#That has to be against confidentiality and stuff right???

[doomdoomofdoom]

if i ever found out my therapist was feeding my data into a fucking AI to document and evaluate my progress, i am getting a new therapist.

in prison.

where i will be for second degree murder.

[alienpossession]

Skillful Masseuse

A gift for @mindmelter

"How does he feel? All good inside of him?"

"Man.....you really did some number down there. Fuck, my mind feels foggy, I think you really managed to squeezed out every last bit of him that I don't want to consume,"

"Yeah well, practice makes perfect. You are like....what, my 78th guy or something? It's unacceptable if I cannot empty a guy consistently by the time I reached the 50th guy. Ah, yeah, the 50th guy, that was the biggest one, and the one giving me the toughest fight,"

"Well, entertain me while I recover then. Tell the story,"

"Oh, okay. So, it's this guy named Tamir. A big tank of a guy, Russian or something along those lines. As you know, I never started from the face for direct takeover rightaway, I started it as a real massage to lower their guard down. But of course I lathered your kind all over the body so you guys can scan the body first and absorb all the muscle memory while numbing it to the point of temporary paralysis. I think he noticed something is wrong right away because he immediately grunted

"Grrr.....why the fuck...uhhh... your oil is so fucking cold??? This is like...ffhhhuuuhh.... fucking frost bite,"

"It's what makes it special, just calm down sir. This will start to feel real good soon," I said to him back then to calm him down.

Yes he eventually calmed down, but moments later, when I lathered your kind on his neck, he started to tremble as he realized that his whole body already stiffened.

It was too late, of course, and soon I witnessed the whole liquid merged into one form and moved upward. Imagine my surprise when he flailed like a fish getting captured, his body trembled violently I thought it would snap in half and he even fell from the massage board! I legit thought your kind failed to tame him, I almost sprayed an entire bottle to his face out of panic. But luckily, he dropped back to the floor like a log as your kind rolled into his wide-open mouth. Of course he then proceeded to gave me the harshest fuck I ever received, I was unable to walk normally for 4 days and have to cancel some appointment because of that. He, being inside a shady businessman, just chuckled when I confronted him about my injury and simply thrown me 20,000 dollar as if it was nothing

"Just shut up and keep on converting, whore. You're not going to talk back to my kind as if we did not pay you back way better than what you serviced us," he said to me

"Wow, that's rude," lamented the latest client, towel already dropped to the floor

"Yeah, very. But he humiliated me further when he pointed out about my raging hard-on,"

"HAHAHAHAHAH, you got hard from all that? Man, that's on you! Me, if I got disrespected like that, oh I wouldn't let that slide,"

"Well, I did inform the most senior out of all of you for the 50th guy verbal insult. Let's just say, he got punished properly for crossing the line against me,"

"Oh fuck......what happened?"

"Oh, you'll know by yourself later. Your kind love to tell stories and gather around in country clubs etc. acting like you are talking about big business stuff when you are all just in fact sharing sex stories and scandals of your own kind. My message is, just don't be a dick to me and you'll be fine,"

"But I can put a dick inside of you, and I'll be totally fine, right?" smirked the taken over scientist, his cock elongated to a decent 7 incher and throbbed excitedly

"How else you guys would pay me after all?" Andrew said with a smirk, the fateful encounter earlier this year really turned everything around for him

----

Andrew has been a masseuse for the past 2 years, but his clientele remained small and he required an extra job just to stay afloat, especially with the cost of living that skyrocketed. Of course he would never expect that somehow his massage oil package got tainted by a mad scientist with a confidential project currently worked on by NASA.

Surprised to see the ripped package in his front porch after his day job, plus the fact that he got an appointment later that evening with no more oil left, Andrew decided not to complain or requesting refund about the opened packages.

Everything went per usual. The client, named Zaid, is a regular, so he casually just stripped to his underwear and let Andrew worked his way. Just imagine Andrew's surprise when his client that seemed fine for the earlier part of the massage suddenly started to speak about the stiffness all over his body.

Andrew checked the bottle of the oil and the expiry still lasted for some times, so this is not the oil issue. Is it his movement, then? When he started to get frantic, his surprise doubled when a translucent, viper-like creature the size of a pencil hovered right below Zaid's lips. That viper-like creature, within seconds, then jabbed itself into Zaid's nose and that made him yelled in pain. That's when the creature split into two and infiltrated Zaid from both his mouth and his nose. It all happened so quickly, Andrew didn't even manage to scream as he just froze in his place, thinking that his client just died under his watch caused by some kind of freak creature. But everything turned out to be far from over as the once-screaming-and-writhing Zaid calmed himself down before opening his eyes. That's when Zaid then said

"Hello, human. Nice to meet you,"

And of course Andrew passed out

He woke up with the morning light already entered the apartment, only to realize that he's no longer in his apartment and Zaid is walking around shirtless

"Oh hey there you, finally, you wake up!"

"Oh God, Zaid, are you okay? Your body no longer feel stiff? What about that creat---"

"Pssst.....stop that. Here, let me show you what I've learned while you fell asleep,"

And that afternoon, not only Zaid shared about all his findings, he also revealed that the he's actually no longer Zaid, as the viper-like creature is already in control of his body. It explained its origin, the test NASA conducted on them and the experimentation they conducted, the mechanics on the takeover, and how Zaid already take the decision to uproot Andrew from his flat and take the masseuse under his wing

"Zaid here got plenty of friends that can be used for my kind. Will you kindly help us?"

And so, the takeover spree started. The easiest one? Zaid's roommate who was surprised when Zaid revealed that they would have additional occupant in the apartment. When the roomie protested, Zaid just sprayed him with the oil right on his face as it then stiffened moments later.

"This makes for a quick takeover, but I find it not as hot as when you unknowingly rubbed my kind all over the human body. I want you to use that skillful hand of yours and give those oblivious human the most pleasure possible before they realized how fucked they are,"

His taken over roomie quickly agreed,

"I have to rub one out before finally feeling this good. So, stick to your method and ensure all our kind received this Earth-shattering entrance as they ride on that orgasmic wave of pushing over the last remnant of the original owner of the bodies, okay? Melt their mind into cum!"

That's exactly what Andrew did ever since. With Zaid and his roommie giving rave reviews about Andrew, soon, Andrew's clientele grew massively. It reached stratospheric high he never dared to dream before thanks to the alien-converted men that endorsed him despite Andrew's so-so massaging skill. But, practice indeed makes perfect and Andrew indeed gets better at his craft with more clients handled by him as his hands methodically kneading, cupping and applying pressure with his special oil all over the body of his clients.

When they got too comfortable and their bodies already numb, that's when the alien strikes and mere minutes later, a brand new entity is in possession of the fine studs. Have they ever seen it coming? Up until now, none, never, not once, based on the memory reading of the possessed. All of them too relaxed to even put up a fight, not even the strongest man can get out from the trap and most of them even thought that the massage was that good, their body turned hella weak.

With still a bottle left, Andrew is about to finish his duty helping the alien. But it's not like the alien ever thinking to dispose him. Instead, the alien wanted to introduce Andrew to their savior. Based on their latest intel, the scientist is alive but he's in hiding as countless government organization is on the lookout for him and also still searching where the heck the scientist disposed the last surviving bits of the alien samples. Of course they will never suspect the alien samples to be poured into 5 different bottle of massage oil in a random New Mexico's suburb.

[athetos]

Some thoughts from severance s2e3, and the season in general:

I 100% assumed the reason the goat people were asking to see their bellies was to see if they had belly buttons. Since the prevailing theory is that the goats are for cloning purposes, i figured they wanted to make sure they weren’t clones (clones not having belly buttons because they weren’t birthed/have need for an umbilical cord). If we take the pouches line at face value, I’d guess that they were told a rumor that MDR had pouches, to sow division and fear between the departments (like the fake uprising told to MDR about O&D, and vice versa).

The Export Floor. The fact that O&D used to deliver things there themselves, but then a courier was used. My theory is that someone saw something there they shouldn’t have. I don’t know how o!Irving knows about it, but I’m not here to discuss that right now. What I want to talk about is the name. The obvious one is exporting goods (or even ideas) to other countries, and this could simply mean it’s where stuff made by O&D gets sent up to the ‘outtie’ world. But there’s another possibility - export as in transferring data to another software/format. I think it’s this meaning that is critical, and has big implications for Gemma/Ms. Casey. They could be transferring the data MDR has refined to her chip, or in some way or another, working on “Cold Harbor.”

