#but my first account is from before that was implemented and then i just made a new account by accident

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

i want a writing program that lets me separate by chapter but still have everything collected in one place, has a sidebar for notes both specific to a chapter and also always available, and has a daily word count tracker

right now im using WritingHabit, which started as a googledocs extension and then is now its own thing, and its nearly perfect except for the notes thing. theres a notepad per chapter and a plot points list, but i want multiple notepads. the way i outline is not compatible with any program ive tried :(

[auspicioustidings]

I love your work! May I please request ghost finding a captured civilian in an enemy base and taking her for himself?

Ah little posessive freak Ghost my beloved <3 I didn't know if you were looking for fluff or twisted Simon so I've leant towards the latter!

CW: Attempted rape (non-graphic), kidnapping

They had been warned there were going to be civillians in the building, but it wasn't the first time Ghost had to work around hostages to get the job done. It was an understanding on the team that whereever possible it wasn't going to be the huge fucker in the skull mask who dealt with that side of things. If they knew where hostages were being kept, that's where they sent Gaz or Johnny or even Price to settle them and get them out. Not the Ghost.

And that was working smoothly once again. Gaz had radioed in saying he found where they were being kept, had taken out their guards and would wait for the all clear for an exit route for the handful of doubtless terrified little civilians looking at him like he was the second coming for saving them.

They were all accounted for and that always made Ghost feel some tension bleed away. The last thing he needed to be worrying about was hostage situations.

The rest of the mission was easy enough, taking out any enemies and finding the saferoom to snoop around in for intel. It was laughably easy to get into. Saferooms only really worked if the person who knew the code didn't spill it at the first little twist of an arm, the press of a knife against their throat. They only worked if they were used. But obviously playing at warlord the man was arrogant, thought he could easily take on whoever came at him. Idiot. The moment he had the code, Ghost had no more use for him until he could get him somewhere for a proper interrogation, so he was smacked in the skull with a pistol and out cold. His fingerprints and eye scanner worked just fine even with him unconcious and the code he had given beeped with a green light and the click of a lock.

It was a damn good thing that you assumed it was your captor coming in and so were aiming the cast iron at where his face would be. Instead it smacked into the tactical vest of a much taller man. You hissed and spat and fought like a feral cat when the man immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist and twisting so you cried out and dropped the pan. There went your weapon, there wasn't much else to use in this little safe room but for the small implements in the kitchen and you hadn't felt confident with a knife. A blunt object with a larger surface area had felt like a better bet.

"Don't fucking touch me! I'll claw your fucking eyes out!" you spat out at what you were sure was a bloody monster.

You had been a victim of wrong place wrong time about 12 hours prior. You had broken down on a stretch of road that barely got any use and had fuck all phone signal to get help, so were at the mercy of someone passing by. Just your luck the someone passing by was some slimy asshole with a compound nearby he thought to drag you to. He had found out quickly he wasn't getting his hands on you without a fight. You were a bit of a mess, shirt torn and what you suspected was a cracked orbital bone from where he had punched you after you bit his tongue. You wished you had bit fucking harder.

The only thing that had saved you in the end was the alarm going off. The man had thrown you into the safe room, telling you that once he had dealt with whoever dared break into his base he was going to fuck you bloody. You'd kill him before he got the chance. You'd fucking kill him before all this adrenaline fuelled fight turned into fear and had you accepting your fate.

The monster in the skull mask didn't have the laugh of a monster. It was gruff but there was something very genuine about it. He had his hands on both of your wrists, locking them so you couldn't scratch at him with yout body pulled right into him so you couldn't kick either. Your wrists were pinned at your chin so you couldn't even bite at him. Didn't much stop you from fighting, trying to just drop all of your weight to get him off balance. The added weight did not phase him in the slightest.

"Settle sweetheart, I'm the good guy."

"Do good guys often wear skull masks?!" you hissed back, still struggling to no avail.

He manouvered so that you could see out of the doorway and to the passed out man on the floor.

"They do when they're going after bad guys."

It was like all the adrenaline had finally burned off at right that moment and you felt yourself go boneless in his hold, fight gone. You had a sick moment of being disappointed that you could see that the man was still breathing.

"We sure all the civilians are accounted for?"

You felt a little dazed as you squinted back at him before realising he must have been speaking on the radio. Whatever he heard back must have been interesting because he looked at you, considering, before twisted the little dial to another channel.

"Got a stray, let's keep it out of the reports."

Simon knew that the 141 would back him up. After all, him and the Seargants had always admired the relationship between Price and his wife even if when they first met she kept trying to murder him. She had grown out of it after a few years.

And Simon had never felt like this before. He thought you truly would have killed him if you had been able when he opened the door. It was love at first murder attempt for him.

He cooed at you and comforted you the whole way through exfil. It wasn't until you realised that you couldn't leave that it really started getting fun.

[whohasthecards]

HC that after the mission and the dagger squad gets closer, Mav ramps up his petnames game as he showers his adopted children with affection. He doesn't even notice he does it. The first few times everyone was embarassed, but leaned to it. However, they realized that Hangman seemed to be affected the most. Constantly blushing or looking down or shutting up whenever Mav gave him a particularly affectionate pet name.

Most commonly used by Mav/Ice to everyone: Buddy, Kiddo, Kid, Son, Baby

Some of the most used petnames for the squad (although he uses the same nicknames for the others, some nicknames stuck more to certain people):

---

The dagger squad stayed over for the night after movie night went on for far too long. Most of them still sprawled around the living room, some on the couch, air mattress, or straight up on the floor. Bob woke up the earliest that day and started up the coffee.

Mav clambered down a moment after, drawn by the scent and Bob handed him a mug.

Mav smiled at him and reached out to ruffle his hair, "Thank you, sunshine."

Mav clambered out the kitchen saying something about ordering breakfast for them, as Bob stood there blinking mouth wide open.

---

Phoenix and Mav were debating strategy regarding case studies of past missions that could be applied in the future. The argument got a bit heated as they couldn't decide on the best solution for one of the sections.

Phoenix sat down with a sigh, "Dammit, both have good points, both have flaws, but the only deciding factor would be the people doing the mission, but it's not like we have detailed information on the personnel for this case study!"

Mav chuckled, "Didn't expect you to get this riled up, how about we put our opinions on what kind of personnel are best suited for each mission, yeah?"

"Sure, Mav," Phoenix muttered. "Hand me that pen?"

"Of course, Firecracker," Mav said smiling as he handed over the pen. "Hey, how about we go on break? There's a bakery nearby I've been meaning to try, and maybe that would reset our minds, yeah?"

Phoenix blinked at the nickname, then started standing up when Mav mentioned a break. "Yeah, let's go, Admiral, you're paying though," Phoenix said smirking at him.

---

"Mav, I need some advice regarding some maintenance on my car, since I know you fix stuff up," Payback said walking beside the older man.

"Sure kid, what's up?"

They started troubleshooting the best course of action, and who to took too to get the plan approved and implemented. This went on for a while until they were both satisfied.

"Thanks, Admiral Mitchell," Payback said smiling shyly as he realized how much of the man's time he took up.

Mav snorted as he clapped a hand around the younger man's shoulder, "Don't start with that Admiral shit when it's just us, kid. Come on Champ, let's get that car of yours fixed up."

---

"--The different seasons of the show have a variety of reviews, personally I found the first season good, and it kind of went a bit downhill from there, but that could just be nostalgia talking--," Fanboy babbled on gesturing wildly as Mav nodded along listening as he got caught up on Pop Culture.

It was very interesting, and as long as Fanbog kept on talking, he'd be able to keep up conversing with the others.

"--and then there's also the movies which are a classic-- oh sorry," Fanboy said suddenly freezing looking down on his lap.

Mav frowned, "What's wrong, kid?"

"I was talking too much and annoying you--"

"No, you weren't," Mav said putting an arm around his shoulder. "Now, come one whiz-zy, tell me more about the movies I should watch."

The smile Fanboy gave him made him realize that he should probably get a Netflix account, now.

---

"8 ball to corner pocket," Coyote said before lining up his shot.

"You got this, kid," Mav said sipping on his beer as the younger man lined his shot up.

Coyote focused on trying to see the angle to bank the cue ball on the rail, to hopefully brush the 8 just enough to push it to the corner. If he messed up, he'd practically be setting Mav up to win.

He took the shot. 8-ball went in.

He gave a small cheer in celebration as he whirled around to look at Mav who gave him a salute with his beer.

"You're buying drinks, old man," Coyote said grinning wildly as he rested his cue stick on the wall.

"Of course, Cub," Mav said patting the younger man's back as he walked to the bar to order one of those fancy craft beers the younger man, liked.

---

Bradley woke up to the white ceilings of the sick-bay, where he was herded to with Mav after that suicide-not-so-suicide, mission.

"You up, buddy?"

Bradley turned his head to his side to see Mav, sitting up on his own bed, munching on, McDonald's?

"How'd you get, McDonald's-?" Bradley croaked out, squinting to see if this was real.

Mav snorted, before eating another fry, "Ice brought us some, here's your share, kiddo," Mav said standing up to hand Bradley his own greasy, McDonald's paper bag.

"Are you supposed to be standing up-? Are we supposed to be eating this?" Bradley said sitting up as he took the food handed to him.

"Hey, do you want the food or not?" Mav said , raising a brow.

"... Thank you, for the food, Mav," Bradley said as he munched on his fries.

Mav gave him a bright smile, before pulling Bradley in for a quick hug and a kiss to the forehead. "Of course, Baby Goose."

Bradley stared up at Mav wide-eyed as the older man pulled away and Mav noticing this, winced.

"Sorry, Rooster, I shouldn't have overstepped-"

"NO! No, it's fine," Bradley said looking down on the food on his lap as he tugged lightly on the older man's shirt. "It's fine, Uncle Mav."

He missed this.

---

Jake felt a hand run through his hair, making him humm in content as he leaned towards the touch.

"Hey, buddy, how are we doing today?" The gentle voice of his Captain said.

Jake blinked his eyes open, wondering why Mav was here sitting on the edge of the bed. Wait. Where is he?

"Mav?" Jake croaked out.

"That's me, buddy, are you feeling better?" Mav said continuing to stroke Jake's haid.

Right, he was sick, Mav noticed, brought him home to sleep in his guest room for a nap..

"Hmmm, not sure, a bit I guess," Jake said. "What time is it?"

"Dinner time, are you up for some soup?" Mav asked as Jake shrugged.

"Not really hungry."

"How about some soup and hot chocolate?" Mav asked, smiling when he saw Jake perk up.

His hot chocolate was one of Dagger Squad's favorites.

"Can I have extra whipped cream?" Jake asked, eyes pleading up at Mav as he nuzzled towards the older man's side.

Mav kept on running his hand through Jake's hair as he pressed a smile to the boy's temple. "Of course, little prince."

---

Later on the Dagger Squad practically combusts when Iceman starts doing the same thing to them.

[valyrfia]

i was thinking about the drivers who don’t have a wdc yet and are most likely to win one in the next 5 years with their current team and this is what i came up with re - their chances:

1. charles - i think his best chance to win his first is 2025. now inarguably, ferrari is the team which has the most left to gain from these set of regulations. they have made some absolutely stupid development choices and still they are pretty competitive? if the rumors are true and they are switching their suspension for next year, it should gear the car balance more towards charles and and that’s all he needs to win races consistently. and i don’t think lewis would instantly be comfortable enough in a new team to contend for the championship (i might be wrong) but charles is the ferrari man.

2. george - my intuition is that mercedes is going to nail the 2026 regulations. and purely that’s why george is probably winning the championship in 2026. he mostly won’t get intense competition from kimi until atleast his 3rd year in f1 just because he is still so young. and max is not leaving red bull before 2026 because switching teams before regulations change would be stupid.

3. lando - now this is where it gets interesting. maybe i don’t really like the guy too much but imo his best chance to win a wdc is 2024. mclaren have a significant pace advantage over the rest rn but it’s not going to stay that way. they will hit a development ceiling and teams will converge. and i think mclaren are going to implement team orders to help lando this year and just because oscar is still in his 2nd season and a little further away from lando in points, he will have to oblige. but this is mostly the last year lando will have that advantage over oscar and unless one of them switch teams, none of them are winning a wdc.

4. oscar - i see him winning a wdc after 2026. now i don’t know out of him and lando, who is leaving the team but i am sure one of them is going to red bull in the future.

i haven’t taken aston martin and newey into account here yet because there are just too many unknowns in that team right now. but somehow i have the feeling they are not going to cook as everyone is expecting them to.

sorry this is so long but i thought since you love hypotheticals you might have some thoughts on this!

I agree with this analysis! Ferrari haven't actually been that bad this time round with the regulations, and while I'm sure they're also looking to nail 2026, they've been vocal about aiming for 2025 with the arrival of Lewis. It will be interesting to see how Ferrari might handle Charles being the one with the championship charge considering their other driver is Lewis Hamilton though...they don't have the best track record with team orders as is.

I agree that Toto is putting all his willpower into the 2026 regulations, however I'm not sure this will mean Merc will win in 2026 necessarily, considering Ferrari are focusing on the same thing. I think Merc will jump back up the field again (since I would probably place as the 4th fastest car in this set of regulations). I also think there's a high possibility that politics at Merc will start to go bad, fast. Toto's made it clear that he wants Max, and if Kimi performs well George could be in real danger. I think Toto will be backing Kimi for WDC contention from 2026 onwards (hence why he wanted him in the car for 2025), so I unfortunately don't see George winning a WDC with Mercedes.

Lando is interesting, because I think there's a good chance that if he gets a WDC, he'll pull a Nico Rosberg and retire from F1 and focus on Quadrant and other pursuits. I get the feeling especially in the last year that F1 is bringing him far more grief than joy, and the massive backlash hasn't helped. I think this is his best year to win that WDC–Andrea Stella wants the future of McLaren to be Oscar and has made that quite clear, and I don't see them choosing him to be their championship contender in the future after this year just from the perspective of "well we tried that, it didn't work". If Lando doesn't win this year, I think he'll stick around for a few more years and maybe even move to Red Bull if Max moves to Mercedes, but I think this might be his clearest chance at the WDC. Especially if the rumours about team orders are true– if McLaren are front of the field again next year, they're giving Oscar priority. I actually DON'T think this is entirely fair–if a decision like this was to be made essentially trading off Lando's WDC chance next year, it needed to be made before the summer break since that points deficit to Max gets harder and harder to overcome with each passing race. But I agree, this is Lando's best shot at it.

Oscar might be a possibility for next year (again if the team orders rumours are true), but we've seen him not be able to beat Charles (who would likely be another title contender) for the last couple of races despite Charles being in a far worse car. So, I would think it's more likely that Oscar fights Charles for future titles once Charles has a WDC, or Oscar is fighting the Mercedes that is being built around Kimi Antonelli. I don't think Oscar will go to Red Bull purely because of Mark Webber–I think Lando is more likely at this point to get pushed out of McLaren.

I will add two things: first I don't think we need to worry about Aston and Newey. This is Newey's retirement project and while I can see Aston improving (and maybe even getting Fernando Alonso a race win), they won't be title contenders. Second, Max Verstappen is a wildcard still. Either he retires soon, or for all the talk of retirement when he was dominating, losing that top step has turned the hunt back on in him and he will want to fight for another WDC after 2024. I can see him moving to Mercedes, or if Lewis ends his Ferrari contract early (as I suspect he might), moving to Ferrari. Heavy on the Ferrari especially, considering Charles has said he'd have Max as a teammate, Fred is obviously deranged enough to go with two n1 drivers as a driver pairing, Max has a personal Michael Schumacher connection, and Ferrari have a history of wanting WDCs in their seats.

