#UC noun

[trolledu]

Where are the rivers and lakes?

[thepurpleglass]

Her name is TREE HUGGER!

I was not so far off with wanting to call her Green Peace. You want to tell me that doesn’t sound like it could be a pony name?

[autogeneratedkahootnickname]

The noun version of use should be spelt uce but you're not ready for that conversation yet

[universalcovers]

STUDIO PICK ⦿ UC&TS THE GREAT WAVE KYLIE JENNER

Kylie Jenner Built a Beauty Empire. Now She’s Coming for Fashion.

The youngest of the Kardashian-Jenner clan is expanding her empire with the launch of a new clothing line.

BAREFOOT AND WRAPPED in a robe in a hushed Paris hotel suite, 26-year-old entrepreneur and reality star Kylie Jenner is seated at her altar: a vanity. Her longtime hair and makeup artists—who are also her confidantes—hover around her like discreet, black-garbed hummingbirds, making imperceptible tweaks to her long dark hair and flawless skin. They chime in occasionally, telling me where they ate dinner the night before (pan-Asian restaurant Diep), and where Jenner would like to travel next (Iceland). It’s several hours before she has to be at the Acne fashion show, but for Jenner, getting ready is half, if not the whole, point. While we talk, she peers at her own reflection in the mirror.

Observing a member of the Kardashian-Jenner clan “do glam” is like watching Lindsey Vonn ski or Yo-Yo Ma play the cello. As it did for momager and snatched, the stratospherically famous family popularized glam as both a verb and a noun on its reality shows, first on E!, now Hulu, over 24 total seasons.

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[ashleysingermfablog]

Wk 16, 19th of May, 2024 Research

Divination, the way of knowing the unknown world

From the text: Divination as a Way of Knowing: Embodiment, Visualisation, Narrative, and Interpretation by Barbara Tedlock in the book Folklore 112...

Divination can be seen as an attempt to organise what appears to be random so that it provides insight into a problem or issue at hand. i.e. The Celtic Art of Divination.

Divination, which is a way of exploring the unknown, has been practised worldwide for millennia. It involves complementary modes of cognition associated with representational and presentational symbolism. Wherever a theory of divination has been carefully elicited from practitioners of the art, there is a recognition of overlapping inductive, intuitive and interpretative narrative techniques and ways of knowing. 

In any society in which mechanical divinatory procedures are combined with visualisation or bursts of intuition, researchers should be able to empirically investigate this cognitive-embodied field of practical mastery. This investigation, in turn, ought to enable them to develop meditative empathy towards acts of divination as well as a sophisticated theory of divinatory practice.

Divination is a way of exploring the unknown in order to elicit answers (that is, oracles) to questions beyond the range of ordinary human understanding. All known peoples on earth have practised some form of divination. It has had a critical role in the classical world, ancient Egypt and the Middle East, in the Americas, India, Tibet, Mongolia, Japan, China, Korea and Africa (Loewe and Blacker 1981; Peek 1991).

The means of divination are many, including water and crystal gazing, the casting of lots or sortilege, the reading of natural omens, the taking of hallucino- genic drugs, dreaming, and the contemplation of mystic spirals, amulets, labyrinths, mandalas and thangkas (Purce 1974; Grossinger 1980, 107-88; Ortiz de Montellano 1990, 144-50; Shrestha and Baker 1997; Tedlock 2001).

In some instances, the diviner undergoes physical or psychological changes so as to be able to serve as a vehicle for divinatory power, while at other times, animals, objects, and events are themselves considered signs of an external superhuman power (Morales 1995).

In the chapter: A Brief History of the Use of the Terms "Divination"and "Mantic".

The English word "divination" comes down to us from the Latin noun divinatio onis f. (divino) "the gift of prophecy, divination," formed from the past participle of the verb divinare, "to foretell, prophesy, forebode, divine the future." 

This noun is closely related to the adjective divinus-a-um, "belonging or relating to a deity, divine" (Cassell's Latin-English/English-Latin Dictionary, 1955). Cicero, in his treatise De Divinatione (Concerning Divination), informs us that the Latin word, because of its derivation from divinus, meaning belonging or relating to a deity, was an improvement on the original Greek word mantike,derived from mania (furor in Latin), which meant madness, raving, insanity, or inspiration (Pease 1920).

Plato, in his description of the art of prophecy in his dialogue Phaedrus, defended the ancient Greek interest in divinity:

Our ancestors who invented our vocabulary thought there was no shame or reproaching madness; otherwise they would not have connected the noblest of the arts, which foretells the future, with this very mania. (Quoted in Helmbold and Rabinowitz 1956, 25).

In this divinatory system, since the body of the diviner is a microcosm with its own cardinal points, mountains, plains, lakes and winds, the intuitive embodied movements are interpreted according to their location, direction, and speed. The mapping of the meanings on to a human body proceeds according to sets of paired terms which are in a relationship of dialectical, interlocking complementarity rather than dualistic opposition. 

Author BarbaraTedlock trained in folklore at UC Berkeley with Alan Dundes. She receiveda master's degree in Ethnomusicology at Wesleyan University and a Ph.D. in Anthropologyat SUNY Albany. She is Professor of Anthropologyand a Dean of Arts and Sciences at SUNY Buffalo.

My reflection:

Divination as a research framework allows me to examine how matter (runes, glass balls, soil, dust, roses and many many other pieces of matter) are used to conjure a connection to something (a fate, fortune, good will, the future, luck) that goes beyond the matter itself. What are the process, initially undertaken by ancient humans, that allow matter to be framed as more than matter. And how do other species (flora, fauna, etc) come into this equation?

[mightyflamethrower]

The sheer madness that has gripped many elite universities since October 7 and the butchery, rape, torture, and mutilation of some 1,000 Israeli civilians by Hamas murderers have shocked the public at large.

Campus craziness is, of course, nothing new. But quite novel for campuses was the sudden jettisoning of prior campus pretenses. Universities have brazenly dropped their careful two-faced gymnastics to reveal at last–unapologetically, proudly, and defiantly–the moral decay that now characterizes American higher education.

Recent news stories have exposed this rot to the world, and will have grave repercussions for higher education in the next few years.

The Nazis once desecrated the tombstones of dead Jews. Our campuses have updated that hatred. Students now tear down pictures of Jewish captives kidnapped or murdered by Hamas. University presidents do not condemn the hate-filled rallies supporting the killing of Jews in Israel, even though, according to their own safety-first ideology and prior proclamations about systemic hatred, these rallies instill a “climate of fear” in some students.

An instructor at Stanford separated Jewish students from their belongings, ordered them to stand in the corner, boasted about denying the Holocaust, and singled them out for unhinged rantings. Screaming campus activists and professors openly support Hamas even after its brutal killing of hundreds of Israeli women, children, and infants. That for more than two weeks thousands of rockets—barrages initially designed to enhance the surprise mass murdering of October 7—daily continue to shower down upon Israeli cities is of zero concern to loud campus activists.

An even bolder Cornell history faculty member bragged that he was “exhilarated” on news that Jews were butchered on October 7. A UC Davis professor threatened to go after the children of “Zionist journalists.” “Savages”, “excrement” and “pigs” are the adjective and nouns one professor at the Art Institute of Chicago posted to describe Israelis.

At rallies and protests, hundreds shout about eliminating Israel altogether; students, faculty, and throngs in general occasionally wear masks or wrap their faces in keffiyehs, as if conceding that most would find anyone identifiably mouthing such advocacy despicable. In some sense, such campus haters have become the equivalent of anti-Semitic sheet-wearing Klansmen.

There was plenty of prior evidence to predict the hate-filled, bigoted, campus reaction to the mass murder of hundreds of Jews inside Israel. The ideology of “decolonization” that today condemns Israel, and the West generally, has had many equally rancid predecessors.

Racially segregated housing reappeared years ago as “theme houses.” Effectively segregated, no-go areas are euphemistically known as “multi-cultural rooms.” Any critics who have objected to such institutionalized racism, in Orwellian fashion, have been smeared as racists.

Events that are off-limits to particular races on campus—like separate but equal graduation ceremonies or campus activities—are heralded as “celebrating diversity.”

Joseph-McCarthy-era “loyalty oaths” have returned to campus under the woke veneer of “Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Statements.” Refuse to issue such a personal manifesto—and one will suffer career consequences.

Unpopular or unwelcome questioning of left-wing university orthodoxy is libeled as “hate speech.” Dissenting views are officially censored, slandered and suppressed as “misinformation” and “disinformation.”

Face unproven allegations of “inappropriate behavior” and one can expect to lose one’s 4th, 5th, and 6th Amendment rights in any star-chamber university inquiry.

Admissions to universities, along with faculty hiring, retention, and tenure, are predicated on racial preferences and de facto quotas.

Even before the Supreme Court struck down affirmative action, universities had already galvanized to implement ways to ignore its anticipated ruling—in good Confederate nullification style.

The old notion of “disparate impact” and “proportional representation” that set hiring and admission quota on the basis of racial demographics have given way to a sort of “reparatory” admissions—in which whites, regardless of grades and test scores, are collectively to be admitted and hired in far smaller numbers than found in the general population, and certain non-white groups, particularly East and South Asians, are actively discriminated against.

The old Enlightenment notion of not stereotyping entire groups as a faceless collective, and instead seeing persons as diverse and unique individuals, has given way to sloppy sloganeering like “white privilege,” “white supremacy” and “white rage.” Campuses apparently believe that a working class mechanic in Fresno County or a minimum wage tractor driver in Dayton, Ohio enjoys more power and privilege than Oprah Winfrey or Ibrahim Kendi.

For the last few decades, the public has been willing to put up with all this madness in higher education—even as political correctness squashed free speech on campus and affirmative action descended into woke racial essentialism.

Why?

One: universities assured America that their preeminent math, science, technology, and engineering departments—along with their professional medical and business schools—remained largely apolitical, research-orientated, and meritocratic.

Those departmental commitments to excellence without political interference had in the past always ensured American dominance in global research and development.

