#budget 2020 summary

[muddyorbsblr]

remote consults behind enemy lines [kinktober 2023: formal wear…and role play(?)]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! 'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: 2020, during the filming of Loki Season 1

Summary: You casually reveal that you consulted on costume design for another supersuit, leading to an unexpected reaction from your boyfriend

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, don't u dare even try me); kinda public sex; unprotected p in v; role play; clothed sex; language [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; Reader's wearing a dress; Tom's wearing Loki's coronation armor; mango namedrop (i couldn't resist 🤣)

This was absolute torture in the most devilishly delicious way. Sitting in front of the monitor and watching your boyfriend acting out a scene wherein Loki was about to step in to the role of Crown Prince of Asgard because Thor had "gone missing" due to one of the god's shenanigans turning his brother into a literal frog, wearing the very costume that had the internet running amok with how it made certain parts of him so prominently shaped that Marvel's considerably lower budget back then had to make room for extra editing to keep the final cut family friendly.

You never thought the day would come that you would see him in that costume just mere feet away from you. And to have him take on that majestic stance with his feet shoulder width apart and arms outstretched as he basked in the applause and praise that the people of Asgard were showering him with?

"Fucking end me," you muttered as soon as Kate yelled for them to cut the cameras.

"Okay now I get why they needed the extra CGI budget for that bulge fucking Christ on a crutch," Bryan commented, lightly nudging at your shoulder to snap you out and stop you from shamelessly staring. "Why madam, should I go get you a paper towel or something for that bit of drool at the corner of your mouth?"

"Better get one for yourself as well, Bry. Now stop ogling my boyfriend before I get tempted to check if those prop daggers have any stab in them."

He gave you a playful scandalized look before walking away, making a big show of wiping his sleeve at the corner of his mouth to get a laugh out of you.

You turned back to face the monitor, only to have your face inches away from the 'fabled mango' that had a rather large corner of the internet in absolute shambles whenever a picture would be released that had it in plain view. Your eyes traveled upwards until they met with Tom's ocean blue ones, your boyfriend greeting you with a wide smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes that he was barely trying to keep contained.

"I suggest you take a step back unless you're fully prepared to give all our colleagues a show," you warned him, starting to mirror the expression on his face.

"But this is such an enticing view, sweetheart, why would I want to give it up?" he shot back, fingertips lightly tracing along your jawline. "And I highly doubt that you're fully prepared to give our colleagues a show."

You only responded to him by slowly running your tongue across the top row of your teeth. "Are you sure about that, sweetie?" That made him take a step back, causing you to break out into a wide grin and scrunching your nose at him. "So how's the costume feel?" you asked him while you two walked toward his trailer.

"Surprised it still fits, if I'm being honest," he answered you with a slight laugh. "Actually it might…fit a little better than it did a decade ago."

"Ooh, good you're still here." You both gave Kate a small wave as she jogged up to you. "I was about to tell you to make your way to Costuming to see if you needed any adjustments. Looks like you read my mind." She gave a quick look at your now joint hands, Tom hooking his finger around one of yours. "Y/N, I'm sure you can handle any adjustments he'll need so you two can go and work on that while we're setting up for the shot with the prop frog. And in case you two wanna say hi, Chris will be here today to record his lines as Frog Thor."

As if on cue, you heard a booming voice from several yards away. "Hi, Brother! Hi, tiny terror! Am I gonna be an uncle yet??"

"Not yet, Chris!" you both hollered back at him, making the Australian wave his hand in a jokingly dismissive manner at you before stepping in to the ADR area.

"There is something new about this costume now that I quite like," Tom spoke up again when you were just outside his trailer. "When I first had it, the inner layer under the metalwork used to be just one piece, like a bodysuit. Made it a whole affair just to go to the bathroom. Now it's a shirt and trousers setup and has a suspender mechanism worked into the metal to secure the bottom half in place. Made my day much easier."

"Well you're very welcome, sweetie," you responded absentmindedly, closing the trailer door.

"This was your work, goddess?"

"Uhm...yeah. I did some remote consultation last year for another superhero costume. The actor's main concern was how he'd pee while wearing the thing, so I drew up some sketches, made his suit a bit modular. But it was gonna be a conflict of interest if they got me for costume design considering my involvement with Marvel, so we minimized my work to justify not including my name in the credits."

You let out a tiny yelp feeling him walk behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as his nose traced a line from your collarbone to your ear. "Hmm…conflict of interest? So DC, then?" he rasped, nipping at your earlobe.

"Uh huh," you answered him breathlessly, leaning in to his embrace. "What I learned making the sketches for the Batsuit, I adapted into the adjustments for your costumes."

Something in the air shifted once the words left your mouth. His hold on you shifted into what almost felt…possessive. "Precious little mortal." The growl in his voice had you growing weaker in his arms. "Consulting behind enemy lines. For the man that I knew for a fact once held your attention so…fervently."

"Why sweetie, are you--Are you jealous? It was a college crush, and a light one at that." You turned in his arms to pull him into a quick kiss that quickly became heated, his hands moving to the backs of your thighs to lift you off your feet and press you against the wall of his trailer's tight entryway.

"It should matter not, so long as you remember that you are mine," he murmured against your lips, securing your body against the wall before moving to undo the suspenders under the metal armor by his hips. "Do you know what I particularly enjoy about your modifications, sweet Y/N?"

You shook your head at him, feeling your arousal pooling between your legs as he smirked at you, hearing the snap of the suspenders from underneath the armor coming off.

"Ease of access," he said simply, shuffling his pants down his thighs and freeing his quickly hardening length. His smirk widened into a devilish grin when he slipped his hand between your legs to find nearly drenched panties. "So gloriously eager…" he teased, moving the fabric to the side.

A high-pitched moan slipped from your lips when he eased his way into you, inch by torturous inch, in shallow thrusts. "Tom, sweetie I--"

"Thomas isn't here right now, pet."

Oh God. Oh fuck. "Loki?!"

"Such a clever little mortal," he grunted, starting to move in shallow thrusts, the tip of his cock easily brushing against a spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars especially from this angle. "Tell me you're mine." He let out a staggered breath, groaning into the crook of your neck as your warmth surrounded him. "T-Tell me who this gloriously tight p-perfect little quim belongs to."

"Y-You--oh f-fuck!" you told him shakily. "I belong to you. I'm yours, I'm all yours."

Obscene moans bounced off the walls of his trailer as he bit and sucked at your neck, working his hand between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit. "Louder, darling. Say my name. Scream it. Let everyone who dares listen know that only I may claim you like this."

Your body started to shake with how hard your climax hit you, your walls fluttering and clenching around him while you let out a guttural scream of "LOKI!" that might've scratched your throat halfway raw. Before you could say it again, he slanted his mouth over yours, muffling both your screams in a heated kiss that felt rife with desperation as you felt his release starting to fill you, his hips jerking in a staggered rhythm.

It barely crossed your mind that this might get you into a heaping pile of trouble. That you might have just put your job at stake for a quickie with your boyfriend. He broke the kiss with a slight gasp, kissing a path from your cheek down to your neck while you both took deep breaths coming down from your high.

When you heard his breaths grow softer you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and upper back, lightly stroking his hair before you tried to talk, the intensity of the last few minutes still having you struggling to form any coherent words. "Tom?"

You felt a slight wave of relief when he answered you softly. "Yes, goddess?"

"Look at me, sweetie." You pressed a soft kiss to his temple before he pulled away from your neck, nearly blacked out eyes meeting your own. "I love you. Only you." Your hands went to frame his face, thumbs tracing along the lines of his cheekbones. "I don't think I'll ever…No one else could ever--"

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in to cut you off with a kiss, the rest of the words you struggled to say dying off with a whimper at the back of your throat. You still couldn't find it in you to say them anyway. You're it for me. You're the last man I'm gonna love. There won't be an 'after you'.

"You know that, right?" you murmured against his lips, settling for those words instead.

"I do." He quickly stole another kiss from you before continuing, "Some days it just gets to me. The thought that someday someone might--"

"That will never happen." You crossed your hands behind his neck, pulling him close enough that he could rest his forehead on yours. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you're kinda stuck with me, sweetie."

"I may want to get that in writing one of these days," he shot back, his hands lightly grasping your sides before he pressed your bodies even closer together, if such a feat were even possible. "And if anything, you're stuck with me. There's no version of my future that I could ever see that doesn't have you with me."

He started to move inside you again, leaving you no choice but to process his words later, his hips moving in long, slow thrusts that had you feeling every devastating inch of him. "Again?" you whimpered breathlessly.

"You should know me well enough by now, goddess," he whispered, a devilish smile gracing his features and searing an image so erotically charged into your memory. "Once is never enough."

That was the day you agreed that quickies would never be an option again moving forward.

A/N: Another Kinktober 2023 story in the bag! Wait hold on…if I knocked out two prompts in this (kinda sorta), does this mean I only have 2 more to go before I get my initial goal or are y'all gonna absolutely snipe me ded if I pull that technicality? 🤣

I know I said 'bath/shower' with Magnus was next but I parallel-wrote that with this and this one got the banging out first while the other still has me blocked because smut is just…it's not my strong suit okay--it takes me 5-7 business days to get it done 🥴 Currently parallel writing that and the Conrad piece for 'slow & soft' and the President Loki piece for 'fingering' all at the same time so only time will tell which one of them will go up next 🫡

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

kinktober 2023 taglist: @azula-karai-27

[ajmakoko]

Summary of evidence and concerns:

Trump is a Russian asset working for Putin (see book American Kompromat by journalist Craig Unger or Active Measures documentary with Hillary Clinton(1), sources below). Elon and Trump are working together (2). They both have substantial ties to Epstein (3) (4) (5) (6). Trump stole election software in 2020 (7). Similarly, Elon Musk has been in contact with Russia for the last 2 years (8). This includes during the Ukraine War when Russia began using Starlink (9) while it was claimed they got them third party and not from Musk himself; however now appears imo to show Elon is a doublecrosser.

Starlink, Elon's satellite company, was installed in some voting machines across the country (10) and may have interfered with vote tabulation. Voting machines were found to be connected to the internet (11). An independent report on voting machines concluded that tabulation tampering was possible with current voting machines, so hand counts are vital (12). In September, Politico had an investigation finding Russian malware on a state voter registration database (13). Also, there were malicious fake texts from fake DNC organizations, connected to Elon who donated to them, that were fishing voter info (14).

Elon had results of election on an app 4 hours before official counts had it (15), per Joe Rogan podcast in a discussion to Theo Von. Earlier this year, Tana Monogeau, released info that she'd been offered millions of dollars to endorse the Trump campaign and that she knew others had taken the deal (16).

They will release more info admitting their fraud because they are a Russian asset trying to start a civil war here (speculation). They want us to be confused about sources and who to trust and what's real, they want to release the truth to anger us and lies to anger us. Trump has refused to write an ethics statement for transition of power saying he will transition peacefully (17). JD Vance has also told the EU that unless they allow X unfettered access to the EU (to spread propaganda), they will withdraw the US from NATO (18) - which will prompt wars or takeover either way and weakens Germany, who is entering an election since their government couldn't agree on Ukraine budget. A Russian space chief said Elon Musk’s plan to bomb Mars is a cover to put nuclear weapons in space (19).

Also speculation, are reports of widespread ballot rejection, especially for signatures. There are articles claiming already that it is because GenZ does not know cursive (20) - except the signature simply must match your driver's license. It's not a cursive writing test. Avocado toast but with gen z voting fraud. We do not yet have the ballot rejection rates but typically they are around 1% to 1.5% (21).

Crypto is how right wing conservatism got funded here. It's why it took off- it was basically UBI for those men, funded by foreign intelligence for this purpose along with other uses for crypto like dark money, drugs, trafficking, etc (22)(23). The least informed people we knew were investing in crypto when it was starting, mining bitcoins. They couldn't tell you what a stock or tariff is, yet they were making bank in crypto trading. Crypto trading, especially memecoins, appears to be an obvious scam to most because it's the stock market without ownership. So why were these 4chan pedophiles and nazis doing so well? Because it was just meant to give them money the whole time. And crypto is great for transferring money internationally from shady organizations to shady people (24). Far right catchphrases and meme campaigns dispersed online including X, give out the key words/catchphrases for the new coin that isn't a scam and will disperse money. People who are deep in these groups interner algorithms get these keywords first and normal outsiders will either not notice or will stay away. No normal person wants a coin that references Hitler if they are just scrolling memecoins.

Once the government has been taken over, they can force their memecoin as the national currency and then rug pull, which is also what Musk is likely going to do to Tesla at the same time. The entire point is to bankrupt America for Putin and his cartoon villain cohorts. Musk is already saying he wants to withdraw from US currency due to national debt (Trump added most of the national debt) (25).

If you're in Germany, take note. They are coming for you next, your election is soon.