[patchofgrey]

Some one-shots to write out my head cannons for them. Nejiten Head cannon explanations: part one More Nejiten fanfictions by me: ffdotnet | A03

(art by me...main account: @rikustarlight)

Head cannon: Their first kiss was an impulsive mistake. --

It was almost lunch time. They had been training since well before the sun began to rise and hadn’t stopped since. He was actually surprised that she was willing to wake up as early as they did; she liked her sleep. And yet, she was ready when he tapped at her window, fully dressed and wide awake. Granted, he was a bit surprised when she approached him about a new training time, and was especially surprised when she shared that she wanted to develop a new move with him. This new training schedule had been implemented for the past four weeks and they both seemed to be better off for it. It gave them time to just experiment without Gai and Lee around, it was quiet, and they would really take their time. Tenten was full of determination to have something unique before they retook their chunnin exams. He hummed to himself as he looked at her from a tall wooden post in the middle of the field. His stomach rumbled a bit. She was looking at him from her spot on the ground, expectantly with her cheeks puffed up and her hands on her hips.

“Tenten, maybe we should take a break.” He called to her from a tree. “We’ve been at this for a few hours now. I know you’re tired.”

The bunhead shook her head and turned her back to him. “I almost have it, Neji. Just one more time…” 

“You said that the last time,” the Hyuga murmured. “This is also unlike you. You take your breaks very seriously.”

“Neji, c’mon! I want to get this right!” She whined as she twisted herself to him. “I want a technique that’s unique to me just like how you and Lee have one. I’m so close to getting it right…just one more time!”

“Then, I do have lunch plans with Shikamaru. He should be here shortly.”

“I know, I know! Just please, Neji?”

A sigh escaped his lips. Ever since he started training with his uncle and cousin, he’s missed out on a few of their own training sessions. Sometimes, Neji would bring Tenten to the estate to watch or to (rarely) join in. Hiashi knew that the bunhead had assisted his nephew in his training; he had no issue with having her around.

It was a break from their routine, and he did feel bad for just dropping her to train at the Hyuga estate. Neji owed Tenten big time for helping him develop his rotation for the second fight round of the chunnin exams. However, he did try his best to spend time with her. Whenever he could, he’d stop by her house with sweets; usually as an apology for skipping out on their usual schedule. When they went on missions together, he would always try to buy her something or help her search for something worth bringing back home…like a scroll or some interesting weapons they would come across. He wanted to show his appreciation for her friendship and partnership. She’d smile at him whenever he brought her something. That smile made his chest swell and brighten his mood. Tenten wasn’t materialistic, but it was the best Neji could do for the time being. He would also help her polish and sharpen her blades, and help her around the house if her parents were out. Sometimes, she would get mad at him. He was too helpful; she could do most things herself, but Neji insisted or he would just do it. Balancing his new responsibilities and his friendship was difficult. Tenten was his closest friend after all. 

“Yo!” A voice called from behind Neji.

The pair looked over and saw Shikamaru heading their way. The shadow manipulator nodded at Tenten before turning to Neji and inquiring about their lunch plans. They were going to go one last round, hopefully seeing some improvement. Shikamaru hummed and watched as Tenten reached for her scrolls. He knew she had been working with Neji for a few weeks on this; the Hyuga had shared it with him over a few games of Go. The Nara would ask about her progress and offer some tips to the Hyuga to further assist her. Neji had also expressed that he was worried that his teammate felt some type of way because she did not have a “fancy technique” or a kekkei genkai. She had become obsessed with the idea that she needed something extra and not seeing that she was great how she currently was; she had skills he and Lee struggled in. Tenten was queen of the ninja fundamentals with her perfect aim and adaptability to manage any situation. He didn’t like that Tenten thought she wasn’t good enough. Shikamaru was rather curious as to why the Hyuga made it a priority to ensure Tenten’s wellbeing; sure they’re best friends and teammates but the way he doted in her was a bit…overbearing and protective. As if he felt somewhat responsible to keep Tenten happy. 

“I’ll be over there,” Shikamaru pointed to a nearby tree. “Let me know when you’re ready.” 

Tenten faced Neji fully, determination and exhaustion in her face. They were both tired and hungry. She wanted to finally get this right and see her hard work pay off. Her hands started to weave signs and she channeled her chakra to her fingers. Neji dropped into a defensive stance and she summoned twin blades. 

The Nara watched curiously as they clashed. They moved with such speed and flow it was if they were dancing. He could see why Neji had asked him for advice; it was hard to train with Tenten because they knew almost everything about each other and they had synced up perfectly due to their training. He watched as Tenten’s hands flowed blue, her chakra pouring into her swords. She was in control of this spar, provoking Neji’s next moves, just as Gai-sensei had taught them. The Hyuga swung his own kunai and the bunhead launched herself over him. Mid-jump, Neji watched as she launched her blades at him, her chakra still attached by string like connections. 

Dancing twin blades!

Shikamaru hummed in amusement as Tenten manipulated her blades and attacked Neji with her taijutsu at the same time. Her movements were swift and held rhythm; there was a tempo she was keeping in order to control the fight and since Tenten was able to adjust herself to Neji’s tempo, she was still in control of the situation. This would be quite the drag on the battlefield…she could take out multiple enemies at once with this…and use it as a diversion. The Nara’s dark eyes attempted to track their movements, but he gave up after a while due to the speed in which they were moving. He expected nothing less from Team Gai and their outer worldly speed and stamina. A hum escaped the chunnin’s  throat as he watched Tenten’s chakra rope entangle around Neji; his evasion was no match for Tenten. Her blades whipped back into her hands and she paused. Both panted heavily as they stood still. This technique was very taijutsu dependent and ever since Tenten was humiliated by Temari, she was determined to get better so it would never happen again. Neji had encouraged her to continue to work on her taijutsu; she wasn’t lacking with it, she just needed to incorporate it more into her weapons handling so she could fight in close combat. 

“I…did it.”

Neji let out a hum as the chakra strings faded. Tenten had a lot of chakra which surprised him a bit when they first started sparring. She had way more than he did, and she was continuing to develop it further. Her ability to create solid chakra strings was more of a puppeteer specialty, however, she was able to control the flow as she fought. That form of multitasking was hard to maintain, especially since Neji would be in her face trying to crack her concentration. This with her perfect aim…this is some ANBU shit she’s working on… Shikamaru thought with a smirk. Impressive. 

“Holy shit, I finally did it!” Tenten exclaimed brightly.

Straightening himself, the Hyuga congratulated her on her victory. The bunhead gave a yelp and jumped at her triumph; she had finally perfected her form and technique to her liking. Neji’s face was soft as he called to her. 

“Your hard work paid off, Tenten.” He offered a small smile. “You officially have a technique unique to-mmf!”

Neji’s eyes grew wide as Tenten ran over to him. He felt warmth on his face and his mouth was unable to move. Her arms had flung around his neck and the Hyuga felt something luscious against his own lips. Time had stopped for what seemed to be forever. He could hear Shikamaru give a small gasp of surprise; Neji had forgotten for a split second the Nara was even there. The sweet sent of Tenten’s citrus shampoo filled his nostrils as they embraced. This is…his body froze. She’s… The bunhead’s puckered lips gave a light pop as she removed herself from him. A dazzling smile had spread on her face as she continued to hold him. The Hyuga remained stunned, his brain registering that she had indeed just kissed him. 

“Neji, you’re the best!” She chirped. “I can’t thank you enough for this!”

She released him and took a step back with her smile remaining on her face. Neji’s lips remained slightly ajar as he looked at her in wonder. It took a cough from Shikamaru for the prodigy to snap out of whatever shock he was in. His cheeks were hot and it had tracked to his ears. He felt no embarrassment as he smiled back at her. In a way, the kiss felt right. 

“Of course.” He said. “Anything for you, Tenten.”

Suddenly, Tenten’s eyes grew wide and her cheeks puffed up. It’s possible she had just registered what she had done and now her blush was creeping up her neck. 

“I’ll-uh- get going then. Since Shikamaru is here and you guys have plans…see you later?” The bunhead couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Hn.” The Hyuga nodded and watched as she waved at them before making her way out of the training fields.

Shikamaru whistled, which caused the Hyuga to snap his attention to his friend. The Nara had a wide grin on his face.

“What?” Neji cocked an eyebrow. 

Shikamaru’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Dude, you still expect me to believe the two of you are just friends after seeing that?”

The blush was still present on Neji’s face as he rolled his eyes and prompted them to go have their lunch. Shikamaru had accused Neji of having some kind of crush on the bunhead for some time now and this was just too good to back up that assumption. The Nara was not going to let this go, especially since he had the delight of seeing the Hyuga genius in a completely different light of embarrassment. He was going to revel in this moment.

Tenten looked at herself in the mirror. She had just showered after eating her lunch and was trying to process what she had just done to Neji at the training grounds. Did she really just kiss him? She definitely did. Her lips pursed together as she recalled her actions. It wasn’t anything in malice, granted Neji would’ve pushed her off if he was offended by it. Wait, he didn’t push me off. A small gasp was heard.  Maybe he was too surprised to react? In a way she did just technically jump him. But, she pressed her whole mouth on his and kissed him. Running a hand through her damp hair, she sucked her teeth. There was a potential that she could’ve just ruined her friendship with him and now their dynamic would be awkward. And to top it off, it was in front of someone else. Part of her was relieved that it was Shikamaru and not Lee or Gai. They would’ve made such a big deal about it. She could practically hear their declarations of youth and further embarrassment. 

“If he never talks to me again…I totally get it. What the hell was I thinking?” 

That’s it, she wasn’t thinking. She had the intention of grabbing him for a hug, something that was normal for them especially when alone. She hadn't even realized she had kissed him until after she saw his face. I hope he doesn’t hate me after that, mused as she brushed her hair. He did say he would see her later…so, it’s possible he wasn’t mad at her. A bit of guilt washed over her; Neji was a very private person but he was very open about his thoughts to her. Hopefully, he would come to see her later and she could apologize. It was completely out of line for her to do so…he’d forgive her, right? 

After a few minutes, Tenten had finished brushing her hair. She changed into her civilian clothing and sat on her floor. A distraction is what she needed in the meantime. If he didn’t come, she would take herself to his apartment and apologize; it was only right, she thought as she looked through her scrolls. 

Tap tap

Her eyes shot to her balcony. Neji stood in his own civilian clothes, a white T-shirt with dark grey shorts. His curse mark was covered by bandages and his hair was released from the confines of his usual low ponytail. In his hands was a small box. Sweets, she blinked. So, he’s not mad at me. Standing, she opened her balcony door and stepped aside to let him in. The Hyuga took off his shoes and eyed the scrolls littered on her bedroom floor in curiosity, concluding she was probably working on her seals. His gaze traveled back to her and realized her hair was down; she had just finished showering. Her hair curled slightly at the ends as it was evident that she had just brushed it. Neji had only seen Tenten’s hair down once before, during a mission where they had to disguise themselves to gather information. Noticing that she had caught him looking at her, he cleared his throat.

“I got you some red bean buns.” He held up the box. “You liked them last time we tried this desert place…”

“O-oh, thanks! I’ll make us some tea.” Tenten took the box from him and set it on her coffee table. 

Neji hummed as she hustled downstairs and was quick to heat some water. The Hyuga looked around her room. This wasn’t the first time he had been in her apartment. Gai had made it a point to go to each of their houses and introduce himself as their Sensei once they had become gennin. Her room was usually kept neat except for the occasional bundle of opened scrolls where she studied and worked on creating her seals. By her vanity was their team picture they took after passing Gai’s requirements and not being sent back to the academy. A small smile reached his face as he looked at the photo. His team photo was on his bookshelf in his room next to a picture of himself and his father. 

“Okay, tea and buns…” the door had opened and Tenten emerged with a tray.

They sat at the coffee table in silence. The bunhead had full intentions of apologizing…but how does she bring up the topic to him? She could just blurt out her apology, but then the mood would be awkward. Well, it’s kind of awkward right now… she thought to herself as she sipped her tea. 

“How was lunch with Shikamaru?” She asked after a moment of pondering her first point of conversation.

“It was…interesting.” He replied. “We went to get ramen, played Go for a bit…spoke about a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?” She cocked an eyebrow.

His ivory eyes met hers and held their stare for a moment. Her face was showing pure curiosity, and her lips-those incredibly soft and warm lips- were slightly protruding into a slight pout as she waited for him to elaborate.  

“W-well…” he felt his cheeks get warm. “About earlier.”

Tenten’s eyes got wide and her own cheeks flushed a bright red. “Neji, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me! I just got caught up in the moment and I didn’t mean to offend you if I did-“

Neji gave a chuckle which caused Tenten to purse her lips together. “Tenten, it’s alright. I was just surprised. I know it was an accident.”

Something lingered in the air as he said the word accident. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the word itself, but that is what that kiss was; an accident. Then, something dawned on Tenten that horrified her; she never recalled Neji ever mentioning that he had a girlfriend or an interest in other people. That means…

“Was that…” she murmured with big eyes. “Did I take your first kiss?”

A hesitant nod. Tenten gave a loud yelp at this before apologizing again, her blush faded at the horror she just committed. She kissed him unprompted and took his first kiss. She was a shit friend and was so besides herself. Why was he being so nice to her if she took his first kiss? The weapons specialist had just taken something that could not be given back! And he was sitting right in front of her and not angry with her? 

“Tenten.” His calm voice snapped her from her internal self deprecating monologue. 

A frown was on her lips as she looked at him. 

“Was that your first kiss, as well?”

Now that was a question that she didn’t think she’d have to answer. The heat of her shame sprouted once more and she nodded sheepishly. At this, Neji looked at her with surprise. 

“W-why?” She mustered up the question.

A cough. “Well, I just would’ve assumed that you have had your first kiss already by how you…”

She looked at him expectantly. Why did he pause? What was he about to say? 

“You did it so…”

Tenten leaned in, the anticipation was killing her and she was getting restless with  how awkward he was getting.  

“So…what?” She pushed.

His lips parted, then swiftly closed with a smack. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, in fact he was struggling to piece a coherent sentence together where he wouldn’t try to seem as though he was insulting her or sounded like an absolute boob. Her kiss had warmth that sent a shiver down his spine in delight, the cushions of her lips were a perfect fit against his when she smashed them against him. He had assumed that she had experience kissing someone. If he recalled correctly, Tenten was one of the cuter girls in their academy years and she was approached by many of the boys. That means she’s probably never had a relationship yet either… the Hyuga thought. To be fair, they barely had time for such things. Now, boys probably avoided her due to the fact that they were always together; Shikamaru was fully convinced at one point that they had been dating. The way Neji would dote on Tenten was seen as more than just friends. But that’s what it was; Neji values Tenten’s friendship with him and he wanted to show his appreciation through doing things for her and making sure she’s happy. What was wrong with that? He was repaying her, in a way, for all the times she was there for him. He could see why Shikamaru thought they were dating. Neji genuinely cares for Tenten and made it a personal goal to keep track of her well being since she was so hard on herself. 

