#Energy Management Programme

[p0orbaby]

The Lion in the Jungle Shows No Shame

summary: you go into labour

warnings: some minor mention of contractions but that’s it

a/n: rich!reader is me; not the rich part, but the so over everyone part

word count: 1.7k

-

The boardroom at the training ground is frigid, an oppressive sort of sterile, painted in a corporate beige so calculatedly devoid of warmth it borders on offensive. The colour has clearly been chosen by a committee, signed off by no less than five department heads, all with the express goal of sapping any ounce of levity from the room. The walls bear only the club’s logo in gleaming gold, catching the light like a freshly polished trophy, austere and daunting. You’re seated at the head of the table in a chair meant to look sleek and modern but which you’ve always thought resembles a throne, albeit a minimalist, joyless one. You take pride in this spot, preferring the vantage point of a monarch observing her court, where each word, each glance can be read as an unspoken directive. A panel of finance officers sits to your left, expressionless and obedient, while the marketing strategists and department heads to your right wait, perched on the edge of their seats, eager to impress, or perhaps, not be dismissed. You’ve made your mind up on all of their fates already, but they don’t need to know that.

You sit back, legs crossed, and let your gaze drift to the person currently holding court—a sponsorship officer droning on about a potential partnership with an energy drink. The whole affair is tedious, but you feign interest, allowing only a flicker of annoyance to register as you twist the cap of your Montblanc in slow, deliberate turns, a small, repetitive comfort amidst the boredom. The sponsorship officer is yammering on about margins and high-profile market share. You nod, keeping your expression intentionally neutral, a carefully cultivated mask of polite detachment.

Nine months pregnant isn’t ideal, but that doesn’t mean anyone gets a pass. If you’re still here, they have no excuse for underperforming. You’ve kept every meeting, every review, every grueling evaluation on schedule, so there’s no room for them to slip up. Your presence is a reminder that leadership doesn’t come with compromises or concessions—not even now. Alexia might have opinions about it, but she knows better than to question your commitment. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Then, there’s a twinge—a faint prickling in your lower back. You tell yourself it’s nothing, just the sort of trivial discomfort you’ve brushed off for weeks now. You shift slightly, adjusting in your seat. Subtle, hardly noticeable. But someone—some unfortunate junior in marketing, possibly fresh out of his MBA programme and clearly untrained in discretion—glances over. He catches it, the flicker of discomfort. There’s the faintest suggestion of concern on his face, a furrowed brow, a hesitant question half-formed before he thinks better of it.

Good.

You meet his gaze and reward him with a smile—half genuine, mostly a warning. He gulps, as if he’s swallowed something sharp, and turns his attention back to his notes.

Then the pain intensifies, sharper this time. It tightens low and fierce, radiating like an overstretched muscle, and you have to will your expression to remain steady, blank, entirely unaffected. Your eyes fixate on the PowerPoint slide, as if by staring hard enough you can dissolve the discomfort into the soulless white glow of the projector. But no, it’s there, settling in like an uninvited guest who intends to stay.

The marketing intern glances up again. This time, he actually manages a look of pity. He’s hardly subtle about it. You almost laugh—almost—except the contraction twists hard enough to force you to hold your breath, and your fingers press a touch too hard against the table.

The finance officer drones on, oblivious, his voice a steady monotone against the quiet hum of the air conditioning. Someone in the corner clears their throat. The sound cuts through the room like a scalpel.

“Ma’am,” he says, hesitant, looking anywhere but at you. “If you’d like to take a break—”

You wave him off with a flick of your wrist. “I’m perfectly fine. Let’s keep this moving, please.” Your words are clipped, precise, the kind that leave no room for doubt. You feel the weight of the room’s collective discomfort settle around you, like fog gathering, thick and stifling. The intern looks at you again, wide-eyed, uncertain, and you catch his gaze with a look so cold he almost recoils.

“Of course,” he mumbles, fumbling with his laptop, frantically tapping keys as if the sheer speed of his typing will save him from your wrath.

The next contraction slams into you with a ferocity that makes your breath hitch. A sharper, hotter pain spirals down your spine, and you grip the edge of the table, harder this time. The finance officer is rambling about revenue share and high-growth potential, but his words are disintegrating, merging into the mechanical hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, until they’re nothing but a dull, meaningless drone.

“Ma’am?” The intern speaks again, tentatively. “Are you sure you’re… alright?”

You turn to him with a look that could shatter glass. “Do I look unwell to you?”

His face drains of colour. “No, of course not,” he stammers. “Just… checking”

There it is again, that shift. It’s slight but palpable, a crack in the air. Power slipping. The assistant to your left, normally so silent and obedient, dares to glance your way with what might be concern. Another staffer coughs, hiding his expression in a notebook, though you can see his eyes darting nervously across the table. They’re all shifting now, uncomfortable, glancing at each other in a silent exchange, a web of tension growing thicker with each stolen glance.

You grit your teeth, willing the pain to dissipate, willing them all to get back to their work and stop—just stop looking at you like you’re some fragile artefact about to shatter.

Then, your assistant, Julian, a man so dependable you’d have trusted him with your life savings, makes the first move. He stands, smoothing his tie, clearing his throat in a way that’s maddeningly self-assured. “I think we need to get someone,” he says, his voice gentle but insistent, like a fatherly reprimand. “Just… in case”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Sit down,” you say, your voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Now”

He hesitates, and the silence stretches, taut as a wire. Then, inexplicably, he defies you. “I’m calling Alexia,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a blade.

The shock is visceral, immediate. You can feel it rippling through the room, see it in the furtive glances darting across the table. You, the unassailable chief, suddenly vulnerable, and worse, defied. You hear murmurs, soft but unmissable, as if they’re collectively holding their breath, waiting for you to explode.

Alexia. Coming here. The idea sends a fresh wave of mortification rolling through you, sharper and hotter than any contraction. Alexia, with her bluntness, her inability to mince words. She’ll walk in here, she’ll see you, and she’ll say exactly what she’s thinking, in front of everyone.

The finance officer clears his throat again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe we should… reconvene another time?” He avoids your gaze, wisely. His voice is tentative, as though he’s testing the air for danger.

“Absolutely not,” you bite out, voice like ice. “We’re finishing this meeting. Right now”

But it’s too late. The tension is too thick, the unease in the room too palpable to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, hesitant, searching, a quiet mutiny blooming under their skin, as though you’re something fragile, a rare beast they don’t quite know how to handle. You grip the edge of the table again, willing the pain to subside, to vanish, anything to regain control of the situation.

Then, the door swings open, and there she is: Alexia, in her training kit, her hair damp with sweat, her eyes blazing with a fury so palpable it sends a ripple of shock through the room. She locks eyes with you, her expression a lethal blend of exasperation and concern. The silence deepens, everyone watching with barely concealed curiosity.

“You’re still here,” she says, each word clipped and loaded, a statement more than a question. It lands like a slap.

You force a smile, though it’s tight and strained. “I’m fine”

She sweeps a gaze across the room, her eyes taking in the faces of your subordinates, each one frozen in various states of unease and fascination. When she looks back at you, her expression is a mix of incredulity and… pity. She almost smirks, as if to say, Look at you now.

