#Orbital decompression

[novelistdaviswrit3s]

Rare Disease Day

I’m a little bit late… I have to say I’m a tad bit late to the party. I didn’t know that yesterday 2-28-23 was Rare Disease Day for I spent the day doing therapy, laundry, and washing my hair. It wasn’t until I went on Facebook about five minutes ago and saw a post from a fellow spoonie that I found out. Rare Disease Day is a big deal for me for I am one of few that was born with a rare…

[raymonddouglasmd]

Medical Advances in Orbital Decompression Surgery: What Patients Should Know

Orbital Decompression surgery has witnessed remarkable advancements in recent years, offering new hope and improved outcomes for patients dealing with conditions such as Graves' disease or other orbital disorders. As medical science progresses, it's essential for patients to stay informed about these developments. Here's what individuals considering or undergoing Orbital Decompression Surgery should know about the latest medical advances in the field.

Minimally Invasive Techniques: Recent breakthroughs in orbital decompression surgery have paved the way for minimally invasive procedures. These techniques involve smaller incisions and reduced trauma to surrounding tissues, leading to quicker recovery times and minimized scarring. Patients can explore options that offer the benefits of traditional surgery with a less invasive approach.

Customized Treatment Plans: Advancements in diagnostic imaging and surgical planning have allowed for more personalized treatment plans. Surgeons can now precisely assess the extent of orbital involvement, leading to tailored surgical strategies that address each patient's unique condition. This personalized approach enhances the effectiveness of the surgery and promotes better long-term outcomes.

Improved Cosmetic Outcomes: Patients seeking orbital decompression for aesthetic reasons, such as eye protrusion, can benefit from improved cosmetic outcomes. Surgeons are now better equipped to achieve harmonious results, restoring a natural appearance to the eyes while addressing the underlying medical concerns. This dual focus on functionality and aesthetics is a significant advancement in the field.

State-of-the-Art Technology: Cutting-edge technologies, such as advanced imaging systems and surgical instruments, have revolutionized Orbital Decompression Surgery. Surgeons can now navigate complex orbital structures with greater precision and accuracy, reducing the risk of complications and improving overall surgical outcomes. Patients can have confidence in the use of state-of-the-art technology during their procedures.

Dr. Raymond Douglas and Orbital Decompression: Dr. Raymond Douglas, a leading oculoplastic and reconstructive surgeon, specializes in orbital decompression surgery. His expertise and commitment to advancements in the field are evident. Patients can find valuable information about the latest techniques and technologies employed by Dr. Douglas to ensure optimal results and patient satisfaction.

Comprehensive Patient Education: Advancements in patient education have empowered individuals to make informed decisions about their healthcare. Online resources, like Dr. Raymond Douglas's website, provide comprehensive information about orbital decompression surgery, including its benefits, risks, and post-operative care. This transparency allows patients to actively participate in their treatment journey.

In conclusion, the field of orbital decompression surgery has experienced significant medical advances, providing patients with improved options, outcomes, and overall experiences. As technology continues to evolve, individuals considering or undergoing orbital decompression can benefit from staying informed and consulting with experienced professionals like Dr. Raymond Douglas, who are at the forefront of these groundbreaking developments.

Contact us

Phone: 310-363-8757

Email: info@raymonddouglasmd.com

9675 Brighton Way Suite 410 Beverly Hills, CA 90210

[drsurbhikapadia]

Thyroid Eye Disease: Expert Treatment and Care by Dr. Surbhi Kapadia

Thyroid Eye Disease (TED) is a condition that not only affects ocular health but also significantly impacts the quality of life. In Vadodara, Dr. Surbhi Kapadia stands as a beacon of hope for those suffering from TED, offering advanced treatment options and comprehensive care.

Advanced Treatment Options for Thyroid Eye Disease

Dr. Kapadia employs a multifaceted approach to treating TED, tailored to the severity of each case. Her treatment regimen includes:

Medications: Utilizing corticosteroids and immunosuppressants to manage inflammation and other symptoms.

Innovative Surgical Techniques: For severe TED cases, Dr. Surbhi Kapadia offers surgical options such as orbital decompression, which alleviates pressure on the eye, and eyelid surgery to correct vision-related issues and improve cosmetic appearance.

Living with Thyroid Eye Disease: Insights and Tips

Living with TED involves continuous management. Dr. Kapadia advises:

Regular Monitoring: Keeping track of symptom progression and adjusting treatment plans accordingly.

Lifestyle Modifications: Implementing lifestyle changes like quitting smoking, which is known to exacerbate TED.

Eye Protection: Using sunglasses to protect the eyes from UV rays and environmental irritants.

Frequently Asked Questions About Thyroid Eye Disease Answered

Dr. Kapadia addresses common queries regarding TED, offering clear and concise information:

Diagnosis: Explaining the methods used to diagnose TED, including clinical assessments and imaging techniques.

Treatment Effectiveness: Discussing the success rates of different treatment options and what patients can expect.

Post-Treatment Care: Highlighting the importance of follow-up care post-treatment to ensure the best outcomes.

Conclusion:

Dr. Surbhi Kapadia's expertise in treating Thyroid Eye Disease makes her one of the best ophthalmologists in Vadodara for patients seeking specialized eye care. Her dedication to her patient's well-being ensures that they receive not only the best medical treatment but also the support and guidance needed to navigate through the complexities of TED.

[deep-space-netwerk]

What do you mean by Venus floating cities?

I'm hoping to write a science fiction story about visiting Venus as part of the space race and I would love your input

Alright so the thing with Venus is that we're all very familiar with her horrible hell-death clouds and 900°F surface temperatures. We all understand the surface of Venus is not a fun place for humans to be.

But, nobody ever talks about the fact that ABOVE the hell-death clouds, Venus is a paradise. The most Earth-like environment we know of in the solar system, beyond Earth itself, is actually in the skies of Venus.

About 30 miles above the surface, the pressure is ~1 atmosphere, and the temperature ranges from 30 - 100°F, which is Happy Human™ standard pressure and temperature.

What's more, a breathable mix of oxygen and nitrogen provides over 60% the lifting power on Venus that helium does on Earth. In other words, a balloon full of human-breathable air would float to the habitable range of Venus's atmosphere. We could float a ship with the very air we breathe.

The other great thing about this is that it avoids one of the big problems with Mars colonization. On Mars, any habitat on the surface full of breathable air is vulnerable to leaks and explosive decompression, a la the Martian.

Floating on Venus, a balloon full of breathable air doesn't have a significant pressure difference between the inside and the outside. Which means, any leaks or tears would be very slow and manageable. You could fix that shit with duct tape!

Similarly, because the environment outside the balloon is so Earth-like, humans living there wouldn't need any big fancy pressurized suits for extravehicular work. We'd need air to breathe, maybe some heat protection, and protection against the acid rain. That's it. 

Venus also provides the tools to keep us fed! It's atmosphere is made primarily of carbon dioxide, even above the dense horrible clouds. What likes carbon dioxide? Plants from Earth!! Lets grow FOOD on FLOATING PLATFORMS in the SKIES of VENUS.

This whole idea actually came out of a NASA effort exploring potential Venus colonization. The program was called HAVOC - the High Altitude Venus Operational Concept.

