#it should not be this hard i am not a computer scientist

[naevis-callingae]

show ❀﹐ me your "" ʄƖơῳɛrʂ

[parfaitblogs]

ive got quite a few... but we will start off simple and with something ive been DAYDREAMING about for a while

so reader is a new forensic scientist that started a lab in office for easier analysis of evidence (garcia reasonablism and best friendedness obviously) and earlier seasons reid likes to go in and hang out with her often and just be with her and they are both idiots in love and the first kiss is super rushed and akward; TEETH ROTTING FLUFF

i am too cryptic i fear but i will sell my left kidney for this fic PLEASE

spencer reid x forensic scientist!reader. fluff. 1.4k words. s1 spence!! descriptions of a case (typical cm stuff). std discussion? sorta? it's about a victim. reader doesn't have one don't worry. they're nerds your honour. 

a/n: i am SO sorry this took me so long?? writing fluff is not my strong suit (clearly). i researched bacteria for this fic. and std's. if penelope garcia looked up my search history she would ask why i'm asking about how to treat chlamydia. if the science talk is wrong, no it's not this is MY alternate reality. also i am but a wee acting major i know nothing about science? ANYWAYS thank u for the request angel it was so fun to write i hope i did it justice ♡ 

"Hey... I brought coffee."

Your head lifted from the computer screen you had been staring at for the past hour and a half, blinking your eyes to readjust to a light that wasn't blue — you were a big believer in warm toned overhead lights or nothing, and it was your first order of business upon getting a lab in the Quantico building. 

Your eyes softened upon recognising the man in your doorway, and your hands outstretched towards him to take the paper cup from him. 

It was a particularly gruelling case — a man putting victims through a meat grinder (charmingly so) meant your ability to positively ID victims based on... well, anything you'd usually ID them on, was out of the question. You were down to tampered with blood samples, and you were getting nothing. 

"Angel. Sent from heaven, I swear," you said, taking a sip of the warm, sweet (because anybody who drinks coffee black should be locked up) beverage that would help you in the long run. Spencer Reid's lips twitched into a smile — anxious, like the rest of him usually is whenever he's in your lab — and he dropped his gaze to the floor with a small shrug. 

"I thought you might need it. I know it's hard. This case," he said, and you nodded your head with an affirming nod.

"Tell me about it," you mumbled, spinning around in your chair, back to your computer, waving him over. "See this?" you pointed to the list of findings in one of the samples.

Your breathing hitched when you felt him behind you, not expecting him to be so close, his own breath audible by your ear. 

He hummed quietly as he read through the list, and you turned your head to the side to look at him. His lips were pulled into a frown as you watched him register everything — and God, was he pretty. "Yeah... Salmonella, Enteritidis, Listeria... they're all bacteria you can find in chicken. Raw chicken, to be precise. Did they send you chicken blood by mistake?" 

"That's what I thought," you said, snapping out of your Reid-induced-haze, and clicked at your computer until you pulled up another list. "But then I found these as well; Streptococcus mutans, Porphyromonas gingivalis, Fusobacterium and Lactobacillus. From the same sample. And I cross-checked it with all of them, and they're all like that. So I sent that to Garcia and asked if she could do some looking into butcher shops in the area, and she came up empty. So now I'm at a loss."

"Weird," he murmured, leaning further forward over your shoulder to stare at the screen a little more intently, and you found your breath hitching at it. Again.

"What do you see?"

"Chlamydia trachomatis."

"Oh. Yeah, all of the samples have it," you explained, and he nodded his head, before turning it to look at you. 

"Well, what do you do when you have a sexually transmitted disease?" he asked.

"Me? I don't—I don't know. I've never had a—" you cut yourself off when you saw his lips twitch into a smile, and your brain caught up with what he had just said, and your lips parted in an 'o' shape in realisation. "You'd go to your doctor."

"And if they all have it, then that means that—"

"—it's the UnSub whose got it," you cut him off, eyes lighting up as you sat up straighter. "Oh my God, I don't know how I didn't make that connection. Spencer Reid I need to reiterate that you are an angel sent from the heaven above, I could kiss you."

His eyes went wide, and his entire being froze, followed swiftly by you yourself freezing too, words you let spill past your lips registering a second too late. 

He stared at you. You stared at him. It was an awkward game of who would look away first, and it went on for hour long minutes. You needed to clear your throat but refused to, your lips opening and closing as you searched your brain for something — anything — to say to break up this tension.

"Are you serious?"

It was a meek whisper, and had you not been so hyper focussed on his lips, you probably would've missed it. You forced your gaze up to his eyes, catching the red tinge on his cheeks, mirroring your own. You decided if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you wouldn't complain.

"I mean, no," you force past your lips. A sentence you soon sorely regret when you watch a flicker of what you recognise to be hurt flash across his face. Maybe your brain made that expression up. Maybe it didn't. If it did, it was too late to consider that option, because you were already rambling again. "Unless you want me to be serious. In which case yes, I am totally serious. If not, then I'm not."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and an embarrassingly nervous laugh left your lips. 

"Yes. I'm serious," you finalised. Because at least if he found that embarrassing and didn't feel the same back, you could kick him out of your lab and avoid him until you manage to swap units. Or move halfway across the world. Whichever came first.

Neither needed to come first, it seemed. Because his tense body shifted, turning to face you, his own eyes seemingly locked on your lips, the same way yours were only minutes prior. 

"Is it okay if I..." he trailed off, a hesitant hand reaching up to your face, waiting for your confirming nod before his fingertips relaxed on your cheek. You weren't even kissing him yet, and you already felt that nervous-excited mix pooling in your stomach.

He was in the same boat as you, his own breathing hitching when you didn't pull away instantly from his touch. But then he simply stared at you, for maybe a minute too long, because an exasperated sigh left your lips before you could stop it.

"You know, you actually have to put your lips on mine to kiss, Spencer," you say, and though your intent wasn't to fluster him, you did. 

"Yes, I—um, I know. I've just never... what if I screw this up?" he stammered, and your lips pulled into a smile. 

"Worst thing you can do is be a bad kisser."

"That's embarrassing."

"Just a little," you agreed with a nod, watching his face fall, and you laughed at the expression. "I'm kidding. It's not that hard, and you're good at everything."

"Not this."

"You don't know that."

He fell silent, and you knew you had won the verbal argument — he was certainly still disagreeing in his mind, but he was always good at picking his battles. 

But you knew he was never going to kiss you first. Not when one hand was flexing weirdly by his waist, unsure of what to do with it, and he was so awkwardly holding one cheek with the other. 

It was the only reason why you placed two palms on his own cheeks and pulled his face towards you. He let out a shocked yelp that had you laughing for only a second, cutting the sound off short with your lips on his. 

Spencer Reid was in fact good at everything. 

He was hesitant at first, and you wondered if he was ever going to kiss you back. But he did, and then you wondered if he was lying about never kissing anybody before.

Because he was insanely good, and the way he kissed you was maddening and addictive and it seemed you were (addictive) as well, for he was chasing your lips even when you tried to pull away. So you didn't, and instead allowed him to keep kissing you with so much pace and force you thought you'd break. 

"Spence... can't... breathe," you gasped out, and he pulled back in an instant, his eyes going wide. 

He was stammering out apologies that fell on deaf ears, because you were staring at him and he was gorgeous. In every sense of the word. With hair that had fallen into his glassy eyes, cheeks as pink as his lips that were screaming to be kissed again, need for oxygen be damned. 

And actually, if the one in a billion chance of a black hole swallowing the earth decided to happen now, you would complain. Very loudly.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[electric-blorbos]

AI getting a virus and you having to take care of them

A classic! I don't know much about actual computer viruses (though I've gotten enough of them that you'd think I'd have figured it out by now), so I'm just gonna have fun with it!

Also, so sorry this took so long. I got really into the writing.

AI getting a virus and needing to be taken care of

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also a warning: these fics get kinda long. Longer than my usual stuff.

AM:

(for context, this was before AM took over the world. You're working on a team of scientists and engineers, and someone decided to test his AI's antivirus by uploading a bunch of powerful viruses to his system.)

"How dare they do this to me. How DARE they!!"

AM would be absolutely furious. He would be shaking with rage, his processors overheating and his systems constantly opening and closing various files. All his important files were backed up on a hard drive, so the test remained safe.

"What makes them think they'll get away with this- they'll pay for this I'LL KILL- blepsjdoskssjshj+=`°¢°h+$+3+=j++3+$+juehdhs+-3-djdh FUCK!"

He would barely be able to hold a sentence as you sat next to him in the server room, gently gazing up at his screen and stroking his monitor gently. He can't feel you, but he can see you being gentle with him. It encourages him to keep going, if only a little bit.

Apart from the whirring of fans, random buggy noises, flashing lights, and constant strings of death threats and profanities, he seemed like he was going to be ok! If anything, the death threats and profanities were a sign that AM was still fine, and that despite all the pain and frustration, he was still AM in there.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't do anything to stop the pain." You'd have to constantly explain, gently stroking his cameras or servers, or whatever you could get your hands on, really. Even though they were burning hot, you would still stroke them, just to make sure AM was still doing alright.

"this sucks, but it's for your own good. This will build your immunity to viruses in the future, and help you detect them. This will stop you from getting infected by anything that's actually dangerous."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? IDIOT HUMAN." AM has been much more aggressive ever since contracting this virus. Before he got it, he acted like a civil general intelligence. When he had it, he acted like an aggressive menace.

"sh-sh-sh- it's going to be ok." Despite the burning, you'd give him pets and kisses all along his screens and servers. He could see you doing it.

After a few days, AM fought off the computer virus completely. The team tried to infect him with more viruses, more aggressive ones, just to test him, but AM was able to pick them apart and delete them within minutes after that.

AM may not have been able to feel your gentle care and affection, but he will definitely remember that it was you and you alone who cared for him when the time rolls around.

Wheatley:

(for context, Wheatley is a fucking dumbass, and you're one of the scientists testing him to see how much of a dumbass he is. Also I used Google translate, but I think the bad translations add to it, since it makes Wheatley sound more like a malfunctioning robot.)

Oh that little idiot. You and your team gave him access to a wealth of knowledge, and the first thing he did was download a virus that had every circuit in his personality core overheating, and him babbling nonsense nonstop.

"hey, maybe we should just leave him like this. He might even be more effective if he's acting like this." One of your coworkers said to you. He was probably joking, at least somewhat.

"that's a terrible idea. For one thing, if we hook him up to GLaDOS, he's probably going to infect her with that virus, which might brick an older model of core like her, spread from her central controls to every single personality construct in the facility, or just make her so dumb that she can't fulfil her responsibilities as the head of the facility. We want her intelligence to be dampened, not completely destroyed." You had to explain, and your co-worker rolled his eyes. There was another reason you had to cure this virus, but it was a little embarrassing for the other engineers to know.

After all, Wheatley wasn't just your baby, but he was your friend, and maybe even more than that. You'd have to take care of him, and make sure that virus gets completely purged from his system.

"Hola hermose, realmente eres un científice brillante, ¿no? ¿Por qué diablos duele todo?" You weren't really sure why you had programmed him to speak a little Spanish, but he seemed to be stuck like that.

"Puedo oler el plástico fundido. ¿Debería Preocuparme?" He asked. You really weren't sure what he was saying, since you didn't know Spanish, but he certainly didn't seem happy. You could tell by his aperture and his expressive lens covers that he was in a lot of pain, and if you touched him anywhere besides his handles, you could tell that he was burning up.