I am very firmly in the ‘that’s Helena’ camp now. I don’t think this is in character for Helly, as the extremely awkward conversation in the hall with Mark as well as telling Irving they ‘got him’ sealed it for me. I’m fairly certain that management knows it’s Helena; after all, they don’t activate her chip, although I won’t rule out she paid someone off/threatened them to do it. That said, I like to believe she compromised with the board to go down as herself, instead of as Helly. This would also mean that she can encourage Mark to go places that Lumon specifically wants him to see, instead of ones that are much more confidential. However, I think she’ll end up siding with the innies by the end, simply because the connections she will forge with them will be the only genuine and loving relationships in her life.

I didn’t mention this before, but i’m pretty sure Irving knows that Helena/Helly is lying, because he was the only innie who spent enough time outside to know that it was winter and she couldn’t have been gardening. He distrusts her, that’s why he only told Dylan about Burt.

Upon immediately seeing Dylan’s wife I assumed she was a hired actress. However it genuinely appears to be her (granted, I’m faceblind, but the voice sounded the same when she was with his outtie later in the episode). Lumon clearly thinks that this perk will keep i!Dylan in line, but I think it might backfire spectacularly, or at least cause significant drama - his wife is going to fall in love with his innie. Think about it, if their marriage is going through a rough patch, and she gets to spend time with a version of her husband who lacks all of the assumptions/grudges he has against her - basically starting all over… yeah, it’s gonna get strange. The way she talked about it to o!Dylan was like she was hiding it from him, almost like it’s the beginning of a potential affair…

(I also am still of the mind that either she or one of their children is terminally ill in some way, hence the benefits/insurance that Dylan is always looking after. He also complained a few times about having sore arms and jokes he works out. I feel this might be related somehow? But not sure…)

I stand by my theory that the board is actually the motherboard and is Kier’s (and his successors?) consciousness, or something of that ilk. The board was referred to as “it” in this episode (also “they”, but I believe that was meant as in plural, including Natalie). So I think we actually don’t have any proof that it’s multiple people or even people period. It will be like the export double meaning I mentioned earlier. Again, the board is hot on Mark staying and working because it wants him to finish Cold Harbor so it can begin the revival of Kier’s family (the rotation could potentially mean their minds being uploaded. Or something of that nature.)

No big theories or details to chew on here, but things that got big reactions from me: the Black Kier portraits I was expecting but still not prepared for. I desperately want to see Natalie’s portraits that she received; were they all biracial, all women, or both? The idea of genderbent biracial Kier family is killing me. This is like Hamilton (I think). Cobel definitely was going to die if she went into the building, she made the right call, I was terrified that her car might explode as she left. Phew. Next episode is going to be a roller coaster, I can tell. Shocked that he’s starting reintegration so soon but I’m here for it. Worried that Devon is going to get murdered. And I’m waiting for Cobel to get hunted down by Mark or for her to willingly seek him out as she realizes this is her only chance left to… do whatever the fuck it is she wants to do.

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! I hope you’re doing good! I’m not sure if this has been done yet, but I got an idea for a fluff (possibly a pinch of angst?) scenario!:

Any, all or two of the traffic light trio sillies (Mei, Red Son, MK), with an s/o GN!reader that’s an experienced healer who takes care of them after a tough battle against a monster of your choosing. Maybe they have a heartfelt conversation afterwards, or during the process of patching them up, about getting themselves in danger for the sake of saving the world? 👀

Been thinking a lot about this since s5 lmao. Haven’t fully recovered yet 💀

🍜💛 Healing a Trio —🐉💚 Traffic Light Trio x GN Healer!Reader HCs 🔥❤️

Genres: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🍜🐉🔥୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ . ݁˖

- It had been a fight with a huge hawk demon, one that MK was pretty confident he could take, especially cause Mei could use her bike to move closer to the threat. Red Son was roped in by circumstance, begrudgingly working with the heroes to defeat the threat. The attack was a surprise, so there wasn't much the Trio was prepared to do. Once it finally ended, they were sufficiently scratched, scuffed, battered, and bruised

- The three had come to you a little hesitantly. They didn't like feeling like they were bothering you, especially because these always ended in some deep conversations about the nature of self-sacrafice and priorities. When you'd opened your door to the three and allowed them in without many questions, they filed in, MK and Mei attempting lighthearted jokes right off the bat to diffuse tension

- MK, for as much as he gets hurt, sucks at getting patched up. He hisses and writhes if the topical medicine stings, yelping and whining at the unpleasant sensations. He's a very dramatic patient, but a very talkative one as well

- He tells you about the fight, reassuring you that he already remembers the conversations you'd both had before about these things. He's not exactly happy having to sit still while getting bandaids and bandages applied, but he's obviously still proud of his victory

- He's more quiet when you're closer, focusing on the feeling of your hands on his skin, the gentle and reliable touch providing a sense of safety and warmth. He feels his heart swell seeing the determined expression you have while working, and little flutters when you occasionally banter back. This routine between you was familiar, it was comforting. He felt safe under your care

- Mei, meanwhile, is also a pretty passionate speaker, but much less of a whiner than MK. Her problems are mostly just squirming from being hyperactive and wound up on adrenaline, frequently trying to hop off of your workbench to demonstrate a move

- Your gentle chastising with Mei is unique, specifically taking time to address how she feels being on the sideline of missions these days, and having to hold things together for MK most of the time. She feels like she can have that full honesty with you, your complete confidentiality and understanding helping to hold her together

- She flirts with you more openly than the other two. Any time you're close enough, she points out something about your face to compliment. She offers to help you do small things, asking questions about your job and what kinda stuff you see outside of the Monkey Crew

- Red Son, like the others, is a talker. His ramblings are closer to ranting and raving, and outside of waving his arms or doing grand dramatic gestures, he's more still than the other two

- Conversations about his family are what come up most often, when he isn't bragging about his villainy or latest attacks on the town. More recently he's been talking a lot about working as a food vendor. It's nice to see him happy about something that doesn't come from malicious intent

- He allows himself to show past his anger and be more vulnerable with you. He's a hint softer, a little more willing to be honest and open with you. He loves your willingness to do this for them, and he tells you frequently how much he admires you and your work

- The three usually stick around for a few hours after each appointment, talking with you and telling you about everything you my have missed in their lives. They treasure their individual time with you, and Mei and MK especially try to hype you up all the time to show their thanks

- They invite you out every once in a while to have some hangouts without medicine or injury in the picture. They introduce you as a vital member of the team to others and get protective of you during battles

[majesty0h]

~Sharing is CARING. And Toji Cares About You Very Much~ imagine this is them ok

You and Toji have a great sex life. Scratch that, you have an AMAZING sex life. His stamina is stupid, he's packing bigger than you've ever encountered...he's a FREAK. A hulking, muscled freak who's down for anything and has showed your usually prude ass things you've never even dreamed of. Bondage, wearing vibrators in public, petplay, breathplay, temperature play, hell one time he ate your ass on the balcony while he was dressed as Wolverine. You had no clue where he got all of these ideas, but you certainly weren't complaining.

The current "thing" was watching porn on your VR headset while he went down on you. He'd been shocked to hear that you didn't consume it regularly, I mean, he was beating off to BBW on the Hub every chance he got. He was determined to force you outside your comfort zone.

It started slow, vanilla. Standard B/G, anal. Then it evolved to breeding, cucking, double penetration...

That's when he noticed it.

You took forever, FOREVER to cum on his mouth (to his annoyance) when you were watching dirty movies. But when you stumbled upon a woman getting plowed by her husband and his best friend...you were quick. Too quick. The way you moaned and gripped his hair, pulling him in deeper, it caused his tongue to stop flickering for a moment.

"Hm? What the fuck's gotten you so riled up, ma?"

You instantly freeze and pause the video, cheeks burning red behind that stupid headset, feeling dirty, feeling bad. It was bad this was so hot, right? "Uh, nothing. Just usual stuff," you lied.

You're a terrible liar.

You feel and hear the bed creak as he shifts up and snatches the device off you, raising it up and peering. He's wearing just grey sweatpants, that were tenting the minute he realized what was up. A shit eating grin spread across his face. "Oh fuck. That's what you're into now?"

