#as I said I needed to get it out of my system

[gwydionmisha]

My parents did it similarly, though not entirely the same as the OP (I'm an Xer) and I absolutely agree with their conclusions. I can not stress enough how good the explain why thing is.

We were expected to stop if an adult yelled stop. We could ask why after, but generally, there was a very good reason, like a car was coming. (We did do logical consequences, like throw a tantrum and we leave, so you don't get to do the thing we were going to do. Scream in the restaurant, and we don't get to eat in the restaurant. That sort of thing).

The answers to why made sense. It gave us the idea that rules had reasons and you should think about reasons before deciding to break one.

We had a process for rules changes. We could go and say, "I think this rule should be changed, and here's why." We could then make a case for it using reason and wherever possible evidence. They would discuss it and get back to us, usually in a day or two, never longer than a week. They might change the rule. They might offer a compromise or a negotiation towards a compromise. They might say, "We think you're a little too young, ask again in a year." They might say no and here's why. At which point there was a chance for a counter argument. If that failed wait a year and try again.

This is a far better preparation for adulthood than because I said and violent punishment. Sure, I would break rules now and then, but I always did it with forethought, weighing reasons and risks and consequences. If caught, I could explain why. Ex.: "I snuck out because a friend was at a party turning ugly and I went to take them home." I avoided a lot of stupid and dangerous behavior my friends and relatives my age got into because they were stuck in a punishment and rebellion cycle with their parents or parent. (I wasn't an angel, but every rule I broke was something I decided was worth it after thinking it through).

My parent's relationship style of discussing things calmly and negotiating solutions with each other served me pretty well in my own dating life, as did the fundamental sense that we were all on one team, working together as a family to achieve goals and solve problems. If you are all on one side, you don't fight to win or fight to hurt the other person; instead you negotiate to get your needs met and to make sure everyone can live with the outcome whether the issue is dishes or not having enough money for the electric bill or big life questions.

It also is way better prep for living in a Democracy. I think the reasons why are pretty obvious. Rational argumentation and negotiation is a way healthier approach to government than the one authoritarian parenting sets you up for. It's good to question the whys of rules and systems in place and if they aren't working, look for ways to fix them. Preferably as a group.

Because we do better as a group when we are all trying to improve things instead of putting all our energy into winning or hurting the other person.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - February 1-7

(sorry it’s late, I’ve had pneumonia. between fever and meds, today was the first day in over a week I could even think)

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. These solar streetlights can withstand Category 5 hurricanes

“[The solar-powered streetlights] can identify potential problems before an outage occurs, identify current outages without the need for customer reporting, and allow for remote control of brightness settings. The streetlights are built to remain operational even during widespread power outages.”

2. 15 Democratic state AGs stand by gender-affirming care

“"Federal funding to institutions that provide gender-affirming care continues to be available, irrespective of President Trump’s recent Executive Order," the attorneys general say. […] “Health care decisions should be made by patients, families, and doctors, not by a politician trying to use his power to restrict your freedoms.”

3. India doubles tiger population in a decade

“[India has protected] the big cats from poaching and habitat loss, ensuring they have enough prey, reducing human-wildlife conflict, and increasing living standards for communities near tiger areas.”

4. A North Carolina wildlife crossing will save people. Can it save the last wild red wolves too?

“There are thought to be fewer than 20 red wolves left in the wild[…. S]tate agencies and nonprofit groups [plan to] rebuild a 2.5-mile section of the highway with fencing and a series of culverts, or small underpasses, to allow red wolves – as well as black bears, white-tailed deer and other animals – to pass safely underneath traffic.”

5. Merrimack Valley public transit system will keep bus fares free

“[… C]ollecting fares [used to] cost MeVa about $300,000 a year to maintain fare boxes, pay staffers and afford insurance. Since going fare free in 2022, the report found ridership increased 60% from pre-pandemic levels[….] The program is now funded by state allocated funds, including money from the so called “millionaire’s tax.””

6. Health care is key for youths getting out of prison. A new law helps them get it

“[The new law] requires all states to provide medical and dental screenings to Medicaid- and CHIP-eligible youths 30 days before or immediately after they leave a correctional facility. Youths must continue to receive case management services for 30 days after their release.”

7. World’s smallest otter makes comeback in Nepal after 185 years

“Scientists have for the first time in 185 years confirmed the presence of the Asian small-clawed otter in Nepal[….] The last time the […] the smallest of the world’s 13 known otter species, was recorded by scientists in Nepal was in 1839.”

8. B.C.'s smallest First Nation has big plans for a 'stewardship' economy

“The Kwiakah Centre of Excellence will be the base for a dedicated research station, an experimental kelp farm, the nation’s regenerative forestry operations and its territorial Indigenous guardian, or Forest Keepers, program[…. R]esults will include a 100-year management plan that integrates climate, salmon, kelp, and soil research to protect territorial waters and remaining old growth forests.”

9. Glades County schools deploy 13 new Blue Bird electric school buses

“The students at the Glades County school district will directly benefit from the cleaner, quieter rides, and operational cost savings that electric school buses provide[, as well as] the addition of much-needed air conditioning in the new school buses. Until now, only three buses in the district provided air conditioning[….]”

10. e.l.f. Beauty CEO defends DEI: 'Our diversity is a key competitive advantage'

“The cosmetics company recently held that it would not nix its DEI initiatives[….] "Our mission is to make the best of beauty accessible to every eye, lip and face," [CEO] Amin said. "One of the best ways we know how to live that mission is to have an employee base that reflects the community that we serve."”

January 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[kiyzukiy]

Cat distribution system

Sypnosis: Life is hard as it is, so all we all wish for is some comfort in a furry friend. No one accounted for life playing funny tricks so what would happen if you find Caleb in a trash dumpster?

Tags: reader x Caleb, fluff, Cat!Caleb, crack?, funny (hopefully)

A/N: I got inspired by another fic I found on here with a similar flow. If anybody knows what I'm talking about please tag that person. I don't want to disregard any original ideas! >.<

As always, if I missed any tags please tell me.

Word count: 4.8k

I hope you enjoy <3

Divider by me

You groan as you stretch yourself out. Sitting too long is always such a hassle. Tired bones and you felt like your muscles have calcified. If you wouldn't have moved now someone could have mistaken you for a stone statue the way you were perched at your work desk and scrolled endlessly through files. 

Doesn't matter now though. The clock finally releasing you from your workload. Tomorrow was also a day and the files wouldn't suddenly grow legs and run away. No need to do overtime today. 

You rubbed your face. Trying to shake off your exhaustion and slowly blinking the dryness in your eyes away. One more stretch that let out a satisfying crack in your back and you stood up. Packing your things together and making sure that this time you also took your thermal mug with you. Waving your coworkers goodbye you made your way home. Head already in the clouds with your game. Planning your time out of doing your dailies and just admiring your favourite fictional man. A pity that they don’t build men like that in real life.

The chill evening air hitting your face made you shiver the first step you took outside. Cuddling up in your coat and wrapping your scarf up just a tad higher you began your track home. 

Fuck it's cold, you think to yourself. When would spring arrive and you didn't have to be out in this freezing weather anymore? Don't get me wrong, winter is something beautiful and when the snow hits the landscape it was akin to a fairy tale setting. The sunsets even more stunning with the low light and making everything glisten. Colours spreading over the horizon in deep violet and heartwarming orange. Frozen over roads just a bit slippery which made your way to work a small adventure when you played the game “do I land on my bum today or not?”. But enough was enough. 

You wanted the sun back in your days having had your fill with this gloomy grey cloudscape. Waking up when it was still dark out and going home when night greets you again was draining more of your energy than you liked to admit. What made matters worse wasn't even that it didn’t affect only you, but that the melancholic and cold atmosphere was spreading slowly over to the people around you. It was in the way minor inconveniences would grate the nerves of your colleagues or the small tick of the jaw of your boss. The forced smile in service people who normally would make it seem genuine. Point was: everyone was fed up and ready for the seasons to change. When was the last time you saw the sun actually? Was it last October? Two weeks ago? You don't remember anymore. Just- just a long time ago. Pretty sure. Maybe you were a bit dramatic but all you wanted was to feel the warmth again and getting your vitamin D in. 

A rustle next to you snapped you out of your self-pitying lament. Confused you turned your head to the right. Nothing. Just a dark alley. A car passed you by on your left, shortly illuminating a sliver of said alley. A dumpster could be made out but nothing exciting. You shrugged your shoulders and took one step, but another rustle stopped you once more. A sigh left you. Would you really go investigate? You swore this is how the stupid character out of a horror movie always died. This exact way but the curiosity in your mind and veins tried their very best to lure you into that alley to go look. One peak wouldn't hurt right? A man who wanted to drag you into it would have done it by now. There wouldn't be a more perfect chance than right now. The way you stood there like a fine lady in bewilderment. 

This is what you get when you forget the one time your headphones at home. If it would be any other day, you would have continued on. Having passed this particular alley countless times and in daylight it wouldn’t be as scary as it was in this instance. Hopping from one foot to the other, you were uncertain. Would you really? You also could just…leave. Never finding out and always wondering. Spending sleepless nights wondering what could have been in this very alley that made these rustling noises. Or you would forget about it as soon as tomorrow morning came. Maybe it was just the wind that blew over a leaf or bag. On the other hand this could be a cool story you could tell your friends about. Or you could get mugged. 

Alright fuck it. You go. Otherwise you would stand out here in the cold for the next ten minutes pondering about if this decision will have negative consequences on your life. 

Tentatively you took one step into the alley. Instantly your common sense kicked in and pressed adrenaline into your veins. My god, this is the way you would die. Mentally have written your testament and who you would leave behind what you took another step. 

“Hello?”, you asked hesitantly into the night. Frustrated with yourself you grunted. Naturally a serial killer would answer you out of the alley with “yes, behind this dark corner. I made sandwiches, you want one?”. 

You had half a mind just turning back around again, but as if on cue another rustle. This time followed with a bang out of the dumpster. You let out a breath of relief. Oh by the gods, it was just a stray animal…or was it? Nevertheless the strong grip of fear that held your breathing back let a bit loose and you made your way to the dumpster with sure steps. 

Your heart clenched in your chest at the thought that maybe an unlucky racoon got trapped in the dumpster and would meet an unsightly end in one of the waste disposal sites. Without a second thought you opened it and peered inside. Barely enough light from the street lights flooded one side of the dumpster and you saw- nothing. It was pitch black. Quickly you patted your pockets. First coat and then your pant pockets for your phone. One hand fished for it and rather clumsy you unlocked it to get to your flashlight. Now with your weapon of light you peered inside once more and this time you saw- trash. At first. A lot of it, nothing out of the ordinary for a dumpster in a lived in neighborhood. Out of the corner of your eye you saw movement and following it was your hand with your phone. 

“Naaww you poor guy. How did you end up in here?”, you cooed after you spotted a brown cat that had a completely black right arm. Its fluffy fur was completely damped and it looked very dirty. Also something you could expect of a stray cat. Slowly and cautiously you held out your hand to it as to not scare the cat away. 

