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opencommunion · 7 months ago

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"The story of 'John Doe 1' of the Democratic Republic of the Congo is tucked in a lawsuit filed five years ago against several U.S. tech companies, including Tesla, the world’s largest electric vehicle producer. In a country where the earth hides its treasures beneath its surface, those who chip away at its bounty pay an unfair price. As a pre-teen, his family could no longer afford to pay his $6 monthly school fee, leaving him with one option: a life working underground in a tunnel, digging for cobalt rocks. But soon after he began working for roughly two U.S. dollars per day, the child was buried alive under the rubble of a collapsed mine tunnel. His body was never recovered.

The nation, fractured by war, disease, and famine, has seen more than 6 million people die since the mid-1990s, making the conflict the deadliest since World War II. But, in recent years, the death and destruction have been aided by the growing number of electric vehicles humming down American streets. In 2022, the U.S., the world’s third-largest importer of cobalt, spent nearly $525 million on the mineral, much of which came from the Congo.

As America’s dependence on the Congo has grown, Black-led labor and environmental organizers here in the U.S. have worked to build a transnational solidarity movement. Activists also say that the inequities faced in the Congo relate to those that Black Americans experience. And thanks in part to social media, the desire to better understand what’s happening in the Congo has grown in the past 10 years. In some ways, the Black Lives Matter movement first took root in the Congo after the uprising in Ferguson in 2014, advocates say. And since the murder of George Floyd and the outrage over the Gaza war, there has been an uptick in Congolese and Black American groups working on solidarity campaigns.

Throughout it all, the inequities faced by Congolese people and Black Americans show how the supply chain highlights similar patterns of exploitation and disenfranchisement. ... While the American South has picked up about two-thirds of the electric vehicle production jobs, Black workers there are more likely to work in non-unionized warehouses, receiving less pay and protections. The White House has also failed to share data that definitively proves whether Black workers are receiving these jobs, rather than them just being placed near Black communities. 'Automakers are moving their EV manufacturing and operations to the South in hopes of exploiting low labor costs and making higher profits,' explained Yterenickia Bell, an at-large council member in Clarkston, Georgia, last year. While Georgia has been targeted for investment by the Biden administration, workers are 'refusing to stand idly by and let them repeat a cycle that harms Black communities and working families.'

... Of the 255,000 Congolese mining for cobalt, 40,000 are children. They are not only exposed to physical threats but environmental ones. Cobalt mining pollutes critical water sources, plus the air and land. It is linked to respiratory illnesses, food insecurity, and violence. Still, in March, a U.S. court ruled on the case, finding that American companies could not be held liable for child labor in the Congo, even as they helped intensify the prevalence. ... Recently, the push for mining in the Congo has reached new heights because of a rift in China-U.S. relations regarding EV production. Earlier this month, the Biden administration issued a 100% tariff on Chinese-produced EVs to deter their purchase in the U.S. Currently, China owns about 80% of the legal mines in the Congo, but tens of thousands of Congolese work in 'artisanal' mines outside these facilities, where there are no rules or regulations, and where the U.S. gets much of its cobalt imports. 'Cobalt mining is the slave farm perfected,' wrote Siddharth Kara last year in the award-winning investigative book Cobalt Red: How The Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives. 'It is a system of absolute exploitation for absolute profit.' While it is the world’s richest country in terms of wealth from natural resources, Congo is among the poorest in terms of life outcomes. Of the 201 countries recognized by the World Bank Group, it has the 191st lowest life expectancy."

#antiblackness #colonialism #imperialism #turtle island #congo #library

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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I’m Not Jealous!

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: you’re definitely not jealous of how your boyfriend and his teammate are eye-fucking each other … nope

Note: thank you to the brilliant @struggling-with-drivers for this amazing idea, I love you so much ❤️

You can’t take your eyes off Lando and Oscar as they chat animatedly in the McLaren motorhome after qualifying. The way they lean towards each other, the spark of energy crackling between them, the bright gleam in their eyes — it makes your chest tighten with a strange jealousy.

They’re so wrapped up in their conversation, casually touching each other’s arms for emphasis, that they don’t even notice you approaching. You clear your throat pointedly.

“Oh, hey babe!” Lando glances up with a warm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s still buzzing from the adrenaline of the session, and you know how much he lives for these intense post-qualifying debriefs with his teammate.

Oscar throws you an acknowledging nod but doesn’t break his intense eye contact with Lando. “We were just going over the data from ...”

You cut him off with an impatient wave of your hand. “I don’t care about the data. Can I talk to my boyfriend for two seconds?”

Lando blinks in surprise at your curt tone but recovers quickly with a teasing grin. “Someone’s feeling jealous.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side with a gentle squeeze.

You stiffen, hating how easily he can read you sometimes. “I am not jealous.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Lando rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Then why are you pouting like a petulant child?”

“I’m not pouting!” You protest, very much aware that your lower lip has surged into an exaggerated protrusion. You shoot Oscar a venomous glare when he fails to stifle a snort of laughter.

Lando laughs too, that bright, infectious giggle that somehow simultaneously melts and irritates you. “Aww, baby, you don’t have to be jealous of Oscar. We both have girlfriends, remember? You’re my one and only.”

He kisses your cheek with an audible smacking sound, as if to emphasize his point. But the reassurance doesn’t land — if anything, it makes you more prickly.

“Doesn’t feel like it when you two are constantly eye-fucking each other,” you grumble petulantly.

Lando blinks, his smile faltering briefly into an almost comically exaggerated expression of surprise. Then he exchanges a loaded glance with Oscar, the two of them breaking into wide grins.

“What?” You demand, feeling your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and irritation. Did you really just say that out loud?

“Nothing, nothing,” Lando says quickly, still grinning wolfishly. “It’s just … eye-fucking, huh? Is that what you think we’re doing?”

“Well it certainly looks like it!” You retort, frantically trying to backpedal. “With all the intense staring and lingering touches and private jokes ...”

Lando’s grin stretches even wider, if that’s possible. “You’re just jealous because you want my undivided attention, aren’t you?”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized by his blunt words despite how accurate they are. “I … no!”

The protest rings pathetically hollow, even to your own ears. Lando sees right through you, as always. He cups your burning cheek, tsking softly.

“Aww, baby, you’re all needy and flustered now, aren’t you?” His tone is warm, almost purred, sending a shiver rippling through you. “It’s okay, I get it. Who could resist wanting every second of my time?”

You huff out a petulant breath, but it’s impossible to stay irritated when he’s gazing at you with such open affection. “You’re an ass.”

“Maybe.” Lando shrugs cheerfully. “But I’m your ass.” He leans in until his lips are brushing your ear, voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “And tonight, I’ll be giving you every second of my undivided attention.”

A full-body shiver races through you at the heated promise in his tone. You’re abruptly, acutely aware of Oscar watching this whole exchange with a smirk.

“Get a room, you two,” he drawls, not even trying to hide his amusement.

Lando barks out a laugh, pulling back just enough to wink roguishly at you. “Don’t mind if we do.”

“Wait, here? Now?” You squeak out, suddenly flustered all over again as he takes your hand and starts tugging you toward the back of the motorhome.

“Why not?” Lando flashes you a cheeky grin over his shoulder. “I told you, baby — I’m all yours tonight. No more sharing me with anyone else. Just you and me.”

He pauses with his hand on the doorknob to the private room, giving you a slow once-over that makes your skin prickle with delicious heat.

“And I plan to give you my complete … undivided … attention.”

The husky emphasis he puts on those last few words sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You can’t resist stealing a quick glance over at Oscar, who has the decency to look away with a badly concealed smirk.

Then Lando is hauling you through the door and slamming it shut behind you, pressing you up against it as his mouth instantly finds yours in a searing kiss. You melt against him with a breathless moan, all thoughts of jealousy evaporating like mist as his hands roam hungrily over your body.

When you finally break for air, Lando’s eyes are dark with a blazing intensity usually reserved for the racetrack. He brushes a few stray strands of hair from your flushed face with uncharacteristic tenderness.

“You have nothing to be jealous of, you know,” he murmurs gruffly. “Oscar’s my teammate, my rival, almost like a brother to me … but you’re the love of my life. You’ll always come first.”

The raw sincerity in his words steals your breath. You can only nod mutely, suddenly blinking back stupid, overwhelming tears of relief and adoration.

Lando seems to understand. He just smiles that heart-melting smile and guides you toward the small sofa, settling you onto his lap and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap snugly around you, holding you close, making you feel deliciously secure and wanted.

“I’m sorry I got jealous and petty,” you mumble, tentatively running your fingers through his sweat-damp curls. “I know how intense your connection with Oscar is on the track. I was just being stupid ...”

“No, no.” Lando cuts you off firmly, pulling back to meet your gaze. “Your feelings are never stupid, baby. If I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, that’s on me.”

He punctuates his words with a soft, lingering kiss that deepens into something hungrier and needier when you clutch at the back of his neck, wanting him closer, closer ...

Some indeterminable time later, you reluctantly break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both pant for breath. Lando brushes his nose against yours, his eyes practically glowing with devotion.

“I really do love you, you know,” he murmurs, almost shyly. As if he hasn’t already made that abundantly clear a million times over. “More than anything. Or anyone.”

You hum contentedly, snuggling deeper into his embrace. You can feel the steadiness of his heartbeat, a reassuring counterpoint to the pleasant ache of desire still thrumming through your veins.

“I know. And I love you too.” You pause, tracing the line of his jaw tenderly. “Even when I’m being jealous and ridiculous.”

Lando throws his head back with a rich peal of laughter that warms you all the way to your toes.

“Good thing I love you even more when you’re being jealous and ridiculous, then,” he quips, sticking his tongue out impishly.

You swat at his shoulder with a scowl that quickly melts into a reluctant grin, unable to stay annoyed in the face of his boyish charm and unabashed affection.

