#zero logic zone right here

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Uh-huh. You realize, coming from a 26 year old, that this is just ageism, right? "I'll only take you seriously because of your age"... and you think you're in the right?

Yeah, "14 years olds act more 14 about it" because typically a group with absolutely zero societal power that is literally treated as the subhuman property of their parents and irrational mindless inconveniences that are only here to annoy "real people" will get upset when you continue to treat them as such while reminding them of the absolute privilege and societal power you hold over them.

I was 14 too. I remember the frustration at no one taking me seriously. I remember the fury that when I turned 18, 20, 25, suddenly everyone believed me about the things I'd been saying for 4, 6, 10+ years. I remember the disillusionment that happened when I realized the only thing that had changed was not some arbitrary debunked number at which the brain "develops fully", not some threshold of "maturity", but simply that I was no longer the age at which the state had a chokehold around my personhood, or in some cases the age which people think my human rights should have been delayed to.

Because it's not like adults EVER have bad opinions about something you say online, right? It's not like they don't FREQUENTLY respond to you trying to talk to them about it with stubborn and willful ignorance. It's not like the OP of this or a similar post didn't once respond to my detailed and logical essay about ageism with "lol I'm not reading all that". It's not like unreasonableness and angry nastiness at a post is utterly unlinked to the age of the person perpetrating it, and people of all ages do this in equal numbers.

Oh wait, it's exactly like that, it's just that society supports and even rewards the exact same misbehaviors in privileged people that they condemn in marginalized people.

It's just that when an adult does this, it's either that they're arbitrarily right based on their age/other privileged identity and often the marginalized status of the person arguing against them (see: OP, every argument on antisemitism where goyim are seen as the rational and reasonable and therefore right ones), the person arguing is being "immature" and "might be lying about being an adult' or "is acting like a child" (transmascs being silenced about their oppression using infantilization, the concern trolling of people who are happily 'crazy', the infantilization of disabled people and especially those who are intellectually, cognitively, or developmentally disabled), or both.

They're right. Their age has nothing to do with what they're saying. However, it has everything to do with how you're mistreating them. If they had no age in their bio, you might have taken them seriously, at least enough to believe they might listen to your viewpoint and to treat them like an equal human being.

If they had had an age above (usually 20-25), your last grasp at defense would have been to discredit them by comparing them to a 14 year old or accusing them of lying about their age, precisely because even adjacency to that identity allows you to shut down any argument they make.

Unfortunately, when you're in your 20s and 30s, everything is influenced by how fucking 20-40 you are. You forget exactly how cruel and oppressive society is to children. You forget how people magically started treating you like a person instead of a thing that existed only to "irrationally" be angry at the world around you. You forget how you were right to be angry at how they treated you.

You forget that you were legally allowed to have someone else dictate what and when you ate, how you dressed, whether you received necessary medical care, whether unnecessary medical procedures such as intersex "correctional" surgeries and treatment were forced on you at any age, when and for how long you were allowed to leave the house, and if they hit you in a well-known erogenous zone it would have been considered "discipline" as long as they called it "spanking" and not "physical and sexual abuse. You forget this and any number of other things considered abusive if a partner or roommate were to do it to even someone who had just turned 18 two seconds ago.

You forget that while it was technically illegal for your parents to starve you, to beat you, to emotionally abuse you by gaslighting or daily verbal abuse or manipulation, to torture you, to sexually abuse you, to hurt you to the point of you developing PTSD and or dissociative disorders, that there is very little recourse for actually enforcing it. You forget that you just have to hope that a different adult believes you, and in order for them to do that you usually have to fit a stereotype of a good victim and that your parents usually already have to be not in good standing with your community.

You forget how many cases of actual textbook abuse CPS does nothing about for "lack of proof" despite a supposed societal narrative of "believe victims".* You forget that they prioritize reunification even in cases of actual physical abuse, often with the abuser themself. You forget that you were a member of the only class that can have the police called on them like dogcatchers to drag them back kicking and screaming to their abusers, with no recourse or means of escape provided, because the state depends on and serves the institution of the "nuclear family". You forget that historically police served to return escaped property to their owners, and still do so today.

(*Believe victims if they have any measure of societal power that causes consequences for not believing them. Believe victims as long as you will be judged by most people for not believing them. Believe victims only if you can be held accountable for not doing so.)

As a disabled person and therefore a vulnerable adult, I had the unique position of being treated as a child until I escaped at age 23. It was all the same arguments - that it was "for my own good", that I was "incapable of making those decisions for myself" (or apparently, finding someone I did trust to make them for me, because I was "unreliable enough" I couldn't even do that), and so on.

This only made me realize that, despite the fact that none of that was true, it wouldn't be okay even if it was. It's not okay for disabled adults who DO need significantly more help caring for themselves than I do and who are profoundly cognitively or intellectually disabled to have their autonomy infringed on and their consent violated.

So why, then, is it okay to do to a child, regardless of their actual ability to take care of themselves or "make rational decisions"? Why is it okay to treat a child this way? Why is it okay to regard someone as fundamentally subhuman until an arbitrary cutoff?

Why is it okay to assume complete and total irrationality and unreasonableness on the part of an entire class of people just because as a subjugated and oppressed class they are still on rare occasion irrational or unreasonable? Isn't that bog-standard bigotry?

Why is it okay to justify their oppression by them being sometimes unable to fully stand on their own two feet, without help or community, under the weight of the oppressive system itself that serves to reinforce that? Why claim the purposeful elimination of tools and obscuration of helpful skills and knowledge under the guise of "protecting them" shows that they are incapable of surviving without those violences in a system that you claim is not, in fact, openly hostile to them?

And yes, this does all matter in the context of petty online discourse, because it is these systems that serve to reinforce and be reinforced by this casual ageism.

It is reaffirming the ideas which uphold these systems - that children are incapable of being rational people with reasonable emotional responses to mistreatment, who have to be told at every point what is in fact fair and how they must react to not face active bigotry for their immutable identity. It is conditioning children to beg for scraps of respect so that they learn assimilation early and go on to perpetuate childism when they themselves become adults.

It's petty and cruel, and it's destroying my faith in humanity to see marginalized people I otherwise respect sharing this. Y'all of all people should know better. Y'all of all people should be able to see how it maps to multiple of the various types of oppression and even intersectional oppression and then goes further.

Y'all of all people should be able to remember how being a child was your primary identity and primary form of marginalization, because you could legally be allowed to be abused for your other marginalized identities and most people in fact supported your family doing so, or at least felt that even if it was wrong it was still "their right" to do so.

Maybe you were privileged enough to have a supportive family, but I know for a FACT most of you weren't.

Kids are considered uniquely incapable of having any identity that is not immediately apparent - of knowing they are chronically ill or queer or plural or neurodivergent. They are considered incapable of having valuable and complex thoughts about politics or religion. They are not listened to or considered experts on the specific intersectional discrimination they face for immediately apparent identities, such as being children of color or visibly disabled. Adults within those groups are considered the experts on forms of discrimination they'll even admit they no longer experience, but that children continue to.

This is not just queerphobia or ableism or racism or any other number of forms of bigotry. This is specifically childism intersecting those forms of bigotry. It is not just not okay because of their queer or disabled or racial or other identity. It is not okay because children are fucking people, and yeah, deserve to be treated as equals and not be condescended to even in the actual rare cases where their reasoning is not completely rationally sound - just as is the case for disabled people, I might add.

If you can see how one is ableism but not how the other is bigoted childism, if you can't see the parallels between two cases where

-most individuals in a class are fully rational and intellectually capable people purposely being mislabeled as not so in order to justify their subjugation

-which is fundamentally reliant on the societal acceptance of mistreatment of those who may not be fully rational or intellectually capable (which is deeply ableist/childist, oppressive, and wrong),

-and where those who actually aren't fully rational or are intellectually incapable face no reprieve both in being weaponized against members of their own class with relative privilege AND in fighting their own mistreatment, which unlike in the case of those who might be able to convince others of their capability is considered always justified on the basis of their incapability, while not actually being okay on ANY basis,

then I can't help you.

To be clear, the reason it is ableist and/or childist to label someone as intellectually incapable when they are not is not at all because actually being so would be in any way bad. It's because it relies on the deep, insidious ableism/childism against those who are considered intellectually capable to function. It is essentially a separate facet of that same ableism/childism, and one specifically functions because of the other facet of ableism/childism that says that all members of said class are incapable and therefore need to be mistreated in the same way as those who actually are.

"No one deserves to be treated this way," is fundamentally how this oppression should be addressed, period. Understanding how it functions differently for different people, and how easily the most vulnerable members of an oppressed class could have their liberation tossed aside in order to pursue assimilation for the less vulnerable is still important, though. Understanding that your own oppression relies on the total subjugation of part of your community on the basis of an ontological trait that they have and you do not is actually paramount in recognizing both your own relative privilege and how to effectively fight the oppression you all face.

Or to put it simply, it's important to recognize that if you're being oppressed because someone is claiming you're something you're not, that that oppression isn't okay toward the people who are that thing.

Anyway, adults who talk about childism, adultism (I apologize that I struggle to remember the difference between the two, much like I struggle with the difference between ableism and disableism), and youth liberation also hold privilege. As I mentioned above, the most that someone can use to discredit me here is to say that I'm immature or they think I'm secretly a child.

Even the people who really don't want to examine their own privilege and complicity in their hierarchical relationship with children are more likely to listen to me, and if they don't they'll make fools of themselves with such lines as "I refuse to read anything longer than a twitter post to educate myself on complex systems of oppression".