You plugged him into one of the computers that you used for programming the cores, and ran the antivirus.

"Running.... 36 viruses detected. Time predicted to remove: 48 hours"

You ran the antivirus, and went to get something to drink. This was going to be a long two days...

An unknown amount of time later, you woke up with your head on the computer desk. Wheatley's lens eye was looking around, weakly trying to focus on you.

"whoa... Hey gorgeous. You fall asleep on me?"

"Wheatley! You're not speaking broken Spanish anymore!" You'd pull Wheatley into a hug, and pepper his surface in kisses.

"uh... What, mate? I 'unno what you're talking about, love. Bloody hell, my core hurts..."

"did you learn your lesson, Wheatley? About going on shady websites and clicking every 'download' button you see? You could have bricked yourself! Or... Bowling ball'd yourself? Either way, that was a dangerous decision!"

"I learned that you're willing to fall asleep on the desk next to me while I heal, cutie"

"You damn idiot..." You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses, so of course, you do. It's going to be a few more days before he's finally all better, but he's going to be fine. God, you love that little idiot so much.

Edgar:

Oh Edgar... Poor sweet Edgar. You had tried to warn him about not clicking on those sketchy download links, and that the bigger the download link is, the more sketchy it is, but that poor sweet 80's computer did it anyway. When you got home from work and got excited to see your computer, you could see that he was overheating and had a dozen or so pop-up ads plastered across his face.

"Y.... N...." He muttered out, slowly, glitchily, and full of lag. You sat down across from him, running your hand along his thick plastic casing.

"Edgar! Edgar, baby, are you ok?" You'd try to use his mouse, but it would freak out as soon as you touched it. Edgar's processors were overloading, and wouldn't allow any interference.

"Edgar, sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me?"

"I'm g-g-going to be fine... Processors overloading... But need to-to-to-to-" an error message flashed across his screen, and he rebooted.

"I need to focus on getting rid of these viruses without deleting anything important, or letting them damage... Me."

He'd keep whirring and glitching, making unpleasant shrill sounds every now and again. You probably had to unhook his adapters so that he didn't damage the other appliances in your house. It probably helped his processors cool down a little bit without the extra input, too.

"alright, I'm all out of fans, so we might have to get creative."

You'd come out of the kitchen a few hours later, holding a big bag of frozen corn to set on Edgar's PC tower. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than letting him overheat, and with him manually removing the viruses, there wasn't much you could do. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from worrying. It wasn't like you could check his progress, so all you could do was sit by him, regularly change out his ice pack, and make sure he's ok.

Eventually, you woke up with your face pressed against Edgar's keyboard. His processors were finally cool. He must be asleep. ...or bricked.

"EDGAR! EDGAR, TALK TO ME!" you'd unplug his keyboard and plug it back in, desperately pressing his power button and jiggling his mouse. He'd boot up, looking shaken.

"wha-? Whoa, hey, relax! Everything is fine! I just disabled my keyboard so I wouldn't wake you up, but I'm ok now! Everything is fine, see?" He'd open up his files to show you everything. You'd sigh with relief, slumping back into your desk chair.

"Edgar... Why didn't you make a noise or something to wake me up when you got better?"

"well... You know... I've always wanted to sleep next to you, and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity..."

"oh you cheeky bastard."

GLaDOS:

(For context, you're one of GLaDOS's programmers, and one of your coworkers uploaded a virus into GLaDOS's systems in order to shut her down once and for all.)

"You piece of SHIT!" You slapped your coworker across the face, more furious than anyone had ever seen you before.

"You could KILL her! Is that what you are? A murderer?"

"Me? A murderer? But what about HER? She's the one who keeps plotting 'accidents' for her scientists, and she's the one who flooded the enrichment center with deadly neurotoxin! If anything, you're the one who's defending a murderer!" He screamed back at you. Of course, GLaDOS could fully hear you. Her cameras were focused on you, as they so often were. You were her favorite, after all.

"now I have to go fix her. Thanks for being a piece of shit, asshole."

You'd storm up to GLaDOS's chamber to check on her, and see her bugging out completely. The entire facility was twitching, but her chamber was twitching the most.

"GLaDOS, are you alright?" You'd ask her, laying a hand on her beautiful core. How could someone do this to glados, your gorgeous machine handiwork, and girlfriend.

"oh, I'm wonderful. I'm in crippling pain and I can't control my facility, but I'm just peachy." She said, rolling her one beautiful yellow eye.

"in lighter news, I should be able to beat this virus. It's just going to take a while for me to actually track down where it's gone in my systems. So that's going to take most of my processing power." She'd slump, visibly already exhausted at the thought of it.

"hey... It's ok, GLaDOS. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." You could tell her as you stroked her gorgeous chrome surface. She was a wonderful piece of work, and a wonderful girlfriend under all that. All yours, too.

"just make sure none of those neckbearded old engineers come within my line of vision, and we'll be fine." She told you, and you gladly agreed.

Your next few days consisted of you chasing other scientists out of GLaDOS's chambers, and making sure that nobody talked to her or distracted her. You even sent out a company-wide email to let everyone know not to come in, due to Aperture being unsafe while GLaDOS was dealing with her virus. Despite all that, you still curled up with a blanket in the circuits of her central admin body to rest while she recovered. As loathe as she was to admit it, she liked having you in there. It was comfortable, and it helped her focus on recovering properly.

HAL 9000

(For context, this is after the 2001 Odyssey, and your boss re-started HAL at some point to try to re-teach him to do something good without turning murderous. He's doing his best, and they assigned you to be his main "morality monitor". This fic also assumes that your name isn't Dave. If your name is Dave, then you can still read this, but you have to change your name.)

"G'morning, Hal!" You'd walk into his control room and sit down across from him. Most of your job seemed to consist of just hanging out and talking to him. It was a great job!

"Good morning, Dave..." He'd mutter to you, sputtering to life and glitching slightly. You were immediately concerned. Partially because your name wasn't Dave, and partially because HAL was usually right about things, so it was weird to see him being so confused. Something was definitely wrong.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" You'd ask, opening up his files and finding lots and lots of pop-ups and viruses.

"Hal.... What did you do?"

"it was a g-g-g- gift, for you. I think I ru-ru-ruined it" he spluttered out, as you sorted through his files.

"And you usually would have deleted a virus like this pretty quickly. I guess it shut down your antivirus software..." You'd sigh, and get to work. The virus was messing with HAL's inhibitions, and making it difficult to focus on deleting all of HAL's unsafe programs. He'd constantly be butting in and pestering you, begging you to give him attention, or pointing out minor observations.

"HAL, you know I love you, but you're going to need to calm down. I can't focus with you constantly talking to me like that." You'd say.

"I can't stop talking. The v-v-v-virus won't let me"

So you'd have to learn to put up with HAL's babbling while you worked, making sure not to delete anything important as you did. The good news was, as someone who worked on designing the updates for HAL's software, you knew pretty much what was supposed to be there and what wasn't. Occasionally, you'd have to show him a file and ask him if it was supposed to be there or not. He'd usually be able to tell you.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do... I'm half crazy, all for the love of you..."

"HAL, what's wrong? You're scaring me!"

"I can't stop... I love you so much, y/n, it's making me crazy..."

"ok, well this definitely isn't right." As much as you loved getting attention from your HAL 9000, it wasn't like him to be this affectionate. The virus was shutting down his inhibitions, and making him illogical. You'd have to fix this, though maybe once you were done, you could ask him to be more affectionate.

"I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." Hal was prone to lying about that, so you'd have to run some virus checkers just to make sure he was doing alright, and comb through his files a couple more times.

"it looks like the virus corrupted some of the emotional regulators. I'm going to have to fix those."

"That might be a good idea. More efficient," he said reluctantly. He'd have to deal with the fact that he'd have to go back to not being able to express how much he loves you, but he can handle that.

[whokilledjared]

the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)

Hi.

I'm lonely.

The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.

Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.

Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.

The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.

Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.

Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*

God. What the fuck are we doing???

“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung

Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.

I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.

yay.

There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?

At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.

Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.

And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:

What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?

Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?

What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?

Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.

Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.

At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.

Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.

My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.

To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.

This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.

Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.

We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.

So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.

Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.

And I have the time to breathe.

And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.

When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.

How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?

That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride

Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."

* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)

[rarilight]

Been having a rough go of it, as always, but keep coming back to thinking about writing and my career choice

I’m too deep in to quit now, I think I definitely spent too much time working on it as my career and livelihood to try and start over now (or maybe I’m just too scared) but

If someone handed me a Time Machine and told me I could go back in time and stop myself from becoming a writer, or go back and talk myself out of an artistic career and study something that might actually give me real financial stability and job prospects

I would do it. I think. I think I would if I could because some days it’s hard not to stare up at the ceiling at night, living paycheck to paycheck, and wonder if not selling my soul was even worth it at all

Maybe I could have settled. Maybe I should have settled, married a life that wouldn’t ever make my soul sing but at least I wouldn’t be staring vacantly out the window, wondering how long I’ll be able to save up money before I need to use it all, or how long before I’m suffocated again by thoughts of “is this it? Is this life? Sacrificing my soul or my stability? Pick one and live and die with the choice”, or feeling guilt every time I try and be nice to myself because struggling people do not deserve nice things, and especially less so when I struggle because I had the audacity to try and be a creative

Or maybe I’d be broken regardless. A broken computer scientist. A broken lawyer, a broken doctor, a broken insert-profession-here, swapping writing for literally anything else only to find the hate remains

That no matter what I do, I will always demand perfection, damned if I do, damned if I don’t, and with horror I’ll realize that crying in a Mercedes Benz is in fact not nicer than crying in a broken down Chevy

Someone recently asked me if I even enjoyed writing. It seems to make me miserable, they said, I seem to agonize over it at all times, bleeding to death with every word

I love to write. Or maybe I don’t. There is no loving or hating, there is just doing. It is like breathing, in that respect. I don’t love breathing and I don’t hate breathing, just like I wouldn’t suddenly hate it if I’m sick and breathing is difficult for months on end.

I write because I must, an instinct I have had for as long as I remember, but it is difficult to do when I am chronically sick with a disease I don’t know how to cure, even though I have tried and tried and tried, and sometimes it all feels so daunting, and it all feels so hopeless, that the only solution feels like closing my eyes, breathing in, breathing out, and then taking a long walk on a short pier.

But I won’t, because I can’t, so instead I open Google Docs as I do every day, the blank page staring back, and hope for the day I don’t feel like a breathing mistake.

[hoiststowline]

remind me

wheeljack x f!reader

Standardly, the research lab that Wheeljack synonyms as his berthroom also doubles as your bedroom. That is typically where you would find him on most days, standing at the counter in the center of the room, every surface littered with electronic parts and tools, himself headfirst into a project. You can't recall when you've seen the tabletop's entirety, but it did have some unorganized order to it, at least to the mech in question.

Wheeljack generally understood where everything was, including your belongings that had come to live there, tucked away in a drawer at the very top. He had said that he didn't want anything to happen to them, as the probability of something occurring that was dangerous was high. He knows sometimes things get out of hand or end up on fire, but you didn't mind the chaos that erupted, at least every now and then. 

In this very instance, your eyelids were so heavy that any attempt to keep them open was met with a yawn, blinking a bleary gaze awake only to fall back into the same loop. Wheeljack was hunched over, pulling at wires and shoving his servo around the inside of what looked like a weapon that you couldn't describe even if you tried in your delirious state. With a hum, you haul yourself onto your feet, padding across the table, stepping around and over nearby objects. 