“Come here. Let me help you”, you said in a low voice. The cat looked at you, then at your hand, rather unimpressed. In true cat manner it seemed like it wanted to say “I don't need your help puny little human”. You giggled. 

“Come on. I don't bite and as soon as you are out of the dumpster I leave you alone. What do you say?”, you tried to reason with the cat as if it could understand you. To your astonishment it acted like it did. Suspicious of your hand the cat sniffed it first. Deeming you not an immediate threat it rose up from its position and stepped closer to your hand and yourself. Slowly you dragged your hand to a spot where you could easily grab the cat and lift it out. 

“Alright buddy. I’m going to grab you now so don't make me regret it by scratching me”, you spoke more to yourself than the cat. You really didn't want to go to the next doctor and get a tetanus vaccine in. The cat still unimpressed with you followed your movement though. Securely you wrapped one hand around its ribcage and the other, after putting your phone away, beneath its hind paws and scooped it up and over the dumpster back on the ground. 

“There ya go”, you smiled down at the cat. “Didn’t even hurt.” 

The cat looked up at you and only then do you notice its blue eyes that really dipped into a deep violet. A splatter of yellowish green accompanied the irises. For such a beautiful cat to be a stray, you almost didn't believe it. 

Also, the cat didn't move. You fully expected it to dash away as soon as its paws were back on the ground but it just stood in front of you. Almost like it was waiting for something. 

“Go on now. Go home”, you crouched down and offered your hand again. “Or don't you have a home? Such a beautiful cat as yourself.” 

The cat once more went to your hand. Starting to purr as it rubbed its head against your hand. Demanding pats. 

“Yes”, you giggled. “Such a handsome cat. And friendly too. You must have a home, right?” 

The cat meowed as if it tried to answer you. Your heart broke a bit. For sure this handsome fellow had a home. As you absentmindedly patted the cat all over you looked around. You felt no collar around the cat’s neck and wondered who it could belong to. Thinking about what to do next, the cat started to rub itself around you. Bumping into you and almost pushing you out of balance. 

“Alright, alright”, you began patting it in earnest again. 

“So, how about I take you home with me for now and then just put up missing posters, hm? Is that a plan?”, you asked the cat. Meowing back at you, you took it as a yes to your plan. Inwardly you celebrated. The cat distribution system finally chose you! Maybe not for long but you now were in the possession of a new cuddly friend. You might not have anything at home but that could be easily fixed. This beautiful fellow also might not stick around for long but for however long you swore you would take the best care of him. Her? It? Right, you never ascertained which gender the cat had. Eh, whatever. As long as you didn't get attached to it and without much pain could give it away again, all was good. Right. Right? 

Future you will hate you for this decision. 

The cat stretched, walking around you once more and then pawing at your knees as if to beg to get picked up again. Opening your coat and scooping it up from the ground, you fulfilled the cat’s wishes. 

“My god. You are really friendly”, you mused to yourself and scratched the cat's head to which in return it purred even louder. 

Together you made your way out of the alley. The dumpster forgotten and your way home just a bit warmer. 

“Don’t run away, okay?”, you said softly to the cat before untangling it from your torso. On your track home it made itself very comfortable on you while you carried it. Its head often flitting from one place to another. You blamed the new height of perspective for the cat's behaviour. Couldn’t blame it, really. Imagine yourself getting hoisted up five times your own height and then carried around places that you never seen before. Now that would be an adventure. For the most part the breathing was calm so you didn’t worry that much. More surprised at the fact how the cat didn’t struggle once to get free. Just enjoying the free ride. 

Cat on the ground in front of the door of your apartment you dove one hand into your bag, trying to find your keys that you carelessly flung inside. With half an eye on the cat all the time. Not that it would decide in the last moment to make a run for it. Granted that it wouldn’t come far or could cats push open an apartment complex door? Probably not or the coincidence would just be big enough that one of your neighbors decided to go out in that exact moment as well. 

You shook your head off these thoughts. Cat was still on the ground and eyeing your door expectantly. Seemingly cat wasn’t even thinking about going anywhere but inside your apartment and here you were already thinking about all the different possible scenarios that would ensue when it ran away. Silly you. 

Key victoriously between your fingers you finally unlocked your home and cat dashed inside like the devil was after it. Puzzled you stood at your door for a bit. 

“Alright? Well…make yourself at home, I guess”, slowly trudging you went after it into your own four walls. Serotonin tingling your brain with the happiness that cat was very excited to explore its new home. 

Exhaustion slowly made itself apparent. Clawing at you and dragging your already tired body. Exhaustion and hunger but motivation wasn’t nowhere near you to make yourself food instantly. Cat on the other hand was curiously looking around. Taking in its new environment. Sniffing, patting around and jumping on shelves to get a better view. 

“Don’t throw it down, I swear to god”, you warned as you spotted cat near a vase with flowers inside. Body despite the sluggish feeling ready to jump to save the vase from its crashing end. Expertly the cat avoided the glass and danced around anything that was not stable. You let out a breath of relief. Automatically your body carried to your couch in the living room on which you rather unceremoniously slumped down on. Ah, finally home. 

_____

How the fuck did he get here? One moment he was in the deepspace tunnel, conducting a new mission and the next he had four paws. Trash surrounded him, it was fucking dark too. He could make out the sound of cars passing by and people walking on the street. Where was he? To his own surprise he wasn’t that cold until he realised that he had fur as well and when he tried to speak only a meow came out. In no way in hell did he turn into a cat, did he? No. What? 

In his moment of utter disorientation, a lid opened and a beautiful face peered down to him. Down? Ah, right. The cat thing. 

Caleb watched you fumble for your phone only to be blinded the very next moment by the harsh light of a phone flashlight. It took several blinks to get his bearing again. You reached out your hand to him. Now this was getting ridiculous. “Poor guy”? “How did he end up here”? Sweetheart, that's what he should be asking. Who the fuck are you anyway and why did you open up this-? Where was he? Is this a trash dumpster? Oh his fucking gods. If he could sigh in annoyance, he would. 

Caleb eyed your hand suspiciously. The smart move would be to take it. Considering everything, he couldn’t get out of this dumpster alone and what could be worse is that, tomorrow the dumpster could be emptied. Nor did he trust humanity enough that another friendly soul would come and pick him up or at least get him out. You were his only shot right now, even if he didn’t want to admit it. So? He sniffed you. Creepy in his own mind but he was a cat now. The least he could do was to make it look convincing. 

You pulled your hand closer to yourself as if to lure him out of his corner. As if he wouldn’t just go to you willingly. How long would he need to put up with this act? Irritation flared up within him. This is so beneath him. 

Scratch you? Yeah, why not actually? Instead he let him get picked up gently. Now was not the time to bite the hand that was feeding him.

The moment was faster over than he could comprehend. Swoop- and he was back on the ground. Caleb looked around. Alright, an alley and- you. In your full glory. Black pants, hair tied up, thick scarf around your neck, an open hanging coat and warm looking boots. Beautiful, pretty and cozy looking. Not a threat. A quick scan and he was certain you carried no gun. Not his worst choice, he thought. 

Let's make a run for it. What do cats normally do to get pity? Humans usually die to pet them. Swallowing his pride he went to you. Did he like to get touched? Sensitive question. If it would be his childhood friend, he wouldn’t mind but a complete stranger? In this form no less? God, that needed willpower and he was already running low because of this situation. Please let this all be a dream and he would wake up in a few moments in Skyhaven. 

“A home?”, yeah in the arms of someone else but that was not here. Just where in heaven sake was he? Get this over with, woman and just take him with you. 

Please, he meowed. Inwardly he sighed. Good lord…

Mercy was shown and you actually picked him up. Giddy and a happy smile on your face you wrapped him up in your coat. It was warm and against his own doing he began to purr at the sensation. Okay so maybe this wasn’t as bad as he imagined. Distracted a bit and sleep pulling at him, he let himself enjoy this small reprieve for a bit. 

Lights flitted by behind his eyelids and he looked around. First fact? This is not Linkon nor Skyhaven. Second, he didn’t recognise anything. If this was in fact a dream, his subconsciousness was running wild today. The only thing grounding him was you. Your warmth, your soothing touch and your somewhat familiar scent that he confused with that of MC. It wasn’t as overwhelming or confusing when he could nuzzle up to you for now. Just shortly, only for a bit. To get his mind back on track, you know? 

The walk you both took, well- you took with him being carried, was not long lived. You said something but he didn’t pay any attention. Something something not running away something something. Where would he go anyway? For christ sake he was a cat right now. First thing he needs to get rid off anyway. Second thing was to get back home. Like home. Once more begging to the skies above that this was a dream. A very vivid one. Caleb couldn't decide if this was a nightmare or not. Was he maybe more exhausted than he wanted to admit? Did he have an accident on his expedition and was now in a coma? Please let it be just that. Maybe also just cognitive training done by Ever. What does he know? 

He heard keys jiggling, a soft clicking of a lock falling back and then a door opening. The ash-brown haired man…uh cat made a run for it. Into the apartment! He stopped in his tracks to get everything in. Analysing your furniture and layout. There was one floor length window that opened up to a small, cozy balcony. A couch in an open space that he guessed was your living room. With a TV mounted to the opposite side of the couch. A lengthy cupboard underneath. On it a few nick-nacks: a charger cable connected to a tablet, a switch console and a bunch of books. The couch itself was decorated with plushies and cushions rounded up with a throw blanket. Some of the walls accented by warm pastel colours to widen the otherwise small space. He peered down one corridor and made out two doors. Guessing one of them was a bathroom and the other your own. 

Caleb inspected your walls. The one on the far end and left of the couch was more bookshelf than wall. Filled up almost to the brim but he spotted also there nick-nacks in between. He jumped on the couch arm and continued on another shelf. Slowly getting closer to your kitchen area. Once more he heard you say something. Bla bla not throwing down something. He had half a mind to fuck with you, but again not the opportunity to bite the hand that feeds him. Curious what you meant in the first place he looked back and felt the vase against his body. God it was so weird to see his fluffy legs and a tail too. Dirt clung to the fur and he wondered what he did before he regained his consciousness in that dumpster. But better not test what it would take to make you throw him out back on the street. For all he could know, you could be the one with answers. If not, he could still leave. 

Rustling and then a dull thumb. Caleb once more looked back. You all but collapsed on your couch and let out a sigh. Tiredness was written all over your face. Your body practically radiated exhaustion. The ash-brown cat didn’t notice before but how could he? Way too immersed in his own problems. Nonetheless were you kind enough to pick him up. Brave enough to go into that spooky alley. Hell, he wouldn’t have. Not without a gun at least. You also were nice enough to carry him here. Not once complaining. If he dares to say, happy to have him with you. Just as warm as he was. Disregarding that he smelled like the trash he lay in.

Suddenly you moved, like you just remembered something important. As if possessed you scrambled up and reached for your tablet. Okay? 

Back to discovering your place he left you to your own devices. 

