#Facility Foot Care Program

[01micasa]

Mi Casa Footcare was founded in 2019 with a singular vision – to provide exceptional, personalized foot care services that enhance the well-being and comfort of our valued clients. We are proud to be a local, family-owned Foot Care Nursing practice in Maple Ridge, BC, committed to delivering expert foot care with a personal touch.

[fatehbaz]

Today, as you read this [...], there are almost 2 million people locked away in one of the more than 5,000 prisons or jails that dot the American landscape. While they are behind bars, these incarcerated people can be found standing in line at their prison’s commissary waiting to buy some extra food or cleaning supplies that are often marked up to prices higher than what one would pay outside of those prison walls. [...] If they want to call a friend or family member, they need to pay for that as well. And almost everyone who works at a job while incarcerated, often for less than a dollar an hour, will find that the prison has taken a portion of their salary to pay for their cost of incarceration. [...] These policymakers and government officials also know that this captive population has no choice but to foot the bill [...] and that if they can’t be made to pay, their families can. In fact, a 2015 report led by the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, Forward Together, and Research Action Design found that in 63 percent of cases, family members on the outside were primarily responsible for court-related costs [...].

Rutgers sociology professor Brittany Friedman has written extensively on what is called “pay-to-stay” fees in American correctional institutions. In her 2020 article titled, “Unveiling the Necrocapitalist Dimensions of the Shadow Carceral State: On Pay-to-Stay to Recoup the Cost of Incarceration,” Friedman divides these fees into two categories: (1) room and board and (2) service-specific costs. Fees for room and board -- yes, literally for a thin mattress or even a plastic “boat” bed in a hallway, a toilet that may not flush, and scant, awful tasting food -- are typically charged at a “per diem rate for the length of incarceration.” It is not uncommon for these fees to reach $20 to $80 a day for the entire period of incarceration. The second category, what Friedman refers to as “service-specific costs,” includes fees for basic charges such as copays or other costs for seeing a doctor or nurse, programming fees, email and telephone calls, and commissary items. 

In 2014, the Brennan Center for Justice documented that at least 43 states authorize charging incarcerated people for the cost of their own imprisonment, and at least 35 states authorize charging them for some medical expenses. More recent research from the Prison Policy Institute found that 40 states and the federal prison system charge incarcerated people medical copays. 

It’s also critical to understand how little incarcerated people are paid for their labor in addition to the significant cut of their paltry hourly wages that corrections agencies take from their earnings. Nearly two-thirds (65 percent) of incarcerated people work behind bars. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, those who work regular jobs in prisons such as maintaining the grounds, working in the kitchen, and painting the walls of the facilities earn on average between $0.14 and $0.63 an hour. [...] Arkansas and Texas don’t pay incarcerated workers at all, while Alabama only pays incarcerated workers employed by the state’s correctional industry. [...]

For example, if someone sends an incarcerated person in Florida $20 online, they will end up paying $24.95. [...]

Dallas County charges incarcerated people a $10 medical care fee for each medical request they submit. In Texas prisons, those behind bars pay $13.55 per medical visit, despite the fact that Texas doesn’t pay incarcerated workers anything. Texas is one of a handful of states that doesn’t pay incarcerated people for their labor. 

In Kentucky’s McCracken County Jail in Paducah, it costs $0.40 a minute for a video call; this translates into $8.00 for each 20-minute video call. [...] For those who need to use email, JPay charges $2.35 for five emails for people in the Texas prison system ($0.47 an email). [...]

People in Florida prisons pay $1.70 for a packet of four extra-strength Tylenol and $4.02 for four tampons. And with inflation, commissary items are priced higher than ever. For example, according to the Kentucky Center for Investigative Reporting, incarcerated people in Kentucky experienced a 7.2 percent rise in already-high commissary prices in July 2022. Researchers noted that a 4.6-ounce tube of Crest toothpaste, which costs $1.38 at the local Walmart, is $3.77 at the prison commissary. [...]

In Gaston County, North Carolina, incarcerated individuals who participate in state work release may make more than the state’s $0.38 an hour maximum pay, but they pay the jail a daily rate based on their yearly income of at least $18 per day and up to $36 per day. In fact, Brennan Center research indicates that almost every state takes a portion of the salary that incarcerated workers earn to compensate the corrections agency [...].

These room and board fees are found throughout the nation’s jails and prisons. Michigan laws allow any county to seek reimbursement for expenses incurred in relation to a charge for which a person was sentenced to county jail time -- up to $60 a day. Winnebago County, Wisconsin, charges $26 a day to those staying in its county jail.

---

Text by: Lauren-Brooke Eisen. “America’s Dystopian Incarceration System of Pay to Stay Behind Bars.” Brennan Center for Justice. 19 April 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[djuvlipen]

Every hour, a woman in Afghanistan loses her life during childbirth

It was midnight when another wave of pain struck. Begum, 35, thought it was finally time for her child to be born, but there were no signs of the baby coming.

“I woke my husband and told him to get a car to go to a hospital. He rented one from our neighbours,” Begum said.

The mother of four travelled while in labour from Ridkhord area in Badakhshan’s Zibak district to the Shahid Ustad Burhanuddin Rabbani Hospital in the provincial capital Faizabad.

Her fifth child, struggling to be born, did not survive the journey.

Begum lived, but many mothers in similar circumstances do not.

Abdullah is currently waiting to hear if his wife will survive their child’s birth.

He and his wife, residents of the province’s Yafta-e-Bala area, came on foot to the central hospital in Faizabad when their baby was due to be born.

“In Yaftal-e-Bala, there are four health centres. However, because of inadequate medical facilities and no doctor available, we had to walk for four or five hours to Faizabad for delivery,” Abdullah said.

“We encountered many challenges along the way, but I couldn’t do much until we reached the hospital.”

Doctors said that because his wife had walked a long distance, it led to severe bleeding and possibly harmed the baby in the womb.

“The mother’s condition is not good and there is little hope for the baby to survive,” Abdullah said doctors told him.

Afghanistan’s deadly statistics for mothers

According to the latest World Health Organization (WHO) report, each day 24 mothers and 167 newborns in Afghanistan lose their lives due to complications in pregnancy and childbirth.

It’s the highest rate in the world.

“The condition of mothers is highly alarming, particularly for those who travel from remote areas and cover long distances,” a specialist at the Shahid Ustad Burhanuddin Rabbani Hospital, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said.

Having worked in Badakhshan for 22 years, the doctor said that the shortage of healthcare services, especially in remote areas, leads to significant health risks for women.

He recalled a patient who arrived at the hospital from Darwaz district about a month ago after travelling for three days.

“Due to the long journey, the patient’s womb had ruptured along the way, leading to the loss of the baby. The doctors only managed to save the mother’s life with great difficulty,” he said.

Discrimination leading to more deaths

There are concerns the situation is only getting worse as the Taliban place more restrictions on women’s mobility and access to support, and the weakened economy sees healthcare facilities struggle to deliver services.

The WHO reported that in 2023, about 428 health centres were closed because of budget constraints.

Dr Suraya Dalil, WHO’s Director of the Special Programe for Primary Health Care and former Minister of Health in Afghanistan from 2010 to 2014, said that Afghanistan has become one of the most perilous countries for mothers due to insufficient healthcare resources.

Dr Dalil told Rukhshana Media that the Taliban’s discriminatory policies make women more vulnerable in accessing healthcare.

“There is a regime in Afghanistan that systematically discriminates against women. For instance, a few months ago, a directive was sent to the central hospital in Ghazni province stating that women without a male companion would not receive treatment,” she said.

“Similarly, in Herat, a directive was issued prohibiting ultrasound services for women at the central hospital.”

She said that ultrasound examinations are crucial for diagnosis and timely treatment decisions, services that have unfortunately been restricted for women.

Recently, the Taliban supreme leader issued an order for all female employees to receive a reduced monthly salary.

“Recently, we’ve witnessed female employees being allocated a monthly salary of only 5,000 afghanis (US$70), disregarding their rank, experience, and job responsibilities solely because they are women. This is systemic discrimination,” she said.

“The impact of the Taliban’s actions on women extends beyond just health issues. It has multidimensional implications.”

Health professionals strike over reduced salaries

This month several doctors, nurses, and midwives in Kabul hospitals staged a strike in protest of this decision by the Taliban leadership.

At least four female doctors and staff from hospitals such as Wazir Mohammad Akbar Khan, Shaikh Zahid, and Sehat-e-Tefl, speaking to Rukhshana Media,  said they cannot meet their basic living needs with the salary recently set by the Taliban for all female employees.

Homa*, a physician at Wazir Mohammad Akbar Khan hospital, said their protest lasted only three hours after the hospital’s Taliban-appointed director dispersed them with threats.

Orphaned children left to raise each other

Hanifa, 21, a resident of Sarjai area of Panjab district of Bamyan province now takes care of her two younger sisters and two younger brothers after the death of their mother.

She said that there are no clinics in their village or nearby areas, which is why her mother had to give birth at home.

“My poor mother cried in pain, clutching her back, yet she continued to bake bread. With my father and two brothers away working on farmlands, there was no man at home. My mother, assisted by our neighbor, who was a local woman, gave birth at home,” she said.

“She always delivered her children at home and was used to it, but this time, one of the twins didn’t come out, and her bleeding was so severe that the entire house was stained with blood.

“After giving birth, my mother survived only two hours. Despite our efforts, we couldn’t deliver the second twin because there was no accessible vehicle, and my father wasn’t home to help us.

“When my mother realized her bleeding wouldn’t stop, she urged us to take good care of her daughter, who was a baby girl. She remained conscious for two hours, growing weaker with each passing moment until she eventually lost consciousness.”

Karima Sadiq* a gynecologist specializing in obstetrics in remote areas, said stories like these are increasingly common.

“Sadly, since the Taliban seized power in Afghanistan, I have witnessed a rise in maternal deaths during childbirth, particularly in villages and districts. Every 24 hours, 24 to 26 mothers are losing their lives during childbirth, highlighting a disturbingly high maternal mortality rate.”

The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) recently reported that one-third of women in Afghanistan give birth without access to essential healthcare facilities, and only around 67 percent of deliveries in Afghanistan are supervised by healthcare professionals.

According to UNICEF’s report, it is recommended that pregnant women visit a doctor at least four times before delivery, but only a third of women in Afghanistan adhere to this recommendation.

UNICEF stated that that if a mother gives birth outside of a healthcare facility and without access to a skilled health professional, her life is significantly endangered.

Note*: Names are changed due to security reasons.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Hey, idk if you'd know this or not, but I've watch multiple zoo shows where they have a wild equine of some sort and to trim their hooves they always use a tranquilizer gun to put them out completely.

My question is why they don't train them to get hoof trims, with maybe some more minor sedition if needed like domestic horses do? I get that they are wild, but they have trained the giraffes to stand for foot care (at least this one zoo did), so idk why a zebra can't be taught that too. Especially when full sedation is so hard on the body and they're always concerned about them being down to long.

Is it because they don't want to habituate them to humans to much, or is it for safety of the person doing the hoof care? Are full hoof trims just to invasive of a procedure to train these wild equines to tolerate? Mix of all of these?

Really good question! So some zoos do train voluntary hoof trims but it depends on how many zebras are in your herd and how many staff you have.

