#and i'm not a subject expert so i can't tell for sure

[certifiedsexed]

Could you give me any insight on the safety of these feminine hygiene wipes I bought? I’m not sure how to tell if they’re going to give me a yeast infection or something lol

(Note: I cannot see these well enough to describe them for others, sorry about that.)

Now, admittedly, I can't see these super well and I'm not an expert on the subject but I do have some thoughts.

The first red flag here is perfume. Perfume is almost always a genital irritant. (Which may be why it's listed as fragrance instead. Not sure.)

Also, lavender oil usually contains alcohol, which is also a genital irritant. (Both can cause vaginal dryness and mess with your pH, which can cause...you guessed it, yeast infections.)

Some of the other ingredients aren't always irritants but are definitely possible irritants and can cause yeast infections. (Propylene Glycol, Glycerin, etc)

Those were my first thoughts! But then I noticed the "Since 1920s" text and got a really bad feeling. The 1920s and a company propping themselves up for their "feminine hygiene products"? Not a good combination.

So, I looked up Modess. Turns out they're a proud offshoot of Johnson and Johnson and are partially still affiliated with them. Talk about flags redder than the communist flag, wow.

Johnson and Johnson is particularly infamous for their lack of testing and ignoring when their products were literally killing people and that's not even getting into the racism and misogyny. [Seriously. It's horrific.]

Now, beyond that, I looked at the Modess website. They sell loads of "feminine hygiene products", designed to eliminate odor with many questionable ingredients.

With that in mind and the fact that people who use things labeled as "feminine hygiene products" have been shown to have higher rates of all types of infections and even cancer, I wouldn't trust this shit any further than I could walk [which isn't far!]

I could absolutely be wrong but these genuinely seem sketchy as fuck and some of these ingredients definitely seem like a cocktail designed to give people, especially those with sensitive pHs, at least a yeast infection.

Sorry it took awhile to respond and sorry if I rambled a lot but I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions. <3

[howtofightwrite]

Was reading through your torture tag and noticed a lot of stuff that was being said seemed to contradict things that were said on the scripttorture blog... do you have any suggestions on how to clear things up? Im not sure which things to trust

And you're asking us, because they've posted once in the last two years?

I'll admit, I have a fairly low opinion of them, and that's not directly their fault. For years, one of their fans, would regularly send some pretty incendiary asks our way. In fact, some of the less hostile ones were answered, and may be the posts you were looking at. Understandably, the ones simply accusing us of being torture apologists, demanding we redirect all our asks to their blog, or insisted that we should sit down and shut up, did not make the cut. With that in mind, please understand, I'm not going to go digging through their blog to refresh my memory, so some of this might be slightly skewed by the aforementioned deranged fan.

Look for the blog that does not constantly contradict or misrepresent their authoritative sources. Which is to say, if you actually pay attention to Shane O'Mara's work, it's basically what we've been saying all along.

If you're unfamiliar, O'Mara is a Neurologist who was (last I time I checked) working at Trinity College Dublin. He published a, frankly fascinating piece, called, Why Torture Doesn't Work, in which, he set about trying to answer why torture is an ineffective tool for intelligence gathering. O'Mara also had the misfortune of being the only expert who said anything close to the perspective Scripttorture wanted on torture.

An open secret about torture is that it is completely worthless for getting accurate information. This has been widely understood for centuries, if not millennia. O'Mara's question was, “why?”

It turns out, that the neurochemical trauma associated with torture, seriously interferes with your ability to accurately access information. For example: If you're being tortured, you can't tell your torturer where you planted the ticking bomb, because your brain literally can't access those memories.

Torture is evil. Yeah. No shit.

And, this is where ScriptTorture stops. “Torture is bad,” and Jack Bauer is an incredibly unrealistic fantasy, end of story.

Except, this is not the end of this.

Now, generally speaking, I don't blame anyone who wants to get off the ride here. Torture is an unpleasant subject, and wanting to stop at, “oh, it's evil,” is entirely reasonable... unless you want to write on the subject, or if you do political analysis and need to understand why people break out the torture implements.

More than that, this is where my academic background in political science actually comes into play. I'm not saying this as an Eagle Scout who had a couple overly enthusiastic hand to hand instructors when I was a kid. This is (part of) what I studied in college, and I have kept an eye on it since then.

If torture didn't work, you wouldn't see state-sponsored torture pop up repeatedly throughout history. It would not be one of the favorite tools of dictators and despots. However, because it does, and it is, simply saying, “it doesn't work,” isn't instructive or meaningful because it's clearly untrue. Someone is finding value in this, so it becomes important to understand what they are doing, and why they are doing it.

When you torture someone, the information they provide is basically madlibs of whatever leaked through their brain. They want the pain and stress to stop, and they'll say anything they can to make that happen. That often takes the form of what they think their torturer wants to hear. O'Mara's research does explain why they don't simply cough up the truth.

So, why do it?

Torture is a very labor intensive process. You (as an individual) can't, realistically, torture multiple victims at a time, and it is a very drawn out process. Some elements can be automated, your torturer doesn't need to be present at every moment, but they're going to spend hours, if not days, working on one victim. Worse, this is actually a technical profession. It's not like you can just pull in anyone off the street and get the results you want. (Though, technically, this doesn't seem to be as true, however, amateurs do have a shocking capacity to screw up torture. So, the point remains valid.)

The value of torture has almost nothing to do with the victim. It's about the message it sends to everyone else.

Torture is about mass coercion of the population. When you are the state (meaning, the government), and you torture someone, you are telling your citizens that you are willing to do the same to them, if they oppose you.

State-sponsored torture is specifically a tool to suppress political engagement. It is, quite literally, state-sponsored, domestic terrorism.

This even holds true in cases where the state employs torture to extract confessions from criminal suspects. The message sent into the general population is that dissent of any kind will not be tolerated, and that the state has the willingness and power to turn these tools on you if you draw their ire.

I get that this is outside of ScriptTorture's area of expertise, and in fairness, I probably would not have studied this with any intensity, if I hadn't taken multiple classes on revolutionary theory.

Torture from private organizations (which is to say, organized crime, and religious institutions, though cults and some other groups might fit this description as well), follows roughly similar patterns. These tend to do the same things, discouraging dissent, and establishing the organization as having power over the population (or community.) (The technical term would be to “establish capacity.” Which is to say, the organization's capacity to enforce its will. The same term applies to states, though in those cases, the state's capacity is often overestimated by its population. It's only when it starts to falter, for example through military defeats or serious civil unrest, that they really need the capacity boosting part of this equation.)

Zealotry or stupidity can create situations where you have a torturer (or, more likely, someone in a position of power ordering the torture) who believes that it is effectively compelling the truth from the victim. This (or amateurs) can easily lead into a distinct problem, which is that all of this has diminishing returns. Torture one person, and you send a loud, clear message. Torture ten, and all you've added to it is that you're willing to keep going. However, as you start stacking up the victims, you do start sending a new message to your enemies, that being, you're going to get to them sooner or later so it's in their best interest to respond now, mobilize and retaliate proactively, before you get to them. This means that a state which leans heavily on torture can easily instigate the civil unrest that exposes their limited capacity leading to a political death spiral. Alternately, if the state does have the capacity to put down the resulting unrest, it further reinforces their position (which does happen with depressing frequency in the real world.)

You're also going to create new enemies in the friends, family, and loved ones, of the people you tortured. This means that any organization that relies on extensive use of torture will, eventually, start tying a noose around its own neck. (Granted, there are a lot of social dynamics that I'm skimming over here, so it's not exactly as simple as “if the state tortures lots of people, it will result in increasing unrest.”)

If you want a partial citation for the above, you can (ironically) find it in a podcast interview with Shane O'Mara, when he explained why torture has been employed repeatedly through history. (Specifically I think it was episode 15 of Your Welcome, by Michael Malice. Though, I'm not 100% sure off hand.) Though that doesn't cover some of the more in depth elements I just discussed. Some of this is coming from a textbook on revolutionary theory I can't locate (it disappeared in a move a few years back.) Though that was more interested in the general structure of a state destabilizing into internecine conflict. Ironically, my preferred citation on torture, Fear up Harsh by Tony Lagouranis is mostly uninformative in this case, because his experiences were on the ground, rather than from a structural understanding of what his job was really doing. However, he does illustrate my comment about amateurs making even more of a mess, both through personal experiences with a few, and also through the eventual trajectory of the invasion and occupation of Iraq.

But of course, torture is evil... again, no shit. Was that really a question? And, I'm apparently a torture apologist for having a structural understanding of why evil people do evil things. Cool. Evil people don't do evil things because they're evil, they do them because they gain some tangible benefit from those acts, and they do not care about the consequences to anyone else. If you ask someone, “why do people do this?” and their answer is, “it's simple; they're evil,” that person is lying. They may be lying to themselves, but they are lying to you.

Why do people use torture? It's a lot more complicated, and unpleasant, than you'd expect at a simple overview.

-Starke

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[siderealscribblings]

I do not think I'm going to be able to make the anniversary update of Games of Divinity since it's really long/intricate/I don't want to rush it but here's Furina discovering RPF Imagine Fics for the soul.

________________________________________________________

99 years, 10 Months, 21 Days

Neuvillette could tell Furina's mood by her footsteps long before he could sense her emotions and the short, staccato of her heels on marble outside his door heralded the coming of a storm. Sure enough-

Bang!