I'll keep trying to stand up for children anyway. Not just because I actually remember what it's like to be 14, but because I have a responsibility to do so as an adult. I'll uplift the voices of the children who quite honestly are way better at explaining this and have a far better understanding of both the direct experience and the sociological theory behind it than I ever will be.

Also note: I didn't anywhere in this post point out how people who are 17 and some months are functionally indistinguishable from those who have just turned 18, or how variations in "development" might cause some who are 15 or 16 to be very similar to others who are 18, or so on.

Quite frankly, I don't think that matters. I do think 14 year olds deserve to be treated with respect just as much as 17.99 year olds, and I also think often 17.99 year olds face much of the exact same mistreatment and oppression (especially systemically) as 14 year olds. The exceptions where legal emancipation can help those over 16 are both rare enough and require trading being controlled for being unsupported. Therefore I think that while a more nuanced conversation about this could take place within the communities actually affected by this, I think it's neither appropriate nor helpful here.

I'd also like to remind people that predators are often successful at grooming children because they pretend to treat them with respect and take them seriously. The answer to this should not be "oh, anyone who respects children is a groomer", but rather, "hey, maybe if everyone treated children with respect and took them seriously, actual predators would have one less avenue through which to target and harm children".

As a CSA victim myself, I will NEVER stop doing anything and everything I can to prevent more children from becoming victims. I only care about what's effective, not what feels good in pseudo-proxy revenge fantasies against imagined perpetrators while very real ones continue to go unnoticed and unchallenged by society.

I take children seriously because it's the right thing to do, but also specifically to fight CSA. I also remind anyone who needs it that they do NOT know they can trust me or anyone else on that sole basis. While I want to be a safe adult, doing so in a society where children have no recourse against mistreatment fundamentally requires them protecting themselves by not trusting me just because I recognize the power I have over them and the ways in which they are abused.

(This is another example of how the fearmongering mindset over generational friendships, particularly between minors and adults, is just as harmful as the pushback against comprehensive sex education and coming from the same puritan and christofascist roots. Knowing that something is sexual abuse just allows victims to voice what they're experiencing. Having safe adults who respect them allows children to recognize the manipulative behaviors and other red flags of unsafe adults.)

Anyway, all the original post is saying is "I don't like when members of an oppressed class stubbornly refuse to compromise on being treated as equal people with valuable thoughts and rational responses to mistreatment, and in fact insist on being listened to when I say things that are cruel, unfair, and untrue."

(When did use of "unfair" become a synonym for "whiny snowflakes children who just can't see that life is inherently unfair" in leftist spaces that purportedly fight against systemic injustice, anyway? When did it become something "immature" in the fight against identity-based violence that is inherently not fair?)

So I guess, act more 14 about it. I'll continue acting more disabled and queer about ableism and queermisia, so I fail to see what's bad about that. But imagine thinking that interacting with someone on the basis of their age is useless and thinking you're in the right for it. Truly showing their entire ass.

#childism #adultism #youth liberation #cw csa mention #csa mention #it's sometimes shocking to me that people are so much more ignorant about child liberation than even like. mad liberation and stuff #but it makes sense bc children are fundamentally THE most oppressed class on the planet #also yes I'm using USamerican ages here bc that is what I have perspective on #I welcome people from countries where personhood is granted at different ages to weigh in #also I use children here but I'm not sure if I should say 'minors' or something else instead esp when primarily discussing teens so like #lmk if I need to change that #undescribed #needs ID

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Entrapment - 4 (Innocuous)

Please do not read this fic if this is not your cup of tea. You have been warned, by clicking on Keep Reading means you have understood the warning. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

Meet me at my place at 6, it's important. Your message flashed on Tommy Shelby’s phone while he was in a family meeting. He was giddy with joy for the first time in a very long time. Polly noticed Tommy’s smirk.

“Thomas, you look happy, care to share with the family”, Polly interrupted John’s rant.

“Nothing. I am just happy that there are no more issues to deal with today.”

The whole family knew that Tommy was hiding something but kept mum. They were used to Tommy playing cards close to his chest and would be informed when he saw fit.

“If that’s all, Poll, let’s conclude this meeting here,” Tommy asked.

“Anyone else has anything to add to the agenda?” Arthur asked, and the room stayed silent.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow at the ball”, Tommy added while putting on his trench coat.

Tommy got in his car and drove off to his destination, your quaint little apartment. He parked in the basement, tipping the security guard generously for helping you out with the maintenance issues.

He rang the bell, and your voice came from inside, telling him the door was open. You were so bloody careless. What if it was some armed mugger, a rapist, or a murderer? You had zero self-preservation.

He let himself inside, removing his shoes because your house was a shoe-free zone. He found you sitting on the couch, staring at the wall blankly, while the centre table had some pamphlets lying.

“Y/N, darling, what happened?”

“Huh?”

“You texted me and asked me to come over.”

“Oh, yeah, I did, Thomas. Sit down.” You hoarsely said.

He came and sat near you. You turned to face him, wanting to tell him, but your throat closed. Taking a deep breath, you looked into his cornflower blue eyes, fuck, the baby would be half him and half you… It would be a cute kid. Was abortion a mistake? No, it can’t be. A child should be brought into this world when you’re ready, right? You had let your thoughts run amok. Your hands were shaking, and this was one of the significant decisions of your life, a life that you created.

Thomas saw your hands shaking and placed his hand over them, giving you time to blurt out what he already knew.

“I am pregnant, and I don’t know how that happened. I know we used condoms, but they are only 98 per cent effective,” you babbled incoherently.

“I just wanted you to know. I am not planning on keeping it.”

Thomas Shelby’s eyes got colder, his icy demeanor resurfacing, and his head turned towards the fliers splattered across the table. Some were related to abortion, and some were to pregnancy care. He turned towards you, observing you. You were fighting a battle within, and you were lost.

“Do I get a say in this?”

You nodded, wanting to hear his part before taking a significant step. Thomas was, after all, the father of this baby.

“I am thrilled about this baby, and I don’t want you to get rid of it.” He said while touching your stomach to persuade you.

“Thomas… Babies are much work; don’t you think babies deserve to be brought into a committed, well-established relationship.” You present your case, not backing down from the decision.

“I agree, a child should be brought in a committed relationship, they should have a loving upbringing, and I am willing to work on it. I want us to have this child, a child who is half me and half you, a perfect blend.

“What we have is barely a relationship.”

“I know, eh, but I will rectify that, I will work on it, I promise, I promise to take care of diaper duties.”

You chuckled, imagining big, scary Thomas changing a diaper.

“Thomas, we barely know each other. I don’t even know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything?”

“How about I take you on a date tomorrow? Give me one chance to prove my worth, and if you’re not okay with what I have to offer, you can...”

You nodded. It seemed like a logical condition to you.  

You were yet to discover the limits Thomas Shelby was to go to have you. You were his, you would soon find out, but by then, it would be too late to run away.

#Dark Tommy Shelby x reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x Desi!reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x Black!reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x WOC!reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x Desi reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x Black reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x WOC reader #Dark Tommy Shelby x Y/N #Dark Tommy Shelby x You #Dark!Tommy Shelby x reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x Desi!reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x Black!reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x WOC!reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x Desi reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x Black reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x WOC reader #Dark!Tommy Shelby x Y/N #Dark!Tommy Shelby x You #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x Desi!reader #Tommy Shelby x Black!reader #Tommy Shelby x WOC!reader #Tommy Shelby x Desi reader #Tommy Shelby x Black reader #Tommy Shelby x WOC reader #Tommy Shelby x Y/N #Tommy Shelby x You #Thomas Shelby x Desi!reader #Thomas Shelby x Black!reader #Thomas Shelby x WOC!reader

[dyadicjustice]

no hate, no bigotry, no racism, no assholes, just no. seriously— zero tolerance. have decorum. keep our safe space safe.🤝

mother dj, may i swear? of course! be warned, I swear like a sailor myself (and nope, i'm not sorry).

feeling spammy? whew, this is definitely not the blog for that. so be gentle with that request button, will ya? additionally, i prefer to keep my social time casual. plus i got like homework and prorities and mentall illness and shit 🥺 also i reserve the right to blockity blockity block block any-fuckin-body.

my non-exhaustive no-write list (tw for abbreviations): sh, sa/r*pe, ed, age play, cnc, mental illnesses that i don't have explicit experience with, and as a blanket rule anything else i do not feel comfortable with or confident in writing.

this is a no repost zone. what happens in the dumpster stays in the dumpster. seriously do not copy, paste, translate, or put my content anywhere.

this is not high school. please bffr. no negative talk or critiquing me or my work. idc what's canon, idc what's logical, idc what you read somewhere else, idc what ya think of my masterpieces or nonsense— this is my dumpster. if you don't like it, get out me swamp pls.

don't shit on my characters/fandoms because these bitches is my sons and real captains go down with their ships✨⚓

but that's not how ____ acts! my darling angel, all my characters are grown as hell, and they act however they want. they take on a mind of their own, if you will. idk dude i'm just the writer

no man's land.... to the nice men out there, luv ya but from a distance. there isn't any straight content or content specifically for y'all here. you can read things... i guess 🤨 idk... just don't be weird. if ur a weirdo or asshole, see rule # 1 and kindly piss off.

also general tw for things i might write: what kind of writer would i be if i didn't write what i know from time to time? another blanket tw for themes/topics of comphet, internalized (or general) homophobia, adhd, autism, major depressive disorder, anxiety, uncut jahms, things like that...

ba·si·cal·ly: be kind, be respectful, and have fun out there. take care of yourselves lovelies!

by entering this site and/or interacting with its content, you indicate your understanding of and agreement with the rules as stated in this post.

with love, dj🍓

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

Something I said while driving really hit home about trauma, chronic illness, disability, perfectionism, & ableism.