Noises sprung from your tablet. An interesting melody and a woman singing. Just what were you doing? Playing a game? Well, he was done looking at your kitchen that was, well what could be interesting about a kitchen? It was a kitchen. Jumping from the counter to your table and back on the ground he tapped over to you. One last jump on the couch right next to you. What he saw next made his breath hitch. 

There she was. His childhood friend. On the screen…with another guy? Did you just took pictures of her with another man? Who was he? Some dude with white hair and a pose slung around his childhood friend. They looked happy together. Frozen in time for the picture. What is going on? Did you know her? How could you do this? How- what? How did you take pictures of her? Switching her poses like that? But why did it look so much like a game? Like a 3D rendering of her? What was going on? 

But as soon as he needed to process what he saw, your fingers deftly moved over the screen and collected some rewards in an…event? What? Huh? 

“Is it a new bug? Why can’t I select Caleb?”, you mumbled to yourself. Completely oblivious to the distress ball that he was right now. To your own confusion you couldn’t do anything with Caleb in your game besides recalling the memories you have obtained of him. 

The head of just mentioned man reared. What was happening? Did you know him? What was this game? Who are you? What is happening?! 

Enough, he jumped on your tablet. 

“What the- ey!”, you exclaimed and he just meowed back. That's what he wanted to yell right now. What was going on?! Answer him! 

“You can’t just- get off!”, you giggled. Not taking his jumbling, confusing emotions and obvious distress seriously. 

Okay, different approach. He quickly needed a different approach. Before he could come up with anything you picked him up once more and placed him beside you. Damn him right now for being nothing but an eight pound raging ball of fur. Take him seriously, god damn it! Caleb began to meow again and cursed inside his thoughts. One paw on your tablet, but you giggled again. 

“What is it? You also want to play?”, you smiled at him, picked him up. Again. Woman, do it one more time and he is going to forget his rational part about him and would really bite you. He needed answers and not pats. Oh- okay. You placed him on your lap. The tablet on your knees so he could have a good view of it. 

“Should I explain it to you?”, you continued on and began showing him everything the game had to offer. Beginning with talking with four different men, battling wanderers in bounty hunting or abyssal chaos up to the “main story”, as you called it, until the memories you collected of said four men. Him included as the fifth. What? Without thinking he raised his paw on “falling for you” and selecting himself. Not half a fuck given that he gave himself away, that he was, in fact, not a cat. That's the whole point though, wasn't it? He was a man! Not a damn cat! He was stuck here. God knows where and you! You just playing with her life, with his! With his life like it was a game?! 

These were…all his, well some of them anyway, memories he had with MC. The childhood friend he tried to protect at all costs. Given that his methods weren’t always as pure as he wanted them to be but more often than not necessary. All splayed out for your eyes to see and…rekindle them? Watch them over and over? Relive them?

“Do you like him?”, you asked in a soft voice and he turned to look at you. Totally not caring that he, a cat, was patting on your tablet with human like intelligence. Were you that tired? Half asleep already? 

Like him? He was him! How could he tell you that? So that you would explain further. Maybe he could figure out this way how he got here. Wrecking his brain he tried to come up with anything. Fuck it. Fucking dip this cat shit. Even more so than he already has. How blaringly obvious did he need to be? For your rather slow mind to comprehend what he means. 

Trying to figure out how to show you, tell you or rather scream at you that this 3D rendering of him was he, he put a paw on his image and then on his furry body. As well as he could at least. Which in result was him patting his image then getting up, sitting on his hind legs and putting his paw on his torso area. Caleb begged to the skies above that you understood his message but to his dismay you looked at him puzzled. Oh his fucking gods…

Alright. Different approach. This was taking all of his patience and he barely had none. 

Once more he put one paw on his image that beneath showed a short video out of the perspective of what he only could guess was MC. He didn’t want to think too long about it. Focus. Again he raised his other paw and put it on his chest. This time though he meowed and looked at you imploringly. Please, please let this be enough so you put two and two together. But even he realised that this was rather far-fetched and if this same thing would happen to him, neither would he understand what a cat would try to tell him. 

“What is it? Why-”, and then you looked at the screen that froze over the memory. “Hm?”

Oh my god, did you understand? Please! 

You looked past his small frame and he could see the thoughts behind your eyes. Yes, yes, yes. Yeah, he was Caleb! Come on. Give him answers!

“Nah”, you giggled. Not knowing what you might have said he just nodded with his head. 

“His name is Caleb, should I call you that as well?”, you thought out loud and stroked down from his head to his back. 

No! Yes, his name was Caleb but no! God fucking damn it. Just how was he supposed to tell you that Caleb was well- him. He was Caleb. The same man, now a cat in this universe, that you saw on that screen. Distraught, he wrecked his brain. Unfortunate for him there was no book or briefing or training he could have done to prepare him for playing charades as a cat. “How weird would it be if I named you after a otome game video character?”, you sighed. “God, I must be very lonely to even be considering that.” Maybe, but not the point here, woman. You could question your terrible life choices another time but right now, he needed you to figure out his image riddle!

~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*~~~*~~~*.~~~*

Henlo, to everybody that made it all the way down here! I plan on making this a multi part story, so stay tunned! If anybody has some cat involved stuff and want to see it here, don't be too shy to tell me about it <3

Thank you for reading, beautiful soul

[archerdepartures116]

For the Mass Transmigration AU

Are the Peak Lords now in the transmigrator's original bodies? If so, how's that working out for them? Like what are they doing? You said that WQW was a school teacher, is Og!WQW being swarmed by kindergarteners? and is Og!QQQ struggling with a ring light? IS OG!SQH GONNA TAKE OVER THE GOVERNMENT??‽!? oh and i just know Og!LQG is gonna get himself fired for fighting a Karen!

maybe cause that would be too complicated for my tiny pea brain and I feel like it would be fun if they're all hanging out somewhere in the void talking smack but at the same time having lqg work a customer service job is so funny

-sj and yqy get the therapy they need

-wqw and yqy are shocked at their loss of hair, really, the wonders of cultivation keeping ones youth

-Qqq becoming one of the most popular beauty influencers (and she can fight so she looks extra badass)

-MQF going and becoming an exchange student cause wtf is English wtf is that grammar system

-if SQH was to try to take over the government he would be arrested and thrown into jail💀

but I also really like the idea of them spectating the buffoons gallivanting around in their bodies cause they would be unbelievably offended (especially sj and lqg)

[fmhobeus]

house and you as pill/smoke buddies is on my brain rn mhmmm...

it probably starts when he catches you on the roof, blunt in hand, sighing into the void. your lab coat is abandoned on the sill. hard day at the hospital, child patient. couldn't save them. you know this is a high stress job, emotionally draining and you've never been good at coping. so there you are. some diazepam you swallowed down thirty minutes prior already in your system. must've kicked in already. house see's you and he's instantly intrigued by the arch of your back and the curve of your hips. perfect in those tight pencil skirts you wear. he doesn't know you but he's dying to figure out.

"i think you've stolen my spot." he clambers up to you. he's surprised you hadn't turned when you heard the cane. were you so deep in thought? you turn to look at him. register him. disheveled looking older man, 5 o'clock shadow, piercing blue eyes... and so you're type. you try to recall who he is. definitely a physician from the absence of a lab coat. is this the infamous...

"dr. house," he states. obviously the speed of your reaction, or lack thereof had intrigued him. your pupils were dilated and your breathing was irregular... though you might attribute that to present company "and you should not be this high while still in the hospital."

you breathe out the smoke you inhaled with a slight smirk. it makes him smirk too. you turn your back to the view and face him and subsequently eye his frame. he returns the favor, a lot less suggestively then you were. but of course he can't hold you to it, the way your eyes flutter is mostly because of the weed. heavy, intoxicating eyes. something tells you he doesn't mind it.

"don't tell. i'll leave in a minute and you can have your space back" you say.

"i said you stole my spot... who says you have to give it back?"

you smile and scoot over, tilting your head slightly gesturing him to join you. he pops two vicodin innocuously but you notice.

"damn, you swallow your pills dry? you're a sociopath" you giggle.

"i thought you as a doctor would be careful throwing around serious medical terms like that" he says, feigning an accusation. there's something about the intensity of eye contact you're holding. you've just met the guy and there's wayyy too much sexual tension in the air.

"not in the psychiatric department so no one can hold me to it," you say, blowing smoke in another direction. some part of house wanted you to blow the smoke right at him, not breaking the mutual eyefucking going on at the moment.

"how else did you get the lorazepam you've taken?" he asks, a sly tone like he has you all figured out. this was just a question to get you to spill the beans about your department. god you made him so curious. rarely had he seen a hot young doctor brazenly smoking after, presumably, taking a little something something. one so open to converse with an old man whose in her business.

you chuckle at his self assuredness.

"wanna take another guess?"

house uses this to shamelessly eye you. you're well put together, great sense of fashion. nice proportions. your body, not the outfits... he'd prefer you without them surely. no tremor. no injury, so no usual pain medication. you let out a heavy sigh and house darts his eyes towards your chest. great rack, he thinks, almost like he's going to put it in this mental patient report he's creating.

"hmmm, haloperidol? you don't strike me as the psychosis type though... valium wouldn't give you selective hearing. diazepam?"

"you know your anxiety medication, doc," you smile. he sighs abashedly. god he's hot. something about that rasp in his voice, good god, paired with the vanity radiating off his skin... it does something to you. you finally introduce yourself, partially because you need him to call you by your name in the same raspy, smug tone.

"pediatric pulmonology..." he puts a hand to his chin, scratching his stubble as if contemplating something serious, "it's always the childcare specialists trying to overdose on the hospital terrace. dont blame you, if i had to deal with those parasites i'd want to kill myself too."

you shoot him a look. your sure you dont need to tell him the stakes of the job, the weight on your soul when a child with an obvious chronic and fatal condition comes into intensive care. the cruel hand fate plays on a mere baby. "kids are a product of their environment." you put plainly. you look away into the distance. "and i'm not trying to kill myself. not yet anyway." he stops prodding, obviously he's ticked you in some way.

"are you trying to kill yourself? doctor house?" you stare at him now, and then move your eyes to the almost empty bottle of vicodin.

"oh, i'm an addict. an addict whose due for a refill." he puts the bottle at eye level, as if examining a test tube. you can't help but give a defeated smile at his bluntness. you stare off into space again. a hollow silence follows. you don't dare look at house once.

"you mind if i take a hit"

his question catches you off guard. there's an earnest in his blue eyes. almost as if involuntarily, almost hypnotized, you hand him the joint. your fingers brush as if on purpose. your breath hitches again. and house notices, coloring his eyes a different shade of vain. he puts the blunt to his lips, your eyes follow his every move with heed. the pink of his lips soon emit the familiar smoke. he looks you right in the eyes as he blows it onto your face. you bask in the smoke letting it cloud you. cloud your judgement for a split second as you lean forward. for a kiss? maybe but

house puts the blunt to your lips this time, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. you look up at him through your lashes, eyes blown out wide. he's so tall, even with his cane. he lets you intake the smoke for a second longer than you like, maintaining the intense gaze on you. there's a kick in your stomach. maybe it's something. maybe it's nothing. maybe you're just high. but you swear you've never been wetter.