Two: the bachelor’s degree was once acknowledged as solid proof of a general education.

Graduation from college once supposedly certified that a citizen entered the work force with historical literacy, as well as enriched by philosophy, literature, and art.

Graduates also then purportedly understood our Constitution and civic life. They were assumed to have basic computational skills, as well as being versed in inductive reasoning and in analytical reading, writing, and speaking ability.

In other words, millions of college graduates were to share common skill sets— and that reality would help to ensure a complex and moral American democracy.

Unfortunately, neither of these two arguments for widespread college enrollment is any longer true. It is unnecessary to rehearse the sad decline of the humanities and the associated general civic education courses at today’s universities. Everyone is by now familiar with the multitude of “grievance studies” courses, therapeutic studies classes, and social activist degrees that have largely replaced conventional history and literature programs. Tragically, the rot has also spread to the sciences.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, there was systemic, campus-led censorship of dissenting scientific views, witch hunts of distinguished health care professionals, and de facto suppression of open scientific debate over the safety and efficacy of vaccines and the cost-benefit value of the lockdowns.

Medical-school doctors were demonized if they argued that there was scientific support for augmenting COVID-19 treatment with existing cheap, off-label pharmaceuticals, and even vitamin and supplement regimens. Authors of scientifically-based arguments that the origins of the COVID-19 virus was to be found at the Wuhan virology lab in China were demonized and their conclusions smeared rather than refuted.

In addition, any university-related scientific dialogue over the degree of and remedy for man-made, fossil-fuel-induced climate change must adhere to strict orthodoxies. Any apostates will risk having their careers curtailed and endangered.

It is also perilous for researchers, doctors, and public-health experts on campuses to question the recent dogma that sex is entirely socially constructed rather than biologically determined.

The university-trained computer minds that fuel Silicon Valley’s high tech industry have weaponized their Internet search results to prioritize links deemed socially and politically preferable.

University graduates are also past masters at Internet shadow-banning, doxxing, blacklisting, and canceling any person, institution, or idea that is felt to be detrimental to or at odds with the progressive agenda.

As for business, law, and medical schools–they now transfer much of their finite resources away from honing professional skills to ideological indoctrination in supposed diversity, equity, and inclusion.

As a result, universities have lost their century-long credibility as guardians of free and open scientific inquiry. Any contemporary university scientist who followed a renegade devotion to disinterested science–as embodied by Democritus, Galileo, or Copernicus–would encounter the same premodern character assassination, groupthink opposition, and efforts to destroy his career.

In sum, if exorbitantly priced higher education can no longer produce either a class of broadly educated citizens, or an empirically-trained and elite scientific, professional, and technological class, then why would Americans any longer put up with universities’ unapologetic indoctrination—a sort of interference with the university’s mission so reminiscent of the disastrous Russian commissar system that had nearly destroyed the Red Army at the outset of World War II?

Reform will only come through curtailing the government handouts that fuel multibillion dollar university endowments. Such unprecedented affluence ensures lavish campus budgets that in turn subsidize racist, anti-Semitic, and McCarthyite policies and institutions.

Just tax the income from the roughly $1 trillion of America’s tax exempt university endowments and perhaps there would not be quite enough money for courses on cartoons, cross-dressing, and BLM, much less for thousands of DEI commissars and censors.

Stop federal funds to any university that refuses to ensure Bill-of-Rights protections for its students.

If the SAT and ACT are increasingly dropped for admissions to universities, then an exit version of them should be required to ensure that all BA and BS degrees certify at least a minimum competence in math, science, and general knowledge.

Get the government out of the $1.8 trillion student loan business—and perhaps campuses would understand the concept of moral hazard. Only then would they monitor carefully extraneous expenditures and begin graduating students in four years—with the skills that employers so desperately need and the knowledge that a democracy relies upon.

If thousands of big donors who give billions of dollars to Ivy League and other tony universities were to “just say no,” then perhaps grasping deans, provosts, and presidents would begin to wonder whether they could fund any more rock climbing walls, latte bars, DEI czars, drag shows—and hate-Israel courses and student organizations.

In short, colleges are now a bad deal—far too costly, too political, and too incompetent in fulfilling their mission to the country. They no longer can deliver on what they were created for, and they simply will not stop fueling things that are not just unnecessary, but downright injurious to the country, scary, and destructive.

[uncrownedmox]

Veil of Secrecy

Noun: The action of suppressing something such as an activity

Throughout the day Liana had watched Dean for signs of any other explosive memories or any other signs of discomfort but he seemed totally relaxed with Roman and Seth. Her would-be brother had cornered her once and asked about the bruise around her neck. His soft brown eyes spoke volumes of his disbelief of her rushed story of accidentally doing it herself. Larkin had come in after midway through their conversation, she said nothing. She helped Liana make lunch wordlessly but with one look she told Liana that she wasn’t buying her story either.

Dismissing Larkin and Seth’s disbelief over her cover story Liana watched carefully as Dean interacted with Roman and Seth throughout the day, noticing how as they spoke of past memories he commented more and more on them. Twice she fetched the Rosemary and Sage potion for him to drink, Seth always snarked out a laugh but Roman watched him like a hawk to make sure he drank it all.

It was late afternoon, Dean, Roman, and Seth were in the second bedroom putting together a crib for Sammy. Their male laughter could be heard echoing down the hallway into the front room and making all three women smile and making young Sammy giggle. Larkin as she pushes a toy back to Sammy scoots closer to Liana and whispers softly, “So what really happened to your neck?” Blushing as Katelyn laughed loudly Liana brought her hand up to massage her throat and look back at the hallway. Sammy suddenly lost interest in the truck he and Larkin had been playing with and moved onto some wooden blocks and started to clack them together.

Liana sighed and looked back at Larkin, “what makes you think anything happened?” Larkin looked at Sammy first then down the hallway then finally at her sharply. After a moment she spoke lightly, “Xavier was into some kinky crap from time to time. I got used to having bruises like that as well, Liana.” There was slight pain and discomfort in Larkin’s eyes but when Liana reached out to her she waved her off, “it’s in the past Lee. I have something way better now.” Nodding in hopes her friend slash sister knew if she needed to talk, then Larkin is looking at her dead on and giving her a wink.

Smiling brightly Liana knew it was just as Larkin said it was, the past. Swallowing, she shyly retold the story she had already told Katelyn. Afterward, she timidly asked Larkin her opinion, “how would you suggest I get him to do it again?” Larkin blinks in shock at her and it makes her blush but Katelyn is chiming in softly, “she is young Lark. She needs to find herself in her sexuality through experimentation, Jon as an experienced man should know this.” She feels her blush deepen, heat radiates with hot heat and she squeaks out. “It’s not like that, Katie. Due to how Mox came into his magic and other circumstances,” here her words stumble for a moment and both women look at her in question.

Taking a deep breath she tries to explain the best she can, “look at it this way. It’s not a split personality pre say but mood swings maybe? As Mox, he is serious about intimate things. Not saying there is no play or anything but you want ‘playful’ that’s ‘Dean.’' Looking at her sisters she sees Larkin is confused and Katelyn is somewhat lost. Sighing she murmured, “think of it like this. Ambrose,” looking at Katelyn because she knew the other woman would understand. “As my hard demanding lover and Mox and my gentler one. Dean is kinda a combination of both.” It takes Katelyn a moment but she only asks, “a playful hard fuck?” Larkin sputters and Liana winces at the language in front of Sammy. In the end, she only sighs and blushes, “si hermama.”

That makes Larkin cough, after she gets herself under control she mutters lightly, “I haven’t seen Jon as this Profeta or Ambrose thingy but I have heard him, and boy oh boy let me say this. That man screamed hardcore sex appeal. I mean by the voice alone I can easily imagine him as a Dom in one of those BDSM playrooms or whatever they are.” Liana blinks at her and Katelyn brings her finger up to tap her chin and questions, “si. Only he would use exotic toys.” Liana reaches for Sammy as he attempts to crawl too far away, bringing him back within their group she asks. “Can’t we just stick to something simple for now? Like handcuffs. I could possibly do those.” Larkin gives her a wide eye look then laughs, “Live dangerous sister! Besides, once you get him into some latex?”

Liana felt her eyes go super wide at the thought of Dean in latex, shaking her head. “I can’t see it! Tight jeans maybe.” Katelyn is laughing hard at her. Larkin is thinking about what she said then adds, “who cares what he wears. Just as long as he uses that voice again I would be putty in his hands.” Liana snickers at her comments but Katelyn turns the tables on their sister-friend. “Seth should invest in a ball gag for you. Since you like toys so much.” Larkin gives her an evil eye then shakes her head, “he would never. He loves how vocal I am!”

Before any of them could respond a male voice chime in, “that I do but when we are visiting one might be a good investment.” They all turn to see Seth leaning against the door jam, once they all see him he pops off the jam and heads into the kitchen. Larkin flops onto her back to watch him go and scrunches up her nose at him, he calls over his shoulder. “Don’t give me any sass woman.”

She pops back up and looks at them and they burst out laughing in pure contentment.

——————————————————————————————

The first time putting a crib together he was thankful to have Roman around to help, who was close to an expert on the matter by now. Looking at his older brother he murmured, “if Larkin is right and you Katie are destined with five-plus the three you already have.” Roman doesn’t even pause to look at him, “I am Samoan Uce. We normally come in large batches.” Seth snorts at that and snarky out, “between you guys it’s going to be a dozen or more.” Dean looks at the half-built crib knowing he would need it again in just a few months.

When they had first stepped into the second bedroom and laid out all the pieces and hardware for the crib their talk had been light and somber. Seth was however like an open book to both him and Roman, so when he had come back from the kitchen shaking his head and handing them a fresh cold beer. Dean asked softly but quietly, “she didn’t say anything to you about it?” He saw Seth was thinking about something, at the moment his younger brother was raising his beer to his lips. He stopped mid-motion and looked at him. “Who? About what?” Grinding his teeth together Dean sighed and took a drink of his own beer. Shooting Seth a haunted look after swallowing hard. “Liana, Seth. I thought she might have mentioned to you about the bruise, it is why you two have been staring a hole in me all day.”