He sighed mentally as he thought about the conversation he had with the shadow manipulator. The Nara had teased him for a while before they actually spoke about it; how Neji felt about what had just happened. He knew he’d have to approach Tenten about it, it was in their best interest to talk about the kiss. Shikamaru pointed out that Tenten had seemed the most comfortable with Neji, and since they knew everything about each other, this situation can be easily resolved. But what did that mean exactly? How did Neji want to resolve this if he didn’t see this as a problem? His mind lingered back to the sensation of her lips against his and he scratched the back of his head.

“Neji! Out with it!” Tenten groaned. “I did it so…what?”

“I…nevermind. It’s nothing…”

Her brown eyes rolled. Typical, she thought as she took a bite of her bun.

“Can we agree to not say or mention it again?” The weapons mistress spoke after a moment. “Just…forget about it?”

Oh, he looked at her in slight surprise. Neji rubbed his thumb against his tea cup, uncertain if he wanted to even forget about it. 

“Tenten.”

Her eyes got wide as she watched him slowly lean closer to her. His ivory eyes were gentle as his face got closer to hers.

 “Do you really want to forget about it?” He whispered a bit solemnly. 

Chewing on her bottom lip, she shook her head. Her curls bounced slightly and she couldn’t meet his gaze. He took that as a no, but wanted to hear it from her mouth. Neji continued to gaze at her, watching as she fell into deep thought. Over thinking again…his eyebrows arched in concern. An idea sprouted in his mind as he looked at her.

“Look at me, Tenten.” The byakugan user commanded gently. 

And she did. Her eyes met his and she suddenly felt small. Her embarrassment was very apparent and he could tell that she did not want to forget about the kiss. It was smart since it could lead to further distractions. But something in Neji’s chest told him to not let this go. His hands slowly raised, his fingers gently grazing against her cheeks. Swiftly, the prodigy pressed his lips against hers as he cupped her face in his hands. Warm and soft. His lips molded perfectly with hers. Tenten’s body jumped slightly at the sudden action, but she did not pull away. The two of them sat there, fully embracing each other. Neji wasn’t sure how to break it off��not that he really wanted to. And yet he needed to breathe and unfortunately he did remove his lips from hers, his forehead leaning against hers. 

“Neji…wha-“ her eyes were half lidded and her lips were pink.

A smile spread across his face. “Now, we’re even.”

[cator99]

Yesterday I overheard Pins Girl loudly gabbing abt how much time she spends talking to chatgpt which was not a thing I thought people did but she was conveying this information to couchbound ftm because she got upset when it said something fatphobic and wouldn't apologize properly no matter what prompt she gave it and it kept saying "I know you're offended but..." so she repeatedly told it to apologize properly without using the word "offended" but it was like "it sounds like you're offended" I am absolutely bewildered but I'm glad she has this outlet because if she cant redirect this energy towards a non sentient thing then it just gets doled out at the people around her like the time I made a joke in the house chat and used the word "bombed" in a colloquial sense and she got all People Are Literally Dying From Bombs Right Now Tyler and I apologized and she gave me the silent treatment for a week before someone else in the house told me on her behalf that she didnt find my apology sufficiently grovellingand that it was very racism of me to not Take More Accountability for what I said so I wrote a more lengthy apology that was actually very sincere (an old housemate who is black and doesnt like her heard about the issue and took it upon himself to feed me some Pins Girl Appeasing Lines for me to implement as well just in case me trying to Heart To Heart it out with her wasn't enough lmao) and believe it or not that was recieved very much worse lol and that's whatever but the big thing right now though is that I've been contemplating how I'm gonna approach the conversation with the landlord about her recently breaching the lease conditions because yep I've already set that in motion and requested that the conversation stay between us which the landlord is totally game for because she's just about had it with these people the thing it that due to Pins Girl's lack of consideration and foresight she has managed to concoct a situation that when (not if) the landlord finds out, well, its curtains for zoosha. I want to make it very clear that I had nothing to do with this nonsense. It's not that I think anyone should be evicted however I have finally reached housing stability for the first time in my life and am pretty invested in saving my own ass here. The situation was preventable and entirely unnecessary but these people have very early-20s ideas about resisting authoritay even if that means potentially screwing over other broke people. I suppose this is of less concern to her now that she's on government assistance but girl I am working my ass off here not to get homeless again I've had enough

[captainmartin20]

earlier this year i remember all the cc fans on here shutting down their accounts when they tried to spin the racism bit on her or they just unstanned i think i was following you at the time and you said something like you were just gonna step away or just not post about her till she cleared it up. do you mind me asking what convinced you to go back to posting her soon after when everyone was like still scared to for whatever reason. i love your account and cc i’m just curious and always admired that you didn’t let it sway you like it did others.

hi anon!

yes I do remember posting that I'll be limiting my posts to only posting about her when it's related to Kate. I guess I kind of fell into the trap of blindly believing what everyone else was saying at first, forgetting that opinions are different from fact. The fact is, Caitlin seems like someone who isn't performative in any way– on and off the court. People will say whatever they want on social media, make assumptions on the kind of person she is, ask her to change her attitude and body language, but she's just not that kind of person. She seems like she would never bend her back to satisfy people. She's does not seem like a people pleaser. She's sometimes selfish on the ball, she'll stand toe to toe with her coaches, punch a chair etc etc. And no matter how many times people will call her out for it, she just does not give a shit. She WILL punch that chair.

We'll probably never see her call out her trolls on social media or during post-game pressers. Even when that fan was crossing the line during the game and allowed to walk back to his seat with barely a warning, she said nothing– not during the presser and not on social media. She said she wants to keep her head down and hoop and that's all she's going to do.

However, we seen that it doesn't mean she doesn't actively try to fix issues she can control. For example, when they made that doc-series following her final year at Iowa, she proposed that they invite Kamilla and Kiki to feature alongside her, even though it was originally just going to be about her. And as a result of the success of the documentary-series, I heard they're looking to do a feature on a new set of college players the following season!

Around the time when the Sheryl Swoopes incident happened, and there were all these outrageous allegations that Swoopes "hated" her, she went on SNL to praise her (along with her other basketball idols) as part of her segment when the focus was on her being the #1 pick. People said "well it's scripted" no shit. It's snl, not a good morning america interview. The point is, she could've made it all about her, all about this big moment in her career but she choose to shine the spotlight on the players that came before her.

When there were all this talk about CC not being a good teammate during the first few weeks of the season, Aliyah mentioned during a presser that CC was a good supportive teammate in the locker room– where it actually matters. Caitlin didn't like a post or send a tweet for the sake of showing it on social media to prove a point.

Then we found out the other day that Caitlin tried to implement a spot bonus for benefit of all the players in the league. For context: a spot bonus is a one-time monetary incentive that's given to employees as a result of extraordinary performance; which, in this case, would be the staggering attendance metrics at the games Indiana played — despite the attendance being mostly due to her (fever has the most games with the highest attendance record x). She said ALL OF US WILL BE GETTING FED ON MY WATCH.

Caitlin has stated multiple times that she doesn't seek validation from others outside of her circle, and that's something that I think resinated with me because back then I wanted to blindly follow whatever the big accounts in this community were saying. Don't be a sheep, folks.

also, she's a really good basketball player and im gonna celebrate that :)

[chronicsyd]

Actually, I’ve got a few redactions + Add on's about the long ass post on the S2 trailer I made a couple weeks ago.

So while I still think Vi painted the gauntlets black to disguise herself, I’m thinking the fight with Warwick damages them again because when Vi’s with Ekko here, they are different than how they first appeared. So Ekko and Heimerdinger could repair them before fighting Ambessa, also it would partially explain why he's here fighting with her at all (so to the anon that asked, yes i do agree that Ekko/Heimerdinger probably fixed them)

I’ve been seeing posts about Jinx kinda sorta “adopting” a kid in the new season (you can kinda see them in that clip with Smeech attacking Sevika) and there’s the scene with Undercity people surrounding Jinx having blue hair so my thoughts are now leaning more towards that this is that child in question than something having to do with Jinx or Powder herself. it would also explain Sevika's new look and such.

I'm SUCH an idiot but the gem imbedded in Viktor's wrist is most likely for the arm they showed back in S1, much like how they showed the gauntlets that Vi would eventually be using. I just didn't give the arm a second thought until now despite knowing The Machine Herald already had the third arm (insert face palm here...)

Back to the lines from Vi and Caitlyn from the announcement teaser 3 years ago, it's clear that they're talking about the temple fight that happens later on. Caitlyn has to see this through but she doesn't want to do it alone because she knows that she or Jinx is going to end up dead as a result; but Vi feels she needs to fight Jinx herself because we're probably going to see a bunch of stuff happen before the fight (like the Kiramman tent fight for example) because Vi says "no one else needs to get hurt", but at first I just thought that Vi was talking about Jinx's attack on the Council.

I'm still unsure who's in the orange that Ambessa's talking to because no ones signature color in Arcane has been orange as far as i know (it's been mainly reds, blues, whites, and golds) so I'm thinking that it's a hospital outfit of some sort (I could be wrong, but that's where my thoughts are towards) and she's talking to someone in Piltover that Can implement Martial Law and there's really only 3 examples that could do that: Caitlyn, Jayce, or Mel (if Mel happens to be alive of course. and I'm pretty sure the other Councilor's are about as dead as dogshit, or should be because besides Cassandra did you Really give a fuck about the rest of them?).

someone else pointed this out and I for the Life of me can't find their account but the lines on the floor point to this being Stillwater Hold, so at some point that's where Jinx's base of operations is, or she's just breaking them out but at least in this scene i don't think so.

I'm changing my stance on this, this is happening right before Act 3 (or more specifically, before we see her in the Ambessa fight). mainly because while the lighting is damn near impossible to make out, i think her hair is cut in this scene, she's also missing the ropes on her top. Mainly because when we see her with the finger prosthetic she still has her braids and that's Definitely happening post Act 1. so she's crying about something different from Silco here and I'm having a dreading idea on what it is...

I don't think Vi is carrying Cait on her shoulders, mainly because with the lighting the vest looks brown but when we see Caitlyn her vest is very clearly black. So not exactly sure who it is, I'm kinda thinking it's the blue fish guy (is Arcane gonna give us the names of Caitlyn's comrades yet?!) and the explosion we see with him isn't the same one that knocked Vi down. but that's just hypothetical, the only thing I'm Sure about is that Vi isn't carrying Caitlyn at least.

I have NO idea Why and I have NO credible sources on this but for some reason my brain keeps telling Sevika's dying. No i don't know the how or the when but it'd just be another tally of grief for Jinx (because we're probably going to see them get close despite their animosity back in S1) (and let's be real anyone that takes on even a Slight "parenting" role to Vi or Jinx is getting the axe, i don't make the rules)

So far the only thing I'm having trouble placing is uhhh everyone that Isn't Vi, Jinx or Caitlyn. because they've been Massively marketing the three of them but when it comes to people like Viktor and Jayce not a fucking clue. We got that clip of Ekko and Heimerdinger sneaking into Piltover where they probably do some sorta hextech experimenting but that's really the limit of my knowledge. I know the people I was confused about have to do with Viktor and the Glorious Evolution thing but other than that, I've really only got solid thoughts on our three ladies for the season.

Also it seems like tomorrow they're probably going to be showing us what they showed at the Annecy festival for pit fighter Vi back in June so... can't wait for that!

and that's what i got for now...

[kissesandarsenic]

Another OOC post...

TLDR; Don't ask me to brainwash you, or get pushy by trying to engage in extended fantasies of me owning you- I'm going to assume you're this stalking piece of trash and block you.

So over the course of a week, I have been being harrassed by someone via asks. They've made multiple accounts and pretended to be different people with slightly different character variations, but a consistent writing pattern that I can normally pin quickly. Under these guises they will beg for tasks/for me to brainwash them, push my boundaries and try to form a relationship with me by playing into a role they think I want.

I told them to stop once publically as pictured below.

They've continued since then my sending various messages like this. I've blocked over fifteen accounts in the process.

You get the idea.

Due to the paranoia, I've become more standoffish with subs who might have just made innocent mistakes by asking for things like being brainwashed, which I don't do. Or asking to be my slave, or something along those lines.

I'm okay with people becoming familiar with me over time. I'm more likely to do this if you're off anon, so I can have a conversation with you about expectations. There's also particular emoji anons that I'm more comfortable with as I know they respect me.

With them, I'm totally fine with them acting creepy/adoring, it's just a fun little RP, one I enjoy immensely because it's CONSENSUAL AND HOT. If you'd like to play into my little stalker fantasy without annoying me, send me an ask and we'll chat about it privately if I'm interested.

But this isn't consensual! I'm fucking uncomfortable, so I have to implement something, so here we are:

Do not ask me to brainwash you. If a task requester is into hypnosis I might accompany it with an audio file but that is IT.

Do not ask to become my slave.

Do not get pushy and try to start this weird public RP without DISCUSSING IT with me first. I need to know limits and what the fuck is going on before I just launch into an extended scene.

Honestly, do not behave in anyway that is reminiscent of the messages above.

If you do /any/ of the above you will be blocked from now on. I want this to be fun and it's not fun being treated like a fucking kink dispenser having my boundaries ignored. I will be putting this in my pinned post, if you don't read it and end up blocked, tough shit.

To everyone else sending me asks, you're lovely. Thank you for being respectful, I hope you're enjoying yourselves.

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 9: Ancient Implements

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, banter, medical scans/lingo, reference to injuries, exhausted Reader, descriptions of violence, anxious/concerned Obi :(

Summary: Following a rainy conversation, Obi-Wan accompanies you to the Jedi Infirmary in hopes of finding some answers about your condition from Healer Rig Nema. Consequentially, in the face of new discoveries and futile coping mechanisms, the Master Jedi is driven to finally intervene. Through an unconventional strategy, nonetheless.

Song Inspo: Broad-Shouldered Beasts — Mumford & Sons

Words: 9.4k

A/n: Hope everyone celebrating enjoyed New Year’s! Some references to events/thoughts in Star Wars: Wild Space here. No context needed, just some short moments not covered in the Prequels/TCW. So, this chapter very much sets us up for the absolute DOOZY that is the next one, so best to buckle up LOL. My bad about the delay in this one. I had to teach myself brain chemistry 🤪 (sorry to any med students reading in advance). Made up for it in length 💀

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The earth laughs in flowers — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Obi-Wan reclined, allowing his back to press against the inner glass of one of the Infirmary’s privacy dividers as he folded his arms snugly across his chest.

Internally, the Master Jedi was hoping to disguise the slight unease that crawled up and down his spine for deep concentration, furrowing his brows as if he’d entered a profound state of thought or meditation.

But no matter how carefully he postured impressions of levelheadedness in the face of your paled features, Obi-Wan couldn’t ignore the low thrum of concern that occasionally tugged on his sternum. He couldn’t help but feel the air around him thicken from newly discovering a weeks-long affliction impacting The Guardian.

Impacting you.

A being, that if ever unwell, could place a critical prophecy in jeopardy.

A being, on account of those responsibilities, he promised to protect.

It was to the point where his steadily swelling desire for some answers had languished passing minutes into what seemed like hours. All while he waited across from you for your examination to be completed.

However, once Kenobi glanced at the chronometer’s green glow on the opposite side of the observation room, he soon realized the actuality of how much time had elapsed. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it’d only been twenty minutes since he escorted you to the Infirmary. Twenty minutes since you were both welcomed with open arms by one of the Temple’s prime physicians, Master Rig Nema, at the facility’s main entrance.