You groan and throw a pillow at him. "Shu up! I've just never seen it before. You ruined the mood."

Your boyfriend is snickering at your discomfort. "Uh huh. Get on all fours. I wanna see who fucks her better."

You push this morning's events out of your head as you go to work. And it's definitely not when you return home ten hours later, tired, annoyed, and frustrated.

"Hey babes. Welcome home!" Toji, your beautiful trophy boy calls from the living room. "How was work?"

Sighing you kick off your heels and scan your phone. "It was rough. This merger is insane. We have 5 million dollars riding on this and everyone wants to dick around. I thought being Vice President was worth the drama, but it's seriously getting to me," you vent as you scroll through dozens of confidential, high priority emails.

Maybe that's why you loved Toji so much. Whenver you're with him, you don't think about deadlines, trades, layoffs. Just feeling good, happy, and full.

Walking into the living room, you're so engrossed you don't even register there's someone else sitting on the couch with Fushiguro. You only look up in confusion when the stranger whistles, low and deep. It's almost like a purr. "Damn Toji, you weren't lyin'. Complete smokeshow."

Your eyes widen and your head snaps up. There he is, manspreading on your very expensive couch, sleek black boots pressed against your /very/ expensive white rug. He's tall, lanky, built like a beanpole. He's got a shock of white hair, and he's wearing small, circle shaped sunglasses, but the shine of dazzling blue eyes peek through anyways.

Toji's looking at you like it's Christmas morning, his gaze darting between the other man and his jaded wifey. He seems to drink in your confusion.

"Oh...I...I didn't know you had a friend over," you say after an awkward pause. You're trying to address your man, but you can't tear your eyes away from this twink. Who is he? "Hi?"

The stranger beams, shifting to a more professional posture. God he is tall. You feel so small under his gaze, and you glance to Toji for help, understanding. He offers none. "Hey, pretty lady. My name is Jerome. Jerome Washington. The building's maintenance man. I heard..." he leans slightly closer to you, sliding his shades just down an inch. "You need your pipes cleaned."

You blink. "No? The pipes are fine?"

Toji groans in disproval and shoves "Jerome" slightly. "Dude, I told you, you don't gotta do any of that shit. Just be normal, for fuck's sake."

The stranger, who was doing his best to seem mysterious and commanding, broke into a boyish smile. "Oh yeah my bad. Sup? I'm Satoru Gojo. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you tonight!"

"We," Toji corrected, but he's got that same expression.

Have you gone crazy? Has the stress finally made you crack? Are you hallucinating? This was a fever dream. Toji had a knack for wanting to snap the neck of any man who even looked at you...so why was he sitting here, giddy, as this "Satoru" addressed you so vulgar? So hungry?

"...huh?" is the only thing you can say, darting between the pair. You're more than a yard away, but you can practically smell the lust filling the room. "Toji...what is--"

"Remember earlier today?" he interrupts, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "When you were creamin' over that video? The Eiffel Tower?"

"Toji!!"you hiss, flustered he would bring this up in front of a guest.

He cocks his head, throwing Gojo a knowing smirk. "She's all shy. Isn't that cute? But I promise, she was feening."

Satoru licks his lips, still undressing you with his eyes. "I bet. To be honest I haven't either. But I'm not stupid enough to turn it down."

Toji snorts. "Yeah? Don't worry, I'll show your prudes how it's done." He snaps his fingers at you. "C'mere doll. C'mere and kneel."

You're glued to the same spot, trying to reconcile what's happening. You watch as Satoru pats his knee, promising not to bite, unless you're into that.

"Princess,"Toji repeats again, his tone firm and commanding enough to snap you back to reality. You know that voice. It's the "you listen or you're in a lot of trouble" voice.

Sheepishly, you stare at your feet as you shuffle forward. You can't ignore how your heart beats in your chest, how your dress feels too tight, how this is the hottest fucking thing you've ever experienced.

"Kneel."

You don't defy him. You look up at them both with doey eyes, shuddering when he grips your chin, stroking your cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb. Gojo hums and repeats the same motion on the other side. His touch is soft and warm, and you can't help the soft sigh that escapes you. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing warmth. Your boyfriend presses your foreheads together, his voice syrupy against your ear. "I love you so much, doll. I'd do anything to make you happy. If this doesn't show it, nothing else will. Now you just relax and I'm gonna make your fantasies all come true," he promise as he nips at your neck. "Now start making our friend feel at home."

You swallowed hard. You feel like you could faint. You want to reply "yes daddy" like the good girl you are, but words fail you. All you can do is nod.

You take a deep breath and scoot over, still on your knees, but nestled between Gojo's skinny legs. He smiles down at you innocently, but the contents of his words are far from it. "You have such pretty lips, sweetie. How about you open them for me?"

You glance at Toji for reassurance, but he's gone from the couch, crouching behind you, fingers weaving into your hair, massaging your scalp. "Go on."

Your hands tremble as you reach for Gojo's belt.

((haven't written anything like this in years LOL im so rusty. stay tuned for part 2 and feel free to share ;D ))

[sysmedsaresexist]

So have you talked about Colin Ross abusing and traumatizing his patients, or him believing he can shoot beams of energy out of his eyeballs, or any of that stuff or did i miss those posts or what

I did :) keep looking, I'm sure you're almost there

In all seriousness, no one is saying he's a saint or unproblematic, but him believing he can shoot lasers doesn't exactly affect the results of fmris or the readings of other clinicians in the studies compiling results

I mean, unless he shot the lasers right into the machine

That might skew the results a bit

But if you're going to dismiss Ross, you also have to dismiss van der Hart, Braun (RIP???), Poznanski, and all of the other psychotherapy clinicians involved in 15-20% of yearly medical malpractice lawsuits (statistics in these areas are horrible to wade through).

Malpractice lawsuits are a fact of life in the medical field and that's why every doctor is legally required to have insurance. It's estimated that by the age of 65 years, 75% of physicians in low-risk specialties had faced a malpractice claim (this includes psychiatry), as compared with 99% of physicians in high-risk specialties (surgeons and the like). At least 10% of an average 40 year career is spent with an open lawsuit on file. 96% of medical malpractice cases are settled out of court, without you ever knowing they happened. Your family/general doctor has more than likely been sued before, and you have zero idea. Of the cases that go to court, over 55% are dismissed. Of the remainder, over 70% are awarded to the physician. These numbers are terrifying. Not only are the number of frivolous lawsuits incredibly high, the fact that so few cases are won by the patient is just depressing.

Based on the above, like 1 case out of roughly 3,500 yearly malpractice suits against therapists will succeed in court.

(The above numbers are US based)

To reiterate, over half of those cases never go to court and you don't know they happened, because at that point, insurance companies prefer to just make things go away with money, whether it's valid or not.

How many can't afford to sue?

These cases range from therapists oversharing, bad note taking, confidentiality concerns, sexual relationships, business relationships, misdiagnosis, prescription management, lack of training in techniques, disagreements, and any number of other things. More often than not, malpractice suits aren't for emotional damage, but procedural and ethical issues.

The more well-known you are, the harder the cases you take, the more likely you are to be sued. I don't actually know of a case where Ross was the sole named physician, usually there's 3 or 4 named and Ross has only made it to the settlement stage once, though we can't see what part he played or if he was held responsible over the other physicians. I don't think he was ever named as the primary physician, meaning he came into these cases after another doctor had made the diagnosis.

How would you feel if every doctor decided to reassess you themselves rather than trust another diagnosing physician? This is a real question that matters. It's not rhetorical. I'm not defending Ross, either, but I'd be pretty frustrated by the third round of testing. Multiple diagnosing clinicians just isn't always feasible, and yes, it leads to errors. But that's not just psychiatry.

I don't really know what to say to this ask. No one is denying he's got problems, but can those problems be directly tied to the research and did they skew results? Where do we draw the line to decide who's officially useless as a clinician (people like Hart) and who's just getting sued in a normal daily event?

Can we talk about the laser beam thing for a second, though?

Colin Ross has an eyebeam of energy he'd like you to hear

Ross applied to the James Randi Educational Foundation’s One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge

Ross's basic claim is that with the aid of special goggles he’s assembled using a blue Aqua Sphere swim mask, electrical wiring and, naturally, scraps of tin foil, he can harness the energy from his eyes and use the energy to play a tone on a computer. He describes it like an on-off switch. And he plans to use the technology he’ll develop to add receptors to such devices as iPods and light switches, allowing folks to turn them on or off using our eyebeams.

