#Powerful PMS Systems

[frontdeskmaster]

Powerful Cloud-Based PMS Systems

The greatest cloud-based property management solution is FrontDesk Master. It can help hoteliers streamline operations, effectively manage reservations, and keep tabs on finances.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[freyrenergyservice]

Maximize Your Savings with a 3kW Solar Power System: Price, Subsidy, and Benefits in India

Are you ready to transform your energy consumption and maximize your savings? A 3kW solar power system could be the ideal solution for your home. In this guide, we'll dive into the price, subsidies, and benefits of installing a 3kW solar power system in India.

Price of a 3kW Solar Power System:

The cost of a 3kW solar power system in India ranges between ₹2.30 lakh to ₹2.50 lakh. This price includes the solar panels, inverter, mounting structures, wiring, and installation. The investment might seem substantial, but the long-term savings on your electricity bills will make it worthwhile.

Government Subsidy of 3kw Solar Panel System:

One of the major perks of installing a 3kW solar power system is the government subsidy under the PM Surya Ghar Muft Bijli Yojana Scheme. You can receive a subsidy of up to ₹78,000, which significantly reduces the initial cost. This financial support makes solar power more accessible and affordable for households across India.

Specifications of a 3kW Solar Power System:

A typical 3kW solar power system includes:

Solar Panels: 9-12 high-efficiency panels.

Inverter: A reliable inverter to convert DC to AC.

Mounting Structures: Sturdy, corrosion-resistant supports.

Wiring and Accessories: High-quality cables and connectors.

This system is capable of generating approximately 12-15 units of electricity per day, depending on the location and sunlight availability.

Benefits of a 3kW Solar Power System:

Cost Savings: Substantial reduction in electricity bills, with the system paying for itself over time through savings.

Environmental Impact: Solar energy is a renewable and clean power source, helping you reduce your carbon footprint and fight climate change.

Energy Independence: Minimize your dependency on grid electricity and protect yourself from rising energy costs.

Increased Property Value: Homes with solar energy systems often have a higher property value.

Low Maintenance: Solar power systems require minimal maintenance, providing long-term benefits with little hassle.

Conclusion:

Investing in a 3kW solar power system is a strategic move towards a sustainable and cost-effective energy solution. The combination of reduced electricity bills, government subsidies, and environmental benefits makes it a compelling choice. Take the first step towards energy independence and significant savings by contacting a trusted solar provider today. Maximize your savings with a 3kW solar panel system and embrace the future of energy.

[evilwickedme]

It's so clear to me that so many so called "anti Zionists" - especially the non Palestinian goyim - have no idea how the Israeli election system works, and how bibi remains in power, and why we had five elections in like, three years, despite elections supposedly being every four years - because he couldn't keep a government stable enough to stay in power. Bibi netanyahu is MASSIVELY unpopular, and his approval rate has tanked even more since the war started, even among likud voters, the people who vote for HIS party (although their approval rates ranked less than the rest of the population). He has an extreme right wing government because if he didn't cooperate with right wing extremists and haredim he straight up wouldn't have the majority he needs to be our prime minister in the first place. He's been on trial for corruption for years at this point, and tried to completely restructure the judicial system just to avoid prison - leading to nearly a full year of protests until Oct 7. Luckily it didn't end up passing.

If elections were held at any point in the last five months since this war started, not only would he not be PM, we'd straight up have a center-left government. My recent transformation into a Yair Golan stan account is a joke but also 100% real - according to polls from the last three months or so, if he does what he's campaigning to do, leading a combined avoda and meretz party, he'd get enough votes to have an actual influential left wing party in the government for the first time in decades. An unbelievable amount of Israelis are calling for bibi to resign, many of them not calling for it to happen after the war ends, but right now.

I am sourcing this information from polls conducted by channels 11 (kan), 12, and 13, as well as by the Israeli democracy foundation, all but one of our important news channels - channel 14, the last channel, is our equivalent of fox news, and despite their numbers often being extremely different due to what is in my opinion biased reporting and flawed methodology, even they at times have had to admit that gantz is currently leading in the polls.

(Disclaimer that I work for a company that provides subtitles for channel 13, but i do not directly work for channel 13. Channel 13 leans mostly center left, and employs several (self identified) Arab Israelis in front of the camera, including Lucy Aharish, who makes considerable effort to bring Palestinian and Bedouin perspectives to her show. It also employs at least one massive racist though.)

I write this post because I keep seeing an unsourced claim by goyim that there's a poll showing a high rate of approval - 88%! - of the destruction and/or deaths Israel and the IDF are causing in Gaza. I went down a rabbit hole and simply couldn't find a poll asking about approval of deaths or destruction, although maybe I was looking up the wrong keywords? As a result I have just... So many questions. Because with the information I have from trustworthy local news sources, from the news channels I mentioned above and papers such as yediot aharonot/ynet and Haaretz, it doesn't fit with current public opinion, including many recent protests for more efforts towards a ceasefire. So my questions are thus -

Who conducted this poll? Was it a think tank, a government agency, a paper, a news channel? If so, which one? Are they left leaning, right leaning? Was it conducted by an Israeli or foreign institution?

Who did they ask? Was it a sample of likud voters; all Israeli adults; did they include only Jewish Israelis or also Arab citizens (approx. 1.5 million out of our 8 million population), Bedouins, and other minorities?

When was the poll conducted? Was it in October, immediately after the Oct 7 massacre, before the death toll in Gaza grew? Was it conducted more recently?

What, exactly, did they ask? Did they ask about destruction in general, or about the death toll in particular? Did they ask about the attempts to rescue hostages with military means, or all military actions? Did they ask about the number of Hamas operatives dead, about their estimated ratio of Hamas to civilians, about the total deaths?

What was the size of the pool surveyed? Was it conducted on a few dozen, a few hundred, or a few thousand people?

Because without this information, that one, sole statistic is essentially useless. As Mark Twain said, there are lies, damned lies, and statistics. Always look at the source and ask: who asked the questions, who got asked, and what the questions were.

More specific statistics and sources under the cut.

I did find one survey by the Israel democracy foundation that asked if the IDF should take the Gazan suffering into account - an entirely different question, although it did still have a horrific 89% Jewish Israelis and 14% Arab Israelis and Palestinian citizens who said they shouldn't. That said, the pool they were drawing from was not very large - 500 of the interviews were conducted in Hebrew, 100 were conducted in Arabic. Also, of the people who supposedly said that they shouldn't, a little more than half of both populations said they should "somewhat" take it into account - that is, they didn't say they shouldn't take it into account at all, just not make it their first priority. This survey was conducted mid December.