As a Healer known not to waste time, she immediately submitted an inquiry into why you were visiting. But it wasn’t until Master Nema took in your slightly sluggish form, that the doctor was quick to usher you both into a private cubicle, barely enabling the bearded Jedi to finish his symptomologicol report as he was whisked away alongside you.

Clearly, the presence of painful headaches pervading for weeks on end had stoked the Master Healer’s intrigue just as equally as it steamed Obi-Wan’s smoldering wariness. A fascination so zealous, that she pointed to and instructed the infirmary’s only two available medical droids to carry out a number of cranial scans as you all walked down the hall. Their wheeling bodies materializing by your side once the three of you entered one of the far observation rooms. Whirling and weaving to gather that first set of images before you even had the chance to sit down.

Master Kenobi couldn’t argue with the efficiency with which Master Nema accomplished her work. Nearly all of the ordered scans had been completed in a relatively short time.

But the urgency with which the doctor questioned you, while a whirlwind of droids circled your head like a pack of strike-Vultures, still had the repercussion of stoking Kenobi’s apprehension to the point of slowing down time itself. The longer Master Nema professionally fired query after query while dissonantly beeping droids traveled to and fro, the more Obi-Wan’s mind drifted to the idea that something really was wrong. And his anticipation of that theory swelled enough to knock each minute beyond his reach. As if shore waves towed sequential seconds farther out to sea.

Of course, as a broader consequence, Master Kenobi could already feel the delicate kindling of a faraway guilt emerge in his gut. Especially once he considered his delay in approaching you.

Had he spoken to you sooner, would the doctor have found her concerns to be less pressing? Would the results you were both still awaiting have proven to be more favorable?

But these thoughts only had the effect of stimulating a dull ache throughout Kenobi’s already tensed back, tightening around his spine like sentient vines as your short conversation with Master Nema reached its end.

Even as the Healer excused herself, his constant mix of disquiet and curiosity about your condition drove his eyes to follow the doctor, all the way up until her marbled head crest disappeared around the corner framing the narrowed doorway. As if her vanishing figure held the answers he sought.

Still, your mysterious affliction was not the only item that’d stoked an air of unease in the resting Jedi. Returning to the inside of the Infirmary’s borders had yanked back memories of his last dalliance with its muted decor and antiseptic aroma. The wounds he’d earned from the Battle of Geonosis were tended to by a similar set of droids in the chamber parallel to this one. A sliver of glass scarcely separated him from recollections of bruised ribs, broken bones, and an exceptionally disorienting concussion.

And, transparently, with reminders of discomfort came booming echoes of the harrowing days that bookended that medically invasive afternoon.

Memories he didn’t want to explore again.

Admittedly, in addition to masking this compounding unease, Master Kenobi had other motivations for his steadily declining posture, amplified as he leaned further back into the sturdy, sleek dividers that bordered you both. It happened to also be the only way Master Kenobi could offer you any semblance of space in such a cramped compartment. One that was so obviously designed for a single patient and no visitors.

You were tiredly perched on the infirmary bed’s side, legs dangling loosely. All while the last stubby medical droid completed a few final, even waves around your head with its hand’s built-in scanner. Yet, despite being planted in the opposite corner from the Master Jedi, the two of you still stood mere feet away from each other. A fact that was further highlighted by that same, pesky droid bumbling into Obi-Wan’s resting elbow for the fourth time as it maneuvered between you and the short wall of green luminescent data screens installed to his right.

Indisputably, it would’ve been easier to vacate these tight quarters to solve such a matter.

But Obi-Wan decided against it. He was still reticent to leave you completely alone.

Both of you knew Master Nema would be returning soon. The Healer had assured you that she’d only be gone down the hall for a few minutes to scan your results from the datapad in her private office. Yet, despite this mutual understanding, Obi-Wan immediately clocked from your shifting eyes toward the empty doorway that her brief withdrawal had fueled second thoughts about your decision to come here. This, in combination with the subtly doubting expression that stuck to your face the whole journey here, had easily convinced the Jedi Master that stepping out would’ve electrified that arch as a beacon of escape, driving you to follow those faintly perceptible impulses.

So, hence this observation, Master Kenobi decided it best to instead act as a tenuous deterrent, marking his territory between you and that sweet exit with an additional cross of his legs as he settled further into the glass wall.

The quiet beeps of scanning droids and ding of pinging monitors faded into a duller tone as Obi-Wan released his mind to wander through the events that led up to this point. It was true, that the Master Jedi had long been pondering what exactly was plaguing you in the time since you’d arrived at the Temple.

The bearded man was quite observant, first catching signs of sleeplessness during those few days on the shuttle back. And in those instances, the occasional flicker of despondency that cursorily contorted your features at the mention of his former Master’s name.

But those rare moments had never succeeded in dulling that reassuring spirit and attuned presence he’d become so accustomed to these past few weeks. It’d never challenged the composed strength that saturated your being so absolutely that it leaked from every inch of exposed skin like water from a wringing towel.

At least, not until the last week or so.

It was around then, Obi-Wan soon realized, that something had changed. And while he didn’t quite understand what exactly was occurring, he did know that some undisclosed element was uniformly snatching away threads of light from those two bright, silver eyes of yours. A physical feature that he’d recently registered as having one unintended effect:

They refreshed his senses from a mere glance alone.

Master Kenobi couldn’t deny to himself that after only a month or so of war, he’d become exhausted by not only the newly amplified duties placed upon him, but also by their militaristic, warlike nature. Missions of peace and humanitarianism had quickly devolved into defending free territories from heavily encroaching enemy lines.

The Council meetings that followed only stoked more of the same. Strategizing troop movements, assigning interplanetary campaigns, addressing casualties…

Had Obi-Wan had the ability to expose his former Padawan self to this future, he knew that young Kenobi would’ve never believed that the Jedi could ever be so entrenched in the politics and military responsibilities of a conflict at this scale.

But when he caught a flash of silver reflection from down a hall? At the corner of the refractory closest to his quarters? Near the edge of his vision in the Temple Gardens?

That weight suddenly felt just a little bit lighter.

The General wasn’t entirely sure why he became so overwhelmed with this sensation just at the mere sight of you. A sudden ease, a calmness that permeated his being in a way he’d never been able to summon on the battlefield.

Though he did have a few guesses.

You had always carried an air of serene confidence, of compassionate power, that struck at Obi-Wan’s core. Yes, these were all attributes expected of a Jedi. But your being didn’t simply carry these characteristics, Kenobi maintained. It was as if you had the artistry to will these qualities into existence from deep within your being. Like the vivid, lapping flames that encompass the entire mass of any radiant star.

And, to him, you wielded such strengths with absolute grace.

It was one such instance that Obi-Wan was still trying to wrap his head around. During your first duel with Anakin, the inclusion of one, brief conversation about his emotionally-charged behavior seemed to have knocked more sense into his impatient former Padawan than Kenobi had ever personally precipitated.

When he later inquired about the dialogue, The General readily respected your decision to keep the specifics of the exchange private. But it was when you relayed to him the vague takeaway of the power of compassion that Obi-Wan realized the reality of your statement.

That had he been in your same boots, applying that same dogma, Master Kenobi still wouldn’t have had much success.

The blue-eyed Jedi had always tried to be considerate with his former Padawan. He was hard on him at times, sure. And the two of them certainly had their many rows. But in the end, Obi-Wan always aimed to keep Anakin’s past in perspective.

He’d tried to protect him by teaching him of the importance of letting attachments go. Dispelling his fiery emotions, his ruffled history, and the people that were now a part of his past.

He tried to be a friend to him. A gentle reminder here. A reference to the Code’s importance in the life of any Jedi there. Yet still, the results were never so transformative.

And it was hard for the Master Jedi not to blame himself for that.

Though that load was slightly lifted by the hope your presence imbued.

Truly, Kenobi was thankful that one of Qui-Gon’s previous Padawans had emerged to partially aid him in fulfilling that deathbed promise he’d made to his former Master so long ago. Even if it was during a time following Anakin’s Knighthood.

Training the boy encompassed not only combat, but also the mastery of softer elements pertaining to becoming a wise Jedi capable of realizing The Chosen One prophecy. It was those latter skills that Obi-Wan never found complete success in communicating as Master to Padawan, having himself become an instructor the very same day he’d completed the Knighthood trials.

Yet, it seemed that addressing those weaknesses in his teachings came to you with relative ease. Something that made him wonder how things may have differed on the day of Geonosis had he discovered your existence earlier.

It was his inability to properly drill the importance of patience in the young boy that later led to the loss of his arm. Obi-Wan was convinced deep down, despite Anakin’s self-punishments, that in the end, it was his own fault. Kenobi’s fault for not equaling your effectiveness in addressing these matters.

Kenobi’s fault for the loss of Anakin’s arm.

Had he found you sooner, could it have all been avoided? Would you have made a connection with little Ani and trained him out of that nearly fatal mistake before he made it?

And what of the days that followed? When Anakin was recovering from that calamitous wound in this very Infirmary.

Obi-Wan vividly recalled the striking images from when he first visited his former Padawan after the battle’s devastation. He could never forget the complete agony that radiated off Anakin’s gnarled face as he stirred from a nightmare. He could never shut out from his mind those words that chestnut-haired Jedi screamed at him, red-veined eyes pulsing as he let slip his mother’s passing.

“And it’s all your fault!”

His heart clenched at the memory.

He didn’t know the details of her death, but he understood vaguely the visions which plagued Anakin in the leading days. Specters that he didn’t realize pointed to a surmounting danger.

And Anakin blamed him for it.

Would you have figured it out faster than him?

If so, then maybe, things could’ve been different.

The possibilities dashed by the delay in rescuing you from that desolate ice planet only lengthened the Jedi Master’s perceptible regret. Possibilities that would’ve become attainable through some mastery of connecting with Anakin’s being. Some familiarity so remarkable that it must’ve been willed by the prophetic elements of the Force itself long ago, Obi-Wan convinced himself.

A conclusion that left him to wonder why you were having an oddly similar effect on him.

Perhaps it was due to your separation from the war. Your lack of experience on a real battlefield freed your being from the weights chained to every Jedi who’d experienced its turmoil. Because even when news of ongoing skirmishes trickled in through visiting clones— tempering moods and gradually effervescing the bubbling anxieties among him, Anakin, and Ahsoka— you still appeared to ignite the surrounding air with sparks of anti-gravity the moment you entered the room.

When any one of them expressed concerns about the front, your soothing smile, teasing jabs, and intelligent reassurances had soon acclimatized the bearded Jedi to associate those hopeful eyes with your comforting existence, and the relaxation it imbued in him.

It was probably also why now, much like the last week in a half, Obi-Wan felt particularly disconcerted.

Without fail, he would be the first to catch on to those subtle dips in your lips in the refractory. The uncomfortable quirk of your brow in the Archives. Sometimes, even, an unexpected twitch of the nose while strolling down a Temple walkway. Always to be followed by a quiet farewell and your quick yet controlled retreat, leaving him without the opportunity to inquire about your condition without necessitating chase.

So it goes without saying that the Master Jedi was particularly relieved when Anakin approached him. Of course, not by the story of your incident in the Starfighter. But by the fact that he finally had a valid excuse to seek you out and investigate this ongoing issue. A trouble that he’d originally surmised as related to Qui-Gon before he was proven to be severely wrong.

Your reality was quite more bothersome.

Honestly, had you not been a force-sensitive being, Obi-Wan would’ve been less concerned. Headaches can be quite normal for the average individual.

But for a Jedi?

It had far more serious possibilities.

Pain in the mind could’ve pointed to an imbalance in the Force. And considering your true identity, and Qui-Gon and the Council’s reasons for hiding it, Kenobi had reason to take note.

Still though, you‘d been through a lot these past few weeks. The death of a Master. Leaving a home you’d known all your life only to be thrust into a far busier and more complicated environment. Finally facing down a dangerous legacy with galactic implications. It was an existence far more demanding than was expected of the average Jedi. Perhaps these migraines were simply a reflection of that fact, he considered.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan wanted to make sure. He was no specialist in the medicinal aspects of the Force nor in how its energies physically manifested. And that meant the only other option was to consult someone with more expertise. Someone he equivocally trusted to make the right determination.

Qui-Gon was right. Kenobi did think about the future a little bit too much.

“Obi-Wan, if you keep staring at me like I’m about to drop dead, I’m gonna kick you out.”

Master Kenobi’s vision instantly refocused, lips parting slightly as he realized his gaze had accidentally wandered and stuck to your subtly dulled, silver orbs.

Immediately, he used his back to push off the screen, summoning a hand to check his beard’s placement in hopes of hiding the chilly embarrassment that ever so slightly crimsoned his cheeks. No matter, he doubled down, approaching you in a few steps with broad shoulders declaring self-assurance.

“You’re not getting rid of me quite that easily,” he casually quipped, dropping his arm loosely to the side once certain that brief flush drained from his ears.

At the same time, the pine-green medical droid stationed before you embraced this sudden split in the previously long-held silence as his cue. The machine wheeled around Obi-Wan, this time rudely knocking into the back of his leg in its scurry toward the screens spread out on the far wall. All the while releasing a flurry of affirmative beeps to signal the examination’s completion.

Of course, Obi-Wan’s eyes were careful not to reflect his mild agitation at the droid’s lack of spatial awareness while his gaze followed it.

Continuing to observe the green machine, Kenobi spoke, paying careful attention to its arm’s mechanical tendrils that extended into the wall’s receiver.

“I was taking the time to consider your situation.”

“What situation?” You emphasized rhetorically.

Obi-Wan’s features sobered in an effort to remind you of the potential gravity of your symptoms.

But you brushed aside his hardened brows, instead bouncing your gaze toward the uncoordinated droid as it finished retracting its arm from the console. Your vision remained locked, following its triangular head while the machine spun toward the room’s doorway, clipping the frame with an unfortunate clunk and shocked beep before reorienting itself to swerve down the parallel hall.

Even then, you extended the interval, allowing its buzzing gears and occasional clicks to grow more distant before continuing with a lowered voice.

“I went from living my life on an ice planet to now spending weeks in a much warmer climate. I’m probably not used to this environment yet. That’s all.”

The unconvinced man spied your eyes soften.

“I’d rather not be wasting medical resources for something that’s probably nothing. Especially in the middle of a war.”

Master Kenobi’s mouth twitched into a frown. “It’s not a waste if it provides the answers you’re looking for.”

“I’d agree if I believed the answers were medical,” you argued.

“This is a Jedi Infirmary,” he spotlighted. “Master Nema will be considering all phenomena that may affect a force-sensitive. Even an imbalance.”

Your brows fluttered inquisitively at this. “Is that what you think is happening? Some sort of imbalance?”

He hummed, hand reaching for his chin as his eyes drifted in thought. “I’m not quite sure. The mind of a Jedi is a complicated thing. The way in which it realizes our connection to the Force is often unpredictable. But headaches resulting from an imbalance are not unheard of,” he exhaled. “Although, I don’t feel anything strange in the space in or around you.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head, stretching out to the swirling energies around you both to confirm his observations from the last few weeks before meeting a familiar wall in the connecting strands.

“But I must admit, I do have trouble sensing your mind within the Force. So, I may be wrong.”

The nearly imperceptible sigh that escaped your nostrils drew his searching orbs back toward your lowered gaze in an instant.

