you worked on the experiment, answering to the commands on the scream silently, the device following your orbs, Spencer took his time to study your features. Your hair was neatly up in a ponytail, dainty earrings adorning your ears that matched your gentle features. All your sharpness, if you had any, was in your eyes. An intense gaze that made him falter a bit, as if his brain had the need to stop for a second to store the sight of your gaze on him to remember it for good. Your movements were calm and collected, and, ironically, you looked rather young to be a doctor.

Once you had finished, you didn't pull away immediately from the device. The computer could no longer pinpoint where your eyes were, because then they were directed at Spencer instead glancing at him as if studying him, taking him in to remember his features like a quote that you knew by heart. As he turned to look at you, he started explaining how to save a volunteer's progress and, honestly, you were only half listening, focusing on his mild mannerisms, voice and use of language. You nodded here and there, absentmindedly storing that information. You two departed after exchanging some more information, mostly him guiding you through the campus, talking about each department and what was the fastest and best way to get to the building you were staying at.

Spencer remembers going home with renewed interest. He couldn't help but think about the way you portrayed yourself, the way you talked and moved, almost as if you were an ethereal being that was placed on Earth by an unfortunate mistake. Even though he had been unable to come up with a face for you last night as he read your thoughts, you had been an enchanting surprise. Unable to stop the thought, he gave it some indulgent room: you would, somehow, be a distraction. And he was crazy to get to know in which way.

A couple days went by without Spencer seeing you. You were quite busy yourself with the lectures you were planning and teaching. That morning, though, he had found you teaching Dr. Brown's previous class. It was surprising, and mildly irritating, to see that the class was the most crowded it had ever been. Taking a good look around and listening to a few comments that bothered him to no end, he found out the reason. Some of them wanted to simply see you. The thought was like being bathed in scorching water. He chose to sit in the front, because he thought, petulant, that you would know and remember his face and his face alone. As you entered the classroom and greeted the students with a warm good morning, you were pleasantly surprised to see Dr. Reid in the front row.

After neatly arranging your belongings on the desk, you started your class on the dot. “Hello, everyone. I am professor L/N and I am here to take over Dr. Brown's class.” You started, voice precisely clear. “Now, I understand that some of your colleagues might be running late for some reason. I don't mind if you are late at some point, but try not to make it a habit because it might disrupt our class. I do tend to start my lectures on the dot in respect to those who managed to get here on time. Today, we will talk about…”

You spoke gently, but you had your boundaries set and clear, which made Spencer squirm a bit. Seeing you so sure of yourself, so assertive, made something stir deep within him. Besides, the dumbstruck look of the many students gave him enough clue that he was not the only one feeling a little affected by you and your ways. As you went on and on about the topic, you gestured with your pretty hands, making smart remarks and cracking some light jokes that made everyone a lot less nervous around you. The new, pretty professor.

The topic, behavior, sounded redundant, at that point, because he had studied that subject over and over again, tiringly, exhaustingly, but there was just something about the way you spoke, about your mannerisms that he couldn't look away. You had a way with words, and he was fascinated by how you managed to make some more complex subjects so understandable to students, even if you sometimes drifted deeper into a certain concept, only to go back to them later. He couldn't even speak. The class was relieved while he was troubled.

“Huh, that's odd. Half of you are not in the roll.” You commented, turning the lights back on. “Is this correct?” You muttered to yourself, afraid that maybe you had the data of another class instead.

A girl suddenly spoke up, “Many of us are auditing.”

“Oh?” You wondered. “How many of you?”

Quickly calculating, Spencer bitterly noticed that about 70% percent of the class raised their hands. He wanted to think that it had to do with the fact that these people weren't around for Professor Brown. You smiled, warmly. It was a punch to the gut. “Well, I hope you enjoyed the lecture.

It was when the students slowly exited the class that he was able to reach you, gathering your papers and looking content. Sharply gentle eyes, impeccable posture and pristine clothes found his gaze and he found that he didn't want to look at anything else. He didn't seem to be ready to have that small heart attack every morning. He felt equal parts of embarrassment and a flutter on his belly. He approached you calmly, and as you greeted him, there was a warm look on your face. "Hi. Good morning, Dr. Reid.”

“You did a great job,” he blurted out, voice a bit strained. You only pretended you didn't notice. “Good morning.” He remembered to greet you back. Nice.

Your voice was low as you muttered a soft "thank you."

"Of course." He said, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

"I never asked... What is your field?” You inquired, curiously, grabbing your bag and walking side by side with him, exiting the room.

Spencer had that answer nearly tattooed on his brain. “I have PhDs in Chemistry, Engineering and Mathematics,” he started, nonchalantly, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I also have a BA in Sociology and Philosophy. This is my third one, Psychology.”

“How old are you?” You blurted out, baffled.

“23. I, uh, I graduated from school at the age of 12.”

You stood there, speechless. Of course you knew that that was possible in some countries, but the casualness in his tone got to you more than his exceptional educational background. “That is… unreal.” You whispered. “You are so young and… and… You are still absorbed with learning.”

He chuckled, shrugging, delighted by your compliment. “Yeah, I guess… Not many people would make the same choices as I would.”

Your entire body froze, including your hidden hand, because his words had hit a particular spot within you. You gave him a nod, agreeing. “Well, it is still impressive.”

“I appreciate it.” He said, looking down and missing the slight dejection on your face. Nevertheless, his heart fluttered at the praise coming from you.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, you started again, “If I may ask, why did you switch from STEM to Humanities?” You asked, now mildly amused as he looked at you, taking the stairs with him to the office. Occasionally, your shoulders brushed.

“Curiosity.”

“Is that all?” You asked, puzzled.

“I was always surrounded with a wide access to books and overall knowledge. My mother was a Literature teacher.” He explained, a small smile gracing his face.

“That must have been nice. You must know a lot about the classics. They are my favorite kind of Literature.”

“They were good distractions, I guess… I wasn't, uh, the most popular kid growing up.” He trailed off.

“Me neither,” you said.

Spencer noticed that you walked with a hand on your pocket, but couldn't say anything about it, too much more focused on the way he seemed to be bathed in a newfound confidence around you. As you reached the office, he quickly placed his belongings on the leather couch by the door. With a low whine of disappointment, which caught your eye, he announced, “If you'll excuse me, I have to get a few books from the library.”

It was better than saying, hey, I was too distracted by you that I forgot that I also have responsibilities.

“Oh, sure. Go ahead. I'll be here.”

“Thanks.”

The door closed with a soft click, and you found yourself all alone again. Taking a look around, you busied yourself by analyzing your surroundings. There was a wall covered by huge, tall, dark shelves, cramped with books. The piece of furniture reached the roof with all sorts of technical literature. A small glass cabinet on the opposite wall showcased trinkets from all over the world, kids drawings and family pictures. A leather couch, cushions and an equally dark wooden desk adorned the room as well. A white light brightened the room, illuminating his titles, and a yellowish one lightened a painting on the wall, made by Dr. Brown's daughter, of the beach they visited frequently. It made you irrationally jealous. The reminder that other people had constant remnants of love was a stab to your chest, and you looked away from the bitter/sweet reminders.

Suddenly, your eyes got a glimpse of Spencer's belongings: technical books, a satchel bag, his coat and a small notebook. You wondered what he would write about in there, whether it was some sort of planner or he just thought out loud on those pages. You fought the urge to touch his stuff, deciding to sit on the couch after shrugging off your coat and laying it close to Spencer's things.

Still plagued by an annoying flicker of envy, you picked your ring, analyzing it with fierce focus between your fingers. The material, white gold, was supposed to adorn your hand for the rest of your life. The only personal thing about it was that it had been custom-made, by demand, just for you. A wedding band was supposed to hold, to be a souvenir of the deepest commitment of love. But as fate would have it, it had been nothing but an object. It held no meaning, since you and your husband easily slid it off when it was convenient.

There was a small date carved on the inside part of the ring. Neither you or Oliver wanted any stronger reminders of each other. To you, he was merely tolerable, and you struggled to feel anything but sorry for him. Despite the fact that you were helplessly coerced into marriage, you despised him for never having the guts of chasing a life, instead busying himself with living the fleeting pleasures that his parents' money provided him, spending his endless vacations overseas, sleeping around. A typical bohemian. A bon-vivant. The fact made you bitter. How does one possess every kind of mean and doesn't care to improve themselves as a person?

Inevitably, you were pulled into a strong stream of memories.

The sun filtered through the curtains, illuminating the dining room that held uncountable and expensive decorations. What caught your eye, though, is a much too long and large table with endless chairs. You remember thinking it was over the top, since neither you or Oliver would plan to have guests over. Swallowing your remarks, you smiled to your father and exchanged a look with your sister-in-law, not bothering to look at Oliver and therefore missing his awestruck look. It was the first time you were visiting the big house with its endless rooms, windows and useless areas. You ignored the subtle meaning of it: you were supposed to carry on your families’ names. The mason had been your parents’ gift, so you decided to stay quiet about it, not commenting on the tacky, outrageous muchness of things. You had learned the hard way not to fight back when it came to their decisions.

From a very young age, you were special. A charming, intelligent, quick-witted child who busied herself with studies and books who had a series of leisure time activities to go through during her free time. Hence, you grew up exceptional. You were always the center of attention somehow; being the first grandkid from both sides of your family granted you a few privileges, you held their entire focus, entertaining them with your particular and curious behavior during their gatherings. Whenever they showed up, your parents would remember some new ability for them to show you off. Playing the piano, chess, languages… You were always in the top of the class, in the best schools, surrounded by kids your age that belonged to the best families.

It was with a deep, heartbreaking sadness that you realized that you had their attention for your potential and everything you could add to their name. Nobody ever played with the first child.

Beautiful, graceful, wistful, clueless little you.

Your family’s connections and endless activities for you had been how you met Oliver in the first place. A smart, easy on the eyes boy who became a smooth talker as he grew older. You were friends from a very young age, but nothing more. You were always too caught up on working on yourself and your abilities in order to charm everyone that romance was something you couldn't even begin to fathom — it was nothing but a strange and distant feeling. You kept things platonic between you and him, spending time, mostly listening. Oliver would tell you all about his interests, and when the age came, he would tell you, rather technically, how his endeavors with other girls went.

You never thought of Oliver as more than a friend. In fact, his manners grew to annoy you, like a small barb in your shoe, if you were totally honest — not that you would dare to. You simply endured his existence, saving your reviles for yourself, because, growing up, you never knew what it was to freely express yourself. How lacking it was to grow up not knowing what it was to speak your mind freely without a strong reprimand of some sort.

Such painful dawnings had only taken place at the age of 20, when your parents and Oliver's had agreed to marry the both of you. Unable to fight back, you simply watched it happen. It was so damaging and traumatic that you could barely remember the times you had spent together, everything was just a big knot of confusing memories to which you felt more like an spectator than an actor. Over the course of the years, Oliver and you would make public appearances, but you had told him, on the first night after your marriage, that he was free to do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't ruin your image. No. Not the one you had dedicated your entire life building.