In another survey by the same source with a slight larger sample size (a little over 600 Jewish Israelis and a little over 150 Arab Israelis), an insanely low 15% still wanted Bibi to be the PM, with the only candidate who received more than 6.5% being the center candidate Benny Gantz, who historically has tried to cooperate with center and left parties, with a whopping 23% of the votes. The survey included 10 candidates, as well as five other non candidate options. 4% voted "just not Bibi", and an actually insane 30.5% voted they were undecided. Only a quarter of those surveyed believed Bibi would manage to maintain a coalition after the war, a number that includes more extreme right wing voters, and only the ultra Orthodox haredi population had a majority of people (60%) who believed he can. This survey was conducted in January.

The channel 13 news survey from early March - barely over a week ago! - covered more specifically which parties would manage to get into the government and how many seats they would get, as under a certain amount of votes you simply do not get seats. Not all seats get into a coalition. According to their poll, the amount of seats the likud would get is halved, from 32 to 17, while gantz's the state camp would grow from 12 to 39. While currently meretz gets 4 seats and haavodah do not get enough votes to get a seat at the table so to speak, a combined haavodah and meretz under Yair Golan gets 9 mandates. In total, the right wing only get 47 mandates, well short of the amount of mandates necessary to create a government.

Channel 12's corresponding poll from January shows 35 mandates for gantz, and bibi had 18 mandates. Channel 11, in the same month, gave gantz 33 mandates and bibi 20.

I also sources an English Jerusalem post article which reports on channel 14's polls; jpost is a right wing biased paper, and yet even they report 36 mandates for gantz and 18 for bibi as of February.

Sources

The Israel democracy institute: 1 (English), 2 (Hebrew), 3 (Hebrew)

Haaretz: 1 (English) (paywalled)

Channel 13: 1 (Hebrew)

Ma'ariv: 1 (Hebrew) (reporting on channel 12)

Podcast which summarizes the above article: 1 (English) (includes transcript)

Kan 11: 1 (Hebrew)

Jpost: 1 (Hebrew)

[i-am-aprl]

“Former Malaysian PM calls for end to UN veto rights” and we couldn’t agree more. For UN Security Council ‘veto power’ has been abused to push forward one agenda and one agenda only. If you want a fair and proper functional system reform UNSC.

[poonamranius]

Solar Rooftop Yojana : 25 साल तक फ्री मिलेगी बिजली, जल्द उठाएं सोलर रूफटॉप योजना का लाभ

Solar Rooftop Yojana : 25 साल तक फ्री मिलेगी बिजली, जल्द उठाएं सोलर रूफटॉप योजना का लाभ

Solar Rooftop Yojana : आज कल मध्यम वर्ग के लोगों के घरों में AC, फ्रिज, कूलर, गीजर,पंखा आदि कई उपकरण लगे होते हैं जिसके इस्तेमाल से लोगों के बिजली बिल का खर्चा काफी ज्यादा आता है। इन बढ़ते बिजली बिल के खर्चे को कम करने के लिए अपने घरों पर सोलर रूफटॉप योजना (Solar Rooftop Yojana) का उपयोग कर सकते हैं। इस योजना के चलते सब्सिडी का भी लाभ मिलेगा। आज इस लेख में सोलर रूफटॉप योजना (Solar Rooftop…

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

After Wes did his part, it's Adrien's turn now

*knock knock*

"Come in! I don't usually have a visitor at 8.30 PM at summertime, to whom do I owe such pleasure? Oh....Adrien, son, why are you still in the office? Everyone usually left around 6 or 7 PM, except Cathy obviously, she's such a reliable assistant for me. Oh crap, enough with the rambling, what's up, son?" the DILF said cheerfully, unaware of Adrien's malicious intention

"Oh, the pleasure's mine, sir *close the door*. Especially when I will explore that tight hunky body of yours using that beautiful rugged hands and feeling all the raw authoritative strength coursing all over my system," Adrien said grinning as he takes a swig of his vial that he dropped to the floor with almost half of its content still left inside it. He found himself delighted with the mint-like yet more intense sensation from the potion as he tried to make his move

Taken aback with his own employee seemingly in lust with him so openly, he tried to speak a few words to get some sense back to Adrien. After all, this is the star recruit from a local Catholic college, why is he openly admitting to his homosexual desire knowing full well that his own boss is very much a devoted followers of Christ? But, the moment Adrien sprinted like his sole life goal literally placed right in front of his lanky 28 years old self, Mr. Wilson knows that shit will go south quickly, so he readied himself for an impact as he closed his eyes and raised his arm before realizing that 80% of Adrien's body already absorbed into him. Now faced with Adrien's face literally super close with his face, Mr. Wilson realized how fucked his situation at this very moment as Adrien's form seemingly turned slimy and his eyes clearly a little bit wrong

"We're going to be so close, I'm practically going to puppet your body to do whatever I desired," Adrien said with a maniacal grin that Mr. Wilson wouldn't expect coming from the usually-reserved new joiner

Adrien then lunged for a deadly kiss that will seal their fate and despite Mr. Wilson effort to move his arm to stop Adrien and turn his head away, rest of Adrien solid-slimy form still not absorbed by Mr. Wilson's body simply splashed on the surface of the DILF's face and upper part of the suit. The "slime" then moved to enter all possible orifices, be it Mr. Wilson's mouth, nostrils or ears, all entries are utilized and stuffed to the brim by the leftover slime. Mr. Wilson's body then convulsed like a fish taken out of the ocean in his seat, battling for its life as the invader inched closer than ever to take full control. His erratic movement and the spreading sensation of the invasion drawn him to unbutton his shirt and tried to do anything to stop the sensation from taking hold over his entire body. Yet, when the cold, slimy feeling managed to gain access to the veins in his cock and simultaneously reached the back of his head, he knows that he's fucked beyond repair. Eventually, Adrien's invasion overwhelmed the 51 years old muscle tank, which then roared in delight as he finally take a deep, crisp breath of the air-conditioned, sandalwood-scented executive suite from the lung of the one and only Robert Wilson. He chuckled in delight as his control become stronger with every second passed with him inside his DILF of a boss body. The body actually started to feel less and less foreign and it's like as if he's always in control of this 5'7" fit ball of muscle within minutes, so in an abuse of his boss muscle memory, Adrien slid the calloused hand Robert Wilson used to shake hands with high-powered executives and bureaucrats into the exposed muscular chest now under his control.

It instantly electrifies him as Robert's memory revealed a very sensitive nipple that always sent the law firm partner to his knees during all his sexual escapades. Adrien experienced the same knee-buckling sensation as he can sense the growing erection confined by the denim. Add to the fact that Adrien just practically aroused the 51 years old by slipping inside of him, creamy white spunk painting his underwear and the rest of his clothing is simply inevitable. Not even a minute after teasing the perky pink nipples of his own boss, Adrien shot the biggest load out of Mr. Wilson's dick as if he's been blue-balling himself for weeks! Adrien simply chuckled to the mess he created,

"Sloppy guy, don't you? Fuck I don't expect you to be this easy, sir," he said as he savored the taste of now-his cum from his finger, the taste and the deep chuckling just sent his flaccid cock into yet another semi

"Hahahahahah, I can do this shit all night long," he said as he grinned mischievously while ensuring that he cleaned all his fingers

Looking at his disheveled reflection, Adrien decided to at least clean himself up before meeting his boyfriend. Besides, he's been dying to see the inside of the executive bathroom inside Mr. Wilson's office, so he strut himself to the secluded bathroom in his soiled clothing, the shit-eating grin plastered on his face as his eyes caught the plaque of the law firm, Wilson, Thorpe, van Beecker, the idea of walking around the law firm he now basically own and demanding attention from everyone as they all practically worked for him now really drive him close to the edge. But, he calmed himself down and managed to get into the bathroom without another spunk spoiling his pants.