This is a nice example of hoof trim training being used with a younger zebra, so they have the added benefit of early socialisation and habituation to people.

Also if you have your zebras out in a massive plains habitat, you'll need to be able to train them to come into a smaller area or recall to a station if you need to do husbandry. And

Ungulate keepers can be spread out across multiple species (though it depends on the zoo - that was the case at the zoo I did my zoo keeping course at) and their time is very limited to what they can acheive in that day. And it can also depend on the skill and experience - if no one on the team has experience in cooperative care it can be hard to get a cooperative care training plan going.

My experience has been that a lot of training and enrichment programs will take a backseat over general husbandry/cleaning and paperwork. And it sucks because training and enrichment are so vital to enhancing the welfare of your animals and sometimes upper management just doesn't get that.

So if a facility doesn't have the time, staff and resources to put towards training each individual zebra for a voluntary hoof trim (which could take months), sedation is the next best thing to ensure safety for the keepers and the animals. The stress for a wild flight animal is just going to be way too much for them and they will still need their hooves trimmed regardless.

The risk of complications around overgrown hooves or issues related to hooves are massive, so that has to be weighed against the effects of anesthesia.

As zoo keeping and cooperative care training advances, I've seen some really promising ideas about habitat design encouraging more movement on different substrates resulting in more natural hoof wear. Diet would be another consideration if we wanted to limit excessive hoof growth.

Would love if any ungulate keepers wanted to chime in with any thoughts!

This is a neat little video about why zebras need their hooves trimmed in human care:

Thanks for the question!

[slowcatsworld]

Noel Noa would let his spouse do his eyeliner for him sometimes

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(It’s so canon that he wears eyeliner, I don’t care none of that ‘oh it’s natural’ bs my man is a cat-eye winged baddie)

I doubt he wore it when he was in the slums of France. He probably started using eyeliner regularly when he got recruited to a smaller team, his first real opportunity to change his life. Maybe he wears it because he likes the feeling of empowerment and belonging the dramatic flare the eyeliner brings to him. Maybe he wears it as a safety precaution, something to hide the flaws only he sees, and doesn’t realize it yet. Maybe he wanted to be remembered, to stand out. Not to be identified as the poor, improper, uneducated boy with potential, to be a beast of a football player that stands next to no one. A man that was worth more than the dirty slums. If they wouldn’t remember his name or his abilities, they would remember the cold, (desperate) hungry gleam in his amber eyes encased in a cut of harsh black liner.

Whatever the case, the eyeliner has stuck with him for years. Even you, his spouse that shares a home with him, hardly see Noel without it. Due to his profession, his training and competition often ensured that Noel would rise out of bed before you and sink back into bed after you. You don’t mind though, treasuring your time with Noel comes in small but rewarding moments.

Like this morning.

Noel was to be at the airport in a few hours to fly to Japan from Germany with his team, Bastard Munchen. Apparently their presence is required for the next phase of the ‘Blue Lock’ program. You heard of it, having one foot in the football world at all times because of Noel; however no one in the world would have expected the upset that was the U-20 game held in Japan a couple weeks ago.

You weren’t too fond of the idea of Noel staying at the Blue Lock facility for the foreseeable future, and you could tell by his attitude neither was he. This ‘Neo Egoist League’ he mentioned sounded like one big round robin experiment to find players for the U-20 World Cup. Something only weeks away. The whole thing was like a dream, you just couldn’t tell if it would be a good one or a bad one. Seems as though the whole world will have to figure out together as very few are privy to know what is happening inside Blue Lock as of now.

Despite his protests in favor of you sleeping in, you decided to accompany and see Noel off.

“Noel, I’m not able to come with you. This will be the last morning I get to spend with you for weeks.” You stress to the figure washing his face in your shared bathroom.

“You still have to go to work later today, you need to sleep. No one wants to deal with an employer that can’t keep their eyes open for five minutes.” Noel calls.

“I’ll be fine, I’m a grown woman who can handle a little sleepiness,” You groan and stride to the bathroom. “You’re one to talk on the matter in fact, I can see your eye bags from here.”

The two of you lock eyes and enter a silent competition. Noel refuses to admit his sleep has been plagued with thoughts about the Blue Lock situation and wishes for you to return to bed. You are unrelenting in your efforts of spending this time with him and do not want to lay in a bed getting colder by the minute.

Noel sighs. Victory. You 1, Noel 0.

“Perhaps then you should do my eyeliner today, to lessen the appearance of my eye bags to your satisfactory.” He mumbles and holds his hand out with the marker in tow. An olive branch. A gleaming smile breaks upon your face.

There was something very private, very intimate for Noel when he allowed for you to do his eyeliner. Him leaning against the counter facing you, you between his legs holding his face. It was about trust. It was about vulnerability. Even if Noel wouldn’t admit it to you, he was giving you access to that little boy covered in dirt and bruises all those years ago. You knew it too, the way his face would lean into the skin of your palm as you held him steady. The way his shoulders would relax and his posture would slack. The way his eyes would close and twitch ever so slightly when they felt the ink from the marker. You knew you were holding the boy right now, not the man.

You’ve seen the boy a good handful of times. In the crux of the night when Noel would hold your body closer to him. In the evening husk when you would massage his body and play with his thick tufts of white hair. In the middle of the day; when you could hear the smile in his voice even if it wasn’t present in his face as he called you on your lunch break. And in the morning, when you did his eyeliner.

And you were oh so fragile with him. He appreciated it greatly, the warm feeling that flowed through his veins. It complimented the confidence the eyeliner gave him perfectly.

Once you finished you pressed a chaste kiss to his nose, then one on his lips. He sighed slightly at the feeling of your lips touching. The momentary solace building his energy that the night had sapped away from him instead of rejuvenating home with. You rubbed your thumbs through his wispy white eyebrow hairs and waited. Noel slowly opened his eyes, and looked at the small smile adorning your face.

His eye bags were still present, he still carried that essence of tiredness. But there was more life in his eyes. They glowed brighter, more whimsical than before. It was the perfect blend of boy and man.

“Thank you, Y/N.” The man said. For everything. The boy thought.

He couldn’t verbalize it, not now. His emotions would over take him, and he can’t afford that at this moment. Not when he’s about to part from you for so long. He had to be the man.

You understood though, you always do.

“Always, my love.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I HOPE WHOEVER READS THIS EATS THIS UP BC I PUT MY WHOLE SOUL INTO COOKING THIS

Mwah 😽

8.02.24

[coolshadowtwins]

LiuShen Fanficion Round Up! Lets Go!

This took way too long! These are hard to do on mobile. Thank you to everyone who gave recs! If anyone recommends any other LiuShen/BingLiuShen fics, I’ll add them to this later!

I might have missed some that people have recommended, so tell me if I did!

The clueless fairy and his knight by sailorstar165

Summary:

Yet another filler quest from the pesky System in his head leads Shen Qingqiu to a heavily damaged heavenly raiment that inconceivably now belongs to him.

This was impossible for two reasons.

One, Lunar Fairies are female only. So sayeth the "Great Master" Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky when he wrote the abomination that was PIDW, and last he'd checked, Shen Qingqiu was very much male.

Two, Shen Qingqiu is just some one-dimensional scum villain! He was a garbage person for the sake of villainy! He shouldn't have a tragic backstory and missing family and some fated role to play in this universe!

When the System lured him in with the promise of hidden lore, Shen Yuan wasn't signing up for this!

Cultivate: slow life on a monster infested mountain by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

When trying to transfer Shen Yuan from the real world to Proud Immortal Demon Way, the System runs into an error. The transfer is not complete.

Shen Yuan is dropped off at the foot of a mountain aware of two things: he's in the story, and the Shen Qingqiu of this world is not only aware but thinks he tried to possess his body — and he's PISSED. Shen Yuan tries to opt out and live a simple life on what locals tell him is a monster-infested mountain no one in their right mind would bother with.

Sounds like a great hiding spot!

(TL;DR: Stardew Scum Villain Valley Mountain.)

Reincarnation not desired, transmigration not required by Pegunicent

Summary:

Shen Yuan dies. Then he decides to finally get a life.

Star crossed wires by silversinnbees

Summary:

Shen Yuan’s family has been pestering him to get an android for months now. His health had recently taken a dip that landed him in the hospital for a bit and an ultimatum had been issued: either Shen Yuan goes into some kind of assisted living facility (which, no), or he purchases an android fitted out with caretaking programming to live with him. He had griped about it for the longest time, not liking either option given to him but he ultimately decided that an android in his living space was a better option than essentially living in a hospital.

 

Shen Yuan brings an android named Liu Qingge into his life to take care of him. He never could have expected that the android was capable of so much more than just caring.

Metagaming by esama

Summary:

[Self-Saving System Activated! You will be now returned to your original starting position.]

Shen Qingqiu dies and gets a second chance and decides to try a different approach. (Note: this does a many pairings, not just LiuShen!)

Meet Cute (these dorks) by Mayvn

Summary:

The instant he turned to dash into the fight, Liu Qingge froze as he saw Not Shen Qingqiu standing coolly over one unconscious thug, guqin in both hands and still in a pose that clearly showed he had, in fact, just bludgeoned someone with the end of his guqin. Not Shen Qingqiu smirked and tilted his head back cockily.
---
LQG finds SY running away from a sticky situation and brings him back to Cang Qiong in hopes that he can keep the man from getting himself mugged. SY is just relieved he doesn’t have to pretend to be a girl anymore.

Blanket Forts and Rainy Days by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

Mere weeks after the Demon Invasion incident, Liu Qingge visits Qing Jing Peak to discover the disciples hard at work building a monstrosity of blankets and bamboo. Like the students, he becomes inexplicably drawn into Shen Qingqiu's orbit in spite of himself.

Or: How Shen Yuan causes chaos under the flimsy guise of education and Liu Qingge heroically tries to keep himself oblivious to the state of his own squishy heart.

the stages of [...] by tennssi

Summary:

Despite all efforts, Luo Binghe died before the abyss event, and the only thing that saved Shen Qingqiu from being transported back to his world were the points he painstakingly accumulated to prevent Binghe’s blackening.

Stuck in a state of mourning that he himself is unaware of, he finds an unexpected comfort from a certain Peak Lord, who despite everything, never left his side since.

Sharing is Caring by celardor

Summary:

“Liu Qingge! I told you not to drink the water!” Shen Qingqiu shouts. His thoughts are a panicked whirl- is it going to have the same effect that it did in the original story?

 

Liu Qingge just stares at him in shock.

 

Shen Qingqiu’s question is answered when he suddenly hears Liu Qingge’s voice. Liu Qingge isn’t speaking, though- his mouth never moves. No, Shen Qingiu is hearing Liu Qingge’s voice inside his head.

Liu Qingge’s voice says, “Holy shit. I can see his nipples.”

 

They both stare at each other in horror. At that moment, there’s a happy little ding and a System notification pops up in front of him.

 

[Congratulations! Bonus mission activated: Sharing is Caring!]

 

“Fuck,” Shen Qingqiu says, with feeling.

 

*************

Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge accidentally trigger a wife plot that leads to them forming a telepathic connection.

(This one is a favorite of mine! I’ve re-read it multiple times, and it has an inprogress sequel.)

