#data mus

[lookforpornography-mastrubation]

LOOK FOR PORNOGRAPHY FOR MASTRUBATION

LOOK FOR PORNOGRAPHY TO MASTRUBATE TO

[sentient-rift]

(Suddenly, Thanos snaps his fingers and wipes out half the universe.)

"Oh, not again..."

"Seriously?! We're doing this again?!"

"Curse you, Thanos!!"

"Not on my watch! The Infinity Stones won't work here!"

(RiFT snaps his own fingers and reverses the effect.)

"WAAAAAAH!! THANK YOU, RiFT!!! I REALLY HATE THAT MEME!!!"

"Of course. No meme is going to take my friends away from me."

[stuffyflowers]

for the main uty ost bracket, im planning on adding little bios for each track with their seed, where theyre played, and any trivia regarding the track. though im not sure what trivia i should and shouldnt add. i think im just going to add stuff that relates to the actual music (eg justice having a snored rendition by interacting w sleepo) rather than stuff relating to release dates or file oddities

[harrelltut]

The International Federation for Information Processing [IP]... Support ANU First World Compu_TAH [PTAH] Congress [PC] ONLINE @ Ægiptian QHT IBM [Qi] APPLE LLC in Downtown 2023 [VII] San Diego CA

ENQI [ME] NUDIMMUD MU:13

eye self corrected myself @quantumharrelltech in San Diego CA

[jayblanc]

Chinese Censorship of the 2023 Hugo Award Nominations

Back before the 2023 Hugo Nominations were conducted, I noted that the Chengdu Worldcon Hugo committee had inserted a worrying clause indicating that local government officials could invalidate nominations for breaching the norms and standards of China. I suspected this would result in arbitrarily applied censorship to control the ballot. I am sad and unsurprised to discover I was correct.

The 2023 Hugo Nomination vote data has been published (https://www.thehugoawards.org/2024/01/2023-nominating-and-final-ballot-statistics-published/), and includes notation where nominations were excluded from the ballot. Those with normal reasons, such as being in the wrong category or not being published in 2022 are identified with their reasons for exclusion. This time there are a number of nominations that are merely marked at "Not eligible".

Here is the list of those nominations, that would otherwise have been placed on the final 2023 Hugo Award Ballot.

Babel - R.F. Kuang - Best Novel: Very likely excluded for referencing student revolution, and the use of language and translation as coercive tools of oppression. Color the World - Congyun "Mu Ming" Hu - Best Novellette : A story about perception of, aid of, and discrimination against disability. Congyun Hu has left China and now lives in New York. Fogong Temple Padoga - Hai Ya - Best Story : Either there is something in the original Chinese that was not translated, there's a taboo subject that elides my reading, or this otherwise innocent looking near future tale of cultural building restoration was written by the wrong person. The Art of Ghost of Tsushima: Dark Horse and Sucker Punch Games - Best Related Work : The video game Ghost of Tsushima was subject to directed social exclusion for it's depiction of the Mongol invasion of Japan. Sandman, Amazon Studios: Best Dramatic Presentation (Long and Short) - A diverse and divergent cast, includes subject matter and social issues that are currently taboo in China. Paul Weimer - Fan Writer: Publicly Critical of holding a Worldcon in China. Xiran Jay Zhao - Astounding Award: Qualifying work "Iron Widow" is reimagined story of Chinese Empress Wu during a fantasy/mechanical alien invasion.

This raises a lot of questions as to if this basically taints the process, and what can be done about it.

[enby-jellyfish]

The Incident

Prologue of Managing the Mystery Shack

Grunkle Stan X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/Your

Summary: You and Stan meet under unfortunate circumstances.

Warnings: Angst, canon typical paranoia, insomnia, cursing, descriptions of a fresh wound, amnesia

Word Count: 4099

A/N: the old man virus tm has caught me again...

Getting hired as a research assistant by Ford when you were fresh out of university seemed like a dream come true at first. Moving to this strange town in Oregon called Gravity Falls, leaving behind everything you had ever known, was hard, but worth it. Gravity Falls is absolutely fascinating, filled to the brim with all sorts of mind-blowing anomalies.

Upon your arrival Ford had explained his plans of building an interdimensional portal. To do this he needed the help of you and another scientist named Fiddleford McGucket. Your job would be to support Ford and Fiddleford in the collection and analysation of data and samples.

The first few days you, Ford, and Fiddleford spend excavating the alien Crash Site Omega to gather materials and technology. During this time the three of you find all sorts of oddities, Ford continuously scribbling away at the journal he keeps with him at all times.

The more time passed, the more progress you made on the portal and the more creatures you discovered, some more violent than others, Fiddleford often taking the brunt of the first, causing him to become more and more paranoid. It got to a point where he asked Ford not to continue the project, but Ford declined, too hungry for the knowledge he was gaining.