[jumpingjoltiks]

Um hiii!! Could I request an x reader for ingo and emmet (seperately) with a reader who is autistic but like. REALLY masks? Like a level of masking where the boys don't even know that they're autistic at first, and they're VERY different when they aren't out in public/don't feel the need to mask. I love ur writing btw >_<!!!

AAAA Thank you smmm! I’m so happy you’ve enjoyed my work! <3 <3 <3

I’ve already written a little bit about the twins being autistic already, so I’m happy to get to finally write some x reader stuff to go with it!

Biiiiig mood. I've spent most of my life masking, so I think a lot of this will probably come from my own experiences. I ended up making this a few different sections instead of just one, all coming out of different ideas I had. :)

The twins with someone who is also autistic, but masks heavily

Ingo Gets It. He understands the fear and the pressure to fit in. Emmet doesn’t, but he tries his best to respect your decision (though, secretly, he wishes you’d be more yourself. Both boys love when you’re being the most authentic version of you, but Emmet really wants to see it all the time).

Being actually comfortable around them takes a while (as it would with anyone) – its hard work to decondition yourself like that, to convince yourself you’re really, genuinely safe being yourself – but the twins’ (especially Emmet’s) refusal to mask is enormously helpful in this regard. Their unabashed devotion to being exactly who they are is inspiring.

Emmet devotedly listens to your infodumping, especially if it’s something he’s also interested in. Ingo is thrilled to find someone else who will listen to him too. Late in the evening, when Ingo is cooking and you’re all three in the kitchen together, you all talk like no one has ever looked at you strangely before – open and honest and genuinely excited just to share knowledge and enjoy this moment together.

There’s a certain amount of bluntness between you three, but none of you really mind. If hurtful words are ever said, you can be sure that they weren’t really meant to be cruel. You can always talk things out. Emmet, in particular, has trouble with his straightforward attitude, and sometimes says things that come out wrong – do you as well? He knows how hard it can be to find the right way to say things.

And if you don’t feel like spending time together right now, the twins understand that too. There have been plenty of days when one or the other will come home and lock themselves in their room for a while, just to cool down. If you should come home from your job or a grocery run and need some time, they’ll handle the rest.

Decompression

Would it surprise you to know that it’s Emmet who catches on first? There’s a good reason for that! He’s had a lifetime of keeping an eye on his brother, who also used to heavily mask.

Your own tells are different then Ingo’s, to be sure, but they’re there regardless.

After a tough day, you’re taking the subway home. He notices that your posture and gait are different & your expression is stiffer. You’re clinging to your sense of self-control.

He’s got things he needs to attend to, but you’re a dear friend… your wellbeing comes first, he decides. Emmet doesn’t hesitate to fall into step next to you as you traverse through the station.

“Good afternoon! Are you doing alright?”

You know he’s not one for small talk… so what is he doing? The flash of a puzzled look crosses your face before you smile up at him. It’s humiliating, but you can’t seem to summon up words right now. This will have to do.

Emmet knows smiles. Yours is tight and strained, not at all like your usual smile. And you haven’t answered. He doesn’t like this at all. All signs are pointing to a systems crash.

“Your engine is overheated. I can tell. Do you need a place to step aside for maintenance? My office isn’t far.”

You stare at him blankly, trying to parse exactly what kind of metaphor he’s making.

But you’re too overstimulated and tired to put too much thought into it. Eventually, you sigh and nod. He leads you through the crowd with swinging arms and legs, and people part before him.

The office is an open space that is fastidiously tidy. A sofa is tucked against one wall, opposite is a set of shelves with all kinds of books and files neatly arranged. A pair of matching desks are stationed toward the back of the room. You’ve never been in here, but somehow you instinctively know that this is a safe place for you.

“I have a mini fridge. You are welcome to any of the snacks and cold waters I have. There are also noise cancelling headphones if you want. I know that Gear Station can be verrrrry noisy when overstimulated.”

You think that’s the longest stretch of words you’ve ever heard Emmet say, and you can only stare up at him wordlessly in response. You didn’t realize he had you figured out. Shame threatens to creep in, but then he smiles as he holds out a bottle of ice water to you. He smiles like he knows. There isn’t a single trace of pity or belittlement in it, only understanding.

You take the bottle of water with a small, genuine smile of your own. It’s the first one you’ve had all day.

When you sit down on the couch, Emmet takes off his coat and places it over your shoulders. It’s pretty big on you… but it’s also really heavy. You hadn’t realized it was weighted this whole time. The pressure feels nice, and you bury yourself into it. Emmet seems pleased, like he knew this would happen.

“I am going to do some paperwork at my desk. Would you like the lights off?”

You nod wordlessly and he flicks the light switch off in response. The only light in the room is the warm glow of a desk lamp, focused down onto his work station and away from you. Even the faint hum of electricity that would usually come out of a lamp like that is silent, which is an enormous relief.

The only sound for the next hour is Emmet’s pen near silently sweeping across the pages of his work. You stay quiet and buried under his coat, eyes closed and dozing somewhere between sleeping and waking. You feel safe.

After what feels like an age, you shift from under the coat and re-emerge, feeling much better. Emmet’s eyes flick up to you.

“Do you feel any better?” he asks. His voice is quiet.

“Yes.” You answer, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off. “Do not apologize. Ingo and I have spent many afternoons doing the same. I’m just glad I was there to offer help.”

From that point on, things are… different between you and the twins. Emmet must have told his brother about what happened, because Ingo is more open around you.

You’ve been friends for a long time, but something seems to have unlocked now. The three of you quickly catch like a struck match.

Parallel Play

You spend a lot of time over at their place, and they at yours. Expect Ingo to politely ask if he or Emmet or both can come spend time with you.

This worried you at first, when you were still friends and not yet dating, but the twins don’t actually want your attention, per say. They just want to be in the same room as you while they do their own thing. Not having to “host” takes so much pressure off of you that you wonder why anyone entertains any other way.

Ingo will be reading, curled up in one of your chairs or on a couch, so still you’d think he was asleep if not for the intermittent turn of a page. Emmet is reviewing battle plans and notes, spread out across your table, one leg bouncing. Occasionally, he gets up to pace and mutter to himself, not looking at either you or his brother. You’re working on one of your hobbies in the living room. Not one of you bothers the others. It’s… peaceful. And nice, just having them unobtrusively nearby.

Do you stim? They have a cache of puzzle-y, twisty toys and clickers in a drawer. You’re more than welcome to them, or to anything else you need.

Eventually, if you’d like, you can curl up with Ingo underneath the weighted blanket he’s got spread across his lap. He’ll swing an arm around you without looking up from his book, and you listen to his heartbeat and steady breathing as you nod off.

Or Emmet might come over to you and quietly offer you a warm mug of hot chocolate. The two of you sit back-to-back in silence, sipping your drinks and working on your respective projects.

How nice it is, you think, to spend time with those who understand.

[ollieofthebeholder]

I actually have a good example of this.

I was in a campaign that had been running for about a year at this point; we were all around level 4-5. Most of us were at least moderately experienced players, so even though it was our GM's first time running, she was doing a very good job of it, and she had an experienced GM in the party who would help her out when necessary.

We were sent to deal with a wizard's tower owned/threatened (I forget which, or if the party actually knew which) by a dragon. Important to note that this dragon had already almost killed us once - the GM specifically did not intend us to fight this dragon, and had given us a brief, fly-by, low-stakes, don't-bother-rolling-initiative encounter with it so we would know it was out of our league and not try. She wanted us to try the stealth option. But, because she knew us as well, she did plant a couple magical items in the top of the tower: a Sphere of Annihilation, which would cause a small localized explosion, and a Rod of Cancellation, which would end any magical effects and abilities.

We (everyone in the party except the centaur, who couldn't climb the ladders inside the tower and was waiting on guard outside) made it to the top floor, opened the chests looking for a way to accomplish whatever it was our mission was (it was almost a decade ago, I genuinely can't remember now), and found the Sphere and the Rod. We were able to correctly identify them, even. We were wary of the Sphere, but we talked together and hatched a plan: My Wizard character would levitate the Sphere and float it out the window in order to detonate it on the rapidly approaching dragon, who had been alerted by us triggering some alarm we'd missed. The Fighter would stand by with the Rod of Cancellation, and if the Sphere of Annihilation came the wrong way, he would hit it with the Rod and cancel the magic. The GM told us I would need three successful control rolls to get it out the window.

My first roll was a four on the die. My second was a nat1. The Sphere rocketed towards us. The Fighter swung at it with the Rod. The Rod connected with the Sphere.

The GM turned the page, froze for a second with wide eyes, and then said very quietly, "...Oh."

What she had failed to notice, and therefore failed to communicate - a thing we probably should have been able to determine from our Identify rolls - was that a Rod of Cancellation interacting with a Sphere of Annihilation would instantly destroy all life in a twenty-foot sphere.

Yeah. TPK. The GM felt horrible.

We'd been planning to convert our characters from 2e to 5e (2e being the system the GM - and most of us at the table - had learned on and were more familiar with, but which we were all getting annoyed by at that point) as soon as this mission was over, so we ended up salvaging the situation by saying the explosion had ripped a hole in the planes and we were transported to another dimension with varying degrees of amnesia, but yeah, it was a whole thing.

"But doesn't having a notion of 'balanced' combat inherently imply that all combat encounters are expected to be fair and winnable" well, no – it implies only that the GM has the ability to know whether a given combat encounter is fair and winnable.

There's a story that's been going around for decades about a Dungeons & Dragons party who encountered a large room full of treasure while exploring a dungeon. Immediately suspicious, they asked their GM a series of detailed questions about the room, but no obvious dangers were identified. Satisfied, they moved into the room – and were immediately set upon and eaten by the dragon that had been sitting atop the pile of treasure the whole time, which the GM hadn't mentioned because the players never specifically asked about the presence of living creatures within the room.

While this is obviously an extreme and ridiculous case, it illustrates an important point: as GM, you're the group's eyes and ears. If you don't describe something, the player characters literally can't see it – that dragon was effectively invisible from their perspective. The trick is that active malice isn't the only way to invisible-dragon your players; a group can also find themselves invisible-dragoned because the GM simply failed to provide sufficient information for the risk in question to be identified. This can happen through neglect, but it can also happen because the GM themself was unaware that the risk was present.

Now, hold on, you might be saying: the GM "plays" the entire world. How is it possible for the GM not to know that a risk is present? Well, that brings us back around to the subject of combat balance.

A game in which "balanced" combat is a meaningful thing to discuss is typically going to be one in which both the players and the GM are actually making strategic, tactical, and/or logistical decisions, rather than merely producing a description of their characters making such decisions. Without a good handle on the interplay of these decisions, it's completely possible for the GM to be wrong about the level of risk the scenario they've constructed entails.