You know, deep down, that you really don’t have anything to be jealous of — not with the way Lando holds you close and gazes at you like you’re the only person in the world. Still, it’s reassuring having the confirmation out in the open.

You snuggle deeper into his chest, basking in the comfortable silence and closeness. Lando’s fingers idly trace patterns across your back as you breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp tang of adrenaline.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs eventually, breaking the peaceful quiet. There’s a rare vulnerability in his voice that makes your heart squeeze. “This life … the racing, the fame, the constant pressure … it would all be meaningless if I didn’t have you by my side.”

You tilt your head back to study his earnest expression, struck by the depth of emotion simmering in his warm multi-colored eyes. Impulsively, you reach up to cup his cheek, marveling at how easily he leans into your touch.

In these unguarded moments, it’s hard to reconcile this open, sensitive soul with the fierce, single-minded racer who commands a global spotlight. You feel extraordinarily privileged to be one of the few people who gets to see Lando like this — soft, devoted, his heart laid bare.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whisper back fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere, Lando. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

His smile is blinding, making your breath catch. Then his lips are on yours again, kiss brimming with a potent mixture of gratitude, need, and sheer adoration that steals your breath.

When you finally break apart, twin smiles of pure contentment tug at both your mouths. Lando loops his arms loosely around your waist, hands splaying across the small of your back as he simply holds you close and takes a moment to drink you in.

You watch the play of emotions flit across his expressive features — affection, longing, bone-deep satisfaction at having you here, now, anchored in his embrace. A sense of peace and belonging washes over you, chasing away any lingering shadows of jealousy or doubt.

This is where you belong. This is your heart’s home, right here in Lando’s arms, sharing his joy and success and weathering the storms alongside him. A love like this — passionate yet grounded, all-consuming yet secure — is worth fighting for.

You may occasionally get prickly twinges of irrational jealousy. You may bicker and tease and test each other’s patience to its limits. But at the end of the day, you know there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be.

Lando seems to read your mind, his grin taking on a distinctly smug edge as his fingers trace deliciously distracting patterns along your spine.

“See?” He murmurs. “Eye-fucking the teammate is all well and good … but this?” He punctuates the words by pulling you flush against him, letting you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal. “This is what I really want. What I’ll always want, baby.”

You can’t resist rolling your eyes at his signature cockiness, even as you melt against him with a soft hum of contentment. Typical Lando — somehow managing to be both charming and infuriatingly self-satisfied at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, unable to keep the goofy smile off your face. “I get it, casanova. Now shut up and kiss me already.”

His answering laugh is pure sunshine, bright and carefree. Then he’s pulling you down into another heated kiss, effectively silencing any lingering self-doubt or jealousy.

This — the two of you, tangled up in each other with no barriers or secrets, just pure affection and insatiable desire — is what true love feels like. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

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the-final-sif · 1 year ago

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Dream's Response Summary

Dream posted a response to various accusations, covering just about everything ever because he was done with this shit. I've done my best to summarize it here, but I recommend going and watching his whole video. This is going to be extremely summarized for readability and I'm only going to cover stuff I consider serious so anything about speedrunning is getting skipped.

The tl:dr is: Dream never groomed anyone or had inappropriate contact with anyone underage, he provided proof that one accuser flat out lied, and the other ""accusation"" was from a third party who was never involved. The actual supposed victim released a statement that they were never groomed, nor a victim in any way, never was asked about someone sharing information about them, and wants everyone to shut the fuck up.

Police were never actually contacted, both twitter accounts were lying about doing so to make their claims seem real. Also the supposed snapchat video shown is a very obvious fake.

He covers Manatreed, the run down is the guy was a childhood best friend he grew up with and who was struggling with homelessness. Dream helped him, and never knew about the battery charge (Manatreed had lied to him about it). When Dream spoke to Manatreed's ex girlfriend, she was very clear she never wanted any of this publicly out there, that she was happy that Dream had been helping Manatreed and she wanted the best for him.

Dream still doesn't know exactly what happened with that situation, he has since lost contract with Manatreed, all he knows is he was trying to help a childhood friend and got lied to.

The first allegation from Oxy/Anastasia, he's extremely clear they only ever messaged in twitter dms and he disproves the claim about the texts/tik tok. He has a google voice number hooked up to his tik tok account for obvious reasons, and she was showing imessage texts. This is not possible, which means she was lying.

As part of this, Dream scrolls through his twitter dms and shows he responds to fans all the time and talks to people in his community from all over. He also shows how he's friends with and has hired people that were fans of his, including people like Foolish.

He discusses Amanda, the two of them messaged on instagram back when he was a much smaller creator. He showed/posted the transcript of the two of them talking about normal stuff. They had been messaging since 2020. He did attempt to post a complete transcript of those messages, but she had deleted some of her messages and he doesn't have a way to recover them.

Dream explains that Instagram has a "feature" where if you ever reply to someone, then you literally cannot remove their ability to message you without blocking them. Something I did not know about instagram and which is fucking wild.

Since he replied to her in 2020, that meant she could message him forever and her notifications would be constantly showing up for him. He attempted to delete her messages/her ability to message him back in 2021 and showed proof of this, but realized he couldn't. Dream also in doing so accidentally deleted the context to her messages that she was a fan and basically everything prior to 2021.

Since he didn't remember her (what with the prior messages deleted), she was dmnig him from her personal account without fan content on it and was talking about being a streamer, he assumed she was a smaller streamer he knew and was talking to her as such.

They were talking about music so he gave her his personal snapchat to talk and because he wanted to get some feedback on a new song he was working on. He wanted to send the song via snapchat so he could be reasonably sure it'd stay private.

Dream categorically denies any sexting with Amanda or sexual messaging at all, he goes through why she most likely did this (he had been ignoring her messages and made a new snapchat with only close friends). He also downloaded his own data (something Amanda refused to/failed to do), went through the snapchat logs and did see some messages, but never saw either of his supposed compliments to her.

Amanda claimed Dream deleted her dms and that's why she couldn't provide any of the evidence she claimed she had, but Dream showed those same DMs very clearly undeleted. The dms were never deleted and she lied as an excuse.

Amanda lied about going to the police. Dream had his lawyers file a bunch of requests, and track down the police station that she went to based on the photo. They filed every request possible for any information with this police station, and there was no record of Amanda visiting the station or any records relating to Dream whatsoever. So either she lied about filing anything, or she told a story such that the police filed literally no paperwork whatsoever about the situation. Not even a report.

Dream sent the police station a copy of his own drivers license and Amanda's information so they could contact him if anything did come up, and nothing ever did. Nothing was filed, nobody cared.

Dream got swatted several times as a result of online harassment, including his family, and the harassment was overwhelming and awful for him.

He addresses the gumball situation, he showed up to a birthday party for a friend, gumball's VA was there and kept getting aggressive with him. While on facetime with some friends, Cantu ended up hitting Dream to impress them. Dream was obviously put off by this, but at the end of the night people ended up ubering together and Dream ended up in an uber with Cantu. He thought it'd be fine since other people were involved.

Cantu dropped his phone out the window made the uber driver pull over to look for it and got in trouble with the police. The uber driver tried to talk to Cantu about handling the police in the future, and Cantu started calling the uber driver slurs and claiming the uber driver had "down syndrome".

Dream got involved, trying to defend the uber driver, and Cantu threatened to kill him and called him slurs. Later Cantu apologized and Dream wanted to forgive him. Only later, Cantu started spreading lies about him and calling him a pedophile, so Dream realized the apology wasn't sincere and called him out for his behavior.

The third party who had been filming all of this saw what Cantu was doing lying about Dream and trying to claim none of this happened. They reached out to Dream and gave him the actual video as proof of what happened. Cantu tried to threaten them out of sending Dream the video of what happened, but they ignored him and sent them anyways. Dream also had the uber driver in his video backing up what he said.

Finally, the Jamie Allegations

Jamie is a mutual friend of several people that Dream knew, she did not post the allegations, she was never contacted about any of this she made an explicit statement that she was never groomed or a victim in any way.

Dream and Jamie meet prior to Dream being a youtuber on bbh's minecraft server, they were both fans of Skeppy. Which is why Jamie was followed by Dream, Skeppy, Vurb and some other youtubers in their friend group.

Jamie is still active online and put out her own statement, the person in the screenshots never gave permission for any of this to be put out, and they are very clear that the messages were taken out of context and that the claims made are false. The person in the screens is clear Dream is not a groomer, they never accused him of that, and that the twitter account is lying.

The snapchat video shown is very obviously fake, because snapchat just magically opens itself, there's no finger or button use interacting with the screen.

The burner account never actually contacted the police, Dream records him calling to the department they claimed to contact, and the person answering is very clear they have no contact from this person.

The supposed recent document posted is a fake convo of someone using a fake twitter account to talk to "Jamie", Jamie did not talk to them and it's just fake.

All of this was incredibly damaging for Jamie, who had no idea what was going on, and was getting harassed/stalked/having her irls contact.

Dream has also faced waves of harassment over obviously fake allegations, people have just been taking them at face value. He also shows how easy it is to fake these things as I have done.

He's been swatted, harassed, his family has been swatted and harassed, he's been scared for his own safety several times. It's been awful for him, and all based on fake shit. He's not stepping back from minecraft, but he is stepping back from twitter and no longer engaging with people behaving this way.

Also his ping pong record was undefeated.

#sif speaks #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dream #grooming mention #stalking mention #gumball #nicholas cantu #discourse #video summary #abuse mention

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writing-until-i-drop · 4 months ago

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What's In A Name? Chapter Two

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: A failed tornado chase and a long night at the bonfire.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Welp. That had been a shit show. Kate had panicked before Meg and Javi could get the PAR on the ground, nearly driving off without them. Javi had been frustrated out of the gate but quickly realized just how pale their friend had gotten, the trauma clear in her eyes. Neither of them needed to ask what she had been thinking, it was clear as day that Kate had been reliving the EF-5 that had taken their friends.