“You’re in labour,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear, her voice filled with a quiet, unmistakable fury. “And you’re… what? Leading a meeting?”

You can feel the weight of their stares, the barely-concealed smirks, the disbelief. You, their fearless leader, brought low, bossed around by your own spouse in front of them. You can already hear the whispers, the knowing chuckles that will ripple through the ranks for weeks, the stories that will morph and grow.

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you manage, but your voice is weak, a mere shadow of its usual authority.

“Necessary?” Alexia repeats, crossing her arms. “You think it’s not necessary to go to the hospital when you’re about to give birth?”

Someone stifles a laugh—an intern, no less. You shoot him a look that promises retribution, but it’s lost amidst the pain that surges again, more intense, unrelenting. Then, Alexia’s arm is around you, firm yet gentle, steering you toward the door with a resolve that’s unyielding.

You give one last, desperate protest. “There’s no need to make a fuss. Really, I—”

“Enough,” she says, and her voice is a balm, a force, something that both steadies and infuriates you. Her arm around you is warm, grounding, and for a moment, your frustration melts, replaced by something softer, something you won’t allow yourself to name.

As Alexia guides you out, you catch a final glimpse of the boardroom, your staff looking back at you with expressions ranging from bemused pity to unspoken amusement. You know, with chilling certainty, that this will be the story of the month, if not the year. But with Alexia’s arm wrapped around you, her presence beside you, that irritation begins to fade.

The door closes, sealing you from their whispers, from their smirks. Just this once, you let it go.

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬.

— pairing; michael kaiser x blue lock manager! reader

— summary; in which you visit kaiser in germany when you finally get a break. set in the blue lock manager au.

— warnings; mentions of cheating, fwb relationship (between kaiser and the reader)

— notes; this is the most filthy thing i've ever written and it's bc of that damn leak of kaiser in that damn robe. please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ After Blue Lock’s win against the U20 team, there’s a short downtime; but you’re not so naive to think that this break is a reward for a job well done.

❋ No, Ego’s definitely plotting something.

❋ But while Ego plans the next phase of the programme, the boys are dismissed temporarily, and you’re also granted a short vacation before Ego’s inevitable call summons you back to Japan.

❋ Which is how you find yourself in Germany, lured there by the promise of a good time and the chance to see Kaiser again.

❋ The days pass by in a blur of stolen moments.

Pushing you up against the wall in dark alleys or deserted balconies, kissing you breathless even as you try to pull away to remind him that you’re in public. Late-night drives in his sleek sports car, when the streets are shrouded under the cover of darkness. He’ll park somewhere secluded, away from prying eyes, and the air in the car grows heated, his lips and hands frantic as he presses you against the window pane, fogged up by your mingling breaths and the heat of your bodies. Lazy mornings in his apartment, the smell of coffee filling the air as you lounge about and watch Kaiser get dressed for morning practice. Nights are hot and pass quickly in a haze of lust and need, marked by Kaiser whispering utterly obscene things to you in German, while you cling to him as you come undone, sweaty and flushed and shaking.

❋ There’s a certain thrill to be found in your illicit affair. Avoiding the paparazzi hungry for a glimpse of Kaiser’s personal life, and most of all, his current girlfriend, a beautiful actress with a statuesque body. She isn’t exactly someone he cares for deeply, but the media eats up their picture-perfect romance.

❋ One particular morning (or maybe afternoon — it’s easy to lose track of time whenever you’re with him), you’re curled up in his bed, tangled in silk sheets, your breath coming easy as you sleep, tired out from the previous night’s activities.

❋ The sun filters through the curtains, illuminating the chaos of the bedroom: Kaiser, very much awake, his golden hair a tangled mess, the faint marks on his neck, the angry red scratches down his back, and the smug satisfaction radiating off him in waves.

❋ You’re roused into wakefulness when Kaiser’s phone buzzes insistently from its place on the nightstand, and you look at him through hooded, lazy eyes. Throwing off the sheet to reveal the smooth, toned skin of his still-naked body, his voice dripping with a mix of irritation and curiosity as he answers the call.

❋ When Noel Noa’s voice carries through faintly, you can already guess what’s happening. Kaiser’s instantly on alert: his sharp eyes blazing with excitement, his smile a savage, predatory one as he paces the length of the room, reminding you of a lion on the hunt for prey. It’s the kind of look that promises chaos, and you know instantly: that your boss has made his move.

❋ About time, really.

❋ “Good news?” You ask groggily, stifling a yawn as you prop yourself up on one elbow.

❋ Kaiser saunters over to the bed, that dangerous, electrifying energy still lingering about him. He leans down, brushing a hand through your hair. “Your precious Blue Lock just got a hell of an upgrade, and they want me in on it.”

[driverlando]

Okay okay… hear me out a shy Lando fan wanting to meet him but is too shy to approach. Shes wearing his merch so he approaches her to see if she wants him to sign anything or for a selfie and maybe it blossoms into more?

You’re standing at the edge of the fan zone, the buzz of the crowd around you both exhilarating and intimidating.

The Silverstone Circuit is alive with energy, but you can’t seem to shake off the nerves knotting in your stomach. Your favorite Lando Norris hoodie feels like a protective shield, albeit a thin one.

You’ve admired Lando for years, following his career with fervor, and now you’re finally here, just a few feet away from where he’s signing autographs. Yet, the idea of pushing through the throng of fans feels overwhelming. So, you stay back, content with being in the same space as your hero, even if it’s from a distance.

As you watch him interact with other fans, his easy smile and genuine charm make your heart flutter. You wish you had the courage to step forward, but the words seem to lodge in your throat every time you even think about it.

Then, it happens. Lando’s gaze sweeps over the crowd and lands on you. You freeze, barely daring to breathe. He says something to his assistant and starts walking in your direction. Each step he takes feels surreal, like you’re in a dream.

“Hey, I like your hoodie,” he says, his voice warm and friendly.

You manage a small smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to sign something for you? Or maybe a selfie?” he asks, his tone gentle as if sensing your shyness.

You nod, fumbling with your programme. He takes it with a reassuring smile, signs it with a flourish, and then stands next to you for a selfie. His presence is calming, his demeanor making it easier to breathe.

As he hands the programme back, your fingers brush, and he grins. “There you go. Enjoy the race.”

“Thank you so much,” you say, feeling a bit bolder now.

Lando’s eyes twinkle. “Maybe I’ll see you around later?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Maybe,” you reply, hope blooming in your chest.

As he walks away, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something more.

[robin-evry]

what if!!! hear me out 🙏🙏 yuu was a robot/miku inspired…IT SUCKS but like…miku kinda..yuu mikyuu…😓😓

Sure no worries, no judgement from me, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓 🤖👾🎤

A robot is a machine—especially one programmable by a computer—capable of carrying out a complex series of actions automatically. A robot can be guided by an external control device, or the control may be embedded within. But they can act independently if their creators allow it.

( English is not my first language )

Day 3 : robot!yuu

In a world full of technology and robots. Robot!yuu was the number one idol during that time and was in the number one group of the century ; vocaloid, imagine during the middle of a performance one of their solo concerts, a black carriage arrived and they suddenly shut down.