Another thing you had been noticing is the odd behaviour off said boss. The yellow sticky notes always covering his workplace read odd messages, like a conversation. Ford also never seemed to sleep. Several sleepless nights you had seen him awake as well, always working. You couldn’t fully explain it but he doesn’t seem like himself in those moments. The morning after he would rave and rant about the things his ‘muse’ had enlightened him with, always refusing to reveal this person’s identity, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The first test run for the portal brought some clarity though. When. The portal was activated Fiddleford got partially sucked into it, speaking a language you didn’t understand when he came out before giving a warning about ‘the beast with just one eye���.

Fiddleford told you that the portal was too dangerous and urged you to destroy it, but when Ford refused his pleas once again, he quit the project and left. After this you demanded that Ford explain himself, to stop with the lies and secrets and to straight up tell you what he’s been keeping from you all this time.

He caved and confided in you about the demon called Bill and his plans with the portal to merge his so-called ‘nightmare realm’ with ours. The two of you decided that you wouldn’t let that happen, so you shut off the portal and built a machine to keep Bill out of the house and your minds.

The tension kept rising, Ford becoming increasingly paranoid. He started writing his journal entries in invisible ink, but that wasn’t enough. With Ford’s fear of Bill’s inevitable return growing stronger, he made the decision to abandon his research and hide his journals. He hid the second and third journals first, not telling you where to protect yours and the secret location’s safety. The two of you also converted his offsite laboratory into a fallout shelter, just in case, before he finally contacted his brother.

Ford was never one to share his personal life with you. He never spoke of his family, you didn’t even know he had a brother, but Ford insisted he was the only one he could trust besides you. And so, a postcard was sent whilst Ford started going borderline insane with paranoia.

It was difficult living with him those next few days. Ford had boarded up all windows, putting up ‘keep out’ signs outside, barely acknowledging you when you tried to speak to him, muttering to himself.

You hear knocking and move to open the front door, only to almost get trampled by Ford wanting to get there first. You look past him when he opens the door to see a man outside, he looks an awful lot like Ford, but a bit fuller, without the cleft chin, and with a mullet. This must be his brother. “FORD, is the crossbow really necessary?”

He didn’t respond to you but lowered the crossbow. “Stanley, did anyone follow you, anyone at all?” Ford hands you the crossbow for you to put away. “Uh, hello to you too pal. Who’s that?” Ford didn’t answer him and pulled his brother inside, shining a light in his eyes. “Wh- HEY, what is this!?” You gently pull Ford back, giving him a look. Ford turned his gaze from you, back to his brother and let him go. “Sorry, I just had to make sure you weren’t- uh, it’s nothing. Come in, come in.” Ford leaves, gesturing for you both to follow him.

Stanley enters, taking in the dishevelled shack. You close the door and introduce yourself as Ford’s assistant. “Sorry about him, I’m sure this wasn’t the reunion you were expecting.” Stanley looks at you. “Call me Stan, and no, it isn’t.” The two of you follow Ford further into the house. “Look, are you gonna explain what’s going on here? You’re acting like mom on her tenth cup of coffee.” Ford grabs his notes and journal exclaiming that there isn’t much time, that he’s made a huge mistake, and he doesn’t know who else he can trust. You watch awkwardly from a distance as Stan tries to calm down his frantic brother.

“I have something to show you, something you won’t believe.” Ford claims. “Look, I’ve been around the world, okay. Whatever it is, I understand.” Stan says confidently, making you feel the need to butt in. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that…”

You and Ford lead him to the lab underneath the house. You open the door for the brothers with a monotone ‘tadaaa~’ and let them enter before you, revealing the portal. “Whelp, you were right. There is nothing about this I understand!” Ford immediately starts explaining how it works, why he created it, and the terrible destruction it could cause.

“That’s why I shut it down and hid the journals that explain how to operate it. There is only one journal left, and you are the only person I can trust to take it.” Ford hands his brother the journal. “I have something to ask of you, remember our plans to sail around the world in a boat?” Stan seems to start glowing at the mention of his childhood dream, a smile decorating his face. You feel bad for what is about to happen.

“Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can! To the edge of the earth! Bury it where no one can find it.” Your heart breaks for the poor man as you watch Stan’s happy expression fall. He looks at you for a moment as if to make sure he heard his brother right. You can do nothing but grimace at him, shrugging your shoulders apologetically.

Stan’s expression then changes from hurt and shock to anger. “That’s it?! You finally wanna see me after ten years, and it’s to tell me to get as far away from you as possible?” Ford tries to tell Stan he doesn’t know what he’s up against, what he’s been through, but Stan won’t have it, rebutting that Ford is being selfish by hoarding his college money and only caring about himself.