Inside the shower, more memories of Mr. Wilson unlocked for him. A dinner plan with his son tonight, yeah, just gonna call that sport after this whole shower to cancel it, and mostly memories about works from the past few months. The sensation feels calming and right, that all of this feels deeply personal yet very much rightfully his. It's like climbing a mountain, there's more sight and area that his eyes can see from a much higher vantage point the longer he climbed, or in this case, the longer he stayed inside this body. He can direct his focus to a certain memories even from the distant past now, like his wedding day, the day his only son was born, the moment he tearfully admitted to his wife that he fell out of love with her and reconnected with his old homosexual desire, everything becomes more and more accessible which certainly can help him to play the part of Robert Wilson through and through. He did all that with his eyes closed, head backed to the wall without realizing that his hand wandered all over his body, feeling all the muscle and the ridges of his weathered, strong physique and letting out momentary delighted moan and groan with each touches and more memories revealed. When the memories showcased the first memory of Mr. Wilson, the merging eventually completed as he no longer viewed Mr. Wilson as a separate entity and seeing his memories from third-person point of view, he's seeing and experiencing it from Mr. Wilson's perspective. As that moment happened, the climax hit Adrien very hard as 53 years of Mr. Wilson's life finally fused very beautifully with his own set of memories, making all the pain, sorrow, joy, lust, euphoria and all sort of sensation that Mr. Wilson went through crashed into his system and knocked himself off as volleys of cum wildly unloaded from the hard 9 incher monster that's been on the edge for the past couple of minutes

Adrien found himself splayed on the bathroom floor, losing track of times and his body sticky from all the mess he sprayed. But he just simply chuckled as he found himself finally fully at home inside this studly DILF body he can comfortably called his now. He just quickly wiped off the excess, drying cum from his body with the shower still running and finished his shower in no time as he cannot let his boyfriend waited any longer

As he walked back to his office, he found it weird that the door is opened and he can clearly listen someone humming from inside. And that's the voice of his son, Carl! Shit, he thought frantically, thinking of any excuse to explain why he's showering in the office and skipping dinner with his son without informing him. As he tried to keep his cool and walked into the office suite, his son suddenly greeted him first with no shirts on whatsoever

"Hello, dad. Or should I say, Adrien,"

That's when Mr. Wilson's eyes darted to the now-empty vial sitting in his desk. Who is this person and how the fuck he's in control of Carl's body????

[jymwahuwu]

-cw: yandere, non-con, forced overstimulation, harassment, breaking into your home

The actual record of dating General Jing Yuan:

(everything below is automatically recorded by the system set up by the general)

4:00 am Jing Yuan pointed out that you will have a date today.

4:00 am You are woken up by the sound of a message.

4:01 am You frowned, checked the message, and replied "wtf it's bedtime".

4:05 am You fell asleep again.

9:45 am Had breakfast.

10:00 am The electronic door lock automatically opened. Jing Yuan stepped in with a "^_^" expression.

10:01 am You: “Can you stop breaking into my house all the time?”

10:02 am Showed you that message. You are speechless.

11:00 am The romantic date begins!!

11:15 am Visited the Space Animal Sanctuary and watched the adorable and special animals together.

11:20 am the baby bird trembled and walked towards Jing Yuan and pecked the back of his hand with its beak. You think nothing can be cuter than this.

11:45 am you curiously fed the sheep that could predict the future destiny of life. This animal looks like a sheep.

11:46 am A 💭 floated out of the sheep’s head:

Love Trend: Dating the one who likes you will guarantee your eternal relationship.

11:47 am You are shocked. Jing Yuan chuckled and stroked the sheep's head.

12:15 pm Jing Yuan purchased two commemorative keychains. He said the two keychains commemorated the romantic date.

12:16 pm Jing Yuan attached one of the keychains to your backpack/bag, etc.

13:00 pm Had a romantic date in a restaurant with a view of the Milky Way.

14:02 pm Jing Yuan offered to go home and fuck you, using an affectionate tone. Your fingers holding the door were pried open one by one, and you were pulled onto the spaceship.

15:12 pm Back to your apartment!! Jing Yuan kissed you and put you on his arm with one hand, burning off the calories from the meal just now.

15:20 pm You were forced to spread your legs on the sofa, and Jing Yuan buried his head between your legs, or twitched with his fingers, and occasionally said something embarrassing to you. You pushed his hair.

16:05 pm You can’t remember how many times you’ve had an orgasm. Consciousness began to drift away.

17:00 pm Lubricate the cock head with the petals, teasing you on the outside for five minutes before hitting bottom. "Ah…!! ❤"

18:15 pm You start to think about why Jing Yuan’s staying power is so terrible. Is this the secret of long-life species?

19:00 pm You're lying on the bed, panting, tongue sticking out. The fertile semen inside flowed out like a quiet stream.

19:01 pm Jing Yuan resisted the urge to lift your legs and thrust into you again. Look at your lovely face.

19:04 pm Conclusion: Your cuteness transcends the laws of the world.

19:10 pm Kissed you on the cheek, put one of his hands on your breasts, and hugged you to sleep naked.

[akajustmerry]

couldn’t find anything about the murdochs suppressing press freedom would you mind sharing links please

ooooooft okay. i do forget that not everyone is aware of these things. but!! if you wanna know why dominant news media in the global north sucks / wanna be more aware of media influence on politics / wanna appreciate succession more - here is a 'fuck the murdochs' reading list

a recent article on the current court case between Fox News (founded by Rupert Murdoch) and Dominion Voting Systems. Dominion is claiming defamation after Fox News pushed the lie the 2020 election was stolen from Trump, which led to the Jan 6 riots.

Opinion piece by former Aus PM Malcolm Turnball on why he's leading a campaign requesting a Royal Commission into Murdoch's monopoly over Australia's press and Murdoch's unjust influence on Australian politics

here is a podcast breaking down how Lachlan Murdoch (irl Kendall) is suing an independent paper here in Aus for connecting the Jan 6 insurrection to fearmongering of Murdoch press in the States. like, he is literally suing journalists for accurate reporting. that *is* suppressing freedom of the press by definition.

