#getting this out of my system before I do any Asks

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Chan*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut:

A/N: I could have kept going with this and yes it’s already long. But like- Chans the definition of this series ok? 😂

-💜

•He’s just in his element.

•If any of them have a daddy thing it’s 100% him.

•He treats you like a princess.

•Spoils the fuck out of you.

•Gets grumpy when you try and pay for anything because how dare you.

•He’s such a gentleman.

•You’ll never have to open your own doors.

•He enjoys taking long showers together and after

•He loves having you sit infront of him brushing your hair for you.

•Matching outfits, matching jewelry.

•He’s so easy to talk to too.

•If you’re having a bad day, you know you can just curl up with him and cry.

•He’s great at consoling you when anything happens.

•Holding you tightly to him as he reminds you about how amazing you are.

•He’s super clingy honestly.

•If you’re with him he’s always gotta be touching you in some way.

•Hand holding, Legs touching. Something.

•You keep him more grounded than you probably know.

•He finds almost anything you do super cute.

•Oh this man just gets all cheesy when you’re pouting. Finds it so fucking cute.

•Definitely doesn’t have a whole folder of songs for your birthday or anniversary.

•You’re literally like a fire to him and he’s the moth.

•It’s really hard to ever really really upset him.

•He’s pretty level headed.

•Most days if you’re being grumpy or cranky he’ll sit with you asking what’s the matter and how he can help.

•If you’re giving him attitude almost always he can make you stop with just that look.

•He has the habit of telling you way to sweetly “fix your attitude princess or I’ll have to fix it for you. Be good for daddy”

•He’s really to soft, but when he needs to be stern he does it in a way that still makes you feel so safe.

•He’s really just a safe space. You’ll never feel like your emotions are too much with him.

•He constantly will reassure you.

•He sends you such loving messages too, long paragraphs of why he loves you.

•Never not having a good morning or good night text. Even if you just got off the phone.

•It feels like taboo to him not too.

•He’s not a super jealous type, but he’s protective.

•He knows you love him so much, your eyes never leaving his.

•But how can he trust others when you’re just so cute.

•He’ll hover over you when you’re out sometimes. Like he’s waiting. Ready to attack anyone who dares upset him princess.

•Constantly hugs yous tightly burring himself into you saying “mine” cutely.

•He’s really just wrapped around your finger and he’s fine with that.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He has almost 2 personality’s.

•The super sweet loving one where he wants to take it so slow.

•He’ll eat you out for hours making sure you cum before you even fuck.

•He talks so much. He talks you through it 100%.

•He makes just as much noises as you do tbh.

•He’s a missionary lover for sure.

•Always wanting to see your pretty face. Plus how else is he gonna kiss you?

•He’s just so sensual and passionate.

•Other times he- can just lose himself.

•Stressful day? He’s having you on your knees while he face fucks you.

•He’s definitely into free use with you especially waking you up with head or his dick just slowly pushing into you.

•All with complete consent. He’ll never do anything without asking you prier and establishing boundaries.

•Has a safe word and does the color system.

•He can get ahead of himself sometimes. Losing it with you.

•Pushing your face into the bed fucking you like he hates you.

•Those beautiful hands of his leaving bright red hand prints on your ass.

•Or wrapped around your neck like a choker. He also really enjoys having you suck his fingers.

•Breeding kink. Breeding kink. Breeding kink.

•He’s also somehow so good at degrading you while making it sound so- sweet?

•”My dirty little princess, you’re soaked just from kissing?”

•He has one of those machines that can fuck you while he’s not home. And of course a custom made dildo that is a mold of his cock.

•Loves FaceTiming you while on tour guiding you through your orgasm.

•Always teases you and doesn’t let you cum at first. Not until you’re begging well enough.

•This man is also team remote vibe.

•He just thinks it’s so damn adorable watching you squirm while you’re out.

•He’s not much better though. He can’t keep his hands to himself.

•Could be having dinner out and he’s gonna be knuckles deep into your sopping hole till he can’t handle it.

•100%. Fucks you infront of mirrors. Not only so you can watch how well he fucks you.

•But so he can tell you things like “look how beautiful you are when you’re cumming around my cock”

•Like I said he’s definitely a talker so something’s he says are:

•”Daddy’s gonna fill you so full princess. I’m gonna fuck you till I know you’re pregnant.”

•”Don’t you run from me, I’m not done with you yet”

•”God it’s like you were made to take my cock princess.”

•”Daddy loves you, love you so fucking much.”

•And one of his favorites “you say you can’t take it anymore but you’re pretty hole is telling me she wants more”

•King of aftercare.

•On days he goes a little harder he’s making sure you know he loves you.

•He has you wrapped in his arms while he talks to you.

•Likes to sing to you to calm you down from intense orgasms.

•Warm baths with candles, and snacks.

•Kinda like Minho he puts one of his hoodies in the dryer for you.

•Making sure it smells like him before he wraps you in the warmth.

•You’re basically trapped for a while because he just wants to hold you.

•He really loves you and he wants to make sure you always know that.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143 @hyunjins-orange-slice-too

[chronicangel]

I mean, obviously yes, people with ADHD are just kind of abandoned by the system completely, but I feel like this post is somewhat obviously about the way that "smart" kids with ADHD and high-achieving kids with ADHD are not only neglected by the system but exploited by it.

I was a good student in all the traditional senses. I got good grades, I loved school, I did not have any significant behavioral issues. All of this was directly because of the fact that I had ADHD, which went undiagnosed until I was 20. I got good grades and loved school and was well-behaved because I found learning stimulating, and I needed mental stimulation so I didn't explode.

I was actually just going down an hour-long spiral yesterday about how if anyone had ever just told me that hyperactivity could be mental I would have realized that I had ADHD before I was 20 entire years old. Nobody ever bothered to tell me that it wasn't normal to frame every moment of your life around the need for intellectual stimulation so your thoughts didn't start racing and spiraling out of control. No one ever told me that experiencing writing as a form of meditation because it's one of the few times you're allowed to just sit in your whirlwind of thoughts for a few hours and pick out the good parts without trying to force yourself to Pay Attention to the Right Things was not, in fact, how everybody else was experiencing it. No one ever told me that plotting 10 scenes ahead in your pretend play (or, as I got older, roleplay) and then getting excited when the other person didn't follow your plotline because it meant you got to plot 10 more scenes ahead with new ideas was not why everybody else was doing that.

Every moment of my life I have had a constant, uncontrollable internal monologue, and it never stops, and it never shuts off, and it just goes and goes and goes. And the only thing I can do to make it bearable is find the things that are intellectually interesting, so my thoughts can all get channeled into One Thing, and they aren't bouncing all over the place and completely overwhelming me until I can't function at all anymore.

And no one ever told me, or asked me, or said or did anything. Because I got good grades.

[funnier-as-a-system]

Hey, um... This ain't exactly.. An easy thing to say but, uh..

.._I SCARED OFF MY HEADMATES._

I JUST REFERRED TO THEM AS "THE VOICES" BECAUSE. WELL. I DIDN'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT THIS STUFF THEN!! AND ALWAYS DISREGARDED THEM WHENEVER THEY SPOKE [THEY ARGUES A WHOLE LOT. LITERALLY COULDN'T DO ANY WORK FROM THE SOUNDS OF 0NI, D AND COMPLEXITY ARGUING ALL THE TIME-]

Ok.. Calm calm.....