Not liking where this is going you decide to speak up but are interrupted by Ford. “I’m selfish? I’m selfish? Stanley, how can you say that after costing me my dream school? I’m giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life, and you won’t even listen!” You attempt speaking up again. “Guys, let’s not-” But are interrupted again.

“Well, listen to this. You want me to get rid of this book? Fine, I’ll get rid of it right now.”  Stan takes out a lighter, going to light the journal on fire but Ford stops him. “You said you wanted me to have it, so I’ll do what I want with it.” Stan holds the journal to the small flame again and in a panic, Ford tackles him in an attempt to stop him from destroying the research he’s been working on for years.

“Ford! This isn’t-” You feel helpless as you watch them wrestle for the journal, physically intervening could only make things worse. “You are both acting like children! Can’t you talk this through like adults?!” They fall through the door of the control room, Ford pushing Stan onto the console in the process.

Suddenly the lab came to life, lights blaring. They must’ve accidentally activated the machine. Shit. “Guys! Stop it! The portal!” You rush to get to the control room but are pushed aside when Ford kicks his brother. You fall to the ground as you hear Stan scream in pain.

“Stanley! Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you-” Ford’s apologies are interrupted by Stan punching him square in the face. He stumbles back onto a lever, fully activating the portal.

“Some brother you turned out to be. You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family. Well, then you can have ‘em!” Stan shoves the journal back into Ford’s hands with enough force to cause Ford to lose his balance. He stumbles over the caution line on the floor and starts floating towards the portal.

You run to lever, attempting to stop the process. “Whoa, whoa, hey. What’s going on? Hey, hey, Stanford!” Stan is shocked out of his rage, rushing to grab his brother but you manage to stop him before he can get sucked in too. Ford calls your name “, Stanley, help me!”

“Oh, no! what do I do?” Stan panics while you try to get to the control room, but you are too late. “, Stanley, do something!” Ford throws the journal at his brother, calling his name one last time before getting fully sucked through the portal.

With that the portal produces a blast that pushes you against the door frame, knocking you out.

You wake up to a gruff voice and rough but gentle hands touching the right side of your face. Weirded out and uncomfortable you try and move away from the person touching you, your body feeling sluggish, not fully obeying your commands. “No, no. Don’t move. Just let me patch you up.” You recognise the voice but can’t fully place it.

You force yourself to open your eyes, immediately regretting it when a piercing pain cuts through the side of your face, blooming out through your collarbone and into your chest. You groan, squeezing your eyes shut and writhing in pain as two hands force your shoulders down onto what you are laying on. “No, stop it. I know it hurts, just try to stay still for a few more seconds.” The hands return to your face, seemingly bandaging the source of your pain. You take deep breaths through your nose in an attempt to calm down until the hands move away and the pain slightly subsides.

“There, all done. You just had to wake up when I change your bandages, didn’t you?” You open your eyes again, taking in your surroundings. It takes a moment of sluggishly looking around before you recognise where you are, Ford’s room. “Ugh, what happened?” You clutch the uninjured side of your head in an attempt to sooth the throbbing. “That bastard’s stupid machine blasted you against a doorframe. Don’t you remember?”

Machine? Blast? What? “I don- agh!” You make an effort to sit up, but everything hurts. Your face. Your brain. Trying to recall anything right now makes you want to curl up in a corner and die but you yearn for answers. “Hey, take it easy. You hit your head pretty hard there, gave you a nasty gash. You lost a lot of blood, and I am about the furthest thing from a doctor you can get, but I managed to stop the bleeding and stitch you up.” One of his warm hands hesitantly comes up to your back to steady you. “Do you have anything for the pain?” You breathe.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t think it’s gonna cut it but there should be some aspirin or something in here.” He rummages through a messy looking first aid kit, taking out the strip of pills. “Here. I’ll get you some water. Don’t move. Or erm, y’know what I mean.” You listen to him continuing to mutter to himself as he leaves. You press your temple against the colourful window, the cold glass feels soothing. When you look outside you notice it’s snowing.

You look up when Stan re-enters the room, handing you a big glass of water. You take the meds, chugging the whole glass after, only now realising how thirsty you are. “I needed that, thank you.” Stan nods, rubbing his neck with one hand, the other on his hip. You look around the room, catching your breath, waiting for the meds to kick in. The room is dark, a pillow and a red jacket are strewn over the carpet, other than that it’s still the same messy room.

‘Yeah, uh, you hungry?” “Starving.”