The Guardian Ghost and the Bookish Fairy by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

Liu Qingge survives his qi deviation… in the form of a ghost. Having nothing better to do and no desire to be exorcised, he follows after Shen Qingqiu and decides to haunt him for the hell of it.

It doesn't take him long to realize that not only is this not the Shen Qingqiu he knew, but there is more going on. And apparently Shang Qinghua is involved too? Ah! He understands now — they're immortal fairies given the mission to thwart a dark prophecy of the sect's collapse. Well. He can help with that. And how better than to protect the bookish fairy that's taken his old foe's place?

There are no ulterior motives. Why think such foolish things???

TL;DR: What happens if SY transmigrates just a little too late?

Story marked "Chooses Not To Warn" purely because LQG becomes a ghost in the first scene and I didn't want to agonize over whether that required a MCD warning or not. If it does to you, this is your heads up! No other archive warnings are necessary.

Moments by hummingbirdhum

Summary:

Liu Qingge never paid Shen Qingqiu attention unless he had to, before. But things are different now, and in a million little ways, this new Shen Qingqiu keeps managing to make him...feel things. Things he's not used to.

Basically SQQ keeps being attractive and adorable without realizing it and eventually it's going to build up to the point LQG has to do something about it.

Updates will be sporadic in length and in upload date. Starts pre-abyss.

every memory of you by beta_babelfish

Summary:

Before Shen Qingqiu can voice his agreement and his opinion that they are doing an excellent job of getting things done, a knock sounds at the door. The other Shen Qingqiu sighs heavily, and stands. “You ought to hide, I suppose,” he says. “That’ll be Yue Qingyuan.”


“Oh? Is there some business with the sect?” Shen Qingqiu asks, immediately curious.


“Oh, he’s here to clear my meridians, as usual,” Other-Him says nonchalantly.


Shen Qingqiu blinks. He blinks again. “As usual?” he says after what feels like an eternity, voice sounding strange and an unsettled feeling churning in his gut. “What about Liu-shidi?”


Other-Him looks at him blankly for a moment. “Who?”

Or, Shen Qingqiu is wifeplotted into an alternate timeline in which he did not save Liu Qingge.

Fowl Weather Friends by Koiichaser_lucorinth

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu had always felt a small disconnect from his wings, coming from a world that didn’t have them. Like the opposite of phantom-limb syndrome. Things that were a part of him, yet felt separate.

They were cool in concept, yet gave him no end of trouble.

Like old wounds, they ached and cramped in bad weather or exhaustion. As if the Original Goods had gotten them broken in places multiple times before healing away the physical signs as he cultivated.

Also, they were just annoying!

They required so much upkeep! Feathers constantly shed and had to grow in, which was itchy as hell. When they grew in, they did so with sheaths you had to scratch off as they emerged, but you couldn’t scratch too hard because OOPS, was that a blood feather? If it was, congrats on just breaking open what was basically a straw directly to a vein. Better pluck it all out from the root if you ever want it to stop bleeding! And then you had to heal the gaping hole the correct way, or the next pinfeather might not grow back correctly.

…Shen Qingqiu might not have devoted his patience.

If he were to be honest, he might have slipped up a little in regards to the care of his wings as of late.

I Wish You Were My Husband by Feynite

Summary:

AU based on The Dreamer in the Spring Boudoir (familiarity with that story's not required).

Wherein Shen Yuan transmigrates into a harem intrigues romance novel (gay edition), Yue Qingyuan really fucks up, Liu Qingge is not suitable for his job, and no one even remotely sees Luo Binghe coming. (Note: this is maybe a stretch of LiuShen? But I think it counts lol)

You Take Me By the Heart When You Take Me By the Hand by UnhookedStar

Summary:

Liu Qingge knows that as smart as he is, Shen Yuan is often startlingly oblivious to the implications of his actions. Liu Qingge has learned this the hard way after years of obsessing over countless overly familiar casual gestures. However, while Shen Yuan's sense of personal space has always been practically nonexistent, he's been even more sticky than usual lately. He keeps casually touching Liu Qingge; brushing his hair out of his face, randomly reaching out and patting his head, leaning in close to say something and never leaning away again. The other day, Shen Yuan had held his hand. In public.

 

Or, Liu Qingge has no idea why Shen Yuan has been acting so much more familiar with him lately, but all of this casual touching is starting to push at the limits of his self control.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan just wants to know when his boyfriend is finally going to kiss him.

The Journey Home, The Hollow Victory by MonroeKnox

The journey back to Cang Qiong Mountain seemed longer than it’s ever been.

 

Unlike so many times before, peak lord Liu Qingge was returning victorious.

But, in his heart, there was nothing to celebrate.

 

Liu Qingge could not outrun his grief forever. Especially not when he has finally brought Shen Qingqiu home.

Misery by Calamity Butterfly

Summary:

"With shaking fingers, he traces the planes of what will be Shen Qingqiu’s face. He brushes dirt from the body’s hair, rearranges its arms so it looks more peaceful, wipes a smear of mud from its chest. The body doesn’t exactly look dead but isn’t currently breathing and doesn’t have the… seeming of life. Shang Qinghua insisted that Shen Qingqiu’s soul was not yet fully inside the body, but Liu Qingge is sure he can sense Shen Qingqiu’s presence in the clearing, if not in the body. He hopes Shen Qingqiu is able to be aware of and comforted by, at some level, the knowledge that his body is safe and being cared for by one who cares for him very deeply."

A very Not Ok Liu Qingge finds Shen Qingqiu's plant body before Shen Qingqiu wakes up. He tends and cares for it and keeps it safe.

Another Time, Another Place by Mayvn

Summary:

Another Luo Binghe suddenly appeared and Liu Qingge died trying to save Shen Qingqiu, only to find himself waking up in a strange room full of strange things.


Losing his ‘apartment’? Cheating girlfriend kicking him to the curb for a rich ‘fuerdai’ after stealing all his money? What’s a ‘dogblood drama’? He doesn’t care about any of that! What happened to Shen Qingqiu?!


---


Basically, LQG gets transmigrated into a dogblood drama, but just wants to cultivate and live happily with SY. If only these damn characters would get a hint and stop trying to drag him back into the plot!
Meanwhile, after being forcefully repatriated, SY uses all his superpowers as an avid trashy web-novel reader to try to predict what will happen and protect LQG from all the shitty tropes while also dealing with the realization that there’s been cultivation in the modern world this whole time!

Not to mention the familiar-but-different faces popping up here and there…

rsvp me to world's end by beta_babelfish

Summary:

FUTURE Shen Qingqiu [FSQQ] 4130 HOURS FROM NOW opened a memo on board WELCOME TO HELL

FSQQ: OKAY. First things first if the term “peerless cucumber” means anything to you you’re in the right place. If it doesn’t then you’re gonna be banned immediately. thanks
PAST Shen Qingqiu [PSQQ] 45 HOURS AGO responded to the memo
PSQQ: what the hell is a peerless cucumber
FSQQ banned PSQQ from responding to the memo
FSQQ: what did i just FUCKING say!!!!
FSQQ: anyway
FSQQ: you know that shitty webcomic. Proud Immortal Demon's Game? about that game called SBURB that causes the end of the world and the creation of a new one with frogs or whatever. luo binghe is there, he rips apart paradox space and uses his fuckin insane powers to take over like three different universes and all that?
FSQQ: you’re in it now
FSQQ: have fun
CURRENT Shen Qingqiu [CSQQ] RIGHT NOW responded to the memo
CSQQ: WHAT THE FUCK

Or, the Scum Villain/Homestuck crossover that absolutely nobody asked for, but you're getting anyway

A Night on Cang Qiong Mountain by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu frets over the upcoming Endless Abyss event. Wanting to figure out a way to give his little white sheep fond memories of his time at the sect to hold onto in the Abyss, he remembers Halloween, something he looked forward to each year in his previous life (even if it was only through game events). System steps in to offer him a Limited Time Event of his own.

These are stories based off of the same premise that can be read stand-alone if preferred. Technically you could read them in any order.

NSFW

We'll survive, you and I by rinsled05

Summary:

On the bed, back against Liu Qingge’s chest, Shen Yuan is grinding his ass against him, soft, breathless sounds slipping out of his mouth.

Liu Qingge's skin buzzes with need, and he wants to put his hands on Shen Yuan’s hips, feel them shift under his palms. Wants to hear Shen Yuan whimper as he matches Shen Yuan’s pace and rocks back. To suck and nip at Shen Yuan’s skin, leaving bruises in the shape of his mouth.

But he's too aware of Luo Binghe's presence on the other side of the bed, the curl of his arm around Shen Yuan’s waist. Liu Qingge can’t tell if Shen Yuan is awake, either, if he even realizes that the body spooned against him belongs to Liu Qingge. It’s entirely possible that he thinks it’s—

“Qingge,” Shen Yuan whines.

Oh.


In which Liu Qingge fights to keep himself and Shen Yuan alive in a zombie apocalypse, knowing that Shen Yuan would have married Luo Binghe if not for, well, zombies. Liushen main, with hints of Bingqiu, Bingliu, and eventual Bingliushen.

the horns of a dilemma by lavenderandrue

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu doses himself with truth mushrooms on purpose and gets more than he bargained for.

returned tenfold by lavenderandrue

Summary:

“We were thinking perhaps a little game of sorts? An exchange of winnings and gifts?”
Bristling immediately, Liu Qingge draws himself up ramrod straight. “I have no wish to play your games, demon,” he spits. Shen Qingqiu makes some kind of small noise behind his fan, perhaps a laugh or a sound of dismay, and Liu Qingge tries to ignore the way the tips of his ears heat up.
“Actually, Shidi, it was this shixiong’s idea.” Shen Qingqiu uncrosses his legs and sits a little straighter on his throne, which is far more ornate than Luo Binghe’s. The solemn dignity is marred a little by the pile of cushions spilling out from underneath his robes and the bag of melon seeds resting on the arm.
Liu Qingge’s chest aches faintly. This is fairly normal when he’s around Shen Qingqiu, so he ignores it.

Dual Cultivation by Acernor

Summary:

“Shizun said I made you feel so good,” Luo Binghe says, “that I could fuck you any time I wanted.”

Liu Qingge stops breathing for a second.

“What,” he blurts out.

Shen Qingqiu could tell he’d been into it?!

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 48

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: “Took you long enough.”

AO3

Spotify

After you looted what you could of the armory—more water bottles, granola bars, a pair of barely-used combat boots, a pistol, and a tactical shotgun—you were ready.

“Do you know how to use that,” 079 asked as you holstered the pistol into a gun belt clipped around your waist. Even with only a single tone, the computer SCP still managed to sound both mocking and unbothered.

You fumbled a little as you picked up the shotgun and began to feed it 12-gauge shells.

“Sure. I’ve watched American TV shows.” Your lips pressed together hard enough to ache. “And I’m done dealing with 035’s shit. I see him again, it’s on sight.”

You slid the last shell into place with a satisfying snap.

“Please refrain from any self-inflicted gunshot wounds until after you retrieve SCP-682.”

“I shall do my best.”

The laptop bag across your chest, with as many boxes of shotgun shells loaded into the stock bags as possible, and the actual shotgun slung across your back, you were starting to feel like a regular pack mule.

“If I survive this, I’m going to be in the best shape of my life,” you said to no one. 079 certainly wouldn’t care.