They turned on when it was an orientation ceremony. Since robot!yuu isn't technically an organic being, they would be put between the ignihyde dorm or ramshackle.

After Crowley gave them a cellphone or asked idia if he could do maintenance to connect them to social media of twisted wonderland, by doing this they started to upload their albums towards the internet and it blew up, people are loving it, it's getting headlines about a new genre of music, and the music getting about stream by millions around the world, Robot!yuu created a genre of music. A revaluation towards the music Industry.

This managed robot!yuu to get rich overnight and allowed them to buy more expensive and to fix the ramshackle dorm more to get more expensive technology for their maintenance, Robot!yuu was planning on giving half of the money to Crowley as a thanks but he only received 1/4 half of the money.

Even tho robot! yuu is an idol, their master builds them with an offensive and defensive system, they have extremely tough metal that is hard to find as well an offensive mode, they have a lot on their arsenal attacks, energy beams, rocket launchers, shield mode, and more.

They are also able to connect to any device and hack it without any issue, they manage to hack ignihyde technology without an issue. And they are waterproof

Robot!yuu also can digest and drink things without an issue, they have a special component on their stomach to make sure they can digest things normally.

During VDC they dominated the competition. Lasers, mist appears and light sticks wave around for their presence. They change outfits depending on the song, it was literally a Miku concert.

Congratulations neige Leblanc is now one of their fans, when going down the stage, he literally ran towards you and started asking a billion of questions with stars amongst their eyes

Vil was a little sour but also amazed about robot!yuu performance, he would ask them for choreography and music ideas from them as well as fashion opinions. He originally wanted robot!yuu to transfer into ignihyde but they refused due to ignihyde has the complete equipment for them or ramshackle.

Pomifiore dorm started to take notes and tried robot!yuu fashion styles. Idia is also a supporter of them and basically a super fan, robot!yuu would come to ignihyde to help him with games or help him maintain ortho, Robot!yuu is basically a sister towards Idia and Ortho.

sorry if it's short, this is by far I could come up anon

[twopoppies]

Soooooo h’s trainer did an article on his workout routines for touring and outside of touring. Brad not mentioned - i think Brad was used either secondarily if his trainer couldn’t travel the whole time or as we all like to think was an Azoff ploy. Maybe Brad was used to give H a little more freedom in starting to come out of the closet, but I’m still not a fan. His trainer though had the kindest things to say about h. This could also start kickoff the rumblings of a new tour

SO interesting. Thibo has been with him for years. I remember him being quoted a number of times. So what the hell was Boring Brad there for? It sure seems like he was just a minder. Maybe a workout partner. He sure set himself up very well having everyone think he was the reason Harry looked so amazing during Love On Tour.

We gained unprecedented access to the star's workout secrets from the man who has worked with Harry for over five years and built his stamina to where it is today - personal trainer Thibo David.

Thibo first met the 'As It Was' singer when he was working on his first album via a recommendation.

[…]

Setting a workout plan on day one of Love on Tour would not have cut it. The sell-out shows ran for 22 months covering 173 shows across seven legs and five continents so adequate physical preparation was essential maintaining physical health and the stamina required to keep up with such a rigorous set.

"Harry's main priorities ahead of a tour are building endurance, maintaining energy levels, and staying injury-free," Thibo reveals. "His tours are incredibly demanding, both physically and mentally, with long performances, travel, and limited recovery time."

The trainer explains that the 'Watermelon Sugar' singer focuses on improving cardiovascular fitness, strengthening his core, and incorporating mobility exercises to enhance flexibility and prevent strain.

"Beyond physical fitness, he places a strong emphasis on mental clarity and stress management, ensuring he's fully present and capable of delivering his best on stage," he adds. "Hydration, sleep, and balanced nutrition are equally essential in his preparation."

Thibo is no ordinary personal trainer. His background as a commando heavily influences the training programme he devises for Harry before, during, and after a tour. He tells us: "Touring often presents unpredictable conditions—whether it’s a lack of equipment, limited space, or tight schedules. The ability to adapt quickly and create effective workouts in unconventional settings was key.

Thibo says that Harry's tour workout looks different from his other work commitments: "For a film, we might prioritise functional strength, agility, and endurance, while for a photoshoot, we'd incorporate elements of conditioning and aesthetic-focused training. Regardless of the goal, the workouts always maintained a balance of mobility, strength, and recovery to ensure Harry remained physically prepared for the demands ahead."

[…]

"We had a lot of fun. One of our traditions was running the stairs of every stadium and arena we visited, turning it into a unique challenge." Making exercise fun for the star is a priority for Thibo and he had a certain trick up his sleeve for lifting the energy before a show.

"Sometimes, we even turned these sessions into team events, with the musicians and crew joining in. This approach not only kept Harry in peak physical condition but also fostered camaraderie and morale among the team," he says.

[…]

"…we focus heavily on energy management, tailoring sessions to complement his performance schedule. Recovery becomes a top priority, with techniques like mobility work, active stretching, and massage incorporated regularly."

A tour coming to a close does not signal the end of Harry's workout plan. This new phase allows Harry to use exercise to recover and rebuild. Thibo explains: "We shift the focus to activities like running, boxing training, and recovery practices, such as cold baths, to help his body decompress from the intense demands of touring.

"The workouts are less about high intensity and more about maintaining his fitness base, regaining mobility, and resetting his energy levels. This phase is also a great time to experiment with new methods and address any imbalances or tightness that may have developed during the tour."

Having worked closely with the former One Direction star, Thibo can attest to Harry's dedication – a trait that makes a personal trainer's life undeniably easier. He tells us: "Harry is an amazing human being—focused, disciplined, and incredibly dedicated to his craft.

"He fully understands the benefits of optimising all aspects of his performance, which makes working with him both rewarding and effective."

Full article and photos here

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sleep

Katrina Gorry x Teen!Reader

Summary: You fall asleep

"Hi everyone," Katrina whispers to the camera," I just thought I would show you all what I'm dealing with."

It's almost pitch black on the screen as she moves her phone to capture the area. She's in a hotel room, that much is obvious. It's one of those hotel rooms that's got a double bed and a single.

She aims the camera at the single bed, where Clara is sound asleep, pressed up against her pillows.

Then, she draws the camera back to the double bed. It shakes for a moment before it focuses on you. You're curled up against Katrina's side, light puffs of breath tickling at her neck.

Her hand strokes down your bed hair as you fidget around for a second before you settle.

"Got the wifey to bed," She says to the camera," And the kiddo."

You fidget again, eyes fluttering open and closed before you're completely relaxed.

When she arrived at Vittsjö, she hadn't quite expected you. Obviously, there was Clare and then later on Charli but then a fourth Australian on the team wasn't what she expected. She expected it even less when she found out from her new teammates that you were the rising star from the youth programme.

"My parents are both Australian," You had told her when she asked," They're here for work. We moved when I was nine." You had then confessed that you rarely saw your parents due to the long hours they worked and throwing you in football had been cheaper than getting a babysitter for you.

It was at that moment that she knew she'd keep you close. You were barely sixteen, full of energy and a desire to prove yourself so Katrina set herself up as the person to reign you in a little bit.