As the two of you finish your respective can of miscellaneous food, you start feeling slightly better. “So, how long was I out for?” Stan shrugs as he takes your and his can and puts them on the small table next to him. “About 2 days, I think.” Fuck. “And Ford?” Stan shakes his head, not meeting your gaze. “He’s gone, and that stupid machine broke when he went through.”

Stan stands up, picking up the journal from under the jacket on the floor “I’ve been trying to fix it so I can get him back.” He sits next to you, flipping through the thick book. “I’ve been using this but there are mostly a concerning amount of notes on mushrooms in here, not the portal.” He taps the page that shows then incomplete blueprint before flipping to the end. “I need the other journals, Stanford said he hid them. You wouldn’t happen to know where, would you?”

He looks at you with a hopeful expression. “No, I’m sorry. It’s all fuzzy.” While the pain is now bearable, the gaps in your memory haven’t disappeared yet. “Damn, you really hit your head hard huh, fuck. I’m not sure if I can fix it without help."

“I can try, I’m part of the reason he’s gone. If I had been faster he’d still be here.” He laughs humourlessly. “Hey, at least you did something. I just stood there like an idiot.” He looks so sad and tired, tears welling up in his eyes. You grab his hand in an attempt to comfort him. “Hey, it was an accident. It’s no use beating yourself up over it.” He sniffles, looking at your intertwined hands instead of meeting your gaze. “It’s getting late, how about we try and get some sleep and tomorrow we’ll go over everything together.” He clears his throat, letting go of your hand and wiping away the tears he refused to let fall. “Yeah, okay. Um, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the spare room upstairs, just yell if you need something.” You bid him goodnight and he leaves, taking the journal, a pillow, and his jacket with him.

That night you have a hard time getting to sleep, the guilt over what happened plaguing your mind, ruining the sleep you do manage to find with nightmares. Ford might be dead right now, or worse. You know that machine is dangerous, but you have to clear your conscious and get your friend back.

The next morning you wake up to the sunlight caressing your face through the window. Groaning you stand up, head throbbing, you stumble over to the bathroom to take some more medicine. Wiping your mouth, you dare look in the mirror above the sink. Bandages are covering most of the right side of your face, there is no blood leaking through, which is good. The flesh underneath feels swollen and tender though, you can see bruising peek out from underneath the bandages. The rest of your skin looks about as dull and lifeless as you feel. You debate taking off the bandages to fully inspect the damage.

Your curiosity getting the better of you, you gently wet and peel back the bandage, cringing at the sight. The gash is long and deep, reaching from your temple, just above your eyebrow, to your chin, crossing your lips and the side of your eye. Thankfully, aside from the swelling the wound didn’t seem to have damaged your vision. The stitching is done crudely, yet effectively, and the wound looks clean.

“It’ll probably leave a scar.” You see Stan behind you in the mirror holding two mugs of coffee. “Yeah, probably…” You don’t necessarily care about your appearance, but oddly enough, having a permanent reminder of the day your boss got sent to an alternate dimension isn’t exactly a pleasant idea.

You turn around to face Stan. “Yikes! You look even worse up close.” He grimaces playfully as he holds a mug out to you. “Ha, ha.” You deadpan as you take the mug, rolling your eyes and instantly regretting it when the pain returns. You lean against the sink as you sip, taking some weight off your shaky legs.

After the two of you finish your coffee Stan gets you a change of clothes and helps you to the lab where he shows you his progress. The two of you go over the machine and the journal together, him sharing his theories and questions and you elaborating and explaining where you can. This, however, proves difficult due to there still being considerable gaps in your memory.

Days pass and you develop a routine: wake up, drink coffee with Stan, work in the lab or search the house for more information until you physically can’t, scarf down some food, and end the day by getting some sleep, or, rest more like. The guilt and stress make it hard to sleep. Working with Stan is nice though, despite the circumstances. His stubborn and devoted spirit keeps you going. He’s funny too.

Weeks pass and with food running out the two of you decide to venture into town. Arriving at the small store Stan takes a loaf of bread while you grab some instant coffee. The nice-looking elderly lady behind the counter rings you up. “Just this then, there strangers? That’ll be $ 4,99.” You reach to take out your wallet before realising you spent your last penny during your research and Ford can’t exactly pay you now. You look at Stan, he checks his pockets and sighs when he only finds some junk.

You’re about to apologise and put the stuff back when a voice interrupts you. “Hey, those’re no strangers! They must be the mysterious science duo that live in the woods. My, what happened to your face!” You cringe and hide in the hood of your jacket. This has got to be the last thing you want to have to deal with right now. Stan evidently feels the same as he pulls the strings on his hood and tries to tell the lady she’s got the wrong people.

Alerted by the lady’s exclamation the other customers gather around you, saying how they heard strange stories about that old shack, something about mysterious lights and spooky experiments. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans the two of you get up to in there!” The elderly man behind the counter says. “Oh, me too! Do ya ever give tours?” The first lady adds.