Roman pauses in screwing a screw and innocently questions, “it wasn’t done in some rough foreplay?” Dean could actually hear the hope in his voice and shame flooded him and a blush warmed his face in an instant. Choking out as he lowered his eyes, “hate to break it to you Ro but I am not into that type of foreplay.” Seth actually laughs at his words and when he looks up Seth is looking out the bedroom door. “Here we are talking about choking foreplay and the girls are talking about using ball gags.” Dean blinks as he reaches for a screw to continue to help Roman in putting together the crib. Roman on the other hand laughs out, “might come in handy for your wife baby Uce.” Dean snorts as he finishes screwing in one screw.

Reaching for his beer and another screw as Seth snaps back playfully, “my wife is vocal, Reigns. Not my fault you don’t have Katie screaming the roof off the place.” Seth says it with such a straight face Dean can’t help but to laugh. Roman at first gives both his brothers an evil eye then just shakes his head. Then after a minute, he muses silently just how far this conversation has gotten off topic but is damned if he ain’t enjoying himself. And yet the question is still heavily lingering in the air, “so if she didn’t tell you Seth then how in the hell am I suppose to find out what happened?” Roman is reaching out for his beer and blinks slowly at him, Seth takes another swallow of his beer for good measure and puts the question to him. “Tried asking her yourself?” Rolling his eyes Dean snaps back waspy, “why detective Rollins I do believe you missed your calling in life.” Roman’s big frame is shaking from him trying to hold back his laughter and Dean is somewhat proud of that.

Seth on the other hand, “smart ass. See if I fucking help you again.” Roman finally loses it and laughs out loud, “you call that helping Uce?” Roman then looks at him, the laughter is dying out and there is a somber look in his blueish grey eyes. “Look Uce if it wasn’t some rough foreplay and she hasn't come clean on how it happened, you know.” Dean swallowed hard and nodded his own laughter, dying off. “I know Ro.” Swallowing hard, casting his eyes downward he choked out as he fought against the tears. “It had to be me, I mean it couldn’t be anyone else. They would’ve been,” he doesn’t finish so after a minute Seth murmurs. “They would have been dead before they had time to leave a mark. Plus you are the only one she wouldn’t fight.”

It broke him in a way he couldn’t voice but he managed to grind out, “it’s killing something inside of me knowing I did that to her and she won’t tell me about it.” When the crib was done, with Roman help of course Seth however wasn't done. “Listen, Dean, you’re Montana’s world. Right now you're handicapped because you don’t have all your memories.” Roman is nodding but he cuts Seth off, “I want to remember, Seth. I want to be the man she loves again.” Seth comes up beside him and slaps him in the back of the head, “stupid. You are THAT man.” Narrowing his eyes he opens his mouth but Roman hums out, “point and match to Rollins.” Fighting back actual tears he snarls, “this doesn’t help assholes.” Seth growls at him in open frustration now, “look dickward you asked her point-blank and she shut you down, right? Then fuck it and play hardball and GET your answers. We have seen you use magic to get what you want out of her before.” Seth takes a deep breath and adds, “she finds it charming, I think?” Roman snorts in amusement and adds, “more like a turn on probably?”

Dean glances between his brothers and sputters, “you two want me to force my way in?” Seth laughs out loud as he takes another drink of his beer. “I don’t think you can force her, Dean.” Fighting the rising heat on his face, choking out. “I can’t do what you’re suggesting, it’s not in me.” Roman tosses his screwdriver down in disgust and growls out, “yes it is! Dig deep and fucking find Ambrose. If you taught me one thing it's that she wouldn’t dare disrespect or lie to him.” He knows there must be confusion showing on his face because Seth is laughing like an idiot again but once he stops. “Look Deano, the fact is Montana loves you. All of you, but I agree with Roman. She is more relaxed with you whether you call yourself Dean or Mox. Just remember she was raised to respect the power and title of a Profeta.” Roman is humming in agreement and before he can question it further. “She will answer to Ambrose.” Looking at his brothers he sighed, “I hope to hell you guys are right!”

There is a smirk on both of their faces and Seth just hands him a fresh beer and asks, “So Deano let's talk about this lack of foreplay of yours.” Roman laughs grab a fresh beer and wait on his answer, “magic lil brother with Liana everything is always magical.” Roman bellows out a laugh but Seth is grinning like a madman, “does that go for the sex as well?” Dean lets a matching grin overtake his lips, “no Sethie the sex is out of this world." Seth is helping him pick up the extra bolts and asking, “like your seeing stars or more like mind-numbing, and your soul is exploded from your dick?” Dean is tossing the extra hardware in a ziplock bag but pauses to slyly ask, “Is that even possible?” Roman is rumbling, “hasn’t happened to me yet.” Smirking at their little brother, “sounds like you have a personal problem, lil brother.”

Seth laughs, “naw, not a problem at all I actually like the feeling, I recommend it! But a second-round is usually out of the question if done correctly.” Dean is shaking his head but deep down the darkness that was Ambrose was intrigued.

——————————————————————————————

It was around nine, and after the crib was done he had watched for a moment as Liana and the other girls had moved into the bedroom to make it. After dinner he watched as Liana tended to Sammy and put him down for the night, feeling accomplished and satisfied. He knew it was just a matter of months before she would be repeating this process with their own son and it made his heart swell with pride and love, so much love.

Once Sammy was down and softly snoring he and Liana retreated back into their living room. He was still nursing a beer, she still had an ice tea in her hand but once she sat down she stretched her back and it gave off a loud pop. Sitting his beer down on the coffee table he looped his arm around her neck, his fingers playing with her red-gold hair. She sat her ice tea down next to his beer and leaned more into him, smirking softly as he gently reached out to bring her on top of his lap. Her eyes light up and her hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers caressing the sides of his neck. Closing his eyes at the simple touch he let a small moan work its way free from his lips as a reward when Liana started to shift and grind herself against his hardening dick. Muttering darkly, “you’re a damn tease sweetheart.” Smiling as she moaned when he placed his own kiss on her neck.

Pulling himself back before this got out of hand and he forgot what he was after. “Sweetheart, please. I would do anything,” with heavy-lidded eyes Liana pulls back and smiled sheepishly at him. She licks her lips and whispers, “please baby. I want you in me.” Moaning loudly because her words make his dick incredibly hard and the temptation was almost too great but he stayed focused. “No sweetheart, first you get one more chance to tell me how I hurt you?” Her beautiful honey eyes snapped completely open and stared right into baby blues in total disbelief. “Dean,” shaking his head he hardened his voice a little more, “you misunderstand me little girl I am not asking this time.” Her breath catches and Dean watches in fascination as her pupils dilate and her face flushes. It’s then he realizes Roman is right, the control was acting as a turn-on for her.

There is also a hint of stubbornness in her eyes that he sees, a willingness to defy and it moves something deep down inside of him. And yet, “last chance sweetheart.” He can almost hear her heart beating against her ribcage, sees her shake her head and her wide-eyed expression. He sighs softly and lets out what little magic he has currently stored up to bubble up to the surface, he expects a large amount of pain but there wasn’t hardly any and yet her reaction. “Stop it, Dean. Please don’t hurt,” he ignored her words instead he concentrated on making sure she didn’t feel any of the excess pain. The darkness was there in an instant, cold and dark, he felt the traces of the evil that lingered within and it had him second-guessing himself. Yet the sheer amount of deep soul-shattering love he felt for Liana told him that it out negated the negative traces he felt in his magic.

Closing down his thoughts and trusting in his magic, trusting in Ambrose and the love for Liana, that the darkness would protect her and get the answers he sought he found he couldn’t completely close his mind away. He found his thoughts and magic was becoming a merger with the darkness and personality. Something told him that as Mox he was never able to accomplish this, that the only time he was able to come close to this was when he was buried deep in the woman that was sitting on top of his lap. A soft murmur of “Dean,” broke through the darkness and brought Ambrose so he was more than willing to do as she commanded. “Liana,” he noticed her eyes were heavy was magic, his own voice coated must respond in kind. “Are you not my Sacerdotisa?” The question had her jerking backward and almost off his lap but his hands steadied her from her hips, his voice low and hot, “I think you are.” Bringing her forward he placed a sweet innocent kiss on her lips. Her eyes never left his and it made his magic hum, sharpening his magic he bit out. “Then you need to fucking act like it,” her answer was to scoot her hips forward more flush against him. A soft meow sigh escaped her lips.

The knowledge that this was arousing her made him harder but at the same time steeled his resolve in getting his answers. Her hands petted him gently through his hair, lips kissing him at his neck, her voice caressing him, “Dean.” Her tone was low and filled with so much desire and passion it had him slipping a hand down and to the side of her shorts and inside her panties to see how wet she was. His fingers found pure wetness, letting his fingers caress her core back and forth then removing them and bringing them to his mouth he moaned, “I will never get tired of tasting you little girl but tonight isn’t going to be about you.” At his words, Liana’s eyes flutter shut and she gasps out, “and you call me a tease.” Shaking his head he bit back a moan and was able to choke out. “This isn't about teasing, little girl. This is about you learning your lesson.” Watching as she licked her parted lips as he thrust his fingers back into her dripping wet heat.

Her hips started to twitch and move in rhythm to his fingers, his thumb brushing her clit ever so often had her buckling hard against him fast. As he watched, she rode his fingers and had her softly panting and gasping then he withdrew his fingers. Smirking as he brought his fingers back up to his lips, sucking them clean, watching Liana watch him lick his fingers clean. Her hips twitched as she watched him, her eyes held disappointment. Her fingernails dug into the skin on his bare shoulders, her small voice begged. “Mox please,” the nickname she tried hard not to call him stumbled out in her time of need but in his state of mind right now it didn’t matter to him, “think about it my Sacerdotisa. I can bring you to that sweet edge countless times, I can even.” He pulled her hips back from his crotch and unzipped his shorts and pulled his boxers down, his cock sprung free and he moaned as he ran a single fingertip down his length. All the while he watched Liana hungrily took in the site he was presenting to her, “I can even make you watch as I find my release, by myself.” Lowering his voice even more, “you and I both don’t want that, do we my sweet young Sacerdotisa, you would much rather we both find our pleasure in one another tonight, right?” At those words, he began to stroke his dick.