“Fifty feels really slow when you were just going seventy.”

I was referring to how fast we were driving. We went off the freeway & felt super slow as we slowed down.

((....& I’m leaping into a car analogy but here goes. I hope you follow my logic here 😅.))

But then....

Giving 20% of you feels like a LOT when you usually give 5%.

Giving 70% of you to someone makes the 30% you have left for someone else feel pathetic.

Perfectionists try to give everything 100% without realizing or acknowledging that 100% is a whole you. You only have 100%.

For disabled people & chronically ill people, we’re always giving an extra 10%, 20%, even 70% or 90% of ourselves to just surviving and taking care of ourselves.

But that’s a separate dial, ¿right? (/analogy, rhetorical)

If you look at a car, there’s the MPH/KPH (speed), the RPM, the heat/cold of the engine, & the fuel tank (Empty to Full).

And people who aren’t disabled don’t have to think to check the gas tank, or the heat, or the RPM. They just check the speed (percent) - up to 100, because you only have a whole you to give. They go “oh, I’m only going 5MPH/5KPH, I can do more” & they can just choose to hit the gas pedal & speed up to 10, 20, 100.

But for disabled people? If the heat is wrong, the car (ability to move, ability to do a task, etc.) dies. If the RPM is too high (stress/overstimulation/etc.) or too low (fatigue/understimulation/etc.), the car won’t start. The tank might be empty if you CAN get the car to start. So you check all your dials, & some days you have to go ‘sorry, I can’t go anywhere today’. Some days it’s as easy as filling your gas tank or coolant or etc., but some days nothing is enough. Some days the car dies anyway. (/analogy)

Some days you just can’t get out of bed, or have to choose between eating & showering or getting dressed & showering or etc. Some days you can’t recharge, or it takes days to refill/recharge.

But all that they see is you aren’t moving. “¡You’re at zero! ¡Stop being lazy and move!”

Because they never have to look at the other dials. Their tank is always full after they sleep or eat or do self care. Their car never overheats. Their car rarely if ever goes into the red zone (RPM) & dies. They only have to check the MPH/KPM. They only check the speed. (/analogy)

They only have to check how much they’re doing. (/srs)

& they probably have a luxury, new, push-start car too, especially in comparison with some disabled people. (/analogy)

And that’s not even getting into the cars with leaks, damage, stuck pedals, or other broken/flawed equipment. That’s not counting cars where the engine tumbles without starting no matter how hard you try turning the key. That’s just cars with 4 dials to check. (/analogy)

It’s not laziness if your car breaks down. That’s when you take it to a mechanic, you rest & you do what you can until your car can drive again. (/analogy)

It’s only “lazy” if you could go faster without harming yourself or others, but you choose not to go faster. You’re going 30 in a 75 because you don’t care about how you affect other people & you don’t care to do more. (/analogy)

And really, true laziness is rare even among people with good cars. It’s an empty tank they didn’t notice (need sleep), or a stuck pedal (need a brake/break), or a malfunction (overwhelm, trauma, etc.). (/analogy)

¿Do you understand? ¿Do you follow me (/met) here? (/srs, gen)

To people with good cars (/analogy), to those who CAN do a lot & for whom sleep refreshes you, you’re not evil for having a good car. But please remember, some of us are driving with manual transmissions, stuck pedals, low fuel tanks, or some other disadvantage that you don’t have to deal with. Be patient. Don’t accuse them of not trying. (/analogy; gentle, gen, nm)

To people who don’t have good cars (/analogy), to those who struggle to do a lot & for whom sleep doesn’t really reset you, you’re not lazy. Your car needs extra dials. Learn to check the other dials too. (/analogy; gentle, nm, gen)

~Lucca (he/him; protector, soother)

#trauma #childhood trauma #neurodivergent #actually autistic #childhood abuse #actually adhd #disabled #disability #chronic illness #actually disabled #analogy #cars #car #100% is a whole you #~Lucca

[synersofttechnologies]

Why SMEs Need to Make Cybersecurity Their Top Priority

There is no time more bullish than the present time for Indian SMEs. They are on the mark and ready to embrace GET SET GO moment. Yes, I have all reasons to believe that MSMEs are ready to conquer the global markets. They have weathered the dynamic external forces and demonstrated perseverance. Let us have a logical scan of how SMEs are all set to change their trajectory and enter another orbit.

 Stage one thrust is from the Government of India to our own SMEs by all reasonable means. Consistent policies supporting SMEs like skills development, finance availability, debtors protection, infrastructure development, make in India, and Atmanirbhar India initiatives have equipped these fantastic entrepreneurs with the confidence to advance towards any global opportunity.

 Trust me; the net practice was already on since last decade. Significant Foreign Direct Investment in the last decade has brought global industries to India. These MNCs have boosted MSMEs’ prospects through their vendor development programs. It has given a blanket exposure to SMEs about global markets, quality management, technology adoption, and of course, the connections. It has made SMEs confident and ambitious to expand to new markets.

 The Covid crisis has exposed the influence of China on global trade and supply chains. It has sensitized the rest of the world to establish a balance. Russian aggression in Ukraine has major world markets looking for a friendly trade partner. Somehow, the world finds its comfort zone in dealing with democracy compared to pseudo-democracy. India, a democracy with all its demographic features, tops the list of the countries to look up to to restore trade and supply chain balance, as seen by the affluent western world. It is a stage two thrust for our SMEs on their mission to change the orbit.

 What is changing in the new orbit? SMEs are tasting the fierceness of the global competition. Competition standards have suddenly changed, and technical sophistication and compliance are the new normal. SMEs who shy away from digitization, automation, IoT, and smart manufacturing won’t be spared. It has undoubtedly led to these things, which are the adoption of information technology, a transformation of physical assets into digital assets, and zero tolerance toward information security lapses. Imagine all designs, drawings, cost sheets, customer data, formulae, IPR, business data, documents, communications, and transactions have gone digital and are exchanged electronically. There is a catch here. Digital intruders and hackers of the world have reasons to party.

 In the last decade until five years ago, MSMEs were considered lazy on IT adoption. For them, accounting software was IT, and IT was accounting software. Suddenly, they are compelled to adopt the latest form of IT, go through rapid digitization, and comply with the stringent global standards of information security. They are like soft targets for cybercriminals. Unfortunately, these SMEs do not have access to IT Talent who can adequately protect them because good IT Talent does not aspire to work for SMEs. We frequently see them losing their business continuity due to ransomware attacks. They are likely to fall prey to cybercriminals who defraud them by email identity theft, phishing, and data breach. They tend to fall short of customers’ expectations about information security compliance. They end up assuming significant contractual liabilities without adequate provisions to avert the defaults.

 Indian SMEs must claim the global opportunities served to India for all right reasons. They cannot afford to fail. To maintain business continuity, avoid competitive exploitation, and comply with the highest standards of information security, they have to reshuffle their priorities and make Cybersecurity their top priority. It is not the SMEs who can do it single-handedly. The government, IT Industry, and SMEs will have to make this happen. The government’s scheme to entitle SMEs with a subsidy on ISO Certification can be widened to cover subsidies on Cybersecurity measures. IT Industry can invest in developing SME-specific products that are simple and affordable. SMEs can change their perspective toward IT by taking it as an investment and not an expense. With a crucial role played by the IT Industry, the determination of SMEs and facilitation by the government will do wonders. The first step is to change SMEs’ mindset to make Cybersecurity their top priority.

 Vishal Shah

Co-Founder, Synersoft Technologies

 Tags:

Data Loss Prevention Solutions

Data Security Solutions India

Gmail Recovery Software Solution India

#Data Backup Software #Laptop Security Software #Data Theft Mitigation #NAS India #RIM Service #BuyBack BLACKbox #Blackbox Security Software #Blackbox Service #Security Software India #Hardware Security Solution India #Hardware Data Security Solutions India #Antivirus & Laptop Security Software #Data Backup Solutions #Data Cyber Risk Solutions #Data Leakage Prevention & Cyber Risk Solutions #Data Loss Prevention India #Data Leakage Prevention Solution #Data Loss Prevention #Data Loss Prevention Solutions

[ezralva]

w/ permission fr @wangxian_footprint on IG

#lan xichen #has NO CHILL #jiang cheng #face at the end 😂 #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jin ling #expressions totally fit their dialogue omfg #not Guanyin but Wanyin temple scene #xicheng #the untamed #cql #memes #incorrect quotes #xiao zhan #wang yibo #wang zhuocheng #liu haikuan #qi peixin #zero logic zone right here

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner��� routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

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

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds fandom #my fics #rb!!!!!! ily!!!!!!!!! #ivyheliotrope #abby! #aaron hotch

[atsushigre]

stay over

pairing: hawks x reader

summary: after a long day of hero work keigo finds himself on your roof. again. 

wc: 2183

a/n: hello again everyone it is i, hazel, back at it again with More Hawks Content. i’ve had this one done for a while and genuinely forgot about it lmao but istg next time i will write about a different character. anyway enjoy!!