“No, really, I-” Stan stops himself, realising he can make money off this. He shares a look with you, as if to ask for permission. The two of you are gonna need money to keep this up so you hesitantly give him a nod. “Yes! I do give tours! 10- nah, nah, 15 bucks a person!”

Stan immediately visibly brightens up as people excitedly start cheering and waving their money at you. You take some of the money they are throwing at you and slip away to get some more groceries. As the old couple bags up your groceries the first lady taps you on your shoulder and introduces herself as Susan before asking what your name is. You tell her and she smiles kindly at you before turning to Stan.

“Sir! What did you say your name was, you man of mystery?” Stan stops counting the money before introducing himself. “Oh, uh, Stan… ford. Stanford Pines.” You then gather everyone up and Stan leads them to the shack.

The tour started out as a slight disaster with Susan getting injured from one of Ford’s machines and people demanding their money back, but Stan’s charisma and showmanship saved the day. There is truly some great potential here.

That night the two of you share a full meal together, the first in a long time, and the first of many to come. The two of you enjoy your meal in comfortable silence for a bit, savouring the meal, before Stan speaks up. “So, I was thinking. We’re not fixing that portal anytime soon and we need money, for food and to pay the mortgage. Now, this town thinks I’m Ford, so I’ll continue living under his identity so we can keep the house.” He moves his hands excitedly as he speaks. “We’ll fix up the shack, make some new attractions, cuz those knick-knacks lying around here ain’t gonna cut it, maybe we can even have a gift shop!” He takes another bite and continues explaining his plan with his mouth full. “By day I could keep giving the tours and you could do the logistics side, like make sure everything runs all smooth-like y’know, and by night we could keep working on the machine.”

You think about it for a second, taking a sip of your drink. “So, we’re going full on tourist trap, okay, do you have a name in mind?” He smirks, leaning back in his chair, one arm above his head, the other on his stomach. “I’m thinking ‘The Murder Hut’! Playing into the mystery part of it, people love that kind of stuff.” He uses his hands to frame the name. “Not a bad plan, but if you’re gonna be Stanford, who’s gonna be Stanley? You can’t be in two places at once.”

Stan clears his throat, sitting up straight. “Um, I was thinking of faking my death? I know some people who won’t ask questions, don’t ask. How about a car crash?” You sigh. This is all becoming very real right now. “Are you sure about all this? It won’t be easy to come back from this.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? I need to get my brother back; to get him back I need to keep the house, to keep the house I need to become Stanford.” He smiles sadly at you. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to get further involved in all this, and you can leave if you want to, no hard feelings, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder without you.”

Stan gives you a pleading look.  “So, what do you say? Partners?” He holds out a hand for you to shake. You take a deep breath, thinking it all through. Agreeing will get you in a whole lot of trouble, but refusing would weigh more heavily on your mind than you think you can take.

So, you shake his hand. “Partners. But I’m telling you, the ‘Murder Hut’ isn’t going to stick.” Stan lets out a loud laugh, squeezing your hand before letting it go. “What? of course it will! I’m somewhat of an expert at naming things, y’know.” He proceeds to tell you all about his failed salesman career with the same eccentric manner of storytelling he used during the tour.

The two of you talked and shared stories the whole evening through. Until you called it a night and the two of you cleaned up and head upstairs for bed. You stop before entering your respective rooms. “Tomorrow we’ll start planning the renovations for the house.” You tell him. He nods. “Sounds good, partner.” You smile at that as he turns around. “Stan?” He turns.

“We’ll get him back, I promise.”

Next part

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[catpriciousmarjara]

Personal pet peeve: When a particular character has a lot of paperwork and such associated with their job and it has been established in universe that the work is extremely hard, complicated, and tedious but then in fanfic another character in another job position takes up this character's paperwork and does it perfectly. That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works.

Paperwork is not some nebulous pile of papers so easy that anyone can just waltz in and fill it up just like that. Paperwork, especially for large organisations, requires specific training and knowledge. A particular situation might have at least ten forms associated with it depending on how it happened, when it happened, who were involved, who were affected, who filed the initial report etc. It could be form A.1, it could be form B8, it could be G3 or D-3.2e, and then it has to be filed away in a specific way under a specific designation. At times it could be completely nonsensical but still necessary and part of proper procedure....all of that requires training and experience. Someone from a totally unconnected role can't just take over this position and do an excellent job at it, unless it has been previously established that they too had prior training and guidance in this.