The Murdochs: Empire of Influence (2022). 6 part documentary featuring historians, journalists, ex-employees etc. covers everything there is to know about the family's role in press and politics from world war 1 up to 2022.

Book: Breaking News: Sex, Lies and the Murdoch Succession by veteran anti-Murdoch journalist Paul Barry. The book is from 2013, but is a thoroughly accessible analysis of on the family's rise

Vanity Fair also recently published this hugeeeeee investigation: Inside Rupert Murdoch's Succession Drama

The official Succession podcast is free and discusses the show's influences pretty openly. it doesn't go super in-depth (probably because they don't want to be sued) but it makes mention and discussion of real events and people that influence the show.

just for good measure: here is a list of every news outlet and publisher and media outlet the Murdoch family own across the US, UK, Europe and Asia. handy for when you do your own research, which you should so you're not reading from *their* sources. The whole reason you have trouble finding this kind of information on them is because they suppress it, or make it hard to find.

like... i know a lot of people don't know this, but Succession is a political satire and is about a very specific group of people who are actively shaping the world for the worst so they can become rich and never live with the consequences. the majority of Jesse Armstrong's work is about how internal dynamics between people in powerful institutions literally shape society. if you don't understand that's what Succession is then you're actually missing a huge part of it. so i hope you, and anyone else who needs it, take a gander at these resources because you won't only understand Succession more, but the state of your local politics and media too.

[dromaeocore]

For those of you who like the idea of peer respites, I just want to say these are not the only alternatives to the mainstream psych system :] Here's a big ol' list, and many/most of them are peer-run. I live in America, so a lot of this is US-based, but I've tried to make it as internationally accessible as possible!

I'll start with the live-in options. So ya'll already know about peer respites, if you read my latest post about it. There's a few more similar things out there.

Soteria Houses - More long-term (months+) community homes for folks with lived experience of psychosis/similar extreme states, with peer support, that focus on a humane and person-centered approach. Much more freedom & agency than your traditional group home.

Hurdalsjøen Recovery Center - a "medication-free" (aka medication-optional) psychiatric hospital in Norway. Allows patients to choose whether to stay on or taper/remain off psychiatric drugs. Focused on healthy eating, exercise, and recreational therapy options.

Bethel House - Similar to Soteria Houses, a homelike environment in Japan for people with schizophrenia, etc. that focuses on social reintegration.

Organizations, clubs, groups, etc:

Students With Psychosis - A peer support community with programming for students with psychosis

International Map of Hearing Voices/Intervoice networks - Non=pathological support groups for people who hear voices, see visions, etc. US directory, UK directory.

Clubhouse International - Gives people with mental illness opportunities for friendship, employment, housing, educational, and medical services all in one place. Founded by a group of friends who survived a psychiatric hospital together.

Project LETS - A radical approach to peer support and healing that has a disability justice centered approach, giving people with lived experience a voice and focusing on mutual aid. They provide peer mental health advocates, self-harm prevention, and more.

The Mad Society of Canada: A grassroots community of practice that brings together folks who want to provide non-coercive, ethical, survivor-informed mental health services/policy.

Power to the Plurals: Resources and events for people who identify as plural/multiple/systems.

The Wildflower Alliance: Grassroots peer support, training, and advocacy community based in Massachusetts.

Alternatives To Suicide (Alt2Su): Peer support groups that allow people to talk about suicidal thoughts without fear of being committed to the hospital, etc

Trainings:

Intentional Peer Support = Trauma-informed peer support training

Emotional CPR - Trauma-informed mental health support training program for the layperson

Hearing Voices Curriculum: Targeted towards mental health professionals to better understand the experience of hearing voices. Warning: It's expensive!

Cities that have a particularly awesome way of dealing with folks in crisis/with mental illness/etc:

Geel - a farming community where residents welcome people suffering with severe mental illness/distress into their homes and live with them, share work, etc (Edit: apparently Geel is a small city with like 40,000 people and not a farming community lol, I was misinformed. Thanks to @roxbot for the correction!)

Trieste - a city with a community centered system of care that integrates housing and peer support

Warmlines (generally run by peers) and Crisis Lines that don't call the cops: (Most of these are taken from this post by trans-axolotl on Crisis Lines)

Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860, 24/7

BlackLine: 1 (800) 604-5841, has texting options

The Plural Warmline (No number, check the site)

THRIVE: text message line at 313-662-8209, 24/7

Promise Resource Network: (833) 390-7728, 24/7

Project Return Peer Support Network: (888) 448-9777 English or (888) 448-4055 Spanish, hours are Monday through Friday 2:30 PM to 10:00 PM PST and Saturday and Sunday 10:00 AM to 6:00 PM PST

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line: 888-407-4515, hours are 7pm to 9pm EST Monday through Thursday and 7pm-10pm EST Friday through Sunday

Key Consumer Organization: 800-933-5397, hours are 8am - 4:30pm EST, Monday - Friday.

MBRLC Peer Support Line:  877-733-7563, hours are 4 pm-7:45 pm EST every day. 

US Warmline Directory (unlikely to call cops, but check with the individual line first)

Misc:

CommonGround software - A software developed by Dr. Pat Deegan (an individual who was diagnosed with schizophrenia) that allows clients to communicate their needs to their doctors more efficiently to support shared-decision making with medication.

Open Dialogue- An psychosocial approach to psychiatric services that focuses shared decision-making and dialogue between client, providers, and family (if the client wants family involved), and often more minimal use of medication.

Integrative Psychiatry - A holistic form of psychiatry that focuses on nutrition, exercise, therapy, and psychosocial factors, where medication is just an aspect of treatment. US database of integrative psychiatrists here.

I will also give a somewhat honorable mention to Mobile Crisis Teams. They are a fairly new alternative to the usual "call the cops on your local mentally ill person". They are composed of nurses, therapists, social workers, occasionally peer support workers, etc. They hook the individual up with support/resources - which can often mean forced hospitalization/forced treatment FYI - but it is a step up from being killed by cops. Look up "[city] Mobile Crisis Team" to find out if there is one in your city.

A note: Something being on this list =/= it is perfect, just that it is an alternative to what we've got. So don't come at me, lmao. Feel free to add on if you know of anything else!

[centrally-unplanned]

I find myself interested in how ineffective integration was for Ireland vis a vis the UK in the 19th century. Certainly after 1832 voting reforms and the 1829 repeal of the ban on Catholics serving in parliament (UK-wide but ofc hitting Ireland the hardest), the Irish were at more-or-less equal footing as the English or Scots when it came to voting rights and the legal system (I think most people don't know this! They think the Irish couldn't vote in the 19th century!) And it wasn't even an "on paper" deal for voting rights, Irish were active in government (they even had Irish PMs, though ofc Protestant), by the latter half of the 19th century economic regulations were equalized, and they got within a hair's breadth of Home Rule before some munitinous unionists and WW1 got in the way. Despite the rep a lot of countries have gigantic ethnic minorities, and liberalism/equal franchise is actually pretty decent solution to that problem. Why didn't ~100 years of representation in the House of Commons, in the era when "nation building" was at its peak, not work?