everything feels….weird, without his wings. logically he knows that the feathers will grow back, but two days is a long time to be grounded for someone like keigo, so used to taking to the skies. he feels almost naked without the wings at his back, once beautiful and grand and now reduced to nothing but lesser covert feathers for the foreseeable future. his hands sank deeper into his pockets as he hunched further, trying to compensate for the lack of weight at his back as he made his way through the empty streets. the day was long, even for a hero like him, and between the fight with the nomus that left him grounded to the tense words he’d shared with dabi moments ago, he was just about ready to speed home and call it quits. though he couldn’t help the feeling of wrongness that was eating at him even still, annoyance rising in him as he tried to place exactly what it was making him feel this off. a gloved hand rose up to rest on his face, finger tapping on his chin in concentration as he sank deeper into thought. all in all, despite the overall frankly terrible atmosphere of the day, objectively speaking, things could have gone worse. way worse. he’d even managed to save all those people, scraping through the afternoon with a grand total of zero casualties, and even the mild to severe annoyance he’s feeling over a spontaneous transformation to flightless bird will dissipate in a day or two, so what could it be that’s got him all twisted up thinking about it?

oh. right. you.

 his feet came to a stop almost on their own, and as he craned his head upwards he couldn’t help the small twitch of his lips into a smile as he came face to face with not his own high rise, but your apartment complex. a tad bit run down, smack dab in the middle of his patrol zone, and oh so familiar. see, pretty much every night for the past four (five? he’d almost lost track) months he’d found himself perched on the roof of this very building, takeout from the restaurant across the street in hand (what could he say? he was a busy guy and their fried chicken was to DIE for) taking a quick break to scarf down some dinner before he took to the skies again. it was convenient, centrally located, and, well, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also come with good company. it had seemed he wasn’t the only one fond of spending his nights up on that rooftop, as nearly every time he’d found his way up there in recent history he’d been met by you, busying yourself with one thing or another, and over the time you’d shared together he’d actually become quite fond of you and the snippets of (near) normalcy you provided. after all, with such a chaotic schedule like his, breaks were few and far between, and it was nice to be able to sit and just be for a while. 

boots touched down on the roof of the ratty apartment building, and the flapping of wings slowly died down, the rustling of feathers and clothing slowly stilling as the whipping wind dissipated. his whistling cut clean through the still night, and he couldn’t help but let the chuckle escape him as he heard a startled noise come from the center of the shoddy rooftop garden. the scratching of a chair on cement echoed as you padded out into his field of view.

in slight disarray (as always) you made your way over to him, a contented grin on your face and cradling your laptop to your chest. he raised his hand into a two fingered salute, hopping off the ledge of the rooftop to meet you in your advance. 

“you’re a bit late today,” you giggled as you gratefully accepted the drink he’d held out to you, setting your laptop down so you could take a seat next to him. your gaze followed him as he shuffled his meal around in his lap, and you watched as he chuckled and shook his head, directing his gaze up towards you.

“sorry bout that, kid. all the villains in town ganged up and decided i’d be eating a late dinner today.” he gave himself a moment to stretch his tired wings, subconsciously curling them around the two of you as you sat, you with your legs dangling over the side of the building and he with his legs crossed, dinner in his lap. he’d rarely admit it, but the downside of all his speed was that quiet moments like these, and time to just take care of himself, came few and far between, which only led him to cherish the minutes you’d spent together even more.

he hadn’t meant to make an unlikely friend when he’d first landed on your building those months ago; honestly, he’d just wanted five minutes to eat his chicken in peace. but he was so so tired and even though when he’d landed he’d found you star gazing, he’d decided it wasn’t damned worth it to find a new building to park himself and scarf down his dinner. this’d have to do. but you were cute and entertaining and non intrusive and he couldn’t help but leave with a bit of a light feeling in his chest, and subconsciously or not when he found his boots landing on your roof the next day, and the day after that, he never pulled himself away. he could let himself have this, fifteen minutes a day of peace. 

“you alright?” you questioned, and he blinked out of his thoughts to meet your gaze, brows slightly furrowed and face pulled into a concerned expression. he chuckled with a nod, hand rubbing over his neck as he pushed his visor up and off his golden eyes, looking out over the city before his gaze flitted back to you. 

“course. just thinkin, is all.” he gestures between the two of you, a small smile growing wider on his face. “just happy to have this.” he buried his face in the collar of his coat, light blush rising on his tanned cheeks as your delighted laugh rang clear in the night air. you bumped your shoulder against his, head tipping back to take in the night sky as your own smile cut wide and bright across your face.

“i’m happy to have this too.”

of course this was what was eating at him. he’d been so busy today, wrapped up in the hectic nature of his lifestyle that he hadn’t had a minute to his pause, and how could he take a break if it wasn’t here, right? he’d conditioned himself to associate the ratty brick building before his eyes with comfort and peace, and while he didn’t quite have time to unpack all of that he also didn’t have the patience to leave without getting what he came for, despite every bone in his body begging for a well-deserved nap. he pushed up on his feet, instinctually trying to propel himself into flight before he came crashing back down to reality. ah, right. flightless bird, for at least two days. how could he forget? 

his glance strayed to the door, and then to the call box on the door, and in an instant, it dawned on him that he didn’t actually know what unit you resided in. he cracked his knuckles once, twice, pondering how to combat this predicament before his gaze landed on salvation, otherwise known as the fire escape.

with a running start he launched himself up to grab the ladder of the fire escape, burning muscles screaming in protest as he hauled himself up and onto the first level, metal clanking and disturbing the quiet evening atmosphere. with a huff he straightened himself out, straightening his ruffled clothing and beginning to climb the stairs before he heard a gasp, and moments later your worried face was peeking over the side of the building. 

“hawks?” you cried, panic laced in your tone, and keigo perked up at your call, tired smile beginning to stretch over his face before it fell as he took in your panicked appearance. 

“sorry i’m late, busy day today,” he sighed, and you scoffed, ripping a hand through your already disheveled hair, taking in his own appearance (and most notably, lack of wings.) a shaky sigh left your lips, and you quirked your head to the side as you leaned farther forward the edge.

“hawks, why are you on my fire escape?”

“couldn’t exactly fly up today, now could i?” he gestured to his empty back, and as he reached the final level of the fire escape you weakly held out your hand to help pull him up onto the roof, he waved it away, using the last of the energy in his fatigued body to launch himself to a position where he could finish his climb, hauling himself over the ledge and onto the hard cement of the rooftop. he leaned up against the ledge, and you kneeled down in front of him, hand ghosting up to land over his before hesitantly pulling away. you looked a wreck, eyes faintly rimmed in red and hair disheveled, a side effect of the frustrated raking of it away from your face, and the corner of his lip twitched upward as he drank you in. though his muscles were screaming and every part of him was tired, hauling himself here tonight was more than worth it.

“i saw what happened today, on the news. good job,” you weakly smiled, eyes darting around before finally landing on his. “i didn’t think you’d swing by today, given everything.”

“and yet here i am.”

“and yet here you are,” you sighed, finally allowing yourself to rest a hand on his upper arm. “you should be resting, not here. today was rough.”

“i am resting. here, right now. with you. well, for as long as you’ll have me, and then i’ll trudge my way home. or maybe i’ll call a cab, haven’t taken one of tho-” he began to ramble, before you cut him off.

“stay over.” his eyes widened slightly, and he fought the urge to tear his eyes away and tuck his face into his coat to hide from the gentle resolve in your gaze. 

“pardon? sorry kid, don’t think i heard that quite right.”

“i said stay over. you’re tired, i was...worried, and you already went to the trouble of dragging yourself over here anyway. so stay over, and i’ll take care of you, and you can take off again tomorrow morning.” silence fell over the two of you as he mulled over your proposal, and if he noticed his heartbeat picking up at the prospect of staying the night he’d die before admitting it.

“well, when you put it like that, how could i refuse?” you sighed, shaking your head before outstretching your hand, hauling him up and digging through your pockets for your keys. your hand tightened around his and he went to pull away, and he tried to fight the grin splitting over his features as he laced his gloved fingers with yours. pulling him down a couple flights of steps, making sure the hallways were empty (you’d die before you had to explain what you were doing dragging number 2 pro hero hawks through the hallways of your complex this late at night) before pulling him into your tiny apartment. it was nothing to write home about (and honestly, secretly, you were a little embarrassed now that you had hawks standing inside your tiny, messy apartment. but he was tired, and so were you, so you could be embarrassed tomorrow.)

“i’ll get you set up,” you said, disappearing into the bedroom and giving him time to take in the (slightly) chaotic surroundings. despite the chaos, he couldn’t deny that it was wholly you, and he couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in his stomach as he took in the surroundings. you emerged a few moments later, blankets and pillow in hand, and that warm feeling spreading through his body only got warmer as he watched you set the couch up for him.

“if you need anything let me know,” you smiled, hand resting gently on his arm. he met your gaze with a grin, and as he settled into his makeshift bed for the evening he could feel your gaze on him from the doorway of your bedroom for a few moments, but when he cracked one eye open to look at you you had already disappeared, shutting the door gently behind you. 

he settled back onto the couch, tucking himself into the comfort the space around him provided. and, if a few hours later, his sleep-addled mind felt a hand card through his hair once or twice, his blanket get readjusted, and a soft kiss pressed to his forehead, well, he’d just have to chalk it up to a dream. 

#eeeeee i'm nervous abt this one!!! kei pov is Hard For Me #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #bnha hawks #bnha hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks imagine #bnha hawks imagine #keigo takami imagine #takami keigo imagine #bnha imagine #mha imagine #hawks x you #keigo takami x you #takami keigo x you #bnha x you #mha x you #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #my hero fanfic #boku no hero fanfic #f: bnha #c: hawks

[dogtoling]

What is a Special Weapon? (a speculation)

So let's get straight into the post. (LONG post under the cut)

A Special Weapon is: - the weapon itself: a powerful ink battling weapon manufactured and regulated specifically for this purpose (Bubble Blower, Sting Ray, Inkstrike, Inkzooka etc.) OR - a specialized attack or response treated as a special weapon (Kraken, Splashdown, Booyah Bomb etc.) - Supposedly uses the Inkling's own ink - debatable, but highly likely based on evidence

Before we can get deeper into the special weapon lore, we must look into what comes BEFORE a special weapon. That's the special gauge.