Example: Cale(KRS) and Basen Henituse in Trash of the Count's Family. Kim Rok Soo before trasmigration into Cale Henituse was a team leader who has experience with important official documentation and paperwork for the Company. Basen Henituse is established to have been send to territory heirship classes and doing well in them. These two people being able to take on the other's paperwork load is not at all farfetched. (Same with Cale and Alberu though the latter would still have to sign and seal his insignia separately in the end.)

So no someone who's untrained can't just take someone else's paperwork and just breeze through them unless they are like supernaturally intelligent to the point of figuratively downloading all the necessary data and information directly into their brain or something.

Let's not even talk about how the character might have a particular way and organisation of doing things and someone else taking over their workload without permission might just mess that order up and their well intended actions might end up doing more harm than good.

Look at MXTX's Shang Qinghua or Ling Wen. As I'm reading SVSSS right now let's take it as an example.

Someone who can conduct and lead an audit: Shang Qinghua, specifically trained as an auditor. Yue Qingyuan- can possibly fill in for a specific kind of audit.

Someone who cannot conduct an audit: Literally every other Peak Lord on Cang Qiong. Not trained for it. Should not be in charge of it.

Someone who can file in medical paperwork: Mu Qingfang, head of medical operations in the sect.

Someone who can't do that: his Peak Lord colleagues. At most they'll be able to file in incident reports and other such forms that guardians of patients will have to fill in at a hospital.

People involved with merchants and associated business transactions: Shang Qinghua(logistics expert-procurement logistics), and for large contracts, Yue Qingyuan(Sect Leader). Other Peak Lords depending on the goods. For example the Zui Xian Peak Lord when they are negotiating prices for the raw materials or equipment for alcohol brewing or Wei Qingwei when they are sourcing metal.

Someone who can handle annual budgeting: Shang Qinghua. Person who allocates the funds according to the final budget- Yue Qingyuan.

Persons who can't do that: His colleagues who are definitely not trained in finances and accounting.

And so on and so on.

Shang Qinghua was invited back to the sect after literal treason because nobody else could do his job. That should tell you that people without specific training can't just take over the paperwork of another person's job unless their own jobs are connected enough to be sufficiently similar that they can handle it.

So no someone like Shen Qingqiu who's a scholar and tactician primarily, can't take the entirety of Shang Qinghua's or Mu Qingfang's or Yue Qingyuan's paperwork and fill it in for them, no matter how intelligent he is. Though I'm sure Yue Qingyuan would let him sect be damned lmao.

You see things like this in many other fandoms as well. Innocuous forms that anyone can fill in are okay but complicated paperwork for auditing, budgeting, logistics, diplomacy, business transactions, internal affairs, etc? No way. That all takes time to familiarize with before even properly filing them let alone actually doing them.

This is of course a personal pet peeve as I mentioned from the beginning. People are free to write what they want, read what they want, like what they want. This is no way an accusation towards particular individuals. It's just that for me it breaks immersion pretty quickly.

[styrmwb]

References to Previous Final Fantasies in Dawntrail

Or, how 9 + 11 + 6 = 14, somehow. (SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY)

I've played every mainline FF, plus a few others, so one of my favorite things about playing XIV is seeing what they do with previous FFs, and how they incorporate it into the world/story. Dawntrail very very much did this, to the point that I could literally predict plot points before they happened. (THIS IS NOT A COMPLAINT I LOVED THIS)

So I figured I would put down my fanboying in text form, for people to read the insanity of a madman who has played too many JRPGs from a single series.

Note: I have not completed every single side quest, but I have done the entire MSQ, every dungeon, and 3/5 of the role quests. This isn't a complete collection, just what I noticed :)

V

Krile's "real name" is Maya. The original Krile in FFV was Krile Meyer Baldesion. (XIV might also have the middle name but I don't remember! I'm gonna put it here regardless!)

VI

Valigarmanda is the first Esper you encounter in VI, right at the start of the game. Its summon attack is Tri-Disaster. I really liked how they kept it frozen in ice, just like the original, and because Tri-Disaster is a SMN ability, they changed it to Tulidisaster to fit the Tural location.

Pictomancer was first in VI as well, being Relm's job. She even got to be in XIV as well, being credited as the Archon who created the art (HA). Shoutouts to the Relm reborn joke it needed to happen

IX

One of the two most important games in this expansion. There is A Lot here.

The preorder bonus/deluxe edition had a Wind-Up Zidane and Garnet, the two main protagonists of FFIX.

Alexandria is lifted directly from IX. The name, the style of the buildings, and even the castle with the crystal popping out of the top, shown in the dungeon and in Yesterland in Living Memory.

(This is the Dissidia NT version, but I wanted a picture that showed the castle and the roof architecture)

Solution Nine is named after one of Zidane's Dyne abilities. While not direct, Living Memory, the final zone, is very reminiscent of Memoria, the final dungeon of IX. I wonder if you can get a special sword by completing the entire MSQ in under 2 hours?