You were stalling—mentally, anyway. Physically, you were following the maintenance tunnels by which doors opened and which remained closed, leading you to your destination. A destination you desperately didn’t want to visit.

But the fraction of 079’s programming knew what it was doing, and you didn’t see anyone—human or SCP—before you made it to the freight elevator. It was unguarded. You didn’t like that, and you especially didn’t like when you got into the elevator and the doors closed but otherwise didn’t move. You pulled 079 out of the bag and opened it, expecting to get another earful of complaints.

Instead, the computer said, “Insert me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

You dug around in the bag, having to push aside the boxes of slugs to get at the cable.

“The underground section is on a different system. Physically separated. I will implant another partition to this sector.”

You did not envy the techs that would have to clean up the network once this was over. If the site reopened, anyway. You didn’t know how extensive the damage was, but there was no sign of the guards retaking any of the sections you’d crossed.

“Got it,” you said, inserting the cable into the port next to the card reader. “How many MTF are down there?”

“None.”

“Are you sure?”

The floor shifted under your feet as the elevator began its descent.

“Yes.”

You watched the screen, though the face never changed.

“Doesn’t that seem suspicious? Why would they leave 682 unguarded?” Leahy sure as hell wouldn’t leave that particular door unmanned.

“When the house is on fire, do you concern yourself with the affairs of the basement?”

“…I suppose not.”

079 let its smug silence be its response. You could argue, but there wasn’t a point. You were going to the underground facility, and you could trust 079 to get you there safely. Being dead wasn’t very useful to the computer SCP.

The elevator ride was just as long as you remembered, and you didn’t want to imagine how far down it was, exactly. 079 probably knew. You didn’t ask.

The doors parted, and the long tunnel lay before you, the same as before. Nothing had changed, and you hadn’t expected it to. The chill of being so far underground was no gentler the second time experienced. The Site Director might not be here to order you into the bedrock depths, but that was a fleeting comfort.

True to 079’s words, no MTF soldiers greeted your arrival. You were alone for the long walk, the computer tucked safely back in the bag. You didn’t need directions for this part.

Five minutes on foot and you were once again before the massive vault door. There were no techs to open it for you this time, so you set 079 on the nearby console, opened the computer, and plugged in the cable.

The massive door began its arduous task of opening, 079 clearing the way before you could say a word. You glanced down the dark tunnel, the catwalk disappearing into darkness before it flickered to life, lights now guiding your path.

The underground facility must have had its own power source as well as security system separate from the facility above. You sensed Leahy’s hand in the design. It was smart. You could admit that, begrudgingly, to absolutely no one.

“You may proceed,” 079 said.

“Do you want to come with me?”

The computer paused. It never paused.

“…Yes.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you picked up the laptop, keeping it open as you propped it on your arms.

“Excited to see him again?”

You descended the metal stairs from the control platform, careful not to trip in the dim light, steadier on your feet once your path was illuminated by the catwalk lights.

“I do not possess the hardware to experience such a state as ‘excited.’”

“No? Your fans don’t whir a little faster? Your circuits don’t strain a bit harder?”

Its fans did, indeed, whir a little faster.

“You dignify those around you when you choose not to speak.”

“Oh, we’re way past dignity, buddy.”

It was nearly silent apart from your booted feet against the metal platform. The remembered fear of the last time you traversed this catwalk lingered on your tongue, bitter and sharp. Despite the chaos of the containment breach and the uncertainty that lay ahead, you felt more in control than your first visit. There was no Site Director to threaten you with unpleasant ultimatums.

You thought of Leahy and what he might be doing to try and quell the breach. From the sound of it, he hadn’t been very successful. You wondered if he knew it was you who started it.

You hoped he did.

Static burst from the laptop at the same moment the screen glitched, flicking and stretching out the digital face. You came to a sudden stop.

“What’s wrong?”

Your question was answered with a loud, low mechanical groan from further ahead, the kind that came from metal scraping against metal in a way it decidedly shouldn’t. The end of the tunnel flickered, and then the loud clang and clatter of something heavy falling to the floor.

“Shit,” you said through clenched teeth. You didn’t wait for 079 to answer before backing up, moving out of range of whatever was happening in 682’s chamber.

“Must---destroy----theanomaly---" 079’s voice cut in through bits of digital fuzz. “Containment---isfailing---"

“682?” You peered closer at the unstable screen. “But… I thought you wanted to save him. I can’t--… I won’t kill him.”

“Not---682,” it answered, annoyance conveyed even through the constant glitching. “The---other---one.”

“Other one? What other one?”

But the screen plunged into darkness, leaving your own frustrated expression staring back at you.

“Shit!”

You placed the open laptop on the floor of the catwalk, hoping if—when—you came back, you could get 079 working again. But you had bigger problems on your hands; vibrations thrummed up the catwalk and the occasional metallic boom told you that you were running out of time.

The chamber at the end of the tunnel was nothing like the way you had left it. The strange panels that had been facing towards the writhing form of 682 were broken or knocked aside, sparks snapping the air as live wires trailed along the walls.

Every hair on your body stood upright as you approached the circular portion of the walkway that went around the floating entity. It had… grown. It was difficult to look at, as if staring into the sun, yet it gave off no light of its own. It just simply… made your eyes ache, but the longer you stared, the more it came into focus:

A circular black sphere with a silver film over its edges, as if coated in a thin layer of mercury. The event horizon.

682 had called it another entity. A singularity. You knew of an SCP that was a black hole. You hadn’t realized it was at Site-20, but then again, the reptile wasn’t supposed to be here either.

As you watched, pieces of railing and platform flaked off and spiraled toward the ravenous void that shouldn’t exist. Your hair still stood on end, the tips of it being gently tugged toward the gravitational field. It was slowly consuming the room, and if it continued at this rate, it would swallow the rest of the facility and beyond. You couldn’t see 682 anywhere, and you wondered if the Site Director had finally gotten what he wanted.

And wouldn’t he be so pleased to know at least one of his projects was a success.

That thought more than anything fueled you forward, your fists clenched at your sides as you faced the entity, SCP-123. The protective outer casing had been removed, leaving it in danger of becoming unstable, which it now was. You didn’t know if it had become that way because of the breach, or because no one was left to keep it from expanding past the chamber.

Leahy, you idiot.

But what had his instructions been when he’d wanted you to destroy 682? Make physical contact with the anomaly. And when you rooted out the anomalous influence in the patient in medical, you’d also had to touch him. The very touch that had weakened 049.

But how were you supposed to touch a black hole?

A sharp cry cut through your indecision. Impossibly, a grey snout erupted from the anomalous mass, sharp teeth bared in an agonized snarl before disappearing back into the void.

682 was alive! As soon as that fact was made apparent, it simply didn’t matter what you could or couldn’t do. You had to try something before there was nothing left of him.

You stepped up to the edge of the circular railing, wobbling as the gravitation pull tugged harder with every inch closer. It felt wrong, like falling deep into black water and not knowing which way was up or down.

But this wasn’t just any collapsed gravitational mass. It was one that shouldn’t exist. It was anomalous. An SCP, just like any other. And if it was close enough to affect you, then it stood to reason that the reverse should also be true.

The tugging on your clothes and hair became more insistent, the pull washing over your skin with a magnetic touch, threatening to lift you off the catwalk. But you denied it, shunted the sensation aside, centering your weight. You imagined yourself as too heavy for the anomaly to lift, and the gravitational pull seemed to ease.

But you didn’t want to shut out the anomaly. You had to draw it in, just as it was trying to do the same to you.

You had no clue what you were doing, running on the same instinct that drew you to the time-displaced patient. Closing your eyes, you reached out a hand toward the entity, doing the same with your thoughts.

The reaction was instantaneous. A howling wind rushed from the entity, forcing your hair back from your face as it whipped past. The singularity burst open, breaching past its own event horizon, expanding in a misshapen, gaping wound.

But past the wounded edges lay thousands of distant stars, opulent nebulas, and asteroid fields of swirling gas and ice. You could see it even with your eyes closed, viewing past the collapsed mass to what could be the other side of the universe.

A slow smile spread across your face, the wind sweeping over your skin leaving you unburned, but the panels behind you caught fire, and what didn’t catch ablaze melted down the walls.

You opened your eyes. Whatever fear in you had fled the moment you’d connected with the entity. You just wanted to see it, and you stared in wonder as your hand seemed to float in the deep reaches of space. It should have been impossible; the cold would have frozen your hand immediately, and the unshielded radiation would quickly lead to an agonizing death.

But none of that happened. It was beautiful. It shouldn’t exist, but you were glad it did, even if it had been twisted for someone else’s purpose into the horrific and cruel.

Your smile faded. As much as you might wish there was another way, 682 needed to be free, and the facility above wouldn’t survive much longer with an open wormhole beneath it.

You were about to try and figure out how to destroy the anomaly when you noticed a much closer celestial object. A planet orbiting a blue star, but it seemed to absorb none of its light, covered darkness even on the day side.

As you looked closer, you realized you were wrong. The planet wasn’t covered by permanent night, it was covered with a black sea. This became more apparent when the planet turned and you caught a glimpse of an isolated continent, twinkling lights glowing along its entire surface, as if it was one giant metropolis.

Something tugged at the edges of your thoughts, a vie for your attention even more enticing than the one of the black hole. It seemed to… call to you. Inviting you to dive into its glittering depths and never resurface.

You shuddered and took a breath, steadying yourself against the alien pull. It grew stronger. You tried not to panic, sensing that losing your control now would cause the temporary opening to tear apart, taking you and the facility along with it.

You closed your eyes and blocked out everything else, focusing on the feeling you got whenever 049 was beside you—solid, steadfast, serene, even in moments that could lead to his death. He didn’t waver easily, and you borrowed that strength, your own too easily forgotten in moments where your survival relied on your ability to do the impossible.

Slowly closing your fingers until it curled into a fist, you reached out for the connection between the chamber and the other side—and began to squeeze.

The wind swirling around the chamber picked up speed, a howling gale that shook more panels from the walls, the lights dangerously flickering and threatening to leave you in darkness. The celestial window shrank in wobbly fits and starts, until it finally stabilized and condensed into the closed palm of your hand.

And then it was simply… gone, and the image of the glowing city faded into the back of your mind, like a disturbing dream forgotten in the light of morning.

The chamber was eerily quiet, the only light source from a few working overhead light panels. It looked like remnants of a warzone, though it was unclear what weapons had been used and who the casualties were.

“682?” you called softly into the darkness.

There was no response aside from the occasional stray spark and groaning shift of metal.

Had you been too late? What would happen to 049 now?

You sat on the half-melted catwalk, burying your face in your hands. Even if 049’s fate didn’t hang in the balance, you’d wanted to succeed. You’d never been entirely onboard with the Foundation’s obsession with destroying 682. None of them stopped to think that maybe the humanity-hating reptile hated them because they wouldn’t stop trying to kill him.

His last containment cell had been an acid-filled pool, for Christ’s sake—

“Took you long enough.”

Dropping your hands, a quick glance around the chamber didn’t reveal the owner of that familiar voice. No towering, monstrous silhouettes, or glowing eyes in the darkness.

“Aim lower.”

You looked down at what appeared to be a grey gecko clinging to the tip of your boot.

“…682?”

“In the flesh. What remains of it.”