Furina all but kicked down his door, slammed it behind her, and stood in front of it fuming for a moment.

"...yes?" Neuvillette asked, glancing over the top of his legal brief as he waited for Furina to calm down enough to give voice to her simmering rage.

"I would like to propose new legislation," Furina said, hand clenched around a flimsy paper booklet. "Regarding the production and dissemination of...of...pornography in this country!"

"...pornography," Neuvillette echoed flatly, watching Furina pace back and forth in front of his death. "And what sort of...pornography would you be referring to?"

"Only the sort that could morally bankrupt our country lead impressionable young ladies down the path of lurid vice!" Furina insisted, clutching the booklet in her fist. "I-I have discovered a brochure detailing all manner of inappropriate fantasies about notable public figures; figures of great power and dignity that should not be reduced to mere...titillation!"

Furina's face was crimson, but it seemed that anger wasn't the only cause. "May I see?"

"No!" Furina snapped, yanking the booklet away from him. "N-No, you just have to trust me; don't you trust me, Neuvillette-"

"You have used that particular trick on me too many times; I'm not falling for it again," Neuvillette sighed. "Has the...subject of these fantasies raised a complaint?"

"Well...no, but-"

"Is this something being mass-marketed and sold against the subject's will?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but-"

"Is there anything particularly slanderous or obscene about the text?"

"I don't know; you're the legal expert you tell me!"

"Then let me see it."

"No!" Furina hissed. "You must take my word for it that i-it is most...out of character."

"Out of character?" Neuvillette huffed. "Say no more; I will erect a guillotine in the city square at once."

Furina's eyes narrowed. "I should never have taught you to be sarcastic."

"Well, the villainy you teach, I execute," Neuvillette said. "It's about me, isn't it?"

Furina's wide-eyes told a story her stammering mouth tried to deny. "Y-You?! Ha...how silly. I-I'm sure you have your fair share of admirers like those...wretched women in the Iudex Enthusiasts Guild, but-"

"But coming down on a group of bored hobby writers is bad for publicity," Neuvillette said, rubbing his eyes. "You are already catching flak for that 'no pets shall be named after Lady Furina' edict you passed last month."

"Excuse me if I don't want to share a name with a pot-bellied pig!" Furina hissed. "Are you suggesting that you're fine with people writing all the intricate ways they want you to-"

Furina opened the book. "Softly nibble the corner of their neck whilst grinding against their-oh I can't read anymore!"

"So long as it isn't rubbed in my face, I think it's tolerable," Neuvillette shrugged. "Loathe as I am to paraphrase Rex Lapis, being famous means being the subject of gossip...some of it lurid, of course."

"Why did I even appoint you Iudex if you won't Iudex when I want to!" Furina huffed, throwing her hands up. "Fine! But when the population of this country plummets because people are too busy fondling themselves, don't come crying to me!"

"I promise I won't," Neuvillette said, watching Furina storm off and slam the door behind her.

___________________________________________________________

"Imagine Iudex Neuvillette peeling the robes off his broad shoulders, his eyes taking in your form as you spread out on the bed as he says "Now I will show you what happens to impudent young ladies who misbehave in my court"...ugh, he would not say that..." Furina muttered, glaring at the pages of the pamphlet as she sat tucked up against the headboard of her bed. And yet, despite her muttered criticisms, she had pored over all three pamphlets she had found tucked in the seats of the Opera.

For research, naturally.

[transmascaraa]

Reader has a subject topic that brings them anxiety anytime it comes up (example - genitalia on biology, a math topic they were never able to grasp and feel like an awful awful idiot who can't learn anything whenever it comes up, etc)

And the sillies notice the readers expression changing to one that isn't so much relaxed anymore

[by sillies I mean characters btw 🫶 I'm just dum and think it's cute]

multiple characters headcannons!

you hate those words...

characters: gaming, xiao, tighnari x gn!reader

author's note: idk i js felt like adding xiao ANYWAYS so basically the reader has some trauma with a specific sentence/some specific words and whenever they hear them, either directed at them or not, they get reminded of that trauma, AND THE SILLIES KNOW YOU WELL ENOUGH. so have fun reading<3

✷ Gaming

-he would notice it IMMEDIATELY.

-to him, he would notice it after the next breath you took after hearing those words.

-some random strangers on the street were arguing and that specific traumatic sentence was mentioned.

-your mood and facial expression just drastically changed.

-and cuz he's the good bf he is, he took you to stand by the side with him.

-he comforted you and reassured you that it's in the past now, that it doesn't matter anymore. and ofc that they're just some words, not even directed at you.

-you're getting lots of hugs and kisses afterwards dw

-overall, he'll be willing to help you in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Tighnari

-also notices it pretty quickly.

-you're just so different.

-and he knows that the sentence is himself, so he knows when to look at you and make sure that you're okay.

-again, walking on the street and hearing some strangers arguing and that reminded you of your trauma.

-he notices it fast and discreetly takes your hand in his, whispering you that it's okay and for you to breathe.

-he lets you know that it can't hurt you anymore, it's in the past and won't happen again, because you have him with you.

-the sentence is just some words, some words are just some letters, some letters are just some sounds, and some sounds should be ignored and not paid attention to if they make you uncomfortable.

-that's at least his opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☆ Xiao

-not an expert at noticing it, but he does after like talking to you directly or just let some 5mins pass.

-this time, you were watching a movie and the characters were fighting.

-that sentence.

-you maybe tell him you're going to the bathroom, or to get yourself something like water, he will notice that SOMETHING is wrong.

-he'll be patient with you to tell him what's bothering you.

-and after you do...

-first of all, he doesn't get it why the fuck some words would make you feel anxious.

-but after you explain to him that it's trauma-related, he's willing to help you.

-his way of comfort is just some hugs and cuddles, with "it's okay" here and there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tbh really nice

i love how i did tighnari for some reason

it's cute

| @keeyisbored | @mariaace <3

[redtsundere-writes]

mmafighter!sukuna ryomen x femcoach!reader

Part 3: Medusa's Snake

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Yuuji, Choso and Sukuna are brothers. Toji is a nice parent. Praising. Warnings: Cursed words. Mentions sexual harassment. Word Count: 2696 words.

Author's Note: I just finished and I could finally write this *cries happily*

Night was slowly falling over Tokyo. The small, cozy ramen bar stood out with its warm lights and glowing signs, The air was filled with the captivating fragrance of bone broth bubbling in the pots. The dim lighting enhanced the skill of the chef, whose expert hands moved gracefully as he masterfully prepared the noodles at the counter. The murmur of diners, mixed with the sound of steam and noodles cooking, created a gastronomic symphony.

In the middle of the stage, Yuuji, Megumi and I were there to relax after another day of hard training. The delicious broth and the comfort of carbs soothed the stress we had accumulated over the past few days. Sukuna and I have been training restlessly for the past month for the fight that was coming up in a few days. Toji Fushiguro is a superb Muay Thai fighter, a real threat to a boxer like Sukuna. We had to be prepared.

"My brother didn't let you rest?” Yuuji asked me when he saw me stretching my neck with some help from my hands.

"Yes, he told me not to even dare to think about resting because he would kick me out of the gym,” I replied. The stress in my neck came back from just thinking about his tantrums.

I understood that he was anxious about the fight. He had an important title to defend since every fighter in his weight class and in back-to-back weight classes wanted it. Sukuna is just a king protecting his crown, but this was already too much. All his tension was slowly creeping up on my back. I had to admit that his dedication is admirable. While we were eating a delicious bowl of ramen without worrying about ruining our diets, Sukuna was still training in the empty gym.

“Sukuna always acts like this. It only gets worse with every fight,” Megumi explained without looking away from his bowl. 

“Doesn’t he have a hobby or something like that? If he keeps tensing his muscles like that, it could be bad in the long run.” I knew from experience. 

“He does, but we can't help him with that.” Yuuji shook his head. 

“What? Why not?” I asked. I was his coach, I should know. 

Yuuji looked for a second at Megumi as if he was hesitating whether to tell me or not. It was little moments like these that made me understand why they were friends despite having two completely different personalities. They could communicate with just their looks and a few gestures. I wish I had a connection like that with someone. Yuuji let out a sigh and went back to eating, completely evading the question.

“Why don't you want to tell me?” I asked him directly. 

“It's just… It's not like he gets relaxed by it. It's more like a good luck ritual,” he explained reluctantly. 

Good luck rituals are common in any sport. There are soccer players who sing an anthem before taking the field, baseball players who wear a special pair of socks, and fighters who tattoo talismans on their backs. I was used to that kind of thing, and I'm sure Yuuji was too.

“There's nothing wrong with that,” I said. 

“It is because Sukuna doesn't know how to hold back,” Yuuji replied.

I could sense that he wanted to avoid the topic. I didn't know exactly why, but he must have had a good reason to do so, so I decided not to insist and continue eating, but we were no longer talking. It wasn't an awkward silence, we were just tired of the subject and needed to relax.

“Yuuji, she's his coach, maybe you should tell her,” Megumi commented after finishing his bowl.

“It's unnecessary,” his friend answered.

“Gojo knows about it, I think she should also know in case Sukuna tries something, don't you think?” With that comment, I knew that this was no ordinary ritual. 

“You're right.” Yuuji sighed before looking at me. “The thing is… Sukuna must have satisfying sex the night before the fight for good luck,” he finally blurted out. 