He won an award. A Pigasus. I think this is hilarious.

The Pigasus Award is given each year, “To the scientist or academic who said or did the silliest thing related to the supernatural, paranormal or occult.” Dr. Ross’ 2009 Pigasus Award stems from his ability to focus his own electromagnetic field to send a beam of energy from his eyes and make a tone sound out of a speaker. He has applied to the One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge administered by the JREF.

The JREF has ridiculed Dr. Ross since he filed his challenge application. James Randi wrote on his web page: “You think you’ve seen every sort of claim that could be thrown at the JREF…. Most have been preposterous, silly, irrational, and/or astonishing. Now we have one that is all of those…Dr. Colin A. Ross.”

“I am not the first unconventional thinker who has had to endure the snickering of cynics and skeptics, so I happily accept this recognition,” said Dr. Ross. “Every significant scientific advance faces resistance, but it is time that the JREF stop ridiculing me and tests the protocol.”

I don't know where I'm going with all this, it's just food for thought, context. Nothing is ever quite so black and white, even eye lasers, and sometimes you keep the bathwater and toss the evil baby.

It's hard, it's a balance. Do we say you can't trust the ToSD because of Hart? Can bad people still make reliable resources? As much as it sucks, I think some research is still valuable, and we need to teach people how to critically examine methods and conclusions to decide if the research has merit, not just decide based on whose name is first in the authors list.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Do you think the JFK, RFK, and MLK (huh; they all have last names that start with K) assassination files will have anything in them? Surely even the feds aren't stupid enough to leave things that incriminate them IN WRITING, right?

I don't think we're going to get a memo from the CIA that says "Okay so Bill is gonna be in the grassy knoll with the exact same rifle as Asset 235, aka, Lee Harvey Oswald, as that bastard Kennedy drives by. Once we blow his stupid head off, we need to make sure we get Agent Ruby in the prison Oswald will eventually be sent to so we can tie up any loose ends. And tell the goddamn aliens not to get in the way this time. We're running out of weather balloon stories."

Most likely, the documents will reveal some confidential informants that were used during the investigation or some procedures the CIA would rather keep secret even though they aren't used anymore. We might get some stuff that, if you read between the lines, shows that the CIA might have been able to stop the assassination if they'd made different choices.

But that's JFK.

I absolutely think there's incriminating evidence that the FBI killed MLK, because some of that evidence has already come out. We know the FBI sent letters to him telling him to kill himself. We know that the FBI was spying on him and working against him. We have documented proof that the police cut down a tree in the middle of the night after King was killed that was between King and the supposed shooter's hotel room and proves that he couldn't have taken the shot. We have eyewitness testimony that there was an identical car to the supposed killers in the same parking lot around the time of the assassination. We even have the FBI losing a civil case that found them responsible for King's death. So yeah, I think we might actually get a smoking gun in those documents.

[starwarsanthropology]

Heyyy~

Can I ask for OrdoMaze with 43? :3

The stark, neon lighting of the Coursucant night-cycle is an abrupt shift from the muted golden lights in the bar as Ordo slips out to follow after Maze, a few minutes after he leaves. Just enough lag between exits to keep Kal’buir and the RCs off of them. 

He tracks Maze via his comm’s location tag a few blocks over to a quiet, back alley speeder platform about ten feet above street level. Maze is sitting on the edge of it, leaning on crossed arms against the low bumper rail. 

“Null.” He says, looking over Ordo appraisingly.

“Alpha,” Ordo replies, and then clambers up a drainage pipe to join him.

Maze snorts gently when a screw pings out of the wall, too much weight put on the bracket holding the pipe secure, and Ordo glares at him as he grabs the edge of the balcony to haul himself up and over. The duracrete has a slightly tacky, powdery feel, a decade’s worth of emissions building up into sediment that feels somehow grimier than actual dirt on Ordo’s bare palms. He tries to wipe them off on his kama once he’s seated next to Maze, and then scowls and pulls out a wipe when that doesn’t work.

Maze just watches him, quiet, and then once he stuffs the wipe back into a belt pouch to throw out later, he leans his warm bulk against Ordo’s side. Coruscant doesn’t have much in the way of natural weather patterns, as climate-controlled as it is, but this close to a major skyroad, the vehicles send strong, cutting winds whistling through the buildings. In his armor, Maze feels like a bulwark. Stable, safe. Somewhere nice to hunker down until he has to move on to the next objective.

“So, Besany?” Maze asks, and Ordo checks him lightly with his shoulder. “She’s a good one.”

“Mm. Kal’buir is very eager about us.” Ordo says. “He doesn’t realize that she’s not romantically interested in men.”

Maze laughs, startled. “He’s not very good with people, is he?”

“He’s great with them when it matters.”

“He thinks Besany is flirting with you instead of trying to adopt you like you’re a feral tooka she found dropping presents on her doorstep.” 

Ordo doesn’t have anything else to say, and appearantly neither does Maze, so they spend a long while simply leaning against each other and watching the debris of a city of trillions get buffeted around in the breeze.

“Maze?” Ordo says, eventually. “How good are you for getting read into something confidential? Off the record.”

Maze looks him over, considering. “Is breaking opsec going to compromise anything?”

“No. Only reputations.”

Maze perks up at that. He’s such a gossip, really. All the Alphas are; nosy bastards to their cores, trained to keep track of all their subordinates like mother hens. 

“Read me in, Ord’ika.” He says, and Ordo is almost ashamed when he opens his mouth and the words spill out.

“General Tur-makan got herself pregnant.”

“No.” Maze gasps, scandalized. 

“Mmhm. Kal’buir is furious about it. Maybe would have killed her if it wasn’t for the fact she’s carrying.” 

“Who’s the father?”

Ordo closes his eyes and takes a deep, centering breath. “Darman.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“Don’t think so.”

“That’s karked.” Maze says, awed. 

“Yeah. Kal’buir is shipping her off to Quiilura to wait it out.” Ordo shuffles closer to Maze, who rocks just enough to bump their shoulders before leaning back into him.

“You should tell Dar. Not when it could compromise him, but it’s his to know.”

“Kal’buir is handling it.”

“Skirata is a poor judge of when to share intel. There’s a reason he’s only a sergeant.”

Ordo, suddenly furious, both at Maze for throwing that in his face, and himself, for taking foolish initiative to confide in him, snarls and snaps his fist into Maze’s face. “That’s my father.”

Maze groans from his position knocked flat on his back on the speeder platform, and then snaps upright to slam his forehead right into Ordo’s nose.

Ordo makes a furious, inarticulate noise, hand flying to his face, and Maze just looks him in the eye, steady and calm and ready to drop everything for a fight.

“I’m right. I’m smarter than him. You’re smarter than him. We’re bred to be.”

The bridge of Ordo’s nose aches fiercely, and his nose is gushing after so many strikes to the face in short succession. He pinches it to slow the flow and leans forwards, breathing through his mouth and watching Maze out the corner of his eye. Maze’s nose is bleeding, too, but it’s just a single fat drop slowly traveling down his lip. It shimmers in the light as his breath makes it quiver; Maze’s nose wrinkles up at the ticklish sensation and he wipes it with a knuckle. Ordo is caught by the sight of blood smeared on his lover’s hands and face, almost invisible in the lighting except for how it leaves a damp, shiny smear over his skin. He wants to lick it off. He wants there to be more. He wants, he wants. He doesn’t know what he wants, but it sharpens his teeth and sends off a round of howling hunger in his gut.

He tamps down the feeling.

“I’ll tell Dar, if Kal’buir takes too long.” He concedes, slightly nasal through his bloody nose, and Maze smiles at him, irritated expression melting into something warm and fond. Ordo wants to choke him.

“Good boy, Ord’ika,” Maze says, and instead of choking him, it’s Ordo who chokes on his outrage as Maze tilts up his chin and kisses him, ignoring the blood dripping down his face and into their mouths. He bites him in retaliation, hard enough to split his lip and add Maze’s blood to his between them, and Maze’s hand grips his face and squeezes until he opens his mouth and keeps it open, maintaining a careful threat of pressure at the hinge of his jaw as Maze kisses him stupid.