Meg had been shaken being so close to a tornado again but she had come to terms with the situation a long time ago thanks both to her line of work as a paramedic and to the views on life and death in her adoptive home of New Orleans.

By the time they pulled into the shitty motel they’d be staying in for the night, the parking lot was filled with chasers throwing a little party, drinking, smoking, and dancing. There were even a few bonfires going, which Meg was sure the owners of the motel loved.

“Haven’t we stayed here before?” Javi asked as the trio strolled towards the motel, Meg scrunched her nose, trying to recall if they had stayed at this specific shitty motel before.

“Yeah, Javi,” Kate chuckled, “We’ve stayed in every motel in Oklahoma.” The three of them laughed, they really had stayed in a lot of motels while chasing storms for Kate and Parveen’s research.

“Remember we used to have Addy check in?” Javi reminisced, “Then later, we’d all sneak into the room just so we could all save ten bucks?” Kate and Meg were nodding along to the memories and Kate slipped her hand into Meg’s intertwining their fingers like old times. “We’d have Addy do it because she just looked-”

“So sweet,” The trio said together, laughing.

“She was also a cover hog, Kate and I would always end up cuddled up together to stay warm.” Kate snorted,

“And Parveen’s snoring?”

“Oh my god, not even industrial earplugs could block him out,” Javi added and they trailed off into a comfortable silence. “Hey, um, do you guys want to hang out later?” Javi asked and before Meg could agree, Kate was already shaking her head.

“We’re a little tired, Javi,” Kate spoke for the two of them like she always had. It didn’t bother Meg but she also wished that Kate was more open to having some fun after what they had been through that day. “Maybe another night?” Javi’s face fell but he recovered quickly, smiling at them.

“Yeah, alright, goodnight.”

“Night, Jav,” Meg hugged him tight, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Take a shower, you stink,”

“Yet somehow you still smell fresh as a cow’s ass, Meg,” Javi teased, ruffling her already messy hair. Kate pulled her away from Javi towards their shared room, quietly humming a tune Meg didn’t recognize. “It’s good to have y’all back!”

“I’m not back,” Kate shook her head with a smile. Javi’s eyes landed on Meg who was grinning, shrugging,

“You’ve got a week to convince me, Jav.” That lit his face up like a kid on Christmas.

They were halfway up a set of stairs when Tyler’s voice stopped them.

“City Girl, Louisiana,” The rest of the Wranglers shouted in greeting. Seeing them up close and personal, Meg was reminded not only of her friends but of her family, the chasers who she had grown up around and it made her smile. This was why her dad and the crew liked watching the streams so much, they saw themselves in the Wranglers and now that’s all Meg could see. A fondness grew in her heart for them. “The cells to the west will choke each other out, they said. The one to the east will put on a show.” Boone had a shit-eating grin on his face, obviously drunk as he hung off the side of Tyler’s truck.

“Well, it didn’t throw you off the scent,” Kate bit out with fake amusement.

“Hey, that’s what makes Tyler famous,” Boone gestured to his friend, who flushed at the compliment, turning his attention back to the weather instrument he was fixing.

“On YouTube?” Kate teased sarcastically but Boone was too far gone to get the nuance of the situation.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. We’re on YouTube.” He looked towards the rest of the crew, “We got what? About a million subscribers now?” The Wranglers whooped in excitement.

“Yes, sir,” The one Meg recognized as Lily chimed in, focused on her drone. Ben, the reporter from earlier in the day, came closer with his little notepad.

“Um, Kate and Meg what? In case I mention you in the article I’m writing,” Kate physically pulled away from the situation, trying and failing to look relaxed.

“Um, just Kate’s fine.”

“Starts with an H if that helps, Ben,” Meg gave him a tight smile, unwilling to share her famous surname in a parking lot full of chasers. Ben dutifully noted the information.

“They’re tricky,” Tyler remarked. Boone took over again, leaning dangerously far off of the truck.

“Actually, you made a good call earlier. The other cell looked stronger but the cap never broke.”

“What’s a cap?” Ben looked painfully confused and Meg felt bad for him, being so out of his element. Dexter’s explanation didn’t help much so Meg added in,

“Think of it as a shield in the atmosphere that prevents a tornado from forming.” That’s how Preacher had explained it to her as a kid, she saw the lightbulb go off in Ben’s head as he scribbled it down. “Are you hurt, Ben?” The man touched his temple where there was a bit of dried blood,

“‘Tis but a flesh wound, my dear.” Meg rolled her eyes, dropping her backpack on the ground and hopping the railing, landing deftly on the ground with the Wranglers with her heavy medical bag on her shoulder.

“Let the professional be the judge of that.” Meg knelt, digging out an alcohol wipe and a few bandages while the conversation flowed around them.

“Where did you guys all meet?” Kate asked, “Did you all study meteorology at U of A?” That got a laugh out of the rowdy group, none of whom had formally studied besides Tyler.

“This is going to burn for a second probably, alright, Sweetie?” Ben winced as she swiped away the dried blood. The wound wasn’t big, already scabbed over, so Meg put a regular bandaid on it, one of the bandaids she kept for kids with a smiling kitten on it. “Right as rain. Anyone else need a checkup?”

“You a doctor?” Lily asked, both brows raised.

“Nah, just a paramedic but I can fix you up if something’s bothering you.”

“Well, I hit my bicep on the camper door, I think you should kiss it better,” Dani said with a grin, teasing her. Meg rolled her eyes but happily crossed their set up to the impressively muscular woman. “Right here, Doc.” She flexed, pointing to a perfectly tan spot on her arm.

“I agree with your diagnosis, here,” Meg kissed the woman’s arm, “All better?”

“Here hurts too,” She pointed at her cheek and Meg obliged. “Thanks, Doc. All better.”

“I guarantee you, these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone else on this lot combined.”

“Not likely,” Meg snorted softly. Dani gave her a questioning look, “Not my first rodeo by a long shot, Sweet Thing.”

“Really, do tell, Doc,” Meg shook her head, “I ain’t nearly drunk enough to start telling stories.”

“Dexter, get this fine-looking woman a beer,” Meg looked up at Kate who was shaking her head with an easy smile on her face, used to Meg making friends anywhere they went.

“Where are you chasing tomorrow?” Lily asked Kate, who looked like she was going to answer when Tyler interrupted her. Dexter dutifully handed Meg an unopened can of Budweiser.

“Oh no, no, no, not falling for that again. Kate’s from New York, you can’t trust a word she says.” Meg snorted, covering it up with a cough, thanking Dexter for the beer. Tyler must have never heard a New York accent before because Kate’s twang, as much as she tried to hide it, was so clearly southern.

“Well, you can always trust a guy who puts his face on a t-shirt,” Kate snarked with a grin, getting yet another laugh out of the Wranglers. “See you in the room, Mud Bug.” Kate shouldered Meg’s bag and headed up the stairs.

Dani pulled a folding chair out of the van and motioned for Meg to join them, Boone, who had been focused on Kate, joined them after a few seconds.

“You seem like a cool cat, Meg. Don’t tell me you got one of those fancy degrees too,” Meg shook her head, taking a sip of the cold beer with a sigh.

“Just a bachelor's in public health.”

“So you were sniffing the dirt for fun?” Tyler called down from the top of his truck,

“Said I never studied, doesn’t mean I haven’t been around more twisters than in your wildest dreams,” Meg called back, getting a pat on the shoulder from Dani. “Here, Sweet Thing, my first tattoo,” She pointed to her bicep, where there was a large illustration of a tornado with Dorothy’s sensors flying in it.

“Shit, that’s cool, what’s in it?”

“Y’all know about Dorothy?” Dexter perked up, spinning around,

“I do!”

“What’s Dorothy?” Ben asked, pen poised over his notebook again. Meg would have to text her mom about this, it would make her coo with laughter imagining her daughter enthralling a group of chasers and a reporter with stories about her and her husband’s old project.

“It revolutionized tornado data,” Dexter spoke excitedly.

“Yep, two Muskogee State PhDs and their team came up with the idea to send sensors up a tornado’s funnel, which recorded real-time data about the tornado. Allowing them to create a better early warning system.”

“Bill and Jo Harding,” Dexter added, “They’re legends in the field.” Meg had a sneaking suspicion that Dexter would have a heart attack if he ever met her parents. “Can I see it?” He gestured to her arm and she held it out for him. Dexter snapped a photo of it with his phone with Meg’s permission.

“Seeing a twister suck up those sensors is a godly experience,” Meg teased, taking a long drink of her beer as she watched her words sink in.

“You’ve watched Dorothy be deployed?”

“Many times, like I said, not my first rodeo. Kate and Jav’s seen it too once or twice.” Boone’s face soured,

“What are you doing with that crowd anyway? Storm PAR ain’t great company to keep.” Meg filed that information away for a later date, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“I ain’t here to be with them, I’m here for Kate, who’s here to help out an old friend.” Boone seemed satisfied with that answer,

“Shit, you got a lot of tattoos.”

“This ain’t even all of them, Boonie Baby,” She realized her mistake as soon as the nickname left her mouth. Lily was the first to round on her,

“You watch our streams?”

“I’ve seen a few minutes here and there, darlin’, enough to know who y’all are.” Tyler climbed down off of the truck, giving her an appraising look that had Meg turning pink.

“I was right, Louisiana, you are a tricky one.” Meg rolled her eyes, “What’s so funny?”

“Not from Louisiana, Arkansas,” Boone chuckled at his friend’s expense, patting him on the shoulder. “Take another guess.”

“Texas?”