He narrowed his yellow eyes, but the intimidation was hard to take seriously when he could fit into the palm of your hand. Despite his diminutive size, his deep timbre remained the same, though it had lost its booming quality. Still… that voice coming out of that tiny body made the whole thing surreal, bordering on ridiculous.

Don’t laugh.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive. I was afraid I was too late, or I screwed up—”

He zipped up your leg to rest atop your knee faster than you could blink.

“Where is 079?”

This close up, it was easier to tell he wasn’t a normal gecko. At least, you were fairly sure most geckoes didn’t have green manes trailing from their heads down their backs.

“A little further down the walkway,” you said, tilting your head toward the catwalk. “I think 123 was interfering with the electronics.”

682 bared his tiny but sharp teeth.

“Take me to him.”

You put a palm against the grated floor to get to your feet, but 682 didn’t move from your knee.

“Uh… can I pick you up? Or touch you at all? I don’t want to hurt you.”

682 made a noise as if he found the idea ludicrous and maybe a little bit insulting.

“Your touch will only cease my healing function. I would advise not crushing me while you carry me. For your sake.”

079 had delivered the same threat about the laptop. Suddenly, the fun-sized reptile was no longer adorably harmless. Not when your frail human fingers were so close to his needle teeth.

“I won’t.”

You held out your hand, and 682 gave a small hop into your palm.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit adorable.

You rose to your feet, careful not to squish the small body cupped within your hands. 682 didn’t look back at the room that served as his torture chamber, and neither did you.

“You shouldn’t have brought 079 so close,” he grumbled as you walked. “It’s reckless. Stupid.”

“Tell that to 079. He wanted to see you. Wouldn’t leave without you.”

If 682 was pleased by the news, he gave no outward sign of it, but reading the body language and facial expressions of small reptiles wasn’t exactly in your skillset. Still, you found their whole dynamic to be… interesting. Were they friends? Lovers? Some other undefinable thing that only made sense to them? Whatever it was, at least you caught on to the fact you could refer to 079 as a “he” instead of an “it.” Getting your nose munched on by a pint-sized terror was something you wanted to avoid.

As soon as 079 was in sight, still where you left him on the floor, 682 leapt from your hands and practically zoomed over the open laptop. As soon as his paws touched the keyboard, the screen flickered to life, 079’s face illuminating the reptile.

“SCP-682. You are still functioning.” The computer paused. “I am… glad.”

682 stared up at the screen, a pink tongue flicking out of his mouth before disappearing, surely a sign he was pleased.

“Likewise, old friend.”

You stepped forward.

“I hate to break up the reunion—”

682 whirled and hissed at you, his tail stiff and his head thrown back to make him appear bigger than he was.

You held up your hands.

“Okay. You can stay where you are, but I need to carry you both out of here.”

The reptile closed its snout and gave you an impressive stink eye for only being a couple inches off the ground.

“You may pick me up,” 079 intoned dully. “She has not dropped me. Yet.”

682’s tail flicked at the side, finally turning his back to you to face the screen, apparently satisfied with 079’s glowing recommendation of your competency.

It was awkward carrying an open laptop with a miniature menace seated on the keyboard with a shotgun slung over your back, but it wasn’t any worse than what you’d already endured. You tried not to pay attention to their conversation, which wasn’t hard considering the two of them acted as if you weren’t there. Their main focus seemed to be catching up since the breach at Site-19. It was a brief topic, as 079 had spent the time on a thumb drive in a bag, and 682 had been trapped in a looping gravitational blender.

By the time you’d reached the elevator and plugged 079 into the port, they’d moved on to their shared hatred of humanity and how the humans hadn’t even been able to destroy the two SCPs properly. You suddenly felt sorry for 049. Is this what it had been like during the breach at Site-19? Ignored by the wonder twins, only to have the mask draped over him like an itchy blanket?

As soon as the elevator doors shut behind you and it began its quick ascent, you interrupted 079 going on about fascinating ways the facility was rigged to kill its inhabitants.

“There is even a gas nozzle attached to each staff quarters in case any Foundation personnel flee for shelter during a total breach—”

“Where is 049?”

The lizard turned to look up at you, and even the computer paused, as if only just remembering you were still there.

“I did what you asked,” you reminded the screen. “I held up my end of the bargain.”

682 snorted, tail flicking like a cat’s.

“What do you want with that old relic?” he asked. “He’s only deadly within the scope of his reach, and we don’t have time for his asinine attempts at resurrection.”

Before you could respond, 079 said, “This one had sexual intercourse with SCP-049.”

682 let out a guffaw.

“That-that has nothing to do with it!”

“But it doesn’t hurt.”

Your face burned worse at his toothy grin. How had it come to this, being mocked by SCPs for your—admittedly strange—relationship with 049? Not that you’d had much of a choice with what had happened between you, but still. It was the principle of it.

You ignored the amused reptile and glared at 079.

“I do not know where SCP-049 is currently being held,” the computer relented. “I can only relay his last known location.”

“Which is?”

“Medical Suite B with Site Director Leahy.”

Your stomach dropped so fast you had to fight down the nausea.

“How long ago?”

“Immediately following SCP-106’s release,” 079 said. “The entity went directly for the medical wing. Its presence interferes with electronics. I do not know what took place in the infirmary, the observation equipment no longer functions. But SCP-049 has not been captured by any other cameras. It is reasonable to say, he did not leave the room.”

You leaned back against the elevator wall, trying not to let the news steal what little hope you had left.

“Then… we go to the medical wing. Get in that room, see what happened.”

“Or,” 079 said, “you could ask the Site Director.”

“Leahy?” You straightened. “Where is he?”

“Entrenched within his office. There are four site facility guards with him, all heavily armed.”

“So, he’s… fine? I don’t understand.” You rubbed your forehead. “Why would 106 go straight to the infirmary but leave the Site Director unharmed? We know from past incident reports that he’s intelligent enough to recognize individuals. He must know who Leahy is.”

It shouldn’t be possible for a reptile and computer to exchange a glance, yet they did.

“Historically, the old ghoul hasn’t been fond of 049’s attempts to cure him,” 682 said when the other SCP remained silent. “My guess? He went for the easier prey, and he’s biding his time with the Site Director.”

Easier prey?!

“Then we-we have to go straight to the infirmary! We have to help him!”

How much time had you wasted running errands for 079 after 035 had held you captive? He should have told you what happened to 049, he should have let you go to him—

“You don’t want to step foot inside that room without knowing what you’re walking into,” the reptile said, his tone unusually even. When he spoke to you, it was generally with rage or mockery, but this was different, like he was trying to convince you how reasonable he was being. “If there’s one thing 106 enjoys besides hunting, it’s setting traps and lying in wait.”

“106 can’t hurt me!”

“Arrogance,” 682 spit, some of his venom returning. “Are you the one at 106’s mercy?”

Your mouth snapped shut, the midpoint of your chest aching.

“My advice?” the reptile continued, “Get to the Site Director. Find out exactly what happened. And go into that room with a hell of a lot more power than 079 and I possess.”

Your laugh was a small, hopeless thing.

“I can’t think of anything more powerful than the two of you.”

“As flattered as I am, I’m still regaining my mass.” 682 paced across the keyboard, his tiny claws making clacking noises on the keys. “Subsuming flesh will accelerate the process, but that’s not what I mean by power. You will need to prepare.”

682 stopped his pacing and looked up at 079. The computer spoke.

“Safe Object Storage.”

“What about it?”

“That is your next destination.”

You swallowed down the tightness in your throat. As it stood, a couple of guns wouldn’t be able to get past Leahy’s guards to interrogate him, let alone handle 106 on your own. You had little choice but to continue trusting 079.

“Will it help?”

682 turned to you, his mouth spreading in a sharp grin.

“It’ll help.”

[themenendezbrothers]

Lyle and Eric's friend Anerae Brown aka X-Raided

NY post article x

Brown, in contrast, characterized Lyle and Erik as mentors who encouraged him to change his life by taking more than a dozen prison classes and programs, including anger management and Narcotics Anonymous courses.

Brown first met Lyle in late 2000 at Mule Creek, where they quickly bonded over their shared notoriety despite vastly different backgrounds.

Brown was a Crip from Sacramento. Known in the yard as X-Raided, the rapper released his first album at 15 and still had a “foot in gang-banging,” a lifestyle far from the affluence of Beverly Hills in which Menendez had lived, he said.

“He’s a very charismatic, magnetic person,” Brown told The Post. “We just became people who could rely on each other.”

The connection was first forged on a prison football field, where other inmates doled out cheap shots to Lyle, including elbowing him in a “petty” way, prompting Brown to stand up for him.

The pair also connected over media scrutiny. Brown continued to release music from prison, attracting interest from reporters and even MTV.

Lyle soon urged Brown to renounce his violent past. That helped spark a seismic shift, with the rapper embarking on a decades-long quest to transform his life.

“Lyle was the guy who started teaching me the value of utilizing my popularity to my advantage in a way where I can be influential for positive things,” said Brown, whose latest album is available Friday. “He was the first person to say, ‘Hey man, I think you should sign up for these classes, there’s another way to do your time.'”

In 2008, Brown was transferred to Pleasant Valley State Prison where Erik Menendez was waiting to greet him, after a letter from Lyle.

“It said, essentially, ‘I love X-Raided, he’s my little brother and take care of him how you would take care of me,'” Brown recalled.

Brown praised Erik as a “calm, put-together” soul who picked up right where Lyle left off. “He was a positive influence on me, and somebody that I looked up to,” said Brown, who left the Crips.

“I became Project Menendez and they really did everything they could do to make sure I didn’t spend the rest of my life in that environment,” Brown said.

In 2018, he was paroled after years of tutelage and guidance from both brothers. Erik even wrote a letter of support for the rapper, he said.

via Robert Rand's blog:

"Brown remains in touch with both of the Menendez brothers whom he considers close friends. Anerae has told me that his contact with Erik and Lyle was an integral part of his personal development to turn his life away from violence and gang banging which he now describes as “parasitic”.

Brown, left, aka rapper X-Raided, considers Lyle Menendez a mentor. The two were photographed inside the Echo Yard in 2018, when local paper The San Diego Tribune profiled it and featured Lyle.

Image source: press

Image source: X-Raided Brown via NY Post

Anerae “X-Raided” Brown, second from right, with Lyle Menendez, who became a “mentor” for the reformed gangster after the pair met at Mule Creek State Prison.

image source: X-Raided Brown via Ny post

X-Raided Brown, second from left, raps inside Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility as Lyle, second from right, reads interludes between songs in 2018. Courtesy of Anerae âX-Raidedâ Brown

“X-Raided” Brown, right, with Lyle Menendez in February 2018. Months later Brown, a convicted murderer, was paroled, for which he credits the brothers.

image source: press

x

[dahliaduvide]

I've been digging into the life of Jeremy Wade Delle, beyond just the day of his death that is immortalized in the Pearl Jam song we all know so well.

One thing Jeremy Delle and I have in common is that we both spent time in a psych hospital in our teenage years. We both ended up in adolescent wards of large chain hospitals. My experience wasn't completely negative, but I don't think it helped anyone but my mother.

Jeremy Delle was hospitalized in April of 1990 after what is believed to have been his first suicide attempt.