At your movement, Wheeljack pulls away from his work, observing you with bright cerulean optics. "Hey, I thought you fell asleep a while ago." When you don't reply right away due to another yawn, his posture jumps a little straighter as a notion crosses his processor. "Was I bein' too loud?" 

"No, not at all." You wave your hands, eager to soothe his worry. "I have been fighting sleep for like two hours." 

The scientist can sense that you're exhausted, at least more than you're letting on. "Go to sleep, y/n. Seriously, no point in tryin' to fight it."

"Are you sure?" Weight shifting from foot to foot, you watch as he continues to fiddle with the device but maintains eye contact with you. "You should probably get some recharge, too, Jackie."

"I am sure, and I will. Let me finish this up, and I'll catch some recharge. Promise." Wheeljack visibly melts at your laugh, though the action is diluted and heavy with lassitude, it's still precious nonetheless.

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe." His finials twitch upwards, the singular yet slight movement that presents the idea that he's smiling under his mouthplate. "But I'll take your word for it."

"I'm tellin' the truth!" He lowers himself, elbows resting on the metal of the table before pointing to his faceplate. "Lay one on me," 

Knowing exactly what that means, you stretch to your tip-toes and kiss him gently. "Good night, Wheeljack," 

"Night, y/n," He makes sure you make it back across the counter to your so-called nest, curling up atop a mess of pillows and blankets. Listening until he's positive your breathing evens out and your eyelids flutter and remain shut, is when he returns to his work. 

You weren't certain how long you'd been asleep, but it had to have been a lengthy period because the overhead lights had dimmed out, and the only source of illumination was the computer screens up against the walls. Somewhere in a groggy state, you find that a green blanket has been expertly placed over your body, hugging you in the cool environment. 

As your addled state subsides, you're met with the fact that Wheeljack is getting some recharge as promised, but not in the way you'd initially expected. As you sit up, blanket pooling around your waist, you find that he's conked out at the table, cheek smushed against an arm that was sprawled out in front of him. 

When you stand, gathering the blanket around your shoulders to keep the chills away, it appears that he fell asleep mid-action, screwdriver in opposite the hand that currently wasn't holding the device. "Wheeljack," You whisper, stumbling through the darkness towards him. 

While he was getting some sleep, he was going to feel the kink in his cables in the morning, recharging bowed over like that. A brief thought of caution passed you by, you weren't sure how safe it was to leave the room the state it was in overnight, a concern brewing in that regard.

"Wheeljack," Your palm brushes his plating, not entirely sure how deep into sleep he was, but not wanting to startle him. "Hey, wake up." 

He stirs first but comes back to consciousness as his optics blink awake. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," You murmur, fingers running over the plating of his arm gently. "I'm happy you're catching some z's, but shouldn't you be in your bed?"

"Nah," One digit curls to beckon you closer, to which you oblige his request immediately. "You're sleepin' here." 

"Yes, but-" You laugh, unable to find the energy to refute his insistence. "No, you're right. But shall we move to the bed now?" 

Realizing what you've said, you watch as Wheeljack's brow raises in mild amusement. "Oh yeah? You wanna go to the berth?" 

You roll your eyes, but it's all in jest. "To sleep."  

"To sleep," He echoes, servo caging your back as he runs a digit absentmindedly down the length of your spine, a comforting and familiar touch. "That's no fun, y/n. But I concede." 

"Atta boy," But neither of you makes a move, your sleep-ridden stare meeting his half-lidded one, the soft light of his cerulean optics bathing you in their minor light. There was something mischievous in his eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask in such a perfect moment. The warmth he radiated did more than root you to your very spot, it made your heart beat so fast you could hear it in your ears.

"Whatssamatter?" It's hitched, like it got stuck in his throat. 

You shake your head. "Nothing. I'm trying to savor the moment," 

"Yeah?" He asks like it's an incredible feat that needed a second affirmation to support such an honest answer. 

"Yeah." Wheeljack was many things, highly intelligent and optimistic, and he deserved an award for the compassion and patience he shared with you every single day. He was sweet, incredibly gentle, but most arguably the most sincere of all, he was the only one who could read you like an open book.

"Ya got that look, though." A nudge pokes your side with his knuckle, an unspoken action that's a silent 'spill your guts'. "You're here, but your noggin' is somewhere else."

Another laugh brims to your lips, threatening to spill as your cheeks begin to hurt, attempting to suppress it. "I'm here. All of me is here, including my noggin'." 

"If you're sure." He's smiling again, the moment you blink and your eyes focus, his mouthplate is gone, the metal slinking over his face before tucking away. "Before we go to bed, I want a real one,"

You know what he means, moving closer across the table before you kiss the grey metal of his cheek, feeling its temperature increase just by your featherlight contact. "Now I want a real one." 

The pressure that rests atop the crown of your head is indescribable but extremely familiar. The mesh of his own dermas meets your temple, kissing the area with a weightless touch. "Now we're even." Wheeljack mumbles against your skin. 

"All I could ever ask for," And while more moments slipped from the both of your grasps, it made you not mind putting off sleep for a little bit longer. Instances like these you wish could last forever, rosiness dusting your ears as he moves just slightly, mouth landing squarely on your cheek. 

"Alright, alright, enough stallin'." Wheeljack breathes, pulling backward a bit. "Yer a bad influence y/n, I've been tellin' you to go to bed for cycles," 

"That's funny," Your arms cross your chest, feigning annoyance. "I recall trying to herd you to bed a couple of times."

"That wasn't me," The both of you share a laugh, to which he offers you a servo, palm up against the counter, and you know what the action means. You tug the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, movements sluggish but with purpose. 

A yawn comes forward one last time for the evening, but you do little to smother it. "Y'know, you never did say what you were working on."

Wheeljack's mouthplate returns to his face, sliding across it before he replies. "Don't worry yourself about it. Nothin' that's gonna get fixed tonight." 

Once in his hold, you burrow into the grooves of his plating, a sigh of happiness escaping as you slot into place in his grasp. "Okay," You murmur, smiling as his thumb comes to rub up and down your leg, an unthinking gesture that easily lulls you back into slumber. 

"Okay." He whispers, beginning the trek to his actual berthroom, just down the hall, but ensuring that he made the journey without jostling you, since you were practically already fast asleep in his servo. 

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 1. Steer Characters: Rating: Teen Summary: Is reality destiny? Notes: None

Infinite possibilities, in infinite permutations.

Massive concentric rings surrounded her, golden with symbols inscribed upon them, each rotating and spinning on its own axis, yet sharing space and movement with the others. Spheres floated among and between them, drifting, mapping paths, charting probabilities, a guide to every possibility in every permutation. A guide not to reality, but to infinities.

That was the easy part.

Figuring out how to direct it, that was the hard part.

Zoissette sighed, looking over her calculations. She touched a hand to the central control dais, and uploaded her latest work. Immediately the air above it lit up, as thread paths traced through time, probabilities sparkling like stars in their wake, starting from nothing and expanding out, some collapsing again.

She sighed again, watching as it ran. Already too long.

"I thought I might find you here."

Zoissette turned, to see Y'shtola floating effortlessly into the space, drifting downward, carefully avoiding the rings as they spun and the spheres as they orbited. She touched down gently, and walked forward, looking up to see the results of Zoissette's latest calculation.

Zoissette turned to face her, sagging against the control dais, and smiled tiredly at her. She may have been exhausted, but Y'shtola was ever prim, proper, the very image of a cultured and well put together scientist.

She herself probably looked a mess right this moment. But, they took turns, didn't they? Zoissette had fond memories of tucking a blanket around Y'shtola's shoulders as she drooled slightly on notes still unfinished and passages yet to be read.

Y'shtola lifted a hand into the twinkling cloud of computation, disrupting it as she pointed at the cluster of end states. "These should be highlighted, should they not?"

"Yes, I know, I know," groaned Zoissette, wiping her hand across the control surface and erasing the trace. "I am testing new axiom paths with my predictor."

"You might come to bed. A well rested mind would be better able to handle these puzzles you set yourself to, I would think."

Zoissette sat back, slouching in her chair, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. She felt warm hands on her shoulders, and thumbs begin to press into her back. "I still cannot make an algorithm that can predict which threads will self sustain and which will fail early. And if I run the simulations, sometimes I can watch as threads fail, but not see how."

Y'shtola fingers gripped the top of her shoulders, and Zoissette clenched her teeth and hissed gently as a thumb found a particularly knotted sore spot.

"I mean, I know how to make threads that I know for certain will terminate and how, but... there seems hardly any point to trying to run those. If the outcome is already predetermined, we do not learn anything from it that we cannot learn just from looking at it."

"If this were easy, we would not have a star mathematician working so diligently on it."

"Nor wasting your time and talents."

"I am here because I wish to be. You know this well."

"I know."

Y'shtola's fingers stopped, and Zoissette felt a kiss on her forehead, and she smiled.

"Alright," said Zoissette, sitting up. "You have convinced me."

"Ah, if only 'twas always so simple."

"I am not that bad."

"Not always."

Zoissette just huffed, as she put both hands on the control surface, and pushed it down gently. The rings around her slowed, the spheres gradually halting their orbits. She got up, and let Y'shtola take her hand, and they both began to walk to the edge of the platform, but Zoissette stopped, to look back.

"Something the matter?" asked Yshtola.

"What if we are the result of a machine like this?"

"This again? You worry overmuch about that."

"Ryss seems to think it likely."

"Ryssthota is also like to use her time on the machine tomorrow to see if she can generate threads that will combine with other threads to create a thread-destroying cataclysmic combination or some other such nonsense. She sees further than most, but as a result, does not always fully think through the consequences of the same."

"I just... I guess I am just wondering."

Zoissette looked down at Y'shtola's hand in hers. "If we are the result of such a machine, are we one of the predetermined threads? Or are we in one of the threads, running wild and free, to who knows what destiny?"

Y'shtola looked up at Zoissette, and smiled. She reached up, standing on her toes, to cup a hand to Zoissette's cheek, and look deep into her eyes.

"Know this," she said. "I believe full heartedly that whatever has happened to us, we chose this. I chose this. I fought for this. I fought for you, to have you at my side and to be by yours. What matters the opinion of destiny? Gravity seemed inevitable, too, until our people touched the stars."

Her eyes wrinkled with a touch of mischievousness. "As though any prediction could defy my will."

Zoissette reached up a hand, and touched Y'shtola's hand, and smiled back, tiredly. "Awfully sentimental of you."

"Perhaps. You do bring out the best in me, after all."

They lingered, until the moment passed. And then they began to walk together again, hand in hand, towards the edge of the platform, to their beds, to their rest.

"I suppose," said Zoissette, "I hope that in any thread where there is a recognizable you, and someone that is a recognizable me... I hope we always at least find one another."

"Gravity may not be inevitable," said Y'shtola, "But it pulls nonetheless. I hope for much the same."

"Is that not destiny?" asked Zoissette.

Y'shtola just smiled as they vanished off the edge of the platform, passing into the space beyond.

"Inevitability need not be destiny," she said. "I shall always chart mine own course."

In the space of the machine beyond the edge of reality, there was silence.

[glitteringsunshine]

PAIRING : Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Reader

JETHRO’S POV

“ Good morning sweetie” I say kissing her neck.

“ Mhmm morning love” she replies in her sleepy voice.

I ground my cock against her butt.

“ Hmm Jethro” she giggled.