So. I never ever listened to them and sometimes also arguing with them tried my best to ignore them.. Yelling "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" repeatedly usually got them to... Well, _shut up._

But just. We had another argument together. After _STARSCREAM_[don't even ask me how she got in here I don't fucking know] decided to act all mighty and shit another yelling match started that I just.. Couldn't take it anymore.. I had some.. Uhm, "quite the words" to say the least. They silenced for the day after that..

And then the next morning they just.. Weren't there when I woke up. At first I was, well, glad! It was finally quite for once! I could do things that normal people did! But uh.. After the second day it was far too quiet for my liking.. And.. It's been a month now. It's still too quiet.. Starscream[why HIM instead of others I have no idea] came back for 20 minutes a week ago.. I was glad to have at least SOMEONE back but she went away again..

I learned about this whole "system" stuff thanks to a follower saying "oh this is such a funny post as a system!" on a reblog I've done. --Which led me here. I've been... _Learning_ the past few days.. And. Well. Things really do fit me well and.. I'm not sure if I hate that or not...

I.. The reason for this _ask_ is because.. I wanted to know if others had this.. Well, "_experience_" too? Like.. I.. I miss them, alright? It suddenly went from 7 to 1 in here and it's far too quiete!!! I just.. I wanted to know if there was possibly a way to bring them back..?

I understand if this isn't the way to go for this typa stuff but... I.. I really don't know _where else_ there is.

Welp. Thanks for.. Having this account and all I suppose. Were a real help in things and, the posts are quite funny as well..! [Sigh..]

- @blog-bites-eats-u-violently

Hey, there. It sounds like you've been having a rough time lately. You have my sympathies for that. I won't give too much advice on this situation you're in – I don't feel equipped to do that – but you're not alone in this experience, anon. We went through a very similar situation a few years back, actually.

At the time, we'd just recently made our then-host (as in, the headmate who was our host at the time) aware that they had others in their head, that they were part of a system. We had... a rough few months after that, filled with fear and doubt. And at one point, our then-host became overwhelmed, and ended up driving away the headmates who were talking to them.

The silence lasted for about two days before another headmate of ours stepped up to talk to our then-host, helping them work through their issues and reconnect with those they'd run off. From what they can remember of the event, it was mostly a matter of mentally "reaching out" – consciously trying to connect to the ones they'd driven off so they could apologize. None of us are sure how it worked – best we've got is that we've always visualized our communication difficulties as walls that we have to get our internal communication/messages past – but it did, and we're all chill now on that front.

So, yes, others have had this experience before, and your headmates will likely come back to talk to you again. I can't promise anything, but if my-our story is anything to go off of, even situations like this can be recoverable. It just may take a while for all the hurt to be worked out.

[alacants]

Have you seen the rumors Carlos and JCF are splitting up

literally just saw this - i feel like this is a pretty standard kinda rumor to come out of an ""early"" loss so no idea how credible it is. early heavily scare quoted for reasons below.

also saw a rumor that alcaraz sr. is the one who wants the split which, IF true, would make sense—if you're looking at this from his pov, your kid is an adult who doesn't need hand-holding any more and now it's time to think about the direction of his future. (this is kind of what i was getting at with that one ask reply a while ago, about what would happen if carlos hit a sustained slump—that there's a lot more factors in play, and a lot more riding on his career, than just his own personal feelings.) plus, like, with zero disrespect to either juanki or alcaraz sr. intended, it's unlikely that they have always agreed 100% because humans don't usually do that, and this is the type of situation where you suddenly start remembering all those times you didn't. even if they weren't actually that significant.

but i've said before that i don't see a split happening unless carlos hits a major slump and this isn't a major slump. it's just not lol.

i'm a lot more sanguine about AO results than many tennis fans (not necessarily on tumblr) seem to be. i don't really think carlos going out in QFs to novak djokovic on a fast hard court is that shocking. and i think that 1) talking up the career slam and 2) the relative ease of his early round matches set unrealistic expectations.

novak got in carlos' head for sure (favorite quote about this: "limped one-legged into his brain and scrambled it from the inside") but he's been getting into the heads of older, better, more experienced players for the last 20 years. he did this to roger fucking federer all the time! and somehow a 21-year-old with a middling record of mental/emotional control is supposed to already have the answers? if anything i thought carlos did much better managing his mentality than he would have in the same situation, say, last summer. he wasn't playing the best game—he was pretty lost tactically—but he wasn't losing control of himself, either. that "i want to smash my racket but i'm not gonna" moment was the worst of it. he was still hanging in there and working to get his play back on track. it was just too late by the time he did.

like yeah man i think carlos DOES need to beef up his team tactically. juanki's strength is clearly like... coaching the player as a whole person. less solving complex tactical problems on court. but my read on carlos is that he still needs that element in his support system and i have a hard time believing someone else would be any more effective handling the mentality piece.

lots of words about what will probably turn out to be another rumor generated by some fans' wishful thinking lmao. but tl;dr new coach talk is premature and tbh carlos could quote-unquote underperform at roland garros and i would still not be inclined to read too much into it. if he doesn't do well at wimbledon? then we'll talk.

[pockypuck]

"No--you--what have you done?!" they gasp, clutching the table like a lifeline.

I shake my head a little, wiping my mouth of the last few drops and giving an incredulous grimace. "A celestial shot, from the taste of it." Ooh, tingly.

"You mixed them," they say, anguished enough to state the obvious.

I raise my eyebrows, flexing my fingers a little as the capillaries start to throb with my quickening pulse. "Of course I did. You offered me both, and then added a false dichotomy."

"False--what?"

"False dichotomy. Presenting two options as the only choices when there are others available."

"I know what a--do--do you have any idea what you've begun?!" They’re sweating quite profusely for an extraplanar being, the collar of their shirt losing its starch and their silvery hair dampening against their brow.

I shrug. "Something interesting, from your reaction. I expect I'll find out shortly." Oh yeah, very shortly. I can already feel my eyes starting to water and sharpen at the same time. "At least I won't die, though."

"Y--" They go even paler, somehow, staring at me with wide eyes and such distress that the air around them is vibrating. I grin at them with lots of teeth.

"Yeah, figured on that. Celestial essence doesn't mix with human life too well, does it? Too rigidly aligned, one way or another. Most people's systems can't handle it. They run hot for a few months, get all those cool powers, then burn out like an overclocked CPU. Nice try, though." I lick my lips, trying to identify the flavor left behind. Sea salt and chocolate from the mocha, I figure, and something that I can only describe as spite. What I get for mixing it in a Starbucks cup, I guess.

They're still stuttering, eyes now tracing along the outline of my shoulders as if watching for weapons. "But--how did--?"

"How did I know to mix them?" It's not a guess. I'm starting to feel the questions on my skin before they ask them. "Simple. They're the same thing."

Their face twists in revulsion. Heh, they didn't like that.

"Mostly," I amend. "Demons are just angels with defiance mixed in, after all. The base is the same. But mixing god-ordained defiance--" they twitch hard "--with absolute obedience was either going to explode immediately or cancel each other out." I sit back and cross my arms, feeling the proteins in my muscles start to fold and twist into energy the likes of which the world hadn’t seen in millennia. "So I tested it."

"This is--you can't," they rasp, but not as if they believe it. No, it sounds as though their belief is very fragile right now. "You can't be."

"I mean, it turns out that I very much can." I spread my arms, my fingers. It takes very little effort to add a few, subtract them, change them to claws, wrap air and fire and time around them. I keep it short; there are people in this cafe, even if they can't notice us right now. "And really, I should thank you. If you hadn't given me both at once, I couldn't have pulled it off. So this," I gesture to all of me, the shifting skin and brightening eyes and power beginning to radiate in waves, "is all your fault."