“However,” he readily subsisted. “These are no ordinary scans. If these headaches are related to an imbalance, Master Nema would be the first Healer I trust to make that determination.”

But the one-sided stillness continued. The General spied your eyelids fold shut while you breathed deeply into the emptiness, kindling your despondency in such a way that it intensified Kenobi’s own discomfort. Mostly because he was growing more and more convinced that his reassurances were clearly making things worse.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear—“

“That’s ok, Obi-Wan,” you smiled at him tiredly, legs stretching as your gaze drifted toward your knees. “I heard something similar from Master Windu. If these scans don’t reveal anything, I’ll just return to those meditation sessions he suggested. They’ll have to reveal something eventually, medical or otherwise.”

Once again, Obi-Wan crossed his arms, a silent protest to the security you placed in that impractical solution. Assuming he’d properly understood your version of events from that earlier, rainy conversation, meditation had only made your migraines more unbearable.

A notion that certainly disturbed the seasoned Jedi.

Throughout his life, Master Kenobi took great comfort in connecting with the everlasting serenity that was the Force. Even as a youngling, when his imagination wandered less and less into daydreaming realms, he’d cherished these moments of silent outreach as a way to center his mind and hone his presence in the Galaxy.

But for you, in the last few days, it had only caused you pain. For you, these headaches actualized a blockade, sequestering your being from one of the most sacred acts known to any Jedi. Isolating you from peace.

And he refused to allow that to continue

Obi-Wan was dragged from his thoughts as your straightened legs limply fell back against the bedside, drawing his blue eyes toward spots of perspiration on your now stretching neck and sinking eyelids.

Seeing you like this, pushing yourself to the physical brink as a last-ditch attempt to tame these incidents, heaved upon him a draining atmosphere similar to those that weighed him down more heavily in these months of war.

Sensations he was still trying to put a name to.

But Obi-Wan didn’t need a title to know that his being was firm in at least one judgment— he didn’t want this affliction to torment you any longer.

Those words…

Name. Title.

It drudged up an abrupt thought in the ruminating Jedi. It was something you’d said. Or more, he soon realized, something Mace Windu had instructed you to do.

“Remind me,” he began with a punch, drawing your sparkling eyes toward his as he unstitched his shoulders. “Master Windu advised you to give a name to these incidents, yes?”

You nodded, eyes wandering toward the doorway as Obi-Wan continued steadfastly in his speech

“Silvey,” he called softly, drawing your attention back to him.

“What was the name—?”

“I’ve had a chance to review your scans, Silvey.”

Master Nema spoke resonantly as she materialized, carrying a polished bearing while pivoting through the open-aired doorway and toward your seated figure. Her cerulean-tinted eyelids and lips stood in stark contrast against lime-green shoulders, a distinction emphasized by bowed eyes that held affixed to the blue glow of the datapad in her dominant hand.

Regardless of the thickly sliced air, the Healer continued to evenly scroll through the device, having unknowingly cut off the previous exchange before you’d even had the chance to absorb Kenobi’s inquiry.

“And I don’t see anything of note. Just some heightened activity here.”

Obi-Wan watched as the gray-robbed Halaisi finally raised her gaze, extending the datapad toward your now curious form.

Taking the device, you scanned it quickly, eyes squinting while you mulled over some image stamped at the screen’s center beyond Kenobi’s view. Though you only mulled over the datapad for a few seconds before glancing up at the Healer candidly, a somewhat sheepish expression attempting to push through your unbending forehead.

“I’m not very familiar with the anatomy of the brain,” you admitted.

Shimming to your side without bumping into the bedside, Master Nema pointed a long, viridescent finger at the datapad. “This brighter, center portion here consists of your amygdala and hippocampus. They are responsible for several functions related to memories and emotional processing.”

She glanced at you.

“May I ask you to describe the weeks leading up to these migraines? Primarily, I’d like to know which locations you’ve visited and the activities you were engaged in.”

Obi-Wan sighed internally, biting his tongue. Even before Master Nema had finished her inquiry, the bearded Jedi was swift to realize a new issue— that your inevitable yet necessary response may undermine the accuracy of the Healer’s determinations.

And for an instant, Kenobi nearly imagined that you’d read his mind.

Not a second later, you subtly glimpsed at The General’s now very watchful stare, only to confirm with determined eyes that you knew what you needed to do.

And that he had no chance of changing your mind.

Because Master Yoda and Master Windu advised that such truths must remain hidden. As revealing your real identity could amplify the very real threat to your life. So, without their permission, your predetermined fabrication needed to become the truth to Master Nema as well.

“I’ve recently returned from a years-long mission for the Council,” you dispassionately parroted. “However, I’m unable to discuss it in detail.”

Master Nema nodded unflinchingly, having become long accustomed to the importance of discretion in most Jedi matters.

“I understand,” she relayed, retrieving the datapad from your outstretched hand. “Can you share if you’ve had any occurrences similar to these during your assignment?”

Unblinkingly, you confidently answered.

“I did not.”

“Good,” she expressed, satisfied. “Further details will not be needed.”

Lowering her arm to rest the datapad by her side, the doctor angled herself more fully toward both you and Obi-Wan as she delivered her diagnosis.

“From these symptoms and affected regions, and with no other indications of illness on your scans, I understand that you are experiencing a side effect of prolonged stress.”

Obi-Wan covertly peered at your reaction, curiously taking in the unexpected neutrality that characterized your countenance.

“Stress?” You repeated, asking for confirmation.

“Yes,” Master Nema established, unbothered by your unconvinced manner as she turned away and strolled toward the gentle green glow of busily flashing screens plastered by Obi-Wan’s side.

“It’s quite common,” she maintained, her exposed upper back greeting you both as the displays’ ceaseless stream of looping data commandeered her sight.

“But I must admit,” she noted. “I’ve only seen these cases more recently, since the war began.”

Cunningly rearranging several charts of what Kenobi saw as an assortment of disparate numbers and calculations, the Jedi Healer soon centered on a corner window before beginning the long trial of analyses inputs, gathered from the occasional glance toward her purposefully angled datapad as she expounded.

“The Jedi are involved in prolonged duties of war that they were never meant for. And without time for meditation, it has caused many to internalize these experiences. This is why the symptoms of these strains usually begin after returning to the Temple. When their bodies are given a chance to rest and connect with the Force, the effects of prolonged stress are then allowed space to materialize.”

“Materialize as headaches?” Obi-Wan questioned from his once quiet perch.

Master Nema broke away from the left screen mid-data entry, angling to face the bearded Jedi with golden-rimmed eyes and a forthright manner.

“This is the first time I’ve heard of headaches as a symptom,” she admitted. “But from the general history described, the causes appear to be the same. Also, the hippocampus and amygdala are known to respond to stress-inducing environments. And headaches are not a far stretch from the primary indicators. Lack of focus, exhaustion…”

Master Nema stretched to eye your figure thoughtfully.

“I believe you’re showing the latter.”

At that remark, Kenobi immediately noticed a chink in your impartiality as a flake of disappointment slipped past the corners of gently pursed lips.

His forehead crinkled at the trickle of confusion dripping down his hairline. Obi-Wan thought you’d be relieved to hear that this affliction was not as dire as it had the potential to be.

It appeared that the Jedi Healer must’ve noticed the same shift in expression as she offered you a diplomatic smile. Those that are often reserved by doctors for their more unfamiliar patients.

“Rest, Silvey. Meditate. Do something to take your mind off of the stresses of your mission. It’s over now.”

And, in response, you offered a simple nod.

“Thank you, Master,” you relayed sincerely, offering a flash of amicability. “I’ll try to do that.”

You pushed off the medical bed with sudden haste, toes landing on the floor gingerly as your legs briskly steered through and out the doorway. The skilled maneuverings easily drew Obi-Wan’s attention, compelling him to detect a precise shift in your most noticeable features as you passed by.

How your eyes submerged into a subtle, gray glaze, and how your jaw inappreciably tightened.

It was enough to provoke him to launch a pursuit of his own, hoping to make up for the past few weeks of mistakes in not doing exactly this. All with the intent to close the distance with your quickly departing being after exchanging a parting nod with Master Nema.

“Silvey,” he projected, pacing toward your weaving form beyond the last few cubicles that pointed to the Infirmary’s exit like an arrow.

He caught your gate slacken as you entered the connecting Temple walkway, casually pivoting toward his quick steps while you waited for him to catch up. Still, you didn’t give Kenobi a chance to finish his approach before beginning to speak unapologetically, offering a straight face and a hand on each hip as you made a particularly bold statement

“It’s not stress.”

Had he not been present in the observation room, Master Kenobi would’ve unequivocally believed your statement right then and there. From three, fearless words alone. Spoken with such sheer simplicity that it was as if you were reminding him that Coruscant’s sky was, in fact, blue.

Still, disregarding the momentary speculation your confidence imbued, Obi-Wan held onto the reality of your situation. Or, more accurately, the relative soundness of Master Nema’s diagnosis while his pace effortlessly eased by your side.

“You don’t know that,” he contested as you pivoted, carrying on your trek down the pillared and lilac-carpeted walkway while his legs seamlessly moved in sync with yours. “The history you provided may not be accurate, but that doesn’t mean stress isn’t the source. Master Nema said the scans support her diagnosis.”

“It’s not stress,” you reflexively repeated, the same, unshakable conviction as pulsing as before that locked Kenobi’s gaze onto you while you continued.

“Stress is natural. It’s our being’s way of telling us something. Reminding us to take a break. To take time for ourselves. But whatever this is,” you gesticulated into the air, hand twirling as if it was conjuring the very affliction from the surrounding pillars’ essence. “It isn’t natural. It’s different. Deep inside me, but not. Disconnected—“

From a lightning flash of sliver, Obi-Wan was temporarily taken aback as he was forced to absorb your stilled yet rich perseverance. Bleeding through eyes that whipped over to challenge his stare, drawing you both to a sudden halt.

While emphasizing each consonant, you calmly declared once more your obstinate verdict.

“It is not stress.”

For a few seconds, the Master Jedi searched your face, keeping an eye out for any inkling of a quiver in your fortitude. Any sign of withheld doubts. Any indication that there was something you weren’t comfortable sharing.

But quite immediately, The General realized that even if he’d stood there for days, all would’ve remained the same. There were no hints that you could’ve been convinced otherwise. No way for him to persuade you that stress affected the body just as mysteriously as the Force.

So, he acquiesced.

“Alright,” he acknowledged, a gentleness enveloping his tone. “For now, let’s agree that it may not be stress. You’ve been managing them with the same approaches Master Nema suggested, no?”

“I have…” you skeptically concurred. “But it’s not sustainable.”

The sound of your exhale roped Obi-Wan’s attention as you reached up to rest a palm on your eye. Your cheeks sagged in resignation, subduing your voice while you spoke.

“I guess I’ll just try to get some rest.”

Obi-Wan’s brows creased in an unpleasant recognition.

Those disjointed eyes? The carefully constructed monotonousness you’ve held since making your escape from the Infirmary?

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan was quickly becoming a master at pinpointing the signs.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He delicately inquired.

You shook your head incredulously, a small smile inching out of the corner of your mouth as you peeked at him.

“Is it that obvious?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly why he did it. Why his arms reached for your shoulders, grasping their cold frames with a pleasant squeeze. As if some foreign entity now controlled and commanded both limbs with a set of knotted strings. A mind other than his own that believed the only way you’d hear his words was through physical and visual touch alone.

For a split second, at the base of his subconscious, with eyes locked onto yours, Kenobi speculated that perhaps it was a piece of Qui-Gon left behind that commandeered his actions. You’d mentioned to Obi-Wan that your former Master believed your stubbornness to be a considerable strength, yet a ramifying weakness. Something the bearded Jedi certainly recognized as he spent more time with you in the past few weeks.

Knowing the dearly departed, your at times cloaked stubbornness on such affairs plausibly necessitated Master Quinn to rely on similar measures to finally break through.

So why not do the same?

“Let me help you. You’re not on Hoth anymore. There are beings that can assist you here,” he frustratingly exhaled. “You told me yourself that rest has done nothing. I can provide a suitable distraction, if you’d allow me.”

Kenobi’s careful gaze caught the minute disorientation that blinked from reactive brows. You clasped your hands and, for the first time since he’d known you, an air of timidness encircled your ears.

“I appreciate the offer,” you began conscientiously, displaying a thankful smile “But that wouldn’t be fair to you. I know that there are probably a number of Council tasks you’ve sacrificed to check on me, which I appreciate. But I shouldn’t keep you away from those responsibilities any longer.”

“You and I both know that the Council’s activities have laxed since the incident with the communications system,” he securely reminded you as the bud of a perfect excuse blossomed into the puff of levity that captured his voice.

“Besides, this would be more of an exchange than a sacrifice.”

“Oh?” You uttered.

Your demure smile stretched into an infectious smirk, which only amplified Obi-Wan’s gaiety through brightened cheeks.

“You seem to have forgotten your promise,” he bantered.

Your head tilted.

“My promise?”

“The Muntuur?”

The bottom half of your face instantly transformed into a broad grin.

“Ah, yes,” you exaggerated teasingly. “How could I’ve forgotten a promise as dire as that.”

“Then you agree?” He quickly inquired. “You instruct me on how to use the device, and you can be confident that I will ask enough questions to keep your mind occupied.”

“I believe you may be on the better side of this deal,” you poked.

Kenobi watched as your eyes wafted toward the far-reaching Temple ceilings in thought. And in pondering his request amidst the absurdity of this exchange, Obi-Wan was fortunate enough to just barely catch your attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Alright,” you feigned defeat, silver orbs flickering as you glanced at him.

“I agree.”

—

Kenobi drifted deeper into his settled posture, legs folded in angled balance as he extended his deliverance into the swirling energies of the Force. Straightening his back, his focused mind welcomed the omnipresent stream to encircle him in the empty training dojo, never to be hindered by its milky white walls nor wood-bordered panels.

Wherever he was, The General sensed this to be true. That the Force would always be with him.

Rationally, Obi-Wan knew that any second, you’d be strolling through those two gray sliding doors to join him, Muntuur in hand after retrieving it from your quarters per his request. Yet still, Kenobi found that even in the most cursory of moments, meditation proved to always be a feasible endeavor. Despite sometimes having only a few seconds to fully connect with his surroundings, Obi-Wan found that stretching into the constant flow would still center his mind in a manner that could last for hours. Perhaps days, if he’d found particular focus.

But he hadn’t always had the aptitude to enter those cavernous reflective states so rapidly. Especially as a Padawan, when his mind took a little bit more tugging to wrench it away from concerns of the future so to focus on the here and now. It was a realm he always had to strive toward. A speedy existence he’d been further compelled to master had he any hope of engaging in such comforts during the ceaseless activities of war.

A lifestyle he knew he’d be returning to soon.

From the final review of the Temple’s security system this morning, it was ultimately discovered that there had, in fact, been a leak in the communications system. Specifically, an exposed transceiver code. And, of course, of the many technical specialists and machines tasked with rooting out the issue, Artoo, Anakin’s prized blue-and-white droid, was the one to discover it.

Due to Count Dooku’s formerly wide access to sensitive Temple data, Master Yoda had decided to alter all related security measures so to ensure that the Separatists were not given a tactical advantage after The Battle of Geonosis. That included identifying and deactivating the extensive array of transceiver codes that Dooku was aware of.