It hasn't really gone anywhere, and as far as I know there are no real plans to revisit it. Unfortunately, from a practicality standpoint, Mars is a much more viable target for human colonization. Not only is it better poised for outer solar system exploration, being farther away from the sun, but living on Venus would come with too many complicated contingencies. In the event of a major failure on Venus, you'd need to fly to another base, or fuck off all the way to orbit. I understand why people aren't really in a hurry to live somewhere where landing on the surface means certain death.

But that doesn't mean I won't be forever and always enamored by the skies of Venus. Here's one of the artist concepts to come out of HAVOC.

I want to be there.

[hazel51]

Orbital Decompression Surgery in Mumbai

Orbital Decompression: What is it and what does it entail?

For one reason or another there are eye complications that develop out of the blues and without proper treatment, might cause blindness, either temporary or permanently. Orbital decompression surgery in mumbai procedure that is used by opticians for conditions like thyroid eye disease. It has proven effective at The Esthetic Clinics, India in removal of layers of fat and even bone structures from the eye socket, also known as the orbit, from the eye of patients. Thyroid eye disease often occurs naturally, however, can be caused by conditions like inability to close eyes, experiencing double vision, bulging of the eye balls and even disfigurement cases.

Before surgery preparation For Orbital Surgery in Mumbai

You have to be ready for the procedure before the day of its execution. Proper research will expose you to real time facts on the procedure, its risks and what it entails. It is the duty of the doctor to guide you through the various precautions to observe before and after the procedure for successful recovery from the procedure. An eye exam must be done by your doctorto determine whether there are any fat deposits or bone extensions in your eye orbit using a CT scan. You are also prepared mentally for the procedure during the diagnosis and testing period for better preparations for the procedure.

How is it done?

The procedure will definitely have to be administered by a certified optician specialist when the patient is under the effect of anaesthesia treatment. To access the caruncle, an incision is made on the upper eyelid. Upon reaching the medial inner corner of your eye, they are supposed to remove part of the bone between the eye and the nose. Any bone forming the outer wall of the socket is also alleviated during the procedure. Through an incision on the lining of the periorbita (thin lining covering the eye), the excess fats can be spread and even removed if the doctor deems it necessary during the procedure.

After surgery

There are painkillers that the doctor offers for pain management besides other disinfectants for the wound you are supposed to clean routinely. Avoid exposure to direct or bright sunlight that can cause harm to the recovery process. You also need to avoid any heavy duty tasks, for instance working out or lifting heavy items. It might help to get a personal assistant or family member to render a helping hand whenever you are incapacitated to handle basic house chores.

Are there any risks involved?

There are definitely a number of risks and challenges you must be open minded to upon getting the procedure. This is normal with most procedures to later on have minor complications during the recuperation window. The list of risks you are vulnerable to include double vision, swollen conjunctiva, eyelid malposition, vision loss, sinus infections, and cases of epiphora, scarring and even damages or injuries to optical nerves. The procedure is, however, safe when done in the right facility like The Esthetic Clinics, Mumbai. Ensure you with best Eyelid Surgeon in Mumbai report any major and minor setbacks in the recovery process to Dr. Debraj Shome should they show potential of slowing down the healing.

[comicaurora]

What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

[amazingspider-z]

potentially partially inspired by @wazzappp 's Mantis Blade au in terms of Khaji Da giving Jaime funky little extras (that make him suffer so much) i present the wing portion of the Reachling au!

Inspired by that time he fell from orbit without Khaji Da in issue #36 of the 2006 run.

Basically, my current working theory is that Khaji Da was prepping a bunch of. Ahem. extras that just needed to be triggered to cause the musculoskeletal change just in case, and while it was initializing the reboot they activated the wings along with the forcefield, which. Doing it all at once as they were shutting down definitely hurt like hell, but Jaime did get out of orbit without breaking (almost) every bone in his body so. A win is a win (until he decompresses enough for everything to sink in, anyway).

Like actual beetle wings, they fold up, although Jaime doesn't have elytra unless he is actually suited up, and if Khaji Da lends a hand they can even fold up beneath the skin. They're also the wings he has from this point on as the Blue Beetle, although like the rest of him they end up armored, and have that extra technological oomph.

[salubriwrites-blog]

The Amnesia Game

A Mr. Reca/Black Swan romance.

I made the first chapter. This is shaping out to be a 2-3 chapter story, and it's my current palette cleanser, so I hope you enjoy!

I'll be putting this up on ao3 when its complete. Contains 2.6 spoilers, proceed with caution. CW: Manipulation (no matter how consensual)

You can find Part 2 here!

Part 1: Homecoming

Penacony was a beautiful planet, and returning to its orbit always warmed a forgotten part of his soul. One that lay dormant and was only stirred to life by almost familiar sights and sounds on the Planet of Festivities. Reca’s last visit home was at least a hundred Amber Eras ago, it had felt like returning to an empty childhood home. Even the memoria sounded and tasted different when he stepped into his room at the Reverie. What was that feeling called? He asked himself now as he stepped off the lift and into the claustrophobic halls of the habitation complex. To be homesick for a place to which you cannot return? 

“Hiraeth,” he exclaimed, echoing his Assistant Director. “It is hiraeth, a sharp memory.” Reca chuckled and as he juggled his keys in his hand a comforting, more familiar sensation greeted him. The apartment was usually empty, a shell of a home that Reca had to resuscitate every time he returned from traveling abroad. Not this time though, the apartment’s heartbeat was steady and solid as he hurried to its front door. Usually around this time all of the other studios and habitats were alive and breathing with conversation and dinner time aromas. At the welcome mat, the smell of a warm meal permeated under the door and weaved through his feet like a feline. It could only mean one thing, the Memokeeper thought as he patted his hair down.

“You’re here,” he declared musically, swinging the front door open to the sight within. Reca’s heart played monkey bars on his ribs and he felt like a child again, smiling like this for Black Swan. Leaning against his kitchen counters, turning only her head to face him, she was tasting the contents of a pot. Her purple hair was wound up tight into an elegant twist that accentuated her profile, neck adorned with jewelry befitting her rank as Memokeeper. Amber eyes glittered anew as Reca dropped his bag at the still open door and strode inward to her. 

“Of course, it wouldn’t be home without me here,” Black Swan laughed, throwing her head back as his lips reached for her bejeweled neck. Lifting her off the ground, Reca half spun her before setting her back on her two feet. Not that she had to fall far, Black Swan was taller than him by a foot, she held his face and tilted it upwards, admiring his face like she hadn’t been able to for months. Her lips were plump and glistened with gloss when they kissed, warming his shoulders and dragging him in. “Welcome home, Elias dear.” 

“Why thank you, darling.” Elias Reca pressed his nose into her neck. She smelled divine, brushing his lips at her nape before slumping to lean against the counters next to her. “You are absolutely right.” Tilting his head, the Memokeeper watched her pull his oven mitts on her hands and haul the pot from the stove. “You also didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“Nonsense, you are worth all this and more.” She mimicked him before stepping up to the stove. This was not her home, but you wouldn’t know that as the cutlery bent to her will, and the stove never complained of igniting at her touch. Maybe this would be the time she’d accept his invitation to move in with him. “Go shower, decompress, I’ll tell you when it's ready… without me!” She added with a melodic laugh, only half resisting as Reca pulled her out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. 

“I changed my mind,” he sang, snapping his fingers and illuminating the upstairs loft. With a creak the shower hummed to life as Ms. Swan allowed him to pull away her sweater. “I do want all of this.”