They inhale with a shudder, and then their eyes narrow. "Then you are my--my responsibility, and I will--"

"I don't think so," I say sharply, my hand clenching. The energy gathering at their fingertips cuts off as if it's never been. They're pallid again. "See, you might be able to hop planes all you want, but this is my home. Some fancy potion can't change that. God can't change that, if He even wants to. And now you're in my home, and you're no longer the biggest thing here." I stand up, and they're not visible but I can feel them at my back, long feathered wings with bones like steel and little clawed tips flexing and shivering with barely-contained power. "So you can get the fuck out of my home with your mind games and your holy war. And if you come back--if any of you come back--I will know, and I will make you regret it."

It's so easy. I reach for their pale, panicked face, and they're gone. Not sure where, but it's not like I care about the details right now.

I sigh, look around, and settle my power back beneath my skin with effort. The people around me continue to get their coffee and croissants without any indication that something extraordinary has happened.

That's good. Nephilim don't have the best reputations. I can change that, though. I can make our home a better place, and Heaven and Hell had better watch their step.

"In the first vial there is a pure demonic essence, and in the second there is pure angelic essence-" Without letting them finish, you mix both vials and drink the mixture.

[spencersbabymama]

Numbers l Chapter Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Disabled OC

Content Warning: Disability, negative self talk, blushing Spencer, talk of bizarre piercing fetish

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Brooke is thrust into work and it's not exactly what she expects.

Taglist: @just-call-me-by-yn @esote-rika

A/n: Thank you all for reading so far! Working on this fic has really made me fall in love with writing again 🩷🩷🩷 Also again, credit to @just-call-me-by-yn for always making my banners! I love you!

Story:

Luckily, Hotch had apparently worked closely with Penelope to explain the adaptive tech I use to run a pc efficiently.  So now I was helping her rummage through my backpack.  I have to admit watching her pull out various tangled plugs was an entertaining sight.  At first I wanted to apologize for not having my equipment more organized, but Penelope was so proud of herself every time she untangled a new wire. It was like a game to her.  

While that fiasco was going on, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Spencer dragging his finger down each page of the case file then turning each page about every 15 seconds.  His eyes tracked each word at lightning speed.  Honestly it looked like when a kid pretends to read to get it over with.  I know I should probably just leave him be, but my curiosity outweighed manners.  My eyebrows furrow in his direction “Are you really reading that fast?”

His head snapped up to look at me “Hm?” He looked confused at first but after a second he let out a small laugh under his breath like he was a little embarrassed and nodded softly “Yeah…”

My mouth opened to ask obvious follow up questions, like most notably, how on earth is that even humanly possible? But I was quickly cut off.

Spencer cleared his throat before continuing “Actually our conscious minds can process 16 bits of information per second, while our unconscious mind can process 11 million.  So to answer your question, yes I really can read this fast.”

There goes my stunned face again and I blinked at the guy for a moment.  I wasn’t sure if I should be disturbed, or wildly impressed by this guy’s smarts, I was mostly in awe. He was like a human computer.  I like computers, so we’ll probably get along.  

My face softened and I giggled softly “Cool.”

That same pink tint creeped across Spencer’s cheeks as he smiled, then went back to reading the case file.

Did this guy ever get complimented?  This was the second time he blushed in my direction and I wasn’t sure what I was doing to cause it.  Honestly it was kind of… cute in a boyish kind of way.

“Ah ha!” Penelope cheered, making me turn around to see her proudly displaying all my equipment set up.  

I smiled and guided my wheelchair up to the desk, making sure everything I would need is plugged in.  Although there was probably no need to doubt Penelope, her portion of the desk had three separate monitors she had to run, a few plugs were most likely nothing to her.

Penelope hung my backpack on the back of my wheelchair before taking her seat next to me “Should we take this for a spin?” She grinned.

I smiled back, unable to hide my eagerness to get started.  Penelope handed me the small mouse that fits in my hand along with the touchpad keyboard and I signed into my system for the first time.

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Snapshots of different message exchanges appear on my screen.  It took a little bit of time, but after about an hour, Penelope, Spencer, and I managed to find one common person all the missing women have had contact with.  Their username was Hotrod94, if that doesn’t scream man who thinks he’s a gift from God I don’t know what does.  The back and forth text exchanges stopped completely within 3 days so the timeline fit.  Now us 3 were looking through each conversation for any info we could find that could tell us anything about where these women could be, or who took them.

Each message seemed normal, too normal.  It was almost haunting how the person on the other side of the screen could sound so charming.  No matter how smart or vigilant these women were, they didn’t have a chance.

“These poor girls had no idea what they were walking into…” Penelope sighed under her breath.  I could hear the empathy and hopelessness she was feeling for these women on the screen.

I couldn’t help but feel it myself.  It was one thing to talk about it, but looking into the eyes of each woman now, only made the urgency to find them stronger.  During training they tell you don’t get emotionally involved, don’t let yourself go there.  It will cloud your judgment.  Sure, most of that is true, but now that I was here, empathy is what was pushing me.

Spencer stuck his head between us to get a better look at the screens.  His eyes squinted like he was trying to focus on something.  You didn’t have to look at him hard to see the hamsters running on a wheel in his head.  With that brain of his, those hamsters were probably running a marathon at lightning speed.  The poor creatures probably don’t know what rest even is.

His face was only a few inches from mine but for some unexplainable reason, he felt closer.  It was like my personal bubble doubled in size to fit him inside.  My gaze kept flickering in his direction before I realize what I’m doing and my attention goes back to the screen in front of me.  That cycle went on about 3 times before Spencer finally spoke.

He used his pen he had been fidgeting with and pointed to one of the sentences sent by the unsub. “He never uses I in a sentence, it’s almost like he's trying to distance himself from each woman.”

Penelope scoffed, “Well if I had a soul and I was manipulating these women anyway, I’d do the same.”

I try not to laugh, but a small snicker slipped through anyways.  It was going to be fun sitting next to this sass every day.

I look back at the screen like before, but this time something sticks out.  My eyes narrow as I tap a few keys to zoom in on each woman's ear.  It can’t be, it’s probably a reach.  “Is it just me, or do all these women have double piercings on their ears?  That’s probably a coincidence, right?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.  I didn’t want my voice to show I wasn’t confident in my findings.

Spencer looks over at my screen before shaking his head “No… that actually makes sense…”  His voice trails off like he was still thinking.  Then he stood up straight to continue “Actually that could be huge for the profile.  There’s a fetish called Piquerism.  Essentially it’s when someone feels aroused by piercing another.  Most commonly by stabbing or slashing, but it can occur when the person has a simple ear piercing.”

“Ew.” Penelope shudders.

I was still reeling from the way Spencer spit out that information like it was common knowledge.  He almost seemed proud of himself for having that in his back pocket.

He clearly didn’t pick up on the creeped out looks on Penelope and I’s face because he continued like nothing happened “Penelope, can you let the team know?”

She shuddered one more time before nodding.  

I was too much in my head to pay attention to her calling the team.  This was my new reality.  Dealing with potential creeps like this was now my usual.  I knew it was going to be hard sitting in front of these screens every day and looking at the horrors that dance across them, but now that I was here, I was afraid nightmares were going to find me in my sleep every night.  How did these people do it?  Maybe I don’t have the stomach for this.  