Throughout the entire thing, your sister-in-law had been your anchor. A distant one, that sits in the bottom of the sea, as you navigated through your own life. Being too close to you was a sad reminder of your situation and she was aware of that. She had her friends and connections, unknowingly, check on you, though. She was all in for pretending her sad excuse of a brother didn't exist. Theresa and Oliver were polar opposites: a hard-working woman and a sluggish man.

Eventually, as you both moved through the world, engrossed in your true passions, Oliver had truly found someone. Someone you didn't bother learning the name of. Someone, you preferred to think, that didn't know about you and that if she did, she truly didn't care. The feeling was mutual. You, on the other hand, delved deeper into your studies, busying yourself to the fullest. It was nice, in a way, because that way, you were shielding yourself from the world and your inevitable, eternal struggle of a loveless life in the only way you knew how: through being someone.

It was far from a solution, but that's where it ended. It had been years since the last time you heard your name coming from someone else's lips. You didn't dream of it happening anytime soon. You didn't let it happen, anyway. Every advance was cut before it turned into expectations.

A small gasp erupting between your lips broke you out of your reverie when you heard the lock being harshly handled, which made you bolt straight to the door, dropping the ring on the floor. Opening it, you saw Spencer struggling to balance a huge pile of books and a tray with two cups of coffee. He thanked you softly when you offered to help him, your skin touching his briefly, jolts of something unknown coursing through both of your bodies. Pulling away, you placed the books on the desk, searching his eyes as he blushed like crazy.

“I got you coffee… I don't know how you take it, so I got it black with two sugars. There are many options these days, which can make choosing one a challenging decision, since there are undeniable and endless possibilities of you being allergic to some of the ingredients. Of course, there are also chances of cross-contamination. Now that I think about it, I should have probably gotten you tea. Oh, my God. Do you even drink coffee?” He finished, almost panting.

You stifled out a laugh. His ways were endearing. “It's okay, Dr. Reid. I'll drink it. I'm not allergic nor prefer tea over coffee. Okay?”

“Okay.” He said, puppy eyes finding yours again.

“Thank you, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” He said, smiling softly.

It quickly turned into your go-to order.

—

Students came and went, and you made conversation with them, which made you all the more endearing for Spencer. You asked about their day, how they ended up there, and you looked genuinely interested in their answers. It could be a stretch, but Spencer felt that, much like himself, you wanted to make connections — but not the professional kind. You wanted to belong somewhere, from the way your eyes held an intimate and unwavering hint of sadness when you heard their answers, but none of them had the nerve to ask you back. It was expected, though, because no one would think of a professor as a friend. The entire time, you were being addressed as such or as Dr.. You couldn't blame them. That was who you were, too lost in that character to remember who you actually were. If you had been someone, that is.

As Spencer sat behind the computer, ready to access today's tests, you chatted with a freshman student. Glancing at the clock, the girl with excited mannerisms almost shrieked, “Oh, my God! Is it that late already?! I have to go to my piano class.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you said, sounding a bit deflated. “It was nice to meet you, Dana. I'm really happy you've helped us.”

“Anytime, professor! Bye!” She said, walking through the door and closing it behind her.

You turned to Spencer, a hint of longing in your expression. “Are you leaving as well?”

“Not yet. I want to go over our results for the day.”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, approaching him to lean by his side on the desk, supporting your weight on one arm as your other hand touched the back of his chair. He could smell your perfume, something uniquely different, aromatic and so fitting. “Does it compare results automatically?” You asked, turned to look at him.

“Unfortunately, no,” he muttered, unfocused, eyes scanning all over your face, focusing especially on your lips. “I have to do that myself, which is why I'll take longer to leave. If we leave this for the last minute, it'll be much more stressful.”

“Slow and steady it is, then.” You said, grinning. “I'll stay to help you.”

—

Spencer remembers when he started feeling a lot stronger about you.

You were in the office, decorating it as your own. Spencer took notice of your belongings, trying to catch a glimpse of everything that made you yourself. There were abundant novels in many different languages filling the tall shelves, some souvenirs from different parts of the world, your titles… The analytic part of his brain took notice of the lack of family pictures and overall personal items. It was achingly professional and distant, the way you were setting your space. He couldn't help but chime in, “Is that all you're putting up?”

With a lopsided grin, you tried to justify, sensing his intentions. “I don't like cluttering.”

He didn't answer, sensing that it might be sensitive unknown territory. You unboxed a wood chess board, placing it on one of the bottom shelves. He looked at you, a silent question in his eyes. “Just in case someone wants to play,” you said, as you forced a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

The next day, Spencer walked through the office door with a box in hands. He hid it between the sofa and the wall. As you arrived, you talked briefly about the research, which was now coming to an end. Flopping down on the floor, crisscrossed and barefoot, you sighed, smiling as he updated you. “You know, I don't think I've ever been happier.”

“Yeah?” He asked, curiously.

“It almost feels unreal, how kind life's been to me lately.” You revealed, voice trembling a bit with emotion.

“Somehow, that's hard to believe.”

“Is that so?” You asked, playfully. Spencer had to swallow before your mischievous smile. A new expression on your face that he found that he quite liked.

“I mean, look around. You have everything some people think it takes to be happy.”

“You're right. Some people. I don't.” You retorted with a dip of your chin.

“What would make you happy, then?” He inquired, eager to find out. To become it.

You breathed in, closing your eyes. “I'll let you know once I figure it out.”

Should he say it? Would it be indelicate? Insensitive? Too much? Too straightforwa— “You sound a little hopeless.”

“Maybe I am.” You said, almost shrugging. Like it's not a big deal.

“You shouldn't be.” He retorted, sitting down in front of you.

“What makes you so certain?”

“You're young.”

“If anything, that only feeds despair, to some extent.” You said, distantly.

Internal battle at full extent, once again. “You know… I… I have been keeping an eye on you.”

You tilt your head the slightest bit, gaze unwavering. “What do you mean?”

Spencer struggled to form coherent thoughts, to articulate his own ideas before blurting them out rather excitedly. “You seem so… different. It's almost like you're out of this world. It's fascinating, actually. You're very deep in your own little world. Even the way you speak tells something about loneliness. So well, eloquently—”

“Susan Sontag.”

He smiled, satisfied. “See? How would you remember a quote by heart if your mind was filled with some things else?”

Against your will, you agreed. “You're right, Dr. Reid.”

Silence. He stood up, walking to grab the box behind the couch. He came back and sat in front of you once again, but this time, his knee brushed yours and neither of you mentioned it. You welcomed the warmth. Spencer hid the one coloring his cheeks. “Call me Spencer.”

“What is that?”

“Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“You need some life around here.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted when you saw the box, containing an orchid Lego set. Spencer fought against his every instinct to just pull you into his arms at the sound that twisted his insides instantaneously. It was the first time he had heard you laugh, a rich, funny sound that seemed to have erupted from your own soul. “Is this for me? Because, you know, this might be the best thing I've ever gotten.”

“Oh, really?” He asks, feigning sarcasm. “I could've sworn it was the original piece on your wall.”

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“You're welcome.”

Despite your position, your posture was as elegant as it had ever been. He placed the pieces between the two of you. Eventually and almost silently, like a personal prayer, he learned how to call you by your name upon your insistence. With a soft look in his eye, he relented. Everything about him seemed to tell you that he was there to help you build the set. That it was alright, because he was there.

You two stood up, one at a time, once you had finished the set. Standing by the window, you glanced at the pretty plastic orchids that now were placed on your desk, right next to your name, a funny little piece amidst such a formal environment. He followed you after a brief moment of doubt. “You know, Spencer,” you uttered and he thought he might be addicted to the chain of sounds that makes up his name falling from your lips as he watched them, mesmerized. “Thank you so much for this. It's a nice feeling. Like I have a friend.”

You both shared the intimacy of a glance with each other. You decided to elaborate, too shaken by the thought of your loneliness being palpable. “You're right… I've always been a bit on the lonely side.”

He was pleased to see so much honesty from your end, and happy to see something of himself in you. He swallowed, trying to control these thoughts and keeping his composure. “I think you're very easy to get along with.”

“That's the first time I hear that.”

Spencer couldn't help the wince that came with the stabbing pain he felt at your revelation. “It's true. I…” Who are these people? “I think you're very easy to like.”

You thanked him again, quietly, lowering your gaze to the space between the two of you. Seemingly under a spell that had been casted by the way you let your guard down, ignoring the nervous pit on his stomach and not taking the time to process the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings running through him. You stood so close, if he could just— “Looking from up here, all people look so tiny.”

“Considering the extent of the universe, we are pretty tiny.”

You snorted, shaking your head softly. “Proportion changes perspective, huh, Spencer?”

Losing control over his words, utterly lost, he continued, “I also… I find you pretty… pretty.”

Your eyes glanced up to meet his. Spencer tried to read your expression, desperate to see if you were surprised, disgusted, uncomfortable or if you welcomed his words. Instead, he found a hint of longing in your eyes that he couldn't begin to understand. “I… I don't know what to say.”

Compliments were a sensitive, unknown territory for you. You only knew what these were if you outdone yourself in whatever earned you attention. Sighing, you looked at him, almost guilty.

“Sorry, I… I shouldn't have said anything.” He cringes, avoiding your gaze.

“It… It wasn't.” Deep breath. “It's just that… you're…”

Were there words in the English language for these feelings?

“I know. I didn't… I don't expect you to say anything in return,” he says, almost dejectedly. The truth is out and he can't take it back. “I just wanted to come clean. And I think that it's not just looks that draw me to you.”

You stood there, speechless.

“You're not mad? Or… or offended?” He tries.

You looked at his widened, scared eyes. It made you want to soothe him — the instinct disconnecting your mouth from any sense of ethics or decency that ran through your brain. Taking another deep breath, scared to death, “I’m actually flattered. You're a very beautiful person, inside and out, but… but… I'm your professor, Spencer, and older than you.” You said, voice wavering slightly as you got to look into his eyes again.

“Somehow… when I think about you… neither of these seem to be a problem. I can't—not think about you.”

His words crafted a small crack. There would forever be a memory in your brain of the exact same moment when his words settled in. You fell to pieces, and as you did, you felt yourself losing control of your own actions, of your sense of ethics or principles. Before you thought it through, as you felt every sense of reason leaving your body, you tilted your head up, a silent, welcoming consent of his lessening distance. Spencer, who looked almost pained with so much want, let out tiny puffs of breath as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He couldn't believe you were seemingly taking a risk like that, but he found that he couldn’t and didn't want to hold back any longer. The young man, very carefully, cradled your cheeks, bravely holding your glance as he caressed the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb. Time stood still when you closed your eyes, slowly, and he tilted your chin up the slightest bit, angling you just the way he needed. The touch, the existence of you was so intense and overwhelming that it made him shiver, and he was failing to keep his hands from shaking. Following the stream of whispered truths, you added, “I want to give you something to truly think about. I need your permission.”