News Links

(1) https://youtu.be/5umiMThrlsA?si=mwgr4U2c2jleJEBj

(2) https://abcnews.go.com/Politics/elon-musk-weighing-trump-staffing-decisions-sources/story?id=115730434

(3) https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2024/03/trump-infiltrate-voting-machines-georgia-2020.html

(4) https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/12/business/jeffrey-epstein-interview.html

(5) https://www.businessinsider.com/jeffrey-epsteins-ex-girlfriend-dated-kimbal-musk-brother-of-tesla-founder-elon-musk-2020-1

(6) https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/fire-and-fury-the-podcast/id1750757108

(7) https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2024/nov/01/trump-jeffrey-epstein-tapes

(8) https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/what-to-know-about-elon-musks-reported-phone-calls-with-putin-and-why-it-matters

(9) https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/russia-using-thousands-spacex-starlink-terminals-ukraine-wsj-says-2024-02-15/

(10) https://www.reddit.com/r/worldnewsvideo/comments/1gnxqmw/elon_musks_company_starlink_praised_by_tulare/

(11) www.nbcnews.com/news/ncna1112436

(12) https://www.pbs.org/newshour/show/inside-georgias-effort-to-secure-voting-machines-as-experts-raise-concerns

(13) https://www.politico.com/news/2024/09/01/us-election-software-national-security-threats-00176615

(14) https://www.opensecrets.org/news/2024/10/pro-trump-dark-money-network-tied-to-elon-musk-behind-fake-pro-harris-campaign-scheme/

(15) https://grabien.com/story.php?id=499986

(16) https://www.buzzfeed.com/natashajokic1/tana-mongeau-paid-political-endorsement

(17) https://apnews.com/article/trump-transition-planning-ca3a6be50d147b04b6498184e5599b1e

(18) https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/jd-vance-elon-musk-x-twitter-donald-trump-b2614525.html

(19) https://thehill.com/policy/transportation/499968-russian-space-chief-elon-musks-plan-to-bomb-mars-is-a-cover-to-put/

(20) https://www.businessinsider.com/gen-z-voters-struggle-signatures-cast-mail-ballot-problems-2024-11

(21) https://ballotpedia.org/Election_results,_2024:_Analysis_of_rejected_ballots

(22) https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/article/far-right-extremists-raise-millions-cryptocurrency-bitcoin/

(23) https://www.nytimes.com/2022/01/10/opinion/crypto-cryptocurrency-money-conspiracy.html

(24) https://apnews.com/article/cryptocurrency-coronavirus-pandemic-technology-business-europe-f7f754fc2c68b0eb0d712239323f26c3

(25) https://www.forbes.com/sites/digital-assets/2024/11/10/its-unsustainable-tesla-ceo-elon-musk-issues-us-serious-bankruptcy-warning-amid-huge-bitcoin-and-dogecoin-price-surge/

Personal Testimony from the dickbags themselves:

youtube.com/live/HBPNfAUPz08?si=PZQa_D_wbN9VoA6y

In the first minute:

"Your votes are rigged. We can win New Mexico."

"If you can watch your vote counter, if we can bring God down from heaven (he's referencing Starlink), we can win this, win California, win a lot of states."

https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/us/if-trump-loses-im-fcked-elon-musk-in-interview-with-tucker-carlson/articleshow/114024254.cms

“If [Trump] loses, I’m f*cked… How long do you think my prison sentence is going to be?”

Why does Elon think he would go to prison though? For what crime?

youtu.be/Zmc0EN8XAY8?si=5u_mJNte37r4JmUb

Trump:"Our little secret is having a big impact"

If Trump was so sure the election was rigged and they were going to turnover every state including California, then why hasn't he asked for a recount in all the states with representatives that didn't get elected that he thought would be? Shouldn't he be suing for recounts? He did it last time. Why doesn't he want an investigation this time?

#AssetForfeitureTrumpMusk

If they get locked into years of asset forfeiture from layers and layers of state and municipal claims and lawsuits (which will require discovery lol), we may be able to stop them. Which is likely part of why they are moving to bitcoin as well.

[dropsofmoonlightzine]

Happy Holidays everyone!

We hope you are doing well! First, thank you so much for your continued support of the Drops of Moonlight Zine Charity Project. Although the project has gone on for much longer than planned due to multiple hiccups that we have faced, we are still committed to have the physical and digital bundles distributed to those who have pre-ordered them. Once the hiccups listed below are resolved, we will be reaching out to those (contributors and supporters) who pre-ordered a bundle to collect shipping and handling, and ship everything out! With that, included below is a summary list of previous updates re: the current Murphy's Law poo that is holding the project up:

We're still missing 2/5th of the shipment of the printed volume. Production had been in delay because of the paper crisis and they arrived in increments slowly batch by batch. We bought from a small family-run vendor and they glue the covers by hand. We've been getting them in smaller batches, and two batches have yet to arrive. They don't ever update us re:status, but they have been consistent.

Our sticker order was lost in the mail. We're fighting with FedEx on whose fault this is. We have had to pay double customs to have it re-enter its country of origin and make the trip again, which is ongoing, and are trying to get reimbursed by FedEx, which is a lengthy process.

The coloring books arrived late and with faulty covers, and after much discussion with the company, it appears that the fault was entirely our own. One of our mods is paying for 400 new covers out of their own pocket and will fix them by hand.

Our local washi vendor pulled out and went bankrupt and radio silent. This was a huge problem both for budget and for getting a new one. We have one finally lined up, production has begun.

Booth has refunded part of our orders because it took too long, meaning our funds have further shrunk. We're in talks with Booth to save the rest. It's in Japanese so only one mod could handle it, and this is not the easiest.

The domain for our website was paid for two years and that was the time and funding allotted in the budget. These two years are up. We didn't notice that for the longest while, and then when we did, things like Booth happened, and we decided against renewing the domain so late in the game. We plan to ship the orders with Shopify and the portion of Booth orders that have not yet been refunded.

A few mods we won't name are on extended hiatus for critical life events that we won't call out for privacy, and because this project has gone on for much longer than anyone on the team has anticipated or consented to/planned for. This means the rest of the work is falling on fewer shoulders. Tasks and responsibilities have subsequently changed amongst the mod team since 2020; for instance, we don't have a mod in charge of communications right now and haven't had one in a while, which you do clearly notice.

We make all decisions together as a team, which makes us democratic and also slow. We react to things only together but it means we wait out mod meetings across four time zones for nodding off on all decisions.

Everything else is ready, layouted, translated, linked to, hosted online, printed, lined up, and arrived. Once everything else lines up/arrives, we will be reaching out to those who pre-ordered a physical bundle to collect shipping and handling, and then ship them out.

We realize that the timing of everything has not been ideal. We did not realize we bit off more than we could chew when we took this project on… and none of us Mods plan to take on anything like this ever again as all of us are doing this on our own time. We thank you for your continued support and wish you all a safe holiday season!

Love,

The Drops of Moonlight Zine Mod Team

Happy Holidays!

皆さまお元気でお過ごしでしょうか。まず初めに、いつも「月の雫」チャリティー・プロジェクトをご支援いただきありがとうございます。このプロジェクトは、さまざまな不運が重なったことにより予定よりかなり長引いていますが、ご予約いただいた皆様に、ZINEバンドルとデジタルバンドルをお届けすることをお約束します。下記の問題が解決した時点で、バンドル版を予約してくださった方々（寄稿者の皆さま、サポーターの方々）に���絡を取りZINEたちを発送する予定です。下記に記すのはこれまでこのプロジェクトの妨げとなってしまったことがらに関する過去のアップデートの要約です：

印刷会社より全量の2/5の出荷を未だ受け取っていません。製紙危機のために生産が遅れ、製本されたZINEが少量ずつ到着しています。今回購入したのは家族経営の小さな印刷会社で、彼らは手作業で表紙を糊付けしています。ZINEは少量のロットで納品されており、あと2つのバッチの到着を待っている状況です。

付録のシールで完成品の紛失がありました。国際輸送中に行方がわからなくなってしまったため、現在輸送会社のFedexと責任の所在を明らかにしようとしています。原産国から再度入国させるために関税を二重に支払う必要があり予算にも影響を与えるものでしたが、皆さまへ発送するためこれらの対応は現在も進行中です。

塗り絵の納品が遅れ、また表紙に欠陥がありました。印刷会社と確認した結果、どうやら私たちの責任であることが判明したため、モデレーターのひとりが、自腹で400冊分の新しい表紙を購入し、手作業で表紙を付け直している最中です。

マスキングテープを発注した地元の業者は倒産し、音信不通となりました。新しい業者に再発注する必要があり予算的にも大きな問題でしたが、ようやく1社が決まり、生産が始まりました。

発送まで期間が空きすぎたため、BOOTHで注文の一部がキャンセルとなりました。予約してくださった皆さまには申し訳ありませんでした。まだ残っている注文に関してはキャンセル期限延長をBOOTHと交渉中です。日本語対応可能なモデレーターがひとりで対応にあたっています。

私たちのウェブサイトはドメイン料が2年間支払われており、それが予算上割り当てられた時間と資金でしたが、この2年間が終了しました。そのことに長い間気づかず、気づいたときにはブースのようなことが起きていて、ドメインの更新はすべきではないと判断しました。Shopifyでの注文と、Boothでの注文のうちまだ返金されていない分については必ず発送する予定です。

このプロジェクトは、主催チームの誰もが予想し、同意し、計画したよりもはるかに長く続いています。モデレーターの何人かは私生活での緊急を要する事態によりプロジェクトを離れる必要があり、残りの仕事は少ない肩の上に乗っています。例えば、しばらくコミュニケーション担当のモデレーターが不在であることにお気づきの方も多い��思います。

私たちはチームとしてすべての決定を下すので、民主的であると同時に時間が掛かります。私たちは共に物事に対処しますが、それは4つのタイムゾーンにまたがって主催ミーティングを開催し、すべての決定でそれぞれが同意する必要があることを意味しています。

それ以外のすべてについては、準備を進め、レイアウトし、翻訳し、リンクを貼り、オンラインでホストし、印刷し、並べ、到着しています。すべての材料が揃い／到着し次第、ZINEバンドルを予約注文してくれた人たちに連絡を取り順次発送していく予定です。

すべてが理想的なタイミングではなかったことはもちろん承知しています。このプロジェクトを発足したとき、自分たちが扱い切れる以上のものを発案したことに気づいていませんでした。皆さまにはご心配をお掛けし本当に申し訳なく思っています。皆さまの変わらぬご支援に、心から、感謝いたします。

愛をこめて、

月の雫ZINE　主催チーム

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 3: #C8 vs #C2

#C8: Government employee and his white cat boss

#C2: High social anxiety girl has to befriend her whole class

Details and poll under the cut!

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#C8: White Cat Legend 2020 (Dali si Rizhi)

Summary:

Chen Shi, a young man from the countryside, journeys to the capital in search of his missing older brother, whose existence he only knew about upon his mother’s death. He knows neither the name nor face of his brother, and after finally arriving at the capital, he runs out of money as well. One thing led to another, and he finds himself employed at Dali Court, where he works for Vice Minister Li Bing, a large white cat.

On the other hand, Li Bing is of royal blood who was imprisoned because of his family’s treason. Now, he has to work in the government to atone for the crime.

At Dali Court, they review court cases from all over the country. But when an incident involving the esteemed ministers of the royal court breaks out, Dali Court is called to help, only to find themselves entangled in political threads and hit heads with an eccentric demon.

Li Bing is determined to get to the bottom of this, but how far can he go when he could regress into a real cat at any time when left unchecked?

Propaganda:

I’m tired of writing new propaganda every round, so I’m begging you to just trust me that it’s GREAT.

Intriguing plot? Check. Complex and interesting characters? Check. Comedy? Check. Drama? Check. 

The blend of comedy and drama is just so good. I started the show because I love cats and supernatural stuff. Who would’ve thought it would pull me into an abyss of despair of political intrigue. The cat demons turned out to be just the icing on the cake. 

We have all these different characters brought up in different ways that their ideas of what is Right conflict with each other. None of them are exactly Wrong or inherently Evil (well, except for maybe one guy), and this makes it so much more difficult to choose who to root for. You’d think everyone against the protagonists are the Enemies, but turns out even the protagonists are limited by their biases and unintentionally harm others. Even the two protagonists themselves get into arguments because of their different standpoints.

And I just love this because it makes them realistic, you know? The characters don’t always agree with their friends, and their enemies are not completely hostile either. It really all boils down to what they believe in. Sometimes their beliefs align with existing comrades, and sometimes they find it on the other side.

Production-wise, this show also gets a check on everything. As an adaptation, it’s amazing. The original manhua has quite a simple style—kind of like comic book drawings, and panels are all rectangles in one straight line. Storytelling is also simple and straight to the point. 

But the 2020 donghua? God, it went far and beyond that.  The animation team does not cut corners at all, which is a feat considering the show has a low budget from what I’ve heard. 

A short, simple scene in the manhua becomes an emotionally-devastating experience in the donghua. The animation choices, angles, music, and just everything else blend so well to deliver a STORY. This adaptation does not just copy frames from the source (like Blue Lock) or cut/reorder some of the scenes (like Horimiya and Sasaki to Miyano). White Cat Legend 2020 understands the material so well that it can creatively use the advantages of the animation medium to deliver an experience that exceeds even that of the source. Think Mob Pyscho 100 or One Punch Man s1 level of creativity. It even has mini stories at the end of the ending song. For s1, the mini stories are in stop-motion, while for s2 it’s formatted like a video game. You gotta appreciate the effort.