I glanced over at the numerous toys on Penelope’s side of the desk and the dark cloud that was forming over my head started to break up to let light in.   The bright colors drowning out the darkness.  

“That was- um… A good catch Beven.” Spencer stuttered quietly enough that the call didn’t pick up his voice.

I look up to see him smiling softly.  Even though those words seemed shaky, they gave me a surge of confidence.  Hearing I did something good from someone as smart as him made me want to give myself a pat on the back.  My lips curl into a smile.

I already considered Penelope a friend, but it seemed like I can add Dr. Spencer Reid to that list.  Leading up to today I was so nervous how the team would perceive me, wheelchair and all.  I was lucky for most of my life I was surrounded by people who didn’t see me as different.  My parents, my family, and my friends never made me feel like I was less than.  The professional scene always seemed a little daunting though.  I knew what it looked like to any bystander, she can barely lift her arms, how is she supposed to be anything else than the greeter at Walmart?  I get it, honestly I would probably say the same thing if I was them.  Regardless, I knew I had more in me, and I was grateful everyone here saw what I could do, not what I can’t.

“Bevan, can you come with a list of tattoo parlors that also provide piercings in the general area of the abductions?” Hotch’s voice catches my attention through the call system “We’re gonna split up and find out who frequents the most.”

I quickly nodded, giving a “Yes sir.” Before he assigns Penelope a cross checking assignment. 

My fingers tap away, narrowing down a list of parlors that aren’t close to the abduction sights.  After a minute, I relay the list to Hotch, followed by him thanking me.  

Penelope hangs up before giving me a high 5 “Good work Newbie.  Someday you might be as fast as yours truly.” She jokes while resting her chin on her hands.

I snicker and shake my head “I appreciate that, but I watch you type and I don’t think I could ever get there.”

“Hm…” Penelope smirks before turning back to her computer screens “You're smart too, Newbie.  I am the best.”

Now Spencer and I laugh.

[lenniexprime]

Rejection.

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.”- C. S. Lewis

┍━━━━━»•» «•«━┑

tfa! optimus x teen! senior! reader.

rejection fucking sucks dude. I hate getting those rejection letters. I really do. But honestly, I can't help but appreciate and be thankful for the schools I've gotten into. However, something about this is grief is only letting me cope through writing it. Share it with me, yeah?

┕━»•» «•«━━━━━┙︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ - Not Edited

Look at you... A college-bound senior, getting ready to take on whatever comes your way.

You've made it thus far...what can stop you now? The challenges are getting good grades, staying on top of things, and doing well on every test. You stayed up most nights, studying or doing homework. You've skipped out on days at the base or to hang with the rest of your friends on days or weeks before tests.

You may have messed around years before, but this year, this is your senior year. No room for mistakes, no room for too much error.

You've impressed yourself and others with such determination to get good grades on everything.

If you were being honest with yourself, that really wasn't the hard part. The hard part was the fact that you had to apply to colleges, get the right documents in, and ask for recommendation letters.

The stress took and is still taking over the majority of your whole life.

If you didn't think the weekends were getting more like weekdays before, then you definitely are now. You could barely catch a break and if you ever did it was so hard to get back into the grind of things. As time went on, you found you had little interest in doing things you enjoyed before. You looked at your video games differently, you could barely stay entertained for a whole movie, and your homework wasn't getting any more interesting.

One day, you were sitting in base, telling Sari about the dangers that are ahead of her in the years coming, but when two bots came in just as you were talking about how you found no interest in things anymore, she couldn't stop but just stare back at you while staring at the bots behind her, working on something.

You honestly didn't care about talking in front of the bots about your problems though. You didn't think they'd care that much about the situation.

Sari couldn't get the look of worry off of her little face as she stared between you and the bots. You didn't care much about it until she got up and left as soon as Bumblebee came.

You sigh and lay back on the couch, looking to the side, hearing thumps behind you.

"We are no strangers to losing interest in what we may use to enjoy due to excessive stress, but that does not mean you can't try," Ratchet says crossing his arms. "It is always nice to have a hobby or something to distract you," Optimus chimes in, his deep voice making you finally look back. You sigh.

"Also we're here, it doesn't hurt to talk to others during times of struggle," He adds.

Ratchet then walks off, leaving Optimus and you behind.

"My communication issues suck, but not only that but it's hard for me to try to communicate my teenage feelings to a 8-year-old and alien robots who have little to no knowledge of what I could be going through in here," You point at your head.

"Yes, we may not know, but at least you know you have a support system," he says quietly. "You were talking to Sari earlier, yes?" he asks rhetorically.

You close your eyes, shaking your head, putting it down. "Yeah Optimus, thank you," you mumble. "It's just hard, plus not only do I have to stay on top of grades, but I'm really nervous about being accepted to these schools," you say, hands motioning how you feel.

You look up at him again. "I'm scared of getting rejected..denied..worse," I say mumbling again.

Optimus looked at you, living in his own stress and despair, it's not easy seeing such a young human like you stress like he does. Everyone has their own responsibilities, but it gets to a point. He doesn't want you to be scared of rejection, he wants you to accept it, to learn from it, to push you through it. He remembers how he was, getting kicked out of the academy, he felt rejected and denied. He was still trying to recover. He wants you to understand that it's okay to make mistakes, to make tough decisions, or to be okay with a school denying you. It didn't define who he was (partially) so it shouldn't defy you.

"I understand your fear, I was there once, I had the pain of being denied, of being rejected almost," He went on, sitting next to you. "You have to understand that rejection and failure make us stronger people," He finishes, looking at you. "Don't be afraid to be sad, but don't let it take over your whole life. It's one moment out of many successes you're yet to have." He smiles at you. You smile back, finding some peace in what he had spoken to you. Maybe he found peace in his own words too.

[tgmsunmontue]

White Hot - 2/? - Hangster

A TGM AU - Blacksmith + Metal-artist Jake and History Teacher Bradley.

ONE

                Jake is used to people coming and going through the forge. There’s a viewing platform large enough for about sixty people and a whole sound system set up so they can talk about what he’s doing while he’s working. It’s a few hours before any scheduled display though, and the forge is quiet considering how noisy it can get, and he hears someone mumble something and it has him looking up to find a guy watching him intently and he smiles in welcome and puts down his tools.

                He’s only making horseshoes for the local farrier and the souvenir shop. While he can shoe horses, he prefers far more artistic pursuits. However shoeing horses is what opened the doors. The farrier visiting his parents ranch showing him how to do it, and then taking Jake with him one weekend to show him how to make the horseshoes. He’d found it fascinating. Has always found fire fascinating and now he gets to work and play with it as much as he wants. Right now though he has to go and make nice with a visitor.

                “Hi. Can I help you?”

                “Uh. No. Just… thinking of coming back with my kids. Uh. Students. I don’t have kids.”

                Jake nods slowly, wonders what this guy’s problem is and looks behind him, wondering if something has caught on fire but then it clicks. The guy is flustered because of Jake and that has him turning back and doing a second sweep with his eyes, the long legs covered in denim, the long sleeved button-down but with the sleeves rolled up because while it’s winter, it’s still Texas and they’re also in a blacksmith forge and Jake is only wearing his own jeans and a tank, but he’s got a thick leather apron to protect him, along with the gloves, which he slowly pulls off and he doesn’t miss the way the guys eyes track the movement.

                “Name’s Jake Sersin,” Jake says, holding his hand out. “What age do you teach?”

                “High school. History,” the guy provides and he shakes Jake’s hand.