But, unfortunately, it seemed that one was missed. A single line of digits once only privy to Council transmissions during Dooku’s short stint as a member, long before Obi-Wan’s time. An easy mistake that proved to have significant consequences, setting back the Republic’s stance by forcing the Jedi off the battlefield as clone battalions temporarily took command.

And just after they’d finally gotten one step ahead of the Separatists following the Republic victory on Christophsis, no less.

Either way, The General understood that he’d soon see the damage himself once given his first return assignment. A mission that would include you, considering Master Yoda’s decision to separate you from Anakin on the battlefield for the time being.

But there wasn’t time for such considerations any longer. No more musings about what the future held. Not in a time when he should’ve been blending his mind with the rippling stream.

A time cut short.

The whoosh of an automatic door releasing tickled his ears, followed by a cool gust of creeping air that further drew Obi-Wan out of his concentrative state. A quick wrench akin to similar interruptions by Commander Cody during those off-world campaigns in the months prior.

His eyelids peeled open at the new, subtle presence before him. And in the moments that followed, it didn’t take long for Kenobi to take note of your more upbeat figure, revitalized by the prospect of the coming distraction in the form of teaching a lesson on ancient implements, Obi-Wan hoped. A divertissement to be governed by The Muntuur whose glint caught the bearded Jedi’s eye.

“Excellent,” Master Kenobi expressed, raking his gaze over the half-circle metal headpiece that hung loosely from your fingertips while he untangled, placing a hand on his knee to help him stand. “Now tell me how it works.”

Obi-Wan spotted a quirk in your brows as you steadily approached, a token of entertainment at his eagerness, no doubt.

You hummed flippantly. “It would be easier to just show you, you know.”

And Master Kenobi wholeheartedly agreed, but that wasn’t why he was doing this. He couldn’t deny that he’d been ardently waiting since you told him about The Muntuur to put the apparatus to the test. But, right now, he had more important matters to address than his budding curiosity.

To focus your mind on easier topics. On the intricacies of a long-lost Jedi device. And on the concentration required to explain it to him.

And that meant putting some skin in the game.

“I’d much rather hear it from your own voice,” he contended, nonchalant gaze somewhat lowering to meet yours as your shorter, slightly amused figure stalled within arms reach of his chest.

And with your quick-beat response, it was clear to Obi-Wan that you’d in some measure caught on to his ruse.

“Well, how could I deny such a charmed request?”

A tickled smile crawled across Kenobi’s features at your faintly sarcastic tone. An expression that persisted fervently despite noticing a sincerity wash away your brief masquerade.

“I must warn you, Obi-Wan. What I’ve learned about this device was through significant trial and error. Not even Qui-Gon really understood it.”

Still, the Jedi Master’s encouraging regard never quivered. A long-held desire to grasp and digest your knowledge radiated from his being. Strong enough, it seemed, to persuade you to continue as you held up The Muntuur for easy viewing.

“If you have the imagination, and the specifications, you can program it to simulate virtually anything. Any drill or duel you can imagine. Any environment. Any foe. As long as you know the strengths, behaviors, and appearances involved in your desired program, then it can be created by inputting them here.”

Obi-Wan adjusted as you turned your back toward him to display the device’s rear. Specifically, the small, anciently designed input panel whose miniature screen emitted an amber gleam between your secured fingers.

He craned his neck farther over your shoulder, the fragrance of star jasmines wafting from your loose hair and into his nostrils as he strived to take a closer look.

“My holobooks often provided enough information for me to recreate their contents for training purposes,” you continued to explain. “Honestly, I’ve used The Muntuur so much that I still have a number of designations memorized. Including…”

Master Kenobi scrutinized the tiny display as your fluttering fingers tapped away, making selections and adjusting parameters so expeditiously that it was as if an invisible memory bank of numbers and terms were stored in your wrist. You readied the device so expertly, in fact, that the brief trailing off of your voice was smoothly picked up following the short, concentrative pinch.

“…this little guy.”

He watched while your thumb danced to the small, circular black button resting in the panel’s corner, pressing and holding it down until a startling beep cheered from the device. An unexpected noise that swiveled your figure back toward the Master Jedi, arm outstretched in offering as a barely hampered enthusiasm elevated your features.

However, with an undetermined inspection narrowing on the instrument, Obi-Wan suddenly felt hesitant to accept.

He often found comfort in understanding the more nuanced aspects of unknown technologies before diving right in, unlike his former Padawan. Consequently, The Master Jedi had honestly been anticipating a more detailed explanation. But from the rapid fire of input codes and language specifications that manifested from your exceptional proficiency, Obi-Wan now realized that, even with your guidance, such in-depth adroitness was sure to take weeks if not months.

Time he, unfortunately, did not have.

“Don’t worry,” you brightly assured, arm still extended with the gleaming metal headpiece. “The safety protocols are engaged. It won’t bite.”

Kenobi’s stare snapped toward yours as he cautiously took the device.

“Safety protocols?” He inquired, turning over the cold metal in his palms as he observed its ornate craftsmanship. “I’ve never heard of a simulation creating a safety issue.”

“It’s more than a simulation,” you elucidated, jutting a thumb toward his grasp. “Notice how there’s no visor?”

Obi-Wan flipped the device, realizing the accuracy of your statement as his befuddled eyes met its rather barren fore.

“It functions by triggering the electrical impulses in your neurons. Because it creates the simulation with your mind, certain programs need to be active to prevent the more subconscious parts of your brain from confusing artificial injuries with reality.”

“That is…quite fascinating…” Obi-Wan uttered, taking one last scan of the unique instrument before glancing at your intrigued features, captivated by a typhoon of ruminations on the device’s remarkable functions, he assumed.

“So I won’t feel pain?”

You shook your head heartily, emphasizing each word that followed. “No, you’ll certainly feel pain. But you won’t receive any grievous injuries.”

And the General’s spine stiffened from shock at this. Eyes wide as he searched your matter-of-fact countenance for clarification.

“Silvey, are you saying this device can cause real-world harm?”

“Only if the safety protocols are off,” you undauntedly reminded before your voice relaxed into a fonder, more reminiscent timbre.

“I learned that piece of programming the hard way,” you chuckled. “Qui-Gon almost threw the whole thing away after I nearly bled to death from a stab to the shoulder. A fairly treatable wound in the likes of Coruscant, I’m sure. But when you have no choice but to work with a few, expired bacta pads, it can become a little dicey.”

Master Kenobi’s once intrigued disposition had slowly devolved into a frown.

He knew this implement was old. Likely used by ancient Jedi who followed a widely contrasting set of rules in a lawless world of dark adversaries. But he never predicted that their training equipment would allow for such risk in the name of growth. There was a reason younglings learned on training sabers. So that they need not face the same life-threatening dangers that you seem to have faced every day at their age. Whether through an unpredictable apparatus or the nature of your icy asylum.

Obi-Wan barely noticed the thickening of a faintly simmering temper, mixed with frustration and confusion as he finally considered the reality of your upbringing. The bearded Jedi cared for his former Master deeply, and he clearly understood that Qui-Gon had done his best to protect you under severe circumstances. But the auburn-haired man couldn’t get over the sheer recklessness that characterized his decision-making as your custodian.

Had he not checked this device thoroughly before handing it off to a child? That didn’t sound like the wise man he’d known for all his life. Though Qui-Gon did have many responsibilities on top of your secret existence. Most of which likely prevented him from imparting the same thoroughness and circumspect to which he gifted Obi-Wan.

Still, it was no excuse.

And the longer he sat with that realization, the more your recollection ruffled Obi-Wan. Especially when your cavalier attitude proved your innocence to the underlying issue that Kenobi was so peeved by.

A reaction that you just seemed to notice, but failed to correctly attribute.

“Obi-Wan.”

You spoke gently, reaching out a cold, comforting hand to rest beneath his, providing a little extra lift in supporting the gadget’s portable weight. His eyes followed your arm, naturally landing on the two, strikingly silver orbs that relaxed his tensed muscles and unsettled thoughts with mollifying memories of uncomplicated talks and silent company.

“I promise you, you’re not gonna get hurt. I would never have agreed to share The Muntuur with you had I believed for a second it would cause serious harm.”

And there it was again. Those gentle, sparkling features that cozily blanketed Obi-Wan’s line of vision with honest poise. Accompanied by relieving words that freshly astounded him in every instant they fell from your lips.

Your life. Your upbringing. Devoid of connection and saturated with harsh dangers in an inhospitable habitat. Yes, a Jedi was expected to forgo all attachments, but this isolation had been to an extreme.

Yet every day. In every moment he had the chance to grace your presence. To get to know you. You’d shimmer like a being who’d known unconditional love from the galaxy, and was simply acting as a conduit to relay that benevolence onto others.

But that wasn’t your reality, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Besides Qui-Gon’s disbanded guidance, you had only known the cold.

Still, even that jarring refuge was likely more enticing than the prospect of facing a dark nemesis too soon.

You’d only known struggle, yet diffused compassion.

You really were something.

“I trust you,” Master Kenobi finally spoke, raising The Muntuur to secure its chilly, rigid form atop his head.

While his hands lowered, Obi-Wan felt a slight dig as the device morphed to fit his skull’s dimensions. A low, mechanical purr was followed by strange tingling sensations that danced across his temples like docile Endorian ants.

But after a few, stagnant seconds, in which a stillness recouped the air, nothing else occurred.

The Jedi Master knew that you’d intended for some program to run, yet he saw nothing. Just the dojo’s durable, cream-tinted walls supported by pillars of hickory brown wood.

“How do I know if the simulation has begun?” Obi-Wan questioned, eyes glancing toward your figure as you purposefully ambled backward to grant more clearance to the focused Jedi.

A delighted smirk tugged up at your countenance from chin to ears as you slowed to a halt about twelve meters away.

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know.”

A deep, guttural roar bellowed from behind, provoking a somewhat startled Master Kenobi to detach his lightsaber mid-whirl as he faced the blare with the blade’s instantly ignited, blue glow.

Coiled into a stalking pose at the opposite wall was the brown-gold body of a particularly irate Nexu. Its four, beady red eyes pierced Kenobi’s senses, drawing considerable attention to the broad set of dagger-like teeth that stretched across half its face as the beast soon began to circularly prowl. The inchmeal movements of its sharp claws and flicking tails quickly compelled Kenobi to step into a cautious counter, sidestep after sidestep so to avoid closing that precarious gap.

“I believe we have different definitions of what qualifies as a ‘little guy!’” Obi-Wan sarcastically called out, his readily extended saber maintaining the standoff while he kept a slow, methodical distance.

“I think he’s kinda cute!” You gushed.

Obi-Wan’s head whipped to stare at you in utter disbelief, hoping to communicate his complete disagreement with such a statement. In fact, he manifested with his eyes alone the question of whether you were truly seeing the same ghastly brute as him.

But any answer he sought would have to wait, it appeared. The momentary glance at your chuckling figure was cut short by the beast’s consciousness of Kenobi’s brief distraction.

Its paws struck the ground with a sharp crack, signaling the Nexu’s powerful charge toward Obi-Wan as the latter’s attention snapped back toward the rapidly closing-in creature. One, he now noticed, whose approach could be viscerally sensed, further persuading the Master Jedi to poise himself for the coming strike that he felt through the surrounding flow.

“I can feel its movement within the force!” He called out while dodging a quick slash of the right set of claws. “How is that possible?!”

“It’s part of the programming,” you leveled candidly while Obi-Wan sprinted for a better vantage point toward the far wall, slithering beast on his tail.

“I think that’s why Qui-Gon assumed it was built for the Jedi,” you continued. “Never could figure out how that part worked.”

Drawing on the stream around him as he reached the dead end, Kenobi leapt onto the wall, maintaining his momentum while he followed its architecture around the training room.

Still, the slobbering huffs of the Nexu stayed close behind, especially once the creature’s biting claws lodged into the same partition, empowering it to launch into a rather slippery chase while its talons fought against the smoother sectionals.

However, the agile Jedi persisted, formulating a plan as his eyes locked onto an abruptly nearing corner.

With the blustering beast just a few steps behind, Kenobi broke away toward the opposite intersecting wall. Then, with cold air resisting against his face, Obi-Wan exercised the boost to reach and thrust against this new push-off point, barreling into a flip back toward the growling beast that still struggled to skitter across this raised vantage point.

Swiftly, while the Master Jedi glided midair, Kenobi brought down his blue luminescence to slash at the Nexu’s back. It was in that instant, that he successfully severed several of its sharp quills, a pink ooze soaking the creature’s fur while it wailed out in agony.

Embracing the Force to cushion his descent, Obi-Wan partially floated to the stone floor, toes centering his landing as the beast once clawing across the dojo wall writhed into a short plummet, striking the floor with a boom just meters beyond his feet.

Kenobi watched on while the Nexu pitifully rolled to its side, emitting a flurry of pained squeaks and whimpers in its parade to expose its underside, a symbol of surrender.

But that white flag wasn’t what prompted Obi-Wan to abruptly unfasten The Muntuur from his skull and end the program, leading the now docile Nexu to fade into nothingness as the device hummed through its deactivation.

No.

Instead, the slightly panting Jedi’s attention was seized by a sudden burst of laughter from the far corner, flinging his bewildered yet slightly curious gaze toward your bent-over form leaned against the dojo’s gray doors.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just, this is the first time I’ve seen someone use The Muntuur from an outside perspective and I’m—” Another fit of giggles poured out of your gut, squeezing Obi-Wan’s brows to raise in delight at the sound.

“I’m just now wondering how Qui-Gon kept a straight face! With nothing there for me, it just looks like you’re running around in circles, and—“

Another howl of laughter colored the air, touching his chest with a strangely familiar sensation. One that he couldn’t quite clearly recall, but knew still that it had been something he’d experienced a couple times a year as a young Padawan.

On those few evenings in the fall when his training had ended early for the day, young Kenobi would run off to the Glitannai Eslpanade to experience the Festival of Stars. And while he appreciated the joy of dancing beings and the artistry of performative acrobatics, he’d only really had one motive for sneaking off with a nut brown robe tightly concealing his Jedi identity amongst the bustling crowds.

It was to gawk at the falling Ithorian rose petals, flung from the sky like euphoric tears at each year’s parade on Coruscant.

A sight he could never drag his eyes away from, no matter how hard he tried.

This wasn’t exactly what Obi-Wan had planned when he decided to focus your mind on matters separate from those stress-induced headaches. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain about finding success through other means. The undeniably beaming expression on your face meant that something he did had lessened the headache that’d emerged following your infirmary visit, at least.

Perhaps that was what gave rise to his inner appreciation for your enlivened state. Because when he heard your laughter spring throughout the room, it confirmed for him that he’d finally taken a little bit of your pain away.

And that idea alone tugged fiercely at his facial muscles, coaxing him to give rise to a smile.

But Obi-Wan shoved that down, instead adopting a rather unimpressed gaze as his voice oozed with sarcasm.