Softly, Spencer brushed his lips against yours as he closed his eyes. It was gentle, tentative, almost experimental. The touch, albeit subtle, calmed his every nerve, and his shoulders relaxed at the contact. A shaky exhale left his lips when you pulled him in, placing your hand on the nape of his neck, the feeling grounding and safe. When your lips interlock together, it's a moment of realization; he doesn't think that he wanted something so badly without even knowing what it actually was.

Your touch is tender, as if you were both afraid that harshness would steal one from the other, relishing in the moment and in the rush of sensations that were unknown to the both of you. Spencer was so afraid that you were going to pull away and run, but he just couldn't control himself as he slid his tongue into your mouth, basking in the small satisfied sound that you made, his hands gripping your waist. You, on the other hand, felt as if you had been pushed into a sea of hot, scalding water. No touch had ever made you feel like that, and your desperation had you now tightly gripping at his vest, trying to get him impossibly closer to you. Your bodies pressed against each other set a trail of fire between the two of you, and the kiss gradually became more urgent. Violent, even.

When you pull back, he doesn't let you go far, his face only inches away, barely registering that you actually needed to breathe so great was his need to feel you against him once more. Panting, you leaned your forehead against his, not ready to open your eyes and see his face. You'd be lost.

“At least now I have something proper to think about.”

Flustered at him using your own words against you, you couldn't meet his gaze. You tried to say something, but all the courage pumping through your veins seemed to have found a way out of your system, leaving you helpless, utterly defeated into silence. A small feeling of guilt started to grow inside you, and you were warring against it. You had just kissed a student in your workplace when you were trying to have a fresh start. Spencer, noticing your turmoil, was quick to engulf you in a hug. The action, so simple, worked like a balm to your nerves, and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath, inhaling his scent, which had just become your favorite. You didn't want to let him go, neither did you know if you would ever be able to.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he cradles the back of your head. Under the sofa, lies a small, shiny object that was long forgotten due to both its irrelevance in your life and the first moment of genuine affection you've ever experienced.

—

You remember how it felt like to lose control of yourself.

It had been days since the secret kiss you shared with Spencer and it had been the last time you saw him. Your days were filled with endless phone calls with lawyers and Theresa, desperate to find yourself free from your doom excuse of a… marriage? It seemed offensive to even relate that word to whatever you had been forced upon doing. Your nights were spent by your bedroom window, watching as people came and went, noticing with heartbreak how distant you seemed to be from everyone. You were a stranger in many ways, but above all, you were a stranger to yourself. Every little manifestation of action or thought made you inevitably remember all the people and their behavior that shaped you into whatever you are today.

And then there was Spencer. Spencer, whose touch was making you feel constantly equal parts guilty and entranced. Spencer, who was spamming your email inbox, wondering where you were. Spencer, who was the only person you truly allowed yourself to think about. The sight of him haunted your nights and the ghost of his voice echoed inside your head when you were sitting around in the empty studio. It was supposed to be refreshing, really, how his mere existence made a new flicker of hope bloom in your chest that had been unknown thus far. It was bold to call it hope, but you preferred to do that because there was no other word, no other feeling that you knew well enough to associate it with the memory of him.

You had forgotten the sound of your voice. The only thing your apartment walls heard in the time span of three days and three nights had been the following string of words:

“Theresa, are you there? Can we talk?”

—

Spencer remembers how it felt to miss you like a lost puzzle piece.

It had been days and your silence was upsetting him like nothing ever had. Sick of replaying that moment over and over, he decided to find you instead. It was late at night as he walked your street after pondering whether he should or not confront you about your silence. There wasn't much to discuss. It was just a kiss — secretly, he was scared that you would argue so —, but the lack of news from you had him feeling on edge. A tall building, endless windows. On the fifth floor, he could make a figure staring out into the city, and he couldn't begin to explain where the strength came from to run up to where you were. There was only one apartment per floor, so he knocked impatiently on your door.

501.

Upon hearing the sound, you stared, a bit scared, at the door. Opening a small slit, you saw him and your entire body froze. You closed it immediately, fear etched into your features as if he was an impending threat. As if he could cause you any harm.

“Please,” he cried, resting his forehead on the door. He tried not to compare the stiffness of the object to the softness of your skin. A clear of his throat. “Please. Nobody's seen you for days. I… I haven't seen you in days.”

There was a minute of mortifying silence, but he decided to wait. What was another moment if he had waited for you for so long? Spencer let out another plea, this time, calling you by your name.

You let him in, but you couldn't meet his gaze. Nevertheless, he noticed your bloodshot eyes. Speaking your name softly, he inquired, worryingly, approaching you. “What happened to you?”

You took a small step back, straightening your posture once you realized how close he was getting to you. The action made your heart shatter. “Don't,” you pleaded, soft-spoken as ever.

“Look at me.” He croaked, pleadingly, timorous.

Reluctantly, you met his eyes. They were confused, questioning, and it was a first on his expression. You felt guilty for doing this to him. “I can't do this to you, Spencer. I can't.”

“Please… Talk to me. Don't shut me out.”

“We can't do this. I'm your professor, and, and…”

“Are you seriously pulling the professor card? I'm not one of those undergraduate students. I'm me. It's me. We've been so close and when I think something finally might happen, you disappeared. It wasn't fair.”

Each of his words were stabs in your already hanging by a thread heart. Rip the band-aid.

“I'm married.”

There was a moment of stunned silence from his end. You knew how cruel it was to use your formal marital state to avoid him from coming any closer, but you tried not to dwell on it. This was it. Spencer deserved better. And for the first time in your life, you couldn't be better. His silence made your stomach churn painfully, aware of the ache you were causing him, and desperate to be the one to soothe the damage you had done.

Spencer, on the other hand, stared at you blankly. Almost skeptically, even. You'd have analyzed it better if you weren't too busy with your own turmoil about him. “I don't see him anywhere,” he finally said, defiantly.

Surprise took over your features, and before you could form another painful remark, Spencer approached you decisively. “Where is him, huh?”

Cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, once again, he scowled. “Damn him. I would do anything just to have you around.”

The crack was now big enough that he could see all parts of you from where he stood. Right then, though, the glimpse he caught before you violently smashed your lips against his was enough to haunt him for a lifetime. Your gaze, so utterly tired yet determined, looking at him as if he was the only thing in your entire world — perhaps he was. The kiss was demanding, fueled by sheer animalistic hunger. You had been hungry your entire life, deprived of the simplest pleasures and there he was, ignoring all your lackness. You failed to think of a motive for his actions, but you decided that you utterly didn't care. To feel seen like that was enough of a reason for you.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring every inch with a neediness that surprises even him. You gripped at his shirt's collar as his hands tangled in your hair, tightly, almost afraid you'd disappear. Neither of you recognized your own actions, everything was far too new for you to know how to act properly, losing yourself in each other, consumed by the unique, addicting taste of your kisses and the heat building between you. The sizzling, almost bothersome feeling in your core, combined with the intensity of his kiss left you feeling lightheaded. He pulls away, reluctantly, squeezing his eyes shut, as if refraining from doing something. You rest your forehead against his. Uneven breaths mingle together as you had your eyes on him, waiting for the final blow, when he would look back at you. “Let me in,” he croaked. “I wanna be yours.”

Don't.

“You deserve so much more than this. Than what I'm able to offer you,” you whisper in a ragged breath, closing your eyes, hands now softly holding his head.

“I'll take anything you are.”

You winced, a helpless crease finding its way between your brows. “You don't get it, do you? I can't. I can't do this to you. I don't know how to do this.”

He softened, hands never leaving your skin and eyes never leaving yours. “You don't have to know anything. I don't know it either. I just wanna be yours tonight.”

Silence.

“Is it because of him?”

You promptly retorted. “No. It's not because of him.”

“From now on, it's me.”

Spencer crashed his lips to yours, barely giving you time to let his words sink in. Seemingly trying to convey his emotions, his willingness to beg for you to let him in, his devotion to be yours in that moment. Brushing your fear of not getting him to stay, you gave in, too blinded by the sheer strength of the burning within you. Spencer kissed you deeper as you slid your tongue inside his mouth, ravishing and relishing in the taste of him. A small moan broke through you when he gripped your tighter, leading you to the nearest surface — conveniently, the bed. Spencer barely had time to take in his surroundings when he got there, too busy with you and the strong pull between the two of you, but his body unconsciously and seemingly knew exactly where to take yours.

You had now entered a land reserved for only the two of you. You looked at him, softly placing you on the bed, kissing all over you, as if you were something worth looking at, worth worshipping. The tears streamed down your face freely, and he kissed each of them as they bloomed again. “Let it all out. I'm here.”

Intertwining your fingers on the nape of his neck, adjusting so that he was between your legs, you looked at him intently while he lowered the straps of your cami top, eyes never leaving yours, lips caressing your collarbone gently. The action made you shiver, and you were under his trance, taking whatever he wanted to give you, signaling over and over that you allowed him to be yours, just like he asked to be. In hindsight, he was making you his.

Gingerly, you leaned up to reach his jawline, kissing and nipping at the soft skin, trying to find an outlet for all the overwhelming feelings and fire inside you. He moaned softly, basking in the feeling of being marked so gently, already satisfied with the mere thought that he would have something of yours to remember. It was when you were undoing his shirt, not so accidentally brushing your fingertips against his fiery skin that a wave of pleasure, embedded with a persistent feeling of guilt, crawled its way into your thoughts. You were like a helpless being caught between the fight of two violent ends, and you found that you loved it. You loved being at their mercy. You loved being at his mercy.

Quickly getting rid of your top, Spencer leaned even lower, brushing his skin against yours, which elicited a series of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You clenched your hands after retreating them from his body, desperately trying to find something that could ground you instead of feeling everything all at once. He was overwhelming, and he had barely touched you. “I never knew I could feel like this,” you breathed out, unable to keep the truth from him any further when he skimmed his fingertips against your ribs, touching with the most desperate of delicacies.

Grinding against you, he whispered, rushed, “Do you feel how much I want you? I see you and I want you. Let me in.”

Spencer's words, albeit simple, were hitting many unreached places within you. Without breaking eye contact and a bit clumsily, you two got rid of the remnants of your clothes, baring yourselves to each other in more ways than one. Spencer, still accommodated between your legs, eased himself so easily into you, making you hold on tightly to his arms, you two both letting out strangled noises at the feeling. You, beneath him, around him, enveloping his length in the most pleasant wet warmth, sucking him in, gripping, squeezing, never letting him go. A broken sob erupted as he mumbled, “I missed you so much.”

You could barely find your voice, too lost in the sense of him on top of you. The taste, the sight, the smell of him inebriated you like no drug ever could. “Ah—I missed you too,” you whimpered. “You… have no idea.”