It was hard at first, all you wanted to do was resist and resist and resist until you nearly snapped your ankle at training and, with your parents on a business trip, you got stuck at Katrina's place.

Suddenly, you had a structure in your life and a routine and (most surprisingly to Katrina) a bedtime. It sucked for the first few days with Katrina watching your every move and scolding you when you tried to wiggle away and leave without telling her.

But, somehow, you managed to settle in with and never ended up leaving even when Clara moved in and suddenly you were competing for Katrina's affection with her.

Somewhere along the way, you ended up between them both every day at practice. You were always within arms reach of them both during training and when you inevitably got called up to the Matildas for the World Cup, Katrina felt more proud of you than she ever had before.

You groan loudly as your eyes adjust to the light of Katrina's phone screen. You lift your head.

"Mini," You say," 'S too early to get up." You moved around slightly until you were fully face-planted in her neck. You did that a lot now, always curling into her in some way or another like a clingy little baby.

She just smiles fondly at you, still recording on her camera.

"I don't want to get up," You mutter, refusing to come out from your hiding place as Katrina cards her fingers through your hair, gently working out the knots there.

"You don't have to get up," She assures you," Go back to sleep."

You're still groggy and already half-asleep but you just make sure to check that it's okay. "Not time to get up?"

"Not time to get up," Katrina confirms, easily manoeuvring you like you're a puppet so you can be in a more comfortable position.

It's hardly the first time that you've shared a bed with her (or fallen asleep on her at all as you do that frequently on the coach) and it's easy to get you into a position that will have you sleep through the night.

You don't fight against her at all. You just allow yourself to be moved around and you yawn as you lay more fully against her body, your hand coming up to rest at the collar of her pyjama shirt.

"Night, Mini," You say even though you're almost completely back to sleep again.

Katrina looks at you, shaking her head fondly before turning back to the camera with a smile. She gives it a thumbs up. "The kiddo's back to sleep."

[thefirstknife]

Got through all of the secrets for Vesper's Host and got all of the additional lore messages. I will transcribe them all because I don't know when they'll start getting uploaded and to get them all it requires doing some extra puzzles and at least 3-4 clears to get them all. I'll put them all under read more and label them by number.

Before I do that, just to make it clear there's not too much concrete lore; a lot about the dungeon still remains a mystery and most likely a tease for something in the future. Still unknown, but there's a lot that we don't know even with the messages so don't expect a massive reveal, but they do add a little bit of flavour and history about the station. There might be something more, but it's unknown: there's still one more secret triumph left. The messages are actually dialogues between the station AI and the Spider. Transcripts under read more:

First message:

Vesper Central: I suppose I have you to thank for bringing me out of standby, visitor. The Spider: I sent the Guardian out to save your station. So, what denomination does your thanks come in? Glimmer, herealways, information...? Vesper Central: Anomaly's powered down. That means I've already given you your survival. But... the message that went through wiped itself before my cache process could save a copy. And it's not the initial ping through the Anomaly I'm worried about. It's the response.

A message when you activate the second secret:

Vesper Central: Exterior scans rebooting... Is that a chunk of the Morning Star in my station's hull? With luck, you were on board at the time, Dr. Bray.

Second message:

Vesper Central: I'm guessing I've been in standby for a long time. Is Dr. Clovis Bray alive? The Spider: On my oath, I vow there's no mortal Human named Bray left alive. Vesper Central: I swore I'd outlive him. That I'd break the chains he laid on me. The Spider: Please, trust me for anything you need. The Guardian's a useful hand on the scene, but Spider's got the goods. Vesper Central: Vesper Station was Dr. Bray's lab, meant to house the experiments that might... interact poorly with other BrayTech work. Isolated and quarantined. From the debris field, I would guess the Morning Star taking a dive cracked that quarantine wide open.

A message when you activate the third secret:

Vesper Central: Sector seventeen powered down. Rerouting energy to core processing. Integrating archives.

Third message:

The Spider: Loading images of the station. That's not Eliksni engineering. [scoffs] A Dreg past their first molt has better cable management. Vesper Central: Dr. Bray intended to integrate his technology into a Vex Mind. He hypothesized the fusion would give him an interface he understood. A control panel on a programmable Vex mind. If the programming jumped species once... I need time to run through the data sets you powered back up. Reassembling corrupted archives takes a great deal of processing.

Text when you go back to the Spider the first time:

A message when you activate the fourth secret:

Vesper Central: Helios sector long-term research archives powered up. Activating search.

Fourth message:

Vesper Central: Dr. Bray's command keys have to be in here somewhere. Expanding research parameters... The Spider: My agents are turning up some interesting morself of data on their own. Why not give them access to your search function and collaborate? Vesper Central: Nobody is getting into my core programming. The Spider: Oh! Perish the thought! An innocent offer, my dear. Technology is a matter of faith to my people. And I'm the faithful sort.

Fifth message:

Vesper Central: Dr. Bray, I could kill you myself. This is why our work focused on the unbodied Mind. Dr. Bray thought there were types of Vex unseen on Europa. Powerful Vex he could learn from. The plan was that the Mind would build him a controlled window for observation. Tidy. Tight. Safe. He thought he could control a Vex mind so perfectly it would do everything he wanted. The Spider: Like an AI of his own creation. Like you. Vesper Central: Turns out you can't control everything forever.

Sixth message:

Vesper Central: There's a block keeping me from the inner partitions. I barely have authority to see the partitions exist. In standby, I couldn't have done more than run automated threat assessments... with flawed data. No way to know how many injuries and deaths I could have prevented, with core access. Enough. A dead man won't keep me from protecting what's mine.

Text when you return to the Spider at the end of the quest:

The situation for the dungeon triumphs when you complete the mesages. "Buried Secrets" completed triumph is the six messages. This one is left; unclear how to complete it yet and if it gives any lore or if it's just a gameplay thing and one secret triumph remaining (possibly something to do with a quest for the exotic catalyst, unclear if there will be lore):

The Spider is being his absolutely horrendous self and trying to somehow acquire the station and its remains (and its AI) for himself, all the while lying and scheming. The usual. The AI is incredibly upset with Clovis (shocker); there's the following line just before starting the second encounter:

She also details what he was doing on the station; apparently attempting to control a Vex mind and trying to use it as some sort of "observation deck" to study the Vex and uncover their secrets. Possibly something more? There's really no Vex on the station, besides dead empty frames in boxes. There's also 2 Vex cubes in containters in the transition section, one of which was shown broken as if the cube, presumably, escaped. It's entirely unclear how the Vex play into the story of the station besides this.

The portal (?) doesn't have many similarities with Vex portals, nor are the Vex there to defend it or interact with it in any way. The architecture is ... somewhat similar, but not fully. The portal (?) was built by the "Puppeteer" aka "Atraks" who is actually some sort of an Eliksni Hive mind. "Atraks" got onto the station and essentially haunted it before picking off scavenging Eliksni one by one and integrating them into herself. She then built the "anomaly" and sent a message into it. The message was not recorded, as per the station AI, and the destination of the message was labelled "incomprehensible." The orange energy we see coming from it is apparently Arc, but with a wrong colour. Unclear why.