That's actually pretty critical, because even if you don't care about the game being fair and winnable (and that's a perfectly valid stance), your players are still depending on you to be their eyes and ears, and to give them enough information to make good decisions about whether the fight in front of them is one they can win. A game where not every fight is expected to be winnable needs to be a game where the players have the opportunity to walk away.

No matter how objective you try to be, your own sense of the answer to that question is inevitably going to colour how you communicate about it. You being wrong about the level of risk at hand inherently increases the chance that your players will make bad choices. The party eating a TPK because they made a stupid decision is one thing; the party eating a TPK because they made a decision that looked reasonable from their perspective based on your unwitting miscommunication of the level of risk involved is quite another!

Sure, once the dice hit the table I'm probably going to realise that I fucked up, and I can adjust things on the fly to bring the level of risk that's actually present in line with the level of risk I communicated – but that's extra work I don't need with everything else that's on my plate. And that's a best-case scenario; if I'm running the game for a hardcore let-the-dice-fall-where-they-may group (and such groups tend to have a pretty significant overlap with groups that are cool with not every fight being winnable), I may not be able to adjust the fight's parameters on the fly without violating the social contract of the table.

Basically, whenever I see an OSR game with tactically crunchy combat brag about how its author never even thinks about "balance", what that's telling me is that running this game is going to create a whole lot of extra work for me as a GM. This is not a selling point.

[maxdibert]

I find the idea of Severus having a son amusing because I feel like he would rather wear bermuda shorts and sandals than take care of a smaller version of himself.

Imagine a bold, ill-tempered little boy who questions everything and always wants to get his way. Severus would have to keep several headache potions on hand just to deal with him. He’d feel like he’s constantly arguing with himself—especially since the boy is an exact physical copy of him, just without the malnutrition and the old, tattered clothes he had at that age.

Personally, in my head, the dynamic would go something like this: Severus: HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT YOU HAVEN’T TURNED IN A SINGLE ASSIGNMENT IN TWO MONTHS!?

His teenage son: Dad, homework is nothing more than a mechanism of the system to stifle the creativity and inventiveness of young people—a way to indoctrinate them into following a backward and castrating form of single-minded thinking. As the Muggle philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre said: "Education is the bourgeoisie’s ultimate tool for shaping individuals in their own image, depriving them of any real capacity for subversion."

Severus: I’ll tell you what I’m going to deprive you of—your freedom. You’re grounded for the entire Christmas holiday. No going out, no friends, and no leaving your room.

His teenage son: Christmas is that time of year when people celebrate love and generosity by buying things they don’t need, made by exploited workers, to impress people they don’t even care about.

Severus: What the hell are you talking about?

His teenage son: Come on, dad. It's Noam Chomsky!

Severus: I can’t do this anymore.

[techav]

Sharing a Computer with More Friends

A few months ago I built an I/O expansion board for my homebrew 68030 project with a 4-port serial card to go with it, and got BASIC running for four simultaneous users. It worked, but not as well as I had hoped. I wanted to be able to run two of those serial cards to support 8 total users, but it had proven unstable enough that with just the one card I had to slow down the whole system to 8MHz.

So I designed a new serial card.

I had previously been running this computer without any issues at 32MHz with a mezzanine card with FPU & IDE as well as a video card. The main board by itself can clear 56MHz. Having to go all the way down to 8MHz just didn't sit well with me. I want this machine to run as fast as possible for its 8 users.

I put extra time into reviewing worst-case timing for all components and graphing out how signals would propagate. The 16C554 quad UARTs I'm designing around are modern parts that can handle pretty fast bus speeds themselves — easily up to 50MHz with no wait states on the 68030 bus — assuming all the glue logic can get out of the way fast enough.

Signal propagation delays add up quickly.

My first draft schematic used discrete 74-series logic for chip selection, signal decoding, timing, etc. At slower bus speeds this wouldn't have been a problem. But I want this thing to run as fast as possible. By the time critical signals had made it through all those logic gates, I was looking at already being well into one wait state by the time the UART would see a 50MHz bus cycle begin.

I needed something faster. I was also running low on space on the board for all the components I needed. The obvious answer was programmable logic. I settled on the ATF22V10 as a good compromise of speed, size, availability, and programmability. It's available in DIP with gate delays down to 7ns. Where discrete gates were necessary, I selected the fastest parts I could. The final design I came up with showed a worst case timing that would only need one wait state at 50MHz and none for anything slower.

It ended up being a tight fit, but I was able to make it work on a 4-layer board within the same footprint of my main board, putting some components on the back side. (It may look like a bunch of empty space, but there's actually a lot going on running full RS232 with handshaking for 8 ports).

New problem. I had blown my budget for the project. As much as I love those stacked DE9 connectors, they're expensive. And there's no getting around the $10 pricetag for each of those quad UARTs. Even using parts on-hand where possible, I was looking at a hefty Mouser order.

[jbevren] suggested using ganged RJ45 connectors with the Cisco pinout instead of stacked DE9, to save space & cut costs. [Chartreuse] suggested buffering the TTL serial TX/RX signals to drive the LEDs that are frequently included on PCB-mount RJ45 connectors. Both great ideas. I was able to cut 20% off my parts order and add some nice diagnostic lights to the design.

Two weeks later, I received five new PCBs straight from China. I of course wasted no time setting into starting to assemble one.

I really set myself up for a challenge on this one. I learned to solder some 25 years ago and have done countless projects in that time. But I think this might be the most compact, most heavily populated, most surface mount board I've ever assembled myself. (There are 56 size 0805 (that's 2x1.2mm) capacitors alone!)

After a few hours soldering, I had enough assembled to test the first serial port. If the first port worked then the other three on that chip should work too, and there's a great chance the other chip would work as well.

And it did work! After some poking around with the oscilloscope to make sure nothing was amiss, I started up the computer and it ran just fine at 8MHz.

And at 16MHz.

And at 25MHz.

And at 32MHz.

And at 40MHz.

And almost at 50MHz!

Remember what I said about my timing graphs showing one wait state for 50MHz? The computer actually booted up and ran just fine at 50MHz. The problem was when I tried typing in a BASIC program certain letters were getting switched around, and try as I might, BASIC just refused to 'RQN' my program. It was pretty consistently losing bit 3, likely from that signal having to travel just a tiny bit farther than the others. A problem that will probably be resolved with an extra wait state.

Good enough for a first test! A few hours more and I finished assembling the card.

I did have some problems with cleaning up flux off the board, and I had to touch up a few weak solder joints, but so far everything seems to be working. I've updated my little multi-user kernel to run all 8 users from this new card and it's running stable at 40MHz.

I need to update my logic on the 22V10 to fix a bug in the wait state generator. I would love to see this thing actually running at 50MHz — a 25% overclock for the 40MHz CPU I am currently running. I also want to expand my little kernel program to add some new features like the ability to configure the console serial ports and maybe even load programs from disk.

I hope to bring this machine with a collection of terminals and modems this June to VCF Southwest 2025 for an interactive exhibit that can be dialed into from other exhibits at the show.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

Apart from everyone coming back uninjured, healthy and happy, I want Pere to spend the international break drawing up proper tactics and plans and getting the team reset and ready for the next few matches

for sure. so after a strong start, today's match seemed to devolve into a lot of the same mistakes from the last two matches. ultimately, we ended the match 2-1 which was not ideal, but a win is a win in a knockout format. and i guess given the debacle that has been the last week, i suppose that's what's the most important.

so i don't know whether to attribute that to the fact that madrid cff played more open and we were able to capitalise on that during the first half. but if they stuck to a low block, then we would be stuck?

either way, pere and rafel seriously need to work on better tactics because a 2-1 against a mid-table team isn't a huge improvement over the last two matches.

inconsistent is how i would describe today. pajor had the early goal and then missed chances to capitalise on some good chances. it was a better first half than we've seen but the second half performances dropped. for kika, i thought she was quite solid today, and she's one who i want to see play out a full match.

as for the year, i think pajor has been fantastic overall. she's got that killer instinct. we just need to see more consistency and clinical finishing by her as that has dropped off in the last few matches. same with kika, i thought she had a slow start but finished the end of last year in a strong manner. again, i think it's been slow going with her but it's clear that she is a talented player and had a lot of good moments today. 🙏

i thought ingrid was fine today, but i don't love her as cdm. she's not my favourite to fill the position of pivot but she does an adequate job to fill in, especially against teams like madrid cff, etc. again, i prefer her as cb, but she did her job today.

that's the thing: ingrid is a "fine" midfielder as you said and within the barça system, but she's not amazing. whereas i think she's a great centerback and really stands out in that role!

[dolche-tejada]

"shirakumosolos is pretty spot on."

He's literally off-topic with my whole post so I don't know what you're even about, pal.

"Why would murderer get good ending?"

I answered that in the comment section in response to the guy you mentioned, you just needed to read like the very next reply after his own to get your answer.

So again, saving the League (more precisely Shigaraki, Toga and Toya) was the entire point of Deku, Ochako and Shoto's personal arc to become heroes, and overall one of the major themes of this manga. Beyond any ethical or pragmatic debates, they should have been saved at the end because that's what was promised by Horikoshi before he chickened out and tried to gaslight us narratively into believing that their conclusion is logical when it's a complete contradiction of what he'd been selling from the start.

"They get their karma, so what they were pitiful before?"

Karma, seriously how old are you ? Fourteen ?

Also I like the hypocrisy... So the LoV's members being murdered or incarcerated for life at Tartarus is karma for their crimes but them fighting back against a system that rejected them their whole life until they fall apart suddenly isn't karma ? Why ? Because you don't like them ?

"It didn't stop them from killing innocent people."

Indeed, it actually resulted in them killing people. I thought everyone would get that by now but I'm apparently too optimistic.

"Hawks killed twice, a literal murderer is a what now?"

The only people Twice killed onscreen were members from the equivalent of the KKK and soldiers from Re-Destro's army in self-defense. And don't even try to bring the example of this hero his clone killed since it was only in reaction to Hawks murdering Prime Twice.

"Hawks needed to stop that murderer to kill any more people anyway."

Firstly there's no concrete proof he intended to murder innocent people, only your assumptions. That's already kinda light to justify murdering someone running away.

Secondly, Hawks could have done that without murdering Twice considering how he effortlessly rolled over him during their whole confrontation. Twist this situation like you want, there's no rational justification for murdering a criminal who ran away and that you could have incapacitated at any point.

Thirdly, stopping murderers without killing them is quite literally Hawks' job so if he can't do that even when he's dominating said criminal, then all you're evidencing is that he sucks at his job.

Fourthly, killing Twice resulted with two heroes getting killed as a direct result and Toga using his blood later on to go an rampage. Both things wouldn't have happened if Hawks had chosen to just capture Twice and fly away.

"He's a hero to society."

Not an argument, don't care.

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[smellslikechahnspirit]

[Book]

Are we good for each other?

5. Room

Bang Chan x F. Reader

Synopsis: Written according to y/n trophy. A story about how you two met. Both having a difficult life, finding peace in each other. Not without lots of drama. Just read it, it's great.