From what I can tell, timing is of course part of it. At a simple level, World War One was such a nationalist godsend; it created the "radicalism cascade", a weakened center and domino revolutions inspiring everyone with a cause with a sort of temporal Schelling Point. Without it, would the 1912 Home Rule have just been implemented in due time, and Ireland would be like Scotland today? At a more structural level, the timing was particularly rough because WW1 was the tail end of the age of religion in Europe. So much of the conflict was over Protestant vs Catholic, and after WW2 if Ireland was united under one home rule government in the UK it's hard to imagine the secularizing age powering so much conflict. Had they "held on" a few more decades you could see it calming down.

I think those are true enough but you do gotta dig down to another level. "Protestant" wasn't really just a religion in Ireland - it was the Protestant Ascendancy, a ruling class of combined English settlers and converted Irish who, during the imperial era before the 19th century, built an entirely separate ruling class in Ireland. And it was a deep ruling class - Catholics were barred from voting in even the Dublin local parliament, they were banned from being judges or lawyers, inheritance law was rigged to privilege Protestant sons while converting away from the Anglican church came with property confiscations. Depending on what counts, at its peak in the 18th century up to 30% of the country had opportunistically converted, in a system rigged top to bottom against the Catholics.

Imagine for a second India was given representation in the House of Commons and given self-rule. Just ignore the distance and demography issues for now, this obviously wouldn't actually work, instead think about what that transition would look like. The British "Indian Civil Service" would have to be dismantled...which was like 10k brits vs over 100k Indians. Actual british military officers in the country in the 19th century was less than 100k - and it was a rotating duty, they didn't all live there. Dismantling that really isn't that hard! Those people just go home. The core that ruled was deeply integrated into the country, but it was tiny - the vast majority of India was ruled by Indians, in the name of the Crown. They would just...keep going but now be in parliament.

That was impossible in Ireland. Britain had actually launched one of the most intensive cultural conversion programs of a foreign nation around in the 17th and 18th centuries, it was nowhere close to the "light imperial touch" of elsewhere. But it never...worked. Instead it just built this gigantic ruling class, deeply enmeshed in both Ireland and England, completely dependent on that superiority economically, but seen as outsiders by the Catholic Irish majority. "Protestant & Catholic" is at least half a gigantic class war. And in the 19th century the UK brought "laissez faire liberalism" to Ireland and was like "look, we are equal now!" after two+ centuries of rigging the system. It was literally the "kicking out the ladder after climbing up" equality meme.

This was why Home Rule was so bitterly contested, why Protestant Anglo-Irish officers threatened to mutiny in 1912 if it was implemented. They understood that the first acts of Home Rule were going to be, essentially, reparations. Which the Irish almost surely deserved. But Imperial, Liberal, 19th Century UK was not going to give reparations to the fucking Irish, it was not ready to dismantle its dejure and defacto aristocrats in that way - or at least not until it was too late, some land reform for example did begin in 1903. Scotland didn't need it, Wales was too weak to fight it, but Ireland was in the sweet spot of being weak enough to be oppressed but strong enough to oppose it and fight back once the culture changed.

Or at least that is my current read, this is a low-confidence post. Curious to learn more!

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hello Limbus Gamers

Why did I title this post that.

Anyway, yeah, it's that time again. I'm gonna analyze the RR4 trailer. Some of you may be asking why, but. You'll see.

Oh boy you'll see.

Starting off, we get a very brief animation of the nodes of the new Railway. And by brief, I do mean, this shit speeds past you like instantly.

They even make sure to not show the whole thing all at once to make it harder to count. I did count though. There are thirteen of these nodes in this animation. This might be subject to change, but we shall see.

Then we get the title card. We're back to single word Railway names from before RR3, and in the background we get to see some silhouettes. We're gonna learn what they are during the trailer itself, but you can already tell they're the abnos from the Battle Pass E.G.O - Dreaming Electric Sheep, The King in Binds, and Portrait of a Certain Day.

We also see silhouettes of some Sinners, and while it's hard to make out with the text in the way, I'm pretty sure there's N Corp Don, N Corp Faust, and BL Yi Sang in there.

Now THIS is interesting - a new Railway gimmick! Not just one gimmick though, but after throwing the screenshot into Google Translate, it turns out we might be dealing with two!

First, the one that doesn't need translating to figure out - the Backup gimmick. I believe it's shown a bit clearer in the next scene, so I won't be speculating on it too much yet, but from my guess it's a replacement for a similar mechanic in RR3, where you could throw another team of Sinners at an Abnormality after your initial team of 6 died to finish the Abno off from where you left it at.

That's not the most interesting part though, this is.

Our Sinners are also going to be recieving individual buffs in this Railway, potentially based on selection order, considering PM has been pushing more and more for the selection order to matter with the recent addition to the E.G.O Gifts.

If I'm correct and the buffs are based on selection order instead of being completely random, we can see the buffs are as follows:

Selection 1 - Identity Level +2

Selection 2 - SP Gain Efficiency +3

Selection 3 - too blurry for google to translate

Selection 4 - Defense Level +2

Selection 5 - Max Speed +2 (the 5 came from the semi-transparent level 45 number lmao)

Selection 6 - too blurry for google to translate

Selection 7 - Final Power +1

Selection 8 - Damage taken -10%

Selection 9 - this one i'm not too sure on but it might be Aggro +5 (the 45 came from the semi-transparent level 45 number lmao)

Selection 10 - scene cuts away too quickly to read it

In addition to that, some IDs (primarily the Backup selections but also for some reason Faust) get a head start of +10 SP when they join the fight, which is a very nice way to help off-set the issue of having to gain sanity in harder fights to even attempt winning clashes.

Next scene shows us what seems to be the Backup mechanic. It's an admittedly very brief shot that barely shows us anything of how it works, but considering everyone's low sanity and Ishmael's stagger, I'm guessing what happened is two units died and the backup units were put in there in their stead.

An interesting gimmick that honestly feels more lore-accurate than the current system LMAO.

Next up, we get our excerpts from the new Abno Logs. This one, based on the background, is for Portrait of a Certain Day. It's a bit hard to tell who wrote this Log based on the English translation, but it does give an interesting insight onto the Abnormality and by extention its E.G.O, Bygone Days.

Something about taking advantage of deaths through parading mementos of the dead in connection to Yi Sang and Gregor, huh... Gregor is the one who gave Aya's mask to Yuri as a memento, and then proceeded to keep that mask as a memento of Yuri. On the other hand, while Yi Sang personally didn't keep mementos of the League around, both Dongbaek and Dongrang had a strong emotional attachment to the last remaining picture of the League all together. There's something there I think.