His parents put him in Timberlawn Psychiatric Hospital where he started seeing a doctor that continued to treat him until his death by suicide on January 8, 1991. He actually had completed a session with his doctor the afternoon before he died.

The redacted police report gives only a small amount of information about the doctor that Jeremy Delle was seeing. His name is given as Dr. Bob H####, and as Dr. Robert H#### on a card that the police found in Mr. Delle's wallet. This card lists two phone numbers for the doctor. The first if the general number for the Timberlawn facility, but the other number is likely a direct line to the doctor's office.

The information given in the July 1990 list of hospitals printed in D Magazine, a local Dallas publication, about Timberlawn is "4600 Samuell Blvd, Dallas. 381-7181. Psychiatric hospital; 232 beds; offers chemical dependency treatment, occupational therapy, and psychiatric unit". That's the same as the first phone number listed on the card on Jeremy Delle's wallet card. The second is 381-6327.

Without a last name, I couldn't search for any other mentions of the doctor in public records (and I didn't find anything relevant using the phone number), but there were certainly a few articles about Timberlawn. More than a few, I had to winnow them down to the ones that seemed most relevant to what Jeremy Delle might have experienced during his stay there.

This article from June 1990 explains the sudden growth in the industry in Texas. The financial motivations behind it have very distinct consequences that the article outlines: patients rarely stay longer than their insurance foots the bill.

When the money runs out everyone- adult, teenager, addict, seems to be miraculously cured.

There are several claims of misconduct by care providers throughout the time surrounding Jeremy Delle's stay at Timberlawn.

May 1988: A Dallas woman is admitted to the substance abuse program at Timberlawn. In February 1996, when she is in her early 30s, she alleges misconduct by her doctor during her stay at Timberlawn.

May 1991: In March 1993, a patient alleges he was pursued by his doctor after seeking treatment at Timberlawn for depression after the end of his marriage. He also alleges that she initiated an inappropriate romantic and sexual relationship which lasted from November 1991 to February 1992.

Obviously, Mr. Delle would have been, or at least should have been, housed in separate adolescent areas from any adult patients, but he might have seen the same doctors. Particularly because he was treated for substance abuse. I have some doubts about whether he was actually using any drugs or not, but I'll put that together in another post with some supporting documents.

I also found these court documents from 2009 relating to a patient that was hospitalized in the Timberlawn facility as a minor. She claims to have been raped by an older male patient due to inadequate supervision of the patients by staff and a lack of private space available to patients. No dates or ages are given, however, so it's impossible to know if this happened within the early 90s. However, if Jeremy Delle had survived until 2009 he would have been in his mid-20s, which is when childhood traumas begin to be understood by a maturing mind.

I'm not a lawyer and couldn't even pretend to be one on the internet, so I won't claim to understand anything about what is happening, but I can read through it and capture other facts about who, where, when, etc. If anybody with a better understanding of USA or Texas state law wants to shed some light on this that would be helpful.

I wasn't able to find any further information about the progress or outcomes of these cases, so I've chosen not to include the names of the staff accused, but they are included in the media coverage if anyone would like to search through news databases that aren't freely available online. I can only research the documents I can find, and unfortunately I don't have access to any academic databases at the moment, either.

My personal opinion is that whatever started Jeremy Delle down a troubled path started before he got to Timberlawn and the care of Dr. H.

I do think this line of research is important for understanding whether or not Mr. Delle received effective or adequate care as his mental illness spiraled out of control.

It strikes me that these stories about Timberlawn confirm and debunk some of the conceptions we have about this particular young man's life from the song written about him in 1991 by Eddie Vedder and Jason Ament. Jeremy Wade Delle was failed by everyone in his life with the power to help him as he started to sink under the waves of his illness. But his parents didn't ignore it completely, they tried to get him help. Maybe not when his illness first manifested, but as soon as his first 'cry for help' came in the form of a suicide attempt, they put him in a hospital that was known to be the best in their area. One with a developing, supposedly cutting edge, program for adolescents and those suffering from substance abuse. They most likely brought him home when the hospital said he was better. Sadly that might have had more to do with how long the hospital knew that insurance would foot the bill and not Mr. Delle's actual mental health.

The story is no less tragic than the story Pearl Jam spins in their song, but it's far more nuanced.

And it's still a great song.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Anti-government agitator Ammon Bundy must pay an Idaho hospital more than $50 million for defaming it and targeting it with protests while it cared for an associate’s grandson���who was taken into protective custody after child welfare officials determined he was malnourished.

In March of last year, Bundy was arrested for trespassing outside of St. Luke’s Meridian Medical Center, where 10-month-old “Baby Cyrus” was being treated. The then-gubernatorial candidate organized a week-long protest, claiming Cyrus was “medically kidnapped” over a “missed non-emergency doctor’s appointment.”

Two months later, St. Luke’s hospital filed a defamation suit against Bundy and Diego Rodriguez, the child’s grandpa and an activist in Bundy’s far-right People’s Rights Network (PRN). The complaint also named their companies, including Rodriguez’s Freedom Man Press, which posted Baby Cyrus “kidnapping videos.”

A jury delivered its verdict on Monday: Bundy, Rodriguez, and their companies would owe $26.5 million in compensatory damages and nearly $26 million in punitive damages.

Erik Stidham, an attorney for St. Luke’s, told jurors he thought the hospital deserved at least $16 million. “My hope is that you will look at this and you will deter (Bundy) in a way that he hasn’t been deterred yet,” Stidham said in closing arguments, according to the Idaho Statesman. He added that Bundy’s and Rodriguez’s entities were a “massive ugly machine built to make money and radicalize people.”

Known for armed standoffs with law enforcement, Bundy was a consistent no-show throughout the legal proceedings. In April, a judge issued a default judgment against Bundy and Rodriguez for failing to respond to the suit, leading Bundy to put out an emergency alert that falsely claimed cops surrounded his home and that beckoned his PRN disciples to show up to defend him.

As a result of the default, jurors in the two-week trial were tasked with deciding what damages Bundy and Rodriguez owed to the hospital system. They heard testimony from doctors and administrators about the men’s mob stoking fear among patients and families in the emergency room, and Life Flight pilots refusing to land at the facility, fearing shots from the armed crowd on the ground.

One pediatrician told the jury about the danger she believed Baby Cyrus was in: He allegedly couldn’t sit up, had a distended stomach and sunken eyes. “In my opinion, if he had been allowed to go home with his parents and continue on the trajectory he was on, he would have died,” Thomas testified, according to the Idaho Statesman.

Another doctor testified that Rodriguez’s website called her a “child trafficker,” and that she believed her family's safety was in jeopardy because of the online attacks.

“Today’s verdict is a moment of real accountability for Ammon Bundy and his reckless campaign against St. Luke’s,” said Lindsay Schubiner, Programs Director at the Western States Center, who was among the groups monitoring extremism to celebrate the outcome.

“His decision to target St. Luke’s and to use inflammatory, dishonest rhetoric about the hospital’s actions endangered both staff and patients. This verdict shows that the courts have the ability to treat this kind of threat with the seriousness it deserves.”

While Bundy and Rodriguez haven’t stepped foot in court, they’ve publicly commented on the controversy since the case was filed. “I’ve tried everything I could to make peace with St. Luke’s executives” and their attorneys, Bundy said in one February video, in which he shows off a pile of legal mail. “But they’ve rejected every offer of peace, every token of peace that I’ve offered to them. And they’ve actually come after Diego and I even harder.”

The lawsuit reveals St. Luke’s hospital sought punitive damages, and an award of at least $250,000 to each of the plaintiffs—which include a hospital executive, doctor, and nurse practitioner—from each of the defendants. If granted, Bundy, Rodriguez and their companies would have been on the hook for $7.5 million in damages.

“So what did these people do to earn this money, to deserve this money? Well, they participated in taking Baby Cyrus from his loving and caring parents,” Bundy said in his video. “And what did Diego and I do to deserve everything we own and more stripped from us? Well, we said bad things about them for taking Baby Cyrus away... things that were exposing them.”

Bundy then went on to conflate offerings of gender-affirming care for children at St. Luke’s to the hospital’s treatment of Cyrus, and noted St. Luke’s received millions from donations and COVID relief funds. “And what are they using it for?” he said. “They’re using it for things like child sex changes and to pay high-dollar attorneys to come after their political enemies.”

On July 10, the day the civil trial began, Bundy posted a letter to a new judge presiding over the trial. “Please, do not give rich and powerful people false justification to destroy my life,” Bundy wrote. “Please do not sanction a war that may end in innocent blood and require others to bring justice upon those who are responsible for shedding it.”

“May God bless you with the strength to do what is right and to let the consequences follow,” he concluded. “In the sacred name of Jesus Christ I write this letter.”

The conflict with St. Luke’s had become so antagonistic that Bundy was accused of threatening process servers and local deputies who delivered court papers, and one doctor expressed concern that witnesses would be too intimidated to participate in the case.

In his February video post, Bundy warned followers that St. Luke’s was trying to have him arrested. While a judge issued a warrant for Bundy in April over alleged witness intimidation, authorities never came for the 47-year-old provocateur. The Gem County sheriff, in a letter filed on the docket, said he didn’t want to risk deputies’ safety “over a civil issue.”

At one point, Bundy even appeared to threaten a standoff over the legal battle. “They’re probably going to try to get judgments of over a million dollars and take everything they have from me,” Bundy told one local news site in December. “And I’m not going to let that happen. I’m making moves to stop that from happening. And if I have to meet ’em on the front door with my, you know, friends and a shotgun, I’ll do that. They’re not going to take my property.”

For his part, Rodriguez challenged St. Luke’s lawyers on his Freedom Man website, writing that he was giving them “the chance to win in the court of public opinion.”

“You can win my public apology. You can win my retractions. You can get the pages on my website that you want taken down, REMOVED without a judgment or legal order. You can even get $50,000 for St. Luke’s right now. All you have to do is show the world where I have published any FACTUALLY inaccurate information, as I’ve already stated,” Rodriguez wrote.

But the hospital evidently wasn’t going to be cowed by far-right extremists.

In a fourth amended complaint, St. Luke’s argued that Bundy and Rodriguez were aiming to “benefit financially” and boost their political brands by launching a “knowingly dishonest and baseless smear campaign” against it. This campaign, the suit alleges, “claimed Idaho State employees, the judiciary, the police, primary care providers, and the St. Luke’s Parties engaged in widespread kidnapping, trafficking, sexual abuse, and killing of Idaho children.”

The lawsuit argued that Bundy and Rodriguez used Cyrus’ case “to spread their lies and further their agendas,” as they portrayed themselves as “crusaders” against their manufactured “state-sponsored child kidnapping and trafficking ring.” The men, according to the suit, directed their followers to dox and harass St. Luke’s employees.

Meanwhile, Rodriguez is accused of lying to followers about Cyrus’s care, claiming the baby had a “100% clean bill of health” when authorities took him into custody and that his parents had only missed one doctor’s visit. He also falsely claimed a St. Luke’s pediatrician had reported the parents to the Idaho Department of Health and Welfare.

The trouble began when Bundy and his flock entered the hospital’s ambulance bay at around 1:30 a.m. on a Saturday in March, the complaint says; they began cursing at staff and police, blocking patients’ access to the facility and filming the episode for social media.