"That's not so weird,” I commented before shoving another mouthful of ramen into my mouth. "Why didn't you want to tell me? You didn't want to embarrass your brother?” 

“Because that's why he and Choso don't talk to each other anymore.” Yuuji started with the story.

Days before the night Sukuna became the champion of the light heavyweight weight class, the three brothers had dinner with their parents. At this dinner, Choso excitedly introduced his fiancée. She was his love and pride, his better half. According to Yuuji, she was a very pretty and nice girl, and as usual, Sukuna avoided her like the plague because he was not interested in meeting her at all. 

Since the championship was held in Las Vegas, Choso and his fiancée stayed in the same hotel as Sukuna because Choso wanted to show her how cool his brother was (despite being a complete jerk). The night before the fight, Choso woke up in the middle of the night and realized that his fiancée wasn't in bed with him. She wasn't in the bathroom, and she didn't take her phone with her, but she took her room key with her. 

He went out to look for her and couldn't find her anywhere. Since he didn’t speak English well, he went to Sukuna for help. When he knocked on his door, his fiancée came out of the room with her hair matted and her panties in her hand. He knew about Sukuna's lucky ritual, so he knew perfectly well what had happened. His fiancée cheated on him with his damn brother. Choso went crazy and jumped at Sukuna, but he knocked him out before he could do anything. 

Choso woke up in the hospital bed with Yuuji next to him. According to him, he had never seen him so broken and betrayed in his life. He cried all night while his older brother was preparing for their fight. He knew Sukuna could be many things, but he never thought he would be capable of being a traitor. Needless to say, despite everything, Sukuna won the fight.

"What a jerk,” I grumbled through my teeth. 

"My brother doesn't care about anyone or anything. He can't be changed. I don't know where my parents failed in his upbringing,” Yuuji mentioned with a sigh. 

"That's why you should be careful, Sukuna is capable of doing anything to win,” Megumi warned me.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for telling me.”

The days passed, and the fight was one day away. After a tedious trip to Dubai and a quick stop to unpack at the hotel. The team, Sukuna and I headed out bright and early to the official weigh-in with the fight referee and judges. After Sukuna had lunch, we headed to the exhibition weigh-in at the hotel's convention center. This is where the fighters must appear to be brawling before the fight to get the public's attention. There is also a press round for them to publicize the event during the day. 

Sukuna, Gojo and I were called to the stage along with Toji Fushiguro and his coachs to be the next to go on stage. Sukuna was wearing his headphones and had a very unfriendly look on his face. Gojo asked him to take them off, and he did so between tantrums as I mentally prepared myself to go on stage. This reminded me of the good old days. 

As we walked out onto the stage, the press cameras began to flash and the murmur of reporters manifested itself in the room. I kept my face as serious as possible as Sukuna and Toji greeted each other and prepared for the weigh-in. I watched as he took off his hoodie to reveal his tribal tattoos proudly to the audience. The fighters reluctantly greeted each other with hurtful insults and stepped on the scales. The weight was somewhat different from the morning, as both had eaten breakfast at the hotel buffet. Toji weighed 220 pounds, while Sukuna weighed 215.

The audience applauded when it was announced that both passed the weigh-in. The only thing left was the press round. After Sukuna and Toji exchanged threats, all of us  sat at a long table on stage. Two coaches between the fighters to keep things from getting personal. The emcee asked if anyone had any questions, and the requests bombarded him. The emcee decided to give the floor to the reporter in front of me.

"I have a question for the Medusa’s Snake! How did the man-hating former welterweight champion of the women's division become the coach of the champion with clear anger issues!?” The reporter exclaimed so that everyone present could hear the question. 

I could feel Sukuna's eyes drilling into my skull for me to turn around and give him explanations on the spot. I carefully approached the microphone to speak loud and clear. 

"I may not like men, but I like champions. I always belong to the winning team," I answered while the photographers kept flashing me.

Medusa’s Snake was the nickname I was baptized with in the first fight I had against a man in the first gym I went to. That fighter was a disgusting man from my past who harassed me in and out of the gym. He would always watch me, try to touch me and follow me home. That was until one day I asked him to train with him, since he was so interested in me. He agreed and during the fight he tried to touch my tits, that was until I kicked him and knocked out a couple of his teeth. He ended up in the hospital and didn't wake up until a day later. From then on, I was nicknamed that way, and my brand as a champion was to be mean to men but honest with women, which wasn't too far from the truth.

"How is your neck? Can you train the world champion in that condition?!” Another reporter asked. 

I used to be the world champion in my weight class until during my fight with Maki Zen’in, I fell badly on my neck and tore it. I won the fight, but I lost a lot of range of motion in my neck. The doctor ordered me to rest for an indefinite period of time. It's been like that for almost two years now.

"I am fine, but I'm not fully recovered. My focus at the moment is on doing everything I can to keep Sukuna as champion,” I replied.

"Mr. Ryomen! It is known that you are very strict with admissions at your gym and that there are no women! Why the change?!” Another reporter asked. Sukuna took a few seconds to think about his answer, I could already imagine what stupid thing he would say next. 

"I chose her because she is the best,” he answered without further ado.

A small smile infiltrated my face before I could hide it. That response caught me off guard. It was the first time Sukuna had recognized me like that. I'd be lying if I said it hadn't been nice to be recognized for the first time in two months of work. In fact, it's the first time I've been recognized as a coach in a long time. Being a woman in a male-dominated world is complicated. You have to be good enough to be accepted, but not be the best so as not to overshadow any man with fragile masculinity.

After a couple more questions and an exchange of threatening hints, we went back backstage. We were about to head to the hotel gym to warm up a bit, but Sukuna stopped me halfway down the hall to confront me. A move that not only seemed strange to me, but also to the team.

"Are you a world-class fighter?” Sukuna questioned me. He couldn't be serious. I was going to answer, but Nanami stepped in. 

"Didn't you know that?” He asked him to make sure he wasn't joking. 

"Did you think we just brought you some random pretty girl so you could finally learn floor techniques?” Gojo interjected in amusement. Sukuna got flustered about the hidden intention of his coach’s questions. 

"I don't waste my time watching female fighting,” Sukuna answered, slightly blushing with embarrassment for being the only one who didn't know who I was. 

"That explains why she beat you up the first day,” Itadori commented with a chuckle. 

"I'm not surprised coming from Medusa’s Snake," someone said in a thick voice behind us. 

It was no other than Toji Fushiguro. A tall, strong and powerful man. A fighter easily recognizable in the crowd. If you put a bag over his head, people could still recognize him by his large physique. Unlike his body, his appearance was quite plain. He had a haircut that was not so long, but not so short. He wore a black sweatshirt, gray shorts and sandals from the brand that sponsors him. Despite his dangerous reputation, he had a pleasant smile, decorated with a small cut on his lip. 

"It's nice to finally meet you,” he greeted me directly, completely ignoring his opponent. 

It felt strange for him to approach me in such a friendly manner, but I still accepted his greeting. Megumi appeared behind him, looking like he was wondering the same thing I was.

"Do you know her, dad?” Megumi asked him in confusion. 

"Do you remember the fight your cousin Maki lost three years ago?” Toji asked without taking his eyes off me. Megumi nodded. “She finished the fight with a perfect Kimura*, someday you should teach me how to do that,” he flattered me with a proud smile, but it vanished when Sukuna came between us. 

Kimura: A technique whose main objective is to exert pressure on the opponent's shoulder and elbow joint to achieve submission in various wrestling disciplines.

"Not even in your dreams, old man.” Sukuna barked with a frown. “She signed a contract saying she belongs to me, so don't even try.”

Seeing Sukuna so defensive about keeping me on his side was strange. After the last two months, he has done nothing but scold me every time I do something wrong in his eyes. Toji didn't even flinch at his threat. I nudged him in the ribs to get him to step aside and let me talk. 

"Thanks for the compliment and the offer, but Sukuna is the only one I plan to coach until I get back on my feet. I plan to return to the ring soon,” I explained with a smile. 

“I understand. If you change your mind, you know how to find me,” he said while pointing at Megumi. Toji approached Sukuna and gave him a proud smile. “Take good care of her, snakes are great at escaping,” he advised her with a wink before walking away with Megumi and the rest of his team behind him. Sukuna muttered a curse under his breath and let him go.

Two big UFC fighters had recognized me as a good coach and fighter on the same day. It was a big step for my self-esteem and my career. My heart was beating like crazy with excitement, and the smile on my face didn't seem to go away anytime soon. 

“You're smiling like an idiot,” Sukuna scolded me. 

"Can't I be happy that the heavyweight champion just complimented my skills?” I said as we headed for the exit with the others once Toji left our sight. 

"That better be it, and you better not be thinking about going with him,” he challenged me. 

"Are you jealous?” I joked while nudging him playfully. 

"Of course not,” Sukuna answered while rolling his eyes. 

"Don't worry, just behave, and I'll still be yours,” I said in a mocking tone. I was partly joking and partly not. I really wanted him to behave. 

"Nice try,” he spat before picking up the pace to go with Gojo, leaving me behind. “Worth the shot” I thought as I followed them.