There are multiple ways to fill up a special gauge: - Inking turf - Having control over an objective in Ranked Battle - Being in an underdog situation in a match (Tenacity) - Equipping a Canned Special What happens when the special is then activated? The meter slowly depletes, and once it is fully drained, the special ends. In practice, what IS the special meter? Now, when looking at the meter objectively, it looks as if it's filled with ink. That alongside its function in powering Special Weapons, as well as draining like an actual Ink Tank, can give the impression that it is LITERALLY a secondary ink reserve the player is filling up. This is in order to then use all of that ink as ammo for the special. And this actually makes a lot of sense. well now it's time to open a whole new can of worms (or weapons i guess)

CANNED SPECIALS Canned specials are literally, well, canned specials that make an appearance in Splatoon's single player modes as well as the Battle Dojo from the first game.

(From the splash screen of the first game, we can see that they are approximately the size of an actual tuna can.) Upon obtaining a canned special, your special gauge immediately fills up and you gain the ability to use said special weapon, which heavily suggests that the special weapon itself is stored inside.... the tiny can. You know, stuff like a force field, or a 7ft ink cannon. Or a pressure washer that includes more ink than the volume of an Inkling. Yeah. Right. So this implies insane hammerspace technology if it IS to be taken at face value - although i find it odd that there's not a single official art or tidbit of lore that acknowledges that inklings in fact obtain their specials from tiny hammerspace tins. (Even sub weapons and their inner workings make a tiny appearance in official art. Specials are never elaborated on too much, unfortunately...)

As an alternative, there is the concept of the cans holding a specific amount of condensed ink enough to power any of the included specials that you could then pop inside the weapon. That is not at all how it's implied to work, but it's a cool alternate explanation that makes slightly more sense - and if we take some liberties and assume that the cans are a LIIITTLE bit bigger, we could even argue that the cans could be THE special gauge itself. Looking at the special gauge, it IS designed to be round, just like a tin. I don't recall what it was modeled after if anything, or if it's just a coincidence, but food for thought.

Oh yeah also here's a picture of a NORMAL main weapon can that you can get at Kamabo Co. They have one for like every weapon type as well as some bombs which implies that weapons are oftentimes stored inside cans (although these might be bigger cans). Either way, the ink tank idea might be down the drain considering the implications of this one.

Anyway, moving on. Hi guys! I brought you guys all the way through that wall of text... just to dunk on that literal ink tank theory and dump it in the trash because there is another theory that makes more sense on like every scale possible. I'm so sorry. (But I also really like the idea of the special gauge being a literal ink tank that you fill up, so I had to include it, because it's not like it doesn't hold a lot of ground.) I'll get straight to the point. The other theory is that the special gauge is only a hypothetical concept created for the sake of gameplay and balancing, and in reality, it is simply the buildup to what I'll refer to as the "special rush" state of an Inkling. It has no physical value, varies between Inklings, and has no ties to actual points at all. Observe these bits from the art books 1 and 2:

1. Some Inkzooka trivia. Although the entry refers to SPECIFICALLY this weapon, it is very likely that the same is true for all special weapons - or at least the ones that primarily use ink (so not necessarily things such as the Bubbler and Echolocator).

(Ignore the random lines. Those are my notes lol) This Baller entry tells us a LOT and i mean a LOT of what we needed to know. First of all, the Inklings' ink output breaks the laws of physics there is no way a single inkling has enough ink inside it to even fill THAT ball at least 4 times the volume of its body NOT TO MENTION producing enough ink to fill one SEVEN TIMES THAT SIZE anyway the important part is the one where it confirms that Inklings produce an abnormal amount of ink while they are using a special weapon. Because the Baller was specifically developed for the purpose of containing all the excess ink, there is a big implication that the ink is originating from the user itself, specifically in the moment of using a Special. Then why is this? Well now we get to the concept of the "special rush" that I mentioned before. It refers to this state that we see Inklings enter when their special gauge fills up:

Their tentacles will glow, bubble up as if boiling, and they will look as if caught in an epic dramatic action movie wind at all times. This is when they're able to use their Special.

I think it's safe to say that this is "a heightened emotional state". As opposed to for example the Kraken which could be a repurposed panic response (if you haven't seen my post about that, that exists too) the special rush is likely a similar all-out response, although caused by getting really in the zone of battle. So to put it simply, a POSITIVE chemical response, in which the Inkling's body starts pumping more ink through channeling one's fighting spirit and yadda yadda yadda.

To put it shortly here; this "rush" likely evolved as a response to intense territory disputes or even hunting. More ink means more defense AND more offensive power. In Turf Wars, reaching this rush means that Inklings can - and probably have to - channel this excess ink elsewhere, which in this case is into special weapons that quickly gobble up all of the excess ink (with part of it going in the ink tank).

A lot of the weapons second this excess ink theory by including a heightened coating of ink across the user's whole body (Ink Armor, Booyah Bomb, Splashdown) or even rounding up the excess ink that's built up into an offensive endeavor (Splashdown, Booyah Bomb, other specials utilize it as ammo). Once all the ink is used up, the Inkling's emotional state stabilizes and the cycle soon starts over again until they hit the high mark again. (For a second ignoring the fact that it is physically impossible for them to produce this much ink. I guess I'm not ignoring it since I'm drawing attention to it here but it bothers me so much. My work is never done lol) So I guess this theory makes sense, but why is it inherently BETTER than the "special gauge is an ink reserve" one? Let's see the arguments for the ink tank version: 1. The Special Gauge is literally filled up with ink as the game is played. This is potentially something that happens as the weapon is shot, and some of the ink is channeled into the special gauge instead.

> It doesn't make much sense for this to be the case. The ink is being SHOT OUT, not stored; at least not stored anywhere visible and although you really have to have room for imagination when trying to draw logic for this game, i would really assume the developers would include a physical indicator of the gauge if it was meant to be literal.

2. There is potential for the Canned Specials to BE the gauge itself, as something that attaches or "fuels" the special. The gauge could be designed the way it is to reflect this.

> The canned specials are a weirdly inconsistent thing in the world of Splatoon, appearing ONLY as insta-fills in single player campaigns and the Splatoon 1 battle dojo. True, there are some on the player's desk in the splash screen of the first game, but we also don't know if those are for Turf War, or the dojo, or from Hero Mode. There's not even any for sale at Ammo Knights, whereas entire special weapons outside of cans very much are. Even if the special gauge isn't a can, it also doesn't mean that a can as an ink tank can't essentially serve the same purpose of providing the ink needed for a special. 3. The gauge fills up with a very distinct ink graphic, so it could literally mean it's ink!

> This one is true! But taking into consideration one thing; as a hypothetical gauge, the connection with ink is STILL there, as by the time the gauge is finished, the Inkling is basically overflowing with excess Ink. So rather than an external tank being filled with ink, the player itself is. 4. The gauge fills, then it's full, and it slowly depletes as a special is used. Basically the perfect flow; and a perfect reasoning for where all the ink comes from, and WHY you need to fill up the gauge to be able to use a special.

> This same reasoning still makes complete sense for the hypothetical gauge. The graphic goes up to indicate how close the Inkling is getting to the rush state, clearly shows when they are IN the rush state, and then the state slowly wears off as the ink is used. Where the ink comes from is directly explained in canon at this point; an Inkling in its special weapon state emits a crazy amount of ink - according to what the art book shows, more than like 10 times the volume of the inkling itself. Which makes zero sense whatsoever but, well, it does explain where the ink comes from. 5. The special meter being hypothetical wouldn't be good because it wouldn't be consistent at all. Some people surely get way more pumped WAY faster and use way more specials than others! No balance!

> The special meters aren't consistent to begin with, even in the game. People who stack Special Charge Up will sometimes use a special upwards of five times per 3-minute-game. People who get splatted a lot may literally never get to use a special once. Just like people's personalities in real life, the rates at which different Inklings would "charge up" can vary by a mile. And furthermore...

We see examples of the "special rush" outside of the gameplay!

Pearl, in the ending of Octo Expansion, enters a special rush mode seemingly out of nowhere (though you could also maybe say she might have used a canned special) after getting pumped to literally save the world. So does Agent 3; DOZENS OF TIMES, in both iterations of battles against them. They use a bunch of special weapons completely out of left field, take way more hits than the player and continuously use Splashdowns. This is because they're continuously triggering their Rush in the midst of intense combat, and especially under mind control, during which most of what they probably have is survival instinct, which means drastically raised ink production upping both offensive and defensive capabilities. But wait, there's actually even more that supports the theory of the special gauge referring to a buildup to a rush state: - Tenacity as an ability. This ability makes it so that your special gauge will automatically fill itself up if your team has fewer players on the field than the enemy team. This ability makes very little sense in the situation that the special gauge is literally an ink tank, as you're not actually shooting ink at all for it to fill up. However, as an emotional thing, a player that is also an underdog is SURE to be really giving their all in the competition and thus building up their rush faster. - Your special gauge supposedly fills up passively while your team has control of the objective in Ranked (I literally didn't know this because I barely play ranked ever). Again, this has nothing to do with actual inking. But what it DOES have to do with is potentially winning the game, and that totally gets you pumped. - Again, the inconsistencies in a special gauge. If it was an ink tank, you would assume the amount of ink needed for each special weapon was a very specific amount. Instead, players fill their special gauge at different rates, and getting splatted cuts down the gauge... again, depending on your abilities. Losing ink from a pre-filled ink tank that is being specifically saved up for a weapon doesn't really make sense as one gets splatted, but getting demoralized and frustrated when getting splatted makes a whole lot of sense, which would also set you back in reaching your special rush.