Please just vote for this show. It deserves to be in the Finals.

Trigger Warnings:

Cannibalism - There’s a cat demon who appears in human form, and he eats humans (it’s not shown explicitly, though).

Animal Cruelty or Death - said cat demon also eats animals raw (again, not explicitly)

Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore - There’s blood and fighting, and somebody also gets tortured in season 2. But again, nothing too graphic

#C2: Hitori Bocchi’s ○○ Lifestyle (HitoriBocchi no MaruMaru Seikatsu)

Summary:

Many of us know what it is like to transition to a new school with few to no friends in a new environment, going through the arduous process of getting to know people again. Bocchi Hitori knows this struggle all too well, having just graduated from elementary school and thrown into middle school. Unfortunately, she suffers from extreme social anxiety: she faints when overwhelmed, vomits when nervous, and draws up ridiculously convoluted plans to avoid social contact. It does not help that her only friend from elementary school, Kai Yawara, will not be attending the same middle school as Bocchi. However, wanting to help her, Kai severs ties with Bocchi and promises to reconcile with her when she befriends all of her classmates in her new middle school class.

Even though Bocchi has no faith in herself, she is determined to be friends with Kai again. Summoning all of her courage, Bocchi takes on the daunting challenge of making friends with her entire class, starting with the delinquent-looking girl sitting in front of her…

Propaganda:

This is a fun and lighthearted show. Watch it if you need something cute to chill out! The art is cute and colorful, the music lively, and the animation fine enough.

As it's adapted from a four-panel gag manga, the story is simple and focuses on the various characters. They all have pun-based names related to their main personality trait, so they're easy to remember if you know some basic Japanese (Hitori Bocchi means all alone, for example). The girls are all adorable and fun in their own quirky ways, and I loved seeing the heroine doing her utmost best to overcome her fears -and other challenges- to befriend them in the hope of fulfilling her promise. That's the power of the Do-Your-Best Fairy! They all care for each other (despite some teasing) and help Bocchi with her monumental task, never pulling her down for her struggles but gently pushing her in the back when needed.

But most importantly, Hitori Bocchi is a very relatable character. As someone suffering the same trouble, I related a lot with Bocchi, from her silliest worries to her escalating panic and weird schemes in an attempt to prevent anything wrong. Anxiety is faithfully represented, mixed with the right amount of laughing to how far Bocchi can get to avoid fearful situations in her very cute ways. It feels good to see a character like me in a such positive light! The struggles are real and acknowledged, and it’s really moving to see our heroine overcome them little by little in a very humanizing way.

This series has become one of my comfort materials, and I come back to it when I need hope and inspiration in everyday social interactions! If you need one last thing to be convinced, listen to that most adorable and silly song that will give you the Power of Motivation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGoGwlNmZUQ 

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[vincess-princess]

trying to write original small-form works ended up in this. not exactly small, but it's finished, and that's something considered i haven't finished a thing since 2020

Genres: sci-fi, dystopia, a dash of cyberpunk Word count: 10 228 words Summary: The research facility personnel doesn't like Dex much. Not a single one of them hadn't suffered from one of his meltdowns, be that a bruise or a broken limb. But they aren't getting rid of him. They can't, really. He is the reason the research facility has been built. The military that sponsored it are very interested in a mysterious virus in his body. And Dex? Dex is interested in putting as many spokes in their wheels as he can. Warnings: not spoiling it to you but on AO3 this would have gotten a "creator chose not to warn" tag.

Dex could feel them burrow through his flesh, weaving complex tunnel systems underneath his skin that looked like intricate red webs from the outside. The tunnels healed fast, and the next day the webs would look completely different, each time unique, like a snowflake. All this healing and tearing produced so much scar tissue his skin was growing bumpy and uneven - but at least dead flesh didn’t ache.  

But so far there was still nearly not enough of it in his body to not ache, so much that constant pain fogged his mind, slowed his thoughts and jumbled his perception of reality. It was not so bad, really; pain could hardly break through the veil of fog, and only an occasional sharp spike of acuteness tore through it – but just for a moment, and then everything went thick and bland again.

The medassistant above his head detected Dex’s heartbeat change and awoke with a buzz. Its flexible tendril with a needle at the end began unwinding, aiming at his left arm where constant blood-taking left ugly bruises on the inner side of his elbow. This tendril was considerably faster than the previous three, but not enough that he couldn’t break it too if he wanted. But he didn’t. Not right now, at least.

The needle dug into Dex’s inner elbow and began filling a little vial with coppery blood. The more of them there were, the stronger was the color. His was the brightest in the lab fridge, more so considering that activity in other samples ceased long ago – they couldn’t live outside the host for more than 24 hours.

The tendril drank its due and withdrew. Next to the bed a drawer moved out of the wall. There were two small white capsules inside. Breakfast.

Dex sighed and pushed himself up on the bed. Lowered his bare feet onto the cold floor. Shivers ran up his calves. Would it really hurt the budget to put a rug in here? Anything, really, just to brighten the austere, sterile containment cell, dilute the grey and white with some color.

But the management didn’t like him enough to fulfil his wishes. They didn’t like him at all, to be frank. It was probably all the equipment they had to replace and the new workers they had to hire after yet another of his meltdowns.

Through great effort Dex rose to his feet and shuffled over to the sink in the other corner of the cell. When he waved his hand before the sensor, water poured into his mug – thankfully, he had no restriction on it, because the infection made him really thirsty.

He washed tasteless pills down with water, then climbed back to bed in hope of catching some more shut-eye. The rough fabric of the bedsheet grinded against his skin, inflaming his sharp senses. His brain, flooded with signals of distress, instantly jumped into overwhelm, forcing a groan out of his throat. This was the worst of his illness: lights too bright, sounds too loud, surfaces too uneven, smells too strong. Doctors tried to reduce the sensory input – with limited success: Dex still had at least one meltdown on a biweekly basis. At least not every other day like in the beginning, though.

Just as he wrapped himself in a thin blanket, he heard the elevator on the other end of the hall open and familiar heavy steps approach. The man was limping slightly – seemed like his leg was still healing. Was the management really so short-staffed as to call Mike from his sick leave early? Modern medicine could heal broken bones very fast, of course, but for fuck’s sake, give the poor guy some rest.

Because Dex surely wasn’t gonna do that. As steps grew closer, he stood up and grabbed his mug from the sink, and when the door opened, flung the mug into the figure looming in the doorframe. A thump, an indignant yell and the clatter of the mug rolling across the floor that followed were music to his ears.

“You motherfucker!” Mike yelled. His stubbly face reddened – he was always quick to anger. “I’m so sick of you, you chinch-infested asshole. Can’t wait for them to eat you alive.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Mike. How’s the leg?”

“One day I will get to kick your corpse with it. And I’ll do it. I’ll be the first in line.” Mike promised, kicking the mug with such ferocity it could as well be the aforementioned corpse.

“I sure hope your leg heals by that time. So you can give it your all.”

“It better does.” Mike walked inside, grabbed him by the arm and tugged at it. “C’mon. You’ve got some tests to do.”

“Can’t wait.”

They walked down the hall. It was squeaky-clean, as always – a government research facility had to meet the standards – but there were still crumbs and dust that stuck to Dex’s sensitive feet. Walking everywhere barefoot didn’t help much when that “everywhere” was the lab, the gym and the shower.

Mike led him to the elevator and towards the lab. Dr. Forester waited for them at the door.

“Good morning, Dex,” he said.

Dex ignored him. Dr. Forester didn’t look too upset about it.

“Come in, come in. Mike, I’ll call you when it’s time to escort Dex to the gym.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Mike said to Dex acidly.

“Thanks, I will.”

The guard left. Dex listened to his steps getting quieter until Dr. Forester closed the door.

“Sit down.” He waived at the chair in the center of the lab. “A chair” was not nearly enough to do it justice, though. It was a throne of woe – for the sickest and the damnedest, with cuffs on the handles and at the footrest, a collar where the neck should go and a crown of a neuroscanner above the head. Too much time had he spent on his throne of woe – more than anyone else, as far as he was aware. The longest any other infected lasted at the facility before Dex was four months and eighteen days.

Dex was here for over a year already. He wasn’t sure how much exactly – as time passed, things began to blur. Now his life before the facility seemed a distant memory, a splash of color among the monotony of black and white.

No. He won’t drag those memories to the surface. Burying them again would be too much work.

“I’d really prefer not having to strip you into this.” Dr. Forester patted the throne handle. “That’d do good both to the research and to your well-being. You agree?”

Dex ignored him again. They’ve been through that countless times, and Dr. Forester was right – it hurt no one else but Dex.

Still, he would do it again, and again, and again, until they had to take his body apart limb by limb, but not today. Today the pain was worse than usual, and he didn’t have it in him today. One day wouldn’t change anything anyway.

“Seems like you are. We’ll see, though.” And Dr. Forester picked up a tonometer.

The usual tests followed. Blood pressure, glucose, urine sample, weight, height (Dex added half an inch over his stay at the facility), blood oxygen, ECG, brain scan and he forgot what else. His blood analysis had been completed by that point, and one of Dr. Forester’s assistants – Turner, if Dex remembered correctly – was putting the data into the database.

“Hm. The ironphage concentration is higher than usual today. Another growth period?” Dr. Forester mused at the chart of Dex’s ironphage concentration in the blood. It spawned the entirety of his imprisonment at the facility and grew in spurts: a period of fast growth, a plateau, growth, plateau. Every time Dex hoped a yet another spurt would be the last one, and every time it wasn’t. And it seemed now that another spurt was coming. Not good news for Dex and doctors both.

“It is within acceptable fluctuation, though…” Dr. Forester kept talking, but the sound of his voice faded into the background as another one pushed its way ahead. It was Turner banging on his keyboard like it was his mortal enemy, and the repetitive, annoying clicking rang in Dex’s ears, overpowering everything else. Though not exactly loud to anyone else, it rumbled through Dex’s body, making his muscles tense up and his head hurt. He barely suppressed an urge to cover his ears and instead clenched the handles of his throne so hard his knuckles went white.

“What is it?” Dr. Forester frowned. Damn, he noticed. “Dex, I sure hope you’re not scheming something up. We both know that tranquilizers aggravate your sensitivity.”

“Make it stop,” Dex exhaled. Words came out through great effort. Please, not another meltdown. Triggered by keyboard clicking would be the new low for him to hit.

“Stop what?”

“The banging. Keyboard.”

“Keyboard? Turner!” Dr. Forester quickly identified the culprit. “Tone down that clicking! Or better put it off until Dex leaves. The data won’t go anywhere.”

“Yes, doctor,” Turner said, shooting Dex an unfriendly gaze. Considering that once Dex threw a tonometer at him, leaving a sizeable bruise, Dex understood why.

“Is that better?”

Dex nodded.

“Good. Now, we’re done here. Off to the gym you go.”

Mike and Turner walked him down the hall to another door. There was a corner right behind it, but Dex didn’t know what was there. He never went farther than the gym.

A massive steel door, like that of a bunker, was controlled by a fingerprint lock, and, as Dr. Forester warned Dex, did not react to fingers that were for some reason separated from the body. Not that Dex ever tried, but the warning did change a couple of his plans. All the weapons in the gym were, of course, just training versions of real ones, and couldn’t kill a man, or so he was told – but they were still weapons.

Inside the gym was brightly lit, as always – they never listened to Dex’s requests to tone down the brightness. The rubber-covered floors were squeaky clean – not a trace of blood left from the last time. He’s gotta ask Mike about Trevor – they should have sewn his arm back on already.

The door behind Dex slammed shut. He looked around. The broadaxe he used the last time was missing, and toned plexiglass separating the gym from the observation room replaced. Pity they took away the broadaxe, even a training version. It was heavy enough to leave a good dent and crush a couple of bones.

A robotic voice began reading instructions from a speaker by the ceiling. They were the same from Dex’s first day in the facility, and he could recite them by memory now. The damn white coats kept putting them on every time he came to the gym.

“Shut up!” he yelled at the ceiling. The voice kept reading monotonously. Dex stopped listening.

He headed to the weapon rack and picked up his favorite rifle. It lay heavily in his arms, warm to the touch, like it had just been shot out of. A precise replica of a real-life SVD-X1 shooting rubber bullets. The bullets were real at first, but after the doctors saw enough of Dex’s temperament they replaced all the weapons with their training versions. Still, even the training version of SVD-X1 was light, portable, quick and precise, and reliable like a Swiss watch.

It's been a while since he held Glasha in his arms, and it felt like being reunited with an old friend. It did exactly what Dex wanted from it, didn’t manhandle him and perform tests and experiments on him – what’s more to ask?

Yeah, a bitter thought flashed through Dex’s mind, the facility had really lowered his standards.

The observer – Turner, most likely – must have seen him cradle the rifle and seized the chance. The robotic voice changed its tune mid-word and launched a “precision check”. On the opposite sides of the gym, a good 300 feet away, three targets were lowered from the ceiling. One was about 20 inches wide, the other – 7, and the smallest one – barely 2.

Oh, so they returned to the basics. Out of caution, probably – they didn’t expect him to show his top results after a week of solitary confinement – but Dex could already feel boredom wash over him. He hit those targets during his first month in the facility, why go back to it?