Next →

Masterlist.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[jesncin]

Hi! I'm sorry if this an inappropriate question to ask, but I was wondering if you had any advice on how to accurately portray characters of color? I'm White and my creative fiction includes a lot of diverse characters, and I don't want to just ignore how their races impact their stories but at the same time being a racial/ethnic minority isn't something I've personally experienced and I don't know how to walk the line between good representation and some White dude telling stories that aren't his place to tell. Do you have any advice on how to accurately present characters of color without appropriating?

Luckily I have time today so I'll give my 2 cents! For one: there is no such thing as "accurate" portrayals of POC. Our experiences aren't a monolith. Something personal I would write and pull from my lived experience might not be relatable to, say, another queer Indonesian. And characters I write that are outside of my identity (Black, disabled, etc.) are inevitably going to be less authentic compared to someone of those identities tackling those characters. That's just something to make peace with- we can only do the best we can with the perspective we have.

With that: the usual platitudes are "do your research" and "listen to POC", I dislike both of these sayings! I get what they mean, but I don't love the insinuation of "doing research and listening" as a means of personal creative benefit. So instead I encourage different mindsets:

Instead of "do your research" (where identities can be treated as subjects to be learned and not people) I prefer "expand your perspective". Art is so cool because it's self expression. Stories are awesome because it's a shortcut to a person's deepest feelings. They get you fascinated and invested in a life so unlike your own. I can't stand "I only read queer books" people because it's an admission that they refuse to engage with identities they can't relate or project onto. There are so many important stories out there outside of your bubble. Get into the habit of earnestly learning about perspectives outside of your own. And not with the mindset of "this'll make me a better writer if I consume the identity and can become them" but with the mindset of getting to learn about a new friend. I think people take "stay in your lane" too literally sometimes where they focus so much on writing about their own experiences that they miss out on empathizing with other people.

Instead of "listen to POC" (I hate this one. Because our opinions aren't a monolith, it essentializes all of us to being media critic savvy experts, and white people tend to cherry pick the POC opinions they like instead of looking at the wider conversation) I prefer "improve your media criticism skills, and supplement with different perspectives". Not only should you "expand your perspective" as my last point said, but you should also be critical of things you read and learn! Learning about how ableism, racism, classism, etc. operates in life helps inform your opinion of how an identity was portrayed in a story. Recognize that earnest, and well intended attempts at representation can still be flawed or performative (the amount of times I'm told "I'm sure they weren't intending to be racist" like I truly believe the writer is a mustache twirling racist villain is too much). It's important to be opinionated! Do the work to find different perspectives to inform your own.

Lastly, don't ask for labor from marginalized people haha. I know that's what you're doing now (and this always happens to me whenever I voice a critical opinion of race representation) but I happen to have time (I'm still waiting on my editors to get back to me, such is the life of publishing). Most people don't, and are exhausted with explaining themselves. I don't bother my other marginalized friends whenever I write perspectives outside of my own. I do as much of the work reading articles, history, criticism, art etc. first. Especially if it's going to be a published work, then find Authenticity Readers and pay them for their labor. Avoid asking general, easy to google answers y'know? A lot of people have done the work writing thought pieces in their own time about a variety of perspectives.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 29

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Pearl's pov*

Mumbo is pretty nice to talk to, you aren't an expert in machines but you do know a lot about a lot of subjects and he is really passionate about his work and interests. Him being secretly a villain hardly bothers you considering you are too and so are Scott and Cleo but it is something you keep in mind when he talks about his projects, he describes them as very simple useless machines but you know they aren't.

The thing that interests you the most though is how close he is to Grian, you don't think either of them know how attached they are... You doubt Grian understands humanity enough and to be honest no offense but Mumbo seems pretty oblivious when it comes to more emotional stuff... You can't exactly blame either of them for being dense but it makes for a very fun dynamic.

Mumbo does eventually leaves and you and Grian are back to looking at eachother in silence...well, until Grian speaks. He definitely did not get his title if god of chaos by being quiet.

"Soooo, you said we needed to find a place with no one listening in."

Right, he still owes you an explanation for what happened. He promised it. You are also prepared for him to not tell you everything like last time. And what can you do about that? Look into his mind? No way, even if he wasn't one of the most powerful gods in existance you still wouldn't touch that mess with a ten meter pole.

"I did, want to tell me everything this time aroun?"

"Your place again?"

You think about that, summoning him to the plane of wisdom could make it easier to coax details from him...on the other hand you can't miss the opportunity to learn more about his plane. A plane nobody except him has been in in millions of years.

"Hmmm... It might be better to go to yours instead"

"Are you ...sure?"

"Yes, I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't mate"

He is silent for a few seconds.

"... Alright! Follow me!"

You do, the moment you are out of sight from anyone he grabs you and the two of you are gone.

You expected something like this, as you open your eyes you are standing on a cube floating in space. Around you are floating steps and pillars and cubes and objects from various eras. You see Grian sitting sideways on a five legged chair as a blue flamingo with an elphant trunk pours him a glowing liquid you are pretty sure is lava. You parkour through the floating steps to reach him... He's being extra on purpose.

*Grian's pov*

You thought Pearl would be horrified but she just seems annoyed at the clutter...or at you... probably both.

"What are you thinking of? Want some lava? I even got some spiders in the back?"

"You know, you could really use a cleaning lady...also, no. I'm good."

"Nah, I have no clue what you are talking about, the most organized I have ever seen it."

You say that as you shoo away a storm of blood drinking dog-sized butterflies from going after the flamingophant. You of course use your time vortex frisbee to do so, you aren't an animal after all.

". . .Are you sure mate?"

"Yep"

"If you say so, you have enough random stuff here to create a black hole"

"That actually did happen once, real big mess, I'll tell you about that one day."

"Right, talking about telling me things... Getting that explanation would be appreciated mate"

"Oh yeah, didn't want to sit and do a speech."

"And you decided this was the best plan?"

"Yep"

"... Ok then, second question. Grumbot? I have seen him in Mumbo's memory but he doesn't know everything, does he? Of how he's involved."

"Oh yeah. Grumbot was powered by my energy so he's my child...and a god."

"And you didn't tell me last time, why?"

"I forgot."

". . . Ok then... Well do you have anything else to say?"

You do have something else actually!

"Yeah, what happened to you earlier?"

"Do you mean when I was reading Mumbo's mind?"

"Yes, that"

She just sighs.

"... That was Scarlet Pearl creeping in, it happens sometimes."

Ohh yeah, the corruption. That would have been bad with Mumbo there...You notice that her eye has started glowing red again.

"We have to go back now Grian"

"Already?""

Do you have anything else to say you haven't told me?"

...

"No?"

"Then It's best, I have something I have to do."

And like that you are put, how rude.

As Pearl leaves to do whatever she is going to do you check off this meeting from your mental checklist. Looking at it...well, imagining it, next thing on the list is... Dealing with the fallout of the whole situation... Especially with Scar's feelings.

Yikes, you really wanted to avoid that for just a bit longer... Hopefully he won't be too upset with what happened.

You know he's probably going to be.

[knifeturtlelives]

My Writing - Masterlist

making myself a new pinned post so you can find all my OFMD writing in one place 💜

Canon Era:

gotta see a man about a dinghy (G, 2k) - s1e09 missing scene. Ed mugs a guy for his dinghy and gets to enjoy 10 seconds of happiness before everything falls apart.

Ed. Oh, Ed. (T, 4k) - Takes place between s1e10 and s2e02. A few different glimpses of Stede's "Ed. Oh, Ed" dreams. Technically a WIP, but each chapter can be read as a standalone.

Of All the Gin Joints (T, 10K) - Diverges from canon sometime during Impossible Birds. Basically, what if Ed went for a drink at Jackie'z while Stede was still working there?

Picture Taken Moments Before Disaster (M, 4k) - s2e07 missing scene. Still living in the afterglow, Ed and Stede walk over to Jackie'z for that drink, and Stede is very smitten.

Post-Canon/Post Season 2:

can't keep my hands to myself (I mean I could, but why would I want to?) (E, 5k) - Ed and Stede retire from piracy and attempt to open an inn. Or they would, if they could stop fucking for long enough to get the place into shape.

Oh, be my once in a lifetime (E, 7k) - An extremely soft + emotional look at their first night in the inn together, with rimming.

The way I feel under your command ( E, 13k) - Ed develops something of a Blackbeard kink, but he's not sure how to broach the subject with Stede (or, an exploration of the Ed/Blackbeard duality, by way of porn)

choked up, face down, burnt out (E, 3.5k) - Ed asks Stede to play a sexy game with him, and he is unprepared for the consequences (fam it's just a straight forward orgasm delay/overstimulation fic)

I know what they're thinking, 'cause I'm thinking it too (E, WIP) - Some highly valuable stolen loot leads to a surprise encounter with one of Stede's childhood friends—who just so happens to be the (very hot) black sheep of the Badminton family. At first, Ed is jealous, but soon they start to bond. Now Stede's feeling a bit green, so naturally Ed decides to have a little fun with it. Updating weekly!

Modern AUs

Come What May (T, 9k) - After a break up, Stede goes over to his best buddy Ed's house for a movie night. Is tonight the night that Ed finally tells him how he feels? Maybe, but expect 9,000 words of panic attack first. Modern AU, mutual pining/oblivious friends-to-lovers

I've got a blank space baby (and I'll write your name) (E, 7k) - Edward Teach is an expert at breakups—he should be, he's gone through enough of them over the years. He has a whole ritual for getting over someone. But when he goes out looking for a bit of meaningless rebound sex, he finds something else—something he never could have prepared for: Stede Bonnet.