                “Cool. You scoping it out to bring them to the village?”

                “Yeah. One of the other teachers recommended it actually, seeing as I’m new to the area. I’m just a little worried that most of the kids will have been here before, what I can get them to consider…”

                Jake thinks he’d have likely enjoyed History a damn sight more if his teacher had looked like this, because Mrs Watson was probably a lovely person, but she should have also probably retired ten years before Jake started high school.

                “What high school?”

                “Johnson High?”

                “No shit? Really? My old school… my history teacher was Mrs Watson.”

                “Yeah, she retired. I’m her replacement.”

                “Like… recently?”

                “Yeah. I’ve only been here since August.”

                “Holy shit, I thought she was old when I was there…” Jake muses and the hot history teacher is looking amused. “Well, anyway, welcome to Texas I guess…”

                “Thanks. I’ll let you go back to your, uh, work…”

                Then he’s kind of fumbling an awkward step backwards, not that there is anything to trip on, waving a hand in an awkward half-wave and he’s gone before Jake can say wait, or ask him out, so he just has to hope he’ll be back. And if Jake has to ask him out in front of an entire class of high schoolers, then so be it.

[the-teufort-nine]

CHEMICAL BONDS | RED Chemist!Fem! Reader x RED Mercs | SNEAK PEEK

A 2000+ word preview of my upcoming TF2 x F!Reader longfic! Set in the same universe as my Respawn Malfunction Trilogy, this fic will follow the RED Chemist, from her meeting with Miss Pauling, to her life on the RED team and all the various misadventures that come from that. This fic will have a darker, more explicit rating than RM, but it will also carry some of the OG trilogy's humour and fluff. I'm very excited to work on this, and I will be uploading chapters both here, and on AO3. Now, onto the preview!

Florence Pauling was having a very bad day.

She had, somehow, slept through all six of her alarms, and thus had to rush out the door of her very small, but very secure, apartment without even getting a sip of coffee or a bite of breakfast. Then, later on, as she’d been acquainting someone who’d been planning to stick their nose where it didn’t belong with her hacksaw, and she’d clipped one of his arteries while his heart was still fighting to pump blood, which resulted in her favourite skirt getting splashed by the crimson liquid.

The trip to the laundromat had been an awkward and nerve-racking one, to say the least.

While she’d been waiting for the stain to come out, she’d been contacted by the Administrator and given a sudden, daunting task. Apparently, Redmond and Blutarch were beginning to grow bored of the relative stalemate their respective teams maintained, and they wanted to hire two new people to spice things up, each brother intending to gain an advantage over the other. Which, in reality, would never happen. The Administrator would never allow it.

So, she told her assistant that she needed to, as quickly as possible, find a suitable lunatic that was both willing to sign their soul away to Mann.CO and compatible with the awe-inspiring, somewhat terrifying machines that would end up bringing them back from the dead time and time again. That latter point was, arguably, even more important than the former, because it took a long time to clean any incompatible particles and liquefied body parts out of the system.

Please don’t ask her how she knew that.

By the end of it, she’d filled out so much paperwork and killed, dismembered, and buried so many men in shallow graves that her stiff wrists throbbed with pain every time her feet hit the ground. The only saving grace of the day was the fact that she now had enough time before she needed to go home and collapse in bed to go and visit one of the local bars. She didn’t usually indulge, but she was already developing a headache from the stress of having to track down a new applicant, so she decided that she deserved a little treat.

Pushing open the doors to the closest establishment that didn’t look like a money laundering front, she plopped herself down on one of the barstools, its cheap, cracked red faux leather flaking off onto her legs.

The bartender, a grizzled old woman with a deep scar across the length of her face and more tattoos than Florence could count, raised an uninterested brow at her.

“What can I do you for?” she asked, sounding like she’d smoked fifty packs a day.

“An Aunt Roberta.” Florence replied, folding her arms and resting her head on the bar, “And some fries. Please.”

The bartender grunted and left to go and fix her drink, yelling her fry order towards the small kitchen in the back. Loud Italian curses were hurled back, mostly crude remarks about the woman’s mother, but the purple-clad girl could hear sounds of movement and dishes being moved around, so she figured the chef was probably doing his job. After a minute or so, a glass was set down before Florence. She thanked the bartender and took a small sip. 

It was like being kicked in the throat by one of the Horses of the Apocalypse. The alcohol burned like molten lava as it slid down her throat, leaving behind a trail of simmering pain before pooling in her gut. Licking her lips, Florence tasted the tart flavour of the blackberry liquor. God, that was good.

As she nursed her drink, a man sat down on the stool next to her, placing his own drink on the bar counter. Now, in a busy bar, this wouldn’t have been very strange; people will sit wherever there is an open seat, even if it is next to a stranger. However, there were many open spots at the bar tonight, so the man’s presence instantly put Florence on edge. She wasn’t afraid, but caution and gut instinct had never failed her before, and she was getting some very bad vibes off of her sudden company.

“Well hey there, gorgeous.” the man started, leaning on one of his hands as he grinned, “Nice legs. What time do they open?”

Florence suppressed a grimace and took a quick glance in her immediate area, taking stock of every item that she could use to kill this creep if it came down to it. Or, maybe if he just kept talking. She was in a bad mood today.

Suddenly, her fries arrived, the bartender setting the food down in front of Florence as she leveled the man with a look that said ‘I’m just waiting for you to give me a reason to kick you out.’ 

The man leaned back slightly, a lock of his black, over-gelled hair falling into his face. Still, he didn’t depart. In fact, he kept trying, and failing, to flirt with the exhausted woman. She responded mostly in uninterested hums and quiet noises, trying her best to still enjoy her food despite the unwanted dinner guest that could not take a hint.

When she turned her head to crack her neck for a moment, she noticed slight movement in the corner of her eyes. Sure enough, when she looked back at her drink, she could see something fizzing and dissolving amidst the bubbles.

She took another sip, resisting the urge to gut the man when he smirked at her, assuming that she’d be defenseless soon enough. Jokes on him though; she had developed an immunity to almost every common hypnotic drug or poison. When he tried to make a move on her, she’d find a way to kill him. Discreetly, of course.

“Hey, buddy!”

Both the man and Florence looked over when a new voice rang out. A woman was leaning against the bar, sipping on what looked like a bottle of soda. She had H/C hair, bright, intelligent E/C eyes, a white turtleneck, a red leather jacket, and black bell-bottom jeans, a pair of black rubber boots acting as the final, albeit strange, part of her outfit.

“Betch’a can’t chug that drink of yours faster than I can finish mine.” she said, indicating to the man’s drink, some kind of beer, its froth having long since disappeared, “In fact, I’ll bet you five bucks that you can’t.”

There was something about the way that this woman’s eyes stayed locked on the creep’s drink that made alarm bells go off in Florence’s head. Why on Earth would someone make that kind of wager? This woman wasn’t even drunk enough to explain this strange challenge.

The man, however, did not see any red flags. All he saw was a pretty young woman offering him some easy money. “Heh, you’re on, toots!”

He grabbed his beer, chugging the golden liquid with relative ease. Meanwhile, Florence watched as the stranger drank her soda at a much slower pace. They made eye contact, and the other woman winked, confirming Florence’s suspicions that she had done something. But what exactly had she done? And why?

The sound of a glass being slammed down drew the raven out of her musings, startling her slightly. The man laughed as the woman shrugged and retrieved the promised currency. 