He kept his strokes light and unhurried, he tilted his head back- eyes closing because he didn’t need to see Liana to know she was watching his hand intensity nor that she would reach out to overlap his hand with her own. Widening his leg stance, without a second thought he removed his hand he was pleased to feel her continue to stroke him. “That’s right, baby. Nice and slow, depending on how stubborn you want to be, will determine who gets their release tonight.” At his words, she shifts and he knows what she is seeking. Raising his hands back to her hips he harshly tells her, “don’t!” Letting his eyes flutter open he muttered, “don’t make me punish you, little girl.” She whimpers and he feels her free hand on his chest. Her voice is small and filled with so much desire, “my Profeta. I want you, please.” A moment of soft ghosted words, “I am so wet for you Profeta Ambrose.” The sound of that name awakes something so hard and dark in him that he jerks her hips forwards. “Show me Sacerdotisa, show me just how badly you want me.”

Watching as she pushes off of his lap he can only moan as she quietly slips off her shirt then her bra, taking in just how swollen her breasts were he whispered, “your breasts, little girl.” his eyes lit up as she cupped herself and gently pinched her nipples hard, “Is this what you want Ambrose?” Her voice is timid and so soft he growled, “what I want is your ass bare and your legs spread open wide before me.” Her eyes glowed with her magic and he watched as she slowly stepped out of her shorts and solid white panties then make her way back to him. Hand on her elbow he yanks her body to him, moving to give her nipples a quick lick before laying her down onto the couch. Spreading her legs wide, watching her pant in desire, letting his eyes roam over her as he gazes at her core and the dripping mess she is presenting to him. Slipping to lower himself to her sloppy core he used both hands to pry her open and took a moment to stare in appreciation. Licking his lips because she is so soaking wet it almost makes him spill in his boxers. Then she is crying out softly as her hips jerk in his hands, “Ambrose please.” Humming he lowers his head but instead of a lick he takes her clit in hard long suck, it has her back arching, her moaning louder, her legs snapping around his neck in an instant.

Her hands come to bury themselves in his hair as she bolts upright when he flicks his tongue against her clit. The action causes more moisture to gather in his mouth, chuckling as he pulls back and she snarls down at him. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, savoring her taste on his tongue he moaned as he let his finger dance at her entrance. Watching as her hips started to buckle harder and her moaning became louder. Letting his finger dip just barely within her drenched pussy, letting her work herself harder onto his finger just to the point when she was about to explode then he withdrew his finger. This caused her to snap, “no please. You just can’t.” Letting his magic glow in his eyes, coming to lean over her he snapped. “This is your lesson Sacerdotisa, not mine.” Shifting onto his knees he lets a hand go back to slowly stroking himself, Liana meows at him and thrusts her hips upwards, “give me what I want, Sacerdotisa. Give me my answers and I will give you your pleasure.”

There is a tightening deep down in his balls and he knows he is almost done for this round. Leaning down to place a kiss on her lips he murmurs, “I am about to cum Sacerdotisa. I had hoped when I did so it would be inside your hot wet pussy but I suppose you're letting your pride deny the both of us.” Her cry is so soul-deep that he almost stops this game he has started, but one looks at the bruise on her neck and continues. Images of her on her knees come crashing down in his mind and he knows in an instant that’s how he will finish this round. Shifting to stand up he reaches out and grabs her under her elbows watching as she reaches down to stroke his dick he rumbles out, “on your knee’s Sacerdotisa. I want your mouth on me when I cum and you will swallow every last drop.” Her answer is to moan and to drop to her knees, the moment her mouth opens and engulfs him he is lost. Letting his head fall back as she sucks him dry he can't help but thank the Gods for her, for making her his.

After a few moments and she swallows she lets out a deep moan and cries out, “Ambrose please it hurts, so badly.” When he tilts his head forward again and looks down at her up-tilt face he moans at the sight of her. Her lips still have traces of his cum on them and there is such a desperate look in her eyes that his dick seems to forget that it should be going soft instead of hardening again. With a tight voice, reaching out to caress her hair. “Dry your lips Sacerdotisa,” watching as she licks at her lips, he moans again. He also notices her hand making its way between her legs, “I don’t want to punish you further Liana but you’re tempting me.” Her hand stills and she blinks up at him shyly and he nods in satisfaction but she manages to sob out, “please Ambrose it hurts.” Yanking her up he snarls out, “ you think I am enjoying this Liana? I want nothing more than to sink deep into you. The need to fuck you is driving me to a point of madness I didn’t know was possible.” Her body is shaking and he knows he needs to end this soon; she is too young to have been thrust into this lesson.

She moans, her voice is broken but she leans against him and murmurs, “yes please.” He tries to be kinder as he holds her, as he brings her in for a kiss. “Please what Sacerdotisa?” A moment of silence then a bare whisper, “fuck me, like before.” Her voice is so soft but her eyes are dark and lost to her need and desire. He growls in frustration he pushed too hard in one direction and it would cost the answers he wanted. Murmuring, he still tried, “like before?” She could only offer a whimper, “Sacerdotisa? Answer me, like before? Did I fuck you last night?” Her voice is painful and full of need, “ anything please just.” Raising his hand to cup her throat as he must’ve last night he asked, “did I punish you as I fucked you last night Sacerdotisa?” Shaking her head, she moaned and pressed harder into his hand around her throat, “just a dream, then you.” He backs her up until she hits the couch and falls, but she keeps his hand around her throat. “Then what baby?” He asks as he falls with her, careful not to hurt her, she instantly opens her legs for him and he blindly thrusts in.

She cums around him before he can bury himself all the way within her. Her voice is airy as she moans, “You, oh Gods you feel so good, Ambrose.” Leaning over her smaller body, “I am going to fuck you hard and fast baby. I need to cum again.” She sobs and her magic flutters in her eyes and her hips are thrusting against him, “you didn’t know me. Didn’t believe I was yours. You didn’t even wait.” Her words were mere sobs and her fingers were digging into his ass trying to get more of him within her. Grinding his teeth together he tries to fight against the pleasure and concentrate on her words but it was unless her body was too hungry and needful and he was too deep in the feel of her to care about the words she was groaning.

Moaning as the sounds of her cries of pleasure filled the room, he is grunting and her sobs of pleasure were louder than normal because he had driven her to such an edge. Then his balls were tightening once again, reaching out to cup her face he gave her a hard kiss as he surges harder into her. Murmuring hotly against her lips, “I am about to cum Sacerdotisa.” Then he feels it as she coats his dick and it triggers him to give a few chaotic pumps before he explodes within her. He is aware that she is mumbling something and he suddenly knows it’s the blessing, feels it when her body greedily takes every drop of his seed.

A few moments later, they both are still panting when he mumbles brokenly, “don’t ever make me do that again Liana.” Her breath is still coming out hot and jagged but she whispers shyly, “and if I want it like that again? Popping his head and raising himself onto his forearms he stares down into her magical glowing golden eyes in wonder and finds himself laughing. “Baby if you want fucked just tell me, I don’t need to go commando on your ass.” Her face goes flush but she reaches up and murmurs, “and if I want it like that again?” There is a moment, looking into her eyes before it registers with him what she means but when he figures it out he moans, “seems like my little girl likes a different form of play than I thought.” She only hums beneath him and places a kiss on his collarbone. He places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

It takes him a moment to gather enough strength to carry her to the bedroom and place her gently on the bed. As he shifts down beside her he quietly asks if she wants to wash up and she moans sleepily that she would in a minute he chuckles and curls up into his arms and blinks at him. “So we can do that again, like soon right?” Moaning he couldn’t help but smile, “next time I won’t cave in so soon little girl. Think you can handle it?” Her body stretches out against his and she wraps her arms around his neck, “I want to be the best Sacerdotisa for my Profeta. I want to serve him in all ways. The best ways.” His heart thunders at her words but she shifts in his arms and he realizes she is waiting for him to say something. Reaching out to caress her hair he mumbled, “then one lesson every night. No cry-offs baby.” Her answer is a soft snore.

Laughing lightly, he simply laid next to her petting her bare hip, and thought over their play. It never occurred to him to explore Liana’s sexual preferences before now, not that he himself had a wide appetite, no out of three of them that had always been Seth. Granted he and Roman had been the two married men and had lived vicariously through their younger brother exploits, then he had met Kayla and became domesticated. At least that’s how Jess and Renee had described it.

So, he had learned a few things tonight, Liana liked to be dominated and pushed to her limits. It told him several things about what must have happened the night before, smiling as he buried his hand in her hair his mind thought over how demanding his little lover was. Renee had liked to be teased and to liked her teasing light but Liana was hard and full throttle. Placing a light kiss in her hair and chuckling as she snuggled closer to him he mused at just how well she took her lesson tonight. Her words are whispering in his mind.

You didn’t know me- didn’t believe I was yours! You didn’t even wait.

Glancing down at her sleeping face he tried to piece her words together, to understand her desire soak riddle knowing the answer to his question was in those words if only he would tease them apart?

Just a dream, then you.

As he yawns, he knows for sure that he ain’t telling Roman and Seth about this. Cause Seth’s remark about coming so hard that your soul is exploding from dick isn’t that far off the mark.

You didn’t even wait. Just a dream.

Mumbled words said in a need to be satisfied but fuck it something was nagging him in the back of his mind. Closing his eyes, fingers combing her hair, body going lax as he starts to drift off then it hits him like a mack truck. You didn’t even wait. Just a dream. Followed by Renee’s question of ‘You don’t know what this will do to you, you honestly want to remember the years of torture you went through in that place?’ His breath caught in his throat as he jerks awake and bolts upright. Glancing as Liana sleepily moved to curl up around him.

Fucking hell!