Ordo is gasping and wheezing by the time Maze pulls away, his nose whistling from where it's clogged with blood. He can taste it down to his lungs, the thick, metallic coating over his airways and mouth and throat. He hopes Maze can taste him in the same way, vindictive or victorious, as he catches his breath, reeling back from the intensity of it.

Mazes laughs, breathless, and Ordo snaps a sharp look to him. It just makes Maze laugh harder, and he leans forwards to cup Ordo’s face in his hands and press a kiss against his forehead. 

“You’ve got— a little—” Maze chuckles, and gestures over the lower half of his face. In the dim lighting, he can’t see color very well, but he abruptly registers the slightly darker shades and wet shine over Maze’s mouth, chin, cheeks. He’s covered in blood from their kiss.

“You, too.” Ordo tells him, and dabs lightly at his face to map the limits of the tacky smear over his lips, chin, neck. There’s a spot at his forehead, too,  where Maze had pressed another bloody kiss to his skin.

“Damn. Let’s clean up, and then I’ll take you back to bed?”

“Only if I get to bloody you up again.” Ordo says, and holds his hand out for a wipe.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It looks good on you.”

[zipzin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chetney Pock O'Pea & Imogen Temult, Laudna/Imogen Temult Characters: Imogen Temult, Chetney Pock O'Pea, Laudna Additional Tags: Campaign 3, Crack Summary: Forget time, forget Ludinus, forget the gods, forget Predathos. She was going to fucking kill Chetney for mentioning her name and the title assistant in the same breath.  Then maybe Dorian, after all he was the one who started this farce.

“-the assistant of C-POP Industries? I’m trying to get in touch with him and he isn’t answering. Has the master craftsman passed away?”

Imogen was wrenched from sleep as a grating voice she didn’t recognize split open her brain. “What?” she croaked out and sat up, “Did you say Chet’s dead? What’s going on?”

It took her a couple blinks to realize that she was staring at the dark red rocks of the Ruidus tunnel, one last night of, well, the closest thing they could get to peace before they entered Kreveris. Laudna was asleep, eyes open and arms tangled with hers while Ashton and Fjord were sitting ten feet away, ostensibly on watch.

They’d almost agreed against it, the only thing that would be out here would be one of those giant worms and if that was on them, it didn’t matter if someone got a shout off. They’d all know about it and they should all hope they’d be swallowed together.

And she was talking to no one.

“You good?” Ashton shout-whispered at her, “It’s not quite next watch. Bad dream?”

“No, not that” Imogen rubbed her head, “I don’t know, weird dream.”

He nodded and she laid back down and felt her body begin settle again.

“Will C-POP Industries be making a statement at Pop-con about the death of the master craftsman? What will become of his last collection?”

Imogen sat back up and sighed. What fucker was sending her? About Chetney of all people?

“How did you get in contact with me?” She growled and could see Ashton and Fjord both turn and frown at her. “And why are you asking me about Chet?” His snores were filling the tunnel and she squinted to try to make out his tiny form in the dark.

“Our sources are confidential,” the voice was smug, “But once he didn’t answer and with the weird feedback we’re receiving we thought it was best to check with his assistant.”

“Fucking Waylon,” Imogen swore, “Look, he’s not dead. We’re sleeping alright, I can see him breathing and everything. We’re on the moon. Who is this?”

There wasn’t an answer and she itched to send right back at him, but she had no fucking clue what they even looked like. Or their name. And now was not the time to be using spells for frivolous sending reasons. 

Imogen sighed and stood, gently extricating herself Laudna’s arms. “I’ll take next watch.”

Ashton shrugged, “I promised to wake up Fearne.”

“That’s fine.”

“Is everything okay?” Fjord asked.

“It’s fine, just Chet assistant stuff.” Imogen sighed and rubbed her head. “Some dipshit is probably gonna keep sending to me.”

He frowned while Ashton snorted beside her and stood, walking carefully over to Fearne and shaking her awake while Fjord gently shook Caduceus.

“Imogen?” Fearne frowned at her, “Are you joining us?”

“I woke up,” Imogen shrugged, “And I feel fine, all recovered, so, figured I’d just join ya on the last watch if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Caduceus rumbled, his eyes stopping on Laudna for a second before moving on. 

Imogen put herself between Caduceus and Fearne, he seemed nice enough if you ignored his uncommon interest in Laudna, and she was half-nervous Fearne was going to say or do something that would change his interest into something more sinister. Neither of them talked, and Imogen sat with a strict back and narrow eyes waiting for the asshole who dragged her out of bed to annoy her some more.

After about thirty minutes of silence, she had almost made her mind up to return to Laudna’s arms.

She sighed loudly.

“You can go back to bed,” Caduceus rumbled.

“Maybe-”

“Can you comment on the state of your relationship with Mr. Pock O’Pea?”

“Oh what the hell!” She stood and at the two’s confused gaze, whispered to Fearne, “Make sure he doesn’t mess with Laudna.” And then strode down the tunnel, “Now, who the fuck is this?”

There was a beat of silence.

“We are a collective who are interested in getting the answers to Exandria’s burning questions. Now, how do you feel about Mr. Pock O’Pea?”

“He’s a-” she cut herself off, as her sleepy brain seemed to click on and she gritted her teeth. This was some fucking reporter. And why were they asking about Chet? How many C-Poppers were there? How had this grown so quickly? “He’s a very skilled craftsman. That’s all I have to say.”

“Are there any associates that would be interested in talking to us? Feel free to give their description and name?”

“I’m not tellin’ ya shit. You haven’t told me anything about you. How do I know you’re a real reporter?”

“We’ve been told that there’s a dangerous green haired faun around him. Was the attack from her?”

“Attack!?” Imogen yelped, “What attack? He’s fine! And she’s not dangerous. To him.” Imogen hastily added.

She waited, but there was no response, and clenched her fists. She was going to kill Chetney. This stupid lie that she was an assistant just because she could message people! And she never even had to message Waylon! Who fucking sold her out to some reporter?!

She let out a harsh sigh and then stomped back over to Caduceus and Fearne after ten minutes of fuming.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“It’s fine.” Imogen said.

Fearne eyed her carefully and then clasped her hand. Imogen squeezed it back trying to ease the tension that was building in her neck.

Orym woke first, and in a gentle cascade the others began to stir and get ready for the final march. 

Imogen stomped over to the snoring Chet with haste. After a particularly loud snort, she reared her foot back and kicked him with, well, not all of her strength, but she’s done with this farce.

His snores immediately stopped and she heard Laudna’s vague, “Darling? Are you alright?” behind her.

“I know you’re up, Chetney.” Imogen leaned over him.

“You could of killed me with that kick!” He yelled.

“But I didn’t!” Imogen pulled back the blanket and stared at him. He frowned back, bushy eyebrows furrowed and what little hair he had sticking up in strange directions.

“It’s not my fault there’s not a private room for you and Laudna in this long ass tunnel!”

“What?” Imogen sputtered.

“Why else would you be kicking me awake?”

“The hell Chetney! No! It’s because some reporter woke me up because they thought you were dead!”

“What?!”

“Apparently Ruidus gives sendings weird feedback and you snore through them! So they decided to contact me!”

“You’re my assistant!”

“Assistant?” She heard Beau mutter.

“Chetney!”

“Wait,” he moved to a sitting position, “dead? What did you tell them?”

“That you were asleep!” Imogen rubbed at her temples to ease the oncoming headache.

“Good,” he nodded and then stared at her, continence easing a bit. “I’m sorry you can’t sleep through messages, but it isn’t my fault.”

“Fucking Waylon passed my description along! That makes it your fault!”

“Are you dissatisfied in my employ?”

“You don’t fucking pay me Chet!”

“I gave you 200 platinum yesterday!”

“Oh wow, that’s a lot of money.” She heard Jester say.

“That was for diamonds! For all of us!”

He shrugged, “You could spend it on anything you wanted.”

“And you stole it from Allura!”

“I didn’t steal anything! She gave it to me!”

Imogen stared at him and her hands raised up as she thought about casting psychic lance until he really did keel over. She let out a half-scream and then stormed back to the group.

“Are you his assistant because he’s so old?” Jester asked and then in a half-whisper, “Do you have to help him stand up?”

Imogen stopped and stared at her and with a moment’s deliberation answered, “Yes.”

She glanced back at Chet, but he was just shrugging with a smile, “Helps keep me fresh and breathing another day.” He looked down at his sitting position and then held up a hand, “Assistant?”