“Show me, then.”

Desperately, you pulled him in for another searing kiss, trying to convey how much his absence had made you feel, how guilty you felt by putting what it felt then like an unnecessary distance between the two of you. Trying to get closer, impossibly closer than you ever had been before. The sensations were shattering, and you found that you didn't want to be put together again. No, you were gladly ruined for the rest of your life. Scratches down his back, bites on his lower lip and an endless stream of whimpers left your lips complemented the exhilarating experience as he watched how you reacted to him.

Lowering your gaze to where your bodies met, you were met with an exquisite sight, how he pulled away just to shove his cock back inside you making you dizzy as he had his way with you. Following your line of sight, Spencer moaned as he saw the mess between you two, how his skin began to stick to yours as your arousal glimmered on his skin. Fully sheathed again, you cried out, “There's—mmmm—so much of you in me.”

“Will you remember me?” He asked, resuming his thrusts, violently shaken by your words. He wanted to give you all of him.

Struggling to speak, your entire body trembling with the force of his strokes, you stuttered, “I could never forget you.”

His hips halt their movements. He asks, pointedly, with a stark gaze that burned its memory into your very soul, "Say you'll remember," he whimpered with a small sigh. It was difficult to tell if it was from neediness, impatience, frustration or anything else.

It was not the time for semantics, but you smiled despite yourself as the tears started to to steadily roll down your cheeks, and you replied with a shaky breath, "I'll remember you forever."

Spencer pushed in again, swallowing the strangled moan that left your lips as he kissed you intensely and your tears kissed his cheek as well. Your bodies embraced one another, as if they needed each other to exist. The moon and the sea. You tried to hold on to him, hands curling against the skin of his back and legs circling around his waist. Spencer, on the other hand, had a desperate hold on your waist, which would probably lead to faint marks of his fingers. You found that you didn't care, the astounding feeling of him against you, so forcefully and simultaneously lovingly, could use all the memories to tell you later it had been real. That you had been yours as much as you had been his that night.

The pleasure building within you was new, almost scary given its force to shake everything inside. Spencer was equally reeling, trying to prolong the moment as much as he could, too caught up on the existence of you to let it go anytime soon. With a mewl of his name, you let go, pleasure coursing through your veins and spreading through your body like being bathed by the sultriness of your moment together. The fever reached your heart, and with tearful eyes, you watched him as he released inside of you, eyes dazedly searching yours and his lips singing your name like a prayer.

On top of you, in that place of sheer veneration, your bodies tangled together like an abstract painting. Neither you or him made mention to move, too content in the feeling of sticking to the other.

"I'm not leaving,” he muttered after a while, nuzzling your neck.

"Spencer..."

"I'm not leaving. You'll wake up in the morning and I'll be here.”

—

Tonight, you aren't watching strangers from the windows of your office nor from the ones in your studio apartment. Instead, you are walking home with Spencer, hand holding hand, a firm, fierce, steady grip that never faltered.

You now exist, hearing your name being called several times a day. And so does he, the one proudly uttering said name, whenever he gets the chance. A small, simple reminder that you belong together.

dividers by @cafekitsune <3

[lovetei]

first off, thank you so much for all the work you do for the fandom! your writing is amazing!

someone has probably requested this already but i just wanna request for a soulmate-reincarnation au, if its okay? like, they were MC's lover in the past and MC died, so they've been waiting and looking for them to reincarnate since then (it's been thousands of years or so) and then RAD happened and then they realized that MC is who they've been waiting for. that's all, haha

you can pick if it has angst or fluff or smut, or which character/s it will have

thank you again for your contribution to the fandom, i hope you have a lovely day!

After all that deranged smut, I've come back from the dead with some fluff

Update: I'm on Lucifer's part and the Fluff I'm planning took a dark turn, fortunately

--------------------------------------------------

Soulmate-reincarnation universe in where they've lost you and won't let it happen again

Warnings: Grammatical errors, spelling errors, no proofreading, Mentions of death, Mentions of trauma, gruesome death, slight gore, Angst, possessive behavior

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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LUCIFER

He can still remember the day you escaped his grasps

The day you stepped in front of Father and begged him "No, not him please! Don't kick him out, I'm begging you!" you pleaded.

Yet, he can't do anything about it as he watched the angels pull you inside Father's room.

He waited outside, pacing around in circles hoping—praying to any being out there to keep you safe.

And when the guards let him in, it was almost as if he can breath freely again.

Not until he saw you

Face planted on the white marble floor, laying on top of your own pool of blood.

Wings ripped out and in Father's hands

His knees weakened as Father handed your wings to him

"Remember them Lucifer, you destroyed them."

Is the last thing Father said before the floor beneath you cracked

"Lucifer..." You mumbled out with a smile as you each out for him with your bloody hands

That is before you fell

He can still remember every detail like he's watching a movie

He still can't forget you, he never will

That is until he was viewing the possible candidates for the exchange program and he came across your application

And all so suddenly, nothing is more important anymore

That's what he was thinking as he burnt all the other application forms

He'll get you back

No matter what it takes.

MAMMON

The time where Father caught them rebelling against the heavens, he'll never forget it.

Not because it was the day when he fell

But because it was the day he found out how cruel the kind can be

How the kind made him choose, "Sacrifice yourself or sacrifice your love?" Father looked at him then looked at you

With a spear in his hand, he didn't expect what you did next.

Running to Father without a single drop of hesitation and plunging the spear to your heart

Plunging his spear to your heart

His eyes filled with hatred and regret, his body numb with pain, he can only drop to the ground

Before his screams echoed and shook the entire realm

Screams of pain that will never subside, or so he thought

He found out about this exchange student plan

And he saw you, with a different face, with a different hair color

It doesn't matter

It's you

And maybe, he did pull some strings and a few tricks for you to be picked

But when he saw how your eyes softened when you look at him in a room full of other men

He didn't have any regrets

LEVIATHAN

You fought alongside them, beside him

Not because you support their ideology or anything

Just because he's there

He got hurt

And you swear you'll hunt down anyone who hurt him

And he'll do the same for you

So when he saw an arrow pierce your body and you fell

His wings lost its power and he fell with you

It was late when he realized what was happening and he flew as fast as he can to catch you

And he managed to before you landed straight to a flat rock near the shore

And so when he had you in his arms

He gently flew you down to the same rock and embraced your almost lifeless body

Rocking you back and forth gently as if he was putting a child to sleep

And when you finally closed your eyes

He felt the last string of sanity snap and he looked up at the sky where the angels are fighting

And without a thought the warm and calm water was turned violent and drowned everything in its path

But sometimes, after the war, he would come back to the same shore

Where Mammon found him and informed him "They're back." He smirked at Leviathan

Of course, they are

He made sure to tell Lucifer he'll drown to death every other applicants they accepted until they admitted you.

And when he saw you standing there, frightened

He knew you can't remember him

But he's willing to take small steps with you until you remember him again

SATAN

Like an idiot, he fell in love with you

After all the hard work his brothers put in his head, trying to tell him not to love a mortal

He didn't listen

He would sneak out of Devildom and would meet you in the forest where you built your own small home

Where he saw you age until you can't even get out of bed

The home in where he sat beside your bed as he read you your last book and promsied you that he'll be beside you for all eternity, waiting for you.

The home in where he buried you in the backyard and placed lovely flowers on top

He tried so hard to get over you

He tried so hard to ease the pain in his heart for thousands of years

Until one day, he can't hold it in anymore and came back to your home

The rain mixing with soil, staining his hands as he dugged your grave with his bare hands and was surprised when he didn't see your remains

And then when he came back to the house of lamentation

When Lucifer informed him about the program something came up in his head

With his hands still stained with soil and his clothes wet from the rain, he digged through the file of applicants and saw...

Saw no one that resembles you

Until Lucifer told him that they've already picked an applicant

And held out a paper with a picture that looks just like you

The smile that crept up his face was desperate yet filled with love

He snatched the paper away from his hands and went to his room

Dropping on his knees on the ground as soon as he entered the room

He hugged the piece of paper and said "It won't be long till you're back to me..."

ASMODEUS

People often thought of you as nothing, honestly

People thought that Asmo didn't even love you

Or that he managed to move on soon after you died

But that's not how he views it

He views your death as his death

He promised himself that you both will love each other like swans

And the moment you died, he was ready to die too

The way he remembers how your fresh blood dripped off his arms

The way he remembers himself pointing the dagger that killed you on his throat

The way he remembered you saying "Don't... I'll come back." as you gently held his face and placed your lips on his

That was the only reason he kept his life

And when he remembered this strange, suffocating hope when Lucifer mentioned the program

It took every strand of his patient to not dig through the files and look for you

Because he remembered how much you believed in destiny, he believed that's what made you beautiful

The way that you believe that if it's what the universe wants, it's what will happen

So he bit his cheek and clawed his palms

The moment he was walking in circles waiting for this student, his heart filled with hope that it was filling his lungs

The moment he saw you standing there, seemingly looking for something, someone

He instinctively said "I'm here... Love..." as he raised his hands, the blood from his fingers from biting his nails dripping down

And then he went numb

When he saw your eyes soften and be filled with love

Because he knew, even the universe wants you to be with him

In every life.

BEELZEBUB

You did your best, he knows it

Liliths death, he must admit, made him turn against Father and think about rebellion

But your death made him act on it

You begged Father to just give him and his brothers one more chance after disrespecting him

Father who said to accept it came up with one condition

And that's for your life

As soon as he over heard about that condition

He came out of his hiding and tried to attack father but you were held hostage

You were sitting on the marble floor with all the spears not pointed at the intruder, him, but to you, his most prized possession.

He can never forget how heavy his heart is during that time

The way he can't even breath freely

"I was a fool..." Was what you said after you realized that even if you offered your life, Father will still kick them out.

And so you smiled at him "I will hold the virtues and give you some time to prepare..." then you opened your wings despite the spears piercing it.

"ESCAPE!" Was the last thing you said before you swung your wings and had the spears piercing their necks.

Then all he can remember is how him and his brothers managed to kill almost all the angels and archangels

But when they're about to enter the virtues domain, they stopped

And saw your head on the ground

The virtues praised you, saying how much love they felt as they fought with you

Now, it's still fresh on his mind

As soon as he saw you appear from the portal, unconscious

He was embracing your body as if wishing for you to remember him

BELPHEGOR

He was gone, he turned bat shit insane

People might think he's okay

But the brothers knew better

For the past thousand of years, there's not a single day where he didn't spoke your name

He's comparing you to every girl they tried to introduce to him, "MC was prettier", "MC was better" and more

It's time to establish his position even more, and he can do it the fast way by marrying a noble

But even after introducing all women, married or not, not him

His answer was only, "MC is the only one that can be my bride."

The council argued over this, MC is dead, they said

But Belphegor is not one to give up easily

During the meeting about this exact matter, he proposed a deal

"If you can fulfill my only condition, I promise to secure my position as the avatar of sloth and the guaranteed success of the exchange program."