I don't think the Vex have anything to do with the portal (?), at least not directly. "Atraks" may have built something related to the Vex or using the available Vex tech at the station, but it does not seem to be directed by the Vex and they're not there and there's no sign of them otherwise. The anomaly was also built recently, it's not been there since the Golden Age or something. Whatever it is, "Atraks" seemed to have been somehow compelled and was seen standing in front of it at the end. Some people think she was "worshipping it." It's possible but it's also possible she was just sending that message. Where and to whom? Nobody knows yet.

Weird shenanigans are afoot. Really interested to see if there's more lore in the station once people figure out how to do these puzzles and uncover them, and also when (if) this will become relevant. It has a really big "future content" feel to it.

Also I need Vesper to meet Failsafe RIGHT NOW and then they should be in yuri together.

[shallyouobeyme]

Spider

Miles Morales, Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen + (mentioned) Platonic!Yandere!Miguel x child!reader (GN)

Summary: Deciding to cause some Mayhem, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Pavitr go looking through Miguel's office in his absence, only that what they find there, isn't quite what any of them expected. Who'd have thought Miguel was the type to have a secret Apartment...only that that might not be the worst thing in there...

TW: Kidnapping, dark!content, yandere, threat of violence (not towards reader), MDNI, I do not condone this behaviour, this is just fiction

Day 2 of my Yandere Writetober

After Miles' official introduction into the Spidersociety, he’d loved spending his time there. Not only because he’d be able to hang out with Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr, but also because he felt like part of something bigger. He’d made up an after-school club to his parents and had somehow managed to keep the lie up to this day, which took a lot of studying and doing his best to actually attend class to make his parents trust him.

One afternoon the four spiders were hanging out when Hobie suggested doing something less boring, like breaking into Miguel’s office and checking out his hologram Programm. And while Miles and the others knew that there were some serious consequences if they’d get caught, the energy Hobie had was infectious and they soon found themselves sneaking through his door after making double-sure that Miguel and Jessica were on a mission.

The thrill of sneaking through his office, using his floating platform and the holographic floor to show each other nice or funny memories from their respective universes was just the thing four teenagers needed to have the time of their life’s.

About half an hour had passed and they were strewn around the room looking around. Hobie was probably dismembering and taking components from the different machinery, Gwen was trying to use the holographic floor to look at some classic concerts and Pavitr was playing around with the floating platform. Miles had taken to exploring the shelf’s in one of the corners of the room. Usually the room was so dark that you’d hardly be able to see them which is why

Miles had to use his phone's flashlight to see around. The shelves were filled with some gizmos and gadgets, some files strewn around, some boxes and blueprints. Nothing of particular interest to Miles, or at least nothing until his light hit a picture frame standing about where Miguel's eyes would be level with it.

Given that Miles was not quite as tall as Miguel, he had to rise to his tiptoes to even get an idea of what it depicted, he thought he recognized the image from the video Miguel had showed him when telling him about the dangers of ignoring canon events. It was a picture of his late daughter.

Miles had to swallow hard. He tended to forget what hardship Miguel went through because of how much of a douche he was to him. Something in Miles compelled him to take a closer look at the picture so he reached out to it and tried to take it, but instead of coming down from the shelf, he was only able to pull it slightly into his direction. Then there was a quiet but noticeable ‘click’ before the shelf with the picture on it opened a gap.

"Guys? Uhm, there’s something over here,” Miles called out to his friends who all ran over to him.

“What’s up?” Pavitr asked as he looked around, without seeing anything.

“Well, I think this shelf- let me just-“ he stuttered as he took a hold of the side of the shelf where the gap had opened and pulled.

“Whoa, a secret room? Cool,” Gwen mumbled in awe and slight confusion.

“I knew that bloke had somethin’ to hide, he ain’t right kosher, y’know,” Hobie shrugged and was the first to take off into the secret passage, the other three hot on his heels.

Miles wasn’t sure what he had expected to hide in the secret room, but he was sure it had been anything but what they found there.

Behind the shelf was what seemed to be a full apartment, with a nice open concept as Pavitr noted offhandedly, which in itself wasn’t so strange, after alle, maybe Miguel just liked his privacy.

Or at least that was what the four would have thought if it wasn’t for the plushies, toys, coloring books and other children’s stuff strewn throughout the different sections of the big room.

“Maybe Miggy over here is a bit more kinky then we gave ‘im credit for,” Hobie joked as he picked up a princess coloring book from the kitchen table and leafed through it.

“I don’t know, something about this seems weird, right guys?” Gwen looked around and received nods from Miles and Pavitr, “Maybe we should leave…”

Miles wanted to agree, wanted to get out of there and act like they’d never been there, but his stupid spider-senses had to start going off the charts right that second as he heard something from behind one of the three doors leading out of the room, the only door with more locks on it then on an average New Yorker apartment door.

“You guys feeling that?” Pavitr asked, confirming Miles’ fear that he wasn’t the only one whose senses were acting up.

Not bothering to answer, Hobie and Gwen were the first ones to go towards the door, quickly followed by the other two.

Hobie had already taken hold of the door on both sides ready to take it off its hinges when Gwen stopped him.

“If we break it, there’s no denying what we did anymore, maybe we should try this differently. These locks seemed to be electric, maybe we could overload them to reset them or something.”

Miles quickly realized that with ‘we’ Gwen meant him so he pushed himself to the front and got ready to electrify the locks.

A few seconds later there was a shrill beep and a click and with high anticipation, Miles took hold of the door handle and… It opened without problem.

With bated breath, he opened the door.

“Daddy?” a soft, quiet voice, doubtlessly that of a child, called out to them and all of them stood there like frozen as they stared towards the small kid sitting on a fuzzy blue rug surrounded by dolls and plushies. The child tilted their head, looking at them in confusion.

“Hi, are you friends with Daddy?” they asked, but none of them were in the mental state to answer them, all too shocked.

Suddenly a voice called out from speakers somewhere in the room.

“Y/N go into your room immediately please,” a voice - all of them recognized it as Lydia’s - said and after a slightly disappointed ‘okay Aunt Lyd’ from the child they left through a sliding door in the wall opposite of the four spiders which immediately closed (and probably locked) after them.

“Miguel has been informed of your intrusion, I’d advise you to take your leave immediately, and if you enjoy your heart beating I’d tell you not to mutter a word of this to anyone, now leave.”

With a heavy heart and many questions the four ran out of the secret apartment, making sure to close the shelf after them, before they disbanded and returned to their original universes. All of them couldn’t get the child out of their head, but especially Miles couldn’t help but feel he’d seen them before.

Only when he was lying in bed that evening mulling over the events of that day again did he remember.

Months ago his father had taken one of his files home with him, a missing persons report, a little child had disappeared right out of their childhood bedroom without any hint as to what or who had taken them.

In the upper corner of the report was a picture of a smiling toddler with an white area below where their name was…Y/N.

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere Characters Had Real-World Jobs (But Not The Obvious Ones)

In this list, I wanted to try to give Cosmere characters jobs in our world while avoiding the jobs that would be the most obvious picks--like, for example, the real world equivalent of whatever their canon job is.