“Ugh!” Imogen jerked him up with her telekinesis, grabbing the back of his collar and forcing him into standing position and stormed away to where her bed roll and bags lay. Laudna pulled her into her arms and began to rub circles on her back.

“You were at the key,” Beauregard said, “Were you his assistant then? Did you come as a package deal? I thought your mom was wrapped up in this?”

“Imogen’s quite capable,” Laudna said.

“Actually,” Dorian piped up, “She was my servant first.”

Oh, they were both dying. Painful, brutal, flung out into the astral sea where no one could rescue them.

“Servant?” Fjord muttered.

“You know what I remember from then?” Imogen shot back, “That you and Fearne are engaged.”

Dorian blushed and hid behind his pack while Fearne just flipped her hair, “I have many bonds across Exandria.”

Ashton snorted, “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Um,” Caleb said, “I think we should get going.”

“Gladly,” Chetney fruitlessly brush some red dirt off his pants, “After my wonderful assistant.” He waved Imogen forward.

“Chet, I swear to you. If that damn reporter sends to me when we’re facing Ludinus I’m breaking Predathos free and killing you.”

“Only if you respond first! Can’t ruin my reputation!”

“Darling,” Laudna carefully wrapped her up and Imogen sunk into the coldness that’s brought her comfort more than anything, “Maybe we don’t decide to fundamentally change the cosmos because we’re mad at Chetney.”

“He’d deserve it,” She grunted out and buried her face into Laudna’s shoulder. She let Laudna’s scent wash over her.

“Maybe,” And Imogen knew by the almost laugh Laudna let out with each word that she thinks she’s being ridiculous, “But we need to approach this with clear heads. Okay?”

“I know,” Imogen grunted and pressed a kiss to her skin, “I know. I just, they woke me up! Because he was snoring through their messages and they thought he died! I should have just let them.”

“You can do that next time,” Laudna said and kissed her temple.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, whatever you want.”

“Oh yeah,” Chetney called back, “Whatever you want.”

400 years was a life long enough, right?

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓿𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓐 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Moving to a new place is always a tough time, but the knowing you have a mysterious neighbor doesn’t exactly help.

Warnings: None?

[📞 Series Masterlist 📞]

𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚

“On Friday, April 4th, three helicarriers from the US government affiliated organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D. fell into the Potomac River in Washington, DC. This occurred only thirty minutes after many previously confidential government, S.H.I.E.L.D., and HYDRA documents were leaked onto the internet. With us today we have Mr. Ed Brubaker here to talk more on HYDRA and how…”

It was like the same news story had been playing for the last week.

Your family had immediately urged you to move somewhere else, somewhere safer. You intended to move anyway, but their persistence was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

And so, you packed up your shit and moved.

You were an artist, so there was plenty to pack. You were only partially concerned over your financial situation—most of your art was bought online, so as long as you could mail things, it would be okay.

And, if worst comes to worst, you could always get a job at like, a sandwich shop or something.

“That over there is the barn. Concrete floor, sturdy walls, perfect for tractors and other vehicles and machinery. Right in front of it is the garage—four wheelers and whatever else is good in there. Here’s your main house. All one floor. Four bedrooms.” Mike said as he walked you up the porch to the sliding glass door.

He led you inside the house. “Master bedroom down the hall, master bathroom connected to it. These are your two living rooms, this one has a television. Back room’s got the laundry machines, and plenty of storage. It’s also got the big freezer. One of your bedrooms is connected to it.” Mike explained. “Nearest neighbor is two fields away—nobody but old folks like me live up here. ‘Cept for Mr. Blackwood, I believe. Though, I have no idea how old that gentleman is, I never seen him ‘round here when I was gettin’ this place here ready.” He pondered. 

“Mr. Blackwood?” You echoed.

“Yeah. Chris or Charles or Chase or somethin’ like that. Never hear about him in town, didn’t even know he lived in that there house until recently. Either way, there’s the thin tree line separating you.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “You are amazing. The place looks great.” You said to the man who’d sold you the house.

“I do my best, ma’am. The pantry’s fully stocked. You asked for fully furnished, and I planned to deliver.” 

“You really did—this is absolutely perfect.” You would admit that the way you’d gotten this place on such short notice was a little shady, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Why, thank you.” He smiled. “Radio’s in the master bedroom. WiFi and internet aren’t the greatest back here—always plan like you won’t have it. Power can get rocky during storms, so always make sure you know where your radio is jus’ in case.” 

“Right. Got it.” 

Mike left a little later, and you got to bringing in boxes. You put the boxes in their designated rooms before beginning to unpack the necessities first. Things like clothes and stuff.

You wondered about Mr. Blackwood. He was your only neighbor for literal miles, so you had to wonder what he was like. Was he old, like Mike had said? Was he around your age, or maybe somewhere in between? Was he nice? Or would he be annoying? 

You had other things to think about. Besides, this wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. You got back to unpacking. 

The Captain walked through the halls, the sound of his shoes against the floor audibly telling the world that he means business. His blonde hair was slightly messy, as if he’d just been on a mission. His brows were furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. A woman with red hair rushed to match his pace. She looked equally concerned, but more for him than whatever he was focused on. 

The Spy reached out, attempting to put her hand on his shoulder. He paused to let her do so.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “You thought he was there so you followed your lead. You made all the right calls.” She attempted to soothe him. 

“He wasn’t even there. All that time we could’ve been finding him and I was too busy leading everybody the wrong way.” The Captain frowned. 

“It’s okay,” she hummed. “We’ll find your guy. We will.” 

The Captain nodded as the Spy gently cupped his face. 

“Besides,” she said after a moment. “There’s always one person we can ask for help.” 

The Captain gave her an unsteady look, one of pure displeasure. Whoever the other person was, the Captain was not fond of him.

A/n: it’s been a long time coming, huh?

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

[sunskate]

tw:

thank you for this info. both of these are very much worth the time. oooof. the W5 documentary - my heart hurts for those girls and women. it's harrowing even to read the transcript. i started watching and had to stop and read the rest. completely devastating. and at the same time infuriating

the Future of Figure Skating podcast - the process in Canada very much sounds like it shields the institutions and therefore the abusers during investigation. Amelia Cline says they've found that going outside the systems in place is often the most effective route. which is damning about the system. Abby Spadafora says complaints often aren't taken seriously, or can be kicked around from Office of Sport Integrity Commissioner (OSIC) to the National or provincial sporting organization. they've had cases where the person reporting the abuse was put in the same room with their abuser to recount their complaint. horrific stuff. independent investigators who have conflicts of interest or are otherwise unsuited to the task, the list goes on

not only is the process itself and the timeline not made clear by OSIC to the parties involved, OSIC has strict confidentiality clauses that keep people from speaking while the process is ongoing. once a case is brought, there might be news stories in the beginning, but then there's silence because of this. no further bad press for the abuser or the institutions involved. and the victims can't speak about their own experiences for fear that it will be used against them in the case. they're saying that if you were involved in a criminal case, you'd have more right to speak than in these OSIC cases. [so this could be why we haven't heard more in the Soerensen case]

they said the solution is to treat these like any other human rights issues - in any other circumstance, it wouldn't be this hard to fire and remove adults abusing children. that the process needs to be consistent and more transparent and public. that there needs to be a top down, bottom up reassessment of the entire system so it can be figured out where and how it's broken. they started out investigating gymnastics and found the same stories in so many other sports - that it's an issue in all sport

OSIC was modeled after the US Center for Safe Sport which is a system they have no confidence in. this is an in depth discussion where they bring up so many facets - like how it would be important for role models and more of the public to speak up, to say they believe survivors - and not just the famous ones - when these survivors risk so much in speaking out

[elletromil]

So about 2 years ago I got three prompts from @gaiahenshin and I fully planned on writing the three of them and go midway through the second one and then life happened

But like i said, i do want to get back into writing so i am finally sitting down to finish writing the halfway done stuff!

This is set in a star trek like!au I might eventually write more into where Ba Ye is an empath and Rishan is an android.

10. hiding their face in the other’s neck

Yatou is no stranger to people being rushed into her medbay. There has even been a few memorable -- in the worse way possible -- occasions when patients had been directly teleported to a bed.

It’s not exactly part of the routine here, but it’s not unexpected either. In fact, if more than a couple of weeks pass between these kind of incidents, she -- along with the rest of the medical staff -- will start growing wary and prepare for the worse. Something which inevitably turns out to be a good thing.