“Sounds like you had an eventful visit to Penacony,” Black Swan mused after dinner, readjusting her plush robe as she twisted her legs into his. They had been planning to eat at the table, but after that shower, replaying the sounds of water and soaking sounds bouncing off the tiles, they were left too satisfied. The candlelit dinner was meant to be part of the foreplay, but now that they were staggering back to eat in just their robes, the set table and flowers felt unnecessary. So they put one of Black Swan’s favorite movies on instead and collapsed into the large couch with the coffee table pulled close so that the wine was near.

“Eventful is certainly a word for that,” Elias groaned, rubbing her calves and enjoying how she felt under his hands. “I ended up having to resort to that silver haired Trailblazer to unlock the Galaxy Ranger’s memories after all.” 

“The Trailblazer’s fate is a uniquely entwined one… I wouldn’t let it bother you that that was what came to pass. Not to mention it was a Stellaron Hunter who warned you of this solution.” 

“Yes, but oh! To defy that damned Script and rub it in her smug face,” he sighed, clutching a fist dramatically to the air before letting his hand fall back down atop her thigh. In that reflective quiet, his gaze found hers, and they couldn’t stop themselves from laughing at the absurdity of his attempt to defy Stellaron Hunters and their unyielding mission. “I missed you, and I… needed this quite badly.” He gestured to the empty bowls, the bottle of wine, and the movie that quietly played in the background of his lush apartment. Behind them the auroras from the Garden cast Black Swan in fractured colors like she was a stained window come to life. “I owe you a night like this.” 

“Is there something you have in mind already, or maybe I can make a suggestion?” The Memokeeper asked, reaching to hold his legs as Reca pulled her in. Kissing and swooning, he exhaled the loneliness and inhaled Black Swan. She was right, home was wherever she went, and right now all he wanted was to unravel in each other’s arms and be at home.

“You are the professional on lovely evenings, I’ll hear you out.” 

“Would you,” she started, pushing her legs further into his lap, hugging his hips with her heels. “Like to fall in love with me?”

“Our Amnesia game?” Pursing his lips, Elias worked his hand underneath her robe to caress her legs. The Amnesia Game, as they uncreatively dubbed it, was one that he had come up with to keep their relationship satisfied. Being quasi immortal entities facing time, chance, and entropy’s cruel hands together meant that they were ever on the hunt for ways to stay in love. The last time they played the Amnesia game it had lasted months, almost spanning an Amber Era, and oh what fun it had been. The anticipation, the mystique their chemistry invoked, if he could get away with it he’d graft those moments into a movie to play at Penacony’s Golden Hour forever. However, as Reca ruminated on the idea his body was sinking further into the couch, happy to not be moving.

It had been many, long months in Penacony. The infiltration of his alma mater had been his strongest performance yet, and now that it was over all Reca wanted was to be quiet. Not have to breathe a word, just file paperwork, organize his films, and rest. It was hard to keep that boundary when he was welcomed home like this, brought inside like a hero and treated to wonderful sex and a home cooked meal. More than the quiet, more than the mundane aspects of Memokeeping, he missed Black Swan. How magnificent it was, to be adored and yearn for the charming woman, who was guiding his hand to part her bathrobe. Her energy left Reca feeling electrified and raring to do it all over again. To march back out that door and ruin another evil genius. Except he would miss her, if they played. He just wanted a few days at her side, resting against her while she stroked his shoulders and read her books. 

Still thoughtful, he watched Black Swan unhook her legs from each other and let one drop to the floor, pulling the robe even further apart. Maybe he would make that one of the rules, Reca smiled now as he watched Ms. Swan’s face twitched and tense to the rhythm of his teasing. “I only want to play for a month,” he mused aloud, leaning her to lie back against the couch. At first she sighed and relaxed, but when his shadow overtook her, Black Swan’s eyes snapped open with disbelief.

“Didn’t you say you were too tired?” She giggled, melting into a cooing sigh as his fingers reached for her lips beneath the robe.

“We don’t have to,” he teased, no longer sure if they were talking about playing the game, or his fingers playing over her body.

“Keep going,” the Memokeeper whispered, her face softening as he obeyed her demand. 

“I could be convinced for two months, but no more than that, and I want you to give me hints.” Elias carried on, leaning to sit back on his knees as he pulled her calve to rest on his shoulder. 

“Hints, hm?” Black Swan asked, her hands reaching out to wrap around his wrist, encouraging Reca as her spine tightened and her toes curled. With a wave of her hand the coffee table jutted across the room so that they could slip from the couch to the floor. He didn’t answer again until her sighs unfurled and she came apart like a thing that Reca could pick up and read for himself. Until they were left gasping and reaching for the wine, sharing a glass between them.

“Yes, I’ll reward you extra points if you can convince me up onto a rooftop for our first kiss,” he whispered to her, running half damp locks of purple through his fingers, leaving a trail of wet kisses over her neck. “Maybe this is the time I’ll conquer my vertigo.” Languishing in the quiet, he whispered sweet things into her ears, lips tickling her neck and the roots of her hair as Black Swan held him near. 

“Rooftop kisses and hints, I can work with that… where would you like us to meet?” 

Thinking, Elias snapped his fingers again and the screen mounted on the wall died, casting the pair in blue and green darkness. Together they lay, their fingers searching for the best places to hold one another, reacquainting themselves with how nice it was to be adored like this. “I have an interview at Pier Point about my project, I’ll be there for a week or two, what about then?” 

“Pier Point, look at you,” she teased, pushing her hair out of her face. “That makes things easier… What about starting? Maybe we can begin in a few days? I need some time to scheme,” Black Swan added, letting Reca help her off the floor as they drifted to the spiral staircase. 

Laughing at how they had to rely on the bannister and rails to climb the staircase, Reca crawled into bed beside her. 

“Give me a few more days of this,” he asked, letting her body eclipse him as she pressed herself against his back. Another wanting shudder played down his spine as Ms. Swan’s naked body pressed him, her hips contouring to fit his frame well. Alas, the flesh was in need of a deep slumber. “All of this is exactly what I needed.” 

Pushing his bangs from his face, Black Swan kissed his ears until his tiny snores reverberated against her chest. “I can’t wait for you to fall in love with me,” she whispered to him, knowing her voice would reach him deep in that dreamless place. “See you soon, dearest.” 

Morning always came too soon when Elias couldn’t fall asleep, he tossed to try and reach for a pillow to block out the cool, chiming ambiance that was his alarm clock. However he had tossed all of them to the floor in his restlessness. Rolling on his back, Reca squeezed his eyes tight before opening them to watch the morning light filter through his bedroom curtains. Pier Point was as contrasting to the Garden as a world of color being reduced to monochrome. Where Elias’ home was always lit up with gorgeous hues cast by the archive of memories, Pier Point was cold and corporate grays and blacks highlighted by industrial apathy. The night before Reca tossed and turned trying to fall asleep in this city of lights, longing for the quiet where he was lulled to sleep by only his breath. Though his bad nights sleep couldn’t be solely blamed on struggling to fall asleep in a new place.

“Good morning, Mira,” he groaned, pressing his palms to his face as around him the room came alive. The bedroom curtains opened slowly, and the alarm’s gentle chiming faded into a pair of talking heads yapping about an electrical storm in the Asdana system. It was harder than he thought, Elias’ head felt top heavy and was the last thing to become vertical as he forced himself up. “Kindly give me the briefing for today’s travel table, and start the coffee.” 