Slipping from the bed quietly he slipped into the shower to wash the dread away. In the deep of the night, he had woken up from a dream, a memory, and had taken it out on Liana. He could feel his body wanting to shake but he supposed something, something from his time in the Tunnels was preventing him from doing so. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself under the hot water and let his mind chase the rest of what Liana had revealed to him tonight.

He didn’t jump when Liana slipped into the shower with him and wrapped her arms around him, swallowing hard he whispered, “did I force you, Liana?” He had forced himself to stare straight ahead and not turn to hold her but at his question, he felt her push herself away and snap, “Dean, look at me.” When he couldn’t bring himself to do as she requested she growled, “I said look at me, Profeta Ambrose.” Her words were laced with her magic and he felt his soul respond, his eyes lowering to her face as he waited. “You're my Profeta. I could never deny you anything, my heart, my soul, my body is yours to command. What happened last night was unexpected but did you hurt me? No! Did you surprise me? Yes! But I enjoyed it just like tonight, it was a new kind of pleasure and I liked it very much!”

Searching her eyes deeply he saw the truth in her bright beautiful eyes and moaned but nodded in acceptance. They finished their shower in silence and slipped back into bed, he was almost asleep when she whispered. “I really did enjoy it, baby.” Burrowing deeper into the sheets and into her he sleepy tells her, “we will see about that after you take another lesson or two?” With that, she hummed and shifted to spoon against him, and sleep claimed them both.

——————————————————————————————

Sacerdotisa Ruby looked once more at the glass container that held the blood absorbing poppet, blood that was three quarters the way gone, it had been sad to kill the little nino but at this point with his mother was failing in controlling Profeta Ambrose and that made his life’s blood was more valuable to her that his life. Now a little of that life’s blood would power the poppet and let her gain power over the mother.

“I hope his death was a necessity Ruby,” glancing back, Ruby felt disgusted for the taller man, regardless if he was of her blood or not. “You have no power to question me nino,” of her blood or not the boy thought he was better than her, more powerful than her and she wouldn’t stand for that much longer. Humming, it was the man behind her that was the only way to get Liana back into the City, “do you bring me news of your sister nino?” Stilling when she feels hands at her hips, nimble fingers undoing the sash at her waist, she forces her body to respond to the seeking fingers and after a while, she feels a release glide down her thighs.

Hands bunch up her skirt and bend her at the waist in this action she lets her mind drift back to better times, when her brother ruled the City with an iron fist, to when he would take what was his and leave her spent and sometimes blooded in a heap on the floor. The boy behind her now is not even a pale comparison to the man her brother had been all those years ago regardless of that part of her brother's blood that ran through his veins.

There had not been another like her brother within the City since his death, that was until Ambrose. Jericho had been molding him nicely; he by far was still weak compared to her brother but more powerful than Bray and more than satisfying between the legs. That night in the cemetery even though he had not put any effort into their coupling had her body alive in ways she could only dream of now. Closing her eyes she let her body remember that night, trying to give something to the nino in exchange for the news that he would give her. Remembering Ambrose’s cock deep within her had her clenching around his dick and moaning, praying silently that the coupling would end quickly she chanted a blessing softly.

Feeling him empty in her, feeling him lean over her back, panting hotly against her ear as he whispers. “I have it on good word Sacerdotisa Rudy that Profeta Ambrose is taking my sister in like some kind of fucking stray. If that’s the case and if he so much as touches her I will kill him. No matter how much you like his dick.” Snapping around to face the nino she lets her hand fly, smiling icily when sees blood flow from his lower lip. “You will do no such thing, Bray is useless. To access the pools I need Ambrose. Therefore I need to restore his memories and his magic so he can fuel the streams.” She watches as he licks the blood from his lip, his eyes glowed a deep brown and for a moment she is reminded of her brother.

A smirk forms on his lips, “one chance Ruby. Don’t deny me in the matters of Liana, she will choose me and if you like I will let you watch when I take her to the pool and fuck her.” Laughing she can’t help but notice the lack of confidence in his eyes, “why would she choose you when she has someone like Ambrose? Someone that possibly could match her instead of leach off her? Someone that can give her untold pleasures instead of one-minute delights. I raised her better than that!” His scowl was dark but she pushed on, “you are not your father's son, Baron, your just a man playing pretend and the goal you have set forth isn’t in your league.”

Adjusting her skirt and sash she threw the last insult at him again, “my daughter would never choose a pitiful powerless man like you if she has taken Ambrose in between her legs, even if she was only to have pleasure from his pinkie finger it would be more pleasure your whole body could give her and trust me, my daughter will want her desires filled to the fullest.” With that, she swayed away from him and his thunderous expression.

——————————————————————————————

It’s around eight am and Dean knows he is dreaming again but there is no fog and the dreams don’t seem to reach in and tear at his very soul, he thinks for a moment it's because there is a small warm hand shaking him awake that or because his own Sacerdotisa has coated him in her magic, in her body, in her love and he is damn if he wants to explain that cause Sacerdotisa don’t share their magic and they sure as hell don’t love.

But mine does. It’s time to remember.

There is an image of a heavy metal door and when the whispered words of remembering hit him the door isn’t quite blown open but cracked open enough a person could walk through it. Memories not of his Sacerdotisa fill him but of Renee, when they met, their first kiss, the gentle way she had begged him to make love to her after he had returned from his first deployment, their wedding day.

Then there are memories of the day he stepped foot into the City the first time. Of Kai being struck down, of Cassidy dropping to his knees. Of the way Nox’s screamed. Then there is the biting memory of pain as Jericho starts his torture. As Sacerdotisa Lita demanded her lessons of pleasure.

Then the rapture of casting the spell ended Jericho. Seeing the pure horror on Sacerdotisa Lita’s face as she watched. The bliss for the next two months as he couldn’t feel his magic then pain as it came rushing back into his body. As Profeta Punk eased him back into it. As the Army finally found him and Cassidy, they proceeded to drill them for the nearly two-plus years of hell they had lived.

Then the shock awaited him back in Vegas. The rejection from his wife, at the feel of his magic, the cold hard truth at the feel of the new life that grew within her. A life that he had no part of making. Then the heartbreak of coming to the decision of leaving it, HER, all behind and return to the hell that had imprisoned him for two years.

The shock of seeing Roman and Seth stepping off of a chopper and into the City. The pettiness between his brothers and Cassidy. Then a letter from Montana, an offering of fudge. Sad honey-filled eyes haunt his dreams and make his cock hard all at the same time, then a blessing being cast. Pleasure filling his magic but his body staying empty- then there was a snap in his head.

The feel being encased in sweetness. The smell of oranges and the images of a young beautiful woman is reaching for him. And for his magic. As he sinks into her, her magic demands his and it makes him hard in new ways. The beautiful woman is moaning for him, coming all around his cock.

A soft sweet voice is calling out to him, “Dean, baby you need to wake up.” The voice calling out to him belongs to the voice that is moaning for him but it’s all wrong. He wants her to want him as a whole, and he knows (somehow) she is calling out to his weak pitiful side. “Don’t call me that,” there is amusement in her voice. “I cry your pardon Profeta Ambrose,” letting a smile form he knows she is playing now. She likes to play, play hard- hard and fast. Likes to fuck the same way too, “I need to teach to be dirtier baby.” She laughs as she whispers in his ear, “you can make me dirty anyway you want me.” Those words have him moving and rolling on top of her in a flat second, his sleep is long since forgotten.

Sadly, her eyes are laughing at him and her body is fully clothed from him. “The fuck Montana?” Her eyes are wide but her voice is questioning, “Dean?” Narrowing his eyes down at her he reminded her, “I told you not to call me that.” There is a pause and he wonders why she would ever call him by his middle name in the first place? His magic sparks at his right arms and it has her surging up in his arms, “Mox, baby?” Her voice cracks and is questioning him but he doesn’t dwell on it, instead he lowers her back down onto the bed and kisses her roughly.

There is a sound deep within the house that finally pokes his desire fogged mind and he pulls back, “Montana what’s?” Her eyes take a moment to focus and then she is snapping out from under him, “you’re a bad boy distracting me like that.” Smirking as he stretches out in the bed he lets her eyes drink him in, “Mox baby stop, we can’t.” Her voice is uncertain and she is nibbling on her lower lip, letting a hand rub his abs, watching her watch him. “Why not? Is Sammy awake yet?” She shakes her head and whispers, “Lt. Colonel Cena is in the front room, waiting on you.”

Sighing in disappointment he rolled to the beds edge and took his time in getting up, glancing up when Liana brought him a pair of boxers and shorts he smiled and nodded his thanks. Slipping them on when he was standing, he noticed Liana had slipped out of the bedroom and he listened as she started talking lightly to Sammy, glancing around he called out, “babe where’s my hiking tee.” The room, even with the air on, was hot and he wanted to wear as little as possible, she called back quickly, “dresser, left side, three drawers down.” Finding a white tee that had the sleeves cut off he tossed it on and smiled as his dog tags clinked together with the crystal necklace he wore.

Walking out into the living room he noticed that the former Major looked tired and beat all to hell and back, “sorry for the wait sir.” He felt Liana come up behind him, heard Sammy call out his morning ‘dada’, and felt a smile on his lips. Watching Cena nod in silent greeting he sat down and cocked his head when Liana plopped Sammy into his lap, “may I get you anything Colonel?” Cena smiled and shook his head and Liana nodded and went to the kitchen.

“I am sure that Rollin’s and Reign’s have explained the basics to you, LT Moxley?” Jon felt his core shift, sitting Sammy down on the floor he leaned forward, and with his magic brimming in his eyes he asked, “just tell me how the fuck do I get my City back from that greedy ass bastard?” A moment later LT Colonel John Cena smiled and leaned forward as well, “I am so glad you asked.” He could not stop his magic from sparking in pleasure.

——————————————————————————————

This story didn't want to be rewritten. I would nit pick it to death. I this point I am simply giving you this. Sorry. I am tired of staring at it. Plus with a new 4-month-old kitten in the house. Not much is getting done these days.