He took his earmuffs off the weapon rack – the gunshots deafened him for good five minutes otherwise – returned to the position and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He felt Glasha’s buttstock nest comfortably against his shoulder, leveled the scope against his eye. He closed his eyes, inhaled and called to the ironphages. Here’s a job for you.

The red webs on his hands filled up and reddened. Adrenaline rushed through his body, overwhelmed his mind with unexplainable confidence, almost like Dex had already seen everything happen. His fingers grew stronger, his hold – more even, Glasha seemed weightless. He narrowed his eyes.

Bang, bang, bang – the three targets fell back and rose ashamedly to the ceiling.

“Boring!” he yelled to the plexiglass, rubbing his shoulder where the recoil hit. SVD-X1 was nearly not as bad as, say, Barrett M72-V1 (not to say lighter), but it was still a sniper rifle. Precision and strike strength came with a price.

Turner must have been annoyed at his expression of boredom: the targets began moving, then doubled in numbers, then sped up. Dex kept shooting methodically, almost without thinking: ironphages didn’t need him to. They granted his arms balance and strength, kept up with the speed, postponed muscle fatigue. Dex reveled in this thoughtlessness, this utter concentration on one thing only: it gave him relief from his thoughts and even lessened the pain.

When the routine was over, Dex was almost disappointed. But then Turner launched the next program – melee. Dex liked it less than precision shooting, but he took what he could get.

He went to the weapon rack, took off the earmuffs and picked a nylon knife. He weighed it in his hand, reminding the ironphages of the weight, the shape of the handle, the point of balance – and then he heard a voice.

Dex was going to brush it off - Turner was speaking on the intercom, probably, - but then another voice joined in. It was low, booming. Then spoke one more person – a woman, judging by the higher pitch. Dex couldn’t make out the words, but could distinguish the intonation quite well.

And it was very telling: both unfamiliar voices were measured, authoritative, commanding. Soldiers spoke like that.

Oh, come on. Dex told them numerous times he would rather die than work with the military, and they never listened. His fingers clenched the handle of the knife. His answer was gonna be the same, and he would show them that.

The knife collided with the glass and bounced off it so hard it landed far behind Dex. It left a shallow dent – they may have reinforced the glass specifically for this kind of Dex’s tantrums, but his growing strength eventually outgrew it, and they couldn’t afford to replace it every couple weeks.

“I ain’t joining the army!” he yelled. His voice echoed all over the gym, rumbled in his ears. Dex winced, but continued.

“Fuck your army and fuck you!” He picked up a heavier knife and flung it at the glass. This dent was noticeably deeper. The ironphages clearly banded up in there to help him convey his point.

The voices behind the glass went quiet for a moment and then began gabbering with growing intensity. The male voice boomed, the female sizzled. Turner could barely be heard – these two must have completely overpowered him. Dex felt no pity for him.

“Fuck! You! Fuck! You!” Dex chanted as he grabbed Barrett M72-V1 off the weapon rack and fired the whole magazine into the glass.

The recoil was so powerful his shoulder exploded with pain, making him drop the rifle with a groan. But it was worth it – the bullets, though rubber, dove deep into the glass and nestled there snugly, framed by snowflake-like halos of cracks.

The glass didn’t break, but his demonstration of discontent sure had an effect on the observers.

“Stop that right now!” Turner’s trembling voice demanded over the loudspeaker.

“Or what?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Turner tried to be ominous, but sounded desperate instead.

“You for real? I’m supposed to be afraid of something I don’t even know about? You’re a horrible negotiator.” Dex picked up another knife and twirled it between his fingers.

“It’s gonna be worse than anything you’ve had before.”

“Really? Now I’m interested. Roll out your new punishment.” Dex flung the knife at the glass again. Turner’s breath audibly faltered at the collision.

“You don’t wanna go through it. Just stop that and you won’t get it,” Turner tried one last time. But Dex was unimpressed.

“Come on! How many guards is that gonna be this time? Ten? Twenty?”

Turner emitted a short laugh. “None.”

Then a hiss came from somewhere above. Dex’s sensitive nose caught a whiff of something bitter and acrid. Then a yellowish gas began blowing into the room, painting everything in vomit-colored residue.

They were sedating him!

Dex couldn’t not agree that this was something new. He’d rather have ten guards. At least those were breakable. He couldn’t break a gas’s leg, try as he might.

“Cowards!” he yelled to the glass, hoping to provoke Turner, but no more sounds came from the loudspeaker. Dex kicked the weapon rack with frustration, but it hurt his toes, so he left it alone. He sat by the wall, coughing as more gas entered his lungs. His head felt heavy and foggy; ironphages, detecting something fishy in the system, rushed to remove the harmful molecules, but they were soon overpowered. The gas was so dense by that point Dex couldn’t see the opposite wall of the gym. It was the first time Dex wished there were more of the phages.

He succumbed to the sedative a couple minutes later. The blissful darkness came abrupt and quick like a hammer to the head.

***

Dex didn’t know how much time he slept – his cell had no windows – but when he woke up, the lights were out. Must be nighttime then.

A headache so bad the hammer might as well have been real kicked in. Moving also didn’t bring much relief: the ironphages were hard at work cleaning his body of toxins and were more active than usual. Combined the pain was so bad Dex could barely move a hand.

He needed to pee, but not badly enough to attempt getting up, so he turned to the other side, pulled up his blanket and fell asleep again.

The next couple days were the same, except he did force himself to pee at some point: they wouldn’t change his sheets with him still in the cell, and he didn’t want to sleep in a wet bed. Dex was thankful for the residual sleepiness that helped him fall asleep hard and fast every time. He wouldn’t be able to bear all that pain while awake.

Aside from the medassistant taking his blood samples, nobody bothered him, or he slept right through it. He was undoubtedly watched – Dr. Forester would never leave his test subject unobserved while on a new drug, because the ironphages’ reaction was unpredictable. They rejected the mildest painkillers with such ferocity Dex thought his insides were burning and limbs torn off piece by piece. Then they healed his broken arm in a matter of days. If at first Dex confidently labeled them parasites, now he was not so sure.

He did wish he never got them, though. As miserable as his life was before the facility, it was still life. This was just existence.

He finally awoke at night, his throat parched and his eyes dry, but the headache was gone and the phages calmed down a bit. He let medassistant take his blood and, looking at the coppery liquid in the vial, realised how hungry he was.

There were six breakfast capsules in his little drawer. So he missed three mornings.

He didn’t have to wait long for someone to remember about him. Mike thumped loudly down the hall and unlocked the door.

“I did not miss you,” he announced from the doorframe.

“C’mon, you’re glad to see me alive and well.” Dex highlighted the last word, smiling.

“The only time I’d be glad to see you is when I get to see your dead body.”

“You’re so rude. Did your mama not teach you manners?”

“Shut up and walk.”

Mike escorted Dex to the lab and handed him over to Dr. Forester, who seemed unusually invigorated. Got another questionable medicine to test on him?

“Dex! How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Dex grumbled. He didn’t like talking to Dr. Forester, but he had a request to make. “What was that crap you made me breathe? Could at least tell me beforehand.”

“A new sedative the QC came up with. For larger groups of enemies designated for capture. Our intel has got ahold of its composition, so we recreated it to see it in action.”

“Bet you tested it on regular humans already.”

“That’s right.” Dr. Forester seemed neither surprised nor indignant. He talked about the subject with his usual ease, which did not, in turn, instill ease in Dex at all.

“And?”

“Let me say… the QC chemists have got a load more brainstorming to do if they want a healthy labor force.” Dr. Forester smiled. “Just another proof of our superior technology. Now, as you’re the only remaining test subject,” – Dex winced, - “would you mind describing what inhaling the gas felt like?”

“I might,” Dex began carefully, “if you fulfill my request.”

“Taking advantage of me, huh?” Dr. Forester said light-heartedly. “You’ve got your charm, I’ve got to admit. Ask away – within reason.”

“I want new clothes, these have been worn to bits. And a rug in my cell.”

“Your room, you mean?” Dr. Forester politely corrected him. Dex grimaced. God, who all that farce was for? “Well, that can be done. What color?”

“Pink. And fluffy.”

“I’ll put in an order. Say it’s for science purposes.” Dr. Forester winked at Dex, and he felt like a bucket of sewer water had been upended over him. “Now, let us proceed to our usual tests, and you can tell me about your experience with the gas along the way.”

That day was shower day, and after gym (the plexiglass had already been replaced, as if Dex never shot at it) Dex got to wash off all that sticky, smelly residue of the gas off his body and change into new clean clothes – simple white T-shirt and pants again, but at least without holes between the thighs. No shoes, though – the management believed it could somehow stop him should he make up his mind to escape. Dex could tell them that he would walk on white-hot nails barefoot if it would get him out of the facility, but he knew how paranoid the management was by that point. They could easily make him walk around naked for all he cared.

He sat down on his bed, combing through his hair with his fingers. It had already grown to reach his shoulders, and he didn’t care enough to ask to have it cut. Dex hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a long while, but he was sure he now looked just like Luke in his rockstar phase, only without that stupid heart tattoo. The girl dumped Luke three weeks after he had it done. Oh how Dex laughed at him.

He missed him. He missed him so much it hurt.

***

The next day he woke up from the pain. It hadn’t happened in a while: as the phages began multiplying and pain increased, so did his body’s adaptability. He cried and screamed on day one and slept soundly on day twenty. This seemed to be day one of another growth spurt, as Dr. Forester predicted.

Every time they believed a spurt would be the last one – a human body simply couldn’t host that many phages – and every time they were wrong.

When Mike came, Dex threw his hand over his forehead in a “dying Victorian maiden” style.

“You’re gonna have to carry me. Bridal style, please.”

“No the fuck I ain’t.” Mike bared his teeth in a smile. “Get up, princess.”

He dragged Dex out of the bed by his leg, forcing him to get on his feet. Then they headed to the lab – five minutes late because they had to fix Dex’s bedsheets that he dragged with him to the floor.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dex told him as the door closed. “See, you can be a very nice guy when you want to.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Mike replied almost endearingly.

He had been working here since the beginning, and stayed as some left and others came. He stayed even after Dex broke his leg – on accident, of course. He didn’t want that chair to hit the guard.

“A bad day?” Dr. Forester greeted him sympathetically as Dex climbed onto his throne of woe. “Your blood tests show a spike in ironphage activity. We will, of course, conduct other analyses, but it’s pretty damning evidence that we’re having a growth period upon us.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dex said.

“Your analyses have shown a slight spike in activity even before the gas, but today it’s much steeper than usual. Could it be prompted by the gas?” Dr. Forester mused over the chart. “If it could… we could force ironphages to replicate by making the host breathe the QC gas. Or- no, I don’t think it’s the gas in particular. We could try other intense experiences and see how they react.”

Of course they could. And who was the only available test subject?..

“Don’t look so grim.” Dr. Forester must have noticed Dex’s face change. “There is nothing the ironphages can’t fix. Or rather,” he added reluctantly, “there has been – so far.”

“This is not a consolation.”

“That’s the only one I can offer you,” Dr. Forester shrugged. Oh how Dex wanted to claw his eyes out.

But Dr. Forester was the head of the research department. Whatever he saw fit to do, he did. The high-ranking military assholes that sponsored him gave him a “freedom of research”, since he was the first one to keep an infected person alive for more than a few months. It wasn’t really his achievement, but who cared what Dex had to say about it?

“Relax,” Dr. Forester told him. “It’s just a hypothesis, and the one I do not intend to test any time soon. Today we have something else to try.”

“Oh, come on,” Dex groaned.

“No-no, it’s not as bad as you think.” Dr. Forester took a small pill box from a table and opened it. A lone red capsule lay inside. It didn’t look remarkable in any way, but the doctor and both his assistants looked at it… almost reverently.

“We’ve been working on a new kind of painkiller for you – the one that would not trigger ironphages – and I have a reason to believe we’ve been rather successful this time. At least your blood samples didn’t react as violently as they did during earlier trials. They didn’t react at all, in fact.”

“Wait, so you got a reaction off my blood tests to all the previous pills and you gave them to me anyway?”

“Of course. Blood tests are not a be-all-end-all. The body might react completely differently. This time, however, we harbor hope for a much better result.” And he handed Dex the pill box.

Dex hesitated for a moment, thinking of throwing it in Dr. Forester’s face. What was that, the sixth painkiller they told him would totally help him?

They would force him to take it anyway, though. Strip him down to the chair and shove it down his throat, or sedate him with the gas and inject it, whatever.

The box cracked in half in his hands – Dex clutched it too tight without even noticing. Then he heard buzzing coming from Dr. Forester’s hand. He was branding his favorite shocker that Dex had become too well-acquainted with for his own liking.

“Don’t make me tase you, Dex,” he warned. His pleasant demeanor slipped off like a mask. A mask it was, in fact. “Just be a good boy and take the pill. I promise you, it’s not worth it.”

Dex knew that. He had learned that resistance it pointless long ago. It never stopped him before, but now… he was tired. Tired from the pain, the brain fog, the constant sensory overload. And this – this was a potential relief, feeble as it could be.

“Fine,” Dex said grimly. “But if it’s another blow-“

“It’s not.” Dr. Forester was growing impatient. “Need water?”