With a croak, the Assistant Director powered to life and sent a timetable to the screen in the shower for Elias to read as he began his morning. The IPC’s home planet was a cold place that only really cared for numbers and expansionism, but they knew how to make an exceptional hotel. Little tricks such as these were the ticket to keeping employees happy enough to work to death, and people like Mr. Reca unwilling to challenge their status quo. Stepping out onto the warmed floors of the bathroom, a cup of espresso waited for him as he stared at his naked reflection, where he transferred that data from the table. He felt as awful as he looked, the bags under his eyes were defined while his head and chest pounded as he reached for the bottle of pain relievers to quell this body ache. Squinting to himself as he gulped the pills down, Elias tried to remember if he’d done anything the night before to cause this. 

His heart fluttered in his chest with excitement for seemingly nothing, and his head moved between heavy and light as he checked the clock every few minutes. It was a feeling of nerves, that made sense in a way as he would be meeting galactical superstar Owlbert later that morning for his interview. That was something to be nervous about, but that wasn’t something that would make his stomach heavy with nerves and his fingers fidget as he gripped the gray sink. He hadn’t gone to bed drunk the night before, so he couldn’t chalk this feeling up to a hangover. It was like his body was counting down to a secret that was being kept from his mind.

He wanted to walk back into the shower and sit underneath the warm spray for a little while as he waited for relief to come. Fate wouldn’t have that, and Mira was calling for him from the bedroom. “Yes, yes, I won’t miss the train.” 

Painkillers did nothing to soothe Elias, who dressed incognito for the purpose of traveling to the IPC Studio. A black suit and pair of sunglasses to block the light from the trains and hide his telltale eyes from any possible fans. Mira hid in his breast pocket, peering over the lip of the fabric to take in the metropolitan surroundings before hiding again. He heard a few whispers as he clung to the overhead railing of the train, but they were easy to ignore. Of course, none of this was actually necessary. Mr. Reca could have requested a personal car be sent for him, and he could ride in style over the bustling tunnel ways and train system. He wanted to do it like this, though. It was good for his perspective to see and experience what every day people like these IPC drones went through. Even though he fumbled with payment to get into the station, and had to track down a station attendant to navigate the different lines, it was charming. Charming and engaging enough to help him forget about this heaviness in his body that was decidedly not the result of poor sleep. 

Unlike the rest of Pier Point, the studio had an art deco facade with abrasive bulbs that outlined the edges of the building. The marquis was backlit with bold, black font that read, Today Only! Owlbert’s Live Studio Interview featuring Special Guest Mr. Reca! Even this early in the morning, with still hours to go before his showtime, the line to get into the studio was trying to wrap around the building like an ouroboros. Keeping his head down, the whispers only got louder as he was ushered in the lobby of the recording studio. Inside it boasted plush rugs and comfortable arm chairs. Photographs of prolific idols hung around the front room, looking down on the director as he prepared himself to take a seat, looking for a chance to recline and soothe his discomfort. There was something more to this dull throb, and he wished he had the time to try and understand it. Honestly, it was best that Elias forced himself to ignore it for now, these kinds of things were bad for his nerves.

“You’re right,” he told Mira, dragging his finger affectionately across the frog’s head. “Interview first, we must put on our best performance.”

“Mr. Reca! Welcome to IPC’s Telecommunication Studio,” the receptionist at the front desk stood up to clap her hands together excitedly. “You’re early, would you like to wait in your dressing room?”

“That would be wonderful,” he supposed, dragging his fingers beneath his dark bags as he was taken away. Through the frosted, glass doors she ushered him through hallways that were similarly decorated. More faces and posters beamed down at him, and as Reca passed them he wondered hopefully if he’d be asked to sign his own portrait. 

A small flight of artists waited for Elias in his dressing room, where they helped him into colors and textures that were a little more familiar. That made the nerves flatten a bit, seeing himself in something that - compared to these corporate drones - burst with color and life. Most notably, the makeup artist worked wonders to save his complexion. A true talent, he thought admirably as he touched gingerly at the foundation. He would have to take care to not ruin it until he got home that night, Reca damn near felt alive now. Another cup of coffee and a few magazine articles later, a stage assistant knocked and appeared.

“Crew are ready to mic you up, sir.”

Walking through the back stage, Reca caught sight of the house. It was packed to the brim, not a single empty chair was facing Owlbert’s stage. 

“Go on, get the shot,” he lingered, pulling his assistant director from his pocket. With a lively croak, Mira leapt from Elias’ hand and she disappeared beneath the heavy curtains. He would enjoy rewatching this interview for himself later in the evening.

“Good morning, good afternoon, and goooooood evening!” A familiar, equally dramatic voice hooted from the stage as Mr. Reca held still, allowing the technician to snap his microphone to his coat collar. 

“Break a leg out there,” the crew told him as he fixed himself. 

“One of our guests today is a five time winner of the Galaxy Awards, just returned from the set of his latest and hottest production that will be up for consideration this year. Guests from afar, please put your hands together for-” Owlbert’s words were drowned out as the crowd had already begun to applaud and scream. 

Exuding confidence, but still thankful for the makeup that concealed his flustered skin tone, Mr. Reca bowed deeply to the audience and walked slowly across the stage. He even stepped off into the House and shook a few hands of the front row guests. It was controlled chaos as they screamed and bounced in their seats, but never rose from them to lay hands on Elias. After he had milked that attention from those rabid fans, he turned and held his arms out as if surprised to see Owlbert waiting before approaching a familiar sofa. 

Owlbert rose from his seat to shake the director’s hand before they both took their seats. Mr. Reca was also obviously a fan of the show, and knew just how to sit on the cushions that would make the light fall properly over his shoulders. Resting an arm out across the back of the couch, Reca angled himself to face the host before raising a hand in the air. Waving it and then dramatically closing his fist, like they were well trained performers who had been rehearsing together for months, the studio audience fell silent. 

“Very impressive, Mr. Reca,” the host laughed, applauding the director in turn as the man offered a small bow from his seat. “This is your first time on our stage, and yet you command like it was always yours.” 

 “You know, Owlbert,” Elias laughed, winking to the camera, where Mira was sitting in one of the aisles, completely unseen by the audience members. “Every stage I’m on becomes my stage. Though I thank you for sharing this beautiful space with me.” 

Yes it was true, this was his first time on a stage like this, but it was just another performance. Elias was dreading the pounding in his temple that would come from this. None of the pain relievers that he nor the studio offered him had kicked in yet. Knowing that relief would not come, Reca hoped that he could hold his head to nurse his headache in a way that wouldn’t raise questions or suggest disinterest. The crowd ate up his commentary, while Owlbert was impressed and breath taken by their on stage chemistry. Their easy banter made it difficult for the host to naturally pivot to the purpose of that day’s interview. 

“Now, Mr. Reca,” the host began, finally finding a pause to catch his breath and wrest control from the director. “I want to turn the scope onto your most recent work, which will be hitting theaters later this month, Cosmic Ninjutsu Inscriptions.” The crowd turned to stare at the director expectantly, a normal person may have buckled underneath the weight of all those eyes. Not he though, as Reca leaned back and shifted his anchorpoint, crossing one leg over the other.  “Your newest film follows a young apprentice who has forsaken the path of her master’s, seeking out a colorful - both literally and figuratively - new way of the ninja for herself. While striking out to blaze this trail of hers, old shadows rise up and she must use her new code of honor to defeat them. Tell us a bit about your decision to weave this tale.” 