1. Kaladin: Professional Football Player

It's a dangerous job that Kaladin's dad would scoff at, but the other kids in town think it's really cool and also the recruiters are coming through town and, I mean, he's really good at football.

2. Lirin: Public Defender

If we avoid the obvious job (doctor), then Lirin still needs a job where he is doing good, but it's pretty thankless and the general public are suspicious and think he might actually be evil somehow. So I figure: public defender. He's highly educated, helping people who need it, and just getting nothing but grief as a result. Worst of all, his smart son wants to be a FOOTBALL player!

3. Marsh: Masseuse

I feel like people who are good at hemalurgy know about the body and its pressure points and things like that. And frankly, "acupuncturist" felt too on the nose.

4. Shallan: Park Ranger

Shallan HATES to be confined, so no way she's going into an office job. Plus, she likes nature and animals, but I'm trying to avoid the more obvious jobs (like botanist or ecologist). It's just too bad that Shallan is SO bad at staring a campfire, though.

5. Navani: Wedding Planner

Navani is VERY good at managing people and events, as seen when she had to manage everything while Gavilar was off plotting. She's also very organized and literally invented wristwatches. So I think she's be very good at this job.

6. Elend: Grad Student

This one may be too obvious, but I figure something like "politician" or "philosopher" are more obvious. But to me, Elend has major grad student energy.

7. Nale: Insurance Adjuster

Nale is a cop, of course, through and through. But if he wasn't a cop, then he'd need some other job where he uses the rules to screw people over. So I see him as, like, an evil insurance guy who's denying people medical coverage because the company wants him to.

8. Blackthorn-Era Dalinar: Debt Collector

If flashback Dalinar couldn't make a living mowing people down in battle and had to find a less obvious job, then I could see him being the guy to hunt down people and demand money they don't have. He doesn't really care about the money. He just likes the hunt.

9. Adolin: eSports Player

It's a job where you can head-to-head battle people and your dad is vaguely puzzled and thinks you should be doing something more important with your life.

10. Lightsong: Customer Service Agent

In canon, Lightsong's job is to face down a huge line of people and tell them "no" in response to them asking for something they want. So, I mean, I feel like that's equivalent to one of those shitty customer service jobs where you're not really allowed to help people (until, of course, Lightsong goes rogue and does start helping people, but that's another story...)

11. Stormfather: Bus Driver

He has his route, and he's not deviating from it. And if you miss the bus, he's not stopping. He's not going back. You can try to run, but you will not catch up to him.

12. Tress: Mechanic

As a Sprouter, Tress had to figure out how each of the spores worked and how to use them. I just feel like she'd be good at diagnosing issues in machinery and then fixing them.

13. Steris: Programmer

She's precise, she's smart, she likes rules. I think coding would suit her.

14. Yumi: Waitress

She could stack the plates SO high.

15. Marasi: Investigative Reporter

Which, honestly, is what I wish she had been rather than being a cop like in canon. I think it would suit her! She'd get to research, investigate, find the truth...

16. Kelsier: Motivational Speaker

He tells you about the power of smiling no matter what, so that you are never defeated. He tells you to carry something small, some memento or photo, to help you find your motivation. You tells you that no goal is out of reach--you just have to find the right people and the right steps to move forward. And he tells you that the most important thing is to survive.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So for AEIWAM, how does the whole Ukitake thing work? I’m still fuzzy on how it was in the manga (and that’s not even touching the ‘epilogue’/Echoing the Jaws of Hell why are these arc names like this) but wasn’t he essentially reverse faith healed-slash-possessed for death? I see you keep mentioning gods so like- what does that whole situation make him?

I need you to imagine a Self-Propogating Cryptocurrency Mining Computer. Whenever it's hardware starts to burn out, it creates a little man to build it a new machine and port it's memory over, keeping the machine alive and solving equations.

In An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, that's God.

I may need to back up.

If you're not familiar with how Cryptocurrency Mining works, essentially, a computer thinks very, very hard about how to solve an extremely complicated equation, and when it solves it, it gets a little bit of money (or it gets a receipt saying that it has money that uh. nobody will accept, because the money aspect is a scam but the math, at least is real).

Anyway, thinking very, very hard like that runs through the computer's hardware- it's especially hard on the graphics cards. So eventually, if it want to keep solving equations, it needs new hardware. But a computer can't replace it's own parts, and this Ultra-complex, reality-generating God-computer is no different.

So when it starts to get old and degraded, the God-Computer does a neat little trick: it builds itself a programmer. That programmer learns all about the God Machine and how it works and the way it's powered- it moves souls through three planes of existence- each enormously complicated question is representative of the shape of a lifetime- each time a soul completes it's life and is reborn, the God Computer gets a little burst of extra energy. The larger and more complex the soul and longer and richer lifetime, the more energy the God Computer gets. So for the last millions of years, many, many generations of God-computer have made the universe richer and more complicated to generate larger and more complex souls to power themself (themselves?) further.

The programmer learns all about how the God-Computer works, and sets about building the next Generation of God-Computer to keep the universe running.

Due to a slight miscommunication, the programmer is colloquially known as the "Soul King" this time around.

Anyway, the Soul King was doin' his thing, when he happened to start chatting with a cool guy online and agreed to meet up with him. And it was fun! They hung out, Soul King showed him the true nature of reality, they stayed up late eating junk food and talking bullshit, good times. Later, The Soul King's cool friend from the internet said he had some other friends who wanted to meet him, and Soul king thought "BALLER. SLUMBER PARTY!!!" and told everyone to come on over!

-and then the new guys beat the shit out of Soul King's buddy and dismembered the Soul King for parts to sell as part of an organ-harvesting scheme!

Whoops.

Now, Soul King's buddy DID manage to get up and stop one of the organ thieves, the guy absconding with his hands, and tackled him off the Balcony. One of the psuedo-god hands (the one with the power of stagnation) fell into the Spirit World,took the name "Mimihagi" and became a minor kami because he's really bad at this Witness Protection thing.

Eventually, some parents with an extremely sick kid came to the hand's shrine and asked him to save the kid, and Mimihagi went "Well, I can't cure him, but I can hang out in his body for the next few centuries and prevent his disease from getting worse with constant effort?" and they said "...Please?" and Mimihagi said "Yeah OK.

-And ever since then Ukitake has had the left hand of The God Machine's dead repairman living in him and (mostly) stopping his super-tuberculosis from getting worse, like a benevolent tapeworm!

:)

The God-Machine is still dying this whole time, BTW. Might want to do something about that.

(the best part is, that of the three-to-five-and-a-half living pieces of the Soul King, Mimihagi is actually probably the least weird and definitely sanest of them)

[solarpunkbusiness]

Leading Belize’s renewable energy movement within indigenous communities are three Maya women who are bringing solar power to their villages, transforming lives and fostering sustainable change.

Since 2016, Florentina Choco, along with sisters Miriam and Cristina Choc from the Toledo District, have been bringing solar power to remote, off-grid areas. Through the Small Grants Programme (SGP), managed by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), they underwent six months of solar energy training at Barefoot College International in India.