Living Memory also features quite a few locations from IX. The Canal Town looks very similar to Treno, and features a location called the Daguerreo Medical Collection, named after the city as well. Underneath Proto Alexandria in Yesterland, where the data terminal lies, looks very similar to the part of Alexandria Castle where Steiner can grind to level 99 (I don't know how else to describe it if you know you know). In the Windspath Gardens lies the Cleyra Museum of Nature, also named after the IX city.

Some quest text in Living Memory tells you about other locations in the Unlost World. Lindblum, the city that holds hunts and is very technologically advanced; Conde Petie, where the Dwarves are from (mentioned by a Milalla who said he was from there), and the Iifa Tree. There might even be more here, that I either missed or haven't done yet.

Another quest has you go on a treasure hunt for a password. This password? "I Want to Be Your Canary", the play from FFIX.

Solution Nine has a couple buildings with monsters from IX as signs. One building features a Mu (Which is also mentioned in Living Memory), and another building features Yans, both friendly and not friendly.

Another monster that I noticed a reference to was the Gimme Cat, which is featured on the popcorn in Living Memory. It's also mentioned as an energy drink, but called a "Gimme Bat" instead? I guess it does have bat wings.

While XIV doesn't have any direct plot important characters from IX, the ones we do have are very reminiscent of its cast, and clearly are done like that on purpose.

Otis is Steiner (with maybe a little tiny bit of Beatrix depending on how you look at it). Captain of the Knights of Alexandria, he speaks in an older fashion, similar to Steiner, and is very loyal to his princess.

Sphene is an interesting mix. The most obvious one is Garnet, both being Queens of Alexandria, being named after stones, and loving their people. The other one, which might be argued isn't intended, is Garland.

(No, not those guys. The other one.)

Garland in IX is an artificial being whose purpose is to continue his world's life. To do this, he would try to fuse Terra (his planet), with Gaia (the main planet), and control Gaian souls for Terra instead. What did Sphene do? Try to fuse her reflection with the Source, to use their souls for her own people. I personally think this is a very clear similarity.

In general, because of this similarity, the latter half of Dawntrail shares very similar themes with IX's plots, dealing with death and souls. I also think it's pretty funny that both start out pretty happy and cartoony, and end fairly depressing and existential.

Another plot point used in the MSQ is the play sequence. While IX's is based off love, and XIV's is the history of Alexandria, both feature a sword fight scene. (99 out of 100 nobles approve).

Finally, several songs from IX are used in Dawntrail. In the above mentioned play, Swords of Fury plays, just like the original. And a few scenes later, Vamo'alla Flamenco (previously used for the DNC quests) plays, though it should have been during the sword fight!! Prima Vista Orchestra and Fleeting Life are used in several scenes, usually involving Sphene. Something to Protect also appears, but in a scene I can't recall. Finally, the Court Jesters' theme gets a remix as the main song in the Strayborough Deadwalk.

X

There is a singular joke in Heritage Found made about dodging lightning bolts right before the flash so they don't hit you. The person who wrote this line wanted to induce PTSD in as many people as they could with only a single line of dialogue.

XI

The other most important game in the expansion. In a way, Dawntrail FEELS like it could have been an XI expansion in another lifetime. I might be looking too much into it, but I feel as though this was foreshadowed back in the first patch of Endwalker, as Dawntrail takes A LOT from the Treasures of Aht Urhgan expansion.

In Endwalker, the Alzadaal's Legacy dungeon was based off of the Alzadaal Underwater Ruins in Aht Urhgan. The dungeon used many models from XI, such as the Rampart, the Xzomit (hell yes!), and the Acrolith. The dungeon had a visual similarity, as well as the areas in the dungeon being named after zones in Aht Urhgan (Bhaflau Thickets, Arrapago Reef, and Mount Zhayolm). I know this is Endwalker and not Dawntrail but trust me it's important for the foreshadowing.

Gulool Ja Ja was a boss in the Besieged mode of ToAU, leading the Mamool Ja Savages to assault Al Zahbi. Both incarnations of this character are VERY different from each other.

Similarly, Gurfurlur was also a boss in Besieged, leading the Troll Mercenaries. It's very funny to me that both of these warmongers became such nice people in Tural.

The Yok Huy as a whole are actually Trolls from XI. The different name I assume coming from the fact that Trolls are already an enemy in XIV, in Labyrinthos.

While this isn't direct, and is probably unintentional, the fact that the final boss in Vanguard was a naga/lamia like entity only makes me wonder if it was somehow a callback to Medusa and the Undead Swarm, the last remaining Besieged invaders.