Chuckling to himself, Elias winked into the crowd, where a handful of audience members swooned, believing that the sweet gesture was for them. “It’s quite simple, Owlbert. Why would I deprive anyone of my talent? By expanding into… nuanced genres such as the gritty fantasy of Cosmic Ninjutsu Inscriptions, I can share my talent with even more fans.” Oh, this was too easy, he thought confidently, watching as Mira zoomed in to capture the awe struck expressions of the audience.

“Of course, that’s a generous approach, no one should be denied a good story.” 

“Indeed - I recently paid a visit to the Planet of Festivities, Penacony. My alma mater - Paperfold University - was hosting their anniversary celebrations. As I’m sure we’re all aware, the Dreamscape is a frenetic and dynamic culture, ideas echo through the memoria and just a whisper,” he emphasized by leaning forward and dropping his voice, though the microphone captured him. There was a thrilling moment as the audience leaned in too. “Just a whisper of a new idea may ripple and expand into a tsunami, affecting the dreamscape. I witnessed one such ripple while touring as a guest lecturer for the college, ninjas! Wayward warriors who stride over galaxies and systems, an army of one in many cases, chasing the wayward gales of evil. I fell in love with my fellow student’s fascination and determination to forge their own mantra, and what better way to spread my alma mater’s motto, ‘color your dreams, free your ideals’?”

Both the audience and Owlbert ate up his response, and once again he cast his gaze out toward the crowd, where he saw Mira. She had taken a seat pressed up against one of the stairs, that way if a guest were to come down the aisle she wouldn’t be stepped on. Except she wasn’t looking at him, the assistant director was distracted by a member of the audience in an aisle seat. Her lens was zoomed in on the guest’s face, and perhaps most shockingly, the guest was looking back at Mira. Large eyes like an inverted sunset, yellow that drained to black, were staring dreamily down at the frog. Seemingly more interested in that than the once in a lifetime interview she must have paid thousands of credits to be here for. A wellspring of thick, lilac curls poured down her shoulders and back, one lock was being twisted around her finger. It was mind boggling to Reca that this strange woman was aware of Mira, and giving her the light of day that he was entitled to-

“Mr. Reca?” His thoughts burst as the director blinked and returned to the present, with Owlbert leaning against his desk with a cheeky smile. “Didn’t stump you, did I?” 

“I- apologies, I was a little star struck by this gorgeous audience,” Elias explained smoothly, and the crowd applauded at his recovery. Notably again, she did not applaud him, instead resting her chin in her hand  and smiling dreamily at him. Now why was that the panacea to his discomfort? The knot in his chest loosened at her gaze, but Elias could not allow himself to be taken by this strange occurrence, and forced himself to look back at Owlbert. “Could you repeat your question, dear Owlbert?” Stealing little glances into the crowd, the man couldn’t quite know what it was because he was forced to continue to engage in the interview. All he knew is whenever he had a moment to lay eyes on her, the pain in his body ebbed away. The hour dragged on with only little reprieves when he could look into the crowd and look for her. For his final applause, Reca stood from his seat in hopes to see her in the ovation, but his heart dropped to see her seat suddenly empty. How could she have slipped away? He wondered as his feet were carrying him off stage as music played him out. 

The applause continued on even after Reca was gone and his microphone had been taken from his coat. 

“Are you alright, Elias?” Owlbert appeared at the director’s elbow after the show, big eyes watching keenly as Reca attempted to swat away the concern. “You got a little spacey in the middle of those questions.”

“No no, everything is fine, you are a wonderful host, thank you once again for having me on,” Mr. Reca clasped their hands together as he bowed once more. “I think I’m still a little travel weary still, I only got into Pier Point yesterday evening.” 

“That’s okay, these are things that we can edit in post,” the show host laughed, and laughed even harder when Elias joined in. “You’re more than welcome to rest in the dressing room before your signing.” 

“My signing?” The director echoed, doing the mental gymnastics to try and remember if this was part of the invitation. “I… I can’t recall agreeing to that.”

“Oh, well let me find your contract for you,” Owlbert said easily, and like magic produced a tablet, handing it to Elias. “During one of the IPC’s charity events, we hosted a silent auction. You volunteered an additional hour of your time to participate in a meet and greet to the highest bidder. Your time is precious, Mr. Reca, and fetches quite a hefty price I might add.” 

“No surprises there,” he mumbled to himself, staring at his flowing signature written on the screen. Thankfully he didn’t doublebook and dispelled the tablet. “I think I will take you up on that offer.” First to find Mira, he thought to himself as he peeked back through the thick curtains to see the studio. It was empty, only the ghost light illuminated the room as the director stepped back onto the stage. His footsteps echoed on the lacquered wood finish, and his shadow was cast long and deathly over Owlbert’s desk. 

“Mira,” he called out, his voice carried into the dark. No answer, well, not the one he was looking for. A whisper of fabric and leather squeezing against each other, followed by a familiar croak rose up from the house. Wheeling around, Elias’ body froze and found a pair of exquisite eyes that accompanied beady ones sitting in the stands. With another croak the assistant director jumped down the steps and toward the stage. 

“Mira,” a cool voice echoed him, and the woman stayed in her seat. “A fitting name: to look, to see. Very romantic of you.” It was her, the woman who had distracted him during the interview, right where he had seen her. Sitting casually she crossed her leg one over the other, the stretch of her skin tight pants was magnified in the quiet expanse. That purple hair was tied back elegantly now, spilling behind her and down the chair like an avalanche. As if it was planned, the lonely illumination from the ghost light cast her shape in exquisite shadow. Neither of them spoke while Mira hopped to his feet, waiting for him to return her to his place by his heart.

“That’s her… model name.” He had enough of the wherewithal to scoop the assistant director off the ground and hold her in both of his hands as he took a cautious step toward the steps. “You are… I’m not sure if you’re supposed to be here.” Reca admitted, giving the studio another expectant sweep, wondering if anyone would come in here and kick her out for sneaking back onto the set. Wondering if he had enough sway to stop them, because he needed to know who she was.

“Don’t you worry about me, Mr. Reca, I’m exactly where I need to be.” The strange woman replied coolly. Reca crossed his arms to seem indignant or impressed, truly though he did it to conceal his shiver. Her voice ran a finger down his spine, making him stand a little straighter.

“Are you a critic?” He squinted at her, watching for her expression to shift. It was a stony one, she had an excellent poker face as she rose from her place in the empty audience to descend the staircase. Goodness was she tall, Reca thought with the clench of his fist against his body as she stepped down to meet him. 

“Of course not, Mr. Reca,” the woman assured him, and it took some godly strength for him to stand his ground as she got close. This woman didn’t intimidate him, not one bit, but as her perfume swam into focus and he had to tilt his head backward to stare up at her his legs trembled with adrenaline. Why the sudden fight, flight, or freeze response? “In fact, you could say I’m your biggest fan.” 

“I’m flattered, truly,” the director lied, holding a hand to his chest as Mira croaked again. “Then may I ask what my biggest fan’s name is?” 

Appearing to think, she pressed a sharply manicured finger to her chin, seemingly not bothered by their striking proximity. Elias liked to think that he was a respectful and mindful gentleman, but could not bring himself to back away from her, even though his neck ached from having to lean back and look up. Maybe it was because of his pride, not wanting to back down from this challenging stranger. Yes, that had to be it. She was audacious and unyielding, she didn’t fluster or flinch at his words or presence. Instead she seemed… amused by him, and that annoyed Reca. Made him want to find what would get on her nerves and tease frustration out of her. 