Dex threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed it in a big gulp. It slid down his throat effortlessly.

“Very well.” Dr. Forester looked relieved. “It should take effect in about half an hour, and then you’ll do a regular training routine at the gym. We need to ensure that the pill doesn’t affect your performance.”

Dex did not reply. He listened to his body, and even ironphages seemed to slow down in anticipation: what did this idiot take this time? Should we show him it’s bad to take meds from shady scientists?

Dex waited for more pain to come. He waited. He waited. He waited. The scientists around him returned to their business, paying no attention to him at all. Only Dr. Forester cast an occasional look in his direction – to catch the moment when Dex falls to the floor and starts thrashing and screaming, probably. At least that’s how it went the previous five times.

Then the pain began to fade.

No way, Dex thought. No way had they finally made a drug that could help him. It was impossible. Nothing could help him, least of all these white-coated rats. He had already learned to live with it, in a way. And now in half an hour a little red pill crushed the wall of his indifference he spent a year erecting around his pain and misery.

“Dex? What is it?” Dr. Forester, an observant asshole, noticed his face change and approached. “Do you feel something?”

“No. Yes. No. Not sure,” Dex said hoarsely. “Gimme some time.”

“Alright.” Dr. Forester returned to his work, but Dex could see he was mostly watching him instead of his papers.

And Dex waited, and the pain decreased until only a sore aftertaste of it was left in his muscles.

He forgot how it felt. He stretched his legs, tilted his head, waved his arms. Nothing.

“Well?” Dr. Forester practically ran towards him. At any other time Dex would laugh. “Any effects?”

“It’s gone,” Dex said. “The pain. It’s gone.” His voice came out so much clearer he could barely believe it was his. “What the hell is it?”

“We call it “The Soother”,” Dr. Forester said, smiling. “The best minds of the Federation worked on it for months. All so that you could feel better, Dex.”

“The military paid them,” Dex huffed, but he couldn’t remain skeptical when he could think and feel clearly for the first time in more than a year.

“That too,” Dr. Forester agreed lightly. “A little financial incentive never hurts, you know. Now, we’ve got to take some more tests and you’re off to the gym.”

Dex reveled in sharp pain from the needle in his skin – it didn’t just add to his main pain now, no, it highlighted the contrast between then and now. Then he went to the gym. With a decrease in ironphage activity his reflexes and strength were lacking, but his mind was clearer than ever, and that evened out his performance a bit. Overall, he did pretty good, even though the military rats behind the plexiglass were not quite as satisfied.

Of course, he could hear them – they didn’t particularly try to be quiet. In fact, they were discussing something – not hard to guess what exactly – with great fervor.

The pill worked really well. And Dex really didn’t want to be sedated again. But he hated the military more. So he lay down on the floor, crossed his arms on his chest the way dead people about to be cremated had their arms positioned and closed his eyes.

“Dex?” Dr. Forester said into the dynamic. “What are you doing?”

“Resting.”

“Please continue your training routine.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I ain’t a monkey in a circus.”

“Dex.” Dr. Forester heaved a heavy sigh. “They are our sponsors. They have to see the results of our work.”

“You’ve got your tests. Show them those and leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t.” Dr. Forester’s voice hardened. “You like the effect of the pill, right? Must be nice to not be in pain all the time. Well, it takes money to produce. A lot, in fact. And unless our sponsors see the results, we won’t make any more of it.”

Dex sighed and dove deeper into the feeling of his body. Felt every ironphage, traced every little tunnel they burrowed, tasted the metallic copper of the blood the little tunnels filled with. The phages moved like in slow motion, like they were poisoned roaches that were at the brink of death and didn’t react to humans’ presence anymore. The drug lulled them into sleep, instilled the sense of calm in them, weakened the connection to the hivemind. They still moved, driven by the energy from his blood and fat cells, but now just barely.

Yes, no pain felt good, almost too good to be true. But the relief came from the people he hated most, and it was nauseating.

He got up and continued the routine with cold, slimy shame coiled up in his stomach.

***

“It slows the phages down.”

“That’s right.”

“Ain’t that counterproductive? They won’t help in battle.”

“Oh, the drug isn’t supposed to be taken less than two hours before any intense action. But a couple hours of pain in exchange for a painless rest of the day – isn’t it better than nothing?” Dr. Forester scribbled something on his tablet. “Of course we still have to test for side effects. But what we have now is already promising.”

“And of course I’ll be the test subject.”

“Of course. You have something against it?”

“I…” Dex hesitated. Sure, they ain’t doing it out of the kindness of their hearts, but no pain is no pain. And it’s not like they wouldn’t just make him take the pill by force if he refused. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Dr. Forester made a surprised face. He didn’t really pull it off. “Except the usual tests and daily accounts of your well-being.”

“And how long is that gonna last?”

“Of course, it would be best to conduct a long-term research of five plus years… but we don’t have that time. So, a month.”

A month. It was nearly not enough, but Dex would have time to think.

“Alright. I agree.”

Dr. Forester smiled triumphantly.

“I knew you’d come to the right decision, Dex.”

***

The next month was simultaneously the best and the worst month of Dex’s life. The pain was now present only a couple hours a day, when he was training. His stats did lower, but were still way above those of an average human’s. But now he didn’t have to endure constant pain to get there.

And the military didn’t even try to hide now. The guy with a booming voice was often studying Dex’s tests in the lab with Dr. Forester, and the woman spoke loudly on the phone behind the plexiglass in the gym, perfectly aware that Dex could hear her.

He didn’t do a thing to them, They were the ones paying for his meds that kept the pain at bay. No compliance – pain. The funding had already shrunk by that point – the military didn’t like that it was taking so long. The drug was a breakthrough, though, and now Dr. Forester sported new eye implants and Turner had his crooked – not without Dex’s fault – nose fixed. The activity in the lab picked up, new guards appeared in the corridors (though Dex still interacted primarily with Mike), and the equipment was massively getting replaced with newer one.

“You’ve been on particularly good behavior,” Dr. Forester told him once. “Do you want something?”

“Beer,” Dex said. “And a smoke.”

Dr. Forester frowned. “We don’t know how the ironphages would react to that, and we can’t have a flare-up right now. Anything else?”

“A burrito. With jalapeno.”

That evening Dex was choking on his burrito, his mouth burning. A once adored taste was now unbearable. Maybe it was the phages reacting… but Dex was on the pill. And now that he could feel his inner processes much more acutely, he couldn’t blame ironphages for everything anymore.

He flushed the burrito down the toilet and ended up flooding his cell. He had to spend the night in a different one, on the other end of the hall, and the pillow still retained the smell of a previous resident. Weird – the last time Dex saw another infected was half a year ago. But maybe that were just his sharpened senses.

The medassistant was now drawing three vials of blood a day, and by the end of the first week Dex was feeling weak and dizzy. The ironphages rushed to replenish the blood loss during training hours, and it worsened the pain so much taking a pill after it was like breaking a cold turkey withdrawal. Dex grew even more dependent on it, and despised himself for it. But he couldn’t go back to a 24/7 pain. He just couldn’t.

Then one night he heard an unfamiliar voice. It was crying. “Please stop it. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Please-“

The voice was cut short, but it imprinted on Dex’s brain and didn’t let him go. He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew Dr. Forester was capable of anything in the name of “science”.

He was infecting others with Dex’s blood. Ironphages could be transmitted only through blood contamination, which is why the disease was rare. But once infected, the body couldn’t adapt to their activity and the infected was dying a slow, excruciating death over the course of months. Infection could only be transmitted through fresh blood. So that’s why they needed so much of it.

In the morning Dex broke the medassistant. Its details were scattered all over the cell when the guards arrived. Dex spent the night in another cell while the medassistant was being replaced. He didn’t get a pill that day. If anyone was somewhere near, he couldn’t hear them over his own screaming and wailing.

The new medassistant was sturdier than the previous one, but Dex didn’t test it anymore. The next day in the lab he told Dr. Forester outright:

“You infect other people with my blood.”

Dr. Forester didn’t seem surprised. “You’ve always been quick on the uptake, Dex.”

“Why?”

The doctor looked at him tiredly. All that money he was now getting obviously couldn’t buy him some rest: he had dark circles under his eyes and always held onto a cup of caffeine stimulant.

“Dex, you’re a smart boy. You can figure it out yourself.”

Dr. Forester was right. Dex knew it for a long time, just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. “You’re trying to find suitable hosts. Hosts like me.”

“See? You got it already.” Dr. Forester took a sip from the cup. “We still haven’t figured out what it is that makes you so unique. There’s nothing abnormal about your body that can explain your resistance to ironphages. So we decided it’s time to move one from studying your body to finding someone with similar characteristics. The more subjects, the easier to figure it out.”

“Found anything?”

Dr. Forester’s frustrated face was a clear enough answer. Dex always wanted to be special – who didn’t? – but fate was cruel to him: he never imagined what would make him unique.

“Where are all those people coming from?”

“Volunteers.” Dr. Forester shrugged.

“Bullshit. Nobody would agree to that.”

“Some people are desperate, Dex. And the money is good.”

“Why’d walking corpses need money?”

“Well,” Dr. Forester smiled his uncanny smile, “they don’t know they’re walking corpses.”

That was pretty in line with the military – promise lots of money, sign an NDA, and then the person disappears, never to be seen again. Everyone knew the biochemical companies they hired did human testing. Yet there were still fools hoping to get rich quick. Or provide for their families, who the money was automatically directed to once the person “disappeared”.

Dr. Forester was not in the mood to answer more questions that day, and the lack of answers kept Dex awake all night. How many have already been infected? Why did he never see a single one of other test subjects? On early stages the infection was almost unnoticeable – until one day you woke up with your entire body hurting like hell. But months had to pass before that. He couldn’t forget the voice he heard one night. How could the symptoms surface so soon?

Then he remembered Dr. Forester’s offhanded remark about the QC gas triggering growth periods. They used the gas to speed up the process. They used everything they could get out of Dex to infect more and more people.

But they helped him. They soothed his pain, banished the brain fog, dampened his too-sharp senses. He could think and feel clearly again. One considers it a given, something not worth to be grateful for. Not Dex – not anymore.

Days passed. The side effects of the pills turned out to be dry mouth and occasional mild diarrhea. Dr. Forester was content. As it turned out, the pill also slowed down growth periods. The always steep lines on the chart went down. The white coats could now both speed up and slow down the progression of the illness. Only a reversal hadn’t been yet developed. Dr. Forester said they were working on it, but he was lying through his teeth. Dex didn’t expose him. Let him think Dex believed him.

“The pills seem to be working well,” Dr. Forester said casually a few days later. “You look fresher already.”

Dex shrugged.

“We are thinking of extending the trial run for you. But the bosses are not so eager to provide funds, and the pill is expensive to produce.”

“Maybe if you didn’t waste so much money infecting people you would have enough funds for it,” Dex said sharply.

Dr. Forester laughed.

“Oh, son. Those projects they are ready to sponsor. The pill is produced exclusively for you, though.”

“I feel so special.”

“You think you’re joking, but you are, Dex. You are. The sponsors care greatly for you.”

“Well, I don’t care for them.”

“And that’s a shame. There will be no training today. Tomorrow is an important day for us and you both. You better rest, clear your head.”

“What? What day?” Dex pricked up, but Dr. Forester said no more, just made an impatient gesture. Mike led Dex back to the cell.

“All these new guys are absolute dickheads,” the guard complained on the way. “They don’t know nothing yet they think they’re hot shit. Who do they think they are? They imagine the military academy made them all high n’ mighty. Well, a bit of work here will take them down a peg or two. You gotta show them, Dex. Treat them like you treated me. Make them go through hell and high water.”

“Yeah, about that,” Dex heard himself saying. “Sorry, dude. For breaking your leg. You didn’t do me no bad thing. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Eh,” Mike waived him off light-heartedly, “the past is in the past. It healed fast anyway. The BIS treats its workers well - I didn’t pay a single byte for it. Got to spend some time with my family for once, too.”

Yet again Dex spent the night wide awake. He knew what was going to happen tomorrow. Another attempt to recruit him, make him join the army. The army that murdered Luke in cold blood.

All the previous times his refusal was firm and confident, decision made without a second thought. But this time was different. Now he had a major weakness. And they would surely exploit it.

In the morning Mike escorted him to the interrogation room – Dr. Forester called it “negotiation room”, but he couldn’t fool anyone with it. It looked exactly like those interrogation room in cop movies, handcuffs included. They were added after Dex tried to hit an officer. This time, though, he wasn’t cuffed.

“Good luck, buddy.” Mike patted him on the shoulder. Dex smiled weakly.

He had to wait quite a bit for the officer to arrive. She was a tall, strict-looking woman with a perfect bun on her head and cold gray eyes. She was escorted by two Special Forces agents with their fingers on the triggers of their assault rifles. One wrong movement – and they’d season Dex with lead.

The woman sat on the other side of the table and looked Dex right in the eyes. Goosebumps ran down his spine. This one will be hard to deal with.

“Hello, Dex. My name is major Wright.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. Cut to the chase." Dex tried to sound firm, but a bit of a tremble did leak into his voice.

“As you wish,” said the major. “You probably know why I’m here. My colleagues have contacted you with our proposition earlier.”