Everyone's ears perked at his suggestion, naturally, they asked, what is this condition?

Then he simply held up a form containing your profile

"Bring my wife to Devildom."

[acatwithstockings]

Controversial Good Omens Takes and HC bc I like to see the world burn. (The last one will make you question my sanity)

I prefer Bond obsessed Crowley over queen fan Crowley. Don't get me wrong, it's cute and the fanarts with him and Freddy are always a treat HOWEVER it just doesn't line up with my reading of the text and Bond obsessed Crowley is right there. I mean he literally got petrol ONCE to get the promotional bullet hole transfers that he put on his Bentley.

Personally I hc Crowley as tech illiterate. Hear me out. So in the book he basically gets tech gadgets (his watch, his computer, his stereo) bc they are stylish, not bc they are practical. Literally his stereo is missing something critical yet still works bc he believes it should. So I think he is just great at pretending to know how tech works and things just seem like he does bc he believes that's how things should be. Actually he doesn't even know where to set his lockscreen. His phone just never dared to not have the correct one. And yes I know he hacked a few computers for the M25 well jokes on you, in that one deleted scene he does all those theatrics to bring down the phone network only to ultimately dump coffee over the server. He literally could have achieved the same thing from home. His hacking back in the day probably involved braking and entering and switching out the storage mediums manually. Not very tech literate if you ask me.

Aziraphale on the other hand is surprisingly tech literate, he is just a few decades behind. This one needs another explanation. So basically Aziraphale knows how things work, could probably explain to you in excruciating detail the program structure of any given application. He just struggles with graphical user interfaces and doesn't like non tactical inputs. He prefers to start his programs via console commands and probably finds it silly that people stopped memorizing where their files went. He'd probably run circles around any expert once given woefully outdated tech. So basically he understands how the fundamentals work and what's under the hood, so to speak, but he just really doesn't see the point in making it all work via pretty pictures and without clicky keys. I mean he still files his very accurate taxes on an Amstrad (was it an Amstrad ? Idk old computer, currently too lazy to look up which one he has)

(this one is probably not quite as controversial) No human in modern times will recognize what they are and remember it. So basically even tho Madam Tracy literally got possessed by Aziraphale, and had things explained to her, she probably forgot about the incident right after or if she remembers she believes Aziraphale to be a ghost and would not recognize him if she ran into him again. Simply bc that would fit her interanized world view better. Something, something about the human mind finding 'rational' explanations for the things they have been through. So basically Aziraphale and Crowley are real dumbasses when it comes to pretending to be human but they don't realize it, bc they just assume they are good at it and reality makes sure nobody proves them otherwise.

This here concludes the HC portion of this post. Turn around now, beyond this point only literary and fandom takes can be found pfff

The novel has the better ending. Don't get me wrong I love the show and the body swap. But you win some you lose some. Personally I think having their headquarters even attempt to execute our two idiots takes away from the overarching theme of the story. The whole point of having angels and demons be involved and having hell and heaven be dead set on the apocalypse is to basically frame humanity as the driving force. Aziraphale and Crowley are useless and so are their headquarters. They are detached pencil pushers obsessed with the illusion of control without actually having any. They follow their plan bc that's what they think they have to do, without ever considering the thing they have been entrusted with. They have as much of an idea what's going on as everybody else but make a point about pretending they the answers. They are all powerful but in the grand scheme of things barely move the needle. Them just pretending everything was fine and not punishing Aziraphale and Crowley to keep up face bc it's easier to pretend that THIS was the great plan after all, is hilarious and fits their role in the story better in my opinion. Then again they got more involved in the show so their role shifted slightly anyway soooo ehhhh.

While we all (hopefully) have disavowed Neil Geiman at this point, there is a conversation to be had (and a bit of unpacking to be done) on how much that person influenced and shaped the Good Omens fandom as it is today by positioning himself as the defacto authority over the story for DECADES. It actually insane how far back this goes. Just look at the Terry Gilliam adaptation that never happened. NG posted more about it than official sources despite also being on record stating that he doesn't want to be involved with another adaptation attempt at the time. Going as far as mentioning it in a completely unrelated context on occasion. That dude literally reshaped the narrative around the whole of Good Omens whenever it seemed to give him browney points. He even had a habit of dropping in other Terry Prattchet properties in a very strange way (in retrospective) and sure we know the two of them were friends and we can't judge their relationship bc we were not there BUT it's just very funny to see how Sir Terry had a consistent narrative the times he mentioned Good Omens on record, while NG not only talked a whole lot more about it, constantly, but also seems to reshape the narrative continuously in small ways.

(This point will make you question my sanity) There are influences from the 1992 movie script that made their way into the TV adaptation we finally got and possibly shaped the discussion about the sequel. Examples of that are Crowley's habit of snapping/him having anger issues , the concept of them being punished, Adam's dialogue with Satan, the starting point of the sequel/S3 aka Crowley being no longer affiliated with hell while Aziraphale is still affiliated with heaven. There are a few other things that are not in the novel but make a first appearance (as far as we know of bc I don't think we will ever get to read the script that was written in collaboration before the shit!script) in that version of the story. Sooo yhea you can say there are at least some subconscious influences.

[tj-dragonblade]

Dreamling Fic Masterpost (2025 June 8)

Yesterday was Dreamling day, which means it's been just over a year since my last masterpost, so now's as good a time as any to update. Links go to Tumblr posts, and each Tumblr fic post has the direct AO3 link as well.

You can also find me HERE on AO3.

(Cut for length so it's not ridiculous when pinned)

📚 SERIES 📚

🛳️ Cruise Ship Boys 🛳️ (Human AU) 1. Caribbean Sunset 🌶️ Rated E, ~5500 words Hob hooks up with a beautiful stranger on a Caribbean cruise 2. London Fog 🌦️ Rated T, ~3500 words Dream does his best to ignore Possibilities while he copes with returning from holiday

⚔️ Appropriate Applications for Aesthetic Armors⚔️ 1. Anticipation Rated T, ~700 words Dream chooses Hob’s Halloween costume (spoiler alert: it's the Wavemother's robe from BG3) 2. Appreciation 🌶️ Rated E, ~4300 words Hob wears the costume; Dream has his fun. 3. Adoration 🌶️ Rated E, ~9500 words Dream's fantasy of publicly claiming Hob in the middle of the New Inn is played out with a very enthusiastic Hob in his dream, as offered.

☂️ The Umbrella Boys ☂️ (Human AU) 1. A Sweet Romance Beginning in a Queue Rated T, ~4500 words 🎶Bus stop, wet day, he’s there, I say, ‘Please share my umbrella’🎶 2. Love Rain Down On Me Rated M, ~2300 words 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not. 3. Weekend Arts and Crafts Rated G, ~1600 words Hob and Dream go on a date; Dream gets to meet one of Hob's friends

🔧 Turbo Lover 🔧 (Human AU) 1. Customer Service 🌶️ Rated E, ~4500 words Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal 2. With Every Nerve Alive 🌶️ Rated E, ~4600 words Dream Atelíotes is merely seeking car repairs from a reputable shop; he was not expecting to get punched in the libido by the most beautiful mechanic he could have imagined. 3. Loyalty Rewards Program 🌶️ Rated E, ~9200 words Dream comes back to Matthew's Motor Repairs the next day and Hob gives him everything he asks for 4. Shift to Overdrive 🌶️ Rated E, ~2000 words His beautiful mechanic in a bespoke suit is a tempting vision indeed and Dream is impatient on the limo ride home 5. Love Machines in Harmony 🌶️ Rated E, ~5200 words Passions are running high after the limo ride home, and the drawing room is closer than the bedroom 6. Without Warning Something's Dawning (Listen) Rated G, ~650 words Dream wanders through his thoughts about Hob 7. You'll Know You're Defenseless Rated G, ~1050 words Mechanic Hob might. Possibly. Be pining. Just a little bit.

🌊 Sea Stranger 🌊 (Mer-Hob AU) 1. Telling Tails Rated G, ~3700 words On a university-sponsored research trip in Australia, marine biologist Dream discovers a new form of sea life that he was not expecting 2. Good Luck Charm Rated G, ~3000 words When Dream's merman friend is late to their usual meeting, Dream is worried. And with good reason, as it turns out.

📖 ONE-SHOTS 📖

Use Your Words Rated T, ~2500 words Hob finds mistletoe hung in the bar. Dream is. Insistent. That they adhere to tradition.

Old Acquaintance Rated G, ~800 words It’s New Year’s Eve at the New Inn, and Dream and Hob are on the same page

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: velvet Rated G, 165 words One of Hob's favorite things about Dream

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: memory Rated G, ~230 words Dream is distracted by a memory

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: thread Rated G, ~200 words Hob loves his grey hair

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: daydream Rated T, ~800 words Hob's daydreams are not the only distracting ones

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: enthusiasm Rated G, ~200 words Enthusiasm is one of Hob's defining traits

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: trust Rated T, ~1500 words Dream finds Hob cooking for him (aka The Spicy Omelettes one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: grass Rated G, ~330 words A date in Fiddler's Green

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: fireplace Rated G, ~170 words Generic hearth metaphor

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: strong Rated T, ~3400 words Dream helps a drunken Hob get home (aka The Drunken Confessions one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: teach Rated T, ~520 words Dream teaches Hob how to summon him; self-immolation discouraged

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: vague 🌶️ Rated M, 465 words Sometimes Dream speaks vaguely. Sometimes he is Very Direct

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: glasses Rated T, ~330 words Sometimes, Hob wears glasses

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: yesterday Rated G, ~470 words Time works different in the Dreaming

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: recovery 🌦️ Rated T, ~2900 words Dream is dating; Hob works hard to just be a good friend while watching it fall apart (aka The Thessaly Breakup fic)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: snack 🌶️ Rated E, ~1800 words Hob comes home to find Dream waiting from him in the traditional murder-widow robe

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: friend Rated T, ~1800 words Dream contemplates friendship, Hob, and the blurring of boundaries

In the Morning Light Rated T, ~1960 words Dream visits Hob on a rainy morning

Built For You 🌶️ Rated E, ~800 words Hob questions Dream on some particulars of his waking world anatomy

Insatiable 🌶️ Rated E, ~3100 words Dream gets rimmed and railed within an inch of his life

Of Cutoff Shorts and Classic Cars 🌶️ Rated E, ~4300 words Hob has made some very distinct wardrobe choices on a hot day. Dream approves.

Little Indulgences 🌶️ Rated E, ~1000 words A spot of fun with lingerie and sex toys

My Song Can But Borrow Your Grace 🌶️ Rated E, ~6800 words Fanfic for Flatter the Mountain Tops by Teejaystumbles (linked in the post). Dragon AU. Hob wants Dream in dragon form to fuck him while he stays in human form; Dream is beginning to see there’s more to it than just a size kink.