Genre: Enemies to lovers, soft, some smut, drama

Warnings: Under eating, depression, toxic ex (Let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 3200

______________________________

[8:25 AM]

Chris opened the door to his shared dorm, as he guided you in with your crutches. You just came back from the hospital where you got a cast on your leg. “Well, that was a disaster...”, you said. “I mean the ankle sucks, but it’ll heal. I’m more worried about your eating habits y/n. Please explain to me why you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”, Chris asked.

As you two walked in you looked around. It was indeed a very different aesthetic than the other dorm. He then helped you sit down on the couch in their living room. “Well, I want to eat, it’s just…”, you said, stopping in the middle of the sentence, not wanting to finish it. You simply didn’t have enough money right now, but the last thing you wanted was a rich guy pitting you, and maybe try to offer you stuff. That’s just everything you didn’t want.

“Y/n….I know you’re struggling with money and I don’t know, maybe you feel too embarrassed to tell me or whatever, but I’m here, I can help you ou- “, Chris said as you cut him off. “No, I don’t want any help. I know what you’re trying to do, and just be a nice human, but I just can’t, it would ruin my ego and dignity. So please don’t ever offer me anything like that ever again.”, you said wanting to get back up again so you could leave.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry, I understand. But right now, it’ll be on the company. Since you work at our building now technically, meals are free. So even though you do not want to take anything from me, I’m ordering us something in their name. I won’t take no for an answer. You need food in your system right now, period.”, he said holding your arm so you couldn’t get up.

You were too weak mentally and physically to argue right now so just gave in and agreed. “What do you like to eat, rice? Maybe some pasta? Tell me.”, he asked. You looked at him with a faint expression. “Whatever you want…”, you said as you lay your head back on the couch and closing your eyes. “Alright I’ll choose something. Meanwhile, let’s not worry about the gaming for today. Let’s just hang out here for a bit.”, he said as he got you a blanket. He put it over your body as you tried to get cosy.

“Can we maybe put on a movie?”, you asked him. He was glad you were acting more social to him than before, first you seemed distant, but now he felt more at ease with your behaviour towards him. “Here, put on anything you want.”, he said as he handed you the joystick of the gaming console in the living room.

He then went to the kitchen to get some drinks and called the food company to order. At first when you looked, you wanted to instantly open up the streaming app on there, to in fact choose a movie. But right next to it you saw a racing game. Your gaming heart couldn’t resist.

You clicked on it, and loaded into the only account that was on there, it said: Han Jisung. You didn’t care since all you wanted was to just play a match or two. Then you saw the rank. It was silver 2 division 3. You laughed.

Not to be rude, but that was really low. You didn’t want to mess with his rank and went on a guest account. So, you did and clicked 3v3 rumble. As the match loaded, Chris came back from the kitchen. He looked over at you as he asked what movie you picked. Then he looked at the screen.

“He he he…”, you grinned. He smiled at you and put the drinks down. Then he sat next to you. “Hmmm nice one, I’ve seen that one before.”, he said sarcastically. “I just needed to at least rank diamond 3.”, you said with desire in your voice. “Yeah, I have no idea what that means, but yay I guess.”, he said as he looked at you. You looked back at him.

You explained the ranking as he stayed quiet and just listened to you. Admiring your face while you spoke. Gosh you were beautiful he thought to himself. “So, if I play a few rounds, we’ll find out what rank I’ll be and well, I don’t expect anything lower than at least Plat, for now at least.”, you said as the match suddenly started. You turned you focus back to the screen, but his didn’t.

He just hummed in agreement but kept looking at you. “Hey, you should pay attention here, you need to learn right?”, you said since you saw him staring at you instead of the screen, from the corner of your eye. “I thought we weren’t learning today...”, he said as he kept looking at you and not the screen. You just glanced over real quick and laughed. “I guess so...hehehe”, you said, still very concentrated.

After 5 minutes the game was over and you and your team won, obviously. You even became MVP on the scoreboard. “GG bitches.”, you said out loud to be funny and stereotypical. You laughed and put the controller down on the coffee table for a second.

You turned your head back towards Chris and noticed he in fact did not move a single muscle and was still admiring you. Not in a creepy way but he was just so amazed by you and you excitement, it made him smile. “Whut?”, you asked him. “Nothing, you’re just amazing.”, he said. Then instantly realising what he just said and became as red as a tomato.

He looked down and smiled to himself. You stayed quiet. But you now finally saw it. Was he having a thing for you? Was this tension between you guys mutual? At first you wanted to be professional and not give into these strange feelings. But something in you felt so comfortable with him all of a sudden. You then also remembered how he helped you in the gym, and also how he stayed by your side in the hospital. How he was being too generous and taking care of you. You looked over to your glass. It had 2 ice cubes and a little pink umbrella in it. Even a mint leaf.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”, you asked him, who was now sitting only about half a meter away from you. “Some people are worth caring for…”, he said. He knew you hated being pitied, so he would never want you to feel that way towards him ever again. Yet he also felt this desire towards you. He did really like you and liked you as a person. You were funny and sarcastic, even a little bit goofy, and maybe somewhat like him, strong.

He knew you weren’t gonna give up your fight and it made him feel like he was not alone. Like you knew what it was like, having a hard time and he couldn’t really share those feelings with anyone else these last couple of years. He wanted someone to be able to agree with him and understand his hardship. He felt like you and him were the same in a way, and felt a great connection, even though you two only just met.

You smiled at him. Something in you was really attracted to him. All the worries from before were gone, and all you felt was a great desire to kiss this man in front of you. You were doubting yourself, since normally you wouldn’t do something like this with someone you’ve just met. But you felt it, he definitely felt the same way about you. No words had to be used. Only this diamond plated tension. You were so desperate now. But you knew you had to be patient.

As you both just stared at each other, both wanting to kiss, you said: “Maybe, we shouldn’t…”. As you said that he pulled away a bit and looked at you. “I know…I didn’t mean to…”, he said. “No I know, but…I just got hired at your company, and I feel like if we go there already right now, people might get the wrong ideas. That I indeed am privileged like that right now. To be able to work there and I don’t know, there many things people could think, you know some people have fucked up minds, like what if you’re a sugar daddy or I don’t know… I would just feel bad if anyone-“, he shut you up, by indeed kissing you.

His kiss was soft and tender. “I don’t care.”, he said, as you looked at him with big eyes, in shock. “Let them think whatever the fuck, no one is here, no one knows shit.”, he said. You kept looking into his eyes and thought the same thing now. You pressed your lips against his this time and pulled him even closer than before.

Both of you eager to continue this hot make out. He was pulling you closer. You rubbing your hands around his neck, shoulders, arms, then finally locked hands with him. He helped you sit on his lap, straddling him. You were both lost in lust as the kiss continued. “Fuck..”, he said between kisses. “I don’t know what I’m doing but I like it.”, you said right after.

He grabbed your ass and squeezed it tight. You left out a soft moan. Chris normally wouldn’t have done anything like this with anyone, let alone with a girl he just met. But as I’ve said before, he was so lost in the feeling.

“Gosh, I want you…”, he said as he had his hands at the bottom of your dress, ready to take it off. “Wait, what if anyone just comes in? Stop.”, you said as you stopped him from doing anything else. He looked at you with red cheeks and out of breath. Without saying anything he stood up with you still on his lap. Now holding you with your legs around his waist, as he walked towards his bedroom.

When he reached the door you kissed him again. He walked in, and placed you on the bed softly, carefully because of your ankle. When you lay down you giggled. He went back to the door to close it and lock it, just to be sure.

You looked adorable like that and he admired you from a distance. As he slowly walked over to you, he reached for his shirt, and pulled it off his body in a swift motion. You gasped softly when you saw his body. You stopped giggling and sat up straight.

When he reached you, you instantly brought your hands towards his abs. Gliding over them, up toward his pecks, then his shoulders and pulled him down so he was also on the bed now. Sitting, facing you. He smiled and grabbed the hem of your dress again. You were signalling that it was okay for him to take it off this time.

As he did, he kept looking only into your eyes. Words were not really needed right now, all that had to be said was said with actions. He tossed your dress on the floor and you continued making out. You both were feeling up each other’s bodies. When suddenly you reached his dick, you looked at him, asking him if it was okay for you to touch him. He nodded and kissed you again.

As the kiss became sloppy and very heated, you palmed his dick through his jeans. “Uhh..”, he moaned, not being able to wait any longer.He was rock hard already. You giggled. As you kept palming him for a few seconds, he grind his hips against your hand.

When you felt like it was enough you finally put your hand inside his pants, and stoked his dick with your bare hands now. You stopped for a second, so you could take his pants off completely. He helped you, and threw them across the room. You went back to pay attention to his dick and continued to touch him.

As he was now working his way up your back with his hands, undoing your bra. When he did so, he stopped the kiss again, to look at your body. “Wow, you’re so beautiful y/n…”, he said. By now your pussy was soaking wet and while you continued to pump his dick, he kneaded your boob. Kiss being resumed and as your right hand was on his dick, your left hand worked its way to your clit. Waiting to be touched.

He noticed and pushed your hands away. Both from him, as your clit. You looked confused, but right after, he laid you back down on your back. Giggling softly once more, as he smirked at you. “Let me see all of you.”, he said, then pulling off your lace black panties. That gave you butterflies. You just realised how much you really craved this feeling.

When he pulled your panties off, he hovered over you, completely naked. You blushed, but not out of embarrassment, but because of the adrenaline. He pressed a soft kiss on your lips, then neck, collar bones, then stopped at your boobs for a second as one hand kneaded the left one, and then kissed the right one. Taking his time to suck and pull a little on your nipple.

While he was doing so, his other hand went down to your core. When he reached it, he touched you for the first time, making you gasp a bit. “Let me know if there’s anything you don’t want me to do.”, he said and put his middle finger against your slit. Feeling up and down, being impressed by how wet you were.

You just moaned as you hold onto his shoulders and back. He then left your boobs behind and kissed your stomach, abdomen and finally reached your pussy. He looked up at you to make sure you were still comfortable, but when he did he saw you had your eyes closed in ecstasy and threw your head back against the mattress. He smiled.

He then slowly started kissing you lips, as he swirled his tongue around your clit. That made you grab onto his hair, not wanting him to stop whatever he was doing. He knew you were enjoying yourself, so decided to add more motion into it. He also felt like you deserved more already, at the state of you right this second. So he added a finger into the game. He put it in your pussy, in and out, slowly. You pushed his head closer to you to show you didn’t want him to stop.

A few minutes go by. “Chris, uhhh, please, I want more.”, you said pulling him away from down there. Guiding him back to your face, and kissing him again. “Gosh baby, you really want me, don’t you?”, he said breaking the kiss. “I never wanted anything more. Do you have any protection?”, you asked him.