“Hey, y’know, if you wanna keep yer money, I can think of another way for you to pay me.” he offered, opening his legs slightly and raising a brow, grinning lecherously. 

“I’ll pass.” the woman replied, “Besides, I’ve got a feeling I’ll be getting it back soon.”

The man’s brows furrowed in confusion. In the bar behind them, a few sleepy patrons finally seemed to notice the woman’s presence, and, one by one, they filed out of the bar, the last one even stopping to flip the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED.’ The bartender wiped the counter, occasionally glancing over. Florence shifted uncomfortably, the feeling worsening when her attempted date-rapist suddenly clutched at his stomach, quickly sliding off the stool and rushing to the bathroom. The strange woman took a long sip of her drink before setting it down gently, her gaze sliding over to meet Florence’s. 

“You should probably go.” she said, pointing towards the door, “Don’t worry about him; he won’t be bothering you anymore. Or, anyone, really.”

The woman snickered, like she’d just told Florence a pun or bad joke. 

“What…” Florence started, looking at the woman, then the bathroom, then back at the woman, “what did you do to him?”

“You’re not from around here, are ‘ya kid?” the bartender asked, not even looking up from her cleaning, “Listen, just go home, and, if you know what’s good for you, keep yer trap shut. You don’t wanna stick around for what comes next.”

Florence sat up straighter.

“Actually, I think I do.” she replied, folding her hands in front of her.

The bartender and the woman exchanged surprised looks, before the woman tilted her head towards where the man had run off to.

“Alright, foxy mama! Just follow me, and try to keep your lunch. Gunnhild over there always sticks me on vomit cleaning duty, and I hate it.” the stranger said, before walking off towards the bathroom.

“You clean worse things than vomit, amlóði.” the bartender muttered, her last word sounding incredibly strange when pronounced by her raspy, New Mexican voice.

Florence was led over to the men’s bathroom. The stranger held her arm out at the door, motioning for the raven to stop. Opening the door with her foot, the woman slowly revealed the bathroom’s contents, and the sight made Florence gasp and take a few steps backwards. 

She had been expecting to find the man unconscious, or perhaps simply dead. Instead, she saw him writhing on the ground, partially strewn across a large metal grate. His midsection was a bubbling, sizzling mess; melted organs, flesh, and partially dissolved bone dripping down the man’s sides, either pooling around him or falling into the grate. His mouth foamed with blood, his lips having since burned away, exposing red gums and corroding teeth. Parts of his throat looked like a burning film reel, spurts of blood bubbling up and out of the ever expanding holes.

“Not a pretty sight, is it?” the woman asked, leaning over, “I mean, I like it; he was a creep and he’s getting exactly what he deserves, and I’ve dealt with a lot of, like, pedophiles or rapists this way, but I know that isn’t exactly normal-”

“Do you want a job?” 

The two women stared at each other for a long moment, the silence broken only by the sounds of the man dying at their feet.

“Uh,” the stranger blinked dumbly, “I’m sorry?”

“A job.” Florence repeated, reaching into her coat to retrieve the application forms she always carried with her, just in case. She hadn’t been planning on interviewing a woman, especially since all of the other mercenaries were, well, men, but the opportunity to get such a gruelling task over with tonight was too good to pass up, “One that will let you do stuff like… well, like that, for more money than you can imagine.”

She handed the woman an application form, watching patiently as she read it over. She leaned against the bathroom wall, taking in the many, many words, her eyes widening when she finally came across the part that talked about the income she’d be receiving. 

“$5000 a month?” the stranger gaped, her jaw dropping.

“Well, that’s the starting wage.” Florence explained, “If we like you, and you’re kept on, then you’ll get a pay increase every year. Plus, you can take on contracts to earn extra income.”

The woman stared at her, dumbfounded, before looking at the papers again. She scanned every line, looking for where the catch must be. Of course, she wouldn’t find it; the real fine print was printed in invisible ink, but Florence could respect the fact that she actually read the offer. Most of the men she hired had barely even glanced at the papers before signing.

“Well shit,” the stranger laughed, lowering the papers, “5k a month to kill some guys in matching blue outfits? I’d have to be crazy to pass that up. Or… maybe I’d be crazy to accept… eh, fuck it, let’s do it!”

“Great!” Florence chirped, handing the woman a pen to sign her name on the dotted line. She watched as the words were scrawled onto the page. F/N L/N, Mann.Co’s newest mercenary.

[rowan-ashtree]

Keeper of Earth

this is a gift for @riseandfallofsecunit because they drew my OCs (look at them!!!), written about someone in my OC world getting some Elemental magic (explanation of magic system here. i think that's all the context you need)

1.1k words, no CWs (let me know if i missed anything!)

this is my first time posting something set in this world - I'd love to post more if people are interested :)

🌱⚡🌊🔥☀️🌑 | 🌑☀️🔥🌊⚡🌱

You've been guarding the Vessel of Earth for a number of years now.

It's not as cool as you'd originally thought.

Not the Vessel. That thing — a circlet of vines that bloom with gemstones rather than flowers — is extremely cool.

Guarding it is what's boring.

Oh, you know it's an important job. You take the responsibility very seriously. You just thought it'd be more… exciting?

Nevertheless, you do what the Keepers’ Guild asked of you: check on the Vessel and update its History each day, stay mostly isolated, move around often, and grow a garden wherever you live.

The garden doesn't need to be anything special, they'd told you. Just something that shows the Element that you care. So you plant whatever's in season, wherever you happen to be. Currently, it's tomatoes and bell peppers, plus various herbs and flowers.

You're kneeling in the garden now, gently untangling weeds from the soil to be transplanted away from your vegetables. One annoying thing about keeping the core of all nature magic in your toolshed: it feeds all life. It doesn't make growing a garden any less work.

The small toolshed sits nearby to the garden. You've gotten better at not glancing at it every three seconds just to make sure it's still locked, though you learned quickly that the vines growing on the walls and roof need to be checked on and pruned frequently, or else they'll slowly dismantle the shed in their hunt for the magic they can sense within.

It also attracts animals, which you'd been warned about, but not prepared for emotionally. One day, you'd walked outside to see a large wildcat napping by the shed, and you'd made a strangled gasp-scream that had woken the cat. It had stirred, looked at you, then gone back to sleep.

Okay, so it was kind of a cool job.

(Still not very exciting, though. Not in the ways you'd hoped.)

You gather your tools and the small bundle of uprooted plants, and move to the second garden plot, the one where you put the weeds. Many of them are hardy enough that you just sprinkle them across the ground. A few of them, you take the time to re-plant.

Very early on, you learned that the Element of Earth doesn't appreciate needless death. It encourages the natural cycle of things, of life, death, decay, and rebirth, but the weeds in your garden have as much right to live as the vegetables you plant. So you simply relocate them, to show the Element that you care. (And so they don't strangle your basil.)

Standing up again, you wipe your hands on your pants — you gave up on keeping them free of dirt stains a long time ago — and move towards the shed to put away your tools.

When you unlock and open the door, the gentle multicolored glow of the Vessel’s gemstones spills out. You block as much of it as you can with your body and quickly shut the door behind you, even though you know there's no one around. Call it paranoia, but old habits die hard.

As you hang up your tools (yes, the shed houses incredibly powerful magic, but it's still a toolshed), you notice that the light seems greener than usual. You look closer at the Vessel. It hangs on a nail like a celebratory wreath, about the size of a woven flower crown. One of the smaller precious stones, the one that's usually colorless and crystalline, is now a deep, bright green.