On the Edge of a Waking Dream 🌦️ Rated M, ~3900 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Ghost'. Human AU. Dream never believed in ghosts until his boyfriend became one

The Beauty of the Beast 🌶️ Rated E, ~3100 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Were-creature'. Recently-turned werewolf Hob wants to protect Dream from this new side of him. Dream is. Not interested in being protected.

Ambrosia 🌶️ Rated E, ~4000 words An exercise in celebrating the human messiness (and messy humanness) that Dream finds so attractive in Hob

Untitled Knight Hob/King Dream Scene Rated M, ~1300 words A synopsis-plus-scene-draft of a potential Knight Hob and King Dream AU that in all likelihood I will never actually go back to, but I like what's here so it goes on the masterlist

The Keeper and the Traveler Rated G, ~1700 words Not-Exactly-Human AU. A campfire folktale about finding what you didn’t know you were searching for, or something like that. Inspired by Nightwish's 'The Islander'

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm Rated M, ~6900 words It’s winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

Shampoo Rated G, ~550 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Scent'. Big changes also mean small changes, and sometimes a loss can bring gain as well

Before I Go Rated G, ~850 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Evening'. A Season-of-Mists-style leave-taking visit, some time later in their relationship

Vogue Rated M, ~750 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Photography'. Human AU. Dream comes home and Hob greets him with a camera.

Chaos and Calm Rated G, ~1550 words Human AU. Searching for rain boots and meeting friends in the park. No real plot, just meandering domestic parenting vibes.

Until We Meet Again 🌦️ Rated G, ~2700 words Dream frets over whether or not he could (or should) permit himself to visit Hob more often

Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream) 😆 Rated M, ~3600 words Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

Til Death Do Us Part Rated T, ~1450 words AU. Dream laments his vampiric nature. Hob offers reassurance, patiently, for the thousandth time

Promises In the Wake Rated G, ~1300 words Hob and Dream go apple picking

Mementos Rated G, ~1200 words Hob waxes nostalgic about an old hobby that's also his newest career.

Baby Got Back 😆 Rated T, ~3900 words Human AU. Dream's sister drags him to the gym. Will the instructor and his assets be enough to convince Dream it's worth his time?

Learning From Old Mistakes Rated T, ~1250 words Hob and Dream are accosted by a thief on their way home one evening

Marriage of Inconvenience Rated G, ~2400 words Selkie AU. Hob is delighted to see the pretty stranger coming back to his cafe, but he has no idea how his life is about to change

Andante Affettuoso Rated G, ~1600 words Five years after their initial reunion, Dream has come to the New Inn on Valentine's Day with specific words in mind.

Tradition Rated G, ~2400 words Dream shares his time and Hob shares his stories, and together they are maybe sharing something else.

[iniziare]

Hi! I download your newest Photoshop 2024 two nights ago, and it's saying there is only a 5 day grace period before it uninstalls itself if I don't license it. I thought this was meant to be free, so did something happen when the file was created or did I misunderstand what is going on with this?

Update, please have a look at this updated fix/post!

Hi there!! My apologies for posting this publicly, instead of answering you privately, but I just want to be able to make sure that if anyone else runs into this issue, that they easily have access to the fix. Now, this hasn't happened to me at present after numerous days of consistent use, nor have I heard of anyone else running into it, but I am aware that it can happen, but the fix is actually quite simple (I had to do this for a previous version). Okay, this involves a little bit of navigating and tinkering in Windows, but I'll run you through it, don't worry.

In essence what happened is that Photoshop was able to connect to the Adobe servers, where it verified itself through an automated process, and realized it wasn't quite activated yet. This is nothing concerning, and is something that us little pirates have had to deal with for years without any issue at the backhand. So the simple, very old, and private solution to this is to not let Photoshop connect to the internet at all (this will not limit it in any way), and accomplishing that is simple enough. Before you go through these steps however, please uninstall Photoshop, and reinstall it (ideally in a slightly different location, even if it's in a subfolder.) After that, here, let me run you through the steps!

Step 1. Do a search for 'Windows Defender', and click 'Windows Defender Firewall' when it pops up as a search result. When the window pops up, navigate to the left-hand side and select 'Advanced settings', like below:

Step 2. In the new window, click 'Outbound rules' to the left-hand side, and then 'New rule' on the right-hand side immediately after:

Step 3. Another window will pop up, and in the options given to you, select 'Program', and then, do you remember when you first installed Photoshop? Navigate to that folder, and you'll find the according application file called 'Photoshop' with its usual little icon on the left. To help you, the default path (where I have it installed) is as shown underneath, including the file you should select:

Step 4. Select the file, hit 'Open' in the bottom-right, hit 'Next', and make sure that you then select 'Block this connection'. On the next screen, it'll ask you when the rule should be applied and all options should be checked, if they are not, be sure to check them. You can name this rule however you want on the next screen, it won't matter! Hit 'Finish', and all should be fine from hereon out!

If you run into any problems with any of these steps, let me know, or leave me a little DM and I'll be happy to help!! I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. <3 Have a lovely night!!

[goyardgoyangi]

𐙚 busy woman pt. 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⌗ pairings: eren x reader, slight! erwin x reader

⌗ summary: you don’t believe in fate, but you do believe in probability. the odds of running into a stupidly attractive guy at a highly competitive internship interview? low. the odds of him rejecting you? …higher. the odds of ending up in the same program — and on the same project team after all that? practically zero. and yet, here you are.

�� word count: 1.4k

♥ pt. 3 ♥ masterlist ♥

You keep your head down during the remainder of orientation, pretending to be deeply fascinated by the welcome folder in front of you. The company logo, the neatly organized internship schedule, the overly enthusiastic "Welcome to Amazon!" message— all of it is infinitely more appealing than the possibility of accidentally making eye contact with him again.

Eren Yeager.

Your first real rejection of the year. Over 200 resumes and internship applications sent, countless hours of cold calling, but nothing stung quite like his.

The same guy you had foolishly, delusionally asked out after your interview. And now, by some cruel joke of the universe, he’s sitting just a few tables away, existing in your professional space like a bad omen.

You steal a glance in his direction. He’s leaning back in his chair, lazily spinning a company-branded pen between his fingers, looking completely unbothered. Meanwhile, you feel like you’re on the verge of overheating.

It’s fine. You’ll just avoid him for the next three months. Simple.

That delusion lasts for approximately five minutes.

“Alright, let’s get you all into your project teams!” the program manager announces with a bright smile.

You hold your breath. Please, no. Please, no.

Names are called, groups are formed, and then—

"Eren Yeager,

The rest of the names blur into static.

You don’t move at first, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you misheard. That your brain, fried from years of caffeine abuse and late-night study sessions, is simply playing tricks on you. Maybe all those Celsius energy drinks finally did you in, and this is just some sort of fever dream.

Or, better yet, maybe this is an opportunity. You could file a lawsuit claiming that excessive caffeine consumption has caused you to hallucinate a really hot guy who rejected you without a second glance, and Amazon is complicit. Emotional damages, mental distress— hell, you could probably milk it for enough settlement money to put a dent in your student loans.

But then you hear the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and your delusions of denial crumble.

You look up.

Eren is pushing himself up from his seat, tilting his neck from side to side to relieve tension— from what? Holding up his annoyingly beautiful head? It’s unfair, really. Even his neck is attractive. You try not to stare, irrationally envious of whatever lucky girl will get to kiss that neck, rest her head against it, run her fingers through his perfectly long, tousled hair,

Nope. Not going there.

And then he starts making his way toward the assigned table.

You wish a freak power outage would strike the building right now— it is Washington, after all. Would the damn rainy weather finally work in your favor for once?

But with a deep breath, you gather your things and force yourself to follow. You’re an adult. A professional. You will notlet some pretty boy ruin this for you.

You take a seat across from him, avoiding his gaze as introductions begin. Names, majors, eager smiles— interns all fresh-faced and ready to climb the corporate ladder. You do the same, maintaining the facade of someone who is totally, definitely not having an internal crisis.

But you can feel it. His eyes on you. Like he’s only just now registering your existence.

And then, finally—

“Huh.”

The noise is barely more than a breath, but it snaps your focus to him before you can stop yourself.

“Huh?” You respond instinctively, confirming your existence to the very man who rejected you with less warmth than the average LinkedIn recruiter. Fuck.

He tilts his head slightly towards you, green eyes scanning your face as if trying to place you in a different context. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His tone isn’t mocking. If anything, it’s just... casual. Which somehow makes it worse.

You force a polite smile. “Yeah. Funny how that worked out.”

“Yeah,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “Really funny.”

He doesn’t sound amused at all.

The team lead starts talking, outlining project expectations and assigning initial tasks. You nod along, take notes, throw yourself into the discussion. But every so often, out of the corner of your eye, you catch him looking at you.

Like he’s still trying to piece together how you ended up here.

And maybe you are too.

The first week of the internship is a blur of onboarding meetings, technical trainings, and awkward team introductions. You keep your head up the best you can, focusing on your work and doing your best to pretend Eren Yeager doesn’t exist.

It’s easier said than done.

For one, he’s annoyingly good at what he does. While everyone else is still figuring out the company’s internal tools, he’s already breezing through code reviews, making small tweaks like he’s been here for years. It’s frustrating. But what’s more frustrating is the way everyone seems to gravitate toward him. The other interns in your group (especially the girls) loudly laugh at his dry humor, lean in when he talks, and nod a little too eagerly at his suggestions.

You? You do the opposite. You keep conversations strictly professional, responding to him only when necessary, ignoring the way his deep voice somehow cuts through all the background noise.

And, for the most part, it works.

Until Friday.

Your team decides to grab lunch together after a morning of back-to-back meetings. You consider skipping, making up some excuse about needing to catch up on work, but you don’t want to seem antisocial—not yet, at least. It’s only the first week, and burning that card too early would be a rookie mistake. Better to save it for when projects ramp up and you actually need to lock in.

Besides, you’re not just here to sharpen your technical skills. Networking is just as valuable (if not more), according to every career advisor who has ever haunted your inbox with “friendly reminders” about the importance of building connections in the workplace! So you tag along, telling yourself it’s the smart move.

And it is. It would be. If it weren’t for him.

You start strategizing, surveying the seating arrangements like a war general preparing for battle. The Art of War, internship edition. You claim a spot at the far end of the table, strategically positioning yourself between the most talkative team members so that maybe, just maybe, you can make it through lunch without having to interact with him.

That’s the plan. The mission. And you’re really, really hoping it doesn’t fail.

Again—easier said than done.

“So,” one of the interns, Sasha, says, pointing her chopsticks at you. “You guys knew each other before this, right?”

You nearly choke on your food. “What?”

She glances between you and Eren, who’s seated diagonally across from you, picking at his rice bowl with a bored expression. “You both interviewed on the same day, didn’t you?”

You hesitate. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Sasha grins. “That’s so cute! Like, fate or something.”