In conclusion: The Special Gauge is a hypothetical meter that exists for gameplay purposes; in practice, it only conveys how close or far a player is to their "special rush" state, in which their senses and emotions are heightened and their ink production is greatly increased due to a surge in fighting spirit.

1. When a battle starts, no one has their rush going on because everyone is only just warming up. Different people with different objectives and personalities may get their rush very quickly, very slowly, very frequently or only once. You get the picture.

2. As players find themselves doing intense physical activities, participating in tense combat and so on, they build up towards their rush state (likely building up endorphins, dopamine and adrenaline or the like), which increases the body's ink production. It is likely that contact with ink also naturally increases one's ink production.

3. When players hit this rush state and the "special meter" is filled, they can channel all the excess ink into a special weapon. Once the ink is used up, the rush subsides into a less intense emotional state, until the cycle may start again soon after.

Well, there's my thoughts on specials and mostly the special gauge and what it means. Thanks for reading yet another one of these essays.

#squidthoughts #splatoon #splatoon headcanons #special weapon #specials

[lavaffair]

Just Admit It

Inukag Fluff Week Prompts: Touch and Pining

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33211216

Having a crush on someone can be wonderful, but also incredibly unfair. The hours spent daydreaming about the person who gives your stomach butterflies seem to be more fun than having the actual crush. Experiencing this vulnerable feeling because of a person is actually quite terrifying and painful. Most of the time, crushes lead to heartbreak and letting go of the person who never gave you a chance.

Being in love with a person can be extremely intense, almost obsessive, and beautiful if done right. When someone’s feelings reach this level, it begins to cut deeper beyond the surface, into dangerous and uncharted territory. Especially if the person you are in love with has absolutely no idea of your true feelings towards them.

For Kagome Higurashi, her feelings towards her best friend Inuyasha Taisho went way beyond a crush. She was in love with her best friend, so in love that it hurt her, and she was too afraid to ever tell him about them.

The risk of ruining her lifelong friendship of 16 years was too scary to think about. Kagome could never think of her life without Inuyasha, he was always there to annoy her, get her angry, protect her, and support her whenever and wherever. When he yelled at the bigger kids for making fun of her name when they were five, or afterward when she pushed someone away from him when they pulled on his ears, they made a pack to back each other up. The friendship just blossomed after that.

Of course, they made more friends along the way, which included Sango and Miroku; whom they met in middle school, but their friendship never changed. They knew each other better than anyone else, and they have had the uncomfortable and awkward conversations that come up between teenagers, and so they have seen it all.

They have been there for each other when their hearts have been broken, when they had fights with others, and when they have personal issues. The bond between them was so strong that even the idea of it breaking caused Kagome a ton of stress. She could not do it and would not do it. At the end of the day, they will be in each other’s friend zone and they will die in the friend zone.

She was convinced that Inuyasha had zero feelings for her. He has seen her at her worst, and probably only looks at her like a sister. There was no way he could feel anything more for her.

This is why seeing him flustered and awkward about having to share a bed together did not raise any suspicions. It was obvious he was just a bit uncomfortable with the situation since it has been years since they have shared a bed with each other. They are both in their early twenties now, and sharing a bed was very intimate at this age compared to at 13.

“Yash, I could go downstairs right now and ask for another room. You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.” Kagome grinned at him, trying her best to suppress her shyness.

“Tch. We tried that already! That old hag wasn’t budgin’. This is the last time we let Miroku make hotel reservations.” He anxiously paced around the room.

“I can’t believe they don’t have any rooms with two beds. It’s not like it’s a special weekend or anything, it’s not even that busy this time of year.” She could not help but bite her bottom lip while watching him pace the room. His anxiety was getting to her.

“Well. We’re stuck here now, I tried all of my tricks but that lady wouldn't budge. We just gotta figure this out.”

He disappeared into the closet and pulled out an extra blanket provided by the hotel and placed it on the ground beside the huge bed. It was soft and fluffy enough to provide some comfort, but Kagome knew his back was going to hurt tomorrow and beyond that. They are staying at this hotel for the next few days, and until they can find a new room, they will have to make due.

“Inuyasha, we can just share the bed.” She tried speaking logic into him.

Inuyasha hoped she missed the way his body jolted at her offer because it was an intense one. Share a bed? With his best friend, whom he also harbored feelings for? Not a chance. Not when it was hard for him to even look at her without thinking about all the ways he could hold her.

He was down bad, he just refused to make it obvious. Instead, he played off his feelings for her by being extra rude sometimes. It helped mask his feelings and it was believable because he was naturally a huge jerk. Of course, he has gotten softer because of Kagome, but he turns it on when he needs it. Right now, he was too flustered to even pretend to act like a cocky bastard.

He and Kagome have not shared a bed since they were pre-teens, and that was before puberty kicked in. It took him a while to notice it at first, but when Inuyasha realized he had developed feelings for his best friend, he knew he had to shut it down immediately. He saw the changes she went through, and how she went from this annoying, loud, bossy little girl into this independent and beautiful woman. It was too much for him, and it happened overnight. He sucks at handling his feelings, he is not the best with women, and thus concludes him knowing he is not good for her.

Kagome deserved better, she deserved more than him. Some guy who can talk about his feelings and does not want to punch almost every frustrating person in the face. He was in love with her, so in love, he would sacrifice his chance of happiness just to see her happy with someone else. He will support her from the sidelines, like any good best friend, while his heart tears away at the idea of a love that did not get a chance.

Her friendship was enough for him. That is what he told himself every day.

“No.” He replied flatly. “You probably still kick in your sleep.”

“I do not kick!” He heard her shout.

He laughed, “Tell that to my legs. I think they’re still bruised.”

Of course, he did not miss the way she scoffed as she got the bed ready to sleep in. He could hear her breathing from across the room, her sweet, natural scent filling the space every time she moved around and it was intoxicating.

“Don’t be such a big baby!” She padded the pillows for extra fluff. “You’re a demon, my kicks don’t even hurt you.”

He poked his head out from the closet, looking for anything extra to put on his makeshift bed other than bath towels. “Half demon,” he corrected. “And yes they do.”

She blew out some air from her lungs and padded over towards him, her little feet tip-tapping on the carpet floor. “Inuyashaaaa,” she whined. “If I promise to not kick you, will you please sleep on the bed?”

He swallowed hard, his nerves getting the best of him as he cleared his throat. It took him a second to compose himself before exploding, and then he put on his best face. He raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips with a little fang poking out.

“So you admit that you do kick now. huh?”

Kagome rolled her eyes, immediately walking away from him with her arms crossed against her chest. “You’re impossible!”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he heard her zip and unzip her luggage and heave a sigh. “I’m going to change really quickly. I’ll be right back.”

He grunted in return and quickly changed into some sweats and a loose-fit tee shirt. His makeshift bed was as good as it was going to get, the fluffy comforter folded on the ground providing some back support. There were no more extra blankets, but Kagome always brought an extra for traveling, so he would just use hers to sleep in.

Little sounds were coming out from the bathroom and he knew she was doing her nightly routine of skincare and hair brushing. Out of all the women he has ever met, Kagome was the one always on top of her routines. He knew she had one in the morning and one at night, and the only reason why she was not taking her nightly shower was because of how tired she was after a long travel day.

The sound of clothes coming off and then rustling back on her skin was extremely distracting, so he decided to focus on the interesting floor lamp in the corner of the room. It had a rustic-colored body, with a cream-colored lampshade over the light bulb, and it was as boring as any other floor lamp in existence.

The door to the bathroom clicked open, and the sweet scent that was Kagome hit his nose instantly. It was never enough for him and he was so selfish he always wished for more. The citrusy scent mixed with vanilla was expected after she stayed in the bathroom for so long, but he did not expect his heart to skip a beat when he laid eyes on her in her pajamas. To anyone else, it would just be plain sleepwear, but seeing her in a pink tee-shirt and shorts set was driving him insane. There were little white stars decorating the entire ensemble, and Inuyasha could not believe Kagome could get any cuter.

“Nice PJs, what are you, five?” He teased, if only she knew he was dying inside.

She glared at him in return, “At least my pajamas are more fun. You’re in the same thing you always wear.”

“Kagome, you never see me when I’m going to bed.” He was trying really hard to stop himself from stuttering.

“You’re right, but I see you in the mornings when you’re a grump. You don’t change out of them unless you have somewhere to go.”

“I didn’t come here to get chastised for my taste in sweatpants, Kags.”

She giggled and it sent a jolt of electricity into his system. “That may be true, but when we get back home I’m buying you new pajamas. I’ll get some cute ones for you.”

The half-demon narrowed his amber eyes at her, “You’re gonna get matching onesies ain't ya?”

Shrugging her shoulders and shooting him a cheeky little smile, she skipped to her giant bed and left his question unanswered. Choosing to turn off the lights instead, and leaving the duo in the dark.

Cheeky wench he thought.

There was nothing else for either of them to do but get comfortable in bed to sleep. Everyone in the group had had a long day, and he was sure Sango and Miroku were already asleep in the room across from theirs. He was thankful the universe spared him from having to listen to anything that was not snoring.

“What time do you think we’ll all be up by tomorrow?” He heard Kagome ask from above him.