“You may know me as Black Swan,” she seemed to decide, smiling down at Reca as his eyes must have twisted with confusion. A stage name?

“A pleasure to know you, Black Swan,” he bowed, and before he realized it he was kissing the top of her hand. How did that get there? He didn’t remember his brain giving the command to the rest of his body. Still, the gesture went a long way as her illegible face shifted into a warm smile. “I’d love to stay and get to know you better, but I’m afraid I have an obligation that I need to rest for.” 

Her smile remained eerily as Elias let go of her, pulling himself away from her, half wondering if she would try to follow him. In his time as a director, Reca had no choice but to master evading his fan’s attention. He wondered what kind of slip he would have to give her. Did he even want to?

“Of course, we’ll be seeing each other again soon,” Black Swan promised, twiddling her fingers as he gave the mysterious lady one more glance before slipping backstage again. 

[transitranger327]

Sundari Twilight, Chapter 1: Necessary Bonding

This fic was inspired by this art by inzuss. It’s a Barrissoka fix-it au that takes place during Season 5 of The Clone Wars (this chapter takes place after episode 9, “A Necessary Bond”). Read it on Ao3 or below the cut

Notes: Ahsoka has lived thru some shit. And Barriss is an excellent slicer (the Star Wars name for a hacker)

—

The shuttle descended from Coruscanti orbit. “It’s a bit tight for the nine of us,” Ahsoka thought, ”but it wasn’t a long trip.” Obi-Wan had graciously allowed her to fly the younglings back to the temple and skip out on the strategy conference she’d been dreading attending. On account of the frankly messed-up adventure they’d had coming back from Ilum. She wasn’t planning on lording that over Anakin, who hated conferences in much the same way she did, but maybe a younger her would have. One that hadn’t seen two years of constant war, fought off multiple diseases, died and been resurrected by literal Force gods, been hunted for sport and forced into slavery, or just had to protect six younglings from horrors she was barely a match for. At least she now had some free time to decompress and work thru her emotions. She had managed to only sob when the cockpit door was locked and Artoo her only companion. Anakin was probably finishing up making his travel plans and could only offer a few kind words and a short hug. But Barriss…Barriss…she would be there. She had said the trials had given her a lot to think about and she wasn’t deploying immediately. Ahsoka was just grateful to have someone who knew her available to talk. “All right kids, we’re approaching the Temple. Buckle up”

The younglings dashed out into the hangar ahead of Ahsoka, eager to return to their quarters. While many youngling clans kept in touch as they grew older (Ahsoka enjoyed catching up with her clan-mates over meals at the temple), she had a feeling these six would remain close friends for a long time. Bonds forged during crisis always seemed to last longer. That was something the Jedi were rapidly learning during the war, and while tradition dictated to let go of those bonds, she and Anakin had found the trust they had gained with the 501st to be much more useful than orthodoxy. Speaking of, he was standing there in the temple hangar, arms crossed, with the goofy grin he always wore when he was right. “Told you it wasn’t gonna be boring.” While the council tried stressing the Gathering was important or involved more responsibility, Anakin had just said that it wouldn’t be boring. “I’m glad you’re back safe,” he continued, as he gave her a small hug. This was not the same Anakin as the one who was full of stress and frustration when Ahsoka vanished on Felucia months prior. “All thanks to your training, Master.” “No, Ahsoka, you’re learning faster than I’m teaching you. Walk with me and Artoo?”

Master and Apprentice and Astromech walked the halls of the Jedi Temple together. Between the Onderon rebellion and the Gathering gone wrong, Tano had spent a lot of time away from Skywalker. They discussed their changing relationship, how they were becoming closer to partners than student and teacher. “The same thing happened to me and Obi-Wan after Geonosis. Those last few months of my apprenticeship, he trusted me like a brother.” Ahsoka could here the slight bitterness in his voice from Obi-Wan’s betrayal. But he continued, “I foresee those days coming for us too.” So that’s what changed. Maybe Anakin had spent time reflecting on loss. Or maybe he was saying something that he wasn’t sure about and trying to believe it. 

“But Master, weren’t you his padawan for a decade? You’ve only taught me for two years.” “Snips, you’re not an ordinary student, and I’m not an ordinary teacher. I’ve learned just as much from you as you have from me. Not to mention Rex, Obi-Wan, Padmé, and all your other teachers.” They really were an odd pair, but Ahsoka wouldn’t want it any other way. “Alright, Artoo and I have a secret briefing here. Take care of yourself.” “I will, Master.” 

—

Ahsoka stood at the door to Barriss’s dormitory. While there were some rumors circulating about the two of them being more than friends, visiting fellow Jedi at their rooms was viewed with less suspicion than being greeted by them at an entrance or hangar. And Ahsoka wanted to keep it that way. Not that she felt any shame, but she didn’t want any reprisal from the council. Plo and Obi-Wan would understand, surely, but the rest? She refused to keep thinking like this, and so rang the Barriss’s buzzer. A cheerful voice replied, “enter!”

And there she was. Beautiful pale green skin, soft gentle curves, piercing blue eyes, a finely embroidered hood, kneeling at a small altar. Ahsoka took a seat next to her and reached out: first with her hand, then with the Force. As their fingers intertwined and their spirits touched, Ahsoka let the raging torrent of the Force carry her into the quiet pool Barriss was meditating in. It felt like a spring day on Naboo, the water a touch too cold for Ahsoka’s liking, and a bit of chop from a strong breeze, but it slowly warmed and stilled in her presence. While they had began this practice years ago as group meditation between friends, it had become something much more intimate. A sharing of feelings that transcended the honesty between most other Jedi. Being able to ground themselves in each other had become a fundamental part of their relationship. And so the two Jedi sat there, basking in the presence of each other and the Force. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile when Barriss said, “Welcome back, my love.”

Barriss knew that her love could feel her intentions without words, but she also knew that physical words and touch meant more. While Ahsoka’s spirituality had sharply increased after Mortis, she was still firmly rooted in the material, the tangible. Which is why Barriss wasn’t surprised when Ahsoka planted a soft kiss on her exposed cheek, accompanied with an “I’ve missed you so much.” Oh who was she kidding, she loved hearing it too. She took off her hood, exposing the rest of her head to Ahsoka’s touch. Her hair was a privilege she offered to a rare few. Ahsoka took the invitation and wove her fingers into it as they continued kissing each other. 

—

The two Jedi had moved onto Barriss’s bed for more comfortable cuddles. Ahsoka was too tired for proper sex, but they had plenty of time for that later. She had settled for Barriss gently caressing her lekkus while she played with Barriss’s hair, which felt almost as good. “So how did the trials go?”

Barriss grimaced. The trials had been a mixed bag, but in a way that wasn’t obvious to most Jedi. “They were…fine.” She could tell Ahsoka knew what she meant. “With each trial, I grew more sure of myself and less sure of the Order. Everything we’re doing here feels less like doing the will of the Force and more like what’s politically convenient.” Despite knowing her lover would understand, she still felt the need to defend herself. “At one point, I had to mediate a mock dispute, and the correct, just answer wasn’t popular with either side. But isn’t fighting in the war completely at odds with that?”

None of this surprised Ahsoka. Multiple Jedi had made it known they were uncomfortable with being generals and commanders in the GAR, including Barriss. “I don’t disagree. There a lot of people we aren’t helping because they aren’t choosing sides or are actively fighting the Republic. And we should be helping them.”