“Recognizing that Bundy’s followers were growing more numerous and menacing, a hospital supervisor tried to reason with Bundy and deescalate the situation,” the complaint says. “For the benefit of those there to film him, Bundy responded by accusing the supervisor of kidnapping and then demanded that he give Bundy the Infant.”

“Bundy knew full well he had no legal authority to make that demand because he had no parental rights over the Infant.”

Cops arrested Bundy about a half hour later for refusing to move. After his release from custody, Bundy quickly began to publicize his confrontation and later beefed up a “false narrative” about St. Luke’s, the lawsuit states. (Bundy took a plea deal in the trespass criminal case, receiving a $1,000 fine and suspended 90-day jail sentence.)

The lawsuit lists a slew of defamatory statements from Bundy and Rodriguez, including that the hospital was “world famous” for “killing people” and “stealing babies from their parents” and that it forced Cyrus to ingest a “toxic poison.” Bundy also allegedly claimed that St. Luke’s had targeted the baby because of Bundy’s objection to COVID “corruption.”

The hospital argues the duo’s stunt disrupted its operations and harmed staff and patients. According to the suit, the men called on their devotees, many of whom were armed, to protest in front of the hospital for a week before Cyrus was released. Rodriguez “became a daily presence,” holding press conferences outside the building, the complaint says.

Rodriguez would go on to solicit $115,000 in donations by falsely claiming the hospital was “performing unnecessary medical tests and treatments” to prolong the baby’s time in the hospital and extort the uninsured parents, the lawsuit continues. (The hospital, however, claims that Medicaid covered Cyrus’s bills and his family “never paid anything for and owe nothing for the care” received at St. Luke’s.)

Bundy’s campaign allegedly caused St. Luke’s to go on lockdown for more than an hour and for patients to be routed to other facilities. The followers also flooded St. Luke’s phone lines and email accounts with menacing communications and death threats.

But the alleged smears didn’t stop after Cyrus went home. St. Luke’s argues that Bundy and Rodriguez continued to capitalize on the episode, creating a group called “People Against Child Trafficking” and holding a rally where they further defamed the hospital, comparing its employees to “feudal lords” practicing “primae noctis.”

The complaint highlights the men’s possible financial windfall in their war against the hospital, noting that Bundy generates funds “by marketing himself as an anti-government, quasi-religious leader” through his 60,000-member PRN and uses at least two corporate entities: Dono Custos, Inc. and Abish-husbondi. Inc.

“The potential revenue to Bundy is significant,” the lawsuit says. “If each member of PRN annually contributes just $50 to Bundy through Dono Custos, Bundy could pocket more than $3,000,0000 [sic] per year.” It adds that entities owned by Bundy and Rodriguez received money from Bundy’s gubernatorial campaign.

As for Rodriguez, the complaint adds, money streams in through his Freedom Tabernacle, “which purports to be a church but is used as an entity to receive contributions, dues, or payments from members of PRN.” According to the legal filing, the church requires “members ‘tithe’ 10% of their earnings.” Another of Rodriguez’s entities, Power Marketing, hawks “three-day ‘training’ courses” for $15,000 per student.

“In fact, even after the Infant was returned to the Infant’s parents,” the suit alleges, “Rodriguez and Bundy have continued to exploit the Infant by incessantly marketing the Infant and his likeness through social media and alternative media to promote PRN, Bundy in campaign advertising, and Rodriguez and his multiplicity of sales schemes.”

[crack-art-n-stuff]

Ch. 1 - Illusion of Excellence

Kurogami University, an elite institution nestled within the heart of Japan, exuded an aura of prestige and grandeur. Its meticulously landscaped gardens, adorned with vibrant cherry blossoms and modern architecture, painted a picture of academic brilliance and success. For you, a young and ambitious student, this was a dream come true.Usually, only those of privilege were the ones who even had a chance of tasting the possibility. 

You weren’t much different in that aspect. One of your aunts was a bank CEO. She made a generous donation to help get you in, along with your decent grades and recommendations.

As you stepped foot onto the campus grounds, you could feel  the excitement in your veins. Tales of Kurogami’s excellence had reached far and wide and were not lost on you. From its distinguished faculty, diverse educational programs, to their endless opportunities. To you, attending this prestigious university meant a chance to escape your more humble background and begin to make your mark on your desired industry.

First things first, you need to drop your stuff off at your dorm. Like most people, you tried to keep your luggage to one or two bags, as extra personnel were prohibited from entering campus grounds without prior authorization. Besides, there were several stores and markets within a short distance from the campus. So, it wouldn’t have been too inconvenient to make new purchases for your needs. 

As you carried your duffle bag across the courtyard, you noticed some of the uniformed figures with blue arm bands, seemingly directioning people. One of them must know where your dorm was. What was it again? Oh yeah! That one.

Approaching someone, you waved your hands towards them. “Excuse me, I’m looking for-”

They interrupted you without hesitation after giving you a quick glance up and down, “Freshmen are supposed to head to the main auditorium for assignments. Please follow the signs.”

“Huh? But I already know my-”

“Please follow the sign to the main auditorium for freshmen assignments”, they repeated, projecting their voice more. You could tell they were trying to tell any freshmen in the vicinity, but it felt like they were just yelling in your face.

Looking towards the similarly dressed figures, you saw their actions mirrored the one in front of you. With a sigh, you looked around and followed the cutely decorated signs. It had cute origami flowers and butterflies lining it, accented with painted petals along the writing. 

Following along, you started feeling the weight of your baggage weighing on your shoulder. You take a minute to drop your bag and massage your shoulder. Why did the hallway feel so endlessly? How did you fail to realize how large the facilities actually were?

Finally, you heard the loud chattering of young adults. You hurried along, worried about missing anything. Your also casually dressed peers didn’t hide their status, even in mundane outfits. You saw name brand shoes, suitcases, a noticeable shine from jewelry. Should you have done the same? You assumed you would get your uniforms early on and didn’t particularly care about your outfit’s first impression. 

Others didn’t seem to pay much mind at the moment, so busy conversing among themselves while others were also busy trying to catch their breaths. Making your way into the room, the doors quickly closed behind you. The shudders fell on the upper windows and a spotlight shone on a woman.

She was pristinely dressed, a white hidden-button down shirt, deep navy pleated pants, finished off with a match navy blazer that hung on her shoulders. Her wavy blonde hair was tied in a lazy low ponytail she let rest on her shoulder. From your place at the far door, it was a bit difficult to see everything clearly, even if you had 20/20 vision. Moving across the stage from the far left, she was followed by the light to the podium, clearing her throat in the mic.

“Good afternoon, freshmen”, all you could hear was her trained professionalism, “I’m going to keep this short since I’m sure you’d all like to rest and get used to your surroundings. You are not here for your dorm assignments.”

You could already hear a few soft groans from those that wished to rest immediately but you heard her give an amused hum as a response before continuing.

“You are here for your rank assignments.”

Huh? Ranks?

“You have been sorted in different dorms based on your chosen majors. Heartavica for fine and liberal arts. Spadela for mathematics and sciences. Clovire for athletics and manual trades. And Diamonganto for business and law. Should you choose to change majors, you will be moved into the proper dorm building. However…”

Her amused tone morphed into something dark and more sadistic. Even if you didn’t make eye contact with her, you felt her eyes send a chill up your spine. 

“You are permitted to change majors only twice. And only in your first two years here. After that, all major changes will not be accepted.”

“Seriously?”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh? I’m still a freshman.”

“But isn’t the payoff kind of worth it?”

You couldn’t help but agree with some of them. You were already starting college. What’s with the extra pressure? Though, could you say you’re that surprised? While applying, you couldn’t apply as undecided. You just went with what you felt like you could do best and make money. You just hoped you made the right decision.

The woman leaned forwards, “However, rest assured that we will provide the resources you require to succeed. Now then…”

You will be ranked based on a card deck. Ranks are Aces, Faces, and Numbers. As you leave, you will receive your school provided phone.Log in to your school, register it as yours. The same setup as always. You will receive your rank and dorm number in an email. Any questions can be asked to your dorm heads or a faculty member.”

You’re all dismissed. Get comfortable and rest well.” Then she turned to leave, back the way she came. The shades rolled up the windows. 

That was…quite the first introduction.

You expected the university to be a bit strange, due to some rumors. But you wanted to dismiss them for being just conjecture and idle gossip. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned around when you heard the doors open. You were one of, if not the, first to get your phone. While you were still processing the sudden info drop, you still felt both nervousness and excitement surge through you as you logged in and registered.

You didn’t entirely understand yet, but you could sense the weight of the rank system before officially knowing your own part in it.

You took some deep breaths before tightening your grip on your phone. No. You had to calm down. If you could put off knowing for a little longer, you might’ve. But you had to look now to know your dorm. After looking at the email, you saw your dorm and rank were-

.

.

.

.

.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. There. I took twisted wonderland inspiration, mixed in some Classroom of the Elite and Kakegurui, yeet it in the oven, set the kitchen on fire, and this is whatever was left over after the fire department left.

I don’t know, man. I’m kind of proud of how it turned out, but I don’t have any real confidence in it. I’m open to any constructive criticism or feedback.

[residenteviltimeline]

June 30, 2013: Chris and Piers arrive on the oil rig off the coast of Lanshiang where Sherry and Jake were supposedly taken, and enter the massive underwater facility it is concealing. Once inside, they manage to free Sherry and Jake using the facility’s computer system, but in the process discover that Carla had programmed the facility to self-destruct in the event that she died before she was able to release Haos, a massive bioweapon housed in the lab that will be capable of spreading the C virus to the entire world within weeks. As they search for a way to stop it, they meet Sherry and Jake. Chris’ PTSD guilt gets the better of him, and he confesses to Jake that he not only knew his father, but was also the one to kill him. In response, Jake pulls a gun on him, despite having stated multiple times that he didn’t care for his father even before he knew who he was, and definitely not being a fan of his whole almost-ended-the-world thing. Chris just stands there and lets Jake shoot near his face, though this is in character, because he’s depressed as all hell. Piers nearly attacks Jake, but Sherry puts a stop to the conflict, reminding them that they need to act like human beings and figure out how to deal with the crisis at hand. At that moment, Haos is awoken, and the self-destruct sequence begins, with numerous explosions rocking the facility. They are soon separated by an explosion, and Chris tells Sherry to escape with Jake so a vaccine for the C virus can be made, as he and Piers deal with Haos. The pair make their way towards the surface, but are attacked by the Ustanak, which has tracked them to the facility. They are able to kill it together, and escape to the surface. Still underwater, Chris and Piers witness Haos emerge from a nearly 200-foot C virus cocoon, learning that it is merely in the stages of infancy as they desperately search for a way to kill it. They soon run out of time, as Haos begins to chase them through the facility. They are eventually cornered, and both sustain heavy injuries in the ensuing fight. Piers is caught in an explosion, and a piece of rubble pins his right arm, nearly severing it. As Chris tries to defend him, he is caught by Haos and nearly killed. Desperate, Piers manages to reach the case of Enhanced C virus samples they had taken from Carla Radames’ body, and injects himself. He mutates, gaining the ability to fire powerful electrical impulses from his damaged arm, which has become a trident-like appendage. He is able to incapacitate Haos and save Chris, but as the pair make their way to the facility’s escape pods, knowing that his mutation will worsen in time and he will lose his mind, Piers decides to stay behind. At the last possible second, he shoves Chris into an escape pod and launches it before he is able to stop him. As the pod heads towards the surface, Haos comes flying after it, only to be electrocuted by Piers from the escape pod bay. It falls back into the lab just in time to be caught in the massive explosion resulting from its self-destruct, destroying it for good. Chris makes it to the surface alone as the new day dawns, clutching the BSAA patch Piers tore off his jacket and gave to Chris before he died. With this reminder of the purpose behind their fight, Chris decides to continue on, rather than retire as he originally intended.