Boys only want love if it's torture (E, 12K) - A follow-up to Blank Space, but it can be read alone. After 3 blissful months with Stede, Ed is suddenly ghosted without a word. Now, he's finally starting to feel like himself again, and he goes out to the bar in search of his usual rebound sex ritual. Only, Stede's at the bar tonight, and he wants Ed back. (Happy ending guaranteed!)

[thefrogman]

On fucking up...

The house has been incredibly quiet since my dad passed. And that quiet turns into loneliness quite often for me. So last night I decided to use every spoon I had to go to the movies. I swallowed my social anxiety and went out into the world.

The theater had these recliners that sit on a raised step. But when you are actually sitting in the seat you can't see that step. Once the movie was over I forgot about the step. I got up to leave and my ankle caught it on the way down. I flew forward and crashed into the back of a row of seats.

A middle aged gentlemen saw this and said, "Gee buddy, this your first day walking?"

And the other 8 people in the theater gave a boisterous laugh.

I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

Making a mistake feels bad.

Making a mistake in public is an embarrassing lesson in humility.

And making a mistake witnessed by 15,000 people is terrifying.

When you get something wrong and people call you out, your first instinct is to dig in. Everyone wants to dig in. Which is usually the worst possible reaction. You want to defend yourself. You don't want to believe you were wrong. And you start spewing out reasons why you can't be wrong. I think the current vernacular calls this "tweeting through it."

Over the years I have tried very hard to fight that instinct to dig in. To consider what people have said and recheck my facts to see if my original information could be inaccurate. And sometimes you find out you were right and strengthen your point of view.

But when you find out you were duped or misunderstood the information, there is nothing quite like that sinking feeling.

And when you are wrong in front of 15,000 people... that sinking feeling goes to the center of the earth.

You get sucked into a thought spiral...

"How do I fix this? Do I send a message to all 15,000 people? Do I just post a video of me repeatedly punching myself in the face? Do I delete the post? No, can't delete the post, people will think you are trying to hide your mistake. Plus all those reblogs."

You have to accept the fact that even if you publicly admit you were wrong, a lot of those people are never going to see it. They are going to believe the thing and possibly spread it to others.

You've created a runaway freight train and you just have to watch it crash into stuff.

The sad thing is I have learned this lesson a few times in my 10+ years of being a minor public figure. It has caused me to be so paranoid about passing along bad information that I will fact check things to death. Sometimes 5 or 6 sources. I'll look at reputable sources and disreputable sources. And I'll try to corroborate those disreputable sources just as an exercise to give me confidence I have the best information at that time.

But the other night I finished watching John Wick 4 and was high on action juice. I started watching every John Wick video on YouTube. My history shows about 40 videos. And at 2 or 3am I heard the director being hyperbolic in a podcast clip and thought a fun fact was too great not to share.

I thought, "I'm not telling people to eat horse paste for COVID. I'm not pretending I'm a submarine expert who knows exactly how to save people at the bottom of the ocean. It's just a flippy gun maneuver. I'm sure Chad knows what he is talking about."

So I posted the thing on my personal blog with sleep in my eyes and figured it was fine. And after 500 notes no one had really said anything, so I thought it was okay to share on my main blog.

And that was my biggest mistake. I deemed the subject matter to be trivial so I lowered my standards.

I forgot that damn step was there and flew into the seats.

There are dishonest people on the internet. Tons of them. People who will post dangerous misinformation without a care. People who have a pattern of lying. Grifters who thrive on baiting people for clicks. And I think it has caused us to react to bad information with hostility by default. People forget that there are still honest people who just make a mistake or get duped. Yet they can still feel the need to make people feel stupid for believing something that seems so obvious to them.

I have been guilty of this myself. I have called people out forgetting they are a human being behind that social media avatar.

The first person to call me out just said, "This is not true, LMFAO."

That's not helpful.

People made me feel like I was a liar. And I am very sensitive to that. For years doctors, family, and friends were skeptical of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. And when someone accuses me of being dishonest, I get very anxious and see red.

But I tried very hard not to dig in. I asked for more information--for evidence. Just point me in a direction so I can figure out what's true. But I got angry when all they said was that I was wrong without elaboration. Which is another form of digging in.

I guess I'm asking people to start with compassion before hostility. Maybe if we don't know the person or they have been a mostly reliable source, we can give people a chance. If the person has a history of deception, that's a different story. Bad faith is usually pretty easy to spot.

I remember for a long time I used to love telling people their blood was blue until it was exposed to oxygen. It was just the funnest fun fact I had ever heard and I *needed* others to know the thing I knew. Giving people knowledge can be intoxicating. But then I told my good friend who just became a medical resident and he was like, "I don't remember that in medical school. I think that might be an urban legend."

I still got that sinking feeling and I still had flashbacks to every person I told... but I was grateful he was so kind when he corrected me.

You can correct someone with kindness.

I'd ask that you imagine yourself in their shoes. Think about how embarrassing it is when you get something wrong. And just be like, "Hey, I think you got some bad information. Here's why."

When someone faceplants into a row of seats, metaphorically or otherwise, maybe ask if they are okay before laughing at them.

[themoodyestj]

jfc let it go they were on a date, there’s multiple sources saying they spotted them together 😂

"Let it go", says the anon polluting my inbox when I didn't even care to address the subject. How ironic. The laughing emoji at the end clearly depicts the immature behavior, feeling like the cat who ate the cream, when it should be the person taking the medicine. Trust me, this made me laugh a lot harder than you did. Quit trying so hard. How telling. *sighs contently* Anyhoo. Anon, let me give it to you straight. The fact is, I saw no picture, I just have hear say. Now, that isn't to say that I wouldn't find it plausible that they were seen together. They are indeed married, they have children together. They could be together for a number of reasons, which I really don't care to contemplate. Date could be a possibility. But we can't really tell, can we? Besides, don't be surprised that I'm a bit jaded about all this. I mean, no pictures, the girl was too shy to take a photo, but had no problem tagging them? Kind of a selective shyness, no? Also, AAs are known for fabricating stories to have masturbatory content. You are experts in twisting words and seeing things that are not there, convincing yourself that the proverbial egg can grow hair. So don't blame me if I don't take AA information as fact. Jensen could rip a smelly one at a con, and you would code into a love letter to his wife. Also, doesn't this spread content seem to fall at a very specific timeline for you? I mean, the post on the January 2nd. It became hot topic at pretty much the exact date a certain co-star revealed plans for a new show. Really weird, right? Furthermore, I guess you are misunderstanding me here and the content of my blog. The reason I criticize Danneel is not the same reason you love her. My criticism is not due to the fact that she's married to Jensen. My criticism falls on the individual actions of said person, and it so happens to correlate from time to time to another. Even if they were divorced, as long as she would spew nonsense and someone else would consider it empowerment, I would still be critical. But at that point it wouldn't matter to you much, now, would it? She's your self insert. Without her proximity to a certain person, she would no longer have value to you. God, it sucks to be her, to be honest. On a last note... I have to say your insistence is perturbing. I mean, I understand shipping a couple, but going to the lengths of trying to provoke (emphasis on trying) an anti blogger to prove a point... That sure beckons the question.... Do you invest this much time in your own personal life? Do you have a significant other? Do you feel loved, understood, cherished, complete? Or are you living vicariously through strangers? I wonder.

I think we raised many important questions today. Think about it.

[ghelgheli]

17! but also using the opportunity of the ask game to get to know more about the effortless worldbuilding in sff :)

from the end-of-year book ask

17: Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

I think Three Body Problem is the only one meeting this condition this year so I'll have no trouble staying on topic :> but I'm gonna specifically talk about "hard" SF as I conceive of it—I haven't read any analysis so this may just be a jumble of improvised thoughts.

SF, being "speculative" fiction, of course has to take on the problem of speculating and of presenting things that don't (and perhaps cannot) happen. On average this is accomplished thru a healthy combination of scientific grounding and good-natured handwaving: I drop a few sentences about "quantum entanglement" and you go along with my ansible, or you tell me about "positronic circuits" and I agree that you can make a brain with them. This is the compact that makes SF work because you fundamentally cannot expect speculation without, well, ceding ground on reality.

But at least a subset of SF readers are of the kind to really want to grok how it is that this or that scientific feature of the world works or may come about. Every contraption and novel technology is like a puzzle to be riddled out. This is the place where speculation becomes sincere mechanical prediction, and it's why I love hard SF.

This subset of readers can be matched to a subgenre of writers who commit fully to filling in as many blanks in their technological, biological, etc. speculation as possible. The rows of astronomical data can't be left vague—tell me what frequency of light we're dealing with here—xenobiology isn't taken for granted—what is the neurology of your aliens??—and so on. The dots are connected, the rest of the owl is drawn for real, the image is made crisp. Like fireworks for the reader's brain.

When this kind of worldbuilding is executed well imo it looks effortless. Looks, not is, because behind every explanation of near-c travel is hours of research into at least special relativity and time dilation, along with calculations by-hand. Behind every account of an exoplanet's atmosphere is probably a few papers perused on the subject and several articles on scientific american. Peter Watts, in the note at the end of Blindsight, includes a fucking bibliography of a hundred or so references as well as thank-yous to many an academic he split handles of liquor with. And this is only the visible fragment of what has to be a library of knowledge accumulated both passively and actively to make a speculated world feel as concretely plausible as possible.