He smiled and walked over to the bathroom. Admiring his butt as he walked out. When he came back you had secretly turned his LED lights to red, which took him by surprise, but loved it so much. He practically jumped back onto the bed. You both sat up and he opened the condom packet. He put in securely around himself and sat down at the headboard. Helping you once more to sit on his lap.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”, he asked, panting, while already a bit sweaty. You nodded and wanted to sit upwards a bit, so you could take him from below. But you hesitated. “What’s wrong? We don’t have to you know, it’s up to you.”, he said making you look at him. You closed your eyes for a second. Let out a sigh and looked up at him again.

“I’m so sorry, I probably should’ve told you this earlier…”, you said as he looked at you confused. “What is it beautiful?”, he asked and put your hair behind your ear. “I uhhh, I am a…this is my first time…”, you said as you felt a guilt in your stomach, since you didn’t tell him before you were already in this state.

He looked at you very surprised. “What? How is that possible, you had a boyfriend and like, wait, huh?”, he spoke. “Well, you see, my ex wanted to wait until marriage. And before I met him, I was always just too scared to, you know…”, you said softly looking down. He smiled at you, rubbing the sides of your arms, trying to let you know it was okay. “Well I would be honoured.”, he said. You looked up and smiled.

“Really? You don’t mind?”, you asked. “Y/n, I’ve never met anyone like you, and you’re someone I really want to keep close. I know that sounds very strange, fast and weird maybe. But you give me a feeling I’ve never felt before. Not only this lust and desire, but also I feel like I can trust you, and you could understand me. And I’ve never felt that way towards anyone before. It would be my pleasure to take your virginity.”, he said and pulled you closer to him again.

You had butterflies all over your body now, and was amazed by his honest words. Nothing else mattered right now, not the job, not the other people with opinions, nothing. You then wanted to resume and finally feel him inside of you.

But of course the doorbell rang. You screamed a little since you didn’t expect it, then quickly laughed at your own spook. Chris pulled you off of him, and quickly put on his sweat pants. Then opened the door of his bedroom. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”, he said as he went over to the front door.

The second he left you had time to really look at the whole situation clearly. You loved it, but at the same time it made you sick. This wasn’t you. You were kind of taken back by yourself and your previous actions.

You carefully got up, trying not to hurt your ankle and hopped over to the mirror. You looked at yourself and felt miserable. Not because you didn’t want to do this with Chris, cause you really wanted to. But you were disappointed with yourself. You finally had a chance to work and earn money, and what do you do, you go and have sex with the guy who offered you the job.

You wanted Chris, but you needed this job, and needed it to work out. You walked over to the tv, where your dress laid on the floor, quickly picked it up. You put it on, also with your bra and panties, of course. When you were fully dressed again Chris walked back in. “The food is here, come on let’s eat.”, he said, also feeling like the moment lost its appeal.

Part 6

...Masterlist...

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

© 2022-2025, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[slippinmickeys]

I have come to you for information, O Wise One. o.o

Can you outline what is normal and not when it comes to showrunners, producers, and executive overhead? For example: what was normal, what was abnormal, and what expected in Chris's battles with Fox? How much control was he already expected to have before The X-Files took off? What are lies or obfuscation on his end? What is the truth behind his claims? Or how can one decipher without an intimate knowledge of behind-the-scenes workings? (For my part: lots and lots of interview deep-diving.)

He often said he had to protect his vision from outside forces... but as far as I've seen, CC ended up getting his way most (if not all) of the time. On the one hand, I get preserving inspiration to keep an endeavor close to one's own "truth"... but on the other, it seems his protective streak went into overdrive more often than not. And, even more often than not, when it wasn't warranted. (I get it stems from his childhood circumstances and etc., but there comes a time when leniency needs to be met with reality. )

I'm not really sure what I'm asking because I don't know what to ask. So. I lay this out to you and hope you can spot and inform my ignorance. :DDDDDDD

I’m not that wise, I’ve just been around the game a long time, have a lot of friends who write for film and television (including showrunners) and have seen a lot. With the initial caveat of pointing out that I have far more experience in film than I do in television—I’m certainly not an authority, though I’ve been around the block—I do feel like I can at least speak to what I’ve seen.

As I’m sure you already know, in television, showrunners are the ultimate authority. They oversee not just the creative direction of the show—running the writers room, hearing pitches on story, shooting down bad ideas, running with good ones—but also the budget, the physical production, post, everything. They’re the intermediary with the studio, who hold the purse strings, and can wield some control, but if you’re a wily enough showrunner, you find a way to get your way, and I think Chris Carter is as wily as they come. It’s a hard job. You have to wear a lot of hats and juggle a lot of everything, and the burnout rate is HIGH. For someone to last as long as Chris Carter has and did (on a show that got as big globally as almost any show ever has) speaks to his capability and guile. (I speak to his capability and guile as Hollywood animal, by the way, I have as many problems with his choices on story and show direction as anyone else.)

Before the show took off, he still would have had a decent amount of power, just in the inherent nature of Showrunner As Position. And Fox was such a young network at the time, I think he was probably a very capable smooth talker, able to navigate his way in order to get his way amongst the various machinations of a studio that was still finding its way. As the show got big and the network got bigger, I think he was given the benefit of the doubt…a lot. I can’t speak to all the battles he had with the network, but I think we have to take him at his word that he won most of them. For better or worse. This was a man who made Fox a LOT of money. I think he’s a guy who knew how to navigate the system he was in and ultimately stayed on top of the snow in every avalanche.

As for lies, truth and obfuscation on his end? I can’t speak to that. I wasn’t there, I don’t know. I can only follow the things that happened as were reported at the time—as you are so capably (honestly, I bow to your skill) doing now, all these years later. You ask how one can decipher these things without an intimate knowledge of behind-the-scenes workings? One can’t. behind-the-scenes workings are different on every show, within every network, and things now don’t work exactly like they used to due to the nature of the ever-evolving beast. Bottom line, only those who were there really know.

What I can say is that I have spoken to him in an intimate setting (as intimate as you can get eating lunch with twenty other people, though I sat directly across from him, and due to the nature of my life experience and job, wasn’t as nervous as I think some of my peers were, so I feel like I was able to absorb a lot), we spoke mainly about the show, and a lot of the stuff he told us “Clyde Bruckman’s prediction of Scully’s immortality informed all the choices I made after that, including Tithonus!” I fucking believed it as I was sitting there. (In retrospect I’m kind of like “…god, really?” But he has an undeniable charisma. And I gotta say, I get why he got his way.)

I wish a lot of things when it comes to this show and his choices. I wish he’d kept a show bible, for one. (“I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist.” JESUS FUCKING CHRIST) But I do respect a lot of what we DID get, and I think we have to give credit where it’s due. Even if David Duchovny and Kim Manners and Gillian Anderson and whoever else wielded their influence where they thought it was necessary. The buck stopped at Chris Carter. That’s just the nature of the television beast. And for a man to survive in his position as long as he did…that man had some serious game. Again, for better or worse.

I’m not sure I answered your questions. Maybe I’m talking completely out of my ass. But this is how I see it.

[shipthecarsons]

I love the idea that the Park and the other Slow Horses have one address for Lamb, but Catherine is the only one who knows where he really lives and neither of them ever talk about. Just for emergencies. Can totally see her knowing the code for his phone too. Just in case.

In my head, she’s almost certainly his next of kin too.

We put this joint drabble together

Thanks for inspiring us

😁👇

Part I. (Me)

It had been almost three months since Jackson Lamb haggled for and won the punishment-detail department of MI5, became king, and, for reasons unknown to a soul, brought Catherine Standish with him. The Aldersgate office—never before used, except for made-up legends—was assigned to them.

Every day, Jackson Lamb stayed in his office. Smoking, drinking, sleeping, resting, doing nothing. Apart from occasional visits from Catherine Standish, who wanted to know, for example, what her job actually involved. At the beginning, he told her it was all about making his tea, opening his mail, and sorting the files. But the kettle was faulty, he had only received two letters so far, and there were no files yet. Eventually, her visits became less frequent as he let her know each time how unwelcome they were—or rather, how unwelcome she was.

That morning, she was particularly bored, so she risked invading his den again. She woke him by placing a weak, lukewarm cup of tea on his desk.

"When are we getting more people in? I feel like we should have more work."

"I am working, Standish."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Working?"

"Yes, hard at it. Can’t you see?"

She paused. He was supposed to be one of the best they had. Maybe this was the way he operated—solving mysteries with his eyes closed.

"A desk is a dangerous place from which to watch the world?" she asked softly, as if in understanding.

"Fucking hell. You’re quoting le Carré, Standish?"

She shrugged.

"Christ, don’t tell me you’ve actually read it."

"I have."

"Before or after you joined the Service?" He seemed genuinely interested now, sipping his tea.

"After."

"I suppose that’s slightly better. No false hope..."

"Charles always said we needed to know le Carré to understand Second Desk’s discourse—"

"The old bastard’s?"

"He quoted le Carré in every meeting he went to."

This was already one of the longest conversations they’d ever had.

"No book could illustrate the outlandish shit we go through, Standish."

"You know John le Carré was actually a spy."

" Then he definitely left out half the outlandish shit he went through. We go through."

She didn’t say anything, just folded her hands, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You shouldn’t read crap like that. It’s not real, you know. But I suppose with the drinking you’ve always struggled with reality, haven’t you?" The first proper taunt of the morning.

"What do you recommend I read, then?"

"Try a fucking cookbook, so you can learn how to make decent tea—"

"The kettle isn’t working properly." She tried.

"—and do it in your own fucking office."

She sighed and hurried out before he decided throwing the mug at her might be a good idea.

The following week, Jackson Lamb got mail—his third letter overall. It was from Mills & Boon, a confirmation for a monthly subscription to their bodice-ripper novels…

She had to read it several times to believe it. Being thorough, she noticed something else: the home address in the letter didn’t match the one in their system...

@aladio-milhomes part II.

The feet were firm on the pavement, but her head felt light.

Her heart though, was right in the midst of it all, literally and figuratively. Racing from the exercise and her sudden decision, but also steady because of the frozen fresh air.

Perfect balance, if it wasn't for all the batty ideas that were crossing her mind.

He did that on purpose? Was it meant for her?

And why on earth would he want her to know something like that?

It hadn't been at plain sight, but easy enough for her to see since she was the one to receive the post and sort it —between the two of them—, not his usual complete spook secrecy either.

She knew almost no personal data was truthful in his file, but she wasn’t expecting this kind of intel, nor she expected to find out this way. She had a subscription letter between her hands, a book subscription. Or was it? This certainly had to be a mistake, or some kind of joke.

Deep down she'd been forever curious about what kind of place a creature like him could inhabit. She always thought it would be the complete opposite of Charles'. And she wasn't wrong.

It was already dark when she went out for her unexpected afternoon stroll.

She didn't see where she was going, nor didn't she need to. Her body was an autonomous being, even though her eyes were looking inwardly.

She felt grateful that since she'd arrived at that corner not a single drop of rain fell, for she had been standing there for quite some time now. Although, on the way here, some wind had shoved water under her umbrella, and her hair was still wet. She really should be going.

He probably wasn't there anyway, but she didn't want to raise suspicions amongst the neighbours either.