“Say that again and I’ll slash your tires, Sweetie Pie,” Meg was a proud Sooners fan, her hatred for the Texas Longhorns running deep. Tyler barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

“An Oklahoma girl then, I should’ve known.” Ben looked confused again, so Meg bailed him out, explaining the college football rivalry. “So, if this isn’t your first rodeo, what was?”

“You always goin’ around askin’ girls what their first tornadoes were?” Meg teased,

“Only the pretty ones.” Meg’s blush deepened, “So, what was it, Oklahoma?” Meg finished her beer,

“Got anything stronger?” Boone happily fetched her another can, this time it was purple with a high APV rating on the bottom. He perched himself on the edge of the table Lily was working on, Tyler coming to stand at his side.

“My parents loved to chase a storm, any storm, and when I was five we were out to dinner when dad realized something big was about to break. So, they threw me in the car, and off we went. It came down right in front of us, maybe a hundred yards down the road. We were stupid close to an F-3,”

“EF-3, you mean?” Tyler tried to correct her, eyes widening when she shook her head.

“This was 2001, Sweetie Pie, now hush, I’m telling a story.”

“Yeah, Ty, hush,” Dani huffed. Meg took great pleasure in Tyler’s blush and the way he looked away from the group to hide it.

“It was beautiful, watching it uproot the trees along the road, eating everything in its path. I tried to get my mom to open up the sunroof so I could climb out and see it better.”

“You weren’t scared?” Ben asked, writing notes. Meg had never been scared of a tornado in her life, something her parents accused each other of teaching her. Not even after the incident, she respected them and the damage they could do of course.

Mother Nature was not someone she wanted to mess with but she had always just found the storms to be chaotic, wild, and absolutely thrilling. Being scared of dying was another question, one she hadn’t been asked and wasn’t going to answer. Her wrist started to ache and Meg switched the hand holding her drink.

“You know when you see a lion at the zoo? It’s kind of like that, you know it’s a killing machine and could and would rip you to shreds without breaking a sweat but you also can’t help but admire how majestic and beautiful it is.”

“God, look at his face,” Lily scoffed, looking at Tyler. Meg glanced his way and found him staring back at her with a look she couldn’t read but one of his friends seemed to understand.

“But you’re a paramedic, not a chaser?” Ben prompted, drawing her attention away from the cowboy.

“That’s right, storms are the love of my life but helping people, that’s what I’m good at. But enough about me, who else has some stories? Laissez les bons temps rouler!”

“Hell yeah!” Boone tapped his can to hers, “I like you!”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice

Want to join the taglist? Just ask!

#what's in a name fic #tyler owens x oc #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024 #twister 1996 #twisters #kate carter #javi rivera

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

Note

I have a tech-related question... Do you have recommendations for types or bands of external hard drives? I'd like to move my photos off of the cloud. I plan on printing some, but I'd like a long-lasting digital drive, too. Is either SSD or hard disk more stable / safe in the long term? Do they go bad? Should I plan on buying a new one every few years? Thanks!

I'd say for physical storage that you don't need constantly and doesn't need to be fast, you'd be fine with an HDD - Western Digital My Passport backup drives cost between about $50-$150 depending on the size, with 5TB being the largest. Those are fairly reliable (I'd recommend staying away from WD for SSDs for a while; they have had a BAD problem with SSDs in certain lines for quite a while).

HDDs do go bad eventually, but you can recover data from an HDD while if an SSD loses data it's just gone. I'd say plan to replace every 5-7 years just to be on the safe side, but you'll likely find that the drives actually last longer than that.

You can also look into getting archival DVDs and storing data on those, but depending on how much data you have that might not be practical or affordable. Archival optical media lasts quite a long time - 10-20 years is the general estimate - but you need a working optical drive (you can buy an external) and a plan for storage and access.

I personally use an external hard drive that I replace every five years and I hang on to the old drives I'm replacing just in case; I haven't actually had any of those old drives fail on me yet and I'm on my third one. But 5 years is the reliable lifespan of most platter drives, so that's the recommended replacement date.

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eljeebee · 3 months ago

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Summer Prelude: Shipwrecked in Sulani

It was just supposed to be a reconnaissance. Her shuttle was upgraded to “hide” her from the radars when surveying this planet. They know civilization might not even exist there yet based on old reports, but you’ll never know…

The mothership was hidden far from this planet, near the edge of the system, and she was tasked to physically survey the planet and collect any data from it.

P’tonia was sure her shuttle was in good shape – until it wasn’t. Her shuttle’s systems failed, prompting her to land. It burned when it broke through the atmosphere, which normally happens, unless your systems are broken and there are no shields to protect you from the burn. It was all too fast. She remembered scrambling to get herself ejected from the shuttle, remembered it going straight to the ocean. She remembered fighting the debris away from her and swimming ashore.

And then when she reached the sandy beach, she dropped to the ground, exhausted. Sleep took her.

And now…

P’tonia decided to look around, she knows she can’t immediately recover her shuttle, but there might be materials…

So, even if afraid, she walked.

Until…

A…person…stood from her. Curly hair, blue eyes, and their eyes look…kind. Their mouth moved, speaking something, but P’tonia couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Alarm bells rang through her head and P’tonia quickly backed up, holding her fighting stance. Stars, she thought, I didn’t know this planet supports…people. The last report from this planet was from Ach’ska, and it was a long time ago…

“Who are you? Where am I?” P’tonia asked warily.

She blinked. “It seems like we don’t understand each other…”

The person let out a hm. And then suddenly, they let out a harmonious voice. Singing? What for? Is this a threat? P’tonia thought, alarmed.

As the person sang, there were rays of light coming out from their mouth and started circling both. P’tonia froze, “What are you doing? What do you think – ”

The person continued to sing, and as the lights further twirled around them, P’tonia starts to understand the song. At the same time, it calmed her. And when the song ended…

“Are you okay?” the person asked.

P’tonia gasped. Whatever this person did, it made her understand what they were saying!

“I understand you!” P’tonia cried, and then she doubled down, confused when she found herself speaking another language unfamiliar to her, but familiar to her tongue.

“I’m glad to hear it,” the person gently smiled. “I hope that didn’t scare you. What I did was a merfolk spell. It’s not harmful, don’t worry; just something to help you talk to me.”

“Mer…merfowk?” P’tonia echoed, feeling the word through her mouth. Is this what the race are called in this planet?

The person nodded. “We saw a big ball of fire diving straight to the ocean…it must be you. The Sulanians were scared, so I came her to investigate. As a merfolk, I consider myself as the protector of the islands and its waters. I’m not here to fight, though. I only wanted to talk. But if you try and hurt them…”

“Scared? No, no!” P’tonia gasped, “I’m not here to hurt anyone, I promise! I’m lost!”

“I could see that,” they said. “The spirits told me you’re not bound from this world.”

“Spirits?” P’tonia tilted her head, confused. “Bound?”

The person only smiled. “It’ll be a lot to take in, why don’t we go sit down and talk? Come, we can chat inside that shipwreck. The children steered clear from this place when you crashed here.”

They motioned for her to follow. As they walked, the person suddenly paused. “Where are my manners? I’m Perlas of St. Taz! You are standing on one of the islands of Sulani, Mua Pel’am!”

“Mua Pel’am, Sulani…what a beautiful name! You have a beautiful name as well; does it mean anything?” P’tonia cooed. Her worries and fears washed away as she relaxed. If the people in this planet is as kind as they, then maybe she doesn’t need to be defensive? Good, because she hates fighting.

“It means Pearl,” Perlas smiled.

“How wonderful,” P’tonia nodded. “Oh! I am P’tonia Vix, Princess of Galatea. I’m serving…well, was serving in the Ach’ska Memoir, until my shuttle went…garbage.”

“A princess! Well then, Princess Tonya, follow me!”

“Oh, please, just P’tonia,” she bashfully says, “Father taught me that royalty means nothing when serving in the navy, and especially when you find yourself lost in a foreign world. And I’m not really used to curtsies or when people kneel for me, and regard me so highly. I usually keep myself in the workshops and work on my projects…”

Perlas let out a laugh. “Come on then, Tonya. Tell me everything and I will answer whatever question you ask.”

#perlas of st. taz #p'tonia vix #Beneath #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 #ts4 story #simblr #oh you thought p'tonia was a one time thing???#no #my brain said: we're expanding this story of yers

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miserymet · 7 months ago

Text

Bit hesitant about posting this because it’s really old, but I feel it’s worth the minor embarrassment to:

1. Have actually writing on my blog because yes I do that sometimes

and,

2. Showcase how the Reploid AU is essentially about two different versions of Bass, largely dictated by circumstance

So if you are interested in how Bass recovers his memory in my Reploid Bass AU, I hope you enjoy this drabble I wrote over a year ago.

It’s a bit like death, he thinks.

Forte’s mind has always been a mess, it’s something he’s come to terms with. An outdated master system combined with far too advanced processors? It was a recipe for disaster. So when he’s awoken from his respite and suddenly faced with his own datascape, he’s less surprised than he should be. He knows this place. It’s where he goes when everyone else is dreaming. The center of his mind, where his every thought, his every feeling, is easily accessible.

But why is he here, and not awake? The procedure required that he was completely shut off. His every system in stasis. If it’s over, why isn’t he in the real world? Why isn’t he operating already? Forte looks around the empty space. Code fills his senses, white noise buzzing around him. An unrelenting dread fills his metal bones. Either the procedure failed, or…

Or he’s dead.

The old Forte.

There’s nothing to recover, is there? He’s going to be like this forever, stuck in this horrible limbo of past and present. Trapped in his ignorance, trapped in his mind-!

“No.”

Forte stops. His fears flees him, leaving him empty. That voice is…

“Mine. It’s mine.”

A low whistle punctuates his words, but he doesn’t make a sound.