As he made himself comfortable on the floor with the fluffy pillow Kagome had given him he answered, “Hopefully not at noon. I’ll push you off the bed and bang on their door until yer all awake.”

She laughed, “You’ll get us kicked out if you do that.”

“Yeah?” Well, maybe we can find a hotel that has rooms with two beds.” He grumbled.

“Sharing a bed is not a big deal!” Kagome lied, because to her it would definitely be a big deal.

To the blushing half-demon sleeping on the ground, it was also a very big deal. “Goodnight Kagome.”

Kagome pouted, thankful that he could not see the disappointment on her face. “Fine, don’t be extra grumpy when your back hurts tomorrow.”

They flipped on their sides facing away from each other and attempted to sleep. Kagome was doing well, the giant bed was super comfortable and it would bring her to sleep in no time. Except, she could listen to Inuyasha shuffling over on the floor knowing he was trying to find a comfortable position.

A frustrated grunt had her fluttering her eyes open and groggy from sleep. She wondered how long she had been out, and she would ask Inuyasha but he was still tossing and turning on the floor. She rubbed her eyes and let out a tiny yawn before scooting over to the side to look at him.

At the moment, he was fighting with Kagome’s blanket and was one minute closer to taking the car keys and sleeping inside the car.

“Inuyasha?” he heard her ask. Her voice was soft and sounded small, she looked tired and in much need of sleep.

“Kags? Hey, sorry for waking you.” He said apologetically.

She shook her head with a little smile to show him she felt no animosity towards him. “Yash, you’re uncomfortable. Please come to bed.”

“You say that like it’s easy..” he muttered over his beating heart. She was so tired, and yet here she was still concerned over him and putting his needs before her own.

“It’s not easy.” She replied sleepily.

“What?” He sat up from his floor bed and looked at her. Her eyes were glossed over, and a little smile was painted on her face. “Kags, what do you mean?”

She shrugged awkwardly in her laying down position and yawned again. “I like you, so, it’s not easy for me to tell you that.. but you can’t sleep on the floor.”

Inuyasha’s face heated up instantly, a blush so red and deep that he could make tomatoes jealous of its color. There was no way she was telling him the truth. There was absolutely no way she was reciprocating his feelings right now, because this all seems too good to be true, and nothing this amazing ever happens to him. He was already lucky enough to call her his best friend, but for her to like him back when he had never told her was more than he could have asked for.

Her words processed rather quickly, and Kagome shot up from the bed. suddenly wide awake. There was absolutely no way she just said that to him. Every second that passed caused her to overthink everything, and she felt like her friendship with him was slipping out of her fingers the more time passed.

“I- I mean! Um.. no? Uh. I didn’t say that! Forget what I said!” She laughed nervously, “Haha funny joke!”

Her stuttering was going through one fluffy ear and out of the other because he was still trying to process what she said. He could see her better than she could see him, and her blushing face did not match the denial she was spewing at him.

“Would you laugh too if I told you I felt the same way?” His voice wavered during his confession while his stomach made flips.

“You…” Kagome paused and took a deep breath in a failed attempt to get herself to relax. “You like me too?”

“Yep.”

“..For how long?”

“Since I turned 13 and saw you in that one blue dress at the school dance.” There was no going back for him now.

She remembered that day pretty easily because it was one of her most cherished memories. It was the middle school dance, and everyone was super excited to find someone to go with. Naturally Kagome went with Inuyasha since they were so inseparable, and she wanted to surprise him and go in her new blue dress. That whole night Inuyasha was acting weirder than usual, but she thought it was because of the school dance, not because of her or her blue dress.

“What about you?” His question dragged her out of her thoughts.

“Around the same time as you, except it was after the dance. Yura cut off some of my hair because she was kinda obsessed with it, and mama had to even it out afterward. It was so short, and I hated it! But you came up to me when I was crying and told me I was pretty with my short hair, and then you yelled at Yura the next day.

“That’s when I sort of figured I liked you more than just as my best friend.” She admitted.

The two best friends stared at each other in bewilderment due to their confessions. The words they shared are still floating above them like small clouds. The fear of their feelings staying one-sided was nothing but a fluke now, because their feelings were reciprocated.

“Do you um..” Kagome coughed, “Wanna get off the floor and talk about it some more?” She padded the mattress for emphasis.

He was sure he looked like an idiot with how fast he got up from the carpet. Maybe she did not see it that way, but he sure did feel that way. He felt like he was floating even with his body now firmly on the large bed. He left a small space between them, on the off chance that he was reading into it too much.

It was quiet between them and sleep was still creeping onto them like a predator watching its prey.

“You know I expected my confession to you to be kinda dramatic.” Kagome laughed, “Like, we have a huge fight and we’re yelling at each other from across the room and then you say something stupid and I just kinda scream it out.”

The half-demon raised a brow at her in amusement. “You watch way too many movies, Kagome.”

She pushed on his shoulder in mock offense, “Don’t pretend like you don’t sit there and watch them with me!”

“That’s because you force me to watch them with you. How many times have we seen the Notebook? I lost count!”

“Okay, okay, first of all, we haven’t seen the Notebook since high school. I’ll admit we saw it too often, but not recently!”

“Yeah?” He grinned at her, his fang poking out only adding to the effect he has on her. “Doesn’t mean we haven’t seen similar movies.”

She huffed, “I’m a sucker for romance. You can’t blame me for that.”

Inuyasha watched as her lips turned out into a little pout and she puffed out her chest. Those same lips he has always caught himself staring too hard at, the ones he thought about kissing everyday but knew he never could. Well, here was his chance; and she was sitting right in front of him.

Before he could back out of it, he leaned in closer to her face and stared directly into her dark brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and the little gasp she let out echoed his ears. Her breath fawned over his lips as she realized how close they were to touching. Her eyes flicked from his golden ones to his lips, and then back to his eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked her breathlessly. He was totally enthralled by her and her full, parted lips.

She nodded in anticipation knowing that her voice would fail her if she tried to speak.

His lips were on hers instantly as he drank her in like water. They were as soft and plush as he expected them to be but they were also even more than that. Their lips molded against each other so easily it was strange to think about why he waited so long to do this in the first place. The kiss they shared was sweet and cautious but still electrifying. He did not want to scare her away in case she backed out of it, but little did he know she was savoring this moment between them.

Slowly, they parted ways as they tried to catch their breath. Inuyasha noted how cute she looked with pink-tinted cheeks, kiss swollen lips, and sparkling eyes as she looked at him. He could not stop the grin from showing up on his face after finally being able to kiss the girl of his dreams, the same girl that was a bit too far from him at the moment.

“Come ‘ere.” He slurred, his voice deep and rich with admiration. He extended his arms to her and beckoned her towards him with a blush still on his cheeks.

Without saying a word she crawled over to him and broke the remaining space they had between them. She fit into his lap so perfectly and she never wanted to live a life where she could not do this again. The butterflies in her stomach were eating her alive but she powered through the feeling and laid her head on his shoulder. His strong arms embraced her small figure and pressed her into him while he fought the nerves in his body to relax. This was still extremely new to the both of them, but suddenly they wanted to be as close to each other as possible.

They sat together like this for a few minutes until Inuyasha noticed that Kagome was starting to drift away into sleep again. Even the excitement of a love confession was not strong enough against the pull of sleep.

“Kags,” he whispered. “Let’s lay down. You need to sleep more comfortably.”

She protested, “But I’m comfy here.”

Before she could say anything more he quickly changed their position and laid down on the bed. With one arm still holding Kagome snuggly on him, he used the other to bring up the giant comforter to cover the both of them. He was glad they both decided to leave the lights off during the entire ordeal they had earlier so he did not have to get up and ruin her comfortable position.

Kagome was thankful for the lights staying off too because she was not going to let Inuyasha go even for a second. Miroku and Sango might be extremely confused tomorrow morning when they notice the change in dynamic but that will be tackled when they get to it. Right now, she is way more content with her head on his chest and his hand on her back.

Before she officially dozed off into slumber, she kissed his chin and snuggled into him. With her head on his chest, she could hear the erratic beating of his heart after her surprise kiss. He said nothing as he listened to her breathing steadily with every minute that passed until her grip on his arm went slack.

Inuyasha had not expected so much to happen between them in a span of a few hours. Their dynamic now changed forever. He was aware that they still had more to talk about, but for now, he was going to cherish this moment with her. He kissed her forehead one more time out of pure need and desire before settling in to catch some sleep.

He would never deny sharing the bed with her ever again.

#inukagfluffweek2021 #inukag #inukag fan fiction #inukag fic #ao3 #inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome

[blackicewave]

hot take on the recent chapters

I came up with this while I was on too little sleep & after a friend caught up to the manga, it’s really long and I hope it makes sense - so, enjoy! 

I think what is happening right now, might be Ymir trying to re-establish her former form.

Because Eren has three out of nine titans right now - Attack, Founding, Warhammer. The Founding Titan was the very first of all titans before Ymir started gathering/creating all those other abilities. 

We currently have this written/known about it specifically on the official wiki page:

Its Scream can create and control other Titans, and modify the memories and body compositions of the Subjects of Ymir, but this power can only be used by the royal family under normal circumstances.

According to Marley's Titan Biology Research Society, the Founding Titan is the point where the paths that connect all Subjects of Ymir and Titans cross.

We have been known that only the royal family can properly use it, which is why Eren only managed to use the Founding when touching Dina Fritz's titan (the one that ate his mother) to protect Mikasa after Hannes was devoured and then when coming in contact with Zeke, seeing as he is from royal blood as well. However, the royal family is bound by a vow and the ideology of Karl Fritz - basically, he wanted the Eldians to be locked up and separated from the world because they had been too involved in wars before. So he wanted to protect them, essentially.