None of this is necessary for good SF. The aforementioned compact means any author can opt out of this commitment at any time. But it's what it takes to make tightly-written hard SF, where your conceptual hands are kept diligently at your side, waving an idea through maybe once every five chapters when you have no other choice.

So anyway, Three Body Problem is a tour de force in doing this and doing it cleanly. It uses a storytelling device a lot of hard SF employs to make it work: rather than stuffing dense exposition into narration (at which point, just read the source papers) it deploys a cast of characters who more than anything else, really know their shit. We get exposition trickle-fed through experts who are trying, along with us, to make sense of their novel environments and unfamiliar technologies using their knowledge of the present limits of human understanding. This is what Watts does in Blindsight too, by the way: a claustrophobic ship crewed by technical specialists makes first contact, so everyone has something encyclopedic to say about everything and it's only natural.

What astounded me about Cixin Liu's writing is that he made it work just when I least thought he would be able to. I was sure I was being shown things completely inexplicable and necessarily supernatural until he went and explained them in plain terms; better yet, he explained them in ways that made so much sense in retrospect that I was kicking myself for not seeing the answer. This has exactly the flavour of a good puzzle.

The trade-off hard SF makes is that you are often limited in the metaphorical/thematic work you can do through your speculation. I think the contrast between "calendrical science" in Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire series and Asimov's "psychohistory" illustrates this well.

Yoon Ha Lee has mathematical training, and calendrical science is a speculative field consisting of theorems, conjectures, proofs, etc. in the language of mathematics that stand in for cultural hegemony and power projection. This makes for a great operationalization of soft power: space is filled and distorted by the quantifiable effects of whatever regime is dominant there (the "calendar" here being synecdoche for culture writ large). But obviously he can't fill in the blanks of how a calendar causes spacetime distortions that specifically make one side's weapons more effective, or provide certain formations with shielding effects. This is, I guess, semi-hard (lol) SF—you can see how it's supposed to work, but it's clear that it just won't. What you get in return is pretty politically interesting storytelling.

Psychohistory is the converse: a deterministic-enough lovechild of economics and sociology explained in the Foundation series as using all the familiar methods of linear algebra and differential equations together with unfamiliar innovations of just how to quantify human behaviour in order to make reliable predictions. There are entire chapters dedicated to explaining the conceptual nuance that went into developing psychohistory ("the hand on thigh principle" from prelude to foundation is just about how the theory resolves divergence by reducing insignificant terms to zero) and an entire book to exploring one of its limitations. It's fascinating to read. But you also get little narrative depth out of it, because hard SF, even when done well, is not guaranteed to make a story thematically interesting or politically compelling. This is the Three Body Problem problem too: its political commitments are threadbare and unserious because that's just not what it's about. I couldn't recommend it on those terms, but that's not what I like so much about it. I will say the conceptualization goes a little off the rails in the final chapters, but I think most SF authors were in some kind of string theory inspired fugue state at the time.

What I would love to see (and I'm sure exists) is hard SF that also has interesting politics. Unfortunately that's an intersection of two already-narrow intersections.

ty for ask✨🐐

[spacebobastories]

Something Real

Chapter 1 - Wake Up

Summary: Louis didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Sure, he *knew* but didn’t think it would be that bad. Boy, how wrong he was. Everything hurts now…and what’s with these people wanting to take him in? What happened? Pairing: Poly 141 x OC

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, I'm not a military expert so there will be inaccuracies, some panicked flashbacks from Louis, mentions of experiments.

Author's Note: I reeealllllyyy wanted to start writing again. So, Call Of Duty is one of my fascinations right now. I also have been reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood by Soaps-mohawk which you should check out because their story is freaking amazing! I have gotten inspired to write again because of them and their amazing work!

Next Chapter

When Louis was a boy, he always dreamed of being a soldier, a doctor, hell even an astronaut. Anything so he wouldn't just be an Omega.

"Stop! It burns!!"

He never wanted to be an omega. Never wanted to just be something to bring children into the world and nothing else. It was depressing to be born an omega. You're treated like some kind of birthing machine. Always lusted after by Alphas who don't treat you right. Always looked down at because of the status you're born. Oh how he hated the looks he got as a child, those lingering looks from Alphas. It made his skin crawl.

"He's flat lining! We need a defibrillator shock now!"

Growing up, it got worse. He couldn't do certain things, couldn't go anywhere without someone telling him he couldn't do it or go there. Alphas breathing down his neck, always crowding him...always touching.

"Louis, I know it hurts. But it will be for the good of the country."

Well, he proved them all wrong by joining the military. Something that an Omega should never do. Or in his case, they weren't allowed to. He fought tooth and nail to become a soldier, to claw his way up the ranks. His parents were proud of him. Proud that an Omega and a person of color could do what he did. Oh how he was hated by Alphas because he wouldn't roll over for them. Even in his heat, he wouldn't go to them. But he was also loved by many, even something to look up to. But then, there was a new project that opened up. The Shadow Project. The name of the project was obvious to the man. Make the subject a shadow so enemies can't spot you.

It would make the perfect soldier. The perfect killing machine to help in the wars over seas and on missions. He didn't have to do it. Didn't have to volunteer. But he wanted to. He needed to prove a point. If he could, he would have gone back in time and slapped his past self. What an idiot.

Louis didn't want this anymore. He didn't want to be in pain, the burning sensation of chemicals going through his veins. The feeling of his body breaking down and regenerating. It was mind numbingly painful. He hated it. He hated what his country was turning him into. He saw what the others had turned into. Monsters. Misshapen things that were once human. Their bodies mangled, skin an entirely different color, faces warped into something horrific.

Louis hoped he didn't turn into that, hoped that his body didn't morph into something monstrous. But with the chemicals that were pumped into his body and the pain he felt, he wished he did. He wished he did turn into that monster so he could die and be done with the pain. The was his body tore itself apart and came back together was excruciating. But, as time went on, as the months passed by, maybe even years, he learned to get used to the pain. He learned to push it down, deep down in the back of his head. He learned to be numb.

His lungs were constantly breaking down and regenerating, to the point it was hard for him to breath. They made him a special gas mask that used his own smoke- the way his body broke down looked like smoke- to have him breath properly. It didn't stop the way his lungs kept dying inside of him, but, it at least made it easier to breath. He didn't know a lot about The Shadow Project but he wished he had asked questions because he didn't know that they were going to make him into a literal shadow. A wraith if you want to be more specific. He didn't know how they did it. He didn't know what type of chemicals and cybernetics they put into his body. He should have cared, should have been worried. But, at this point, he just wanted it to end. He wanted it all to end.

He remembered walking down the long hall to one of the testing chambers, eyes dull and staring straight ahead. He had two soldiers on either side of him, Alphas he thinks. He was supposed to test out his shadow step to see if there needed to be improvements done. But the alarms started blaring and he heard the scientists yelling. He saw some running back and forth in the hall ahead of him. There was a large explosion that shook the place, making Louis and the guards stumble in place.

"What the hell is going on?!" He rasped out, voice muffled by the gas mask.

The explosion was muffled and sounded like it was coming from above. Soon, there were more explosions and the head scientist's voice came on "Everyone! Get to the bomb shelters! Get the experiments into the cryo pods! Quickly!"

It was all a blur as Louis was suddenly dragged down the many hall ways of the facility. The alarms were still blaring as Louis got dragged into the main Cryo Chamber room, scientists were quickly putting the 'perfect' subjects into the cryo pod. But he was put into the main one, at the end of the room. Like he would be watching over the others. The head scientist was standing in front of Louis as he was placed in the cryo pod.

"Everything will be okay. You will wake up soon and fight for this country."

Louis didn't fight back, glad this was happening so he wouldn't go through with the experiments. The thick glass door began to slowly close. The explosions became more intense, some rubble was beginning to fall from, the ceilings and yet the alarms kept going on. It seemed they were getting louder and louder. But the door finally closed with a hiss, everything was muffled. Hardly any sound was heard coming through. Only the blaring of the alarm could still be heard.

"The freezing process will start in 3..."

Louis felt his breathing begin to pick up, the wheezing and rasping of his breathing echoed loudly in the pod.

"2."

He saw the edges of the door begin to freeze over, the crystalized ice spiderwebbing across the glass. His body, which was was always so hot, began to cool down. He felt himself become cold. The temperature began to slowly drop.

And as the countdown came to an end, Louis closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He would be able to sleep without pain.

"1."

"The cryo pod will be opening in 3...2...1..."

The pod door hissed loudly, freezing cold carbon dioxide smoke creeped out of the bottom as the door began to slowly open.

"Please stand back."

Louis' eyes slowly fluttered open and he took a raspy breath, breathing in deeply. Louis fell forward and his body naturally turned into a thick cloud of bitch black smoke.

"Holy shit, L.T. You see what I'm seein'?"

His smoke felt hot to the touch and he groaned gently in discomfort as his body quickly formed back on the floor. Louis was on his hands and knees on the floor, panting softly. But with the gas mask he had on, it sounded like he was taking labored breaths.

"We have eyes on the target, Captain." Louis twitched lightly as he was finally becoming aware of his surroundings and heard people talking. He blinked his eyes a few times and with some effort, lifted his head from the floor. His eyes saw four pairs of feet standing in front of him, the glow from the pod making it easier to see. He blinked slowly as he mode his gaze up their bodies, seeing that they were men. One had a mohawk, tan skin with facial hair and beautiful blue eyes. They were wide with concern and awe. Louis looked at the other man and was surprised to see a skull looking back at him. But his brain was still foggy so he eventually realized that it wasn't an actual skull, but a mask.