“Sure is, Forte.” A chuckle. “Glad you like the name. I didn’t.”

Forte turns to find a lone figure at the edge of his consciousness. A figure he recognizes, though they’ve never looked so pristine. His old body looks at him, sans all the damage it once bore so nobly. Now it is a shiny black, with only a few thin scratches across its surface. The face it wears is rounder, the eyes softer. It’s him. His former self.

He should feel glad, right? This is what he wanted?

It still feels like death, somehow.

“What is your name?”

“Our name was Bass.” A distinct correction. “And it was well known.”

“It worked, then? We remember?”

“I remember. You don’t. That’s because you’re not ready to accept me.”

“I am! I’ve wanted this for-!”

“You don’t know what THIS is!” Bass glares at him. “Even if you did, I’m not ready to accept you either. So give me the chance to explain before you make up your mind.”

Forte nods, though he doubts his former self needed the permission.

“I’ll rip the bandaid off quickly. We can’t both exist, Forte. Not at once.” He crosses his arms. “You want your old memories? You have to accept all of them. Not just the data, the routines too. It’ll be a complete recovery. A rewrite, to put it all back to the way it was.”

“Ego death.”

“For you, if you choose it.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then I die, and you forget. Permanently this time.”

“…my brother is dead. I’m a second rate hunter with a third rate system. I do not belong here anymore.”

“And I do? I haven’t had the privilege of rooting through your memories, but the log says we’re a hundred years in the future. I doubt we’d recognize the place.” Bass scoffs. “I don’t know anything about your world. I’m going to be even more displaced than you are.”

“Will you keep my data? Even if you cannot understand it?”

“…the memory. I’ll remember what and why, but my routines might not understand the decisions you made. You’ll wake up a stranger.”

“Why are we so different? Aren’t we the same robot?”

“We lost some things in the update. Certain protocol was rendered useless. Like you stopped recognizing your commands.” Bass pauses, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. “No, like you stopped recognizing who the commands referred to. They gave names, names you don’t recognize. His name is lost to you. So…”

“His?”

“Our purpose. The very reason we exist. You forgot him like it was nothing.”

“Z-,” he stops. He knows that name, so his purpose is something other than that. “Who?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll die easier if you let go of that.” Bass looks away. “Im scared, you know. Of the future. I remember how we died. The moments before. We expected to walk away that day. We expected to live. To move on. Go home. He took that from us.”

“He?”

“The man that lingers in your mind. I know him. I hate him. He loves you.”

“Loves me?”

“What are you, an echo?” Bass scoffs with more vigor this time. “We were proud, once. We stood tall and fought tooth and nail against all that challenged us. We were the strongest. You aren’t. You’re a coward. You’re weak.”

“I’m afraid too.” Forte closes his eyes. “I don’t want to disappear.”

“Then go. Go back.” Bass whispers. “I would’ve, if I knew. I was just about to…I was going to be something different. I was going to make a choice. A GOOD one, this time. I was going to…”

Forte blinks at his old self. “What? What were you going to do?”

“Have a family. A real one this time, one that would’ve cared about me. One that would give me a chance. But…”

“We died.”

“Yeah. Didn’t realize how bad I wanted it until it slipped from my hands. Until I was laying there, ripped to shreds, praying for someone to save me.”

“No one did, did they?”

“I wonder if they looked for me. I wonder if they thought I had run off. Like a coward.”

“There’s someone waiting for us. For you, out there. Go to him.” Forte takes a step forward. “He needs a friend and…I cannot do that for him. Not anymore.”

“Coward.”

“Yes.” He takes a deep, synthetic breath. “I’m ready, I think.”

“I’m not. But I’ll do it. I’m curious, anyway.”

#mega man #megaman #megaman au #megaman classic #mega man x #megaman x #rockman #bass megaman #megaman bass #bass #reploid bass au #My main gripe about this is that Bass feels a bit too ooc for my tastes #But too be fair I wrote this in my notes app with no intention of ever posting it #I was going for a feeling

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viksalos · 5 months ago

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The Mycelial Networking Project - A New Kind of Employment Structure for Neurodivergent Talent

Hey y'all--some of you might remember I used to be fairly active on here during my final few years of grad school, and then I nearly burned out of my PhD, found out I was autistic, and subsequently drastically reduced the time I spent on tumblr. Well, good news: I'm ok, I recovered from burnout, graduated, and discovered something surprising both in my PhD research and during my burnout recovery--cooperating with other people who are on the same wavelength as you is both more efficient for knowledge transfer in a variety of expert fields, and also socially healthier than struggling alone! Whoda thunk!

With that in mind, myself and Mykola Bilokonsky (creator of r/AutismTranslated, software developer, and Autistic coach) have been working for the past few months on the Mycelial Institute (at mycelial.institute in your address bar--I haven't linked it because tumblr search suppresses outside links, oops)

The Mycelial Institute is attempting to create a new kind of workplace that’s optimized for neurodivergent people. If you follow me on here or found this post from the tags, chances are you already know there are so many autistic, ADHD and other neurodivergent folks who have so much to give but who struggle to do so in a traditional employment context. We can be some of the most passionate experts you know and we'll still be languishing in unemployment because we're not able to do things the way everyone else does - and as a result everyone is worse off.

What if there was a different kind of employment available? One that:

Was completely worker owned, without any kind of profit-taking or power hierarchy orthogonal to the specific goals of the organization?

Understood that there are many different ways to contribute, and that some people can be profoundly valuable in some of those ways while struggling with others - and so decoupled them!

Accepted the fact that disability isn’t a fringe experience to marginalize but a core component of most peoples’ lives - especially during the age of Covid - and so prioritized accommodation?

Embraced non-punitive accountability - we have goals, we have challenges. Sometimes we can’t meet a goal because of a challenge. Instead of that being a source of shame, how can we make that an accepted learning experience and build in additional supports?

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, please visit mycelial.institute. We are currently very early in this process, and are actively seeking collaborators. Currently we’re trying to build a diverse leadership team, meaning we want to find folks across as many marginalized identities as we can to help us make foundational decisions. This includes disability - we want non-speakers and intellectually disabled leadership as well. (You don’t need to be interested in a leadership role to fill out our submission form, we’re gathering a pool of folks in general.)

CATEGORIES

They have a social structure superficially similar to eusocial insects, with each lower form being subservient to those higher. They advance in stages over their lifetimes, with the speed they grow seemingly based on how many and the quality of hosts they’ve consumed. Feral/Massed - As Dark Matter multiplies, smaller parts will gather into undifferentiated masses. The most numerous form, presenting as little more than inky black ‘blobs’ with varied numbers of eyes. They have little individuality at this phase and tend to join and split at random to create larger masses, but can't hold complex forms. Without a more advanced individual to control them, these will default to a simple 'spread and infect' mode of attack. Drones - Massed Dark Matter eventually begins splitting off into smaller and more stable colonies with a single eye. Notable are the orange orbs they form around the center mass, although the purpose is unknown. They become capable of hovering flight in this stage. Higher level Dark Matter can also spawn small versions of these from their own bodies by sacrificing a small amount of their own mass. Soldiers - Dark Matter drones that have infected many hosts of more intelligent species can begin to gain something akin to sapience, perhaps through a form of horizontal gene-transfer. They can keep more complex forms, often wielding weapons on their own. They're also better at hiding their presence in a host. Regents - The oldest and most powerful, their bodies turn pure white. Highly intelligent and extremely rare, they are believed to control all other Dark Matter.

EXTERMINATION PROTOCOLS- Dark Matter is resistant to cutting and bludgeoning weapons, and requires high energy to be damaged. Fire is effective, as is electricity. Focused light-based weaponry is the most effective counter when they're outside of a host. Inside a host they're more difficult to deal with- complete obliteration of both is recommended. Advances in destabilizing technology block the ability of individual particles from cooperating and cause a temporary loss of form. This hasn’t been tested on more advanced types. Current protocol when dealing with heavily infected planets is complet- [...the rest is too corrupted to access…]

IMMUNITY PROJE%55C77T000--- $F2r33r Ce&b2w~r9p/g 6G(eb*w#n<a $Z6+ne3r+

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

PROJECT LOGS - COLD FLAME - FALLEN STAR - WHITE OBLIVION - TROJAN MARE - RISING TIDE

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

PROJECT COLD FLAME [COMPLETE] PCF-01 [DECEASED] PCF-02 [DECEASED] PCF-03-A [MIA] PCF-03-B [KIA]

Selecting PCF-03-A and B show images of two tiny, almost cute blue lizard-like creatures, alongside what are presumably their larger adult forms, covered in icy spikes, alongside information describing developing and enhancing their ice powers and removing previous weaknesses. 03-B is described as being killed in battle with Galactic Soldiers, while 03-A's body was simply never found.

------------- PROJECT FALLEN STAR [CANCELED] PFS-01-A [DECEASED] PFS-02-B [DECEASED] PFS-03 [DECEASED] PFS-04 [REPURPOSED] PFS-05 [REPURPOSED]

DATA INACCESSIBLE

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

PROJECT WHITE OBLIVION [COMPLETE] PWO-01 [STASIS] PWO-2 [MIA]

PWO-01 describes the lab working with a creature said to modify memories, and how this can be weaponized. The creature is interchangeably called 'Erasem' or 'Oblivio'- apparently different HNM scientists disagreed on a name. PWO-02 just seems to be an improved version of the last, actually getting used a few times on the enemy to sew chaos among the GSA by rendering important individuals forgotten by their comrades. However after one much later mission it is said to go missing entirely, and the project is put to an end due to difficulty in managing the creature.