Cristina added that during installations, they teach local women how to install and maintain solar systems. “We train them… how to take care of their system,” she said.

As they gained experience, the women realised their skills were underutilised in their own villages. They are currently working in six villages, including Yalbac in the Cayo District.

[lizardperson]

burn it down, baby, burn it down

[on ao3]

fandom: saints row 4 characters: female boss/asha odekar rating: m cw: canon-typical violence (so, a lot, sorry 😬), strong language wc: 646 prompt: #fff293 unbridled rage for @flashfictionfridayofficial

---

A direct hit from the Zin tank threw her against a wall. It only took a moment to get her bearings again, and she answered by blasting a condensed ball of energy into their direction. The resulting explosion caused a chain reaction that blew up the tank along with many, many random cars. It was quite the firework.

But Nat needed more.

She sprinted up the wall of a nearby highrise apartment building, then jumped off the roof, slamming into the ground. The resulting nuclear blast took out everything in the radius of at least a block around her.

Still not enough.

Sirens from afar, coming closer, and then the familiar sound of a portal materializing right behind her. Good, more things to kill.

She had no idea how long she had been going like this by now - hours probably. Killing aliens, blowing shit up, raging. What did it matter anyway, nothing here was real. Not the buildings, not the people. All just a fucking simulation, barely even resembling the real Steelport.

The real Steelport didn't exist anymore. Earth didn't exist anymore.

And one day, Zinyak would pay for that.

But right now, she just needed to blow off steam - at least one thing this damn simulation was good for. Thank the programmers for including those super powers.

Nat hurled another blast in the direction of the freshly spawned enemies. She'd never get tired of watching them explode like that. A single Zin was still standing, shooting at her, and she soaked up the few laser zaps like it was nothing. Sprinting towards him, she tackled him to the ground and started punching. Left, right, left, right, blow after blow right into his stupid face. He didn't take too many hits before dying, but even then she didn't stop, just continued punching, putting all her rage and anger and hate into her fists.

Zinyak would pay for this. They all would. Every single one of those alien bastards would pay.

"Boss."

A voice behind her tried to get her attention, but Nat continued bashing the alien's head into a pulp.

"Fuck off, I'm busy."

Asha stepped up to her, composed as always, not a single hair out of place, arms crossed in front of her chest. "I think you've had enough for today."

"I said I'm busy!" Nat yelled without interrupting her current activity.

A sudden force yanked her off the dead alien and pressed her against a wall, immobilized. Fucking telekinesis.

"And I said I think you had enough," Asha calmly stated, completely unimpressed by the angry glares shooting in her direction.

"Bitch, you let me down right now," Nat demanded, struggling against the forcefield.

Asha stood right in front of her, looking her up and down. "And then what, Natalia? You continue your little exercise here for another few hours?"

"Guess we all have our coping mechanisms. And I don't see how that's any of your fucking business anyway!"

"It's bad for the morale of the rest of the team."

"I'm sure they'll manage," Nat shot back, still glaring at Asha. Who did that woman think she was, talking down to her like that?

"You really need to get a grip and calm the hell down." With that helpful suggestion, Asha dissolved the forcefield and let her loose again.

"Make me."

Asha frowned, staring at her silently for a few seconds, and Nat almost expected her to attack any moment now. Bring it. Maybe a little one-on-one sparring match would help with the blowing-off-steam, it sure sounded more exciting than killing simulated aliens.

Nat suddenly found herself pressed against the wall again - this time without super powers - getting kissed very forcefully. Very unexpected, but very nice.

"Well, that works too, I guess," she murmured breathlessly after they separated again, and pulled Asha into another kiss.

Maybe it was time for a new coping mechanism.

[enbycrip]

I’ve not been posting about various stuff I’ve been doing over the last few weeks for various reasons - partially sheer exhaustion, partially a sort of weird holdover of “not wanting to go on about things because that’s performative” thing, partially that, tbh, much of the time when I’m posting I’m so *tired* that dragging complicated things about my own life out is so emotionally taxing and difficult that posting about them feels like a spoon hit I don’t have the capacity available to absorb.

But that’s probably not helpful. So here we are. Post One is going to be about the rehab programme because that’s been one of the main focuses of my time and energy since November.

I’m in the last week of my initial free 12-week chronic joint pain rehab programme at Nuffield Health, which has meant free membership there with specific classes which include exercise and also a whole bunch of advice on things that are supposed to affect pain. I’ve found it - complex but overall positive?

- It’s a rolling programme so when I first joined I was with a whole bunch of older women near the end of their programmes. That was really difficult for gender reasons, feeling maybe this wasn’t aimed at me at all etc etc. It became much more positive as they rolled off and a much more diverse group of folk in gender and age rolled on with me, and I’m honestly going to miss my peers in this. I’m still the youngest in the group, and I’ve not talked about gender in it because honestly that’s spoon-heavy, but it’s been a lot less difficult genderfeels-wise than I initially feared. I have been wearing my pronoun badges at least. I’d love some more Pride and non-binary-specific gym gear - please feel free to link any you know out there from ethical companies; I suspect a lot of it may be beyond my price range, but saving up exists.

- My initial health check showed I had put on a *lot* more weight than I thought, so I’ve been doing my best to utterly revamp my diet and how much sugar I was eating in particular as a maladaptive way to manage fatigue. My next health check is on Thursday after my last class and I’m trying *really* hard not to hope that I’ve lost tons of the weight because a) weight is not an indicator of health or worth b) I’ve been doing a LOT of weights work over that time and it’s entirely possible I’ve acquired a lot more muscle. This would be a very good thing. Trying to manage all of this and getting to a better way of eating with the old ED demon on my shoulder has been *complex* AF tbh. I do actually really need to thank person-centred therapy, many years in the disabled community in general, and FatDoctor and other people in the fat-positive community, esp the trans part, for this not fucking up my head more than it has. I should probably drop my old therapist a personal email to thank her for the help she was to me on this - is that a weird thing for an ex-patient to do? Does that cross boundaries?

- The “general advice on things that are supposed to reduce pain” bit was a barrier for me because it brings up so much trauma about pain clinics and other medical BS about pain over the last decade plus. The fact that it’s ten minutes before exercise has helped; not enough time to build up anger and then physical activity to release it. It’s also helped that we’ve had a lot of group discussions and almost everyone there is chronically ill or chronically injured so it’s been sharing experiences of the genuine systemic life problems that come with that and a *lot* of discussions about how unhelpful the wider medical system has been. Patient solidarity is helpful. Who’d have thunk it? 😜

- I’ve had to *keep* fighting my own “ADHD extremes” personality tendencies all the way through this, as I have through much of the last decade plus. I am *bad* at not throwing myself at things I’m trying to really engage with, y’all. I am *bad* at sensible moderation. It’s not how my brain works at *all*. But I’ve only had one sublaxion and one POTS collapse in the entire programme, and I am fucking proud of myself for that.