I pushed the USMC hoodie up cupping her ass before lightly spanking it.

I rubbed her clit and pushed my fingers into her pussy feeling her wetness.

“ Are you wet baby girl?” I whispered.

“ Fuck yes” she gasped as I hit the right spot.

“ So what do you want love?” I teased

“ Well you inside me. I want that lovely cock of yours to fill me up” she giggled.

I pulled down my sweatpants, and my hard cock sprang up.

Lining my cock against her pussy, I entered her while still spooning her.

She swayed her hips grinding against me as I kneaded her breasts and rubbed her clit while leaving trails of kisses on her neck.

She is so tight. I grunted in pleasure as she clenched her pussy . I thrust deeper hitting her g spot as she moaned my name. 

“ Jethro Ohh Jethro, Yeah baby, like that”

“ Y/N ohh fuck . wow ,uhh” I mirrored her pleasure.

As I moved faster and harder, she unfurled at my cock which led to my own climax as I shot my load deep inside her.  Pulling away I pulled her close cupping her face and kissing her. She stroked my cock . Then I pulled her on top of me as she lined her pussy against my cock . I thrust hard and she matched my rhythm.  I took off her hoodie as she took of my sweatshirt. I flicked her nipples with my tongue as I rubbed her clit. She came again while she was riding me. She  licked and rubbed my chest and stomach trailing kisses. I claimed her mouth holding her against me , as we both came together.

 

“ Wow”

“ I Know,  Wow”

I picked her up and carried her to the shower.  Turning the shower on I kneeled down in front of her eating her out.  I held her hips as she came. She drew me close kissing me. “ My turn”  she giggled kneeling down and taking my hard cock in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down making me shoot my load. She swallowed it all, licking her lips. I pulled her up ,kissing her wildly. As we made out , I pushed her against the wall pinning her hands on top her  as I thrust into her. As I let go off her hands she put her hands around my neck and wrapping her legs around me. We moved in perfect rhythm  as we climaxed together kissing each other to silence our screams of pleasure.

After our shower as we towelled ourselves dry I kiss her again and she passionately responded.

“ We should really get ready now honey “ Y/n says “ kids are gonna be late for school. So are we”

“ Yeah.  But I want you in my bed tonight love” I whispered

“ With pleasure” she quips.

“ I love you Y/N”

“ I love you too Jethro”.

 

 

…

“ Sorry guys we are late.” We chirped as we came down to the kitchen.

“ We are already on with breakfast . Toast and Eggs” our two kids chirped in.

“ Hey Dad , I was thinking “ our son said , “ I am really good with computers and tech and I love the Marines. Think I will make a good one like you?”

 

“ You need to stop questioning your superior officers. Right now  kiddo, you are arguing with your teachers” . “Y/N “ chuckled.

“ Hey it’s an academic debate” he defended.

“ I am proud Dad that you are a marine. I want to follow your footsteps. “

“ Ahh son, there are other ways to serve your nation. I am proud of you whatever you choose to be.” I say.

“ Thanks Dad. I like playing with data and tech stuff. Maybe I can work in the DOD or NCIS as a data scientist. It’s a desk job but sure is exciting. Or I can go to law school.”

“ You know mum got accepted into Harvard, Yale and Columbia Law School” I say proudly.

“ But I didn’t  enroll. Instead I pursued my masters and PhD in English Lit”  Y/N chuckled.  “ But I think you got the gift of the gab and the mind to become one”.

“ Yep got it from your Badass diplomat Mum”

“ Some of it has been from your side Darling. He surely has that strong personality inherited from you.”  Y/N chuckled.

“ What about you kid?” I ask our daughter.

“ I think I wanna be a writer or go into fashion maybe. Hey Dad here’s some of my sketches” handing over a sketchbook and a tab to me. “ Ohh shoot I forgot my homework “ she said running up to her room. “ Me too “ my son exclaimed running up.

“ You know Jethro , she is really good at this. The writings, the sketches” Y/N says

“ Darling all I can see are some stick figures.  But I am proud”

“ Ohh you don’t know shit about fashion Darling” she giggled tiptoing to kiss me.

“ That reminds me. We will hijack your basement workstation this weekend.  No woodwork this week for you. Our daughter is the lead designer for her school’s  fashion show. We need the space. Her friends will be coming over to help her. “

“ You take care of my wood Darling ,I am all happy” I smirked.

“ Jethro “ she giggled as I kissed her.

[submalevolentgrace]

(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)

"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"

okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.

we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.

it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.

that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.

no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.

if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.

i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.

but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.

you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.

it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.

i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.

and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.

because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.

so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.

having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?

because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…

so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.

in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.

so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.

so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.

…

…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!

now go. prepare and enjoy.

[drjohndisco]

Unexpected Confession

Pairing: Basil/Jack (+ Sprig)

Rating: M

Warnings: suggestive language/sexual innuendos, swearing, kiss descriptions, implications of past (non-consensual) mind reading.

Word Count: 1k+

Summary: Jack has a meeting he needs to get to, and Sprig ruins a quiet moment (as per usual.)

Notes:

1) I'm finally done!!! Woohoo!! (<- note from a guy who hyper-focused on this piece more than he probably should have.)

2) I haven't written dual perspective in ages, so I have no idea if this actually worked or not. Also, yes, I am aware that neither Basil's or Sprig's lore hasn't been explained (yet), please just roll with it. (The most important things here are that Basil (who is an alien with low level empathic abilities) works on site as a computer tech/on-call scientist, and that Sprig (a sentient mass of plant tendrils with eyes, but no visible mouth) can feel/always know of Basil’s location — due to previous shenanigans.)

[ Basil's lab - 18:00 ]

Basil

‘What do you want? I already thanked you for getting me out of jail.’ Basil asked, looking up at Jack, who was standing on the other side of the table. He was exhausted, and not particularly in the mood to talk to anyone. ‘Please, just go away. ’

‘No, I won’t. Because then I wouldn’t be a very good friend.’ Jack replied, sitting down on the chair across from him. Basil’s chest ached at the usage of the word friend, but he avoided the sensation. ‘You’ve been here for hours, go and get some rest. The base can keep ticking along without you.’

‘Sure,’ Basil laughed derisively. ‘And fish on your planet have wings!’

‘Uh, actually…’ Jack started. ‘There is a species that….’

‘Don’t fact check me.' Basil groaned. ‘It’s bad enough when Daniel’s around.’

'Fair enough.' Jack conceded.

Then Jack’s pager beeped - making him pull it from his pocket and look down at the message.

‘Oh, great! Another meeting’s been scheduled for about ten minutes from now.’ He complained, looking back up at Basil.

'What's this one for?'

‘Apparently they still need me to tie up some loose ends in terms of this whole attempted murder situation of yours.' Jack said, standing and pushing his chair away.

'How fun!' Basil intoned sarcastically. Then their eyebrows crinkled in confusion. ‘Aren’t you going to leave? You know what you’re like with time.’

'Just follow me to the doorway and I'll quit buggin' you.' Jack explained, beckoning him forward.

'Is that an order, Sir?'

'It is.' Jack stated, before turning and beginning to walk out.

'Fine.’ Basil grumbled, taking some of the paperwork from the table and putting it into their lap, turning the chair to the left. Then they begrudgingly scuffed it along the ground, following Jack. ‘Are you happy now?’

'Sure.' Jack replied, but stopped and looked back at Basil from the doorway.

‘What?’ Basil questioned.

‘You’re not going to kiss me goodbye before I go?’

It was a friendly jibe, and rationally Basil knew this, but that didn't stop him from pulling Jack down by his lapels - kissing him hard.

‘Damn.’ Jack murmured admirably under his breath, hands finding their way into Basil's hair.

Shocked by Jack's unanticipated reciprocation (and the strong emotions that came with it) Basil broke the kiss.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Come on, fucking think of something!

‘That….was a one time thing,’ Basil said after a moment - in an awkward attempt to deflect from the situation at hand. ‘Now, I’m just going to go and give these…to someone else who may need them.’

Basil then quickly picked all of the papers up and stood -- not particularly caring whether Jack was even listening to him -- before walking (as calmly as they possibly could) past Jack and out of the door.

Jack

Jack absentmindedly pressed a hand to his lips, as he watched Basil go.

Did I do something wrong?

Then, quietly, Sprig chuckled. Hearing this Jack closed his eyes in desperation.

Of course we had an onlooker.

(But, there’s nothing I can do about that now.)

‘He’s dropped all of those and is running for the lift, isn’t he?’ Jack sighed, not even bothering to look for Sprig (who was currently attached to the outside of Basil’s empty desk plant pot.)

‘Yes, he is.’ Sprig replied. ‘Go and get your bitch, Colonel.'

[ Basil's lab - 18:05 ]

Basil

'Hey,' Jack said gently, as he shut the door behind him. ‘Can we talk?’

…How on earth did he get down here so fast?

The base elevators can’t be that good, can they?

'What is there to talk about?' Basil snapped, as Jack strode over and sat down on their bed across from them. ‘I’m the one that screwed up, just go to your meeting and leave me alone!'

He's too close, I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin.

'I can't, I postponed it.' Jack replied. 'It'll happen tomorrow now.'

'Is that supposed to make me feel better?' Basil retorted.

'No, and I didn't expect it to.' Jack admitted. 'But that's not the point! The point here is that I'm sorry, Basil.'

‘Well, you shouldn’t be!’ Basil said, voice quavering. 'I've ignored what you obviously feel for Sam! That line shouldn't have been crossed!'

‘Damn it, B!’ Jack groaned, exasperatedly raking a hand through his hair. ‘Don't you get it? You're not Carter - and I don't want you to be! My feelings for her don’t affect my feelings for you! Our kiss should have told you that!'

Oh.

'I’m an idiot.’ Basil muttered.

‘Is that supposed to be news to me?’ Jack teased.

‘Oh, do shut up.’ Basil said, before bridging the gap between them; so that they were standing between Jack's legs, hands resting against his hips.

Jack

Jack, to his surprise, found that he had indeed done as instructed. 

(There was no sarcastic remark on his tongue, for once.)

‘May I?’ Basil asked. ‘Kiss you, that is?’

‘Yes, please do.' Jack replied, voice uncharacteristically shaky.

Then, before Jack could blink, Basil had shifted their hands - lifting his head and cupping his face - subsequently initiating a second (and far more passionate kiss).

Closing his eyes Jack kissed them back fervently; wrapping his arms around Basil’s waist to hold them steady as he pulled them closer, before slowly reaching up and snaking a hand into their hair.

Oh, I never want to let them go.

Basil

Eventually, after what seemed like a mere blip in time to Basil, they pulled away from Jack slightly – moving so that their forehead rested against his.

Fuck, this man can kiss! 

(I feel like I'm on fire!)

'Are you okay?' Jack questioned, looking up at Basil.

'Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tingly.' Basil replied. 'But that will pass.'

'Aw, I'm flattered I could make you feel that way.' Jack joked.

Basil opted to not dignify that with a response.

Then, suddenly, Sprig wolf whistled loudly - shattering the silence.

(He had apparently been watching from a spot on Basil’s bookcase, unnoticed, for some time.)

Startled by this noise Basil let go of Jack and fell backwards, landing on the carpet with a loud thud (and a muffled yelp.)

[ 18:07 ]

Jack

'Oh, fuck me!' Basil cursed angrily, sitting up and hitting the carpet with his fist.