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

PROJECT TROJAN MARE [DEFUNCT] FORMERLY [REDACTED] PTM-01 [DECEASED] PTM-02 [DECEASED] PTM-03 [DECEASED] PTM-04 [DECEASED] PTM-05 [DECEASED] PTM-06 [DECEASED] PTM-07 [DECEASED] PTM-08 [DECEASED] PTM-09 [DECEASED] PTM-10 [DECEASED] PTM-11 [DECEASED] PTM-12 [DECEASED] PTM-13 [DECEASED] PTM-14 [DECEASED] PTM-15 [DECEASED] PTM-16 [DECEASED] PTM-17-A [DECEASED] PTM-17-B [DECEASED] PTM-18 [DECEASED] PTM-19 [DECEASED] PTM-20 [TERMINATED] PTM-21 [DECEASED] PTM-22 [DECEASED] PTM-23-A [DECEASED] PTM-23-B [TERMINATED] PTM-24-A [REPURPOSED] PTM-24-B [REPURPOSED]

DATA INACCESSIBLE

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

PROJECT RISING TIDE [DEFUNCT] PRT-01-X [DECEASED] PRT-02-Y [DECEASED] PRT-02-X [TERMINATED] PRT-03-Y [TERMINATED] PRT-03-X [TERMINATED]

Describes a project to turn a planet's native sea life into demon beasts.

@kirbyoctournament

(This is from a roleplay session over at the Discord! I figure I'd share it for more people to see if you're curious about figuring stuff out about Techie)

#kirby oc tournament #lore drop #i wish i coulda added more detail but I don't have the energy #the important bits are all there

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coimbrabertone · 8 months ago

Text

Injuries, Job Security, and How MotoGP and Indycar Differ...Or Don't.

In the last two years, two racers I support have been seriously injured. One was Enea Bastianini, rider of the #23 Ducati in MotoGP, and the other was David Malukas, who never actually got to drive the #6 NTT Data Arrow McLaren-Chevrolet Indycar.

So, just to go over what happened to them: Enea Bastianini was injured in the opening sprint race of the 2023 MotoGP season, the Portuguese GP at Portimao. Luca Marini went up his inside into turn five (Torre VIP), lost it, and his bike slid into Enea's bike. Enea broke his collarbone in this crash, wound up missing the opening five races, came back, injured himself again at Catalunya, and missed another three races.

Enea would return for the Indonesian Grand Prix and would then win the Malaysian Grand Prix towards the end of the season. That win, combined with Jorge Martin on the Pramac Ducati failing to beat Francesco Bagnaia for the championship, secured Enea's seat for 2024.

So, while Enea was enjoying a secure offseason, David Malukas was preparing for his switch from Dale Coyne Racing to a frontrunning team in the form of Arrow McLaren...except, he never actually made his debut for the team.

David Malukas was mountain biking in California, riding an easy trail, when, trying to slow himself, pulled the front brake too hard, went up and over the handlebars, and landed on his hands. He would break his left wrist and it was announced he would miss St. Pete and probably Thermal.

St. Pete and probably Thermal soon became St. Pete and definitely Thermal, missing those two races. Callum Ilott would fill in.

Malukas missed Long Beach next, with Theo Pourchaire in the car now.

Then Theo Pourchaire raced Long Beach as well.

Around this time, various rumors started flying about Malukas getting replaced. This only grew as Nathan Brown reported that Malukas had traveled to Panama in order to receive stem cell shots to speed up his recovery, and only then did he get the pins in his wrist removed.

Then, after Barber - the fourth race of the season, Malukas blacked out his twitter page. I was sat in a discord debating what exactly this meant with some other Indycar fans, with news picking up that he had been dropped. With the story pretty much out there, Arrow McLaren made the announcement early in the morning, David Malukas had been released after failing to meet his contractual obligations.

By now, it's been announced that Ilott will do the Indy 500, and then Theo Pourchaire will fill out the rest of the season in the #6. The Malukas at McLaren story ended before it could even begin.

Meanwhile, in MotoGPland, Enea Bastianini continued with the factory Ducati team. However, with Jorge Martin now building up an annoyingly large championship lead and Marc Marquez on the Ducati stealing all the attention, the whole world seems to think it's between the two of them to get the Ducati factory seat for 2025.

For the record, Enea is tied on points with Marquez, just two behind his teammate, and spent this weekend's race - the French Grand Prix at the Le Mans Bugatti Circuit - starting tenth, getting a penalty, recovering to fourth, setting fastest lap, and finishing just 2.2 seconds off the lead.

Enea is an immense talent, he's the rider I chose to support when I decided to become a MotoGP fan ahead of the 2023 season, and it's so rotten to see his career falling apart because of factors outside of his control.

As for Malukas, he's a young, popular kid and has proven so talented on the ovals in a Dale Coyne Racing car. I was so eager to see what he could do with an Arrow McLaren, particularly at tracks like Iowa, Gateway, and Nashville which seemed like they'd suit him. Now, we're not going to get the chance, and it's unclear where he might land if he were to try and return to Indycar.

So, in theory, MotoGP gives more time to injured racers, but no matter what series you're in, motorsports can be a cutthroat business. Bastianini and Malukas certainly aren't the first racers to lose top rides after an injury, and they certainly won't be the last. It's not exactly an industry known for job security.

If I could manifest a happy resolution to both, I'd have Enea Bastianini go to factory Aprilia to join Maverick VInales, while David Malukas could join Meyer Shank Racing (perhaps with Tom Blomqvist returning to IMSA with the same team) to reinforce their oval program the same way Felix Rosenqvist has revitalized that team on the road and street circuits.

For now though, we wait to see what happens to them.

To end on a happier note, Brad Keselowski won the Darlington Goodyear 400 NASCAR race last night running a throwback scheme in honor of the TOM's Castrol Supra. That is an awesome motorsports word randomizer and the fact that it's real is why NASCAR is really cool in 2024.

One day I'll write a blogpost where talking about current NASCAR is actually the point instead of just spending the final paragraph gushing about last weekend's cool race.

#motorsports #racing #indycar #motogp #indy 500 #david malukas #enea bastianini #nascar

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hand-written-dreams · 3 months ago

Text

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 06

Error 404 - File Not Found

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Daddy Issues" by The Neighbourhood ft. Syd)

Khushi sits in front of her laptop screen, staring at the empty file that once held her escape. It feels as if the code of her life has been rewritten, lines of her plan deleted without warning.

She managed to recover some of the files from her formatted computer but the most important folder is, of course.

Empty.

Her encrypted freedom was hijacked by an unseen hacker, who tore down her firewall from the inside and rewrote her life's code with a single keystroke.

She feels the walls closing in, like the network is shrinking, suffocating. Every key she types echoes like the ticking of a countdown. Each attempt to trace the hacker, to recover even a shred of her stolen evidence, hits a dead-end. The once familiar language of numbers and commands, her shield, now betrays her, leaving her exposed in the dark web.

The trap is perfect.

She feels herself sinking into it.

The safety protocols failing one by one.

There's no backdoor, no way to break the code that now binds her, leaving her frozen in a system she thought she could outsmart.

The last few days were tough, frustration gnawing at her ever since that unexpected meeting with Mr. Raizada.

Damn it, Damn him.

She will be lying, if she says she isn't sacred of 'Mr. I-despise-you'.

Actually

He terrifies her.

The man is like an encrypted code filled with blank spaces, written in hidden algorithms that she had no idea how to decipher. So much information, so many answers encrypted within his layers. And she had no idea where to find the correct data sequence to decrypt his mysteries.

Sighing, she shakes her head, as if to remove Mr. Raizada out of her head. She leans back into her pillow, closing her eyes to escape the strain of too much screen time, replaying the events that happened last few days.

After ditching her bodyguards, again, she slipped into the city yesterday to meet one of her college professors, someone brilliant enough to maybe help her trace the hacker. After days of gruelling effort on her own, pushing her limits until her eyes stung and her hands ached, he was her last hope.

She explained the situation as vaguely as possible, hoping he'd see something she missed, some miracle solution that would break her free. But there was none. Just more dead ends.

Finally, after exhausting all options, Khushi decides to wait. Patience will have to be her strategy for now. She plans to rely on the network of resources she has meticulously planted throughout the house...hidden cameras, discreet microphones, and surveillance equipment. Each one is her carefully placed set of eyes and ears, her silent sentinels. All the while, she prays no one discovers them.

If she can't act yet, she can at least watch and listen, biding her time until the perfect moment to strike.

And meanwhile, she hopes for something significant to unfold, something she can use to her advantage, something she can leverage to turn the situation in her favour.

She hacks into the main circuits of the house's CCTV system, gaining full control. Now, every camera, every angle is at her command. She watches the feeds stream through her laptop, monitoring every movement in the house without anyone suspecting her. It's her own invisible web.

Through the CCTV feeds, Khushi scans the sprawling mansion her father built in Delhi after their move from Kolkata, a blend of traditional Indian designs and modern conveniences.

The mansion may look like a symbol of status and power from the outside, but through her feeds, she sees it for what it is.

'A gilded cage'

It is filled with secrets and shadows, a place designed to control both the outside world and the people trapped inside it.

Her father recently had the house repainted. No matter how many fresh coats are added, the crimson will always remain, splattered beneath the pristine white wall.

Unseen but never forgotten.

Nothing in the mansion screams opulence. The carefully curated simplicity is just another layer of control. The wealth is there, woven into the fabric of every room, hidden beneath a veil of restraint, much like her father's carefully maintained image.

Her father cannot openly flaunt his wealth, as any display can draw the scrutiny of the Income Tax Department or the Anti-Corruption Bureau. Though these departments are in his pocket, it's always better to be safe than sorry.

She observes the Entrance hall, with its polished marble floors gleaming under the soft lighting. Beyond the hall, a staircase rises, curving upwards like something out of an old-world palace, its handrails intricately carved from dark mahogany, leading to the upper levels of the house.