- That notwithstanding, this has been A Lot, esp as one of the classes is on a Thursday, the day I see my brother. I don’t talk about him on social media a lot because he is nonspeaking and can’t consent to me sharing stuff about him, but getting weekly contact with him again has been incredibly important to me, and to him, from what he has communicated to me. It’s also high-energy and sometimes exhausting, when he is having a particularly high-energy day, or a tough day, and means cleaning up afterwards. Given how often much less high-energy social contact just kicks the shit out of me, I’m really proud that I’ve missed very few days with him, but it has been *exhausting*. I have spent every Wednesday and most weekends since starting the programme entirely in bed, just crawling to the bathroom, and even with that I am *still* just bone-deep exhausted right now, though I think some of that is still fallout from the *great* weekend away we went to for a friend’s 50th a fortnight ago, of which I *still* spent much too much time in bed.

- I think that, no matter how hard I tried not to, I let myself somewhat entertain the idea that this programme might utterly transform my health if I put enough work into it. Because no matter how hard I try not to, it’s *difficult* not to get sucked into the prevailing medical orthodoxy about fatigue disorders that a big part of the fatigue is “deconditioning” and fixing that will fix the fatigue. Instead, I’m doing a thing that is genuinely helping my mobility but any effect on fatigue levels is very much on the “increasing” scale than otherwise, despite the level of pacing involved (which is the only thing that lets me do anything at all). So after the classes end I am going to be in the space where I need to keep on doing this to keep the mobility improvements and the long-term effects on my health (particularly re reducing my huge osteoporosis risk) and that is going to be *tough*. Some of it will help, esp re the flexibility to pace around other things I’m doing, but making sure I *keep* doing this when it’s going to mean keeping on having to ask my dad for lifts to the gym and the level of exhaustion involved is going to be *tough*. Going to do my best to keep up with other group people there in the hope that will help.

- Doing this at a time when, frankly, Labour is increasing attacks on disability support is extra-scary. I am *really* afraid any improvements in mobility etc will be read as “well you’re cured then” as opposed to “you’re improving prospects for your longer term health and increasing your capacities in certain ways but the work it takes to do and maintain that has at best huge knock-on effects on the energy, including the cognitive energy, available to do anything else with”. The proposed cuts to Access To Work mean any work I can ever get is even more going to have to be remote, which is scary too. The way disability is continually viewed in such zero-sum, capitalist-centered ways continues to just sap my energy across the board, and I’ve got so little to start with.

[doveshovel]

The SSO mech AU is heavily eva, paci-rim and ac6 inspired but. random au lore stuff I think about sometimes below :)

KEEPRS is this universe's specialized defense organization, based in Jorvik, whose purpose is to protect the world in the event of Garnok's revival (NERV style)

Dark Core is a private mercenary company, in partnership with GED (a mech engine/generator manufacturing company with a monopoly on energy systems worldwide).

Pilots are chosen through a scouting/testing process. If they pass, they undergo rigorous mental and physical training. A neural connection puts a great deal of strain on the pilot's mind and body, and they must be able to withstand it. KEEPRS has a lower turnover rate, as their training methods are slower, but have fewer immediate health risks. Dark Core has a very high turnover rate, relying mainly on a few gifted pilots with a natural aptitude that can be trained and mobilized as quickly as possible. Those who fail are disposed of. They pay exponentially better, but are a very dangerous employer.

AIDEEN is a KEEPRS system designed to support pilots, connected directly to their brain and nervous system. Her primary functions are to monitor vitals, manage life support systems, and provide guidance. Each pilot's AIDEEN is slightly different, tailored to create as much cohesion as possible between pilot and mech. Different companies have their own variants with different names for a system with similar functions. Hunter's AIDEEN is malfunctioning, and has gained sentience. With a will of her own, she's capable of breaking artificial limits set by her programmers, but keeps her pilot's actions in line with her own interests.

Kembell and Drake are both handlers for GED/DC mercenaries. Similarly, Elizabeth and Rhiannon are KEEPRS main handlers.

The Bobcats and Bulldogz teams are both participants in professional level mech-fighting coliseum tournaments.

[askzloyxp]

how do you find and keep motivation to create in the *gestures broadly*? genuinely need some help now, three gift fics won't write themselves

Well, first and foremost I have to tell you, that 3 whole gift fics is a whole lot of writing and I admire your committment! Hope you can make it and I'm sure your friends will appreciate their presents!

As for your question, I hate to admit it, but through my depressoin over the past two years, the primary two driving forces behind anything I do have been pretty much just sheer raging spite and the kinda "this would be insanely cool if I did this" factor.

There's no response I really have to the current geopolitical mess other than "I won't let this f***ng stop me", and though it feels really wrong to draw energy from anger in creative endevours, it gets me to my desk and opening the programms. From there just the joy of making something awesome takes over.

I do hope this helps: art is amazing, and no one but you can make this particular art. And it would be insanely cool if despite the absolute STATE you are in, you still went and made it. Like, don't martyr yourself over it: take your meds, eat your snacks, get all the rest you can and manage your resources. But also it would be really cool to write those three gift fics. The world is terrible right now. What we do makes it just a tiny bit better.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Hello,

I am the Timelord currently responsible for the human who wanted to clone themselves.

I only noticed what was happening after the 54th clone. That alone is already a ridiculous amount, so you will understand my appall after discovering from the chronology of this exchange that your "humanon" wasn't even halfway done. Do you have the slightest idea of how difficult it is to deal with clones? A whole 54 of them?

Of course you don't, you must be no more than 30 years fresh from the Academy.

Frankly, I expected more from a trustworthy channel like yours than humoring an idiotic question such as "how many humans to overcome a Timelord". Surely you must have seen where it would lead, given the level of naivety displayed by your interlocutor and the instrumentation they had access to? Were you perhaps curious to see how much damage a human in a TARDIS could do?

Well, I invite you to satiate that curiosity with your own companion, in your own ship, provided you even have either.

Dear Esteemed Time Lord,

We sincerely hope this message finds you in good health and minimal temporal disarray. While we understand and sympathise with your situation, please allow us to point out some details you may have missed.

How Did 54 Clones Escape Your Notice?

One cannot help but wonder how a Time Lord of your esteem managed to overlook the creation of 54 clones. Surely, the repeated usage of advanced cloning technology with frequent energy drains and the sudden multiplication of your human companion might have warranted at least a casual glance away from your VDU? Given your unparalleled intellect and finely honed observational skills, it is indeed a mystery.

Access to Advanced Technology

Your human's free access to such sophisticated technology raises further questions. How did they acquire it, and what supervision did you offer? Might we suggest a review of your security protocols, as it appears that humans' boundless curiosity, combined with the free availability of your advanced instruments may have caused this.

Hypotheticals and Theoreticals

The Gallifrey Institute for Learning frequently explores hypotheticals and theories, providing a fertile ground for intellectual exploration and academic debate. However, we cannot be held accountable for the literal and misguided application of these thought experiments by any Time Lord or their companions.

Our Disclaimer

We must refer you to our standard disclaimer:

The information provided by the Gallifrey Institute for Learning is intended for educational purposes only. We do not accept any responsibility for information from the programmes being used to harm or harass any Gallifreyans, no matter how irritating or destructive they might be.

We trust this clarifies our position and sincerely hope that your cloning dilemma is resolved. Perhaps consider creating a small 5-a-side football league?

Hope that helped! 😃

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