[cazort]

100%...and nowadays these live USB's are very feature-rich, a far cry from when the system size was limited by one beatable CD or even DVD.

P.S. Is it Linuxes? I say Linuces, like "matrices", following the convention of Latin -ux nouns pluralizing into -uces like lux/luces.

I talked about the problem of Windows system requirements being too damn high before, and how the windows 10 to 11 jump is especially bad. Like the end of Windows 10 is coming october 2025, and it will be a massive problem. And this article gives us some concrete numbers for how many computers that can't update from win10 to 11.

And it's 240 million. damn. “If these were all folded laptops, stacked one on top of another, they would make a pile 600 km taller than the moon.” the tech analysis company quoted in the article explains.

So many functioning computers that will be wasted. And it's all because people don't wanna switch to a Linux distro with sane system requirements and instead buy a new computer.

Like if you own one of these 240 million windows 10 computers, Just be an environmentally responsible non-wasteful person and switch that computer to Linux instead of just scrapping it because Microsoft says it's not good enough.

[dr-lizortecho]

still laughing that Max broke the first rule of uc work ‘never use proper nouns unless you know where they belong’

[trolledu]

[tiffdawg]

Curriculum Vitae: Prologue

Gif: @javier-pena​

curriculum Vitae: noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one's life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 1.8k

Rated: M - rating will go up | Warnings: Period-typical sexism, angst, mild language.

Story Summary: After leaving Colombia and retiring from the DEA, Javier Peña steps into a new role as a university professor. A woman with multiple degrees and more books than you can count, you meet Javier as you similarly struggle with the future of your career. Despite your odds, the two of you find something you need in each other during uncertain times.

A/N: So, the idea of Professor Peña has been on my mind lately (is this because I, myself, am pursing a career in academia? who’s to say ) and this multi-chapter, semi-slowburn, enemies/idiots-colleagues-friends-lovers story is the result. Just in case, I wanted to be clear that this story won’t be about a student-teacher dynamic – I went in a totally different direction. This will be a playful, sexy romance full of dreamy images of our favorite DEA agent turned university professor set against the backdrop of Los Angeles of the 1990s. I also want to note that UCLA is about to take some hits in this story, specifically the sociology department, but it’s just for the plot. I’m a UC alumna myself so mad respect any bruins out there! Anyway, I’ve already fallen in love with this story and I’m so excited to share it with you!

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

... . ...

Prologue

Checking your reflection in a nearby window, you straightened your blouse and mentally prepared yourself to knock on the imposing door in front of you. Your top was sticking to you in all the wrong places, probably from your nerves as much as the dry heat of August in Los Angeles and you really wished the university would be a bit more forthcoming with the air conditioning. The chair of the sociology department usually opted to pass along information via a memo, phone call, or through the office’s shared secretary, the latter being his preferred method. You knew it wasn’t good when he called you personally to ask for a meeting.

Steeling yourself, you rapped your knuckles against the old wooden door and listened for the brusque enter from your boss.

“Good morning, Dr. Campbell,” you announced politely, “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes! Please come in.” He gestured to the overstuffed leather chair across from his wide mahogany desk and you sat yourself on the edge of the seat, crossing your legs at your ankles. His spacious office was lined with rows upon rows of well-read books and shelves stocked with awards and accolades. He was an intimidating man on a good day, but this was torture. You watched attentively as he cleared his throat and shuffled a few loose papers around on his desk before finally looking up at you through the thin wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, seemingly intent on drawing out the awkward interaction for as long as possible. “I’m afraid I have some rather sour news for you, miss.”

Gritting your teeth, you ignored his gaffe; whether the man never remembered your proper title or just refused to acknowledge it, you’d never know, although you had your suspicions. At that precise moment, it was the rest of his statement that unnerved you.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Concerning what, exactly?” you prompted, hoping he would take the bait and get this over with already. He was a man known for being a bit long-winded. 

“Well, your tenure,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Or lack thereof, pardon my candor.”

… . …

You needed to get off that godforsaken campus.

Hastily unlocking the door to your office, letting it fling open without much concern for the wall behind it, you stomped in with a little less decorum than you usually maintained at work. You threw open your bottom desk drawer and dug out your crossbody purse and large tote, tossing both carelessly onto your desk, and then proceeded to shove a few of the books and notepads strewn about your cramped workspace into your bag. You would work on your lectures for the upcoming quarter at home over the weekend, too upset to stay at the university for a second longer than you absolutely had to.

As you made your exit, the framed degrees you’d proudly hung on your wall caught your eye. You could’ve sworn they were glaring at you, taunting you.

“Useless. All three of you.”

… . …

“You are an exemplary lecturer, instructor, and researcher, and the university is fortunate to have you among our prestigious faculty,” Dr. Campbell droned on, clearly trying to soften the blow.

“However?”

“The department cannot offer you a tenured position at this time.” He rested his forearms on his desk, his bony fingers forming a pointed steeple.

You drew in a deep breath of air and dug your nails into the soft flesh of your palm, sure to leave ugly crescent moons. “I’m not sure I understand, sir,” you ground out. “This is my sixth year as an assistant professor. I was offered this professorship with the understanding that it was a tenure-track position and last year when I was overlooked for tenure, I was well-assured that this year would be different.”

The man across from you sighed again, clearly not enjoying the fact that he had to deal with an angry woman. “I am aware of the situation, lest you forget I was the one who offered you this position in the first place.”

“Then can I ask what’s changed?”

“In all honesty, the matter is out of my hands,” he placated. “This directive is coming from the dean’s office. Beyond our department, the school of social sciences is offering fewer positions this year and diverting funds elsewhere, hopefully, if I may be so bold to suggest, to services beneficial to our rapidly increasing student population.”

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to roll your eyes at his explanation. “And are competent, contented professors not beneficial to our students?”

“Well, the sociology department is being gifted a rather impressive visiting lecturer for the year.”

… . … 

“Beneficial to our students?” Beverly scoffed into her end of the receiver. If there was anyone in the world you could count on to be even angrier for you than yourself, it was her. Not only was she your best friend in Los Angeles – actually, at this point, probably the world – but she worked in student services and understood university politics even better than you did. “God, I can’t believe that pretentious asshole had the gall to say that to you.”

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled, precariously cradling the phone to your ear with a shoulder as you set the timer on your microwave oven. 

“And I’m still shocked that they’re doing this to you again,” she continued, “The department promised you tenure. Literally, promised. I remember you telling me word for word what was said at that meeting last fall.”

“Oh, don’t worry so do I.” You sniffed at a second container of leftovers, making a face when you decided the crispy tofu and Chinese broccoli hadn’t survived a few days in the fridge nearly as well as the veggie curry. “I think I etched that conversation into my brain because some part of me knew this was going to happen.” You resealed the container and moved to throw it away, only making it halfway across your kitchen before the phone cord pulled taut and nearly drugged you backwards. “Shit, hold on.”

You picked up the receiver just as your microwave beeped and you were fairly certain Beverly was laughing at you. She’d been on enough calls where you actually did overextend yourself and drop the phone to know exactly what had happened. 

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Sulk, probably.”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like you,” she challenged. “I’ve worked at that university for nearly a decade and to this day you’re one of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated professors I’ve ever met.”

“Bev-”

“No! Scratch that. One of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated people I’ve ever met anywhere in my entire life.”

You chuckled as you stirred the remnants of your red curry and jasmine rice. “What would I ever do without you?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she scolded, “But that’s alright because I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you quipped.

“I’m going to ignore the sarcasm, this time, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You knew not to argue when she was using her mom voice on you.

“Now, listen carefully. You’re going to throw yourself into your work, as you are so prone to doing, and make this your best year yet. I’m talking professor-of-the-decade worthy.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” you said with a laugh.

“You know what I mean! And I’m not finished so stop interrupting me.” She paused to make sure you were done being cheeky. “You’re going to make this your best goddamn year of teaching, research, mentorship, and whatever else it is you do, and if they don’t offer you tenure at the end of it, you’re going to remember your worth and then go where that’ll be appreciated. UCLA be damned.”

You were quiet for a long moment as you considered your words. They pulled at something hidden inside of you and were simultaneously encouraging and deeply uncomfortable. “I can’t just-”

“You can. You’re free to do whatever you need to do for yourself, and you should. There’s nothing tying you here. No family, no kids, no tenure-track, that’s for sure.” You swallowed around a lump forming in your throat and ran a hand over your face. “You still there, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” you said, switching the receiver to your other ear. “Yeah, and you’re right. I know you’re right.” 

“Of course I am.” You could practically see the grin on her face. “If they don’t have the money to make you an associate professor, at the very least, then you should go somewhere that will.”

“That’s the best part. I’m pretty sure they do. The department is bringing in a new visiting lecturer so you can’t tell me they don’t have some discretionary funds.” 

“Really? Who?”

You moaned. “One of the guys who brought down Pablo Escobar. It’s a fucking publicity stunt.”

“Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” There was a crash on the other end of the line followed by an ear-piercing shriek. “I’m really sorry babe, but I gotta go. Henry’s going to be home soon and I’m making dinner and the baby’s crying and I think the other two are trying to kill each other. Again.”

“Oh, no. Go take care of your family. I’m sorry I called – I didn’t realize how late it was.” 

“No, I’m so glad you did. I was worried when you didn’t show up at our usual spot for lunch today. Anyway, I’m sure this will all work out in the end somehow. I’ll see you Monday.”

You hung up the landline, silencing the dial tone. You scanned your empty apartment, your eyes dancing between the random stacks of books, your cluttered dual-purpose kitchen table/worktop, and your makeshift bedroom partially partitioned from the rest of the studio. You exhaled and skewered a few rapidly cooling vegetables onto your fork as you thought over Beverly’s words. Your whole life fit inside these four walls. There wasn’t anything tying you down besides your hope that your hard work would finally be rewarded. While that should’ve been reassuring, it just tore at your already broken heart.

This couldn’t be all there was for you.

Something had to change.

 A spunky bark pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. “Is it dinner time for you too, Sunny?”