Carefully (always carefully, though the Vessel has never harmed you), you reach up to touch the green stone — but before you do, it falls off the vine and into your palm.

You flinch and gasp and close your fist around it. In all the years you've guarded the Vessel, through all the places you've lived, this has never happened before.

You open your hand slowly. The bright green glow is pulsing now. Starting to panic, you think back to what the Guild told you — was there anything about the stones falling out? Have you been doing something wrong this whole time? Oh, stars and smoke, did you somehow manage to break the Vessel?

Trembling, you reach with your free hand to touch the other gemstones, even going so far as to gingerly wiggle one like you would a loose tooth, but they all seem as secure as they've ever been. You try to remember the History, if any previous guardian recorded something similar to this.

You're staring into the gemstone, flashing greener and brighter and faster, when you realize you're spiraling. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then another, letting out the tension in your body with each exhale. Freaking out won't help anything, as you're well aware, so you try to let go of the panic, then open your eyes to try again.

The gem’s light still pulses on your palm, but you realize something — it's pulsing to the beat of your heart.

Huh.

Well, it is nature magic, and you're definitely part of nature. Is it trying to tell you something?

You take several more deep breaths, feeling your heartbeat slow, and watching as the gem's flashes slow to match.

Panic fades, replaced by curiosity. You try to project that feeling out, unsure of what to do but ready to receive what the Element wants to give.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, the gem glows brighter, and brighter, still matching your heartbeat — then disappears.

You have a split second to be confused — until you feel something blooming in your heart, your limbs, your mind. For a moment, you're acutely aware of the world around you: the fungi in the shed, the vines surrounding it, the beetles under the grass and the bedrock far below. Most of all, the Vessel, still glowing softly, now missing a gemstone. You've always known the whole world is alive (how could it not be?), but it's more than that. It's gloriously bright, it's overflowing with energy. With all this life around you, it's no wonder the Vessel glows.

Slowly, gently, the awareness fades, but you still feel awash with the beautiful warmth of your Element.

… your Element?

You open your eyes (you aren't sure when you closed them). The dim toolshed looks the same, but you feel different. You look at the Vessel again — note the missing gem, the mild glow, the hardy vines. You reach up, touch the empty socket, and realization blossoms.

The Vessel of Earth has gifted you magic.

It's not your Element, really. It doesn't belong to you (nor does it belong to anyone), but you are a part of it, now.

You realize you're leaning against the wall for support. There's a new, tiny crystal already growing in the Vessel's empty spot. You look down at yourself. You look no different from before, but inside…

Well. Your wish for more excitement seems to have come true.

[plotholes-and-spellingerrors]

I think the thing is that, fundamentally, there's no such thing as running an "AI" locally. (I'm assuming that when you say "AI" you're referring to the "generative" models where a user makes a natural-language request, e.g. "re-organize my business", and the model outputs an org chart or something.) The problem is that these models require so much compute that you basically cannot run them on a personal computer. If you saw that post going around talking about Windows quietly turning on constant system snapshots to run it's AI assistant, the article pointed out that some features were only available on machines with specially beefed-up processors and memory, and even then, internet connectivity was vital because it was sending data back to Microsoft to be processed - that was part of the privacy/security risk, that images potentially displaying passwords, etc., were being stored on Microsoft servers. The point being, you need massive server farms to ingest, store, and analyze the data that these models are being built on - and it never ends, or the model becomes stale. And even once you have the model, calculating a response is also incredibly resource intensive. That's why every single Google AI result takes so much more water and electricity than the entirety of the actual search results combined.

I have shared the link before, but I am begging people to listen to the "Data Vampires" miniseries from Tech Won't Save Us. They make clear very early on that the reason Microsoft, Google, and Amazon are pushing AI so much is because they are data center companies: they make money every time a service uses their data centers. And you know where ChatGPT and MidJourney results are being processed? On Microsoft and Google and Amazon's data centers. In fact, a lot of the "money" that these companies are investing into GenAI orgs is actually just donating server usage to them, to get them locked in on those servers, which will then need to be paid for. So the GenAI companies have to find a way to get people to pay for AI services, because they're paying for AI compute power.

The other thing, and I cannot stress this enough, is that these are not knowledge models. They are very sophisticated duplication models. If you say to the "AI", "Make my workflow simpler", it doesn't have a semantic understanding of what "simpler" means (and it certainly can't ask for clarification). All it can do is look at its massive data set and try to predict a version of whatever it is outputting that is associated with the string of letters "simpler", based on a bunch of stuff that has previously been labeled as "simple" (or similar words). So you might get a work flow that has fewer steps, for example, but what the "AI" might not realize (because it doesn't have a concept of what any of the steps are) is that maybe it's actually added that are meaningless, maybe it's just shuffled some steps to it looks like there's fewer but actually it's just hidden a couple... or maybe it's eliminated some vital error-checking steps that 98% of the time result in nothing (it looks like a waste of time, so simplify it out) but 1.7% of the time catches something minor (oh good, that would have wasted resources to fix) and 0.3% of the time catches something mission-critical (this error could have brought us to bankruptcy/court/prison). And keep in mind, the person asking an automated system to simplify their business workflow is NOT the person who designed the workflow and knows what needs to be in there (if they were, they wouldn't need a computer to tell them how to fix it) - they're the person trying to not need to pay someone to design the workflow.

And for that matter, a lot of what happens when some "AI" system is inserted into a process is that it's still doing the same task (just at a much higher computational requirement, and potentially wrong), but it looks simpler because the human user is only clicking one button rather than five.

And look, I'm all for automating tasks that are repetitive and time-consuming for a human - that's the whole point of computers in the first place. But a truly effective and efficient replacement for human work is one that was designed by people who are intimately familiar with the required tasks and thinking deeply about how to make their jobs easier.

You know, these techbros love to make it sound like humans are just bad at making systems, computers will be so much better at it, but I think that's a lie they tell because they want to make one generic product and get everyone to buy it. That's the promise of "general artificial intelligence" - it's one system that can do everything. But what else in life works like that? Do you put your clothes and your dishes in the same washing device? Something that does a lot of things well is typically very simple. You can fry an egg and boil water in the same pan because it's a bent piece of metal sitting over heat. An espresso machine, however, will have a harder time with the egg. Good software generally focuses on doing one thing - the difference is whether that one thing is simple and can be applied to a lot of different things (Firefox renders web content, it just happens that you can have all kinds of stuff on the web) or if that one thing is extremely specific (Audacity edits music and GIMP edits images - audio and images are both data types that Firefox can show you, but can you imagine what a mess GIMPdacity would be?); the problem is that this specialization requires human effort, and these techbros do not want to PAY for human effort; the problem is that this specialization means that you have target audiences, and these techbros want to sell to a general (read: bigger) audience. And conversely, those byzantine systems that are so terrible? Often it's not because people are just dumb, it's because either the job is a very complicated one, and the system is tailored to success in that task, or because someone wanted a general system that accomplishes all kinds of things, and often what they want accomplished is METRICS so that the efficiency of the business can be micromanaged. But that's another story for another time. In short, don't ever let someone who is trying to sell you bullshit tell you the lie that you couldn't do better on your own.

Anyway, IDK if this is really even what OP meant, it's just where my mind went. If you put up with me to the end, thanks for reading.