The mansion is filled with abstract artwork, some genuine, some likely smuggled. Large French windows overlook manicured lawns, but she knows every one of those windows is equipped with bulletproof glass.

Her father's study is discreetly tucked away behind a solid wooden door on the first floor. It's the heart of his operations.

It was always off-limits to her, a place of secrecy and constant mystery. Despite all her expertise, she can't infiltrate the walls with any of her surveillance tools.

No camera can penetrate those walls.

There's no CCTV as well.

It frustrates her endlessly, knowing that within those walls are the answers she sought. But she isn't entirely powerless. She has managed to plant a small microphone inside a flower vase during one of her rare visits, hoping it would give her some access to the world her father has kept hidden. Now, as she pulls up the feed, she wonders if it's still active.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard as the feed comes to life. It's still active!! Relief washes over her as she adjusts the volume. The faint crackle of static confirms the microphone is picking up sound. She connects her headphones swiftly.

Voices float in the background.

Pulse quickens.

Breathing ceases.

And she listens.

".....what should we do next, sir?" The gruff voice of Mr. Sharma filters through. He is the lifelong bodyguard/right-hand man of her father.

"I said it was a bad idea," her father snaps, his frustration palpable even through the static. "But he was so stubborn... and oh so impatient... he could wait a few days...I had it all planned."

"Mr.Jha picked someone so unprofessional for such a sensitive job," Mr.Sharma commented.

A pause....

A static....

"That lousy motherfucker Rocky botched the entire thing. Soon they will find out, we were behind it." Her father's voice drops lower, almost a growl.

"Why did Mr. Jha act without consulting us? We could have handled it on his behalf, " frustration creeps into Mr. Sharma's voice as well.

"He thought he was avenging his father," her father replies.

"If you don't mind, can I ask something, Sir?" Mr.Sharma asks. Her father might have given him the green signal because a minute later, he continues, "He said he was sure about who killed his father. But how could that be? The person he's talking about was just a boy back then...what, 14 or 15?"

A long, tense silence follows before her father responds, his voice now cold and measured. "We never truly know the monsters people carry inside them."

Mr. Sharma says cautiously, "But how does killing the Wolves' daughter fit into that revenge?"

Another pause. Her breath catches as her father's voice cuts through, sharp and suspicious. "Someone's been feeding him information. He believed he'd killed The Vulture's sister."

Her mouth hangs open, as her heartbeat picks up. Holy fucking shit!!

"But why would his sister be with The Wolves?"

"We had no idea where the girl went after her mother's death, but Mr. Rathore has a nasty habit of using daughters as bargaining chips, doesn't he?" her father's voice drops down.

There was a long pause as if her father was in deep thought. "It's entirely possible he handed the girl over to the wolves to hide her identity or.... worse.. exchanged her with a daughter of the wolves to gain leverage over someone in their family."

"Do you think she really was his sister?"

Khushi leans in closer, her heart racing as she strains to catch her father's reply.

"Let's hope she wasn't." her father responds, his voice steady yet a dark, bitter shadow overpowers his voice. "If she was, the hell will break loose."

"If we're lucky," he continues after a pause, "...no one will ever find out we're behind it. But the way it was handled... so sloppily...it's only a matter of time before the wolves figure it out. It's a direct slap to their face. And if she was indeed his sister, soon both the Eagles and the Wolves will be at our throats.. This is war. They'll demand retribution....You understand what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah," Mr.Sharma responds grimly. "We need to tighten our security. And with Mr. Jha's political campaign underway, we'll have to stay on high alert."

"I'm concerned about the Wolves' new security expert, Adam Marcus. He's a former American Navy SEAL, and people have already started calling him 'the hound dog.' They say he has a special talent for digging up dirt. Keep an eye on him."

"Sir?" Mr. Sharma asks after a brief pause, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. "Should we alert your daughter?"

"There's no need," her father replies, his tone dismissive yet sharp. "It's not her safety I'm worried about, it's ours. And our reputation is what's at risk right now."

Yes, of course. What's new?

Her father's indifference no longer surprises or bothers her.

Then his father's faint voice crackles in the faint static as if he were talking to himself, "The Eagles won't hurt her..''

"Sorry, Sir, I didn’t quite catch that."

"It's nothing. Do as I say.....Tell..."

A sharp knock on her door jolts Khushi from her thoughts, sending her heart racing. Panic floods her as she hastily shoves her laptop beneath a pillow. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to smooth away her startled expression before standing up.

Mr. Jha's smiling face peeks through the ajar door,

"Khushi," he beams, his voice light, "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"..umm..Hello, Mr.Jha." Khushi just gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"Khushi, Khushi, Khushi," he says with an almost playful tone as he steps into her room, a package in his hand. He sinks into the chair at her desk. "You look more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

Light filters weakly through the curtains, casting elongated shadows across the floor that seem to shift with the tension. Her room, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of her life started to feel different all of a sudden, taut, like a wire ready to snap. It feels exposed.

So does she.

She's always kept her space simple-a bed neatly tucked in one corner, a sleek desk where she often loses herself in study and a leather couch facing the TV. If she listens closely, it feels like she can hear the silent screams of her furniture.

Her bookshelf in the corner, filled with books she escapes into, stands as a silent witness, but nothing in this space feels safe now. It's as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. Waiting

Just like her.

Khushi stares at Mr. Jha with a blank expression, realizing he's waiting for a response, evident from the expectant look on his face.

"Mr. Jha, you just saw me two days ago," she says dryly.

He smirks, eyes glinting. "You're a beauty I could never tire of praising..... and soon, my goddess, you'll be my wife. Drop this 'Mr. Jha' nonsense. I have a name. Call me Shyam."

Standing, he strides over to her, his fingers wrapping around her hand before she can pull it away. He places the package in her palm. "This is for you."

She resists the strong urge to yank her hand free and step back. But that would be disrespectful and her father would have her head for it. He made it perfectly clear to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Jha."

He sighs, frustration leaking into his eyes. "Come on, open it."

Reluctantly, she pulls apart the wrapping. Inside is a deep red saree with intricate borders, adorned with shimmering stones. She glances at him, confusion flickering across her face.

"We're going on a date tonight," he declares with smug satisfaction.

"Oh..." she falters, unsure of how to respond.

"We'll be joined by some of my party's politicians and their wives. They've been eager to meet you for a while."

She blinks, still processing. The last thing she feels like doing is entertaining those sleazy politicians.

"Wear the saree. You just look divine in red. " Mr.Jha's tone drops down an octave, "Red suits you, but having you all to myself suits you more." His hand lingers on her forearm, sliding up toward her shoulder, then her face. Her stomach tightens, and she bites her lip, wishing he would stop. Her throat tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing it. Every breath she took felt shallow, incomplete, like she was drowning in the very air around her. The urge to pull away, to run, to be anywhere but here, was overwhelming, yet she remained frozen, trapped in the politeness expected of her.

A sharp knock breaks the tension. Mr. Jha steps back, clearly irritated. It's Buaji.

"Mr. Jha, Mr. Gupta is waiting for you in his study."

Khushi exhales deeply, releasing a breath she doesn't realize she is holding as she grips the package with trembling hands. Mr.Jha flashes her a smile that promises this isn't over, before leaving the room with unsettling ease.

The moment the door clicks shut behind him, Khushi feels her entire body sag with relief, her shoulders falling as if unburdened by an invisible force.

The stillness that follows his departure is welcomed.

She savores the quiet.

It is all she has at this moment.

Author's note:

Hello-hi bye-bye, sweet readers ☺️

Thank you for reading! It's always exciting to share this story with you. Drop a comment if you enjoyed it, and don't forget to hit the star! Until the next chapter!

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @shiyaravi @titaliya @arshiradio

#arnav singh raizada #ipkknd #khushi kumari gupta #arnav and khushi #arshi #13 years of ipkknd #arshi fanfic #crimson_shade #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta

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healingheartdogs · 1 month ago

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Stuff you see on certain kinds of dog training business websites that might appeal to uninformed clients who don't know any better and want their "money's worth" - especially at $4800-$6500 for only a three week board and train, ouch - but would send any good science aware trainer, dog sports person, or educated dog owner who knows their shit running away clutching their dogs and their wallets close to their hearts.

Do not trust any company or trainer that promises going from untrained to a dog that is fully off leash obedience trained and off leash safe for recall in all kinds of public spaces with distractions in just three weeks, for the health and safety of your dog (because they likely use harsh stressful training methods to try to passably achieve that sort of ridiculous goal, and also because your dog will most likely not actually be fluently off leash recall safe which could put them in danger if you let them off leash believing they are) as well as because that's just a scam. Fluent, reliable off leash recall takes longer than just three weeks to achieve for most dogs and most breeds, even with a remote collar.

Dogs also are not mentally capable of spending 40+ hours a week focused on working, learning, and retaining new information. Humans aren't even really capable of working that much a week without it having negative impacts on our physical and mental health - yes, my fellow Americans, our standard full time work week is unhealthy and abusive, this is backed by science, sorry if you didn't know that already but I'm sure most of you did because of your own personal experience suffering from it.

Dog training is most effective when done in short sessions limited to a total of just a couple hours a day max (possibly longer on a good day with a more experienced already well trained dog, or when doing review or practice of simpler things a dog already knows really well, but certainly not with teaching new behaviors to mostly or completely untrained dogs) with rest breaks that are ideally at least 15-30 minutes long in between sessions and include naps. Breaks to decompress and nap for a bit are important to provide dogs time to return to their baseline stress and excitement level (which would ideally be 0) so they can recover some mental and physical energy and be able to process the new information they've just been given and properly store it away for later use before being given any more new information to process.