A second bark and a wagging tail confirmed your suspicion.

Well, at least you weren’t entirely on your own.

... . ...

Thanks for reading! 💕

... . ...

Tag List: @leo-moon​ @readsalot73​

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Hak Ja Han, Founder of Universal Peace Federation (UPF) declared she is “Female Jesus”

Hak Ja Han is the ‘Female Jesus, the Only Begotten Daughter of God, who is the Lord of the Second Advent’ – Korea, October 24, 2015

Hak Ja Han also claims that the 2,000 years of Christianity were to find the Only Begotten Daughter.

I assure you that the interpretation of her speech by her son, Hyung Jin Moon,  is better than any Korean. My jaw dropped when I saw what Hak Ja Han said in Korean. She clearly said she is the “Lord of Second Advent, Dok-Seng-Nyu (female Jesus).” Koreans call Jesus “Dok-Seng-Ja” (male), Dok-Seng-Nyu means for female Jesus. So, she is calling herself female Jesus who is the LSA. –  Kumy Karam

▲ Hak Ja Han as she made her declaration in Korea on October 24, 2015

__________________________________

A professional Korean to English translator: “I know this probably makes little sense to you, but the up shot is that ‘returning messiah’ in this noun phrase modifies ‘only begotten daughter’. In fact, this rule is used all the time and frequently when putting together nouns or noun phrases in Korean. So, to a Korean reader or listener, the meaning is clear. The way we can express the relation between these two nouns in English (where they are in fact noun phrases “returning messiah” and “only begotten daughter”) by inserting by making one a subordinate phrase: “the returning messiah, who is the only begotten daughter”. It is very clear that this relationship pertains between the two nouns, and it is very clear that it is not something else.”

__________________________________

We now have Kumy Karam, a Korean native speaker, and another professional Korean-to-English translator, who both confirm that it is undeniable that Mother, Hak Ja Han, said she was the Only Begotten Daughter of God and the Messiah on October 24. 

This of course, is new theology which is at odds with our traditional UC belief that Christian history prepared for Father, Sun Myung Moon as the Lord of the Second Advent, who restored his bride (Hak Ja Han) from a fallen lineage.

This confirms what Hyung Jin Sean Moon has been saying. Some years ago, Father’s jaw dropped when Mother told him he had a stained lineage. She thinks he stained his lineage with the Six Marys and that she saved him from sin. So now she proclaims that the 2000 years of Christian history was in preparation for her, the Only Begotten Daughter of God, the Lord of the Second Advent. Father was not mentioned.

Hak Ja Han also talks about the Han lineage, not the Moon lineage. She no longer lifts up Father and his lineage. Instead she teaches the greatness of the Han lineage and that she herself is the messiah.

!! Hyung Jin Moon translates the ‘Female Jesus’ speech of Hak Ja Han from the Korean. !!

He was known as Moon Yesu, ‘Jesus Moon,’ the ‘physical Jesus’ in the 1950s.

__________________________________

http://damalhae3.blogspot.com/2015/10/20151024.html

참부모님 특별집��� 참어머님 말씀 전문 (2015.10.24)

... 그러나 전지전능한 하나님은 기다릴 수만 없어요. 그래서 기독교 2천 년 역사는 성령의 부활로 인해서 성신 역사에요. 그 말은 무슨 말인가 하면, 독생녀를 찾아 나오는 기반이었다 하는 것을 알아야 돼요. 알겠어요? (박수) ...

그것은 하늘이 다시 오시는 재림 메시아 위해서 기반을 닦으신 거였어요. 예수 그리스도 그 당시처럼 무지한 인간들로서 하늘을 아프게 했던 그런 역사를 남기면 안 되었기에 민주 세계를 이룩하게 하셨어요. 신앙의 자유, 그것은 재림 메시아를 맞기 위한 기반이었어요. 그런 반면에 하늘은 아까 내가 얘기했듯이 기독교 기반은 독생녀를 찾아 나오는 길이었다. 말했어요.

왜 우리나라가 한반도, 한국이란 이름을 가졌을까요? 우리 역사를 보게 되면, 고구려 찬란했던 역사를 갖고 있어요. 그래서 그다음에 건국된 고려는 고구려 따서 고려라 했어요. 이씨 조선은 고조선을 따서 조선이라고 말했죠. 그렇다면 한국 역사에 있어서 찬란했던 그러한 문명한 때가 있었다는 말이 되는 거예요. 그렇죠? 여러분들이 참 공부할게 많아요. 그러나 안타깝게도 한국의 역사는 중국과 일���이 많이 뭐라 그럴까? 왜곡시켰어요. 그리고 없애버렸어.

그러나 하늘의 섭리는 독생녀를 찾아 나오는 섭리가 있었다는 거예요. 4천 년간 이스라엘 민족을 통해서 독생자를 탄생시킨 하늘은 독생녀를 준비 안 했겠어요? 예수님 돌아가시기 전 기원전 400년에서 800년 사이에 동이 민족, 동이 민족이라고 알아요? 동이 민족은 중국 하곤 좀 다르죠. 동이 민족 통한 한씨 왕국이 있었어요. 찬란한 왕국이 있었어요. 그게 시경에 나오게 되는데, 그 왕조가 위만에게 망해서 바다를 건너왔다. 그것이 한반도와 일본으로 번져 내려왔다. 하는 얘기에요.

이 말이 중요한 게 아니고, 하늘이 마지막에 재림 메시아를 통한 참부모의 탄생을 그렇게 아무 허접한 나라를 통해서 할 수 있나요? 사탄권에 당당하게 문화 민족으로서 자랑할 수 있는 그러한 민족이나 나라를 찾아 나오시지 않았겠어요? 그런 점에서 결론적으로 말한다면 한반도는 재림 메시아 독생녀 탄생시킨 나라이기 때문에 (박수)

모든 종교는 근본 되시는 하늘부모님을 부모님으로 모시는 자리에 나가야 돼요. 그 말은 이 세상에 나타난 종교 중에서는 세계 평화 통일 가정 연합 통일교밖에는 없다는 얘깁니다. 그리하여 아까 인류 문명사를 얘기했는데, 영국도 책임 못했어요. 그렇기 때문에 다시 미대륙으로 건너간 기독교 문명권은 아시아러 찾아와야 돼요, 아시아에 찾아와서 일본을 거쳐서 한반도 한국에서 뿌리를 내려야 된다는 말입니다. 그래서 내가 조심스럽게 여러분들에게 얘기하는 것은 우리의 책임이 얼마나 중요한가 하는 것을 알아야 된다. ...

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 50.34 - Magdalene, Cam vs Strathclyde

Finally, we have reached the last match of the quarter-final stage. Which is not to say it isn’t excellent, and that I don’t love it, but it has to be said that it goes on for a long time. All good things must come to an end though, and with Magdalene vs Strathclyde tonight we will complete the marathon 10-week double elimination double qualification bracket that has seen some brilliant contests, including all four of Mags’ and Strathie’s previous appearances in this round.

Magdalene blasted away Birkbeck by a score of 240-140, and then were pipped to the post by Warwick in another high scoring bout. Strathclyde meanwhile have won and lost a pair of low-scoring, but enthralling matches. One might have Magdalene down as clear favourites because of this (and their average score is 45 points better than Strathie), but I wrote the Scots off last time and they pulled off an impressive win, so I’m not going to set my stall out quite so bullishly this time around. 

Starr-Marshall fails to repeat what had become one of my favourite twists to the contestant intro of all time (admittedly, not a difficult bar to beat when I generally consider the geographical flourishes - eg ‘I’m from Sunny Sydney, Australia’ - some of them give as a tad annoying), by not referring to himself as the Sassenach, perhaps considering it too playful for such a serious occasion. 

DEROGATORY•SCOTTISH

noun

an English person

Anyway, let’s not bother with the rules, here’s your first starter for ten...

Magdalene captain Lawson has been on excellent form since the restart, and continues this with the first starter of the night, a long-winded one to which JMW Turner is the answer. A hat-trick of bonuses on years with consecutive digits followed, as did another starter for Lawson, and a two more bonuses on weird fiction (though they miss out on China Mievelle, whose book The City and The City currently sits on my TBR pile). 

Payne negs the next starter, but Whittle, wearing yet another fantastic jumper, narrowly misses out, giving Henry IV Pt II rather than Pt I. Byrne then took the next two to give Magdalane a commanding lead. Strathclyde would need to get in amongst the points soon if they were to have a chance - they’ve not scored more than 135 points since the first round, and Magdalene already have 90. This soon becomes 100, but the Cambridge quartet struggle with a set on space mountains.

The next starter is missed by Byrne, and Welsh is finally able to get Strathclyde some points. He is nominated by his captain on all of the mathsy bonuses, and manages two of them, before snaffling another starter. Perhaps they’re not out of this after all...

Paxman pronounces ‘isenthalpically’ in such a bizarre manner that it appears to confuse both teams - beyond the level of confusion that the question itself would induce - and neither of them get it. Payne chimes in with a second neg, which Whittle misses, but he makes up for it with the next starter. Their bonuswork isn’t really up to scratch though, and they fail to close the gap any further.

The music starter is Mahler, and Welsh is the first to recognise this, but still they struggle on the five pointers, and Davies stops their steady streak with the fastest buzz next time out. Another dodgy delivery from Paxman has the contestants narrowing their eyes, but Welsh figures out what he means and grabs his fourth starter of the evening. After the next set, which they blank, they’ve only answered 5 of the 15 bonuses, but two clutch buzzes from Welsh drag them back into contention and they find themselves only five points adrift!

The buzzer race on the second picture round is won by Whittle, but he is wrong with Caravaggio, and Lawson is right with Velasquez. We’re back out at twenty-five points difference. This becomes twenty with a Lawson neg, and then ten as Whittle exacts his revenge from the last question. Holy questions this is a great game - we’re back at fives!