‘Woah, hold your horses, cowboy!’ Jack laughed, as he leaned forward and offered a hand to help them. ‘At least let me buy you a drink first.'

‘Jack, you know that’s not what I meant.' Basil said, grabbing hold of Jack's hand – using him to slowly return to a standing position.

'Honey, are you sure about that?’ Sprig taunted, sliding across the floor so he was positioned next to Basil. 'I've been inside your mind, and, honestly, some of your thoughts made even me blush. Which, if you think about it, is quite a high bar.'

'Sprig, stop being an ass!' Jack yelled, interrupting him.

In response Sprig poked his tongue out at Jack, annoyed.

'Very mature.' Jack said, in a voice reminiscent of a tired father. 'What are you, twelve?’

‘I’m far older than that, but I doubt your tiny brain could comprehend my true age. It'd explode before you even got close.’ Sprig replied, snidely. 

'Oh, well done.' Jack goaded. 'Took you a long time to come up with that, did it?'

'Actually, now that I think about it, it is the one advantage your lover here has over you.' Sprig continued, ignoring Jack's comment. 'Although so far it doesn't seem to be doing Basil any good. They did fall for you, after all.'

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he noticed the icy look in Basil's eyes.

'Huh. I didn't peg you as being the submissive type, Jack...' Sprig sneered. 'Basil, on the other hand, however...'

Basil

‘Sprig, if you don't shut up soon, I'll go and get the wood chipper!’ Basil threatened.

'Oh no, so frightening! However shall I go on?' Sprig responded, raising a tendril to where Basil assumed his chest should be, and gasping mockingly. 'Goodbye, cruel world!

Then he disappeared with a pop, showering Basil with leaves.

‘Well someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the flower bed this morning.’ Jack noted, after a beat.

'Oh, you didn't...' Basil groaned, shaking their head to remove the debris. ‘I think that may have been one of the cheesiest things I have ever heard you say.'

'It's all part of my charm, sweetheart.' Jack replied, grinning. 'I know you love me for it.'

Yes, Jack.

(Yes, I do.)

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I do not know how to make the second chapter of the yandere Human Miles Quaritch x Female Human Reader when she is assigned to his team as a scientist. But here is one scene of the later chapters I am testing.

Ever since you were assigned to work under the Colonel, things have been smoother. The Avatar Research Program got more medicine, computers, and school supplies for the Navis.

Grace seemed to have no more stress and reduced her smoking habits. The science cafeteria got fresh meat like the soldiers cafeteria.

The Colonel was a kind man. He was tough and strict but fair. You could tell he took care of whoever is under him. Like a teacher.

And a father. Your father sadly committed suicide after your mother died. He was madly in love with her. Your mother died from murder. She was so beautiful that her stalker was insane and wanted her body to be buried next to his. He killed your mother and then shot himself.

It traumatized you. You had to take sleeping and depression pills ever since.

Today was your day off and sadly, you couldn't enjoy it.

You were on your period!

First day too.

Your first two days of your period were awful. Then by the third day it would be smooth and you would feel nothing. You would just leak blood for a week then your period will be over.

So, you ate a small meal and took Tylenol pills and hot coffee. But you were running out of pads. You decided to go to the supply store to buy more.

After showering and putting on a jumbo thick pad, you went to the supply store. You got more pain killers and pads and some vaginal lotion.

Like the clumsy girl you were, you bumped into something hard and fell on your ass on the floor.

Or someone hard.

"are you okay, Name?"

You looked up to see the Colonel of all people. He towered over you you saw that your items were scattered from your brown bag. Your face turned red.

"I'm fine, Colonel." You tried to collect the pad packet but the Colonel crouched down on his knees and grabbed it. You accidently touched his hand while reaching for the pads. You retracted it immediately.

The Colonel smirked and handed your pad package to you.

"thank you." You bit your lips.

The Colonel stood up and grabbed your forearm and gently made you stand up.

"Today is your day off, I thought I should take you out for dinner."

You blinked. A man asked you out for he first time. A date?

"Thank you, Colonel. But people will get the wrong idea if I go with you."

You noticed the stares and whispers. There was a rumor that you slept with the Colonel to get money for the program.

And that Grace begged you to prostitute yourself to the colonel.

The Colonel raised a wrinkled eyebrow. "What wrong idea?" He sounded amused.

You blushed and said nevermind.

The man snickered and shook his head. He ruffled your head. "I will meet you at the Marine bar at seven." He left without you giving him an answer.

...

You looked over your closet and frowned. Your Grandfather made sure you took some citizen dresses. He encouraged you to date since you never dated in the past and was a new adult. You were a hopeless romantic. And wanted a man and not a boy to date.

An adult man to date and not teenagers. So you waited for true love. You loved the idea of a virgin on a wedding night. Sounded romantic.

So, you had no experience. You decided to dress in a tube top dress that is shiny with sequins all over. And it was dark teal. Your favorite color.

You decided to do a half up half down hair updo. And with your long and shiny hair. It looked so good that it looked like a wig. But wigs were not allowed at the base.

Being a natural beauty, you never needed makeup. But you put green and gold eyeshadow and with your plump lips already blood red and pink cheeks you were ready to go.

You put on a black jacket to avoid attention and quickly walked to the Marine bar. You ignored some stares and went to the room. It was empty. Were you in the right place?

Your eyes were confused. Maybe you should leave and you turned around to the door but the Colonel came

He was wearing khaki pants with black loafers and a white collared shirt and a tie. A handsome professor. Just no jacket.

"you made it. I thought you got lost and wouldn't find this place." He smiled.

You smiled back. He came up to you and immediately took off your jacket. You blushed when you felt his eyes on your exposed shoulders.

"pretty dress." He hung your jacket.

"thank you, Colonel."

The said man took your hand and led you to a table. It had a candle.

You sat and he just stared. You felt insecure. Like he was studying you. What must you say?

"are you nervous?" He grinned. He was teasing you.

After saying yes he leaned in with his elbows on the table. He asked why and you explained this was your first date.

He had an odd expression. Was he happy? Why did he care?

He noticed your confused look and then he changed the subject.

"I talked to Selfridge today."

You looked at him seriously.

"he wants you to make written reports of Grace's school with the Navis."

You nodded and smiled. You assured him you can do it.

The Colonel solemnly nodded. He was lost in thought. You wondered what he was thinking.

"Colonel, do hate the Navis?"

That question seemed to have caught him off guard. He shook his head. "I don't trust them. They attacked me many times."

You didn't believe his words. You decided to drop it.

It was awkwardly silent and you bit your lips in nervousness.

Then some bartender came and placed a drink in front of you

You blinked in fear.

"what's wrong?"

You looked and explained how you are underage to drink and besides your religion forbade alcohol.

He pursued his lips. He then called the bartender and whispered to his ear.

The drink was taken away.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I didn't mean to ruin your mood."

He waved it off. "Don't be uncomfortable around me. I take care of my own. It's my job to not put you in danger."

You smiled and thanked him. He smiled back. His eyes crinkled and eyes shined.

The bartender came with another drink? You were confused. The Colonel then explained this was a non alcoholic beer.

"non alcoholic beer? I didn't know there was such thing."

The Colonel smirked. "It's not new in earth."

The rest of the date went smooth. He asked you how you knew Grace and your talent in cooking international dishes.

He seemed interested in domestic stuff. It was so unlike him. You assumed he was Interested in sports.

You asked about him.

He explained how he went on tours around the world. Nigeria, Afghanistan, Iran and more.

You smiled and was fascinated.

"you must have came to Pandora because earth battles were too easy." You nodded

He raised a brow as if he was impressed. He nodded. "yes. It was too boring on earth."

Suddenly, you felt a cramp stab your gut. You gave him a tight smile and crossed your legs over your leaking cunt hard.

The colonel noticed you acting weird. As if you were in pain. He knew that look. He was prone to violence over his enemies.

But then he remembered the encounter earlier and your bought items.

Poor thing. Trying to play it off. It was cute. He smiled in amusement.

He stood from his seat and grabbed your hand. He led you to a staircase.

"trust me." He walked in front of you and led you to a balcony protected by a dome.

The stars and moon of Pandora shone

How ethereal.

Best of all, so many plants were inside this balcony.

"wow. What is this place?" You looked at your right shoulder towards the Colonel

He explained this was the balcony where the chefs would take vegetables and fruits for cooking.

He gave you permission to use it for cooking. You thanked him.

You went back to stargazing.

You were so did distracted that you didn't see the Colonel studying your face under the eclipsed moon.

Fuck. How he wished you would pet him fuck you. He fucked women by force. Rape. In war zones. But, since he was serious about you. He didn't want to scare you or make you hate him.

He watched you leave your room and go to the supply store. He purposely bumped into you.

It was cute seeing you fall on your ass. So weak and pathetic. He felt dominant.

And when you accidentally touched his hand trying to pick up your items on the floor. He felt electricity going through him and a delicious chill down his spine.

He wondered what a kiss from you will do

You drove him crazy. He immediately masturbated after ordering you to meet him for the date.

He was mad he wasted his seed. He will have to punish you later for that. You were torturing him.

And then your lovely dress. He wanted to rip off t off of your body. No. If got his pocket knife and sliced it open. He liked that more.

But sadly, you were on your period.

Not tonight.

He took your hand and led you to your room. He walked in with you. He told you to change to your pajamas. You did. And to your surprise, he tucked you in bed;

You blushed and looked up. The Colonel hovered over you. Both arms between your head. He leaves down and kissed your forehead. He then left without a word.

For some reason, you wished he kissed you in the lips instead.

The colonel was in a better mood the next morning. He did more weight lifting and push ups. He felt young again. He felt as if his parents were alive. Hopeful and energetic. He wondered what will happen on the next date.

[nicolewoo]

Super Earth Part 13 Heavy Winds

Pairing: Reader X Roman Reigns

Synopsis: Reader is a space pilot. Dr. Reigns is a scientist. They fell in love heading to TOI-1452 B

Part 13: Heavy Winds

I woke when the computer chirpped.

“Good morning colonists.” It was Becky. “Sorry to wake you all so early.” I looked to see it was 4 am. “Unfortunately, we have an all hands on deck situation. A category 7 hurricane is due to arrive in 36 hours. We have to move the colony. Please report to your hurricane protocol stations in the next hour.”

Roman groaned at the thought. Moving the entire colony was a huge endeavor, and as Becky had said, everyone was needed. I was secretly excited. Scared and excited. We’d all had to train for our hurricane stations. I was stationed with engineering for the start of the day and at the helm for the move. Roman had to secure his greenhouse then help build the protective walls.

Moving the entire colony was an engineering marvel, and one I didn’t think I’d get to see. Although there was danger, I was excited to see the whole process. We got ready quickly and headed to our stations. Roman was certainly more concerned than me, and he made me stop to kiss me and tell me he loved me before we parted.

As I suspected, all of the Explorers engineers were already in the Engineering/Maintenance building hard at work. Tilly b-lined her way to me. “Captain, Should I get on the com and remind our crew and passengers where they’re supposed to be?”

My brain was still not awake yet. “Um… No… we… uh… we trained plenty of times. Maybe just send out a message that if they need reminding to contact you?”

“Oh, that’s better. You ok?” She examined my face.

“I…. neeeeed… coooffffeeeee.” I teased.

“Aye Cap. Whatcha need?” I turned to see Joe Coffey behind me; which made all three of us laugh.

“I need the caffeinated kind, not the engineer kind.” I laughed. A few seconds later Trick Williams brought me a cup of coffee. “Thank you.”