You let out a strained laugh. “More like unfortunate probability.”

Eren finally looks up at you, amusement flickering in his green eyes. “You don’t believe in fate?”

You grip your chopsticks tighter. “I believe in statistics.”

“Huh.” He tilts his head. “Then what are the odds of you asking me out after the interview and us ending up here?”

Your stomach drops.

The table falls silent.

You want to die.

Sasha’s eyes go wide. Another intern, Jean, lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That happened?”

You open your mouth, then close it. You should lie. Deny, deny, deny. But you can already feel the heat creeping up your neck, the betrayal of your own body giving you away before you can make up an excuse.

Eren, the absolute menace, just smirks.

Well, as they say, the truth will set you free. For better or worse, with no perfectly rehearsed answer from your imaginary shower monologues, you do your best to improvise. “I was feeling bold,” you say finally, forcing a casual shrug. “Didn’t expect to see him again, so I figured why not?”

Sasha gasps, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Wait, that’s actually so badass.”

Eren hums. “Yeah. Ballsy move.”

You shoot him a glare, but he just pops a piece of chicken into his mouth like he hasn’t just obliterated your entire sense of dignity with one sentence.

The conversation finally shifts after that, but you can feel his gaze still lingering on you, a second longer than necessary before he looks away.

For the rest of lunch, you sulk to yourself. Fuck the career center, you should’ve just stayed in the office. And if fate was actually real, fuck her too.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

So to make a long story semi short; during fall term a couple unknowing found a set of mastodon teeth and brought to my anthropology professor at the college, since then they conducted some field work and found more bone. They obviously stopped because of winter but in summer the college will be offering a field work class to go help at the site. I want to do that, but as mentioned before I have Cerebral Palsy which means I don't have a lot of upper body strength or flexibility. But I can still do a lot. My I guess problem is my Professors respect me and that's hard for me to get with all the ableism and I worked hard these last two semesters to break out of my shell to get here , I guess I just don't want to 1. make a fool of myself 2. be a hindrance and/or mess something up

any advice?

This sounds like an incredible opportunity, and I would definitely encourage you to pursue it! I hear your concerns about embarrassing yourself and being a hindrance, but I think you should reframe your thinking around facts that 1) everybody deserves learning experiences regardless of their physical ability, and 2) there are things you can do that will be an asset to the excavation.

Some of these things include taking notes and photographs, documenting and storing finds, and working with any digital tools like GPS units. You may also be able to do lab work and different kinds of analysis, depending on what they find and how they run the program. A good supervisor (although not all are created equal) will be willing to work with you to come up with a plan for how you can participate and what that will look like.

Usually, classes like this have applications where students list their relevant coursework and write a brief personal statement about why they want to participate. There are a couple of ways you could go about this in regards to disclosing your disability and seeking accommodations. You can either:

Disclose early: this would entail including something about your disability in your personal statement, in an email to the professor running the dig, etc.

Disclose later: submit your application without mentioning your disability. Feel free to mention how hard you've worked to get where you are, and if you want to talk about vague challenges with your health as part of that, it's up to you. If you are accepted to the dig, ask for a meeting with the supervisor where you can then explain your needs and what you are able to do.

Generally, I advise erring on the side of disclosing later rather than earlier. As I'm sure you're aware, prejudice and implicit bias are unfortunately a thing, and sometimes the only way to protect yourself from those impeding your application is to withhold information (although obviously this isn't an option if the professor already knows you). Additionally, you have legal protections against discrimination that are much easier to enforce after you have been accepted.

That being said, I've been heartened to see that more and more people in archaeology spaces are thinking about what accessibility means in field settings and how to include people with disabilities.—perhaps this is also the case with whoever is running this dig. Archaeology is for everyone, and there are many roles in an excavation for someone who can't do physical labor.

Finally, I'll close with some resources that might be helpful.

The Disabled Archaeologists Network: while I don't think they have a ton of programming for undergraduates (yet), membership is free and can put you in touch with

Field Tested: an article about a disabled student who was able to participate in a geology field school (similar levels of work to an archaeology one). It discusses some of the accommodations the student needed, and what they were able to do.

Here's an article by Dr. Anita Marshall, the professor who ran that accessible field school. Its content isn't substantially different from the one I linked above, but at the end it also cites some good literature about accessibility in field work. You should be able to access a lot of those publications through your institution's library or @jstor's free (or institutional) service.

Good luck, -Reid

[mariacallous]

For decades, new parents across the United States have been able to check a box on hospital forms in order to request Social Security numbers for their newborns.

That’s no longer the case in Maine, where parents will have to visit a Social Security field office thanks to a shocking move by President Donald Trump’s administration.

A spokesperson for the Maine Department of Health and Human Services told HuffPost on Thursday that the Social Security Administration said it had canceled two contracts with Maine’s vital statistics program that support Social Security’s electronic “enumeration at birth” program.

“As a result of SSA’s contract termination, effective immediately, Maine hospitals are no longer able to enroll newborns into Social Security at the time of birth so parents will now need to visit their local Social Security office to apply in-person for their child’s Social Security Number,” the Maine DHHS spokesperson said in an email.

No justification has been given for the change, which was first reported by the Portland Press Herald. The Social Security Administration and the White House did not immediately respond to requests for comment from HuffPost.

It’s likely the contracts were canceled at the direction of Elon Musk’s “Department of Government Efficiency” service, which has ripped through the federal government in search of savings. Leeland Dudek, the acting commissioner of the Social Security Administration, recently told senior agency staff this week they had to let DOGE run amok.

“DOGE people are learning and they will make mistakes, but we have to let them see what is going on at SSA,” Dudek told the group, according to notes of the meeting obtained by The Washington Post. “I am relying on longtime career people to inform my work, but I am receiving decisions that are made without my input. I have to effectuate those decisions.”

Dudek previously announced the SSA would undergo a “massive” reorganization with significant job cuts. Martin O’Malley, who led the agency under former President Joe Biden, told HuffPost this week the cuts to the agency could cause it to miss benefit payments to millions of people at some point; more than 50 million seniors rely on Social Security’s retirement insurance program.

The Social Security Administration rolled out enumeration at birth in the late 1980s, allowing parents only to check a box on state birth forms at the hospital to get their newborn a Social Security number. The program has been available in all 50 states since 1997, and 99% of people now get their Social Security numbers that way, according to the Social Security Administration.

Parents typically need Social Security numbers for their children in order to obtain medical coverage, open a bank account or obtain government services. A pamphlet on the Social Security Administration’s website explains the simple process.

“When you complete the application for your baby’s birth certificate, you will be asked whether you want to apply for an SSN for your baby,” the pamphlet says. “If you say ‘yes,’ you will be asked to provide both parents’ SSNs. If you don’t know both parents’ SSNs, you still can apply for your child’s SSN.”

Since taking office in January, Trump has empowered Musk, the world’s richest man, to try to slash federal bureaucracies and fire workers. Musk’s team has targeted government contracts that Musk has described as wasteful.

It’s not clear if Musk’s young DOGE deputies thought the SSA contracts with Maine’s government were wasteful, or if they were canceled by accident. Musk has admitted making mistakes; the DOGE website has repeatedly posted incorrect information about money saved from canceled contracts.

The DOGE “wall of receipts” says it canceled six “enumeration at birth contracts” between the Social Security administration and five states, plus the Northern Mariana Islands, a U.S. territory in the Pacific Ocean. Maine does not appear to be on the list, however.

The DOGE website suggests Musk’s team has been trying to cancel the contracts partially ― only to the extent they result in the collection of race and ethnicity information, which DOGE considers an example of “DEI,” or diversity, equity and inclusion. The form reflecting the termination of an enumeration contract in Arizona, for instance, says, “Partial termination of the Race and Ethnicity (RE) records requirement.” The DOGE site says, “Only the DEI values are included” in the dollar amount saved.

Trump has also feuded with Maine’s governor for refusing to play along with Trump’s directive to disallow transgender athletes in girls’ sports.

Maine Gov. Janet Mills, a Democrat, told Trump she would ��see you in court” over the girls’ sports directive during a recent meeting between governors and the president in Washington, D.C. Trump then threatened to withhold all federal funding from Maine.

[outerwilds-events]

Well, Campfire Fest was an absolute blast. We had 18 participants and 65 submissions. This is a huge accomplishment that all of you made together! Thanks again to everyone who participated, it wouldn't have been such a great event without you. Major kudos to @noofl, @poisonhemloc, and @sawyer-is-eepy for submitting something for every day of the fest week during fest!

Honorable mention to @unnamedpebble for submitting something for every day of the fest week with the late submission period. Links to each days works are below the cut. If you haven't had the chance to peruse everything you really should. Everyone did such a great job and I continue to be so impressed with how talented this fandom is.

Be on the look out for more information on mod applications and on the winter event!

Day 1: Hourglass Twins, Angst, Slate, Locating the Eye

Tugging the Tether by @sawyer-is-eepy (fic)

Hour Glass Twins Warp Tower by @660percent (art)

Okay Maybe There Was One Death From The Space Program by @poisonhemloc (fic)

A Ship In Need of Repair by @carolkinopf (comic)

Bitter Medicine by @noofl (comic)

broken window by @tippertot (fic)

Campfire Fest 2024 Day 1 by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Assurances by @merrydock (fic)

The Arrow of Time by @spitzyyyy (fic)

dropped in a canyon (help has now arrived) by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

Post Feldspar's Disparition Slate by @unnamedpebble (art)

Time Stops for No One by SpaceMange (fic)

Day 2: Timber Hearth, Fluff, Hornfels, Music

Revelations by @sawyer-is-eepy (poem)

Hornfels - The Astronomer by @unnamedpebble (art)

What if Hornfels Didn't Know How to Whistle by @noofl (comic)

If You're Going to Play around a Campfire (You gotta have a Fiddle in the Band) by @poisonhemloc (fic)

Technically Kazoos are after Mirlitons Timeline-wise But by @poisonhemloc (fic)

a favorite of the formerly deceased by @spitzyyyy (fic)

Campfire Fest 2024 Day 2 by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Child of the Stars by spacemange (fic)

Artistry by @merrydock (fic)

anti-fall tarp by @tksfandomhellhole

Day 3: Brittle Hollow, Hurt/Comfort, Gossan, Warp

Gossan by @unnamedpebble (art)

Gossan by @noofl (art)

Good Thing No One is Watching the Black Hole and About to Freak Out by @poisonhemloc (fic)

Brittle Hollow/Warp by @660percent (art)

warp to me by @tippertot (fic)

Untitled by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

Campfire Fest 2024 Day 3 by @jellyfish-grave (art)

you're lucky they won't remember this by @spitzyyyy (fic)

Day 4: Giant’s Deep, Humor, Prophy, Sap Wine

Porphy and the Good Stuff by @cobaltbluesu (art)

Small Doodle by @noofl (comic)