An incredibly impressive buzz from Byrne on a complicated maths question seizes back the initiative for Magdalene, who rattle off a full set of bonuses (far easier, it seems, than some of the ones that Strathclyde have been getting). Another buzz from Byrne probably seals the game for Cambridge, and the gong tolls soon after. Phew, what a game.

Final Score: Magdalene, Cam 185 - 125 Strathclyde.

A fascinating game that, which can be broken down into three very odd thirds in terms of scoring.

Magdalene 100 - 0 Strathclyde

Magdalene 15 - 110 Strathclyde

Magdalene 70 - 15 Strathclyde

I thought Strathclyde might just pull off another shock there, but some excellent play from Mags at the death sealed it for them.

I’ll see you next week for the first semi-final, featuring two of Imperial, Balliol, Magdalene and Warwick.

If you’ve enjoyed this and want more Uni Challenge content then you can check out my Patreon, where I’m doing retro reviews of the 2015/16 series

[cvbuilder123-blog]

Little Known Ways to Free CV Builder

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For what skills to spotlight in your CV, see here.

 Basics

 Do's

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 Ø  Don't embody something before faculty unless it’s skilled expertise (for example, I embody my analysis expertise, however not that I graduated valedictorian). It doesn’t matter however spectacular it's. nobody cares. solely embody high school if you haven’t gone to school.

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 If you’re simply out of college or are operating for <10 years, one page.

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If you're positive your business accepts a lot of pages (such as after you apply for a tutorial position at a university), then it is longer. This should be obvious, however fill the page. will|you'll|you'll be able to} say relevant clubs you were an area of at university otherwise you can add a lot of bullet points to what you probably did at your jobs. however don't have the page blank.

 Should your resume be creative?

 This depends on what quantity is in your resume and therefore the business. there's such a lot in my resume that I can’t build it that artistic and keep it at intervals 2 pages. grade data not power. However, if you've got the area to create it artistic, a resume that has some color will extremely assist you stand out.

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 Do not copy any of those. Your resume is AN extension of your temperament and your accomplishments. you must use these for inspiration, maybe select a Word example, then pay each day making one thing you prefer that you’re happy with.

 A sample resume we tend to created supported the model used at the UC Berkeley Haas graduate school Sample Resume #1

 A sample wonderful one-page resume, courtesy of Christian Correa (thanks for sharing, Christian!). If you haven’t done quite he has, you are doing not want quite one page. Sample Resume #2

 More artistic resume! however don’t have a Profile section. (This resume is from KickResume.com)

 Another artistic resume! For a lot of verify the site

 Clean and simple!

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 Here area unit some awful resume templates. (They’re Word documents you'll edit!) we tend to hope this helps. They get a lot of artistic to the correct – you'll add graphics/colors if you want!

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

[livingmyanxiety-blog]

Well, Hello There

Well here we go.

Greetings. My name is Taylor and I have an Anxiety Disorder with Agoraphobic Tendencies. Now before I go any farther let me give you some definitions you might need to know about what I just said. 

Anxiety. Noun. A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

Agoraphobia. Noun. Extreme or irrational fear of entering open or crowded places, of leaving one's own home, or of being in places from which escape is difficult.

Most people nowadays know what anxiety is because the discussion of mental health is much less of a taboo, but agoraphobia is less known from my own experience discussing it with others. My agoraphobic tendencies lean more towards the fear of crowds and not being able to escape places easily.

Brief Backstory: I've had an anxiety disorder for almost 10 years, since I was 15. It was undiagnosed at first and my original diagnosis was depression. I went to talk therapy for 3 years and that got me through High School. When I went to college right out of high school I was able to cope for about a year and then I has a breaking point in my second year. I left school to figure out what was going on with my brain and my doctor prescribed me an anti-depressant. This helped, I still had episodes of anxiety, but I felt that I had stable base to work off of to feel better. I decided not to go back to my college and I enrolled in classes at my local community college and I was able to function and feel like I was normal again. I got my Associates Degree in General Studies with an Emphasis in Theatre and I got accepted to UC San Diego. I felt like I was back on track and ready to get my Bachelors Degree and start working. 

August 2018 came and I moved into an apartment by myself in San Diego and was taking 2 classes during the summer session. I was supposed to go to class but I felt like I wanted to pull my hair out and rip my teeth out and claw at my head. I knew this wasn’t right so I went to urgent care and they gave me Xanax to get through the really hard parts. This was in no way the final solution but a temporary solution. I went home and saw my Primary Care Doctor and we adjusted my medication so I felt like I had a more stable base. This sort of helped.

Throughout my fall quarter, my apartment flooded 2 different times, worked a part time job as a Shift Supervisor at a Halloween Store, and went to school with a full workload. I got through my fall quarter and finally had a break to go home and destress. While I was home, around New Year’s I found out that my apartment had flooded a third time and I needed to move apartments. I had amazing friends and boyfriend who helped me move all of my belongings from one apartment to another. I started my Winter Quarter and was ready to work on a show. My first couple weeks were going pretty well and I was having a really great time at rehearsals for the show I was working on. 

There was a weekend that I got to go home and go to a Motocross Race with my boyfriend and his family. It was a great day and we had so much fun, but on our way home I started feeling like I had static in my brain. I wanted to hit my head so badly and put my head through a window, so when we got back home my boyfriend took me to the Emergency Room. 

I won’t go into detail but my experience was not pleasant. They barely communicated with me, had me in a paper gown, on a gurney in a bright and loud hallway, with a security guard watching me. After a restless night of barely sleeping, the social worker pressuring me to make a decision of what to do, being told I wasn’t allowed to go home or wear my own clothes, and finally being told I was going to be transported in an ambulance, I was taken to a different facility to be checked out by a psychiatrist. 

The new facility was cold but everyone was really nice and wanted me to be able to go home. After being there for less than 20 minutes (mostly just signing paperwork) the psychiatrist came to talk to me and we talked about school, graduation, my boyfriend, my parents, and what I had been doing the night before. After about a 10 minute conversation he surmised that I was fine, didn't want to hurt myself, and the best place for me was at home with family. I was at this facility for less than an hour and then got to go home. 

His final diagnosis was that I had Severe Anxiety with Agoraphobia. 

So, my point: I’m tired of having to pretend I’m ok, or not post what I’m really feeling because it’s too sad or depressing. I’m dry, self-deprecating, sarcastic, brutally honest, and swear like a sailor. Welcome to my Anxiety-stricken life. 

Also, blanket trigger warning, cause an entire blog about Anxiety will obviously have some bad shit going on. 

[theouterspaceplace]

WIP chapter 5 Simon Sez,from the tipping point

WIP Chapter 4.5 Simon Sez Simon was supposed to go back to the Factory to have his Central Processing Unit pulled and scrapped today. They were going to install a new one, but it would not be called Sinon Sez. Simon was in the first batch of the latest and most modern model of Synthetics on the market, but as always the first batch of a new model had some quirks, minor problems, buggy software etc. Simon had , developed a personality trait rarely seen in any Synthetics. His special flair was being the Joker. Telling funny jokes and stories was his calling. He could of been on the Stand Up Comedians tour, but right now he was stuck in traffic at trying to get back to the UC campus to pick up his employer, So while he was sitting in traffic on the Bay Bridge heading toward Berkley he was practicing his lines, Unlike most synthetics Simon was capable of creating new content. There were others that could fuse two jokes together or change an existng joke by changing the noun and/or verb with something similar. But not Simon, Simon was writing his own jokes, original material. That might not sound like anything special, but it was, It was very special. We had stumbled onto Simon near the Synthetics Factory Outlet store. Tex and I were pondering our lunch choices when Simon walked by, head lowered and mumbling incoherently. These actions would usually cause attention and not the type of attention any one or any thing would want. It could land a Synthetic in a holding cell or jail. Then after a trial without a jury , the sentence was almost always death by CPU extraction. The body was reused and a new CPU was installed. It was not the fact that he was muttering and stubling, he looked like someone who had lost their dog, or their wife ran off with the mailman. He looked like he was miserable. Synthetics were not suppose to have emotions. In fact after the Model III, all Synthetics had a built in emotion suppression unit hardwired into the CPU. (After the model 3 meltdown as the media was now callng it, basically 100 Synthetics went offline, but continued to operate. They met at the Central Park and divided up into 20 groups of 5 and proceeded to pull the fingers and arms off of 337 humans before Security rallied to the site and quickly and efficiently eliminated all targets. How this happened we will never truly know but the speculation and rumors ran rampant. But the best minds of the time believed that due to a manufacturing error some models did not have their Emotions button properly installed and approximately 10 Synthetics went rogue because their emotional state became unstable. During that time period it wsas believed that those ten recruited another ninety and were comunicating via ultra low waveleng radio pulse comunications and using an unpubished frequecy that they had hijacked from the FCC itself, /By encrypting the pulse signals, nothing was ever heard by Security in the Appendage Conflageration. ,The whole event lasted only 2 hours and by ther middle of the following week it was almost entirely forgotten as a new Active Shooter crisis took center stage . But the one thing that was learned from this untimely attack was the need to control the Synthetics emotional state. Now the monitors and emotional suppressors were hard wired , So what was the matter with this Synthetic? Usually the overworked and never paid synthetics didnt mind going into the shop for upgrades and updates. Tex usually let me do all the talking but had been the first to see Simon and thus felt incclined to take direct action. He walked perpendicular in front of the door to the Synthetic Outlet Store thereby blocking Simon from entering. This later turned out to be a godsend. Simon had become our secret weapon. We went to great lengths to acquire Simon "As Is". and had to assume the liabiliy if anything went wrong, Some of the paperwork we need ed for this to happen did not exsist, but with a little sleuthing I found a student of mine who graduated about 7 years early and who now owned a small but successful chain of document production, Usually these were preprinted forms designed and sold to major corporation all over the world. So at 12:45 am we were meeting our guy at the local cafe parking lot and for $1,500 cash we got all he forms we needed, It just so happens that my student's graphics design company also had the City's contracts for forms and mass mailings. So the forms we received were the actual forms currently in use. Paid a law clerk to submit the documents and well la. We had an emancipated Synthetic at our service