This is not one of those time. The last away mission was only four days ago and everyone on that team suffered from a very bad case of indigestion when they failed to remember one very important rule from basic training. In other words: don’t eat unknown fruits native to a newly-discovered planet, no matter how much they look like Earth’s plums. Yatou had been as disappointed in them as Fo Ye had been furious.

But they’re currently in route to their next destination without any specific mission on the way. It could be a confidential one of course, but, in deference to her rank as Chief Medical Officer, Fo Ye usually gives her the courtesy of implying she might want to be sure the medbay is fully stocked when he’s under that kind of orders.

So there really shouldn't be any reason for Lieutenant Zhang to be rushing through the medbay doors, holding an unconscious Ba Ye in his arms.

Expected or not however, Yatou is still a professional and she’s already done calibrating the bed sensors before Lieutenant Zhang is even done crossing the room.

“What happened?”

“He- he just collapsed.” The slight stutter is all Yatou needs to know just how worried Lieutenant Zhang must be right now. While it would be a complete lie to say the android cannot feel emotions she’s never known him to be anything but imperturbable in time of crisis.

She wishes she could reassure him that Ba Ye will be alright, but that’s a mistake she knows better than to make, especially without a diagnosis.

Lieutenant Zhang lowers Ba Ye into the empty bed, but when he tries to move away, Ba Ye’s groans in pain and his hands grip tightly at his clothes.

“Keep holding him Lieutenant,” she orders, making a split-second decision.

It might not be proper protocol, but whatever is happening to Ba Ye, it is next to impossible for it to affect an android. She would rather keep him comfortable as long as possible.

It’s not like it seems to be any hardship for Lieutenant Zhang anyway. By the looks of it, he would never let Ba Ye go if given the choice.

“Lie down with him for now, but leave me space to work.”

The sensors need a bit of quick recalibrating to take in Lieutenant Zhang into account too, but already, she can see Ba Ye seems to be running a high fever.

That’s too much of a generic symptoms for any number of potential illnesses, but she gets a hunch as to what it could be when, even unconscious, Ba Ye tries to avoid her touch when she takes a blood sample. That and how he turns into Lieutenant Zhang instead, hiding his face against his neck with pained whimpers.

Were it anyone else, she would have dismissed the idea at once, but she remembers Ba Ye’s attempts at describing his mental impression of the Lieutenant once, like he was a spot of tangible peace and quiet.

If his mental shields are down like she suspects, it’s no wonder that he would be seeking a deeper connection with him in order to drown out everything else assaulting his senses.

Even that doesn’t narrow things down however, but if she remembers the incubation time of the Krr’ll’t flu in empaths like Ba Ye correctly, it would correlate with their last stop at the space station about two weeks ago. She hadn’t heard of any outbreak at the time, but a delegation from Ba Ye’s home planet had also arrived at around the same time and she’s pretty sure Ba Ye had met up with them.

They could have been unwitting carriers as the virus was near undetectable until the first brutal symptom hit.

Unfortunately, there’s not much she can do until the blood analysis is done except to try and keep him comfortable. And Lieutenant seems to have it covered on that front.

“Hope you didn’t have anything important to attend to Lieutenant, because you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future.” An exaggeration if it does turn out to be the Krr’ll’t flu. The treatment for that is usually fast acting, at least where allowing empaths to rebuild their mental shields is concerned. But Yatou always prefers to play it safe in her estimates when she can.

Lieutenant Zhang looks slightly affronted and for a moment there, she thinks he’s going to protest the not-quite order. She couldn’t have been more wrong however.

“Nothing is more important than Ba Ye’s health.”

[mrbensonmum]

TV Show - The Fall of the House of Usher II

In this episode, it quickly becomes clear that Roderick Usher isn't as sharp as he might have once seemed. At the same time, a mysterious woman is introduced—she’s appeared before, but oddly always in different forms.

The focus, however, is on Perry, who has been rejected by his father and aunt when he pitched what he believed to be a brilliant idea for a club. At first, their harsh response seems unfair, because from a distance, Perry's idea, though elitist, flashy, and a bit perverse, somehow fits. You’re left wondering why they dismissed him so brutally.

As the Usher family's story unfolds, you start to understand the reasoning behind this rejection, even though Roderick has already told Perry straight to his face. Either you change the world or your idea goes straight to the trash—anything less is unworthy of an Usher. Is this the secret to the family's success?

We also learn in this episode that there’s a mole in the legal case against the Ushers, led by Auguste Dupin, who is leaking information to the prosecution. Naturally, the Ushers won't stand for this. Their lawyer, Pym, immediately drafts new confidentiality agreements, which all family members and their partners must sign. This plot line alone is powerful, showing both how the Ushers operate and the wealth they use to protect themselves.

As for the mole, I have a theory, but I'll wait until I have more evidence. Now, back to Perry!

Determined to prove his father wrong, Perry throws an extravagant, orgy-like party. But just as he aims high, he falls just as hard—poor Icarus, metaphorically speaking. It fits perfectly with what happens: while the acid may have physically killed him, it was his hubris and ego that were the real culprits. Too bad for him that his brother’s wife, the person he was trying to get back at, survives, and I’m sure her story isn’t over yet.

I like how this episode focuses on Perry, while still giving us glimpses of the others—there's some crazy stuff happening, but it’s not shoved in your face. That’ll sure come later, but for now, we’re just getting small bites. The scenes with Auguste, Roderick, and Madeline working in the basement add even more intrigue.

Another aspect I appreciate is the deeper exploration of Roderick and Madeline’s past—how they became such a powerful family and built their wealth. The way this is woven into the present-day storyline adds the right amount of context just when it’s needed.

The episode also touches on the painkiller Ligadone, its supposed side effects, and how addictive it can be. I wonder if this is another reference to the opioid crisis in the U.S., where drugs like Oxycodone and Fentanyl have caused widespread addiction.

Many doors have been opened, and I’m eager to see what paths, obstacles, and dark secrets lie behind them. I’m also hoping we’ll learn more about the mysterious woman, who keeps appearing in different forms.

I’d love to see the visuals continue to evolve—the series' style, especially how it portrays different time periods, is something I really enjoy. On the surface, it might seem lavish and exaggerated, but when you look closer, you find something distinctly Edgar Allan Poe-like. I wish more shows would dare to take these kinds of creative risks.

[tobiasdrake]

We may have a new base of operations!

Back to normal or better than normal? He's rich. Maybe he installed luxury seats and-and an autopilot since Yakou doesn't know how to fucking drive. I'm so excited!

...

...

Halara's right. We light it on fire and then move into the hotel. Nothing good can come of this place, right y'all? ...Y'all?

Oh, it's drab and miserable like it used to be. Makoto upgraded nothing. Okay. This is fine.

I'm moving into the hotel. I can sleep in Vivia's room. He sleeps under the piano in the lobby so he won't mind.

Does it say if he at least installed a deluxe coffee maker? No? Okay.

I shouldn't be complaining about getting a whole-ass submarine but I--

Hold the fuck up. Did he reinstall the secret WDO hot-line phone? How? How did he do that?

I know I've said a lot of mean things about Kurumi, especially when I was accusing them of murder, but they're talking a lot of sense right now. We should use this place sparingly. Keep it and use it so Makoto doesn't feel offended and turn on us, but avoid discussing anything of serious import in this likely-bugged office.

If we need to talk confidential Amaterasu mission information, we're better off on the streets where random people might listen in than in the office where dangerous people are definitely listening in.

Honestly, boss man, it was your job to kick her out of the group. That's on you. Kurumi has earned my respect with her contributions to this investigation, and that's more than I can say for you.

Besides, a detective agency that nobody can find is good for nothing. What good are detectives that can't be hired to solve cases?

Can Vivia see Shinigami?

I have been wondering if we were going to have a character show up that can interact with Shinigami 'cause they're super spiritual or some shit. But maybe that's been Vivia all along.

Hmm... Interesting. So that's about seven years before the Forever Rain began. I wonder if the secret lab is one of the flooded Dohya District labs? It's possible they flooded the district on purpose in order to conceal it.

Kurumi got here five minutes ago and she already outranks Yuma on the Nocturnal Agency hierarchy.

I would be spiteful about this but I say shit like this about Yakou all the time too. We have a give-and-take of mutual disrespect.