Then we get to see the excerpt from Dreaming Electric Sheep's Abno Log. Again, not very clear who's writing this from the English translation. And this is a very interesting excerpt too! This is the clearest connection we get between the Abno and the 'Dreaming' part of its name! I feel like I'd need to see the whole Log to get a better idea of what is being conveyed here, but it is good to see we're getting to see some new angles on the Abno.

BIG SHEEP! It's notable that it's attacking Faust.

And there's Portrait, in all its low bitrate glory! Note that it's attacking Yi Sang.

What follows is two more shots, one of each of the Abnos, and then...

It might hard to see in that glorious 240p low bitrate, but yes. That is, in fact, N Corp Don and N Corp Faust, covered in a purple glow, attacking the Sinners.

And then, the bombshell.

Guys.

Guys.

These are Envy Peccatula.

Envy Peccatula are doppelgangers.

DO YOU REALIZE HOW HUGE THIS IS FOR SIN ANALYSIS??? Envy is one of those sins we got barely anything on due to its lack of Peccatula, and yet here we are, RR4 gave us a fucking blessing.

Anyway, back to talking about the actual fights themselves, I believe we're going to be dealing with faction-themed Envy Peccatula stages. The one we see in the trailer is N Corp, complete with a relevant background, and in the in the title card we can see Blade Lineage Yi Sang, implying we could get a BL-themed node as well. Notably, these are both factions that have enough IDs to form a full team.

The only other full team ID factions we have are W Corp and Liu Association, so these are also contenders for Envy Peccatula nodes. Seven Association is also possible, as they are only missing one ID from being a full six ID team. We could also potentially get a fraud Pequod Trio that's made up of the Pequod IDs, which would be really funny, but I'm not sure how likely that is.

Back to the trailer itself.

We finally get the Abno Log excerpt for The King in Binds, and it's very evocative in my opinion. The poetic language makes me think that Yi Sang is the one writing this Log.

This seems like an excerpt that's being used to describe a game mechanic - The King in Binds might have a mechanic where he tears himself free from his throne if certain conditions are met. Very interesting considering what we know about the abno.

What follows is some extremely quick and hard to see snippits of The King in Binds attacking Yi Sang. Yes, this is the best frame I could get from it.

Aaaand that's about it!

All in all, extremely excited about the potential Envy lore and fighting against out own units, and I guess the abnos are there too.

[seikkoi]

ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader

Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.

content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering word count: 2.6k a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it

Shitshitshit!

You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. That’s what an amateur would do, but you’re an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly. 

You’d fallen asleep at your desk–a natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.

The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic cultures–gone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week. 

You were so fucking fired.

The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasn’t room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You weren’t any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume. 

The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. You’re nauseous with guilt, but you can’t imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.

No, you’d accept your fate now.

If you were lucky, you’d only have to talk to one of them. 

You don’t have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval. 

Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job. 

You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices. 

All you could do was hope they weren’t too harsh.

Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately. 

“I suppose you think we should just give it away.” one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.

“No,��� the other sighs, “but our shareholders will never agree to this price point.”

“The shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.”

“You’re right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.”

“We haven’t done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.”

You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening lines–promises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation. 

At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head. 

“Yes, [y/n]?”

The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body. 

“Firstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.” 

You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. That’s not how it goes, however. 

Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading. 

Strange’s reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.

“Did the incubator make a mistake, or did you?” he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat. 

Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. You’re less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze. 

“I did, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll gather my things and leave.” you whispered, hanging your head in shame. 

Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” he chuckles. “Right, Tony?”

You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct. 

“I don’t think it’s a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.” Tony coos from his chair.

“No, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.” Strange adds.

Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.

“We wouldn’t want that for you, sweetheart.” Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back. 

“I-I don’t understand.” you stammer. 

They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. There’s still separation, but not enough that you can’t sense his body right behind yours.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,” Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony. 

“Everyone makes mistakes, after all.”

Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.

“We’re very understanding, I’m sure we can work something out.” Stephen’s voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.

The glittering look in Stark’s eye is all too familiar, watching Stephen’s hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two men–and suddenly, you understand.

“Wouldn’t want your career to end before it even starts now would we?” Tony taunts. 

Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff. 

Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor. 

“I can’t–we can’t–this isn’t–”

Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. It’s quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste? 

Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldn’t do. That doesn’t mean that kindness is a guarantee. 

“No?” Tony hums. “Well, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.” 

Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures. 

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” you plead. Behind you, Strange’s beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Like I said, I’m sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.” Stephen’s voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.

“W-what if someone finds out–please, just–”

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.” Tony smirks.

Your eyes can never seem to leave Tony’s, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. It’s against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctor’s idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm. 

“I think she wants to keep her job, don’t you, honey?” Stephen chimes in.

You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly weren’t blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this all–crossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student. 

“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to hear you say it.” 

You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strange’s heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job. 

“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The second the words leave you, Stephen’s hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You would’ve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans. 

In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephen’s hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cunt–all while Tony’s eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does. 

That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephen’s hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.

“I think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.” Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.

“Tsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.” he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you weren’t making. 

You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since you’d slept with anyone–leaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss. 

You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you can’t stop the whimper as you stretch around him.

“There it is–feels good doesn’t it? Don’t be shy, honey.” Tony’s voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire. 

You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. It’s far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctor’s fingers. 

“Go ahead, hon’, tell us how much you like it.”

Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, you’re not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tony’s piercing eyes. 

Stephen’s hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldn’t make your head spin as much as it does.

“That wasn’t a request, answer him.” the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.

“It–it’s good, it feels–” you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet. 

“It feels really good, sir.” you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake. 

Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. It’s an easily forgotten feeling–Stephen’s fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephen’s done with you. 

Just as your mind starts to split into two, it’s quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tony’s devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting. 

“Aw, poor thing. Don’t think we’d let you off that easy–you’ll need to earn it.” Stephen whispers.  

As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back. 

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together

genre: I don’t know

pairing: none?

warnings: swearing

context: Sadie volunteered for the 2024 Melbourne GP during a gap year away from uni. She is 20.

comments: i don’t know what this is

Sadie had to force a deep breath through her system. The drivers were not going to like the news she had.

“Alright, listen up!” She called, feeling a bit like she was talking to a random sports club team. “The FIA has finalised the penalties and we have two drivers dropping down.”

There was a chorus of “what?”, “no!” and “fuck me,” in different languages.

“Lance Stroll, you have been given two 5-second penalties for track limits. I’m told that you were only informed about one.” Sadie tried to give him a gentle smile.

It might not have come across that way as she braced herself for the next one.

“Max Verstappen and Pierre Gasly, you were both given a 10-second penalty for overtaking under yellow flag conditions.” A small cry of outrage came from Charles Leclerc. “This was decided during your last lap and was not conveyed to your engineers in time for them to tell you.”

Max Verstappen’s face pulled into a glare of fury, while Pierre buried his face in his hands.