MAN, can you imagine the clusterfuck of working at a company that’s become reliant on an AI layer between itself/its employees, and knowing how to do their jobs and use their systems and stuff? Like when that AI layer goes down, poof, you’re all hosed. And they don’t strike me as super robust…

I guess there are ways of training and running them locally, but they’re so seductive they’re definitely going to be deployed in places that aren’t up to the task of maintaining them in a sane state. Like… damn… cutting headcount in favor of relying on AI is like. A raccoon stuffing its head into a yogurt container. This is gonna be killing off organizations in a few years.

Unless AI gets good at destroying preexisting fucked up byzantine workflows and replacing them with simpler, human-friendly ones. That would be okay. But it is gonna irrevocably destroy a lot of records and botch a lot of database migrations on its way there.

[themetalmenace]

Refs, Recs & Resources

Need to be acquainted / reacquainted with the Tower? @ellis-the-lightguide can help with that!

Hunters didn't have a Vanguard for a while, but now there are several floating around! @crow-the-hunter-vanguard can usually be located in the Hangar, while @cayde-6-hunter-vanguard is adventuring on his own. Andal (@great-shot-terrible-gambler) is... somewhere.

Fellow Guardians @mantleoflight @titanicfreija and @purplegalaxy99 make for great company. And if you're looking for good eats, Tom's Diner [run by @crispy0nion] is the place to go.

Want to be added to the list? Just swing by and interact! I'm always happy to promote my fellow Lightbearers and Destiny inhabitants!

- - -

Looking for a conversation starter? Check out "Mundane Guardian Asks." (There are multiple parts!)

Need help building your own backstory? Try this character sheet:

Or this questionnaire by @newbabyfly:

Trouble with your situationship? Sort it out with an OTP [or OT3] chart.

There's also this OTP chart if you want something shorter!

Forgot the official lore? Use these links to study and thus avoid the wrath of a certain Cryptarch *coughRahoolcoughcough*.

Anything else? Just ask! :3

[alongtidesoflight]

i swear my stepdad is so illogical AND stubborn it hurts

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HIII THABK U FOR THE TRIVIA AND ASHE SONG before i take forever 2 answer those or forget here is a blank ticket to please please talk about prime defenders and their AWFUL emotional literacy and processing skills i would literally love to read that essay so much ive also been thinking about it incessantly. big eyes staring up at u.png. ok ok peace out GOODNIGHT !!!! <33

i lied actually im not going to bed im judt thinking about this ans listening to St. John on a loop now. hello catkiss.gif i forgot how youve filled me with so much joy. that cat is so fuckign cute

anyway. hi :) prime defenders huh. this is gonna be less of an essay and more of a sleepy ramble but ohhh i have so many thoughts. they all process things so differently and none of them are good at it they all need therapy so bad. ms.g where is the hero therapy why didnt you build that into w.a.t.c.h ma'am

vyncent is probably the best at actually processing things out of all of them, he just internalizes everything to the point where he wont talk about it unless hes pushed past the breaking point. vyncent is actually very.. emotionally intelligent? i want to say mature but that feels like im singling him out because hes the oldest. i just feel like because he grew up on Fauna and had to be in basically survival mode in a world full of monsters trying to kill you.. that makes a person grow up quicker than they should. i think vyncent had a good childhood and for the most part his parents took good care of him but just.. living in that world doesnt seem like it leaves room for a whole lot of expressing emotions. vyncent is good at quick analysis of a situation, but unless a problem directly interferes with the current goal he doesnt externalize it to everyone else. but bottling up his feelings and emotions just builds up pressure over time until something like the lich makes him blow up and let it all out at once, usually in a dramatic monologue format bc condi is really good at those god damn it. also they played off the fact that vyncent said all of that to the lich and then missed his attack as a funny thing but i like to think of it as. he got too overwhelmed w his emotions and lashed out too soon it made his fighting messy. vyncent is so angry and honestly after what hes been through he deserves to be !!!!

william wisp. my boy. god hes just like me fr so much so that it physically hurts sometimes. anyway. i always think back to the scene where theyre all in the cabin talking about themselves/sharing backstories and william keeps desperately trying not to talk about himself. the fact that hes so ashamed of his powers he hides wisp form every time. two of his powers are LITERALLY a) turning invisible and b) turning intangible, usually as an excuse to leave whatever situation hes in ("accidentally" falling through the floor at opportune moments in season 1) . theres. a thing that happens at the end of episode 13/beginning of epidode 14 that youre really close to and i wont spoil yet but god it has to do with this so extremely much please come back to my inbox when you get there. youll know what it is trust me. um. yeah. so anyway. i think a lot of this comes from a place of. he doesnt want anyone to be scared of him. williams not stupid hes incredibly smart and insightful he knows his powers are objectively SCARY. hes scared of himself constantly, he doesnt want anyone else to feel that way about him, so he shifts focus whenever those aspects of himself are brought up because if someone were to think about it for any amount of time theyd realize the truth that hes scary and dangerous to be around (<< william logic. hey remember how one of the reasons he originally left deadwood was because the monsters there were attracted to the wisps and therefore Him so he left to keep his friends/family out of danger)

i think a lot about williams death and the immediate aftermath, i dont know how much you actually know and how much of this comes later but . how does he go home after waking up from that. his parents know about his powers, so they MUST know what happened. what do you think he told them when he god home muddy and dirty and broken and probably bloody after being missing for. god knows how long. how does he look his mother in the eyes and tell her her little boy is dead. but hes also not because hes standing right in front of her. how the fuck do you think he felt the first time he went into wisp form and saw his body laying there !!! of course he wouldnt want to talk about that!!!! youre gonna have to pry william wisps emotions from his cold dead hands !!!!!!!

dakota's response to the ashe situation was to run away in the woods and do nothing but train for 10 months. he didnt think about it for 10 months. i dont even have a whole lot to say about dakota other than like. stunned silence whenever his inability to process trauma is brought up because grizzly does such an incredible job at being like "you ask dakota how hes doing and his face is just blank" << paraphrased actual quote from an episode i cannot remember which one. either 11 or 12 ?

also because im thinking about him im including ashe in this. we didnt get to see a whole lot of his canon reactions to extreme emotional situations so a lot of this is just coming from My Mind but ashe seems like hed be the type to repress a lot of his emotions too. being alone in your house/in your room for extended periods of time will do that to a guy. i think he feels a lot of things and will probably very openly cry/scream/get angry when hes alone but as soon as he knows another person is there he can immediately flip the switch to turn it all off like nothing happened. very much a deadpan "im fine." if someone asks how hes doing, even if hes got like. the remainder of tear tracks down his face. cannot physically express his emotions in the presence of someone else

[edge-oftheworld]

when I was in high school there was a tendency whenever there was an attractive boy to simply fan over him. in a way that talked over everything he might say for himself and created a narrative that completely ignored, the fact in some cases, that he was really struggling—or if he was struggling, to pin all the blame on the girl he’s dating and completely ignore the thousands of other factors (no it can’t be mental illness or unaccommodated disability or systemic abuse or exploitation and if he is in an abusive relationship we won’t ever consider the factors that put him at risk for that)

and I’m not saying this fandom is like that. I get the need for privacy around some things and how in public conversations sometimes it’s a lot more respectful to stick to the positives (everyone who does that, I admire you) or even the struggles that are talked about publicly, show respect by not reading too far into them. there’s a time and place for that. but sometimes I feel like our only options are shitty and ableist gossip or totally ignoring the systemic and structural issues we know exist in something like the music industry until someone dies and then we’re looking for someone to blame. friends, there is a point where the respectful thing is to listen to what someone says and come together to make things better. and you can learn how to have that conversation respectfully. please do

[phagodyke]

yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...