Just in case.

However, Lamb had a way to learn about everything, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to justify herself under these circumstances. He wouldn't trust her ever again.

And now that she thought of it, he probably had one of the neighbours trained, with that inherent charm of his, to alert him if something weird like this happened.

Despite her serious inner monologue, her head felt uneasy with giddiness. The kind you start feeling when certain animals flutter in certain organ.

Silly woman. What a daft thing to do.

She took in all she could, while imagining how it would look on the inside. No doubt the same as his office, filthy, smelling of tobacco and sweat and hasn't changed a single wall, stinking of the 70s, like his oily hair. She chuckled.

A car passed her at quite a speed, startling her from her thoughts. At the same time, a glimpse of a very brief orangy blazing spark could be seen on the middle window of the first floor.

Catherine looked back at the house to get a last look, probably for the last time too, and retraced the path that led her there.

He watched her go from the darkness of his room. With a small smile tugging his mouth, full of smoke. "Clever girl."

@onesimus42 part III.

Catherine eyed the object lying in the middle of her desk with suspicion. It certainly wasn’t a style that she would have picked out for herself. Truth be told, it was a bit of a stretch to use the word style and this object in the same sentence. It actually looked enough like one that he wore that she examined it closely determine that it was in fact not pre-worn by himself. After ascertaining that it was at least clean, she took an experimental sniff. It smelled faintly of cigarettes. So, it had been with him, but not worn by him at least.

Turning the bucket hat over, she tried to determine some reason that he would have left this gift on her desk. Did he want her to go undercover? As what? A middle aged man with poor taste? Although deep down, she knew the reason. He had seen her. He had seen her closely enough last night that he knew her hair was wet. That meant there was a good chance that he’d followed her after she left the corner down from his house. She had to admit that if he hadn’t wanted her to notice him following, she likely wouldn’t. With his over-developed sense of protection over her, he’d probably wanted to make sure that she made it home safe.

Now, he wanted her to know that he’d seen her. Did he want her to confront him? Probably not. If he had he would have just called her into his office and given her a good bollocking. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before. No, he just wanted to know that she knew that he knew. Honestly, following his logic made her head hurt.

She was tempted to throw the ugly, bucket hat in the bin. On the other hand, it was a sturdy hat at least. It would keep her hair dry even if the wind blew it in under the umbrella. No need to throw away something useful. To that end, she hung it on her coat rack. At times during the day, she would glance at it and smile softly to herself. She thought, maybe, he might just be a little proud that she had found her way to his house. Not that he’d ever admit it, and she would certainly never mention it.

PS:

next of kin, all goes to her in the will — That’s all 100% true.

We know, they know, he knows, even Diana knows

[polgarawolf1]

Honestly? He's also kind of a lazy writer. I mean, just off the top of my head, in Star Wars: The Clone Wars, aside from completely misisng out on adding any richness or depth (or possible foreshadowing about what Skeevy Sheev might be up to) to the story by working in Sith alchemy, experimental cloning, Nightsister Dark Magicks, or anything at all truly interesting, he just . . . basically goes, "Somehow, Darth Maul survived." And we're supposed to just take that and believe he lives on rage alone, even though he's literally missing the majority of his digestive system (not to mention basically his body's ENTIRE waste management system), having been completely bisected by lightsaber at or slightly above the waist. He makes Ahsoka be assigned to Anakin as a Padawan instead of . . . oh, planning ahead so that someone else always has a claim on her and he's always going to end up losing her because her first Master is still alive, just recovering from something like, say, nearly being killed at Geonosis. That could have opened up SO MANY MORE storylines about the Jedi and how the Jedi Order functions (not to mention how the war might be changing things) - what Jedi do when Masters are too damaged to keep teaching their apprentices; what Jedi do about orphaned and virtually orphaned Padawans; and even, on the flip side, how Jedi generally treat Jedi who lose their Padawans (does the High Council automatically assign such a Jedi another apprentice? No? Why not? Or if not immediately, then when?) - and could've avoided the entire godsawful horrendous stereotypical "let's turn one of the widely seen as being Muslim-coded character into a terrorist" storyline with Barriss Offee, since, again, Anakin would always have to given Ahsoka back up to her original Master, once said original Master's considered fieldworthy again.

He's also lazy in that, instead of doing to work to show character motivations and to give them more/different motivations, he mostly just kills off female characters in order to force people to be sad and then to act out because of their grief and anger or else to add more "pathos" to the story (like it actually NEEDS more!). He fridges Mina Bonteri, Steela Gerrera, Jedi Initiate Kalifa, Jedi Master Adi Gallia, Jedi Master Tiplar, Teckla Minnau, and Satine Kryze (Duchess of Mandalore) in Star Wars: The Clone Wars (and he does kind of the same thing to Rush Clovis, too, arguably, though that's more to drive Padmé - who's basically informally on a break/separated from Anakin because of his behaviour towards Rush Clovis - back into Anakin's arms).

I can't speak much to other shows - I'm perpetually behind on seeing things because we couldn't get streaming even if we could afford it or wanted it. Plus, I just hate the animation design for Rebels - from what I'm given to understand from what I've seen online, though, his laziness as a writer is an ongoing issue. He has a bad habit of coming up with great characters but failing to follow through in any truly meaningful way on their backstories in regards to their cultures. There is SO MUCH we don't know about Mandalore, given how often Mandalore/Mandalorians come up in his shows, that it's not even funny.

Also, I want to sic George Lucas on him every single time the lying LIAR lies about the Jedi in general.

Hi Lumi. This year I’ve watched The Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, and Tales of the Jedi and I’m watching Ahsoka as episodes are released. But I feel like I’m missing some context as to why people are wary of Filoni. What things should I know so I’m caught up, so to speak, in the fandom discussions?

Hi! That's a lot of Star Wars to watch in a year, I hope you're having fun with it all! And I will gently remind everyone that Filoni is not the be-all-end-all of Star Wars creators--Henry Gilroy was there for TCW and Rebels, too. George Lucas was holding writers' meetings years after the show started (at least into 2010!). The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are far more Jon Favreau's shows. The Bad Batch is Brad Rau and Jennifer Corbett. Resistance was developed by him, but was run by other producers. It's just that Filoni tends to get the most camera time and has become the face of Star Wars creators. That said, the issue with Filoni is kind of two-pronged, though, they overlap. 1. He's done a lot of interviews where he's said a lot of anti-Jedi things that have drifted from reasonable critiques in the beginning to eventually "Qui-Gon Jinn was the only true Jedi. [blatantly wrong citations]" This has put a lot of people off him as a creator, because we love the Jedi Order that Lucas talks about and established, which Filoni has actively contradicted over the years, despite being promoted as someone who follows Lucas' themes. And it's hard not to be aware of his interviews when watching his shows and it's hard to enjoy shows that do your faves dirty, you know? 2. His writing has become weaker over the years for a lot of us--Rebels is a show most of us love and found to be incredible. Many of us really love The Clone Wars, which he was heavily involved in/was probably the central voice after Lucas started phasing out. But his biggest story told over the course of those series--basically, the story of Mandalore's history and fall to the Empire--has been extremely thin for a lot of us. And a lot of us get frustrated at his inability to be objective when it comes to Ahsoka's character, that we love her as a character very much, but it hasn't felt like Filoni really knows what to do with her character arc and yet almost everything he writes is centered around her. His final season of The Clone Wars? Gave her the walkabout arc and the Siege of Mandalore arc, both of which often did not hold up well under scrutiny. His episode of The Book of Boba Fett? I actually really loved it, but it absolutely just stopped the pacing of that show to focus a lot on her. More on Luke, but he couldn't resist putting her in there, either. Tales of the Jedi was half devoted to Ahsoka and so much of it wasn't even about her time as a Jedi! We're frustrated because he doesn't set things up well anymore--Morgan Elsbeth is a Nightsister?? Why wasn't that established in The Mandalorian instead of pulling out randomly in Ahsoka? Why does Sabine Wren suddenly so badly want Jedi training, when they barely even had a conversation in Rebels?? There's a lot of good that Filoni has given to Star Wars, I think he genuinely cares about the Force and what it means--he's very consistent on how it's not easy and how it takes discipline and control, that he has been consistent on how anger and fear are paths to the dark side, even his episode of TBOBF had Ahsoka saying, yeah, attachment is a path to the dark side, because the Jedi mean "attachment" in a more Buddhist-aligned way. A lot of his writing for the character of Ahsoka is actually pretty good, like I've been enjoying her being a prickly, traumatized hot mess in the show! It's just that I kind of hate all the interviews he gives and I think he's a lot less objective than a lot of fans and media coverage that would hold him up as a perfect writer/interviewee about all things Star Wars, and it all comes together to make him kind of a hot-button topic.

So, a lot of people LOVE Filoni's work, a lot of people are frustrated by it, a lot of people are casually fine about it, a lot of people HATE Filoni's work and it can be a fun mix of any of the above or even other issues that come up. (And that's all fine! I have my views on Filoni's work, but it's fine if others hate it more than I do or love it more than I do, there's room for us all, all of it is valid.)

But I think if you want to understand some of the roots of this corner of fandom's frustration, two (admittedly long as heck) homework assignment reads would be:

- My own rebuttal to Dave's behind the scenes Mandalorian Gallery talk (this is jokingly referred to as "Davegate" because I refused to take it too seriously) - @david-talks-sw's collection of comparisons between Lucas' commentary on the Jedi and Filoni's commentary on the Jedi

This response itself is more focused on laying out the problems a lot of people have with Filoni's writing, but also honestly I still have my giant collection of Jedi source material citations that quotes his commentary, I still bring up Filoni's quotes in current meta a lot, I still talk positively about the things I enjoy from his shows, so overall there's equal amounts of both praise and criticism here. So, as short as I can make it (which isn't very, shut up, I know! XD), that's basically what people mean when they say they're wary of Filoni.

[vasattope]

I made a post about maybe shipping two actors and I received a comment from someone I don't know saying "please don't ship IRL people..."

I blocked that person and deleted that comment but I think I need to vent so let's talk about this...

Ok, first of all, I don't know you and you don't know me. You don't even follow me and this sure as hell is the first time I see your url so... what makes you think you're entitled to say what I should or shouldn't do? Wtf?

They're not gonna see this post but seriously, what's up with that?

If a mutual wanted to call me out on something that'd be ok. I'm not perfect and everyone has different opinions so sharing different perspectives and constructive criticism on whatever topic we're discussing are always welcomed on my end... But not an order and not from someone I don't know.

And second of all, do you know the difference between reality and fiction? Because I do. And for me shipping is pure fiction.

And, well, even if it wasn't (which isn't the case but let's pretend for a second), I'm in my little corner of the internet minding my business and sharing with people who might be interested. I'm not screaming at their faces or sharing fandom content with the people I ship, so I'm not hurting anyone.

Also, as I said, it's my blog, if you don't like what you see in a post like that you can either ignore it or block me, but don't tell me what to do if you don't even know me, wtf?