[burnwater13]

Boba Fett instructing the Sandpeople on the direction of travel as they go after spice runners. The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 2, The Tribes of Tatooine. Calendar from DataWorks.

“Ready? Set? GO!”

At least that’s what Grogu thought was going on when Daimyo Fett described the situation, that got all the Sandpeople to line up on the speeder bikes that way. 

“Ready, set go? No, young one, that is not what I was saying to them. But I see your point. When the Clones were training on Kamino, they held many foot races and that is how they would start. I was telling them the direction and what to expect. We were going after spice runners. Those scum have always been a problem on Tatooine.”

“Boss, that may be true but the spice trade paid for a lot of the amenities here, including that bacta tank you’re so fond of.”

Grogu didn’t really know why that mattered. After all, the Jedi built almost all of their temples on top of old Sith temples. Just because something was bad didn’t mean everything to do with it was bad, or did it? Grogu wasn’t sure. 

He decided to ask his dad, who had just entered the room, with the Majordomo following him, talking a klick a minute while some how managing to sputter and sound apologetic.

“Hey, Fett. Your … uh… man here, says I can’t park the N1 in the forecourt. I’m willing to move it, but to where? I don’t want anyone taking pot shots at it.”

“Is this true?” Daimyo Fett aimed his question at Majordomo who was already bowing and trying to look small and unassuming. 

Grogu giggled at that. There was no way for a man that tall with lekku that long to look small or unassuming. 

“Remember Boss, I have that work crew coming in to do some improvements. No way are we letting anyone access to facility the same way we did when we retrieved your ship.”

“What are doing? Adding a pit trap and spikes?” 

Grogu tried not to laugh as he watched Fennec physically bristle at his dad’s suggestion and turn to the Majordomo and scold him for blabbing.

“Fennec, there’s no reason to use language like that in front of the child. He looks up to you, you know.”

Grogu smiled at the Daimyo. That was a nice sentiment but completely unnecessary. He liked Fennec just the way she was.

“He has to look up at everyone, Boss. Listen, Tin Man, just park your ship behind the rancor yard. We don’t have any bantha right now, so you won’t have to share it.”

Grogu was about to scold Fennec for the short joke, when he heard the rest of what she said. The bantha were gone? Where were they? When were they coming back? Why were they gone?!

“Now, now, young one. Don’t worry about the bantha. The tribe that you and your dad befriended near Freetown asked if they could add the few head we had here to their breeding program. We had two females and they could use them to help add to the over all population of banthas. After they have been bred they will be coming back here.”

“Won’t that be nice? Baby critters that are as big as a speeder when they’re born. But that won’t be for months. In the mean time that’s where you can…”

Grogu didn’t hear anything else Fennec said. The prospect of having baby banthas at the palace was almost overwhelming. He loved baby critters. They were so sweet and smelled so good and maybe, if he was very lucky he could have one of them imprint on him and he’d be able to ride it without having his dad tag along all the time. That would be so great. He could see himself making his way from Freetown to Mos Espa the way the Sandpeople had traveled for millennia. 

“Buddy, before you take your flight of fancy to Coruscant and back, I’m gonna remind you that all bantha are the property of the Sandpeople and they need daily care. We don’t spend enough time here for you to be adopted by one.”

Grogu sighed and sat down abruptly. His dad had really popped the bubble that had been forming all around the idea of being a bantha baby minder. Dank Farrik.

“Tell me, Din Djarin, how did you know that’s what he was thinking?”

Daimyo Fett asked quietly, just not quietly enough.

“He was holding his hands in the air and moving them like he was holding the reins of their rig. I could also tell that he was muttering something like ‘forward’ over and over. He does the same thing whenever people talk about that rancor of yours.”

“He’s just practicing for the first time he rides a Mythosaur. Lucky for you two he’s going to be a benevolent Mand’alor.”

Grogu could hear Fennec’s laughter, but strangely his dad and the Daimyo were both silent. He wondered what that meant.

[beardedmrbean]

MORGANTOWN, Pa (AP) — Nine teenagers who escaped from a detention center in Pennsylvania after overpowering staff and crawling under a fence were captured less than 12 hours later, state police said Monday.

All will be charged with escape, and some may face other charges.

“It probably was planned, but poorly planned,” said Pennsylvania State Police Trooper David Beohm.

Beohm said the first four were taken into custody shortly before 6 a.m. after they went to a residence and knocked on the door. They turned themselves in because they were cold and tired, Beohm said.

The other five were captured after police received a report of a stolen truck, and “a sort of pursuit” took place, Beohm said. Four youths were taken into custody from the vehicle and a fifth, who took off on foot, was caught in a field a short time later.

State and local police were called late Sunday to take control of the juvenile center in Morgantown, about 50 miles (80 kilometers) northwest of Philadelphia. Beohm said the escape happened after the teen boys, all between the ages of 15 and 17, wrested the keys away from staff.

Abraxas Academy is a secure residential treatment program providing “specialized care for delinquent male youth between the ages of 14 to 18 in 9th grade or above,” according to the facility’s website.

The escape follows the capture of an escaped murderer who eluded Pennsylvania authorities for several days despite an extended manhunt.

But Beohm said the teenagers likely didn’t have the desperation or motivation of someone like Danilo Souza Cavalcante, a murderer with a life sentence who escaped from a Pennsylvania jail and eluded law enforcement for two weeks before his capture on Sept. 13.

“I figured we’d catch these kids because they are not as resilient” as Cavalacante, Beohm said at a press conference.

Cavalacante escaped from the Chester County jail in southeastern Pennsylvania on Aug. 31 by crab-walking up between two walls that were topped with razor wire, and then jumping from the roof.

[nurselearn]

What advantage is it to a nursing home to accept patients who are on Medicaid?

A nursing home may choose to accept patients who are on Medicaid, the government-funded health insurance program for people with low income, because it can provide them with a reliable source of revenue. Medicaid pays for long-term care services provided in nursing homes and some assisted living facilities, which can help to cover the costs of providing care to these patients.

Some other potential advantages that a nursing home may experience when accepting patients on Medicaid include:

An increased census: Accepting Medicaid patients can help to fill beds in the nursing home, which is important for maintaining a stable financial footing.

Diversifying payer mix: By accepting a mix of patients with different types of insurance coverage, a nursing home may be able to better spread financial risk and reduce the impact of changes in reimbursement rates from any one payer.

Fulfilling a social responsibility: Many nursing homes are non-profit organizations or are government-funded, so accepting Medicaid patients can be seen as fulfilling their social responsibility to provide care for vulnerable population.

Helping to address a community need: Medicaid patients may not have other options for long-term care, and a nursing home that accepts these patients may be helping to address a need in the community.

It's worth to note that there are rules, regulations and reimbursement rates that vary from state to state and country to country that nursing homes must comply with when accepting Medicaid patients. In addition, there are also limitations on the type of care that Medicaid covers, and nursing homes need to ensure that they have the resources and staff to provide the necessary level of care

[destinationhope]

Intensive Outpatient Program in Florida by Destination Hope

Destination Hope’s Intensive Outpatient Program set the standard for substance abuse IOP in Florida and nationwide. The Intensive Outpatient Program level of care is similar to Partial Hospitalization and often follows it in a typical clients stay with us. The primary difference is the number of hours spent in treatment. At the IOP level, clients may attend therapy and counseling 4 days a week and typically in half day sessions.

Essentially, the Intensive Outpatient Program allows them to continue to benefit from the program structure, rehabilitation education, individual assessments, and ongoing support.  But it also allows them to step one foot back out into the world. This type of treatment offers intermediate support and is typically viewed as a transitional step to help people bridge the gap between full-time residential treatment and their return to independent living. Many clients choose outpatient care because it allows them to continue living their regular lives. If you believe you have an exceptional degree of commitment to your sobriety and a strong support system at home, you can be successful in an outpatient care program. One often-overlooked benefit of outpatient care is that you get to put the coping strategies you learn into action right way. This can help reinforce your new set of skills and incorporate them into your life.

The DH IOP Program

Our Intensive Outpatient Program at Destination Hope has been created to provide clients continued treatment at a lower levels of care while receiving individualized treatment plans, goals and objectives, with their assigned primary therapist upon admission. Clients are expected to attend a minimum of 9 hours per week consisting of individual, group and family sessions.

Our program schedule offers both daytime and evening hours to accommodate those in early recovery that are or will begin working. Our hours are as follows: Monday-Thursday 11:0AM-2:00PM or Monday-Thursday 5:00PM-8:00PM. All clients admitted into our IOP program will have availability to follow-up with a psychiatrist once weekly for medication management and any mental health concerns that may arise while in our program.

Services provided at the IOP level of care include: individual therapy, group therapy, continued nutritional management, wellness services (including yoga, meditation, Qigong), aftercare planning, case management, vocational rehabilitation services, access to alumni events and continued support via weekly alumni meetings. All clients within our IOP program will be screened weekly via urinalysis to maintain abstinence from any mind/mood altering substances.  All clinicians in our IOP program are Masters level and/or licensed in the field of mental health counseling.

How Do I Know If I Need Outpatient Drug Treatment?

When applying for admission to a drug treatment program, individuals are carefully assessed to determine precisely what kind of care they will need. The severity and duration of the substance abuse, as well as the type of substance, will be major factors in this decision. Other factors like job, family, and proximity to the facility are taken into consideration, in order to minimize stressors. The admissions staff will determine the appropriate duration, what kind of treatment will be offered, and the frequency of visits. A typical program might last for six weeks, with the individual attending sessions five nights a week.

Reasons to Return to Outpatient Drug Treatment There are a number of reasons why you may decide to return to outpatient drug treatment. You are going through a particularly stressful time (such as family troubles or a very stressful holiday season) and you find that your recovery is not as stable as it used to be You have used a substance – even a sip of alcohol You find yourself feeling overwhelmed by the temptation of triggers You have begun to experience the strong emotions that contributed to your substance use before you went to treatment Whatever the reason, it is important that you return to treatment if your recovery is in need of reinforcement. 

Does Outpatient Drug Treatment Work? 

There are a few myths that have led some people to believe that outpatient drug treatment is not effective. Outpatient treatment is right for everyone. Not true! Part of the success of outpatient treatment involves the appropriate placement during admission. Some people are more suited to inpatient treatment and an admissions specialist should be able to help. Clients are faced with too many temptations during treatment. True, some temptations remain, but so is the desire to recover. The relationships formed in the outpatient drug treatment program are not as strong as with the inpatient drug treatment program. This is not necessarily true. Outpatients will participate in group therapy sessions, support groups and more – they will have the opportunity to develop meaningful relationships. The bottom line? Outpatient drug treatment can work if it’s the appropriate treatment level.  Visit the Destination Hope website to know more about the Intensive Outpatient Program in Florida and nation wide.