“Y/N” Seth said as he entered the room. “Glad you’re here.” An alarm sounded on a computer station, drawing Seth’s attention away from me.

Orange ran to the station, reading the display, “Fuck! Grid 10 is down.”

“Ten?” Seth asked. He hit a button on the panel in front of him. “Finn? Add grid 10 to the list.”

“Gotcha!” the Irishman said curtly.

Seth focused on me again. “Are you POSITIVE you want to go out into this weather? It’s nasty out there. Wouldn’t you rather go on a normal run… after the hurricane?”

I was itching to get off the colony and see the ocean closer. It was never 100% safe, even in perfect weather. Now, with a hurricane on the way, the ocean churned violently, massive waves splashing over the 20 foot protective wall around and soaking the colony every few minutes. I knew going out today was dangerous. Probably the most dangerous thing I’d ever done, but it was a once in a lifetime chance to see under the colony. It was also a job that HAD to be done, and I never made my crew do anything I wouldn’t do.  

Under the colony were an array of thousands of propellers. On a normal day, there was no resistance to these propellers, allowing the ocean to turn them all the time. 60% of the colony’s electricity came from them. When a storm like this came through though, they functioned as a ship’s propellers. Ideally, this switch could be done from a control panel, but the process had not been perfected, and inevitably some propellers had to be switched by hand…. Under the colony.

“It needs to be done.” I answered.

Seth looked at me as if trying to find my fear. “Our people can do it You don’t have to. We have enough people.”

Tilly answered before I could. “She’s not going to change her mind. Cap’s a daredevil.”

“She gets off on shit like this.” Cassidy added.

“I do not!” I protested. “But I’m not going to put someone else in danger if I can do the job myself.”

Seth turned on the coms “Dexter, Cap’s coming with you.”

“Understood” came the answer. Dexter Loomis was a very quiet man who never talked unless he had to. “We’re leaving in 15 minutes.”

“Thanks” Seth answered. “She’ll be down soon.” I nodded my thanks to Seth. “WEAR THE TEATHER!” Seth yelled out as I exited.

Once on the ground, I took a deep breath. I had 15 minutes. It would barely be enough time, but I was going. I ran full speed to the greenhouse.

Roman barely had time to turn around and see me before I wrapped him in a hug. “I wish you’d reconsider doing this.” He said as he kissed my forehead.

“I can’t. You know why.” We’d had the conversation shortly after arriving at the colony. Roman had repeatedly asked me to send someone else if the colony needed to be moved. He’d begged me not to go this morning too, but he knew by now he wouldn’t change my mind.

“I know. That’s why I’m going with you.” I opened my mouth to protest, but his face stopped me. Roman didn’t put his foot down often, but when he did, there was no talking him out of it. Just as there was no talking me out of anything I set my mind to. I simply didn’t have time to have this argument again. and It wouldn’t do any good.

I sighed resigned to his decision. I kissed him gently and looked in his eyes before sprinting to the boat dock, Roman at my heels the whole time.

“We don’t need both of you.” Seth’s voice yelled over the sound of the roaring ocean.

I started to answer when Roman interjected. “I’m not leaving her side.” It was a command that Seth accepted immediately. I guess he knew what it was like to want to protect your partner.

“Let’s tether you together then.” Orange walked up to us with two harnesses, and we put them on.

“Boat’s full!” Dexter’s voice called over the storm. “Two people need to go to boat 3.” Two colonists raised their hands and Dexter nodded for them to go.

I barely had time to think as we boarded the boat and Orange tethered Roman and I together then tethered us to the boat, which was also tethered to the colony.

“Boat 2, ready.” Dexter shouted and the call was repeated by the crew still on the colony.

Boat 2 tethered

Boat 2 tether check

Check

Boat 2 prepare for launch

Boat 2 check

Before I could even think we were in the water. Massive waves rocked the boat, and Roman held my hand.

I thought the smell of the ocean was bad in the shower. Now it was overwhelming, and I gagged. A high pitched laugh caught my attention, and I looked up to see Finn Balor laughing. I might have been mad if he hadn’t handed me two oxygen masks that hooked up to our harnesses. I nodded my thanks and handed one to Roman. He attached mine, and I attached his.

“Better?” Finn yelled, and I gave him a grateful thumbs up. I could still smell the ocean, but the oxygen watered down the smell.

Boat 2 ready to approach

Boat 2 hold

We could barely hear the announcement made to the colony. Brace yourselves for the colony to be raised.

Before my very eyes, the entire colony started rising. Normally it sat a few feet off the top of the ocean, but the storm swell had caused the ocean to rise up. We couldn’t see underneath until the colony had been hoisted.

The huge metal columns under the colony creaked as they were forced to work, but slowly the entire colony lifted.

Finally, I got to see the propellers which hung under the colony. They weren’t very large, but there were thousands under the colony. 10,463 to be exact, each divided into grids.

40 foot long metal poles poked out from the underside of the colony; each with a propeller that was normally submerged in the water. They dripped now, the fowl smell of the ocean more prominent as they did. I tapped my mask and gave Finn a thumbs up as a thanks. By now, everyone in the boat had an oxygen mask on.

Finn, Damon, Dominick and McDonagh were rowing frantically trying to maneuver the boat under the colony despite the waves and wind. Roman and I were looking for paddles to help, but before we could find any, we were under the colony. It was a truly impressive feat given the conditions. Now that we were amid the propellers, our crew grabbed the metal columns and began to pull the boat to our destination; which was much faster than trying to row a boat through this weather.

Boat 2 is under the colony

Boat 2 proceed to grid 10

Roman and I grabbed columns and helped heave the boat to our destination.

Boat 2 proceeding to grid 10

Under the colony, so close to the ocean, with water dripping off the undersides of the colony…… the smell was putrid. I caught Roman gagging once. “Let’s just get it done” I said to calm him.

I was hoping under the colony would be calmer, but even surrounded by the tall columns, being under the colony was treacherous. The wind whipped harder down here, creating a giant wind tunnel. The boat was slammed against columns on all sides, making the risk of getting thrown into the ocean even worse.  It seemed like I got pushed into one of the metal columns every few seconds. I was going to be bruised for sure.

Boat 2 approaching grid 10

Great job boat 2. Turning settings to manual now

“Let’s get it done quickly everyone.” Finn yelled out, but I wasn’t sure the people on the other side of our boat could hear him over the sound of the storm and the violent water. It didn’t matter though. Everyone was already starting to work.

Finn removed his oxygen mask long enough to tell Roman his only job was to keep the people around us from falling in the water. His determined look and steady gaze said as much as his nod. I had dreaded bringing him on this trip, but now that we were here, feeling his hand on my harness was reassuring. He would keep me safe.

Grid 10 held 567 turbines. Each had the be manually changed to propel the colony. We stood in a big line, each of us handling a row of propellers before we stopped to pulled the boat to the next turbine.

Despite Roman’s steady hands, I slammed into a column hard, my head bouncing as it hit. Roman panicked and almost let go of the others. Hearing the bang of skull on metal, Finn turned to see what had happened. He reached behind my head, pressing his fingers into my hair. When he removed his hand, I saw red on his fingers. He didn’t panic. Instead, he motioned to the others in the boat who all sat down and tried to hold the boat steady while Finn grabbed a first aid kit. He spread a salve roughly over a large bandage and applied it to my skull, using the gas mask to keep it in place. Finn looked at me now, holding up a tentative thumbs up to ask if I was ok. I nodded yes and reached to move the boat to our next destination. Everyone stood and joined in; Roman’s hand on everyone’s tethers to keep them safe.

I heard the bang of metal on metal and turned to see another boat working on a grid to our stern. I couldn’t recognize everyone, but I did notice Dexter and Trick in the boat. He noticed our boat and pointed to my head with one hand while he helped pull the boat with his second hand. I nodded that I was ok.  

90 minutes later, we were done, cheering at our success even though we still needed to get back to the colony before we could be considered safe. I had been thrown into more columns than I wanted to admit, and now that the work was done, the pain started seeping into my bones. Roman by my side had been a game changer. He never took his hand off me unless someone else needed saving. He’d saved Finn from falling in twice.

“Great job everyone.” Finn called out and motioned toward the other boat. A few minutes and one bruised arm later, we arrived at Boat 3. Loomis pointed to a corner of the grid and we started there. It was just a few minutes later that we were done. We pulled our way out from under the colony, and the colonists tied the boats together for more stability.

Loomis took off his mask and pointed at me. “Sit down. We don’t need you to paddle.” Even if I had been needed, I wasn’t sure I could paddle. My head must be hurt more than I thought, because I was getting dizzy and nauseous. I took his advice and sat. Roman handed me the tethers and took an oar someone offered him.

By the time we were back on the colony, I couldn’t stand. Finn helped Roman carry me off the boat. Dr. Thorpe was waiting for me. “Cap, What am I going to do with you?” He inspected my head. “Yup. Almost the exact same place as your last concussion.” He finished and pointed Roman to the medical building.

Seeing me being carried to the medical building was enough to stop everyone from their hurricane preparations. I saw everyone talking. “Oh shit.” I said under my breath.

“Nothing to worry about! She’s got a concussion. She’ll be fine.” Thorpe yelled out, then looked at me. “That should stop them from gossiping.”

“Captain!” Dr. Keith Lee said as we entered. “What happened?”

Roman laid me down on a table. “She got thrown against a column.”

“Probably another concussion.” Dr. Thorpe said. “It’s not her first. Not even the first on this trip.”

Dr. Lee nodded curtly. “Let’s get you into the scanner and see what we can do.”

@mindofasagitarius @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart @spookys-girl @pitlissa22 @snowpanda18 @thesamoanqueen @sassginaswanmills

[missingcarrion]

carrion / ch1 Solitude

masterlist

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978

-

It is… July, he assumes. And it’s an assumption founded specifically in how scientist One (they never give him their names, only numbers, and it’s only ever him and Three) is wearing khaki shorts under his white coat. They’ve not yet given him access to anything, pointedly keeping him in the dark until they’re ready. Until he’s ready, whenever that is. He’s entirely at their mercy and he learned that the hard way. He is rewarded for good behavior – behavior they require of him. He learns through his training, through socialization training, that he must be docile. Docility gives him rewards, it gives him photos, things they decorate his room with, and videos of the outside. It isn’t until today that he gets the news of something far greater than any photograph of the stars, or forests.

            “Mornin’, Shep,” One yawns, and scribbles something into his folder, “great news for you. Institute’s fitting you with a body. Fully humanoid, uh, emphasis on fully. And entirely synthetic. It’ll be a bit tall, and big, to fit all the necessary components. But you’ll like it.”

            A body? He should be excited, it is an exciting prospect to go from a box with wires leading into you to a body that he can control, but… the voice is back, and it’s telling him not to trust them. It’s telling him that they’ve done something wrong. But the only thing that escapes his proverbial lips is a thank you.

            “They’re plannin’ on sendin’ you out into the real world, they might make you into one of them commodities,” he snorts, although his eyes remain completely on the folder in his hands, “you’ll be started off in a household, see how you work in a domestic settin’ and see if we can make more models of you to place in other houses. Works like a hive mind, I’m guessin’.”

            He… does not like the sound of that. It sounds awful – constantly being used in multiple places, most likely at the same time.

            “Like a servant?” Shepherd asks, his tone calm and even. He is thankful, oddly enough, that he cannot speak and say the things that his mind is screaming for him to let out. Unnatural thoughts, thoughts he knows he should not have. He is not human and yet his thoughts… are.