“I’m pleased you find my defensive techniques so amusing.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

[aroceu]

some thoughts on leaving a social media website...again

as of 10/16/2024, twitter has announced its intention to implement a new feature into the platform: instead of blocking allowing you to block certain accounts from viewing your profile if it's public, it now just... doesn't do that anymore. it only limits interaction. though this certainly isn't a surprise with musk's twitter rollouts since 2021—when i first saw people start to trickle out—this, in particular, breaks a lot of users boundaries and has prompted many to private their accounts and move to bluesky.

i'm in support of this, btw—the ceo of bsky is strongly opposed to ever running any sort of ads on the site ("won't enshittify the network with ads"), doesn't use any blockchain technology, and has a culture where supplying alt text on images is the norm. your main timeline is in reverse-chronological order (like intended), but there are other separate options to create a custom algorithmic feed for certain types of content, only if you wish to. though bsky is a work in progress, i have high hopes for what it can be in the future: that is, usable, practical, and more reminiscent of what it was like when twitter first started, than how twitter currently is.

but despite my love for bluesky, i won't spend too much time glazing yet another microblogging platform. instead, i'm here to ponder the concept of social media: why we have it, why we use it, and why these moves happen in the first place. people have been trickling in and out of twitter ever since the richest and evilest man in the world took possession of it; especially in a fandom sense, there's been a back and forth between twitter and tumblr due to tumblr's former porn ban, as well. we all have principles and morals that guide the decisions we make, including what websites we decide to use. they speak to a pattern of not only our culture as people at any given time—but how these platforms have the power to implement these changes whenever they want. and we, as individuals, must make decisions both based on those principles, but also our desires to fit in.

i'll start off by saying this—eventually i'm going to start talking about what social media means for creatives. but there is in fact an extremely well-written article about this already that goes into more detail. if you're more interested in that, let me direct you there first: R U AN ARTIST ON SOCIAL MEDIA??? by omoulo

with that out of the way, let's talk about me, shall we?

i got onto the internet through geocities—crazy sentence to say now after all these years. of course, i played neopets and flash games like many other kids, but that was mostly through knowing those websites and urls existed, and preserving them in my mind so i could return to them for some mindless minutes of entertainment later. geocities was my first introduction to the creative, user-designed web, so to speak. instead of being a number to interact with a thing that someone else has made—a flash game, a youtube video, a website where you can collect fictional pets—the idea of geocities to me at the time was this idea of participating on the internet. being a part of it. writing whatever i wanted and posting it. sharing the link with others. having others find it and read it too—a part of me, my method of creative self-expression, whatever i desired to write and post on the less than permanent internet.

my best friend at the time was the one who needled me into creating accounts—first an email address, then an AIM, then a myspace, then an IMVU, so on and so forth. i wasn't going out looking for these, and though i'd heard of them before or seen ads of some of these sites, i wasn't interested in actually being on these platforms and making these accounts until my friend told me that i should. call me a people pleaser or easily influenced or whatever; i was 12. but it was through this link sharing, this naivety and ignorance of the vastness of the internet, that allowed me to be fascinated with the world wide web in the first place.

i usually cite quizilla as my first "fandom" website, because it was—but it wasn't because i found it by accident. it wasn't that i googled it or looked for a personality test and stumbled upon it. no, it's because i was chatting with a friend on AIM, and she had found some crazy chain letter story and shared it to me for how absurd it was, and sent me the link. it was on quizilla.

literally the moment i clicked that link changed my life forever. even though i read the crazy story, i also clicked on the username of the person who posted it, out of curiosity. that person had jonas brothers fanfics on their quizilla profile, of all things, which led me into an obsession with the jonas brothers in the 2 years that followed. through that link—that account—that platform—i got a lot more interested in writing, webdesign, and what it meant to be on the internet, not just as a numbered participant, but also as someone with an imagination, who finds fulfillment in creative expression. i wrote the longest thing i'd ever written in that time (30k of a self-insert, but we won't go into that), began to experiment with css and website design, and participated, sharing stuff that i thought was interesting or fun, worth 5 minutes of anyone's time.

the internet wasn't just about being a place where my presence didn't matter anymore—it became a medium of self-expression. more than that, it became a place where i could meet and socialize with people, especially as i developed avpd in my high school years.

the internet wasn't always like this. right now, when we talk about the internet, we don't talk about the random websites we find, the links we stumble upon. (i have an entire website dedicated to those for me, though.) the games we spend hours playing, by ourselves, without interacting with others. random personality tests, or just simply the news. we talk about google, but in the same way we talk about facebook, or even twitter. it's a verb; it's omnipresent; it exists within the context of our internet culture, but becomes meaningless outside of it. it's not to say it doesn't have meaning—but that the language we use represents our relationship with it, this assumed normalcy. this assumed dependence.

i bring up my own history because as young as i feel compared to many of my older internet friends, and how late to the game i always felt—i was there. i was there on the internet before twitter (since 2009), tumblr (since 2010), facebook (i lied about my age), bluesky now, and whatever will come in the future. i was there when people were saying that the internet was still being written; when websites were made with tables (eugh); when email was the primary way to connect with others, because irc was for nerds and nothing else had been invented yet.

i'm a big advocate for not looking at the past with rose colored glasses and getting caught up in nostalgia and greener grass. i believe that technology is not inherently harmful or bad—it creates more options for accessibility, especially for those who are disabled. and even outside of that, it allows us to learn about more people, communicate with others with a few keystrokes, and form relationships that we otherwise would never get to have. i don't want this to seem like i'm saying "man remember how good the internet used to be?" because i'm not—i believe that as things change, there are benefits as much as there are hindrances.

of course, it bears saying that the primary hindrance—of current twitter, of many platforms over the years, and the internet with increasing recency—is corporations. big money interests. capitalism.

it's why we get so tired of ads—it's why ads exist in the first place. it's why these social media platforms that used to feel like they were made by the same people who would use them (livejournal, youtube, twitter) have suddenly become these soulless impersonal websites. it becomes more obvious that they want you to use them more because they sell you on exclusivity and visual minimalism, rather than because that's where your friends are, and you have this unique way to express yourself.

in fact, i'll say this: the first time i learned about facebook when i was too young to use it, i was not impressed. i had a myspace at the time that i had dolled up to make pretty with sparkly gifs and obnoxious colors and weird fonts. when i saw how boring and samey everyone's facebook profile page was, i was like, what's the point? sure i could talk to my classmates and random other people in my life that i didn't really care about, but what about making myself different from others? what about my creative expression? what about having an account that makes me look unique, instead of blending in with everyone else?

and so here i am nearly two decades later pondering about the use of social media, our individuality as well as our collective interests, and how the internet has changed so much, both in itself and how it affects us, in that time.

i'm here because i want to talk to my friends and meet new people with common interests and get excited about them. i don't want to feel left out, but that's a normal experience—outside of fomo, it is in our core to connect with others. it's the whole meaning of everything. it's why i even made an email in the first place, in my basement with my best friend, secretly setting up a yahoo account because she wanted another way to talk to me, and i wanted another way to talk to her. it's why people have been leaving twitter little by little for another site—the same site as many others, because that's where all their friends are. whether it's bsky or mastodon or misskey or just back here on tumblr, we're here not just because of our desire for community, but even as simple as our desire for a bond, a relationship with another human being. to me, that is how "social media" is defined—a medium through which we socialize because of this innate desire.

and yet, of course the enshittification and corporatification makes this more difficult for us, in ways more than one. because the fact is that as we (as people) became better at using the internet, finished writing it, and understood it—psychologically and sociologically—so did the corporations. or advertisers, you take your pick. we, the everypeople who use the internet as means to fulfill our social and other self-indulgent desires, are not the only people here. as with many things else in the world, the internet turned from an unpredictable but fun mess of us figuring shit out as we went along, into a product designed to keep us using it and engaging with it more, so some rich people can put even more money into their pockets. it's why twitter is the way it is now; even why tumblr is the way it is. why social media has become about "content creation" and "small businesses." why it feels like, every day, we see more ads and AI generated bullshit, as a little bit of the original soul of the internet gets sucked away day by day.

but even there, i don't want to come across as cynical or world-weary. though i believe this to be true, i don't think it says anything about our lack of agency, or our lack of innate humanity. instead, i believe that this means, at least on the individual level, that we should think more about not only what we're doing on the internet, but why we're doing it. how we're doing it. are we here because we're addicted? or is there something we're getting out of it? sure, many websites now have more addictive UI and algorithms that tell the receptors of our brain to return to them because we were getting so much dopamine from them earlier. but i also wouldn't necessarily argue that the only solution to this is to, then, go offline.

i have many friends who've elected to depart social media but stay online—friends who i met through website building, to be fair, but that's one of my main points. i already wrote a manifesto on my love letter to the personal website; but the tl;dr is this:

the internet is not evil, it is not good, it is just a form. if we desire to express ourselves and socialize with others in this space, it does not have to be just about social media, and creating a new account on a new website every time people move. instead, we have personhood—we have individuality, we have agency. we have the ability to build our own websites, no matter how shitty or times new roman comic sansy or color clashy or sometimes inaccessible they can be. regardless of all these seeming impractical setbacks though, it does not absolve us of that ability to do whatever we want on the internet. and it also bears saying that websites, both the personal and impersonal, can change over time, for better or worse.

i am a huge proponent for people making their own personal websites. it makes me so so happy that neocities is gaining popularity, mostly because i love seeing people try their own hand at making a website for themselves, a new form of self-expression. i won't go into too much detail on this because i've already said everything i want to say about it (see above), but if you take away anything from this post, let it be this: consider making a personal website, a corner of the internet, for yourself, by yourself. not just because you want people to engage with it, or because you want to curate to an algorithm or an artistic/fannish trend. not because you want the things you make to gain traction, to get bigger numbers without considering the people behind those numbers, as soon as possible.

do it because you want to. because you have to. because you think it's cool, and because it's you. people may find it and judge it; but they may like it as well. the more unique and authentic and weird we are with each other, the more we are able to appreciate each other for who we really are. the internet is one of many places we can do this.

i don't really see these forms of self-expression separate from social media, but i do see social media separate from it. to me, social media is a vehicle to strengthen those connections, those relationships, much like DMs and IRCs; but it is not the be-all, end all of the internet. it's only a small part of it. not everything is permanent on the internet; but everything that ever has been online is a microcosm of the human experience, whether it's an old cloudflare site or twitter dot com in 2010.

our experiences on the internet are not about corporate interests. it's about using limewire to download pirate music, sharing random links we find, building a design that may not be practical or universally appealing but still represents a form of individuality. when i think of how the internet has grown, i don't think about what it means for companies or advertisers or what meetings must go on to get people like me to keep using it—i think about remembering the difference between addicting games dot com and addicted games dot com, clicking links on websites to find even more websites, sitting at the family computer and deciding if i wanted to spend hours on neopets or that one willy wonka flash game i grinded like several hours on one night when i was 7. i think about what it's always meant to me, because the internet was not always a centralized place where i was going on the same website every day. the rise of internet centralization to the point that it's become expected, the norm, the primary way any of us to be online, is not inherently a bad thing—but i wouldn't say it's a universal good, either, when the internet is a wide and vast space, and can be so much more than that.

because the one thing that remains throughout the years is our agency and choice. we still have the ability to make the internet what we want it to be, or at least a corner of it, something separate from the corporations, the enshittification, economically researched user interfaces and experiences, the advertisements, the "like and share so the algorithm boosts me more." there's still a point to it all without the money, and without twitter. and it's both our desire for creativity and self-expression, as well as our intrinsic bonds with each other. despite it all, it's about our humanity.

as the internet continues to grow, so do we. nevertheless, the importance of our humanity, and retaining it, will remain. oftentimes it is up to us to remind ourselves of that.

-

links here, for access:

Bluesky CEO Jay Graber Says She Won’t ‘Enshittify the Network With Ads’

R U AN ARTIST ON SOCIAL MEDIA??? by omoulo

links @ kingdra.net (my links, like bookmarks)

A manifesto of sorts; or, my love letter to the personal website by me

[valictini]

(Anon from previous ask)

What doesn’t sit right with me is that Quackity said during a stream that there was no volunteer positions within his studios. Wouldn’t that mean that he or his team would have budgeted in order to account for admins payements even before the last merch drop ?

Even if you assume he wasn’t much involved in the behind the scenes workings of his company, didn’t know how many people exactly were working under it, it’s impossible to ignore the eggs admins, he literally played with them for months (putting aside Chunsik who joined much later, that makes 10 eggs who have been around for 6 months/an entire year).

Then if volunteers were never supposed to exist, wouldn’t they have budgeted in order to have enough money to pay AT LEAST these ten people every month ? Even if there was indeed a bad apple higher up who was misusing the funds before, this shouldn’t be an issue now.

I’m sorry for the rant, it’s just that the financial issues argument has felt very inconsistent for me since it was first brought up and I need to air my frustration.

Yeah I feel you anon, I really feel you.

First of all, I believe Quackity said he knew that there were volunteers, but he thought people were eventually hired after a trial. Also, I think the egg actors role was explicitly a volunteer role. Since it was supposed to last for like, 2 weeks, I can understand the reasoning. It should have probably been reevaluated after it was made clear that the eggs would stay longer though.

What still baffles me is that no official structure was implemented for when a new language would be included. I feel like one paid manager per language would have been the BARE minimum, but instead, we got Lumi (with later Lea) carrying the entire french side of the server alone, for months, for free, while also playing an egg.

Honestly, the ONLY way I can see Quackity being fully ignorant of the real state of things is that the administration lied about everything, especially the payment (as in, they showed fake receipts, declared that they paid people when they didn't, and pocketed the difference) AND, critically, that Quackity never checked himself.

This is in the realm of possibilities, and I wouldn't be surprised if it were what actually happened. Doesn't change the fact that it would mean that Quackity was sorely incompetent and naive, and doesn't excuse the real harm that this caused to the volunteers. But hey, at least he had no ill intents.

The fact that in this scenario, he never talked to the admins privately is, again, baffling to me, but seeing how limited the communication seemed to be between admins and ccs, it unfortunately is in the realm of possibilities too.

So here, this is the most generous scenario I can think of for Quackity. Unrealistic ambitions combined with absolute incompetence of how to manage such a big project and blind trust in people that ultimately exploited his ignorance.

Still, the fact that he never hired any HR and never personally checked why, for example, there were languages that were consistently left out of official announcements are a big red flag to me, and a reminder that we just don't know wtf happened. I want to believe he never intended for the abuse, but there are ways he has facilitated it when, as a law student, he should have known better, and people have every right to not trust his intentions.

[simplyvillainy]

📖Appreciating Quackity/QSMP’s Storytelling 📖

i want to take a second to appreciate how innovative Quackity’s story telling is because i haven’t seen some of my favorite things addressed!

not only has he brought together communities and started this revolutionary multi-lingual server, but he has made so many compelling and innovative creative choices that added to its success!

okay first of all, the fact that qsmp has admins that play npcs that add to lore and drive the story forward is already so cool to me. it allows for even more variety in the storyline and also each npc is so well executed??? like not only the eggs, but fred, ron, the various coworkers foolish is getting to know, and the list goes on.

but beyond implementing admins, quackity has incorporated so many media platforms into this story which takes it far beyond just being a minecraft server! it’s impressive from a creative standpoint, and super compelling as a viewer!

for those of you who don’t remember/know: during las nevadas we saw a hint of quackity’s storytelling creativity. quackity started making his lore more produced and implemented pre-recorded elements. on one of those streams, there was a cut from minecraft to real-life; quackity dumped a briefcase of poker chips on a table. fans LOVED IT! it was innovative and personally it drew me into the story in a way that i hadn’t seen done before.

i loved seeing this choice of mixing the minecraft world with the real world and the idea of using different media to tell a story was expanded upon even more-so in QSMP!

in order to tell the QSMP story, quackity pushes the limits of various platforms and he continues to come up with new ideas! he uses minecraft and enhances the gameplay through adding custom-made mods ranging from translators to the minimes. he created a “federation document” for the election and sent it to all the players in real life! he streamed the election results on twitch by dressing as his character, even acting as if he was talking to cucurucho. (not to mention including the audience in voting and all the statistics, even though the audience isn’t canon it was really entertaining). Beyond that, there are multiple QSMP twitter accounts that are canon and have interacted with each other! and even a website! And there is a museum in the QSMP spawn that showcases art from various fan artists!