Louis couldn't see any skin from him, he was fully covered up. From what Louis could see, the man in the skull mask had some kind of black paint around his eyes, making his blue eyes stand out more. Both men were large, but the one in the Ghost mask was massive and if Louis wasn't still out of it, he was be a little intimidated.

"Can you stand?" The one with the mohawk spoke and he had an odd accent. Sounding like Scottish. Louis glanced over at the man before slowly sitting back on his knees. "What...year is it?" He managed to get out, wincing as he cleared his throat, his lungs were dying and regenerating. It felt like he was breathing in shards of glass each second.

The one with the mohawk blinked in surprise "3055." Louis looked at the man in shock.

"W-what?" He rasped out and the one with the mohawk shifted in place, reaching up to rub a hand on his neck.

*That means I was in there for 33 years....!* He thought in shock as he breathed in sharply only to go into a coughing fit and hunched over on the floor. He heard shuffling before one of the guys kneeled down, placing a hand on Louis's back. Louis quickly reached up to take off his mask, still coughing and hacked up a glob of blood and a piece of his lung. He groaned in disgust as he took in deep breaths, feeling the hand slowly rubbing up and down his back.

"Fuck." He breathed out as he leaned back on his knees, letting his head fall back. His eyes were unfocused as he was still trying to come out of his stupor. He took a few more wheezing breaths and placed his mask back on, taking deep breaths of his own smoke. It helped a little with the pain.

"We need to go. Soap, carry him out of here." The skull man's voice was deep yet muffled by his mask and Soap, who was still kneeling beside Louis, nodded his head.

"Let's get you out of here." He muttered as he reached over to help Louis up and the redhead let him. He was tired and basically melted in the man's arms as he was carried out. As they moved down the halls, Louis could see that the once bright and clean facility was dark and dirty. There were cracks in the walls, rubble on the floor and he swore he saw a skeleton's hand underneath the caved in roof.

The two men were quiet as they moved down the halls and Louis couldn't help but relax in Soap's arms. It felt...nice to be carried. It felt nice to finally be awake again. But he knew the feeling wouldn't last long. The feeling of peace that he felt. His body was still waking up and once it was fully awake. He would be in constant pain. But for now, he enjoyed the peace.

[rallamajoop]

Chris Boulder-Punching Redfield and the Genius of the Karambit Knife

If you've played Chris' section of Resident Evil Village, you probably know that Chris' arsenal includes a karambit knife ‒ a way more effective weapon than the blunt POS knife poor Ethan's stuck with. You may even have picked up that the karambit is a real knife used in Indonesian and Filipino martial arts.

But I'm guessing most of you don't realise what a stroke of raw genius it was to give Chris, specifically, a karambit to wield.

Now, I'm no expert on knife-fighting, but up until it was canceled for covid-reasons, I used to take this eclectic martial arts class run by a jedi ninja stuntman mate of mine, and the karambit was his favourite knife. We only got to use it a couple of times (knifework wasn't generally our focus), but I'm at least qualified to tell you that in some respects, a karambit may actually be easier than a regular knife for someone with a bit of bare-hand combat experience to pick up.

Why? Well, get this: a lot of karambit moves are basically just punches, with a knife in your hand.

And if there's one thing Chris is known for (canonically, and possibly worldwide), it's punching things.

Sadly, I could not find any online resource to demonstrate this aspect of the karambit nearly as effectively as watching one of my classmates get really excited by how all these moves we were learning felt just like throwing a familiar old punch (something our instructor enthusiastically agreed with, FWIW). But here's a couple of videos which kinda touch on the subject at least.

(Have some sources for those other two pics while I'm at it too, though neither say anything much on the subject of knife-punching.)

Obviously, there's more to using a karambit like a pro than just 'hold knife do punch', but it's not like Chris uses it in any way that demonstrates that, so I think the point stands.

Now, is this why they gave Chris a karambit in RE8? I cannot say for sure. The whole "a great knife to punch people with!" aspect of the karambit isn't nearly so storied online as it deserves to be, and I can't speak to its overall reputation among pros.

But given that this is the same game that went out of its way to call Chris a boulder-punching asshole, and that reworked his whole move-set in Mercenaries mode to be no-blocks-all-punches, I'd certainly like to think there's a stuntman somewhere on Capcom's RE team whose eyes just lit up when asked what the perfect knife for Chris Redfield would be.

[diagonal-queen]

Hello! So, how do you think Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, and Dazai(You can add some more characters if you want!)would react if their S/O was a compulsive liar? Not exactly a bad person, but they lie almost every chance they get. Please and thank you <3

i always get the best and most interesting reqs!! now i can't say i'm an expert with this subject, but here's how i think it'd go:

When their S/O is a compulsive liar

♡ pairing: Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Mykola Hohol, Dazai Osamu, Ranpo Edogawa, Yosano Akiko x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these characters react when their S/O is a compulsive liar?

♡ cw: Reader is a compulsive liar (you probably already figured, but I figure it's best to put the warning just in case), they are aware of this and they feel bad about it, Fyodor (and Mykola lowkey) is toxic as hell, like he's real bad (manipulative and abusive), misunderstanding and or ignorance towards the concept of compulsive lying

note: I did a bit of extra studying before writing this just to make sure I wasn't misinformed at all. I'm fully aware that compulsive lying is not a choice and can be very harmful to both the liar and person(s) being lied to. I know that compulsive lying does not indicate that someone is inherently a bad person. I'm not aiming to demean or glorify it! I'm very sorry if I get any details wrong or handle this topic incorrectly (please let me know if I have), apologies for errors, and I hope you enjoy x

Chuuya:

Chuuya is a really genuine and honest person. As such your behaviour takes some getting used to

However he does acknowledge that you don't actually want to lie to him and that it's something you don't know how to control, and he does his best to support you with it

He tries to get Mori's help for you so that the two of you can work towards dampening any potential issues that can arise from your behaviour (it probably doesn't work because Mori, but Chuuya's doing his best)

There are times when he does get a little frustrated with your lies and when you deny him calling you out but he's working on it

Chuuya constantly reminds you that there's no need for you to lie about yourself for him to love you and that you have value regardless of how you see yourself

Knows that it's not a personal thing, but lowkey has a hard time admitting that at first because he doesn't really get it initially

Wouldn't tell other people you're a compulsive liar but he would defend you if you get in trouble for lying to somebody

I'll be honest this would really put a strain on your guys' relationship, but if you're willing to put effort into it then you could definitely make it work

Fyodor:

Fyodor can see through basically all of your lies, and because he's messed up he really might see it as kind of a game.

He understands that you don't control it but he kinda feels like each time you tell him a lie (insignificant or harmless as it may be) you're challenging him in a way.

He gets some sick entertainment out of exposing your lies and watching you double down on them

Always asks you if you're lying to him whether or not he knows you are. In his head he wants to reinforce that lying is a sin and he does that by making you feel bad about them

To be totally honest the fact that you lie to him about things doesn't actually bother him much, he's just mean and sees it as a good way to control you

He might be less of a sadist if you initially admit to him that you're a compulsive liar instead of him finding out on his own because then he knows how it is from the get go

Will utilise your compulsive lying somehow for the DOA's benefit (and also tell the other members about it :/)

Fyodor knows full well that it's most likely an indicator of trauma or a symptom for something worse, but there's no better way than to build someone into your perfect S/O like breaking them down first!

Mykola:

He knows and he honestly doesn't really care.

Mykola is just not really that concerned about it. He knows that you do love him, and to him that's all that matters

Though he knows he won't receive always honest answers he still likes asking you questions (about your day or yourself or whatever) and is just happy to hear you talk whether or not it's true

Unfortunately though he doesn't really believe anything you say unless you can provide some kind of proof

Even though he does sometimes like to poke fun at you (things like catching you in your lies so you don't have a choice but to admit the truth), he really hates when other people do the same and will actively defend you

He likes to 'study' you in a sense, and hypothesise reasons as to why you're a compulsive liar. Sometimes he can cross the line when asking you about it

Kind of an enabler, not gonna lie. He wants you to tell him the truth, but he doesn't really care what you say to other people

In fact, he might actually play along with your lies in public to maintain your image (and for amusement probably)

Dazai:

So Dazai already knew this before you got together. He can tell when you're lying, believable as you may seem to other people

He himself doesn't lie but is also very good at evading questions and secret keeping, which are habits he picked up from his time as a mafioso. He understands you in that way and feels for you because you're generally pretty misunderstood by others too

As such he's rather defensive of you. He would hate for someone to make you feel bad about your behaviour because he knows you feel bad enough about it as it is

He takes notice of certain things that you have a tendency to lie about so that he can learn more about you and help you heal

Dazai generally tries to talk about things with you and communicate with you in a way that doesn't really invite any opportunities to lie, if that makes sense

If you lie to him, he doesn't really bring it up unless he's worried that it could cause trouble for you in the future

If you lie to other Agency members about something he might approach them later and explain that it was a lie and also explain why you said it

He might to help by bringing up contradictions in your lies and asking you to explain them (not as a 'gotcha' but more as a way to understand what you're trying to do)

Ranpo:

Back when you and Ranpo first met, he used to be a little bit insensitive about it (unintentionally!)