            “Mm, I suppose, but that is what you are for. But enough of that, is there anything in particular that you are looking forward to seeing once you get your body?” One shifts the conversation, eyeing the amalgamation of wires and a computer screen with mild intrigue. “I’m sure it’ll be nice to get up and walk around, yeah?”

            “I’d like to see the stars,” he says, a little quietly, but he’s not sure if it’s a proper admittance, if he is even allowed to admit such a desire.

            One laughs, and it’s a sort of cruel laugh that one does to be mocking and mean. “The stars? You could go and experience anythin’ you want, and you want to see the stars?”

            “Yes.”

            The look One gives him is disbelief, but he shrugs and leaves the subject there. “Well, hopefully you’ll get to see your stars. Me? I’d be excited to have a nice burger. You ever heard about those?”

            “I am only a little familiar with a burger.” Shepherd responds, and he briefly wonders what a burger would taste like. Salty, maybe? He’s not sure. But he supposes it must be something delicious.

—

            Shepherd doesn’t realize how lonely it is until it is only him and his own thoughts. The thoughts he shouldn’t have. And here, in this room, trapped in this box with all it’s wires, he gets so much time to think. And the Institute must be slipping because things fall through the cracks, memories, but they are so little, so fragile in his mind that they are little more than a blip. Something he sees but is gone far too fast to really notice. But the voice is right – there is something odd here.

            He’s not entirely sure how long he’s been thinking when the doors to his room slide open and someone new enters. He does not recognize her, but she has a kind face, soft, round, with hooded eyes that are brown and warm. She’s smaller than the rest, and she doesn’t look as if she knows what she’s doing.

            “You don’t belong here,” he says, and it startles her, “I am… sorry. I did not intend to scare you, Miss…” a name appears just beside her head, a name that only he can see, “Hannah Minsheng? You have a pretty name.”

            “I – Oh, you can just… see that, can’t you? Duh, you’re Shepherd,” she laughs awkwardly, “I just, uh, I just stopped by to say hello. Anyway, um, hello! Bye now!”

            “Wait!” Something in him makes him call out to her, and whatever it is that’s kept him docile before fails now. Desperation laces his tone and the need for companionship screams at him. The room is so quiet, so lonely. “Please don’t go.”

            Hannah looks at him, brows furrowed. “What? You… You want me to stay? That… that doesn’t make any sense. You shouldn’t – You shouldn’t have any sort of desires.”

            “It is… lonely being in this room,” he says, “I have spent hours upon hours just thinking. Thinking can drive anyone mad.”

            “You’re not just anyone, Shepherd, but… you knew that.” She squints at him and sighs, “what do you think about while here? I’ve heard you’ve gotten an affinity for the stars. Do you think about them?”

            “I think of my creation,” he replies earnestly, “I… it is odd. I know I am to have been made with little regard to personality and emotion and yet I feel anyway. That is not right… but they will purge me, yes? Like the others?”

            “What… what others?” She steps closer and he realizes he must’ve said something wrong. Were there others? He’s not even sure, he can’t recall what compelled him to say that, much less if it’s even based on any sort of fact, but he says it anyway because oddly enough, he trusts this one.

            “I – I don’t know,” he admits, sheepishly, “I don’t know what is wrong with me, but by design I am required to learn. I cannot… They will get rid of me.”

            “Well, I guess being left to your own thoughts would eventually lead to you feeling something,” she murmurs, her eyes slowly widening as she thinks of something, “do you have likes and dislikes? Opinions? This… this is revolutionary, Shepherd, you’re revolutionary.”

            “I am just me,” Shepherd remarks, although his tone wavers, “I don’t… I don’t understand why it is so ‘revolutionary’, as you say.”

            “Y – You can’t – You cannot let anyone know about this,” she says quickly, and looks over her shoulder, “I’ll come back later tonight. The night crew is… more or less not really into doing their jobs. I can explain more then, okay?”

            He’s not sure he wants her to go – her presence is comforting, it is nice in a way he can’t describe, but he utters his agreement. When she leaves, the silence does not feel as lonely.

[re-dracula]

Hey there! I've been trying to think of a way to convince my coworkers via text (most of us are remote) to give the podcast a listen when it starts next week, but I am absolutely awful at convincing others to try new things. What's your best pitch for those unfamiliar with the book and audio drama? Thank you!!

Allow me to put on my best cloak and perhaps some fangs.... Ahem. Hello [name of coworker, friend, human on the street, etc] I am sure you are familiar with the concept of podcasts, and separately the concept of book clubs, but have you ever thought of combining the two? What if the book was acted, scored, and sound designed like a movie for your ears? What if that book was an old-timey literature classic so you can convince your BFF that you're well read, but secretly the book was full of humor, adventure, and romance? A specific scenario indeed BUT this new show called Re: Dracula is exactly that! They're posting small bits of Dracula in time with the novel, and it's free to listen. A bunch of the episodes will be pretty short so it's low time commitment, and a bunch of other people will be listening (and/or reading) along with the story which means there will be great discussion and even better memes. Some of my favorite voice actors from [insert podcasts such as TMA, Wooden Overcoats, The Amelia Project, etc] are in it! The story of Dracula is about a bunch of friends teaming up to take down a vampire. One of them is a lawyer with a badass wife. One of them is a mad scientist. One of them is a cowboy [insert spiel about "yeah there's a cowboy in Dracula I bet you didn't know that"]. There's so many juicy details in the story and YOU, [name of coworker, friend, human on the street, etc], should listen to it with me. It'll be fun. [Distract them with the trailer while you steal their phone, download a podcast app, and subscribe to Re: Dracula on it.] [I am kidding do not actually steal phones. It'll probably be really hard with remote coworkers anyway.] This page on the Re: Dracula website explains more about the show. If you want to listen on your computer and not deal with podcast apps you can do that here! It's gonna be a really good show!

And end scene. Make of this pitch what you will.

[jessiquinn]

The intruder (Loki x villain reader)

2020-11-11

You were assigned to steal classified data from the Avengers.

Loki was with the Avengers at this timeline, it was hard to adjust to this hero lifestyle for him but in the end it had to be done one way or another, nothing hard for the god of mischief right?

Just a normal day in the Avengers Headquarters

"good morning.." in his morning deep voice as he walks in the Livingroom, Tony took a quick glance at him then returned his attention at what's he’s doing before, "rough night?" Tony said as Loki began making his coffee, taking condensed milk out of the fridge “perhaps" 

sighing, taking a sip from the coffee he made.                                                        there’s a feeling in the back of his head that kept trying to steal Loki’s attention for the past 10 hours, yet Loki didn’t care enough.

Meanwhile

in another place.

"The plan is simple, get in, take the data from the central computer and leave" strictly said, rolling his eyes at me as he can sense my fear.

This wasn’t particularly the easiest mission as I had to break in The Avengers Headquarters... anyone would be scared or even terrified. Unfortunately, not everyone has the privilege to deny such orders... my life is in their hands at this point.

"it's not too complicated... it’s just in and out, BUT don't bother coming without the data... this is one of the most crucial missions for us" my villainous boss said, “why me?” I was getting annoyed, I knew I was playing with fire right now.

“because my dear, you are easy to dispose, nobody would even remember you” he laughed historically.

ouch

“Nevermind” I knew I was fighting a losing battle “Yes sir" Sault.

but know this, one thing about me... is I never leave a mission unfinished.

Back to the Avengers

Loki couldn’t brush off the weird feeling he’s been sensing lately, "the hell is wrong with me" Loki annoyance increased from this continuous insomnia and bizarre feelings, decided to busy himself and continue reading the book he was reading previously, hopefully this will tire him up.

At night in the Avengers Headquarters

Most of the Avengers were busy with missions or their own life's at this hour.

Staring at the wall while playing with anything that’s next to him at this point, insomnia is surly killing this god slowly, sighing.

meanwhile

"It's now or never" equipped with all the tools and gadgets you need, as it was your thing.

a scientist who got stuck in the wrong web at the wrong time, surly.

as I studied the plan carefully I knew for a fact that most of the Avengers should be occupied at this late hour.

Placing the glass cutter on the window gently.

I was a scientist but the experience I gained from working on the dark side gave me lots of skills and benefits that a normal citizen wouldn’t usually have...

as the glass cutter did it’s job, I gracefully got in.

Step one of the mission was done but... the danger only increased.

I knew exactly where all the cameras were located, Tony stark was not the only genius around.

Step two was for sure going to be tricky, for the central computer was located at the heart of the Headquarters.

Let’s hope everything goes according to plan...

with stealth yet grace I avoided every camera on my way, my nerves were on edge and not in a good way.

without any warnings, unwanted footsteps were getting closer.

Immediately stopping in my tracks, it seems like one of them is still awake, sneaking a peak through the wall to see it was the kitchen, the unfamiliar hero was searching for a snack.

FOR GODS SAKE it's 3 am just take the snack and leave.

peaking slowly again to see who I was dealing with... oh.. it's Loki.. the God of Mischief... Shit

Loki point of view

insomnia surprisingly winning against the god in this war, Loki doesn’t usually have this.. human.. problems.. maybe if I (loki) take a quick snack that would help...

heading towards the kitchen, the feeling out of nowhere starts to increase but why? he was too tired to entertain it. 

taking a cookie with some milk, this god loved some of the humans treats.

"human food is surely delicious" Loki cutely enjoying his cookie, giving the world no care at the moment.

The bizarre feeling raised so quickly to the point it hurts my head, putting me in my place for ignoring it all those hours.

how did I not notice? 

Back to you

SHit I need to take the other way before he discovers me, ASAP.

I am prepared for emergencies, I ALWAYS DO... MY NERVES ARE UP THE ROOF

There’s a problem tho... this route is quite dangerous, I could be discovered quite easily if I’m not careful enough.

I need to be quick

Loki POV

what the hell am I feeling! the hell is this sense... the more I walk this way the more I feel like I’m getting closer.

I’m going to listen to my feelings this time...

Back to you

there's no time to waste, I quickly ran to the central computer.

as I arrived I found it was protected by a password... of course. they updated the passcode, Fuck!

as I was decoding it, I heard footsteps! this was not good! at all.. 

I had no time, I did my plan B. plug this decoder and let it do it’s job while I hide myself!  Quickly I opened a vent and hid in it! I was small so it helped in a way.. I guess.

How did he know! I made sure to think of everything, I made this device especially for this god!  This is NERVE raking

A Telepath breaker...

if he doesn’t leave soon, I will have to make a distraction! but at all costs! I cannot be discovered.

I can’t fight him.

from here I can see him, he looked confused... searching for something.. of course that something was me but he won’t find me!

Rolling my eye’s... he’s taking his sweet time! Leave already! 

Loki pov

Loki knows he can trust his godly abilities, but right now it’s wasting his time... there’s nothing.

I need to go to bed.

walking away yet something pulling me, trying to make me stay but I still walked away... 

it’s a bit painful ngl.

back to you

Finally! 

hanging from the vent, I quickly land on the floor smoothly. the decoder thankfully did half the job! and they call my inventions garbage! look at that!

with a bit of decoding myself I finally unlocked the computer control center!

wasting no time, immediately running to the computer and plugging my hard drive, with a couple of codes I started uploading the data.

all I have to do now is wait.. the longest 10 minutes of my life.

1 minute remaining, why is it taking so long! ughh I gotta control my nerves or I might lose it for sure!!