“What do you mean, 10-second penalty?”

Sadie hoped he didn’t explode at her during the next piece of news. She looked down at the iPad in her hands and read the standings.

“Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc were all under ten seconds behind you, so you will now be P4.”

“What?! Are you serious?!” The world champion did explode. “Pierre overtook me and I was just taking it back!”

It had been a long weekend for Sadie. She had never been to an F1 race before, let alone volunteered at one; she knew she would be busy but she hadn’t expected to be thrust into learning the hard way at 7 am. And again at 10. Again at 2. And now again at 5:20 pm.

“I understand that, Max-“ She held up a placating hand, reining in a scathing reply.

“Obviously you don’t if you are giving me a penalty for -“

Sadie cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Who do you think I am, Verstappen? Huh?”

He stopped leaning towards her, something he hadn’t noticed himself doing.

She took advantage of his hesitation. “I am a volunteer. What power do you think I have to change this for you?” she spat.

A scowl appeared on his face as he began to lean in again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Lewis start forward. She put a hand out to stop him.

“I know who I am talking to. You are a three time world champion who will survive coming P4, just this once. You are Max Verstappen the reigning Champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child! Get your shit together!”

He stopped at that. All of the drivers did. Several looked ready to jump forward and restrain him, Lewis included.

Sadie saw the anger leave his eyes and said to everyone, “if you’re all sick of the FIA imposing these penalties just before interviews, maybe you should all say something. Together, as the drivers.”

It was Carlos who shrugged. “If something happens in the final laps, it is fair for it to reach us after the race.”

“Yea,” Lewis agreed. “But not half an hour after the checkered flag.”

All the drivers conceded that.

“I’m going to read out your standings and you’re going to stand in that spot. Do not“ -Sadie glared at Max- “complain to me, I cannot help you.”

And read them out she did. Charles had won, Oscar had come a close second and Lando an even closer third.

Max silently simmered in his P4 position and Daniel Riccardo smiled at Sadie from P5. Lewis, in P6, held a fist out for a fist bump.

The rest of the grid lined up in their order. They went out one by one and did their interviews.

Sadie sighed once they were all gone. At least, she’d thought they were all gone. Carlos Sainz, who had crashed out in lap 4, hadn’t gone out for his interviews yet.

“I don’t know if that was brave or stupid.”

Sadie jumped and shook her head. “I don’t know either and to be honest, I’m too tired to care. He was angry, I understand that, but my patience has been worn very thin.”

Carlos hummed thoughtfully as he left with a soft wave.

Sadie pulled in a deep breath. Her last job for the day was done. She’d be back in the morning to help pack down the equipment.

She needed some time to contemplate how she’d just yelled at Max fucking Verstappen.

——$——

If you want to see more of Sadie interacting with the grid, let me know! - Belle

Masterlist

[tamamita]

why do people on the left consider media talking about women and gay people's oppression in non western countries as propaganda? I understand why you would consider it imperialist propaganda but at the same time it feels a bit disregarding of people's experiences. Like I saw a sign that had "we'll get our Iran back" and I mean it is true that gay people and women are oppressed in Iran, so why do people disregard these?

I'll make it simple for you

Look at Israel and how they assume they're the bastion of LGBTQ rights in the middle east, all the while they're currently upholding an apartheid, settler colonial system, which also works as a military outpost for the US imperialist machine. This is called pinkwashing, because it disregards the life of people in order to uphold this ostensible notion of liberal democratic values. True liberty should be secured for all, not for one exclusive group.

The same could happen to Iran in that if the Shah, who was a brutal despot himself, took back power, he would enable the imperialists to secure power in the middle east, and ultimately exploit the global south. People don't disregard these issues, but you can't talk about these issues in good faith while the west manufactures consent on a constant basis all with the interest of vesting power and throwing sanctions at them for the sake of control, despite the fact that they fostered this "threat"

The more you alienate these groups, the less they're going to accept you. Economic growth would allow for progressive groups to develop and thrive, but not through imperialist ambitions, which will only contribute to a greater hostility towards the west and whatever values they may hold. And whenever there is a nation that introduces these rights, they're often overthrown by US-backed elements. In fact Iran was a progressive nation at first. Mohammed Mossadegh was an elected PM who nationlized the oil industry, but was ultimately overthrown, because the Brits wanted the oil, and so they asked the CIA to help them out by overthrowing him. They installed a pupper leader and everything went down from there, do you understand why the Islamic revolution turned out they way it did?

[brotherblaze]

lemon shark —kuroo tetsurō

—summary: When you admit to quitting your high school club, Kuroo pauses, takes the decision in, and recalibrates his stance. He doesn't understand quitting like that but it's okay, you'll figure it out together. He'll always have your back, just as you'll always have his.

—cw: none

—wc: 1,9k

AO3 version

He finds you where always does when you’re not home and there are no other pressing responsibilities: the arcade.

“You’re going to develop carpal tunnel like that,” Kuroo says, peering at the backglass of the pinball machine over your shoulder. Half of it is an incomprehensible mess of a ruined city skyline with a tall figure standing at the forefront, a gun in his hand. It’s very pointedly not the backglass of a pinball machine. Or maybe the nigh-incomprehensible art there and on the sides is a feature, not a bug. The score on the display board on the bottom of the backglass keeps ticking up. He can hear the pinball in the machine dashing up and down, bang against the obstacles littered on the map, and the flippers at the bottom.

“No, I’m only moving my fingers.” You don’t look at him, stare at the pinball in the machine, press the buttons on the sides to make the flippers jump. The pinball bangs against one and is sent catapulting back into the playfield.

Kuroo steps around you and stops next to the machine — he knows better than to lean against it. His hands are buried in his denim jacket pockets. The pinball isn’t overly difficult to follow but he still gets thrown for a loop every now and then when it ricochets off one of the bumpers underneath the glass in an unexpected direction.

It’s really no surprise you’re this good at pinball. With the amount of time you spend in this place, he’d expect you to be able to clean out the shelves of cheaply-made toys and weird little useless gadgets with ease. Regular arcades are fun, he’ll admit it, but this one, American in style with its ticket system some hail as a scam (and claw machines with butterfinger claws that are definitely a scam to boot), he doesn’t see the appeal in this specific arcade.

Somehow, you do.

The pinball in the machine drops. The lights on the machine blink rapidly.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have practice today?” You pat down your pants’ pockets for the points card and swipe it through the machine.

Kuroo raises his brows. “It’s 7:30.”

“What? No, it’s not.” The argument is immediately on your tongue because it isn’t 7:30 PM. That’s impossible.

He pulls one hand from his jacket pocket, presses the power button on the side of his phone, and turns the screen to face you. 7:36 PM.

“Oh.”

Kuroo glances at his phone screen, then slides the device back into his pocket. “How long have you been here?”