“I do. And they have.” Dex felt that if he looked the woman in the eyes, he would eventually fall for her hypnosis, so he stared at the table.

“Let me repeat it in case you forgot some details. We in Special Forces are always in search of new candidates-“

“Turnover rate too high?”

“It’s actually lower than in other units. That’s because we only work with professionals.”

“I’m no professional.”

“Who are you fooling, Dex? I’ve seen you in action. The best SF snipers could only dream of your skill.”

“That’s not my achievement. Before the infection I couldn’t throw a bottle into the trash can three feet away.”

“What was before the infection doesn’t matter,” major Wright said harshly. “Forget that part of your life. It’s here and now that matters.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For you too. It’s never coming back. You are never coming back.”

Dex knew that already, but at these words something cold turned in his stomach anyway.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You need to accept this, Dex. The ironphage infection is incurable. You will live with it for the rest of your life.”

“Which, as you might know, may end soon.”

“Maybe – or in a couple decades. Dr. Forester has no prognosis on this. But you’ve survived four times longer than any other infected, and that says something.”

“That just says that I’m lucky. Or unlucky. Depends on the point of view.” Dex clutched his fists under the table. The major poked into his every vulnerable spot.

“Sometimes one lucky soldier draws luck to the entire unit.” The major was disgustingly upbeat. She spoke friendly, but not familiarly. Previous recruiters all pretended to be Dex’s best friend, and it was nauseating. Not this time.

“I’m no soldier. Will never be. I’m just not built this way.”

“No one is born a soldier. But with enough discipline, everyone can become one.”

“You mean – everyone can be brainwashed into killing innocent people for the corpos’ gain?”

The major smiled. “That’s a rather… exaggerated way to put it. Corporations are valuable allies, but they’re not the beneficiaries of this war. The regular people are.”

Dex laughed in her face. It turned out too strained to sound plausible, but did convey his point anyway.

“Regular people are never beneficiaries of the war. They either get recruited, are promised riches and die like cattle on front lines while officers sit in their headquarters strategizing, or they get bombed and killed or displaced. There’s no other option.”

“They can go through the war, come out of it with several medals and not know poverty until the rest of their lives,” the major said. “Get free healthcare, a monthly pension, social benefits, free education for their children. That happens more often than you think.”

“And are all those soldiers in the room with us right now?” Dex said acidly.

“Funny.” The major smiled dryly. “Did you consider that maybe you just mix in with the wrong people?”

“The only wrong people I mix in with are you and the likes of you.”

The major rolled her eyes. “You truly are as stubborn as I heard.”

“My pleasure.”

“Then why do you think so many people enlist? If the army was that bad, people would avoid it like the plague, wouldn’t they?”

“They are idiots,” Dex said sharply.

The major smiled. “So your brother was an idiot, too?”

Dex’s stomach sank. They never mentioned Luke before, though he didn’t doubt a bit knew all about him. Maybe they thought it was too sensitive a subject. Regardless, that changed. And this woman, this soldier, would undoubtedly use him to their advantage.

“Yes. He should have never enlisted.”

“But he dragged you out of poverty. He sent your family quite big sums of money for a while, didn’t he?”

That was true. When Luke enlisted, the family finally had food on the table and paid bills. They even managed to move out of a communal roach-infested room to a small but cozy two-room flat. All while Luke was risking his life on the front lines.

“He should have never enlisted,” Dex repeated.

“It was going well, wasn’t it? His contract was almost over, and he even thought of prolonging it. His squadmates liked him, his commander praised him.”

“That praise was worth nothing.”

“In the ranks it is worth quite a bit. He could have been promoted within a year.”

“He could have been killed a thousand times over that year.”

“But he wasn’t, right? The enemy didn’t kill him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dex hissed, his anger rising in his chest – anger mixed with grief, as he could feel tears well up in his eyes as well, and the last thing he wanted right now was cry in front of the woman tearing his heart to bits. “War would have killed him sooner or later.”

“You’re rather pessimistic. Do you know that only 15% of active duty personnel die within first two years of service?”

“And how many die later?”

The major smiled a tight-lipped smile. “They have more experience, so even less. But that doesn’t matter – your brother didn’t plan to stay for much longer anyway. He could have waited for the end of his contract instead of going AWOL, though.”

“All the senseless violence must have gotten to him.”

“By that time soldiers are already pretty desensitized to it.”

“Not Luke. He was always… compassionate. Too much, even.” Dex remembered Luke’s calls from the army. When parents could see him, he was always smiling, but when he was left alone with Dex, his face always turned grey and tired.

The major smiled. “You’d be surprised at how quickly “compassionate” people forget about it on the battlefield. It’s you or the enemy, and no one chooses the latter… except your brother.”

“You’re talking bullshit. He didn’t defect. I know he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Whatever the reasons, he was found on an enemy territory alone – so, a defector. And we do not stand them in our ranks. Dex, it takes a lot to sentence the soldier to death. We don’t kill our people left and right with no rhyme or reason. But what Luke did was not a simple misbehavior – it was treason.”

“It’s just a convenient excuse to punish those not in line with your views,” Dex croaked. His throat was dry – from medication, surely.

“It’s the army,” Wright said harshly. “Soldiers who act out of line disrupt the service of whole squads. We cannot let that happen.”

“So Luke was just a scapegoat to scare others into obedience.”

“The “scapegoats”, as you call them, eventually reveal themselves with their own actions. Thinking differently is not a sin. Sawing unrest between others is.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dex shook his head. “You killed my brother. Whatever he did, he didn’t deserve death.” Dex was growing tired of this senseless talk. Whatever he said, major Wright always found a reasonable counterargument. He knew she was wrong, but he couldn’t prove it to her – and he feared soon he wouldn’t be able to prove it to himself.

“If you fear the same fate, Dex – you needn’t to,” Wright said unexpectedly softly. “He was an average soldier. You – you are special.”

Dex hated how often he heard that. He never chose a body that could resist a mysterious, 100%-lethal infection that also happened to turn people into supersoldiers. He never wanted that.

“So you will just imprison me for the rest of my life instead of killing?”

“What, are you planning something bad already?” The major smiled dryly. “Just hear me out, alright? And then make up your mind. No pressure.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dex murmured skeptically, but the major didn’t hear him – or pretended to.

“Here’s what we can offer you. Free food and lodging at one of the SF outposts – with personal rooms for every agent, each with a bathroom. Medical and life insurance – any injury, we’ll pay for treatment in full. Your family members are included in the insurance. In case you die, they are paid a significant sum of money. You will keep receiving treatment for your infection – a pill three times a day except before ground operations. And, of course, your salary… starting wage is 50 000 bytes a month.”

Dex couldn’t hold back a surprised gasp. This was more than his family earned in a year. This could pay for 50 of their monthly rent.

The major clearly enjoyed his reaction.

“Sounds compelling?” she said.

Dex ignored her, ashamed that he let his astonishment through. Now she knew how much the sum shook him.

“What about the phages?” he asked after a minute of stunned silence.

“We will keep working on a treatment,” said the major. “But we’ve got no guarantees that we’ll find it – if it’s even possible to create.”

Of course. They were interested in keeping the infection going – to get more supersoldiers into the SF. No matter that they would only last a few months – if someone would be as unlucky as Dex, maybe a year, - they would milk them dry and then silence the family with a fat check and a postcard with condolences.

He could feel the cold touch of her gaze on his skin. She was waiting, convinced of her success.

“I need to think about it,” he finally said – almost whispered.

She didn’t betray her satisfaction by a single gesture, but Dex could see more than other people. She won. Or so she thought.

“Of course,” Wright said. “I will come back tomorrow to hear your answer.”

She got up, waved to the guards and headed to the door. “See you tomorrow, Dex.”

Mike soon came to pick him up.

“How’d it go? You don’t seem too excited.”

“As usual.” Dex shrugged.

“You refused again?”

“Said I’ll think about it.”

“Wow, really?” Mike grinned. “That’s progress. What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t say it changed.”

“Alright, alright, you secretive motherfucker. I’ll find out everything eventually. You know, as much as Dr. Forester tries to stop it, everyone here knows everything about you. All the news spread fast.”

“You are all filthy gossips.”

“And you are our favorite subject to discuss. Now live with it.”

Dex rolled his eyes. “I feel like a micro-celebrity already.”

When they neared the cell, Mike’s face grew serious.

“If you didn’t just say that so they’d leave you alone… give it some thought, really. Being in the army is not as bad as it seems. Pays well too.”

“Indeed it does,” Dex murmured as the cell door closed behind him.

He shuffled over to the bed and lay down on his side facing the wall. He already knew what he had to do. He just needed to wait till night.

***

Eventually he fell asleep, but then awoke abruptly, as if someone yelled in his ear. The lights were out, and only faint light from the hall seeped through the small window in the door, a smidge of white on black tile.

Dex opened the pill drawer and took out the Soother. Swallowed the pill and lay back on the bed, waiting for it to take effect.

This time the phages resisted longer than usual, as if their little brains sensed something. They couldn’t read Dex’s thoughts – he checked – but they knew his body’s reactions to them. Didn’t matter, though – the pill overpowered them at any rate. Eventually their rushing slowed down to bare crawling, and the buzz of their nanomotors grew almost silent.

Time to act. This was his last pill on the trial – whether he would get a refill tomorrow depended on his answer.

He grabbed his mug from the sink, poured water in it and drank anxiously. Cold water slid down his throat and into the stomach. Every cell on its way reveled in its blissful coolness and smoothness. The true pleasures of this world were simple, really.

The mug was ceramic – a gross oversight on the management’s part. It survived multiple collisions with Mike and the ground, so they were kinda justified in not taking it into account. Dex kept it for a vague “occasion” on purpose. And the occasion was now.

He flung it into the floor with all his might. The mug cracked audibly. Then Dex jumped on it. Ceramic broke into large, sharp shards under his bare feet. Pain spiked up his calves, but the Soother quickly blended it in with the rest of the pain it was keeping at bay.

Dex picked up one of the pieces and placed it on the sink, then swept the rest under the bed. He raised his gaze and looked over the silent medassistant hanging over his head.

“Time we check your durability, pal.”

The tendril did not give up easily. When Dex finally tore off the needle, his face was sweaty and his arms hurt. The cruelly dismembered medassistant hung over the bed disapprovingly.

The needle was good three inches long. Just enough for Dex’s plan.

When he picked up the shard again, his hands were shaking. But the phages, sleepy as they were, came to his rescue even now, giving his fingers much needed strength. He pressed the sharp end to his inner arm and unflinchingly dragged it down, tearing the skin.

The gash quickly swelled with blood. Dex licked some off, tasting the copper. The infection changed even the taste of his body. It changed everything in him. There was no real Dex left. Just a host carrying around the most precious virus on earth.

And the military wasn’t gonna get it. At least from Dex.

There were other hosts, of course. The white coats would continue their work using their blood. But it would no longer be Dex’s. His phages will die after 24 hours, and their lifeless bodies would not infect anyone else. Nor will the doctors be able to learn what made Dex so different. No learning – no replicating. No replicating – no long-lasting supersoldiers. And with such a high turnover rate, the SF will dump the idea soon enough.

He sighed and dragged the shard across his right inner arm. The blood from the left arm already stained his clothes. Were Luke here, he would have made a stupid menstruation joke.

Luke wasn’t here, though.

Dex bit his lip, watching the blood run down his arms onto the floor. He waited for a small puddle to gather at his feet. The phages tried to make up for it, of course, but they were slow and sleepy like flies in the hot summer sun. They couldn’t do much about it.

Leveling the shard against his neck, Dex inhaled sharply. He was scared, of course. He never died before. (“You only die once, stupid!” said Luke in his head). Well, everything must happen for the first time.

He pressed the shard into the skin until he felt blood trickle down his neck. This was deep enough, then.

With a sharp, precise movement he cut his own throat.

His mouth filled with the taste of copper, blood streamed down his neck. He could no longer speak; he could barely see, his vision darkening.

But he had to make sure the phages wouldn’t bring him back to life.

With one last desperate move he drove the needle of the medassistant through his eye straight into his brain.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Matt Thornton

Published: Apr 12, 2023

A poll conducted in 2020 by the Skeptic Research Center asked a nationally representative sample of Americans the following question:

 “If you had to guess, how many unarmed Black men were killed by police in 2019?”

The survey offered answer choices ranging from “about 10” to “more than 10,000.” Roughly 31 percent of survey respondents who identified as “very liberal” estimated that police had killed about 1,000 or more unarmed black men the previous year, with another 22 percent overall believing the number to be at least 10,000.

In summary, 53% of Americans who identified as “very liberal” believe police murder somewhere between 1000-10,000 unarmed black men a year.

What is the actual number? Twelve.

According to the Washington Post’s comprehensive database of police killings, police shot and killed 54 unarmed people in 2019, 26 were listed as white, 12 black, 11 Hispanic, and 5 “other.”

It’s also important to note that the majority of the twelve shot were actively trying to hurt or kill the officer. For example, in at least two of the twelve cases involving black men, the perpetrators were killed while trying to run over an officer with a car. In another, an individual took and used the officer’s taser on him. In another, a female officer was being physically beaten by a suspect when she fired. All those cases were classified as “unarmed.”