YAKOU NO. WHAT HAVE YOU CONSIGNED ME TO.

Okay. Last round went to me, when I abandoned him in the sub to starve for a full day. This round goes to Yakou. He wasted no time at all selling me to Kurumi, a girl he barely knows.

HE CAN. Holy shit. He totally can see Shinigami! He's been watching us interact with Shinigami this entire time. What the fuck.

That's what I've been saying! Shinigami is a bad thing, and her involvement (and the things she knows but won't cop to) makes the WDO as a whole incredibly suspicious!

@.@ He stood up. He stood up and took out a box cutter.

Shit's about to get real. Next chapter is going to be intense.

Not impressed by the final reveal of the killer but overall there was a lot to like in this one. Fubuki's fun and I love hanging out with her, even though the writing goes so hard on the "LOL Bimbo" jokes.

I was worried partway through that they were going to go the "Chaotic Evil bomb-throwing anarchists" route once the bomb stuff came into play, but they avoided that pitfall. Though I'm not sure how much better "This was all an elaborate bank robbery" is. That was a distressingly disappointing reveal.

So many interesting things Icardi could have been and they go for two-bit bank robber. Well, this is far from the worst instance of Danganronpa's Chapter 3 curse, that's for damn sure. Nice to see one tradition remaining intact, even if the "two victims" tradition was left behind.

Don't know how to feel about Makoto. He rubs me the wrong way, but that could easily be my own internal biases against the upper class acting up. Still, between Yuma, Shachi, and now Makoto, it feels like nobody in Kanai Ward understands that you can't negotiate with a bullet. When the opponent has all of the guns, evidence and logic mean nothing.

Remember in the first Pokemon game when a ten-year-old boy dismantled a crime syndicate by winning a Pokemon battle with the mob boss? He beat the boss and the boss was like, "You have defeated me fair and square. Very well. I will quit crime forever." And then the boss dismantled his own organization and retired forever.

It feels like that's what everyone thinks will happen if they can just secure a photo of Yomi breaking the rules. Like they can march into his office and slap a picture of one of his guards roughing up a suspect down. And Yomi will look at it and go, "Gasp! Corruption is what I have become. You have humbled me, good sir. I will dismantle the Peacekeepers and leave Kanai Ward forever."

And I want to say that's an unrealistic thing for them to believe. But. Like. That's basically what every throwdown with Monokuma's Masterminds winds up being like. They always drop dead because you logicked them so hard that they ran out of clapbacks.

So. Maybe it could work?

[bisluthq]

You guys sound very victim blame-y talking about that woman… It’s okay to not really care about her life and her struggles but it’s really not easy to just “leave”. Especially with the way she was raised, the way her husband treats her, the fact that the company is apparently under his name so who knows how much money she actually gets herself, the fact that they have children together. She’s clearly in a shitty situation that would be hard to leave and blaming it on her instead of the misogynistic husband who pushed her to marry him faster than she was ready to and who forced the lifestyle he wanted on her… No one is saying she has it worse than everyone else but c’mon… I also think it’s good that they wrote this article now with the whole “tradwife” trend, it shows that it’s not as perfect as they all paint it

Oh come on lol. No, it’s not victim blaming because I simply don’t think she’s a victim of anything other than her own shitty life choices. She’s a person with a lot of choices and options before her who made and continues to make certain choices and pick certain options. Yes, her upbringing led her to think this is the best set of choices and it probably wasn’t and isn’t but it’s also patronizing af to decide someone’s culture is “wrong” especially when the person who is participating in it had and has many ways to opt out of that culture and information regarding other cultures. For one, she lived independently in NYC away from that community. So she chose to marry this guy - yes he pressured her but she… still agreed? She wasn’t kidnapped or placed into an arranged marriage or anything like that. The company is in his name but she’s got her personal influencering brand right and he clearly is happy for her to do shit she decides to do like the Mrs World competition (which involved travel without him so?? She’s not being held against her will???) like idk man. I agree that it’s important to write this story and show that this is… not a great life… even for the people actively choosing it…. but I also don’t think we should be all “oh no this mean misogynistic man” when she’s clearly agreed to all of this stuff.

She also could go and get BC without him ever knowing tbh so popping out all the babies is also a choice she’s agreeing to? She knows about BC and she can access it and she could go and get something without ever talking to him or telling him about it because doctor/patient confidentiality tbh. There are ways to access BC and pay cash or even free BC if he’s exerting financial control or she’s worried he’ll see it on the insurance docs in some way.

Shitty decisions -> shitty outcomes. That’s not victim blaming. That’s saying human beings have choices and women are full blown human beings and if we make shitty choices (like become tradwives) there’s a good to great possibility that our lives will suck.

idk man I made/make a lot of really shitty choices and they often lead to questionable outcomes and that’s because I was making bad choices, not because I’m a victim. A victim mentality is not the right approach here imo. There are SO MANY WOMEN (and other marginalized people) in the world who ACTUALLY don’t have choices or only have so called choiceless choices available to them who actually deserve our support and sympathy and mental bandwidth and who are actually victims of their circumstances that I just… don’t find this that sad? Like fafo is what happened here.

still a bit sad ofc poor Ballerina Farm lady - sounds like her life is shitty. Because of the shitty choices she fucking made tho.

also fwiw if the reporter believed her to actually be in danger this would be dangerous af to publish in its current form so either that’s an irresponsible decision or the reporter feels the husband is shitty but not straight up abusive.

[bleachbleachbleach]

I was thinking about Tech For Tousen more! If Tousen has access to it, and Seireitei has a Braille analogue (the amount of eye scream, voluntary or otherwise, seems to demand it), he could have some kind of hand-cranked steampunk Braille-type printer. And possibly one of those handheld punch things to make Braille dots on the page himself for someone to translate into kanji. (Again, who does this for him? Where is the concern for basic privacy in Gotei 13? What if he had to fire someone or was discussing someone else's private business? What about his own private info like banking or medical or just his own personal matters?) I am convinced, although I must do more research about which department it would belong to and so forth, that there is a Gotei 13 library, and perhaps someone there might translate his cookbooks and legal treatises and...IDK...whatever else he reads that isn't confidential. (I cannot turn off Library Mode, I fear.)

The first thing this ask made me think of is the Mihara Braille board:

This is a piece of Japanese American invention rather than one from Japan proper (there was a pre-existing form of Japanese Braille from the 1890s when this was invented), but Tousen strikes me as the kind of person who would be interested in and fluent in every system of Braille. (He has probably joked about being interested in learning every Living World form of Braille or equivalent writing system for the blind--"one for each year Soul Society, in its infinite wisdom and creativity, spent completely without one.")

He also strikes me as someone who would find the conditions under which Mihara's system was produced--unjust incarceration masquerading as "military necessity"-- particularly resonant.

Speaking as someone who spent three years as a research assistant for a professor who wanted a poor undergrad to a) proof his papers about value-laden science, b) suggest course readings for his biomedicine and technology classes written after 1980, and c) type stuff, from papers about value-laden science to personal/professional emails containing private information about both himself and others that a student worker had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS HAVING ACCESS TO, I can guarantee for all its ~secrecy and ~military bureaucracy, basic privacy in the Gotei is an aspirational concept. I mean, look at them. XDDDDD

There is a Gotei library, you are absolutely right!!!!! That's where the Gotei figured out Aizen had been accessing files related to the Ouken (Yamamoto talks about this in the Advance Team Arc via Worm TV, and I know I just said basic privacy was an aspirational concept, but I'm convinced that TV is their version of establishing a secure line, LOL, so it's not that the concept doesn't exist). The library also gets mentioned in several filler arcs, I'm pretty sure, because Ukitake gets banished there a few times for plot reasons (I'm pretty sure Ukitake and Kyouraku both ended up there in the Bount arc); Hitsugaya too.

Okay, I know the idea is that this is really more of a restricted National Archives than a public library (and/or some place that is one giant rotating fan short of a mid-century scifi space station), but I also kind of feel like Soul Society might struggle to separate these things reliably, so Tousen's legal treatises are in here, as are the cookbooks. And no one is sure if they're really cookbooks or if they're encoded notes, like Dr. Marcoh's notes in Fullmetal Alchemist. (Tousen's are surely both.)

Also, I went looking for a picture of the library and LOLLLLLLL THIS CARD:

New library feature just dropped: Protection against the discard pile!