This, however, did surprise Barriss. Ahsoka was always on the front lines, fighting side-by-side with the clones. Some had even started calling her and Anakin the “Heroes with No Fear”, a beacon of hope for the Republic. “How can you say that and still be fighting in the war?”

A question more people should be asking. “I’ve seen what armies do if left unsupervised. What warlords do when given control.” Ahsoka had to think a moment, trying to explain the certainty she felt about her own calling. “The Separatist Army is led by those who care nothing about sentient life. And if I don’t lead, who will? Tarkin is just as bad as Grievous, in many ways.” She smiled at her girlfriend, “just because it’s where I’m needed doesn’t mean it’s where you are needed.” As much as she wanted to always be side-by-side with Barriss, she knew their callings were different. There would always some distance between them. 

“I just wish there was a way to get the council and everyone else to understand that this whole war is wrong.” Barriss wanted, no, needed people to understand her.  “Well, I wouldn’t try bombing anything. I’m pretty sure that attack on Coruscant a year back is why we’re still in this war.”  “What do you mean?” “The bombing happened during the peace vote in the Senate. After it had already passed in the Separatist Parliament.”

The pieces started falling into place for Barriss. A Separatist attack on Coruscant after they had voted for peace, coincidentally during the Republic vote on it? It was obvious. “Someone is manipulating this war. I need to find out who it is.” Her eyes pleaded with Ahsoka, “can you help me slice into the HoloNet?”

Ahsoka smiled, “Of course, love.”

—

Out of the two of them, Barriss was the better slicer. Her master had always valued intellectual skills, and programming was simply another language that she managed to pick up during her travels. She had mostly asked for Ahsoka’s help in any hardware-related issues, as she was probably the best mechanic in the Order after Anakin. Sometimes slicing required a hardware interface, and Barriss believed in being prepared. As Ahsoka’s head rested in her lap, she began slicing into the secure channels of the HoloNet. Most of them were private senatorial channels, but a few were carrying military information. Barriss tried unlocking them with various password spoofers, but none budged. Writing specific slicing programs for each channel would take a long time, so she prioritized the ones that weren’t routed thru the Temple. She whispered to her girlfriend, “Hey sweetheart, after your nap, can you warm up your soldering station? We need to build a vicepick.”

Half-asleep, Ahsoka mumbled, “sure thing love.” She drifted off to sleep dreaming of circuits and snuggles.

Barriss kissed her partner’s montral and returned to slicing. Her signature 3-part decryptor would do nicely, and writing variations on them was second nature at this point, constantly tinkering in search of perfection. Topping it off, the decoy profile she included was a forged senate page, and the tag style she used would read as first-year academy student. To anyone other than the most experienced slicers, it would look like a senator amateurishly trying to read classified information. That is, if they even looked in the first place.

—

Elsewhere in the Galaxy

Maul woke up from his sleep in a Death Watch camp. “Something has Changed”

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for leaving a crew mate on a different planet?

For some context; I (M36) am the doctor for a research mission to Mars. My crew mates are Commander L, M, V, J, and W. M, V and J aren't that important for this, but J and W are.

Six "days" (time passes differently on Mars) into our mission, Houston spotted a storm on the satellites, but our commander, L, said we could do surface ops before it hit. I questioned whether this was a good idea, but as Houston had authorised it, she gave the order to go ahead. While they were out, Houston upgraded the rating to 'severe', so their research gathering was put on hold. The storm kept getting worse, however, and eventually L had to make the call to abort the mission.

Visibility was almost zero outside. You have to understand, we could barely see anything. As we struggled towards the MAV, W started talking about how we could shore it up, make tipping less likely. However, before he could finish, a piece of flying debris hit him, and he disappeared into the storm. We couldn't contact him on radio. His decompression alarm went off. Unfortunately, we couldn't afford to search, as the storm was so bad we were struggling to stand upright.

When we got to the MAB, I checked my computer and saw W's suit had sent a biometrics reading of blood pressure and pulse rate being zero. Decompression renders a human unconscious in less than 15 seconds, with death following after. I had good reason to believe W was dead.

L tried to come up with a way to find W's body, but I convinced her it wasn't worth it, as the MAV was about to tip over and we needed to launch before we all died. Looking for W's body would have just wasted valuable time and gotten L killed. By firing the OBS (Orbital Manoeuvring System) we were able to launch successfully, but all of us were devastated at W's death.

It's been weeks, and we've just gotten word that W is actually alive, and has been living in the HAB and growing potatoes to survive. We're all thrilled, but L feels horrible for leaving him behind. It's not her fault. I was the one who convinced her to stop looking for W's body. I keep wondering if there's something I could have done to save him, some way I could have helped the search, but I know we needed to leave. I couldn't jeopardise the mission and all of our safety for one person who i thought was dead. I just... feel terrible about it, knowing W is down there, and I was the first to write him off as dead.

The others are trying to convince me i didn't do anything wrong, but I'm really not sure. Did I do the right thing? AITA?

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

The Pull

It is essential that, when dealing with Danny, you remember Gravity is an incidental, not a constant. His effect isn't measurable because his pull only affects what he manipulates directly.

See, gravity loves Danny, lifting him up in its arms and pulling whatever he wants down into his orbit. It gathers him close to lift whatever it needs to move or spreads him thin to pass through walls. It creates dips where light collects in his hair and gloves till they shine like stars or runs away to leave an inky void in the black of his suit. There is a sense of depth in his pupils as if you might fall in and never break free if you ever got too close, a dateline across his cornea you can’t see past. Sometimes he becomes so thin that light forgets him entirely.

Danny’s effect isn't limited to himself; he can pull you into his orbit; let you in on his altered laws of physics. This is, of course, immensely useful. The problem is that most people are not meant for the kind of pressure he creates, and the only way to avoid the damage caused by instant depressurization is for him to lend some ectoplasm. Over time this can lead to some... Consequences. People become a little dead if they use his powers too many times. Usually, the effects are minor; a new eye flash or teeth that are just a bit too sharp. In severe cases, direct exposure can lead to illnesses like ecto-acne or the starts or a core. Within Amnety, these effects are essentially nonissues since everyone already has such high levels of contamination. Still, he tries to minimize his use of these powers on humans.

Concrete objects are the easiest to manipulate; bats and lead piping answer his pull much easier than air or water. He has learned, however, that the gravitational manipulation of gases can be, well, interesting. By reducing the temperature and increasing the pressure, he can create some truly exception bombs, either by releasing control and allowing the air to explode outward or by continuing the increase, leading to explosive decompression of the surrounding air.

[novelistdaviswrit3s]

My Graves Disease Journey 2019 ((Repost))

THIS BLOG HAD TO BE RE-WRITTEN SO FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO MAY HAVE READ IT ONCE BEFORE SOME THINGS/WORDS MAY BE DIFFERENT…I TRULY APOLOGIZE, TAKE THE TIME TO READ MY JOURNEY YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT…THIS SURGERY WAS SO-SO WORTH IT!!! My name is Tysie (Ticy) Cherall and I was diagnosed with Graves Disease also known as Thyroid Eye Disease to some. I was diagnosed with this illness in 2007. I have…

[raymonddouglasmd]

Orbital Decompression Surgery

Our skilled surgeons provide expert orbital decompression to relieve symptoms of Graves' disease and other conditions. Get effective treatment and relief. Contact us today.