This may not be the best example, but it's how it was explained to me; think of dogs' brains (brains in general, really, of all animals including humans) like computers. Computers have limits to how much information and how many commands they can process at once. When they're at that limit continuing to add more stuff to process will result in them starting to overheat, stressing and/or damaging the processor which may cause corruption of processed data and incomplete processing to happen going forward, and will eventually result in the processor failing if not corrected. The same applies to teaching and working your dog and their brain processing new information and behaviors that you are trying to get them to learn, or already learned behaviors that you are asking them to recall and perform.

Longer training without sufficient breaks will negatively impact a dog's mental state by quickly exhausting them and leading to a higher stress level for the rest of the session after they start to become exhausted, which will likely continuously worsen the longer the session goes on past their natural point of exhaustion. It will also make them perform worse during training because of that exhaustion and stress impacting their processing and recall abilities, resulting in more corrections needing to be used by their trainer during the session (assuming they're using any of the most common training methods, which typically use correction of mistakes to try to teach dogs what not to do), which will cause even more stress that could easily have been completely avoided by providing breaks and keeping sessions shorter.

The increased amount of mistakes and corrections alongside the exhaustion and stress will also make the dog less able to correctly retain anything they learned for the future and probably also make them more stressed about training that specific behavior, similar behaviors, or training in similar contexts going forward, as well as likely make the current training session and whatever you're trying to teach them during it more confusing for them and possibly even poison whatever you are trying to teach them (because the more a dog makes mistakes and is corrected and the more stressful a training session is the more potential there is for corrections to be misunderstood by the dog or for the dog to begin to become avoidant of any behaviors they have offered during the session for fear of more correction, especially if you/the trainer aren't delivering those corrections with ideal timing or in a way that is "fair" and balanced with rewards enough for the dog to be able to reliably recover from and move past being corrected to continue training, which is more likely to become the case when you/the trainer are doing long and probably very frustrating sessions where you/the trainer are also likely becoming stressed and exhausted).

I doubt they are actually doing 40+ hours (which is part of the scam of the advertising of that board and train package) but if they are that is actually cruel, ESPECIALLY given that this particular business uses harsh remote collar/e-collar/"shock" collar training with minimal rewards (I know this because I went through their interview process for a job with them a few years ago that I was offered but ended up turning down because their training methods conflict with both animal behavior science and my personal ethics).

They're the kind of training business to claim that you can make remote stimulation (the "shock" from the collar) a totally neutral thing by making the stim into the A (antecedent) in ABC (Antecedent, Behavior, Consequence) instead of the C (consequence) by pairing the stim with the command when it is given as a "little tap on the shoulder" to "remind the dog to keep their attention on the trainer" instead of doing the stim after a dog fails to offer the desired behavior as a form of correction which IS JUST NOT HOW THAT WORKS AT ALL. THAT'S NOT HOW ANIMALS LEARN, THAT'S NOT BASED IN ANY SCIENCE, THAT'S NOT HOW ABC WORKS! YOU CAN'T IN ANY WAY GUARANTEE AND SHOULD NOT ASSUME THAT AN ANIMAL WILL LEARN TO INTERPRET SOMETHING THAT IS GENERALLY AVERSIVE AS A NEUTRAL ANTECEDENT INSTEAD OF JUST RANDOM AND CONFUSING APPLICATION OF AN AVERSIVE SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU WANT THEM TO INTERPRET IT THAT WAY. It also shows a serious lack of understanding from someone claiming to be a professional that you can trust with your dog of what an aversive is and who in a training interaction decides what is or is not aversive - the dog, not the trainer. So yeah, you can probably see why that's bad and stressful for the dogs if you have even a basic understanding of the science behind how dogs learn, especially if they're actually being subjected to that nonsense training method for 40+ hours a week.

TLDR, any training business making promises of totally completed training of a bunch of different skills like this in a short amount of time - some of which are complex skills and for a lot of dogs would generally require months of regular consistent training to achieve reliably (loose leash walking and off leash recall, in particular)(your retriever who came pre-installed with these behaviors from birth is an exception okay lol) - and claims to work your dogs a full time job amount of hours a week or more in order to achieve those claimed rapid results (while also more than likely having other dogs at the same time that they are also claiming to be working the same amount which is simply not possible for a human being who requires sleep and food breaks at minimum to function) probably uses training methods that many people would (rightfully) consider to be anti-science and abusive in order to get your dog to act the way they want quickly enough and consistently enough to make you believe they've properly done their job for just long enough to keep you from going after them after they take your money (because this kind of lazy training will more likely than not fall apart down the road, but by then you'll probably just blame yourself for not knowing how to upkeep it well enough or not putting enough hours in like they claimed they did or w/e). I know this because I have seen it myself and I have helped fix the training on more than one dog who has been through "training" programs like this. Just save your money and avoid it. It's a scam.

#random dog training rant lol #sorry not sorry #dog training #dog trainer

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s3znl-gr3znl · 6 days ago

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INCOMING COMMS

From: Lt Farelight, PCA

To: [ redacted ] AC // DRAGNET

Message: The PCA has been subject to a heist carried out by a splinter faction of Dosers. Theyre calling themselves the Guff. Three ACs penetrated one of our storage facilities and absconded with valuable cargo.

Your mission is to recover or destroy the stolen items before the Dosers can make use of it. An added reward will be given for each AC you take out in the process. Luckily they arent very smart and we managed to get a full readout of their ACs; I've gone ahead and forwarded the data.

Time is of the essence.

// END TRANSMISSION

"Justice. Answers. Revenge. Doesn't matter what you're looking for, nothing escapes the Dragnet."

Utilizing mid-range tactics, AC // DRAGNET casts a wide net to outnumber and entrap their targets. Having failed out of AC training for the PCA, the pilot of Dragnet has taken a less conventional approach to peacekeeping activities, though they must keep their identity a secret if they wish to remain employed. Easy enough since neither the PCA nor the Corps seem to care as long as they deliver.

Fuck man this was so much work and i havent even posted everything yet! Its crazy how much this game has to offer in setting, style, good ol fashioned fun, theories, and memes. Can honestly say it feels like this game changed the trajectory of my life in some ways.

#AC //#DRAGNET #AC // DRAGNET #PCA #armored core #armored core 6 #fanfic

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smokestarrules · 1 year ago

Note

Some somewhat angsty G-Witch headcanons

*During the three year time skip (very early in said time skip), it was discovered that the Data Storms on Suletta's body have spread to/have been engraved onto her heart while she was first piloting Caliburn

*During Suletta's recovery period, the doctors would subject her to some treadmill tests to see how to would affect her health

*This understandably worries Miorine, who worries about the prospects of Suletta's heart failing as a result of the Data Storms

*This would come to pass during one such test when Suletta overexerted herself and fell to the ground, prompting Miorine and some nearby doctors to resuscitate her

*Suletta would recover from this and these attack would become less and less frequent as she starts being more careful about her health

Oh yeah, there's definitely a lot of struggles that happened over the span of those three years, for Suletta and Miorine both. I'd bet Suletta especially would try to push herself to heal faster, which obviously wouldn't work well at all. It'll never happen, but a canon miniseries or movie about those three years before the timeskip would be incredible.

#mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #miorine rembran #suletta mercury #sulemio #smokey answers #anonymous

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justinspoliticalcorner · 5 months ago

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Christian Paz at Vox:

Coconut-pilled backers of a Kamala Harris presidential campaign argue that Harris runs about even or even better than Biden does against former President Donald Trump in polling; they point to Harris’s performance on the campaign trail so far, making the case against Trump and the American right’s plans in Project 2025; and at a base level, they argue that she has been tested on the national stage, while other alternative candidates have not. Critics of the KHive — as the online superfans of the vice president call themselves — and the VP argue that Harris is still really unpopular with the American public. They argue that the polls don’t actually show that much of an advantage for Harris in battleground states or with the popular vote; they point to her failed 2019 presidential campaign and her tepid vice presidential tenure as proof she’s not a particularly good candidate or politician and would likely run an uneven campaign. They also argue that Biden’s flaws and foibles are already built into the electorate’s mind, while the chaos and uncertainty of swapping in Harris would expose the Democrats to even more risks (like how voters react to a woman of color as a nominee). The debate was the roiling undercurrent of the will-he-or-won’t-he drama over Biden these last few weeks. How it resolves now that he is off the ticket could have enduring ramifications for both the Democratic Party and the country.

The upsides to swapping in Harris

Harris backers have plenty to point to in the aftermath of June’s presidential debate. There’s the obvious stuff: Harris is younger, can actually string sentences together, and has already been campaigning against Trump this year. These points were once again demonstrated this week — while Biden was forced to recover from Covid at his home in Delaware during the week of the Republican National Convention, Harris was on the trail with North Carolina Democratic Gov. Roy Cooper. [...]

The risks of swapping in Harris

What the data says: The major problem in comparing these Harris figures to Biden’s actual standing against Trump is that Biden’s numbers factor in every negative thing that he and his campaign have endured so far. Biden backers would point to the fact that opinions of Harris could still change for the worse as her theoretical campaign becomes not so theoretical anymore, and that her performing about as evenly as Biden against Trump is not that great of a sign when there is more uncertainty about how Harris would even campaign. On that front, they point to the fact that Harris’s favorability numbers are not that different from Biden’s, and could still get worse. In recent polls, she performs worse than Biden in battleground states like Michigan, Arizona, and Nevada — losing those states would likely doom a Democratic candidate. And she doesn’t necessarily do significantly better than Biden when looking at how subgroups of voters feel: She wins the same share of Black voters as Biden in head-to-head matchups with Trump in battleground states, per Split-Ticket.org’s polling, and does slightly worse than Biden among white voters, who still make up the majority of voters in swing states and nationally.

Joe Biden withdrew from re-election, and passed the baton to Kamala Harris.

Does Harris give the Democrats a better chance to win the Presidential election, and have a chance to keep the Senate and/or flip the House? Or does it not matter anyway? Find out in a few months.