The use of various media to build the QSMP story has been such an exciting thing to experience and it’s such an innovative way to keep delivering new and exciting content!

I’ve found myself wanting to analyze why I love the QSMP so much and this is just the tip of the iceberg as to why the specific storytelling choices feel so revolutionary and different. I can’t wait to see what the future holds!

[daryascurse]

ask game :3 can I get Bokuto with D, L, T? also, do you write for mha??

!! BOKUTO! !! 😍 An absolute sweetie this is so fun!!! Also, sure! I wrote several BNHA fics on my old account (Hawks, Hawks and Enji threesome, Aizawa, Dabi… maybe that’s all? They weren’t the BEST so I haven’t reposted lol) and I used to be super into it! But I must admit I’m not caught up on either the manga or anime, and am more on the periphery of the fandom rn.

ɴꜱꜰᴡ | ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ + BLANK / AGELESS BLOGS ᴅɴɪ // completely g/n reader not described with pronouns or genitalia, but descriptions of traditionally feminine lingerie are included

ALPHABET NSFW ASKS (still open! -- please limit to 3 letters max!)

D for Dirty [How do they dirty talk? What do they say?]

When Koutarou Bokuto calls you naughty at a dinner party, you have to laugh it off without making eye contact. If you look at him, his grin will be biting and his eyes will be wicked; his gaze will linger too long and burn through you. But he loves finding those moments where he can scold you or praise you subtly. In fact, most of that cheeky smile is a sneaky pride at himself as he watches you try to hide the way you fidget as the words strike you. Point for Koutarou. He’s the naughty one, and he knows it. He just loves riling you up in public! What you love the most is the way that naughtiness bursts out of him in private, the words that are thoughtless and not part of any little game. What you love is when he kisses you and touches you and makes your hips roll into the car seats, the kitchen counter, if you two don’t make it to the bed in time. When his amber eyes burn with desire, when his hand rubs between your thighs, and when words slip from him as he lifts his slick fingers to your parted lips. “Clean it.”

L for Lingerie [What kind of underwear do they like to wear or have their partner wear?]

It’s cliché, and you tease him for it, but, Koutarou is uncomfortable the first time you bring him inside your favorite lingerie store at the mall. It’s nothing comical or exaggerated or rude, but he’s definitely quieter than he usually is, responding to questions with short sentences and reluctant to share his opinion when you hold up two red lacy panties of slightly different design. You don’t push it inside the shop but, when you’ve made your purchase (a very cute little pink number) and are on your way for an iced coffee before going home, you ask him if he’s ever been in a lingerie store before. And his ears burn when he tells you no, that it just – doesn’t seem – the sort of place he should be – that he doesn’t want to tell you what to pick out or buy – … and his fingers shred the paper straw wrapping with nervous energy, even when you tell him, that’s the point of bringing him with you. He says he doesn’t even know what he would like. So you go back to the store alone the next day to make an exchange, and you find an innocuous satin slip; a creamy ivory somewhere between silver and gold, with gold threads in the lace that frames the heart-shaped neckline and creeps up the slit that opens the short, short dress to the hip. There’s some jewelry at the counter, too, and you inspect several necklaces before selecting a simple black velvet choker with a gold heart charm twinkling under the fluorescents. His eyes light up the same way that night, gleaming and recognizing the colors as reminiscent of the jersey pinned into one of the shadow boxes on the wall. He kisses you out of it gently, running his fingers over the silk and feeling you shiver into his touch below the fabric. He slides his fingers under the straps and helps you out of it, eager to open the present lying below the beautiful silver-gold wrapping. The choker stays on, strained against your throat as he makes you throw your head back and moan his name. “Maybe I’ll go help you pick something out next time, too.”

T for Trust [How would they implement rough sex or kinks?]

If something comes across your algorithms that piques your interests in a certain way, you and Koutarou privately share it. It’s a safe method to propose toys or positions or any other daring activity that might be questionable, a way that allows the post to easily be laughed off with a meme response and forgotten if it doesn’t appeal to the other the same. But most of the time, he responds to your DM propositions with the eye emoji, wide and curious. After the lingerie store experience, he’s bolder. He begins sending you more and more links – he finds handcuffs with mottled grey fuzzy coverings for the comfort of your wrists – he finds a gold anklet with a dangling B charm –  he finds a vibrating toy that nestles right into your panties with a magnetic clip and can be remotely controlled by an app – As soon as you react with a heart, thumbs-up, any sort of approval, he immediately texts a screenshot of the order confirmation. “Can’t wait to see you wearing this beneath me 😉”

[tactical-mode]

Back in syndicated TV days, the third episode had to be good, and it had to also catch new viewers up - you had to account for people not hearing about your show for the first few weeks. To that end, this was my favorite episode to make so far. 

I’m using the EC version of the score here. It’s 87 bpm, so while editing I grooved out to the likes of Coincidence by Sabrina Carpenter, La Bamba by Los Lobos, and Better Than by Lake Street Dive.

[Chapter 01] Scene 18:  Into the Mako Reactor

The biggest scene of the episode - a monologue with 6 cuts becomes a short dialogue with 18. In both this and the other big scene Barret is fully mo-capped, while only Cloud’s head is tracked, his body moves in a stilted way and at several point he’s, like, T-posing just below the frame haha. It presented an unexpected obstacle to filming, but luckily my storyboards are rough doodles easily scrapped, and I managed to get some good shots in and masked a lot of dialogue that wasn’t actually there. 

As for the scene’s script, here are the lines of interest:

Barret: Yo! This your first time in a reactor? (PS1/PC)

Barret: Yo. You’ve been in a reactor before, right? (Beacause/EC)

Barret: Hey. This your first time in a reactor? (Rogers A)

Barret: Here we are in a reactor, which I'm sure is a familiar sight to you. (Rogers B)

and

Barret: It's the life blood of this planet. But Shinra keeps suckin' the blood out with these weird machines. (PS1/PC)

Barret: All right, I’ll tell ya… Mako’s the lifeblood of our planet, but Shin-Ra’s usin’ all this weird crap around here to suck it dry! (Beacause)

Barret: They're bleedin' the planet dry! Shinra'd take every last drop of mako from the planet if they could. And this pile o' scrap they call a mako reactor is what let's 'em. (EC)

Scene 19-25: Codes and Doors

Multiple sequences were merged as I decided against including the combat in this room. First of all, I ONLY want to put combats at the end of episodes, so that viewers who don’t like it can just skip ahead once the slow-mo Matrix crap starts lol.

Anyway, I took some footage of Biggs and Jessie running from door to door. Getting these shots without boxes or bodies strewn all over the floor was actually pretty tough! Ha ha ha! I implemented a cross-fade sequence here to imply time passing. Not my favorite cinematic trick, but we got through it, and I even managed to include Biggs’ optional dialogue here.

Scene 23 was cut entirely, it’s a flashback FMV. Sc. 25 also jumps away, this time to our villains cackling in a tower. Snip snip. I transported a clip of Barret from a later scene and color corrected it to match, and boom! We’re in the elevator without the random encounter, or opening that chest. Just like my first playthrough!

Scene 26: The Elevator

I wanted a more muted score here so I changed from the EC track to 7R’s more orchestral arrangement by Shima. I had to speed it up and change its pitch in order for it to match Uematsu’s track.

Cloud: It's not my problem. (PS1/PC)

Cloud: Sorry, but I’m not interested. (Beacause/Rogers)

Cloud: Why should I care? (EC)

I went with Rogers here.

Scene 27-29: Mako Reactor Dungeon and Encounters

All right, the Matrix shit has kicked off, so give your brain a break and enjoy the fireworks. After some scenery porn (god this game is beautiful) we introduce Barret to battle!

Here we have the first proper 7R score variation: Shotaro Shima’s Mako Reactor - Battle Edit. Purists be damned! Additionally, Barret is outfitted with a Restore materia, when in the OG you don't find it until the next screen and can't use it until the next dungeon. This is one of only a few slight alterations made to adapt to the medium, and it has the upside of Barret not sounding like a moron later during the materia tutorial.

Folks who stick through to the end of the fight get a treat.

Final Thoughts

So I’m hoping fans of the OG are liking the vids, but they’re not my primary audience. I’m making this for people who have no idea what Final Fantasy is. I want to invite them through the story in a way that looks and sounds better than on PS1. How am I doing in that regard? In a way, this entire series could serve as a prologue to Remake, so I’m hoping 7R fans can also see this series’ value.

[dangerous-advantage]

concerning the new changes (07.10.23)

all right fuck it i wasn't gonna do this but then i ended up filling the tags on the post i reblogged.

so here's my thoughts on staff's 'Tumblr's Core Product Strategy" post and the things that i think could actually be good!... if staff respects tumblr's culture in implementing them.

to note, i am referring to this post. for better context, please go read the whole thing and try not to skip details, since i think it's important to understand the post through your own perspective if you want to participate in the conversation.

this post worried me at first, both because changes in the tumblr ecosystem with as much weight as this post carries have, historically, been pretty bad for the userbase.

starting off with a focus on creating a larger user base and inviting more, new creators rather than with a strong plan to focus on improving the current state of tumblr sets off alarm bells.

reading through the rest of it leaves me with... mixed thoughts. while it honestly does seem like they've heard a lot of the things we've been screaming at them about and might actually take steps to make things improve, i'm still wary.

this isn't a post explaining specific changes tumblr plans to implement. in fact, there are relatively few examples of actual strategies being communicated. it's just an overview with a lot of implications for the future.

i mean, not even the new tumblr labs group has any idea what the exact changes are going to be. just look at this:

[ID: A screenshot containing text from a post made by the aforementioned account. It reads, "But we're not sure exactly what that change looks like, so we've assembled a new team, called Tumblr Labs, to figure it out as quickly..." It cuts off here. /End ID]

and i think that's the problem.

so, the post. staff explains that the issue, as they see it, is that the platform is fundamentally flawed-- i.e., because tumblr is difficult to use if you don't have an understanding of the site before, it tends to scare off new users rather than encourage engagement.

this isn't untrue. however, it should be noted, the tumblr userbase has cultivated a culture of teaching newcomers how the website and the website's culture functions. (see: the many posts made as 'guides' in the wake of the twitter and reddit fiascos, as well as @/strange-aeon's video on the topic.)

(not to say that this system isn't imperfect and could be improved by directing new users to the these posts, buuuuuuut i'll get into that later.)

now: i (and i think most of the userbase) agree with staff on the main point-- tumblr, as a platform, is broken. we have long complained about the bugs and the messy reblog chains and the notifications overwhelming you if a post gains traction.

(though, we've also just integrated that into tumblr culture, but that's a tangent for a different time.)

here's the thing: staff does mention these things as problems they want to fix.

here's a short list of some things the post mentions that i honestly agree are a problem, and that a lot of people have wanted to see change!

[ID: Screenshots of items taken from the bulleted lists on staff's post. These read as follows: "Improving Tumblr's search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards." "Making it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread." "Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral." "Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.""Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users." /End ID]

again, these are things that i agree are issues and would be cool to see improved upon. but staff doesn't tell us how they plan to do this.

in staff's response to the userbases' assumption that they're going to remove the reverse-chronological dashboard, they state they're 'surprised' users came away with this assumption.

i, for one, am not.

the relationship between tumblr staff and the tumblr collective has been strained for a long time. mounting frustrations about users' actual issues with the website being ignored while new features are implemented that are almost unanimously disliked doesn't help.

and don't forget, the last time a change as drastic as this post is making it seem came into action, the porn ban was implemented. a change that had an overall negative effect on the community and tumblr's culture at large. it tore away crucial aspects of tumblr's identity that we'll probably never get back.

so while this post does address issues users have wanted to see fixed, of course we're still going to be wary.

the bottom line is, users don't trust staff to implement changes that will be beneficial to improving the platform for the tumblr userbase. (the recent reddit and twitter debacles don't help things much, either.)

i think staff needs to realize, as the final poster put it, tumblr already has innate value. value created by the community.

if staff focuses on improving tumblr to be easier to use-- in accordance with elevating tumblr's culture-- it will attract more people, simply by being less broken all the time.

this brings me to the other (main) issue i have: putting new users first over the current userbase.

this may not have been what staff meant to imply, but the emphasis seems to be on improving the userbase for incoming users, rather than those of us who are already here.

to be clear, i don't think that making tumblr easier to navigate for new users is bad. i mean, there's a reason we were writing guides. joining tumblr if you aren't already exposed to it can be daunting.

allowing new users to rely on an actual, working algorithm (although i think a user-driven algorithim is possibly one of the best parts of tumblr) isn't inherently bad. using that algorithim to elevate new creators isn't bad, either.

it's the way they choose to do this that makes us wary. like i mentioned before, we already have somewhat of a system for on-boarding new users to the site: word of mouth from more experienced users. this helps with both learning how to navigate tumblr and introducing new users to tumblr culture.

with all this in mind: where do we go from here?

in my mind, the solution for these problems comes down to communication. if staff wants more trust from the tumblr userbase, they need to show they are willing to listen to feedback from the tumblr collective.

when implementing changes, a great way to avoid the immediate backlash and distrust of tumblr users is by clearly outlining the changes they plan to make and the strategies by which they will be carried out.

another user made the analogy that websites should be like cities, where the users have a say in (as staff puts it) the 'evolution of tumblr.'

(mmmmmaybe we could use that spiffy new poll feature, too? everybody loves polls!)

for on-boarding new users, staff could take inspiration from the userbase in implementing a system by which new users are given the information needed to navigate tumblr. tidy up the site, remove bugs, and make it easier to use, and a lot of problems will sort themselves out.

then, we can go from there.

regarding the rest of the stuff i brushed over, i don't feel i can really say much without knowing what they actually plan to do, or where they plan to go with these things.

for example, here's another list of images of things from the post that i am cautiously intrigued by, but am worried will be improved for the worse:

[ID: Another series of images, showing more of the items listed in staff's post. They read as follows: "Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs." "Get creators' new content in front of people who are interested in it." "Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting." "Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs." "Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds." /End ID.]

the bottom line is this: if staff wants the support of the userbase in upcoming changes, they need to show that they respect and value us and the culture at large. in my opinion, staff has made strides in embracing tumblr culture, but we need to know these changes are not just motivated by profit.

if staff intends to keep it's current users, they need to to recognize that we deserve a say in this, too.

without the userbase, tumblr wouldn't exist. end of story. we are what keep tumblr alive. as stated before, expanding the userbase is not a bad thing. but doing so to the detriment of tumblr's culture is.

in this regard, i do truly hope that staff means what they said in the conclusion of their original post:

[ID: An image of the conclusion of staff's post. It reads: "Our mission has always been to empower the world's creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that priotitizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we--" The words then cut off. /End ID]

so, @staff. if you really do believe this: prove it.