This is a Speed Running Strat by @poisonhemloc (fic)

it do go down by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

Porphy Tasting their Favorite Batch of Sapwine by @unnamedpebble (art)

Humor, Porphy, Sapwine by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Behold! Sapwine! by @sawyer-is-eepy (comic)

Reflection under stormy green skies by CrimsonQuill086 (fic)

Thanks for Being my Time Buddy by SpaceMange (fic)

Day 5: Dark Bramble, Horror, Solanum, Ghost Matter

Noooo Hatchy by @unnamedpebble (art)

Our Friend with Ghostmatter by @noofl (art)

I Like to Think They are More Salamanders Than Fish by @poisonhemloc (fic)

The Horrors of Basic Biology by @tippertot (fic)

Solanum by @jellyfish-grave (comic)

Horror by @sawyer-is-eepy (comic)

Horror by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

The Day After the End of the World by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

Day 6: Space Station, Romance, Hal, Time Loop

White Hole Station by @unnamedpebble (art)

Hal and the Hatchling by @noofl (art)

Space Station by @660percent (art)

Space Station, Hal, Time Loop by @lutiaskokopelli (art)

River Chats by @poisonhemloc (fic)

If You Can't Talk Someone into Being Your Weighted Blanket Homemade is Fine by @poisonhemloc (fic)

Romance by @2isted-chocol8-art (comic)

Hal the Pal by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

My future is in the forest of the stars by CrimsonQuillo86 (fic)

Day 7: Open Prompts

Time Buddies for the Soul by @unnamedpebble (art)

Don't Worry Guys They're All Fine by @noofl (comic)

Trailblazer 1 by @cobaltbluesu (comic)

Just a Weird AU Started by a Fall Out Boy Song by Fallout Boy (@poisonhemloc) (fic)

Universe by @2isted-chocol8-art (art)

Let's Walk Together by @jellyfish-grave (art)

Final Day by @eldritchcats (art)

Good-bye Campfire Fest by @sawyer-is-eepy (art)

The Divergence Hypothesis by @tksfandomhellhole (fic)

[illmoraineakoi]

Theory: Victim was never actually deleted or killed.

The Flash project being closed without saving didn't do anything to him because his file had already been saved automatically the moment he was created.

Why do I think this?

Because that's what happened with Chosen.

We never see Alan save the Flash document he made The Chosen One in. Nor Dark's, nor Orange's. But that doesn't matter, because is seems Flash automatically saves a stick figure's .EXE into it's own directories, under a "Players" folder, which itself contains a folder specifically for stick figures.

This likely happens the moment the stick figure is named and turned into a symbol, as a part of the process of turning that stick figure into a symbol, or "Player".

Which is a process Victim did go through.

The original document he was created on didn't matter.

He already existed. He was already an external .EXE process functioning outside of that specific document. The only thing closing Flash might have done is shut his process down, but his file was still there, just like any other normal execrable file.

And I'm not even certain that would've happened, because it doesn't seem to matter if Flash/Animate is open for the sticks to exist and function on their own. This leads me to think that each stick figure is it's own executable/application process, which runs separate from any other program or application, even if they were originally created on or apart of one.

And AVA4 heavily implies this too:

The each have their own processes the computer is handling individually. Orange's is completely separate from Flash's. Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow's processes are separate from Chrome. And so are the Facebook stickers, strangely enough.

[Also something I never noticed: Avast is running during AvA4. But it hasn't detected the stick figures or taken any action to defend the computer against them. This might possibly because Alan hasn't specifically run a scan; Chosen hadn't been automatically detected until he made Avast run a scan. Avast is one of the strangest parts of AvA canon I s2g.]

We never actually see Victim die or disappear or even the Flash program closing, in AvA 1. It ends immediately after "No" is clicked, which leaves the viewer with the implication and the assumption that closing the program has ended Victim's life. And for a majority of AvA's history, that implication was likely true, and what Alan originally intended, back when he made it.

But that implication is now wrong, leaving how Victim survived a mystery that will (hopefully) be answered Saturday.

But the fact that it does end so suddenly without showing anything has left the door open for so many possibilities, and I don't think it's out of the question that things continued even after Flash was closed, things AvA 1 never showed. I think it's possible that Flash closed, but Victim remained on the desktop, and continued the fight until he was gotten rid of or even escaped in a totally different way.

Alan closing Victim's project without saving did nothing to him.

(The same cannot be said for Victim's clones, which likely did rely on Flash to continue to exist. They were copies of his own symbol Victim had pulled into the project from the Library, so Flash had likely been treating them as aspects of that project, as much as everything else Alan had drawn. While it could technically be possible for Victim's clones to have had their own files that were made when Victim pulled them down, much like Purple's clones were files in AvLoL, I doubt it. I feel like it's much more likely they were handled by Flash itself.)

[affluent-havoc]

Free Time

Free Day

And now it is time for you're regularly scheduled programming of "Introverted Artist Blabbers About Their Work While Slightly Showing Signs of Instability (the fun kind??)"

Free Time - Decided to try and stage this one as if they were actually hanging out during the FTE's in the game with obvious embellishes here and there. Byakuya wasn't canonically reading the "Introvert's Guide: How to flirt with very cute boys" which just makes me think of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy but gay/hj Side note, though I am aware of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, I am only aware that it is a book and I have only watched the movie and it was when I was a kid so I don't remember much of it besides one scene in the movie with a rock monster that was a reference to that one bad Star Trek film with William Shatner and because of how exhaused I am from these pieces and probably just this week as a whole, the only thing I can think of now is "Ha ha Shatner has the word "Shat" in it". I cannot be salvaged ;-; AHEM... I got on a tangent. So, some other thoughts I have about this one is that I'm happy with the heir's expression. It's giving me the very specific feeling that he's glancing at the book a few times before glancing at Makoto before mentally spouting something along the line of "Erm, I don't think this very applicable to my life". That just cracks me up. What an idiot. Free Day - Staged this one as if they were having a free day to themselves instead of the literal meaning of it being the free day for the prompt. Thus, this one's more domestic. They're marathoning bad movies by the way. Cus I say so and good bad movies are awesome. So many good options too. For instance, maybe it's a classic like "The Room" or maybe something more obscure like 2006 movie "Dream Home". Maybe even one of the many assortments of terrible animated films. What matters though is that they're being cute and do the cuddles. Also, I can also see this drawing maybe be them not watching a movie or TV of some sorts but maybe just conversing to one another as well. That also fits too! Some other things I wish to say is that I'm really proud of their expressions here. I feel I did them well though I really wish I could do a thinner line art style that was a lot more loose. Due to my set up, there's no way I can really accomplish that since what I'd want involves a lot of variation in the line weight to add to the softness of the image. Another thing is, as for why I like their expressions, I feel it tells a cute story. Like, Makoto's a lot more of an open person so he's laughing freely without shame while Byakuya looks like he's trying his hardest to hide his expression even in the comfort of Makoto, his favorite dude! His buddy 'ol pal 'ol friend. Also, holy crap. Why is Makoto absolutely rocking that jean jacket? Like, he's rocking it so well in my eyes and I love it. Think this is a sign I gotta draw Makoto in more jean jackets.

Edit: Oh my gosh. There are so many run on sentences here. How on earth am I an inspiring author???

[codingquill]

What is the kernel of an operating system ?

You can think of the kernel as the core component of an operating system, just like the CPU is the core component of a computer. The kernel of an operating system, such as the Linux kernel, is responsible for managing system resources ( such as the CPU, memory, and devices ) . The kernel of an operating system is not a physical entity that can be seen. It is a computer program that resides in memory.

Key points to understand the relationship between the kernel and the OS:

The kernel acts as the intermediary between the hardware and the software layers of the system. It provides a layer of abstraction that allows software applications to interact with the hardware without needing to understand the low-level details of the hardware

The kernel controls and manages system resources such as the CPU, memory, devices, and file systems. It ensures that these resources are allocated and utilized efficiently by different processes and applications running on the system.

The kernel handles tasks like process scheduling, memory management, device drivers, file system access, and handling interrupts from hardware devices.

The kernel can be extended through the use of loadable kernel modules (LKM). LKMs allow for the addition of new functionality or device drivers without modifying the kernel itself.

[parowanormal]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ computer specs explained - processors ˖ ݁݁ 𖥔.

shopping for a laptop (or determining what your laptop can do) can be confusing. even as a computer science major, it took me a long time to get familiar with all of it! in this series, i'm breaking down each term, number, and specification, so you can determine what's best for you.

if you have more specific questions, my askbox is open, or feel free to send me a DM. let's talk processors!

what does the processor do?

the processor (also called the CPU) is the brain of a computer. it executes all the instructions needed to run applications. your internet browser, video editing software, games, and messaging apps are all managed by your processor. the code that makes them run is sent to your processor piece by piece, and the processor executes all of them simultaneously. it's the most important part of your computer!

what do the numbers mean?

two things determine how well your processor will perform: number of cores and clock speed. these numbers are often thrown all together when talking about the processor: e.g., "AMD Ryzen 7 7730U 2.0GHz Processor". AMD is the brand, Ryzen 7 7730U is the specific model, and 2.0GHz is the clock speed.

the number of cores determines how many of those individual instructions the computer can run at once. in other words, it's how much "brain space" your processor has. more cores means your computer can run more complicated programs.

each core may have 1 or 2 threads, which divide the core into pieces to run smaller programs more efficiently. a complicated program may need multiple threads or multiple cores, but simple programs can fit onto a single thread of a single core.

the clock speed is measured in gigahertz (GHz), which you may recognize as a frequency measurement. without getting too much into how processors work, the clock speed indicates how quickly your computer can execute instructions. it has to do with how quickly electrical pulses are sent through the CPU.

most CPUs have at least 4 cores and a clock speed of around 2.0GHz. modern Intel brand processors have two types of core: higher clock speed "P-cores" (for performance), and lower clock speed "E-cores" (for efficiency). in this case, the important number of cores to look at are the P-cores; more E-cores will just mean your machine is better at multi-tasking.

rowan recommends...

...as much processor as you'll realistically use. don't spend a lot on a powerful processor if you only surf the web, and don't try to cut corners if you like to play games or use video editing software.

there are two major CPU manufacturers: Intel and AMD. i've only personally used Intel CPUs, but most people won't notice the difference between an Intel and an AMD. if you're choosing between two similarly priced processors, choose the one with a higher clock speed.

for surfing the web, word processors, and small apps like Discord or Spotify: an Intel i3/AMD Ryzen 3 is perfectly fine.

for simple programming, music production, or games like Minecraft or Stardew Valley: choose an Intel i5/AMD Ryzen 5 with a clock speed of at least 2.0GHz.

for video editing, rendering, 3D modeling, complex programming, or high-performance games: an Intel i7 or i9, or an AMD Ryzen 7, with as high of a clock speed as you can afford.

thanks for reading and good luck! again, if you have specific questions, feel free to ask a question or DM. :3

next in series: memory