The vow is renouncing war to stop Eldia from using the Founding Titan to devastate the world ever again and it possesses the individual to follow the idea. That is why Frieda, even though she viewed the Eldians as sinners, still followed that protocol.

Now, with Grisha devouring Frieda and gaining the Founding Titan and passing it on to Eren, the chain of royal blood inheritors was broken. Which is why, paired with Erens own ideology to go behind the walls and see the world, Ymir zeroed her interest in him as it's seen in the recent chapters.

She herself wasn't of royal blood and being used to fight wars for that king in the backstory most likely built a hatred for humanity in her view - she was viewed as that slave, of which Eren broke her free. He's the only inheritor that hasn't been shaped and controlled by that ideology of King Fritz that she could get her hands on, so she can twist his views or add her own to it in having to destroy the world and humanity in it.

I think that she's using Eren as a vessel to collect all titans. He already has three, and with every other shifter present right now - Armin (colossal), Reiner (armored), Annie (female), Falco (jaw), Pieck (cart) and Zeke (Beast) - she can take them prisoner and force them to join with Eren. 

She basically already has Zeke in her control, having lured him into paths with Eren, and she just took Armin prisoner with another previous titan. Why else would she take him prisoner and bring him to "Eren's ass" as Levi said and separate them by a hoard of powerful, controlled titan shifters if not to ensure they don't get him back until she has taken all of them captive? She knows how powerful Levi and Mikasa are - most likely through Eren's memories. She most likely wants to create a vessel with all nine titans again to merge with Eren fully, maybe even devour him herself, to use her full former strength to get back on humanity and make them pay.

In the first chapter about her backstory it's shown that she was being punished and chased to her "death" because she let the pigs escape - in the last chapter 135, however, in the very first panel, it's shown that she willingly opened the gate to let them escape. She wanted them to run away. Whether or not it was planned that she'd be chased like that and would tumble into the tree trunk is questionable, but I think it has to do with it.

To add to my suspicion of not killing the current inheritors of the nine titans because she needs them later on, look at chapters 114-115 specifically.

Zeke blew himself up in the scene with Levi, and that entirely. He was torn in half. His spine was destroyed and therefore the titan in him "lost" because he had no one to pass it on to. He accepted that he'd die, told himself that. He did die.

But Ymir brought him back. She rebuilt his body and brought him back to life - if she really did that out of pure selflessness and devotion to her people, why didn't she do it with Levi? He's Eldian, too, technically, even if he's an Ackermann.

But Ackermanns are a byproduct and made to protect the royal family, and if we follow my thing right here, then she hated the royal family - she was forced to marry the king and give him offspring, after all. And she was nothing but a child. And she knew how dangerous Levi was - so she planned for him to die while rescuing Zeke, because she had a plan for him while Levi would have only endangered that.

In chapter 110, Zacharias refuses Mikasa and Armin to go see Eren - and promptly dies in an explosion. This might be a hot take, but I think Eren might have ordered someone to do so (because Ymir made him?) - because she needed to split the bond between them. And afterward, Eren escaped. Maybe it was used as a maneuver to get the attention off of him.

In chapter 112 he returns to meet Mikasa and Armin in the table scene - already threatening to transform if they make any move. "I am free. Whatever I do, whatever I choose. I do it out of my own free will."

That's what he says, entirely unprompted really. He proceeds to tell Armin that he's the one being controlled by Bertholt, and I think that mirrors the situation properly. Because it could serve as a parallel that it's not Armin but Eren controlled by "the enemy".

In that chapter, Eren effectively cuts all of the bonds to his friends even though in a few chapters before (when discussing who will inherit his titan once his time is over) he claims to care about them more than anything. And he does. He cares incredibly, he's a very emotional person - but suddenly, all of his emotions are gone. Seems fishy. ‘

He cuts Mikasa off by telling her he's hated her for his whole life, knowing it's her weak spot. He beats Armin up, knowing it's his weak spot because Eren was always there to take hits for him when he got beaten up as a child.

Once again, I think that's Ymir taking control of his memories and using them against him. That, or Eren used those purposefully to get them away from him and out of the danger zone, knowing that he's a time bomb.

In that chapter, it is thickly laid on that Eren "hates" slaves. "Do you know what I hate most in this world? Anyone who isn't free. That, or cattle. Just looking at them made me so angry, now I finally understand why. I couldn't stand to look at an undoubting slave who only ever followed orders."

Maybe, once again, that is Ymir speaking - she was reduced to a slave, and her creation of a titan made to fight was broken down by a vow the Eldian King created. The following inheritors only ever accepted that fate and didn't do anything to break free from it. 

In chapter 130 when Eren tells Historia his plan, he says the following: 

"The only way to put a final end to the cycle of revenge born from hate is to remove that history of hate from this world and bury it in the ground, civilisation and all." - he knows it's a repeating process, possibly because of previous memories handed down to him through the Attack Titan and looking through the royal bloodline with the Founding Titan (first seen when he kissed Historia's hand).

The cycle of revenge born from hate - gotta keep that in mind, cause I think it's very important looking at all of his actions. 

There's this constant reference with his friends. In so many flashbacks, it tells us that Eren wants his friends to have happy lives. To be free. To live long. He adores his friends and loves them with all of his heart. So why tell them he hates them? Why beat them? Why get them involved in all of this? 

Because it isn't him saying those things, and if it is there's more behind it.

In chapter 131 he apologizes to a child for everything he is about to do before it even happens. Maybe because he saw the outcome of it all?

He knows how much he will hurt the world and people, but he does it anyway because he needs this cycle to end.

 I'm not fully sure what the rest of his apology means, talking about how he was disappointed learning that people lived in the outside world. But what I do think is important is the last panel in that chapter, this one:

It views Eren with his eyes shut. Just his head. Usually, whenever he controls his titan, his eyes are open. His own body moves to control the titan. Here it isn't, though. I feel like that symbolizes how it's not him.

We established that he's a very emotion bound person that often rejects logic to follow his heart - he doesn't have his heart here. He can't listen to it. If you are manipulated the source of that manipulation always tries to break your mind first. Rob you of your beliefs and make you follow others. 

The contrast is right then and there - why would he apologies in tears to a child he doesn't know at all and explain his intentions and beliefs when once it happens, and once the child is murdered, he doesn't show any reaction?

Sure, one could argue that he's not conscious after his head was shot off, but who caused the jump and transformation into the titan if not Eren? Possibly Ymir. 

It is shown that the user has to focus on that goal to transform, as in season one with Eren and the well, so either Eren was conscious enough - somewhat doubtful - or Ymir had full control of him then and there already as soon as he stepped into paths.

In chapter 133 Reiner says something important; "If it was me, I'd probably.. want someone else to handle the power of the founder by now. And if I couldn't, I'd want it to be stopped by someone."

There's pretty much a direct contrast once again - are Eren and the Rumbling controlled by someone else? In my opinion, yes. 

Does he want someone else to stop it? He most likely does, why else would Mikasa, Armin, and co be able to move freely? Ymir not so much. 

I feel like he's putting up a resistance to them, which is why she can't control them properly despite them being Eldians. 

They get thrown into paths then, and when they see Eren it's him but his younger version. Around nine or ten, probably.

What I think happened here is that Ymir is keeping him trapped in a younger version of himself - similar to that one time he was wrapped up in blankets in his home and Armin was knocking on the window behind him, trying to shake him awake and conscious again.

She's keeping his conscience reminded of good memories to hold him there and be able to move freely with his body - like I said, she's using him as a vessel to push her actions, her dream, her ideal world and outcome into his hands.

"In order to gain my own freedom, I will take freedom away from the world." Sounds a lot like something Ymir could have been saying, in my opinion. But then again, who knows.

This panel is also important:

Eren, in his young form, is simply standing next to Ymir. And he doesn't do anything. He doesn't react or recognize his friends, and most importantly, he mirrors how Ymir is standing in the exact same way.

She's mirroring herself onto him, projecting her conscience onto his body. It proceeds with "If you want to stop me, then try to stop me from ever taking another breath" -  once again, and I cannot stress this enough, Ymir uses Eren's memories against him.

She knows his friends won't risk him dying. She knows they would do anything to protect him. This is her playing it safe; they won't kill him, ergo they won't stop her from continuing her plan by using him. 

Now in the recent chapter, she's standing on top of his spine and it becomes very clear that she's controlling it all. She's building former titan shifters from his spine, and controlling them to separate the team from Eren's location - and Armin's, most likely even Zeke's. 

She figured out that they won't give up until they found Eren and can talk to him, so she creates that barrier that she's sure they won't manage to surpass. Not with limited supplies. 

When Pieck becomes a danger, she eliminates her by impaling her on that trident - but she doesn't injure her beyond conscience or in a threatening state. She specifically uses Galliard and Berthold against Reiner, and throws those two on him to damage him in his abilities and trick his mind, to manipulate him.

Armin says it himself: "If Eren is only attacking onward like he said he would then this resistance is coming from Ymir." If Eren is attacking onward to follow the goal to end the cycle, then Ymir is the one bringing all the complications. They might work hand in hand, but I do strongly believe that all of the complications are solely on Ymir. Eren never wanted to risk hurting his friends.

In fact, and this is if he is conscious enough to pull any strings right now, I think he might be setting things up to ensure that his friends are the ones that kill him. 

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot season 4 #aot spoilers #snk spoilers #aot 135 #snk manga #aot manga #eren jaeger #first post lets see how this goes #did i crack a code? maybe. #i did say hot take