You shrug. “Like… 11.” You look away from him, opt to stare at the painted side panel of the pinball machine. It depicts one long white hot lightning strike with a blue aura. Yeah, there’s absolutely no way this frame was originally for this specific pinball game.

When you look up, he’s narrowed his eyes at you, lips tilted into a frown. It’s that look he gives a particularly difficult English homework task. Analyzing. Solution-oriented. “So, what, you skipped swim practice?” Because he knows how long those run. He knows when and where and how and who. It’s embedded into and around his own club schedule.

“I quit, actually. Yesterday.”

You raise your gaze to meet his, hold it, wait for his reaction.

Kuroo’s face spasms, fleeting expressions cycling so goddamned clearly until he pulls himself together, and puts up a nonchalant facade. His brow twitches and his expression morphs just slightly, finally settling on neutral. It’s almost eerie. He pulls his gaze from you, lets it drop to the pinball machine side panel as if he’s processing or looking for the right words to continue, then looks up at you again.

“Why?”

It’s a measured response. His voice is carefully neutral.

You tilt your head to the side, look over his shoulder at the distance, then tilt it to the other side, stare at the claw machine behind him. Your mind races, thoughts colliding and avoiding collision by near-misses, traveling parallel to each other, splitting at intersections. Possible outcomes on top of outcomes race with them, anything and everything from a prolonged lecture on the importance of perseverance, to disappointed resignation, to quiet acceptance. All of them horrible in their own way.

You settle on a half-truth with a shrug of your shoulders. “Got boring.” You don’t want to see his expression morph into the outcome of his choosing and turn away from him, scan the room for one more victim to acquire enough tickets for the top-shelf prize at the prize counter. “Quit while you’re ahead, or whatever they say.” A victim appears; a lone Street Fighter copycat game tucked right by said prize counter.

Kuroo falls into step with you. “That’s for risky stuff.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know, the stock market.”

“What do you know about the stock market, Romeo?”

You dare a glance at him from the corner of your eye but his expression remains carefully blank. It would be infuriating with anyone else. But Kuroo knows how to read people, how to play to their strengths, what to say and what not to say. You think you can read him well enough; he’s keeping his composure neutral to probe your thoughts and/or feelings on the subject so he's able to give the most effective response. It's almost clinical. The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

He positions himself next to you but he doesn’t take up the player 2 slot on the arcade game. You don’t comment on it and hit play.

Your character dashes, jumps, kicks.

The opponent A.I. dodges, jumps, dies.

The game screen flashes GAME OVER in large blocky letters. You swipe the points card, cross your fingers, and saunter up to the prize counter.

You have an abundance of points, it turns out. The woman behind the desk grabs a hook on a stick and with the help of a step stool, pulls a yellow shark plush down from the high shelf. You point to a small raccoon plushie keychain to drain the rest of your acquired points.

Kuroo stares at the bright yellow shark plushie. Its eyes are embroidered hearts filled in with glittering thread. Its felt teeth are bent. “That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” he lies. “It’s a horrifying monstrosity; you could get a better one from IKEA.”

“As per usual you have no taste.” You turn the large plush in your hands and tap the pad of your finger against the glittering eye. No residual glitter catches to your skin. “Well, since you hate this, you wouldn’t happen to want the raccoon, either, huh?”

“Never said that.” He holds his hand out, palm up and you place the small gray and brown raccoon into his waiting hand. He lifts it to eye level, stares back at its large vacant acrylic eyes.

“C’mon,” you jerk your head towards the exit, “you can continue gazing into each other’s eyes soulfully on the way home.”

The summer evening air is slowly cooling as the sun sets. Its orange rays glint off the skyscraper windows.

Rush hour draws to a close and the crowds on the train ease up. You manage to snag two seats near the front of the train as an old couple disembarks.

Your newest companion is sandwiched between your neck and the window, its face pressed flat against the glass. You angle your body slightly so its first dorsal fin is pressed against your throat, your knees pressed against Kuroo’s.

Kuroo spends the ride scrolling through social media. Every now and then he swaps apps, texts someone. You catch Kenma’s picture at the top of the messages. Another time you catch sight of the picture for the volleyball team’s group chat.

It’s hard to lean your head back against the cool window, the best you can do with the shark propped behind your head is turn your face towards Kuroo. It gives you the perfect angle to stare at his profile. He’s slightly slouched, shoulders lax. His posture straightens ever so slightly, jaw tensing, brow creasing. His fingers fly across the screen to type out a response in the group chat with you, him, Yaku, and Kai.

You let your eyes wander his face, the curve of his nose and his lips to —

To the thin scar running along the slope of his cheekbone.

“What?” he asks then, looking up from his phone. He locks and pockets it. You tap on your cheek where his scar is. “Does it bother you?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Because it does. Sometimes.

“As far as first meetings go, it’s probably on the more interesting end of the scale.”

“You’re the one who yanked me from behind.” Because he did.

“Would you have preferred death by way of a moving vehicle?”

You roll your eyes playfully and look away as you always do when he brings that up. Sure, it’s the logical conclusion to you literally trying to run into oncoming traffic way back then; but that doesn’t mean he needs to say it out loud. He doesn’t. It’s the logical conclusion.

“Yeah, well, what a story to tell your grandkids in 60 years.”

You peel yourselves from the seats once your stop arrives and you tuck the shark under your arm. Kuroo keeps to the road side on the sidewalk. The crowds grow even more scarce as your street comes into view.

You pass Kenma’s house; the blinds aren’t drawn and you can faintly see the glow of the TV from Kenma’s room. The lights in Kuroo’s house are on. Some houses on the street are completely dark, others completely alight. There’s a window cracked open somewhere, broadcasting a football match.

You pause in front of your gate, almost at the end of the street, and make no move to cross the threshold.

“I got half the family sicced on me because they’re not fans of me quitting, y’know? Word travels fast.” You stare at the lit living room window obscured by a cream-colored blind. “Somehow they’d gotten it into their heads that I was going to go to the Olympics and now they’re…”

“Pissed?”

“That’s putting it lightly. Pissed and everything else under the Sun.” You purse your lips. “Probably gonna hear how I wasted my Olympic potential for the rest of eternity. I think they’re delusional for thinking I could ever make it that far.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Birds swoop down from the sky, land on the power lines draped above your heads.

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Kuroo asks, jerking his head in the direction of his house. “Dad’s making pancakes first thing in the morning.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “Thanks, but I might as well get lecture number three million about how I can ‘still save my Olympic career’ over with. Good night.”

“Night.”

Kuroo lingers by the gate as you step through and take the short cobblestone path up to the house. He watches you pause at the door before you slot your keys in and throw it open. Still, he stands there as the door closes and stares at your bedroom window. It doesn’t take long before there’s movement, the blinds being rolled down and the lights turning on.

Only then does he take off towards his own house, clutching the raccoon keychain in his pocket.

part 2

divider by @/kafekitsune