But after learning more about compulsive lying he kind of started to feel bad for you in a way? So he started going a lot easier on you

He always, always knows when you're lying because he's able to discern the truth with no effort. So, whether or not you lie to him it doesn't make much difference. He knows it's not intended to be malicious or personal

Ranpo can get frustrated with it though, because he's lazy and can't be bothered to figure you out sometimes

When in public he does most of the talking for you because if you do lie to someone and you're found out he doesn't want you getting in trouble (this is especially the case during investigations and stuff)

He actually kind of helps you in a way to lie less because you know that he knows the truth regardless so there's not much point in lying? Of course it's still a habit but you do find yourself lying less

Eventually he does enlist Yosano's help to try and see if there's anything she can actually do to help you too

Even if it turns out that she can't or something like that, he'd still be there to help you and he'd still love you

Yosano:

She's determined to help you with this condition, but she understands that it's not something you can control

Yosano is honestly probably the best one out of everyone here who you could talk to about it because she'd actually put a ton of effort into helping you stop lying (besides Chuuya lol)

She herself can usually tell when you're lying but unlike Ranpo she can't tell what exactly the lie is, if that makes sense?

She's very nice about it and never takes your behaviour personally. Yosano is very gentle when she encourages you to be honest with her, and doesn't force you to admit things if you feel you can't

That being said she doesn't enable your behaviour, and will sometimes end a conversation with you if she knows you'll keep lying after she brings it up

It's possible that as a doctor she may receive some raised eyebrows for deciding to date someone who is a compulsive liar, but she really doesn't care. Something like that isn't gonna deter Yosano from loving you

She may suggest couple's therapy in order to help the two of you communicate better (whether or not you decide to go is up to you)

Overall she's pretty good at handling your behaviour and not making you feel bad about yourself because of it :)

got the vibrant colour tachihara mayoi yesterday ˚‧º·( 。ᗒ ᴗ ◕✿) also...do we really expect many of these characters to correctly deal with behaviour as a result of psychological issues?

[calico-in-the-forest]

Tw: slight academic vent, swearing

i fucking hate it when people discriminate based on age, rather than pure ability. Like sure, i'm not an adult yet, but im a fucking qualified voluntary archaeologist and I deserve the option to pursue my hobby and future career just as much as anyone else. Just because my hobby is more niche and academic, rather than a sport or an instrument, doesn't make me any less worthy of oppertunities to continue learning than someone older.

Sure, I'm a young person, but i've also had more than half a fucking decade of experience in the area that i'm aiming to formally study in, including many small practical qualifications. I've done everything else i can in the subject: tonnes of voluntary work; citizen science projects; i've been interviewed, recorded in articles and papers, delivered speeches; ive done tonnes of work experience; ive done informal courses; ive engaged in academic debates, even read the oxford archaeological handbook cover to cover; i've fucking worked with human remains.

So sorry if you have decided that I am not worthy of doing an academic qualification, but honestly its not your choice. I was called a gifted kid when i was younger, so why am i suddenly incapable of pushing myself and making my own fucking decisions on my career? Why has my work - that you hardly know about or understand - suddenly been reduced to "but your a child" and "i don't think you're capable enough"? I'm a fucking expert at this subject, and its not your job to tell me that I can't achieve what I want in life. And so what if i don't get in? At least i fucking tried. at least i got the fucking experience from giving it a go. But you're going to try stop me from even doing that. And that's your fault. I'll still apply regardless, you just made it a whole lot more difficult. [this is aimed at my referee for a part-time academic course i am applying to. Ageism doesn't just affect old people, it affects us too. I should be encouraged to achieve and grow as much as possible in a subject that brings me joy, not dissuaded from trying in the first place]

[misscrazyfangirl321]

android is also the local tech expert, so when they start to malfunction they have to talk their human friends through how to repair them, even though the procedure is painful?

OOOOO

"There's a panel-" Speech. Talking. Unexpectedly difficult. Something is wrong. Wrong. Malfunctioned. Glitching. "On my back. On the left side." Left? Process. Repeat. Clarify. "Right side."

"Listen, I don't know about this." Scared. The human is scared. (So am I. Another glitch. Another malfunction. Another failing.) "Maybe we should wait until Frankie gets back."

Frankie Hills. Mechanic. Fifteen. Expert. This human is not an expert. He's new; his name isn't in my database yet. But he's not a mechanic. I know that; he told me. "No time. Glitching. Crashing. Odds of successful repair... Dropping."

This doesn't make him calmer. His hands are shaking, which is bad. Wrong. He's glitching. (But humans don't glitch. They just exist. Why can't I just exist?) I search my database, ignoring the strain on my processor. If I'm not careful, I'll overheat, but he'll never get anywhere without my help.

Comfort words. Excellent. "It will be-be okay." Repeating. Echoing. I'm overloading my system. Audio quality is suffering. "I believe in you."

An odd thing: belief. I don't know what it means. But I know I'm broken, and he's the only one who can fix me. I need him to fix me, before it's too late.

In any case, the words seem to assure him. His features shift. Change. The word comes to my processing center unbidden: Soften. He relaxes, and clears his throat. "Left panel?"

"Right." Then, when he starts to reach, I clarify, "Right panel. Right side. Not correct. Right."

This gives him pause, but only briefly. Then he reaches again, this time for the right (right, correct, direction) panel. When he twists the screwdriver, my sensors burn in protest, and I cannot stop a noise from slipping out. Unfortunate; it frightens him.

"Did I hurt you?"

Hurt: to cause pain. My sensors are not for pain; they serve as alarms for things that pose a threat. They tell me if things are too hot, too cold, subject to cause harm to my hardware or programming. It sends a warning through my wires; I find it unpleasant, but that does not make it pain.

My processor is too close to overheating; I cannot explain all of this. "Yes." It falls within the parameters of truth the Organization has defined for me. "Remove the panel."

"But if it's going to hurt you-"

"It must be removed. There is no other way to repair me."

He makes a noise of his own: a groan, a human sound for pain. But why is he in pain? He isn't; he hurts for me. Hurts because I suffer. Still, though, he sets to work, removing the panel. This time, when noises escape, he does not falter.

"Now what?"

"There are two wires: red and green."

"You have a lot more wires than that back here."

His voice has changed. Taken on a sound: a drawl. So this is sarcasm, then. A human attempt at humor, to make me feel more relaxed (or perhaps, to make him feel more relaxed).

"Those do not matter. Find the red and green wires."

He makes another noise, similar to the grunt, but lighter. Louder. I identify it as laughter; he thinks I've made a joke in turn. Very well.

"Okay, got 'em. What do I do?"

This will be unpleasant. I know this. These wires are not meant to be exposed, so they're connected to powerful sensors. When he does what he must, it will overwhelm my system. But it has to happen.

"Wait until I finish speaking. Disconnect both wires, and insert the yellow drive on the table into the slot behind those wires. Then, reconnect the wires. Make sure you do not cross them."

He waits five seconds-I count-to ensure that I'm done talking. I've encountered droids far less compliant than him. Then, he asks, "What happens if I cross the wires?"

The sensation I experience isn't truly fear; it's simply programming, a jolt of warning, an attempt to preserve data. I'm more useful when I have all of my data, after all. Still, I sound unsteady even to myself when I reply, "System reboot."

Wiping me. Erasing me forever. I would still be here, but not here. Not me. Something else. Someone else. But me. I don't want to think about this; it will definitely overwhelm my processors.

"I'm done speaking," I inform him, because he still hasn't continued the procedure.

"Right, just, uh... Brace yourself." There is nothing to brace myself against; there is nothing to prepare me for this.

"I will not be able to guide you any longer," I warn, and he hesitates. Humans have something called intuition, and I suspect right now that his is activating, inferring from the data I've provided that this will not be a good experience for me. It will, however, be a necessary one.

He knows. Clears his throat. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

A strange thing, something humans often say before things which are most definitely not nothing. A human contradiction; they have many.

Then, all programs running in my mind cease, replaced only with sensor alerts, warnings, jolts- (it hurts-)

Processing fails.

-

I've been recharged. It isn't truly waking up, but that's what humans call it, when I shift from powered down to powered up. All of my sensors are operating at normal levels, not detecting any negative input.

And all of my data is in-tact.

The man is sitting by my charging stall, watching me with an odd look on his face. I run it through my processors (running smoothly now, easily able to take in the new information): It is exhaustion. While I have been recharging, he has not done the same. Curious.

"You require sleep. My calculations indicate that your performance will be diminished by more than-"

"You're okay!" He interrupts me, and-as per my programming-I cease imparting information. Then he stands, reaching over and wrapping his arms around me.

A hug; I don't need to check my database for that. I've observed it before, frequently. It's strange, finally experiencing it. My sensors exist for detecting threats, but the pressure is too light to register as a threat. It does register, though; awareness without warning. It's... Not unpleasant.

"You performed the procedure adequately," I inform him, because my records indicate that moments of embracing call for phrases of sentiment.

He laughs, again. That's not the correct response to sentiment; maybe I didn't do it right. But he hugs me again-more tightly, but still not tight enough to send a warning-before releasing me.

"Thanks for talking me through it," he says.

Odd, to thank me for something that benefitted me more than him. Programming and experience both tell me, however, that there is only one response he's seeking.

"You're welcome."