“Unarmed” never means “not deadly.” There is always a gun involved—the officer’s. In many encounters, the suspect is fighting to get ahold of it. In the Ferguson case, it was claimed that Michael Brown had his hands up when Officer Darren Wilson shot him, in cold blood, in the middle of the street. Upon investigation, the forensic evidence as well as a half-dozen black witnesses confirmed Officer Wilson’s account. Michael Brown tried to take Officer Wilson’s gun and was charging at him when shot. The “Hands up, don’t shoot!’ slogan was a lie.

When you set aside cases where the suspect was actively threatening an officer’s life with physical force, you are left with one or two cases a year. In 2019, officers involved in two shootings were found at fault and sentenced accordingly. 

What is the net result of so many people being so misinformed?

After the George Floyd incident in June 2020, in cities across the country, regressive anti-policing policies were rushed in. In Chicago, this meant the department was down 1000 officers. New restrictions on the police were put in place that inhibited proactive/community policing, and several thousand violent offenders were put back on the street thanks to far left District Attorneys and activist judges. The net result was a 25 year high in murder for the city and hundreds more dead bodies, many of them young kids.

In 2021, more than 12 American cities saw record breaking levels of murder. Without evidence, ideologically-driven reporters parrot back to each other that this increase must be related to lockdowns. A closer look shows clearly that the constant attacks on law enforcement, budget cuts, and a climate of hatred fueled by that same irresponsible media have effectively halted proactive policing. Whenever that happens, violence skyrockets and thousands more needlessly die. The blood that covers media personalities, policy makers, and activists who’ve pushed the “defund the police” narrative will never wash off.

Because homicides within the black community occur at more than four times the national average, the people who will suffer most from these changes won’t be the upper-middle-class urban elites who foolishly push them through or the politicians and media personalities who have their own armed security. It will be poor, black Americans who live in the kinds of areas where 3-year-old Mekhi James was murdered, along with 197 other Chicago youth since 2020. It’s no wonder that black Americans consistently poll higher than whites in wanting increased police presence. The citizens in those high crime neighborhoods know better than anyone that cutting police funding doesn’t solve our violence problem—it increases it.

The narrative that police officers are looking to kill black Americans is a pernicious lie. Understanding this is the first step in making our cities safer for everyone.

==

If you care about black lives - and you should - you should care about accurate information and statistics, and telling the truth. Not about grand ideological fantasies narratives that get many more black people killed.

[jess-moloney-malarkey]

Just because I have some time today, and I sense some dirt kicking up from Renell's exhibition that Jess attended, let's get into and revisit some details about Jess's work. TLDR: Jess manages two talents, and clearly has a role within Ice Studios.

-read more out of courtesy for those scrolling-

This project was shared on instagram on June 6 of this year:

So, at least as recently as four months ago, Jess was tagged as an executive producer from Ice Studios, listed as the production company, for this project that was directed by Renell.

What is an Executive Producer? What do they do?

This definition is specifically for video production, but it's the same for most creative media projects. Given this, it's apparent that Jess's role is high level, and not necessarily always part of the grunt work. As I have been pontificating this whole time. At least in this instance and likely in other Ice Studios endeavors, her job is to:

Secure funding to begin a project.

Manage production budget for the project.

Oversee the entire project from concept to completion. (which can be done at varying levels of removed or hands on, on-site or remotely)

So, there's that. That's what she had a hand in for at least this specific project with onlunchbreak. She worked on that project, and was acknowledged for it.

Now, Renell's new exhibition, LAMBÓN, just opened yesterday. This exhibition is also serving as a launch point for a magazine she is creating. The exhibition website notes this, stating the title will be ICE, which is a nod to Ice Studios "founded in 2021 alongside talent manager Jess Moloney." It also notes that Renell started making clothes in 2021, later becoming a product designer for Ice Studios as well. So the clothing aspect of Ice Studios seems to be all Renell's brainchild, the designing and creation of the clothes. Maybe that was why Jess was never too involved in the clothing aspect and at clothing events, maybe not. Who knows? (spoiler: none of us!)

And remember how I've said in the past that I don't think Jess actively manages talent anymore? Well, contrary to others' belief, I can admit when I'm wrong, and I think I am about that.

Jess's management website lists Renell as a client, we knew that. And personally? Yeah, I think she might still be managed by Jess. Along with Quill Lemons, who is also listed on her website, and he named Jess as his manager in this 2020 Vanity Fair article:

Granted, June 2020 is now over four years ago. However, this does prove that she was at least managing talent actively at a pinpointed time (and when she got with Jamie in 2020. But that's beside the point.) Jess also frequently shares work that Renell and Quil do, which is pretty on par for someone whose job depends on the success of their clients.

Quil congratulated both Renell and Jess on instagram about the event, as did a couple others.

Why might Jess been included in a few people's praises? Because I think she still manages Renell, and this event showcase the great work her client has done/that she helped her client/friend/Ice Studios co-worker attain. Many of these photographs were originally produced by or in collaboration with Ice Studios as it is.

It's also not unusual for talent managers to only have a few clients in general, if anyone wants to criticize why she doesn't have more clients than just Renell and Quil. As stated via SAG-AFTRA:

Anyway. In summary: To me, it seems pretty clear from this that Jess has two talent clients she currently works with and supports in their careers. It's also reiterated that she co-founded Ice Studios. Which we knew. But co-founding can mean a lot of different things in terms of the capacity in which she did. It's obviously Renell's brand mostly, but Jess is involved regardless. That is demonstrated by her having a role in projects involving Ice Studios, with one being as recent as June 2024 where she served as executive producer.

[httpiastri]

hi!! so i’m very new to f2 (i’ve only started educating myself on it recently so that i can watch this season and know the teams + drivers), but when it comes to teams, is there a certain team that is capable of winning championships but also isn’t like, the best? like for example, one of their drivers can win the championship while the other driver may not perform as well that season.

(this is so specific i’m so sorry 😭)

dont apologize love!! it's a great question <3

you've chosen a good season to start watching, i think 2024 will be great!! with the new car, everyone will be kind of starting on the same level, and we have a lot of great drivers who will try to prove themselves this year. it's going to be wonderful 🤭

the way i see it, f2 is much more equal than f1, but it's still not completely equal. some teams just don't usually get good results, but there are several teams who are up in the fight for the titles every year. but different teams have different budgets, different levels of skill in their engineers & other staff members, and so on.

so i think i would say that the short answer is yes, some teams occasionally will win the driver's championship with one driver while the other driver finishes far from the top in the standings. i'm not sure if it's because the team has invested more money and time into only one car, because the car just fits one driver better, or because one driver is just better – i guess that differs a lot from year to year.

but i wouldn't say that there's just one team that fits into that category. in 2017-2019, the team's championship was won by another team than the team of the driver who took the driver's title. in those years, the drivers of other teams were just more consistent i guess. in 2020 and 2021, prema had two good years with two drivers who constantly were in the top of the points. in 2022, felipe drugovich was very dominant and only finished out of the points twice. and in 2023, it was a very close fight between the art gp drivers and the prema drivers, but the art gp drivers were more consistent.

i made a quick lil summary of the seasons since f2 (the version we have today) started, feel free to skip it if you want to;

2017 - charles leclerc won the driver's championship, driving for prema, but prema lost the team's championship to russian time (now virtuosi racing) as their drivers came 2nd and 4th in the championship (charles's teammate came 8th).

2018 - george russell took the win in the driver's championship, but his team, art gp, lost the team's championship to carlin (lando's team).

2019 - nyck de vries took the most points, giving art gp their second consecutive driver's title, but the team only came third in the driver's standings with 277 points, since his teammate nikita mazepin only scored 11 points all season. dams scored 418 points and their drivers came in second and fourth in the standings.

2020 - prema took the title, after having come second to last in the 2019 team's championship. mick schumacher won the driver's championship, but only 14 points ahead of virtuosi driver callum ilott. mick and robert shwartzman scored a total of 392 points for prema, while callum and teammate zhou guanyu took home 352.5 points for virtuosi.

2021 - oscar's year <3 in 2021, the team's championship wasn't really that exciting; oscar took 252.5 points, robert (who came second) took 192, for a total of 444.5 points for prema. the second best team, virtuosi, scored 288 in total.

2022 - felipe drugovich was quite dominant, scoring over 100 points more than second-place theo pourchaire (265 points vs 164). his teammate in mp motorsport, clement novalak, came in 14th with a total of 40 points – but without those 40 points, mp would've finished third in the championship instead of first. carlin and art gp were 8 and 24 points behind the team, respectively.

2023 - well, i don't wanna say too much about this season because if i start i think i might not ever finish. but i think you could say that all four drivers (theo pourchaire, frederik vesti, victor martins and ollie bearman, finishing in that order in the standings) of the top two teams (art gp and prema) all showed great pace all season. art gp took only two race wins throughout the season, whereas prema took ten. fred and ollie were extremely unlucky at times, though, and i'm not sure if it's because of the team or truly just bad luck. though, fred losing both of his rear tyres was definitely the team's fault... but other drivers had good pace too, like jack doohan and ayumu iwasa who finished 3rd and 4th, while their teammates finished 15th and 20th in the total standings.

hope this wasn't too long and i wasn't too confusing.... feel free to stop by if you have any other questions or anything love!! 💓

[parasiteneve]

Bunny Suit Bulma Cosplay

I really wanted to use this blog more to kinda document how I do some of my cosplays on a budget. When I first started cosplaying in 2020 I always felt an unnerving amount of pressure to produce cosplay content.

For Bulma, it was a very spontaneous cosplay choice for me. I started to get into Dragon Ball Z around Christmas time and felt myself limited with sizing options, however this was all very cheap and accessible through Amazon UK!

Wig: I bought this blue wig for around £10 on Amazon. You are very much paying for what you get with it so be weary. I'd say if you can find a higher quality option that suits you, go for it! All I did to it was detangle it, straighten it, crimp it, straighten it again, hair spray it using GOT2BE Glued and then trim the bangs.

Bunny suit and tights: so this is where I wish I did things differently. As a cosplayer who is VERY self-conscious about their body, I tend to overthink how costumes fit more than anything and I ALWAYS size up. I did not have to size up with this one, in fact, I should've sized down two sizes as the suit itself was quite stretchy and elasticated so there was way more than enough wiggle room. I'll probably order another one just so it's a little tighter and works a bit better for me. The tights barely fit so I'd say if you're a bigger person, shop elsewhere for tights. I don't trust any that come in these cosplay sets as they always seem to be one size that NEVER accommodates. The cuffs, tail and ears were all impressive quality for the price point.

Makeup Honourable Mention: I plan on making an entire post detailing my favourite products to use but the blush I used in this was the MadeByMitchell blursh in the shade 'Sweet Cheeks'. I swear by this blush. I'm not usually a fan of cream products but this sits so well on the skin and also I've found myself using it as a blush in my day to day life without any foundation or additional products.

Summary: For the wig and costume it only set me back £29.95! A really cheap cosplay if either Bulma or any other bunny girl is on your list!

Instagram: ParasiteNeve

Bulma art by Maxiuchiha22 on DeviantArt

Dividers: baexywth

[treasure-mimic]

So, since Unity is attempting to really wind down the news story I would at least like to give some kind of update and make my thoughts known on the response before we all move onto the next thing. This is less of a compilation of information like the last post and more me just giving a take.

That being said, if you weren't aware, since the big backlash against the predatory practices, Unity has apologized and backpedaled, attempting to assuage the worries of independent developers while keeping the potential for charging large budget massive success games somewhere down the line.

Our Unity Personal plan will remain free and there will be no Runtime Fee for games built on Unity Personal. We will be increasing the cap from $100,000 to $200,000 and we will remove the requirement to use the Made with Unity splash screen.

The Runtime Fee policy will only apply beginning with the next LTS version of Unity shipping in 2024 and beyond. Your games that are currently shipped and the projects you are currently working on will not be included – unless you choose to upgrade them to this new version of Unity.

We will make sure that you can stay on the terms applicable for the version of Unity editor you are using – as long as you keep using that version.

For games that are subject to the runtime fee, we are giving you a choice of either a 2.5% revenue share or the calculated amount based on the number of new people engaging with your game each month. Both of these numbers are self-reported from data you already have available. You will always be billed the lesser amount.

Furthermore, the CEO who was the center of all this controversy, John Riccitiello, announced that he would be leaving the company.

Now... I consider this to be a bit of a smokescreen. Not only by the fact that he will, almost assuredly, pull dozens of more millions of dollars from the company on his way out (we don't know the details on this quite yet but the ways that these things tend to work and his history with Unity the corporation speak volumes to it being all but guaranteed), but also, I don't know if he was the only problem.

Not to say he wasn't a problem and any company wouldn't be better off without him in it, he is, as the posts notes, historically, publicly, professionally, an asshole. But I think a mistake I made in that post, and a mistake many people are making with this story, is overemphasizing Riccitiello's role in all this. Yes, he has a history of saying horrendous, anti-consumer bullshit, but putting all the blame on him gives the other Unity executives a scapegoat, when they have drained this company as much, if not more, than Riccitiello, with nothing to suggest they aren't as corrupt, incompetent, and anti-consumer as he is.