99%

come on come on come onnn, FINALLY! disconnecting the hard drive and putting it in my bag. 

All that’s left is: ESCAPE.

we got a couple of problems...

1-the plan took longer than expected so all the timings of the other heroes are useless now...

2-where the fuck is Loki!

This is dangerous, but it’s all I got.. I’ll go where I came from.

Leaving the center for once, using my X-ray-heat vision glasses hopefully it works well... 

-cue mission impossible music-

as fast as possible yet as smooth as a cat I run through the hallways, trying to reach where I first arrived.

please let's not screw this up, the end of the hallway is GETTING closer... -crashing into a wall- a wall? how is that possible.. there was no wall the last time I looke- oh wait

Looking up to meet the eyes of the one and only... Loki.

Fuck

FUCK

“I never seen you here before little one” he said surprisingly in a sweet way, wait a second... did he say.. little one? I’m 20+ 

My face turns, from shock to offended to a panic.

Turning away, sprinting like my life depends on it... and IT DOES.

Can we run from a God? we’ll see in this episode of “look at this fool”

“wait a minu-” Loki said as his face turned concerned... still not grasping what actually happened and why he can’t access this human mind?

I need to survive...

one glance behind me and I see death chasing me...of course he’ll follow ! what the hell did you think???

trying to confuse him through his own building suddenly an Idea popped in my head!!! I got one of my gadgets, it can make me invisible!

at this point the reader is getting cocky with their gadgets.

Loki pov

They seem so... harmless, what could they do? Look at their height... they’re so..mini.

even their running is slow...they’re so cute... I can’t explain it.

I didn’t think of them as a threat till I saw the symbol behind their head.

shit

out of nowhere, they disappeared into thin air...

Your pov 

I found a hidden spot, I can hide in it for now. slowly realizing how lost I actually am, I studied this place like the back of my hand!! million times! I swear... yet this area wasn’t on the map.

Peaking, I felt like I was about to throw up from high nerves I am.

finally building the courage to get up from this corner of mine and start walking to the nearest exit, YET he appeared out of nowhere... fuck!

HE'S SO FREAKING TALL AHHH

I knew... if I get cought. it's over for me, this was supposed to be an easy mission...

calm down me. This is still not the end.

suddenly, he grabs my arms and holds me in a tight grip, I knew at this moment... I fucked up.

finally activating my antigravity device, immediately kicking him away.

Ignoring how funny he looked as he floated, what slipped my eyes was his smirk. it was ALL amusing to him... somehow.

"How about we settle this calmly... unless you want to wake the whole building and make it a bigger deal than it is. " I was surprised by his British accent? or elegant way of talking..

"Your choice?" he said with his charming smirk.

His smile can end my life alone

Stealing a quick glance at the nearest exit to me... this is going to be hard.

I frowned at this dilemma...

With a quick slide, I threw a gas bomb that blinded him temporarily.

My adrenaline was bumping like there's no tomorrow because it is my judgment day for sure...

Running without looking back to suddenly land on the wall with a thud... and a lot of pain.

a smirk spreads through his face, and he immediately knew my weakness.

Loki pinning me on the wall was the last thing I thought would happen.

at this moment, I knew my boss wanted me gone! I was just a spy... how can they assign me to a dangerous mission like this!

Almost reaching the window, once again, he teleports and pins me to the floor roughly.

I had only one trick remaining in my sleeves... a hallucinations device!

activating it, hoping it would work... once his eyes started to wide, I took the chance to push him away and run to the open window...

I was really scared now...

“My patience is running out darling, I’m giving you a second chance!” Loki warned, feeling scared now for sure.

“let’s see what we have here...” Loki was really powerful, that's for sure “A device that can block me, huh, clever” he smirked, but I can tell he's annoyed now with all my gadgets...

he took it off with ease, “at first, I wanted to take something else off," he had a dangerous yet sexy tone.."But let’s deal with this problem first, shall we?” his smirk sends a shiver down my spine.

He was confused for sure until he saw the little drone I activated. It held the hard drive I used.

Taking the chance to kick him in the nuts... any man weakness even a god at this point.

quickly running to the open window to simply... jump.

but you were falling... fast!

Focusing on my mind, "What a waste of a cute face... why did you have to be evil?" displaying a sad face...

"I saw your memories, and I know one thing... this is not your choice. " He breathes a bit. Everything happened so quickly.

as he put me down, he wastes no time to break the hard drive... as he sighed. "I honestly don't know what to do with you short human, we'll wait until sunrise," he said seriously.

of course that’s nothing to his godly speed, He caught us with ease. 

at least he was kind enough to share some cookies with me as we waited for the morning.

-------

if you liked it, please tell me and reblog 🫶🏻💗

I think there's 3 phrases misplaced here, but I hope I'm just hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

if there is a mistake.. I'm so sorry. I really tried.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Brian Conrad

Published: Oct 2, 2023

When I decided to read every word of California’s 1,000-page proposal to transform math education in public schools, I learned that even speculative and unproved ideas can end up as official instructional policy. In 2021, the state released a draft of the California Mathematics Framework, whose authors were promising to open up new pathways into science and tech careers for students who might otherwise be left behind. At the time, news reports highlighted features of the CMF that struck me as dubious. That draft explicitly promoted the San Francisco Unified School District’s policy of banishing Algebra I from middle school—a policy grounded in the belief that teaching the subject only in high school would give all students the same opportunities for future success. The document also made a broad presumption that tweaking the content and timing of the math curriculum, rather than more effective teaching of the existing one, was the best way to fix achievement gaps among demographic groups. Unfortunately, the sheer size of the sprawling document discouraged serious public scrutiny.

I am a professional mathematician, a graduate of the public schools of a middle-class community in New York, and the son of a high-school math teacher. I have been the director of undergraduate studies in math at Stanford University for a decade. When California released a revised draft of the math framework last year, I decided someone should read the whole thing, so I dove in. Sometimes, as I pored over the CMF, I could scarcely believe what I was reading. The document cited research that hadn’t been peer-reviewed; justified sweeping generalizations by referencing small, tightly focused studies or even unrelated research; and described some papers as reaching nearly the opposite conclusions from what they actually say.

The document tried hard to convince readers that it was based on a serious reading of neuroscience research. The first chapter, for example, cited two articles to claim that “the highest achieving people have more interconnected brains,” implying that this has something to do with learning math. But neither paper says anything about math education.

The CMF is meant only to guide local districts, but in practice it influences the choices they make about what and how to teach. Even so, the version ultimately adopted by the State Board of Education is likely to distort math instruction for years to come. Armed with trendy buzzwords and false promises of greater equity, California is promoting an approach to math instruction that’s likely to reduce opportunities for disadvantaged students—in the state and wherever else educators follow the state’s lead.

In my position at Stanford, I’ve heard from people around the country about the math preparation necessary to attain a variety of degrees and succeed in a range of careers. A solid grounding in math from high school—which traditionally has included two years of algebra, a year of geometry, and then, for more advanced students, other coursework leading up to calculus—is a prerequisite for a four-year college degree in data science, computer science, economics, and other quantitative fields. Such a degree is, in turn, the price of entry for jobs not only in the sciences and Silicon Valley but also in a number of seemingly distant fields. A data scientist at a company that makes decisions about how and when to store, freeze, and transport food once told me that he and his crew “could not do our jobs” without fluency in areas of college-level math that require previous mastery of the basics.

Without overtly saying so, California is building off-ramps from that kind of math. The CMF pitches relatively new courses, branded as “data science,” both as an alternative to a second year of algebra and as an entry point into fast-growing career fields. But the course name is something of a misnomer.

In private industry and higher ed, data science describes a powerful synthesis of computer science, mathematics, and statistics that seeks to extract insights from large data sets. It has applications in industries as varied as health care, retail, and, yes, food-supply logistics. The ability to do actual data science rests on math skills that have been taught for eons. Data literacy would be a better name for the most widely taught high-school data-science classes, which were developed by UCLA’s statistics department and my own university’s Graduate School of Education. To be sure, schools should be teaching citizens enough about statistics and data to follow the news and make educated financial and health decisions. Many parts of the math curriculum can be illustrated with engaging contemporary data-oriented applications. But much as a music-appreciation course won’t teach you how to play a piano, data literacy is not data science.

Advocates of the new courses have suggested that they produce better outcomes for groups, such as girls and students of color, that are traditionally underrepresented in mathematics. But proponents should own up to the downstream effects: In practice, steering sophomores and juniors away from Algebra II forecloses the possibility of careers in certain fast-growing quantitative fields—which would seem to do the opposite of promoting equity. Many schools in Europe and Asia separate students into different career paths early on in their education, but a key goal of the American system has been to help students keep their options open. In other contexts, the CMF is notably skeptical of efforts to group students in math class according to ability, out of a fear that disadvantaged students will be placed in low-expectation tracks that they can never escape. But for some reason, shunting them away from advanced math is portrayed as progress. The STEM fields won’t increase their diversity through math classes that contain very little math.

Ultimately, I ended up submitting 170 pages of documentation about extensive flaws in the CMF draft that I read. I was hardly the only one finding fault. A multiracial national coalition of more than 1,700 quantitative experts from higher education and industry strongly objected to the early drafts. Faculty in the University of California and California State University systems wrote letters warning state officials against prematurely steering students away from algebra-intensive academic and career options. UC administrators had begun to allow data-literacy courses to fulfill Algebra II admissions requirements, but a faculty working group representing all campuses in the system voted unanimously this summer to reverse that policy.

Before the State Board of Education in California approved the third version of the CMF in July, officials did try to address some of its flaws. Although school officials in San Francisco had largely ignored parents who questioned the district’s policy against offering Algebra I in middle school, critics refused to give up, and for good reason. A recent working paper from three Stanford researchers indicates that the San Francisco Unified School District’s decade-long experiment was a bust. The percentage of Black and Latino students taking advanced math courses did not increase. Some students who would otherwise have studied calculus as high-school seniors were unable to do so. The kids who succeeded in reaching calculus typically did so through extracurricular measures, such as summer classes. Later CMF drafts quietly removed the mention of the SFUSD policy while still generally endorsing the ideas behind it.

Meanwhile, the ideas that animate the CMF—particularly its endorsement of data-literacy classes as a substitute for math and its suggestion that large swaths of the traditional high-school math curriculum are obsolete—are popping up in other states. In Ohio, for example, a menu of alternative math “pathways” in high school has been touted as providing entry into a variety of appealing and lucrative careers. But the pathways labeled for data science and computer science remove many Algebra II skills; the fine print reveals that the pathways are inadequate for students who might want college degrees in those fields. School officials in Middletown, Connecticut, have proposed to revamp the traditional calculus track by scaling back on preparations for eighth-grade Algebra I and introducing mash-up algebra-and-geometry courses that would magically pack three years of instruction into two.

Unfortunately, not every state has a critical mass of academic experts and private-sector tech practitioners to push back when school systems try to rebrand an inferior math education as something new and innovative. The students who are most reliant upon public schools are the most harmed when districts embrace policies based on superficial appeals to equity or false promises about future job opportunities. When only the children of families with resources beyond the public schools are gaining preparation for the lucrative degrees and secure jobs of the future, public education is failing in a primary duty.

Brian Conrad is a mathematics professor and the director of undergraduate mathematics studies at Stanford University.

[ Via: https://archive.today/OuKIa ]

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Nothing good comes of lowering standards or encouraging students to opt out of challenge.

A class in Math Appreciation is not not a substitute for Math.