For more information, Visit: https://raymonddouglasmd.com/services/orbital-decompression

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA pilots use specialty suits to validate data

Welcome to NASA's Plankton, Aerosol, Cloud, ocean Ecosystem Postlaunch Airborne eXperiment (PACE-PAX). We've been talking about this validation campaign and now are finally here. "Here" being one of three main locations where PACE-PAX validation efforts are taking place: NASA's Armstrong Research Center at Edwards Air Force Base, California.

PACE-PAX uses the unique vantage point of the ER-2 aircraft to gather data on small particles in the atmosphere and ultimately help verify the data gathered by the satellite in orbit.

NASA's ER-2 aircraft flies high in the sky—approximately 70,000 feet in altitude, where the pilot can see the curvature of Earth. At that high an altitude, pilots must be equipped with a uniform closer to that of an astronaut rather than a flight suit. In fact, while flying the ER-2, the pilot sports a pressurized suit that is essentially a spacesuit.

"The spacesuit is the last line of defense against the elements at altitude," said Kirt Stallings, an ER-2 research pilot. "If the aircraft cabin lost pressurization the spacesuit would automatically inflate protecting the pilot from the elements and allowing them to safely recover the aircraft."

Each pilot has their own spacesuit, which is tailored and fitted specifically to them. Stallings has been a pilot for 36 years, 22 of which have been dedicated to the ER-2 aircraft. Beneath his green and yellow suit is a mesh of netting and tubing designed to keep him safe and cool while in flight.

The suit is bulky and heavy, which means that Stallings requires a team of two other people to help him dress; on this flight Mark Dowling and Andrew Reynoso, life support technicians, are on the job.

The process is rigorous and important. Dowling and Reynoso suit him up, starting with the full body suit, pulling it taught over his legs before lifting the metal ring set to hold the helmet over his head. They tighten straps, zip up boots, fasten gloves, and attach the helmet.

"Wearing the suit is a bit like being in your own world," Stallings said. "It's very quiet except for the sound of the cooling air and your breathing. Once I'm suited up it's fairly peaceful."

While it might seem like Stallings is ready to go, there are still several check points the team reviews. The life support technicians first run cooled oxygen through a hose attached to the suit—it can get hot quickly inside the suit, and they want to make sure the pilot is comfortable. They then run a series of checks, communicating with Stallings through a microphone in his soundproof helmet.

One of the main steps involves pumping the suit full of air—pressurizing it—to check the seals. Once the checks are complete, Stallings sits in a lounge chair, breathing in pure oxygen, to get rid of all the nitrogen from in his blood. This helps minimize the chance of decompression sickness—which happens when someone experiences large changes in pressure.

This is all taking place nearly an hour before takeoff. Stallings waits in a van until just before takeoff, where he's then helped into the aircraft by technicians, strapped in, and prepares to take flight.

He'll spend the next several hours on his own following a precise route of flight to ensure the scientific objectives for the mission are met. Timing is critical for PACE-PAX missions as the aircraft must be perfectly aligned with the satellite passing overhead.

"The opportunity to fly the ER-2 is certainly something I don't take for granted," Stallings said. "The view is something very special. It's humbling and never gets old."

[hypnotisedfireflies]

(I feel like I have to tell you that though I haven’t been able to keep up with reading the last few weeks I totally think about you and sending good vibes that your magic fingers never stop typing!!)

I have a thought, and I want your thoughts. Tess doesn’t strike me as a self-harming/cutting person. She’s too much about self-preservation. Nor do the Miller’s. Ellie, however, does. In the dorms, especially when Riley left, I would picture someone like Ellie would punish herself in that way. And in Jackson, angry with Joel and feeling like she should have been allowed to martyr herself, I imagine she did it too. Do you think your universe Ellie is like this? Where does she direct her anger and self-loathing? I have gravitated so much into the Tess/Joel orbit that I haven’t delved deep into Ellie’s character. It’s that main character paradox that I have.

(I could be mistaken about your universe Ellie but I wanted to ask! I love how you are able to incorporate the selfish, the nuance, the unreliable narrator. All the things!)

Oh and this is it’s own ask but I want to know about that kid that Joel found in the woods in the alt. storyline that they returned to the cabin. Unless it’s unbelievably tragic in that case … spare me lol gif is included for funsies.

You're all good, lovely! Totally understand - you have a very busy life and the stories will always be there when you have time and space to read them. <3

That's a really interesting take about Ellie! I haven't really considered it before (Tessjoel brainrot, I hear you..) so I'm thinking on the fly a bit here.

I guess *thinking, thinking* ... sure, it's absolutely plausible. Ellie is toting a lot of unprocessed guilt and trauma around. She definitely didn't have anyone in the dorms to confide in. But later in Jackson she does, and I would like to think that Ellie has lots of opportunities to talk to different people and avoid self-harm.

I've mentioned in a few of my stories that Jackson is very aware of the mental health of its citizens. They have support groups for different demographics throughout any given week, they go around and make house calls when the weather is bad and anniversaries are coming around. They've lost a lot of people who don't know how to cope once they "stop" in Jackson and are hyper aware of looking after each other: mind, body and soul.

Tess and Joel don't go to any of the support groups (Tommy does) and Ellie, to Tess's chagrin, follows their lead and doesn't either. But she gradually builds her own friendships of other people in the township, like Cat and Jesse and Dina. She might not be absolutely open with them, but she can talk to them.

So while I can appreciate the concept that Ellie might be given to behaviours like self-harming, I don't think she does this in Driftersverse. She's keeping busy trying to find a new way to make her life count (which is an up and down struggle, eg You Only Live Twice).

I think she directs her anger into building and maintaining Jackson. She felt like she had something to offer the world and that was taken from her, so she works really hard to try and make up for it. Harder than basically anyone in Jackson. Her guilt for being unable to 'share' her immunity feeds into finding other ways to protect the township. And then later, it all gets poured into Joel...

I hope that answers the question? There is so much to unpack with Ellie in this period. She's growing up, she's adjusting to a new life and starting to decompress her old and suspecting Joel and then grappling with what he did and her sexuality and her place in the world - SO MUCH. I hope I can do her justice when I write more of her in this time.

Thank you for asking! BUT WHO IS THE CHILD IN THE WOODS? What is this from?

[sevengummisharks]

🌻

Fun fact: The emergency return time from the moon is shorter than the emergency return time from 1000ft/304m saturation diving!

An emergency return from lunar orbit is approx 4 days. But to safely surface from a saturation dive of that depth you need to undergo safe decompression for 11 days or very very bad things happen to practically all your tissues. (I can talk about the bends too if you want!)

The rule of thumb (actual dive plans don't use rules of thumb, but it's a good rough estimate for our purposes) for deep saturation diving is 24 hours deco per 100ft plus 24 hours safety margin, so a 1000ft dive would mean you need 11 days of decompression! and deepest dive recorded was 1752ft, so that's not even as bad as it gets!

The problem with this is that it's not safe for you to leave the hyperbaric chamber or for anyone to enter (rapid compression is ALSO bad) so if you have a medical emergency or something that necessitates an emergency surfacing no one can help you.

Deep sea operations are absolutely fascinating! the logistics of decompression are so difficult that deep sea operations are done at ambient pressure so that there's no decompression at the start and end of shift, only one really long one at the end of a work rotation. It's a bit like working on a space station but with the pressure going in the opposite direction.