[Image Description: a chart titled Summary Compensation Table which lists the gross and total compensations (of salaries, bonuses, stocks, options, non-equity incentives, and others) of Unity's top 5 highest paid executives for the fiscal year of 2022. John Riccitiello's (President & CEO) total compensation in 2020 was 22 million, in 2021 was 12.5 million, in 2022 was 11.8 million. Luis Visosa's (Executive VP & CFO) total compensation in 2021 was 41.5 million, in 2022 was 19.3 million. Carol Carpenter's (Senior VP & Chief Marketing Officer) total compensation in 2022 was 32 million. Anirma Gupta's (Senior VP, General Counsel, & Corp. Secretary) total compensation in 2022 was 19.4 million. Marc Whitten's (President of Create Solutions & the person who apologized in that public notice) total compensation in 2021 was 31.6 million and in 2022 was 16.2 million. End Description]

There is literally nothing to suggest that the pricing change was entirely Riccitiello's idea and the rest of these executives were against it, just as I'm sure it wasn't just him who fired 8% of Unity's employees and closed half of their locations just this year while maintaining these insanely high levels of compensation. Unfortunately, I think corruption just kinda permeates the topmost level of this company, as the executives have and will continue through Riccitiello's departure to milk this company dry while providing literally nothing for its growth or continued profitability. And this is not a problem in just Unity. Our current economy has seen the position of CEO and executive leadership become less about actual leadership or economic strategy, but as a status symbol and a source of wealth, continuously providing less and taking more, while staking claim to its successes while failure is usually blamed on the market. Very much a snake eating its own tail, the wealthy and important people are wealthy and important because they're wealthy and important.

But I won't go into it any more than that. I just wanted to get this out there to say that, I still don't trust this company anymore. I don't think this is going to turn around the developers who flocked to leave, nor do I think it should, and if you are considering whether or not to return to Unity, I would suggest not.

Personally, for my current project I've switched over to GameMaker Studio, which is also free to download for personal use, though it's limited to 2D games and I cannot vouch for it wholly since I've only just started using it. And, as a general statement and relating to the rant I just went on, while Unity was outed for this anti-consumer incompetence and maliciousness, the same people exist in a number of different companies and it's not always easy to know who's going to be next or who you can give even a basic level of professional trust to.

[ineffable-opinions]

One Room Angel (2023) ep 3-6

Final Review: Ok adaptation of a good manga. Final Rating: 6.5/10

Summary: An angel drops into the life of a guy with very little desire to live. What’s the deal with the angel? What will come of the guy when the angel leaves?

Pairing: [unresolved in cannon; so maybe] joousama uke X hetare seme or joousama X tsukushi riba or chibi seme X otokomae uke Almost pairing: kichiku seme X heibon uke

[ Originally posted by storge ]

What I liked:

Budget management

Setting the whole story in a single season – summer

[ Originally posted by storge ]

Sparse crowd and settings – even though this were at the cost of setting-related scenes in the manga that I liked. For example, I liked the visit to the host club in the manga but I really enjoyed the bit in live-action just as well.

What I didn’t like:

#1 Nuance sacrificed at the altar of synthetic sweeteners [high school, fireworks and picnic by the beach].

[Originally posted by my-rose-tinted-glasses] Main casualties:

Angel’s female classmate - an interesting character in the manga. A very made-by-Harada character.

Kouki’s brother - rice and the healing.

Kouki’s mother – her occupation and personality.

Did they have to go there? Really?

#2 Ending/post-credit scene.

Here’s the thing with manga extras – there can be varying takes on if or not it can be considered cannon. In case of One Room Angel, I took the extra to be part of the cannon. Waiting for beloved in the after-life is one of my favorite tropes. I absolutely enjoyed the angel’s reactions in the manga extra. I was looking forward to it in the live-action too, only to be disappointed.

#3 Kouki’s tears

The actor who played Kouki did a very good job. But I am still irked by the ikemen casting for a gachimuchi character. I wanted to see more sadness and misery in Kouki. It seemed too much to ask an ikemen to evoke angst in that manner.

That back hug scene on the road and the child pointing out Kouki – why did the director forgo tears there?

#4 Shonen-ai over-saturation

I am craving for more variety in BL live-action adaptations. I want more yaoi adaptations after this year's deluge of live-action shonen-ai. I want a pinku eiga based on BL manga. I want another Sei no Gekiyaku (2020) level ero-manga adaptation. I want some gei-comi (bara) adaptation. Someone, please make the live-action adaptations of Gengoroh Tagame’s Fisherman’s Lodge and Ichikawa Kazuhide’s Fire Code. Some fire and ice, please.

[sunb0rn]

makakasabay na ako sa ipon goals for our Elyu andtl tatt. thank you sa paghihintay sa akin 🥹🥹 alam niyo na yon.

mahal ko kayo @realithei @ipickedoutyourstar

na -senti ako nung nakita ko yung summary kasi tbh nung una natin eto napag usapan (late last year), sabi ko, parang di ako makaka sabay sa inyo.

though g ako sa plans- bibiglain ko nalang kako yung gastos as long as alam dito sa bahay na may lakad ako.

pero siyempre iba pa din yung pag iipunan talaga- baka mas malaki pa yung ma allot ko para makapag enjoy kesa yung isang bagsak pero super budgeted tas naguguilty pa ako/kailangan ko pa ijustify sa sarili ko na "minsan lang naman 'to" :/

gusto ko din yung joint effort sa pagkulay ng mga drawing natin mula 2020. hahaha.

[workersolidarity]

Photo: Valerie Macon/AFP via Getty Images c/o NPR

🇺🇲 WRITERS GUILD WILL VOTE ON NEW CONTRACT WITH HOLLYWOOD BOSSES AND CORPORATIONS

The Writer's Guild of America, a joint organization comprising some 11'500 members of the Writer's Guild of America, East and the Writer's Guild of America West, will vote from October 2nd through October 9th on a new contract with the bosses of corporate Hollywood, represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers.

Union members were sent back to work one minute after midnight (PST), September 27th after striking for 146 days. The new contract covers the period of September 25th 2023 through May 1st 2026.

"This allows writers to return to work during the ratification process, but does not affect the membership's right to make a final determination on contract approval" according to the bargainers.

Though the Writer's Guild of America may be returning to work, Hollywood is still not fully open for business as 160'000 members of the Screen-Actor's Guild (SAG-AFTRA) remain on strike Friday against the AMPTP, largely over the same issues as the WGA. Both strikes have been highly popular with the public.

Complaints by the Unions' membership include low pay, lack of residuals, too high a floor before workers are eligible for benefits, and particularly worrying, the AMPTP's use of AI to copy a performer's body, face, motions, and words in single-day sessions in which the content collected can be used forever without pay.

Under the terms of the new agreement, Minimum Pay for most writers will increase by 5% upon ratification and again by 4% and 3.5% on the 2nd of May in each of the following two years. Other increases will be a straight 3%. There will also be larger contributions to Health and Pension programmes, along with strong protections against the use of AI to generate content.

“The WGA reserves the right to assert that exploitation of writers’ material to train AI is prohibited by” the contract or by Laws.

There will also be large increases in the amount compensated for streaming videos, and the residuals will now be based on total viewership rather than just United States viewership, which has been the practice in Hollywood for some time.

“When a feature-length project is made for streaming with a budget of $30 million or more, the minimum initial compensation for a story and teleplay is $100,000, an 18% increase from the current rate and a 26% increase in the residual base,” according to the contract summary.

“Combined with the foreign residual improvements, this results in a 3-year residual of $216,000 for projects on the largest services, a 49% increase from $144,993 under the 2020” contract.

In a statement, the Screen-Actor's Guild wrote, “SAG-AFTRA congratulates the WGA on reaching a tentative agreement with the AMPTP after 146 days of incredible strength, resiliency, and solidarity on the picket lines. While we look forward to reviewing the WGA and AMPTP’s tentative agreement, we remain committed to achieving the necessary terms for our members.”

“Since the day the WGA strike began, SAG-AFTRA members have stood alongside the writers on the picket lines. We remain on strike in our TV/Theatrical contract and continue to urge the studio and streamer CEOs and the AMPTP to return to the table and make the fair deal that our members deserve and demand.”

#source

[realestateblogupdate]

Unlock the Hidden Gems of Greater Noida West: 12 Mind-Blowing Residential Projects You Can’t Afford to Miss!

 Summary Points:

Greater Noida West has become a leading real estate market since 2010.

Over 200 residential projects launched in 14 years showcasing rapid growth.

Only 10% of projects are considered high-quality developments.

This article highlights the top 9 residential projects and 3 bonus options.

Key factors to consider include location, construction quality, and amenities.

Ready-to-move properties offer advantages over newly launched projects.

The area continues evolving with improved infrastructure and amenities.

Discerning homebuyers can find valuable investment opportunities in this market.

 Key Highlights:

2010: Greater Noida West launched; 2020: Became India's leading area for project launches.

Projects feature advanced technologies, like MyOne Shuttling, ensuring quality construction.

ATS Happy Trails recognized as the best project in its sector.

Coco County offers compact 3BHKs, maximizing value for budget-conscious buyers.

Traffic congestion is a common drawback for several properties in prime locations.

 What We'll Cover:

 Overview of Greater Noida West

 Evolution of the real estate market

 Top residential projects listed

 Key factors for homebuyers

 Ready-to-move vs. newly launched

Read More - https://realestateblog.co.in/best-residential-projects-in-greater-noida-west/

[acquisory]

Variable Capital Companies An Investment boost for future Capital inflows in India

Overview

Variable Capital Companies are a type of corporate structure designed to provide more flexibility in capital management. It allows for more flexibility in managing capital compared to traditional companies.

Jurisdictions such as Singapore, Mauritius, and the UAE have leveraged the VCCs, a globally recognized vehicle for investments framework to become attractive hubs for capital pooling and investment.

The introduction of the VCC structure is set to further enhance GIFT IFSC’s attractiveness.

The Concept of Variable Capital Companies (VCCs) was presented in 2020 through an expert committee report on the feasibility of VCCs in International Financial Services Centres (IFSC) in India.

The introduction of the VCC structure in IFSCs is part of India's strategy to develop its financial sector and attract international business. Updates to regulations and policies are aimed at making these structures more competitive on the global stage.

The government and financial authorities have been implementing reforms to enhance the attractiveness of IFSCs, including provisions related to VCCs, to boost the country's standing as a global financial hub.

About VCC and Indian Budget 2024 

The budget includes several key measures and provisions related to Variable Capital Companies (VCCs).

Here’s a summary of how the 2024 budget addresses VCCs:

Taxation Framework

The budget may propose a specific taxation framework for VCCs to make them more attractive to investors. This could involve changes in corporate tax rates, capital gains tax, or specific exemptions.

Regulatory Changes

The government might introduce or refine regulations related to the operation and governance of VCCs to streamline their functioning and compliance. This could include updates to the Companies Act or other relevant legislation.

Investment Incentives

There could be new incentives aimed at encouraging investment into VCCs, such as tax breaks for investors or relaxed rules for foreign investment.

Administrative Simplifications

Efforts to simplify the administrative processes for VCCs, including reporting requirements and compliance measures, may be included to make the structure more user-friendly.

In the present budget, the finance minister has proposed this variable capital company structure for financing leasing of aircrafts and ships, and pooled funds of private equity.

Advantages of VCCs

​​​​​​​Clear Regulatory Status

​​​​​​​The umbrella holding structure provides a....

Read more: https://www.acquisory.com/ArticleDetails/94/Variable-Capital-Companies-An-Investment-boost-for-future-Capital-inflows-in-India

[true-blue-sonic]

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening, Blue!!

🧃 🍄 🦋 - For the Ask Game

Good morning! <3

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I managed to pass every single one of my bachelor's classes at the first try... except one. This course was basically two ENTIRELY different subjects with no link between them* shoved together in one package, with two different exams you had to take literally at the same time. And I only studied for one exam and did nothing for the other, so I naturally failed it XD The unfortunate thing is that my knowledge of a few weeks of class alone netted me a 4.6 still (passing grade is 5.5 minimum), so if I had studied, I'd probably have passed both exams still. Oh well, hindsight and what-not, and I passed the failed exam the second try anyway ^-^ AND ACTUALLY now that I think about it, this was when the first Sonic movie was in theaters!!! Around the 14th of February 2020! Me failing that exam meant I could go back to my university's city instead of staying over at my parents' in the resit week and watch the movie at my leisure :>

*this is not an exaggeration, btw. There was literally one (1) sentence in my whole probably-40-page summary of the course that linked the two.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

I can see Silver have an interest in cooking: it's one of those quaint, connecting, human things people do, and I think he'd like that. Espio meanwhile is desperately trying to feed himself and two others on an ever-dwindling budget and with limited resources galore. So, I think the two of them would team up to cook together! Plus, I can imagine Silver just appears with cans of food and what-not that he makes Espio take and use, that he's brought with him from the future. Espio is always grateful for his help; Silver is about the only person he doesn't immediately kick from the kitchen when he starts working on dinner <3

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

I'm worried about my parents, they're working themselves to the bone... I know stress and sleeping poorly are unhealthy, especially over longer periods of time...