Zoraal Ja is a Notorious Monster in the areas around Aht Urhgan.

To continue on with Mamool Ja facts, Mamook is an area in ToAU. They don't look very similar, but they do both share the title of Autarch as their ruler. Mamool Ja in general come from XI, so it's no surprise that in the expansion that well, expands on them, it uses XI for inspiration.

This next one might be a little insane. The general plot of Treasures of Aht Urhgan, is that after killing Promathia, a god that wishes to end all life, the Adventurer goes to a completely different area to have a relatively calmer adventure. Here, they meet a female member of royalty named Aphmau. Her brother, Razfahd, unable to rule over the country, has a conquering nature, and uses an Automaton body to control Alexander for his goals. This... can't be a coincidence, right?? We kill the Endsinger, who wanted to end all life, go to a completely different area to have a relatively calmer adventure with our female member of royalty, Wuk Lamat, and we fight against Zoraal Ja, her war hungry brother that is unable to rule, so he uses the power of Alexandria (a mech suit) for his goals. You... you see what I'm cooking here right??? RIGHT!?!?!

To piggyback off of this, Wuk Lamat very much fits the role of the XI heroine. A girl who is very clearly the main character of the story, and hangs around you more than anyone else.

Edit: one last thing that I forgot to put down before posting, one of the hunts uses the Magic Pot model from XI. We love Magic Pot.

I THINK that should be everything I found? I know for a fact we're going to get more since the Alliance Raids are based of off XI (I'm so excited)

XIII

A couple enemy models were used from XIII.

The Silver Lobos in Urqopacha use the XIII model. I'm fairly sure they've never been used in XIV yet, but I could be wrong.

Similarly, the Strayborough Deadwalk uses the Gremlin/Ahriman enemies. I do not think they've been used before this, feel free to yell at me if I'm wrong :)

Type-0

While not like, direct, the concept of erasing the memories of anyone who has died (especially seen as a blessing) was a major plot point of Type-0's world.

I think that's everything? My memory isn't the greatest, so I'm sure there's something I noticed that I missed, and again; I haven't done everything, so there might be even more out there that I've yet to find!

Please, feel free to comment anything else that you may have noticed, and hopefully you enjoyed reading :)

[carpedzem]

it has been 3 hours firefox doesnt want to start

mu pc is testing my patience today

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A bowl of avocado spread sculpted into a pattern, topped with olive oil and garnished with symmetrical lines of nigella seeds and piles of pomegranate seeds; a pile of pita bread is in the background. End ID]

متبل الأفوكادو / Mutabbal al-'afukadu (Palestinian avocado dip)

Avocados are not native to Palestine. Israeli settlers planted them in Gaza in the 1980s, before being evicted when Israel evacuated all its settlements in Gaza in 2005. The avocados, however, remained, and Gazans continued to cultivate them for their fall and winter harvest. Avocados have been folded into the repertoire of a "new" Palestinian cuisine, as Gazans and other Palestinians have found ways to interpret them.

Palestinians may add local ingredients to dishes traditionally featuring avocado (such as Palestinian guacamole, "جواكامولي فلسطيني" or "غواكامولي فلسطيني"), or use avocado in Palestinian dishes that typically use other vegetables (pickling them, for example, or adding them to salads alongside tomato and cucumber).

Another dish in this latter category is حمص الافوكادو (hummus al-'afukadu)—avocado hummus—in which avocado is smoothly blended with lemon juice, white tahina (طحينة البيضاء, tahina al-bayda'), salt, and olive oil. Yet another is متبّل الأفوكادو (mutabbal al-'afukadu). Mutabbal is a spiced version of بابا غنوج (baba ghannouj)‎: "مُتَبَّل" means "spiced" or "seasoned," from "مُ" "mu-," a participlizing prefix, + "تَبَّلَ" "tabbala‎," "to have spices added to." Here, fresh avocado replaces the roasted eggplant usually used to make this smooth dip; it is mixed with green chili pepper, lemon juice, garlic, white tahina, sumac, and labna (لبنة) or yoghurt. Either of these dishes may be topped with sesame or nigella seeds, pomegranate seeds, fresh dill, or chopped nuts, and eaten with sliced and toasted flatbread.

Avocados' history in Palestine precedes their introduction to Gaza. They were originally planted in 1908 by a French order of monks, but these trees have not survived. It was after the Balfour Declaration of 1917 (in which Britain, having been promised colonial control of Palestine with the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire after World War 1, pledged to establish "a national home for the Jewish people" in Palestine) that avocado agriculture began to take root.

In the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, encouraged by Britain, Jewish Europeans began to immigrate to Palestine in greater numbers and establish agricultural settlements (leaving an estimated 29.4% of peasant farming families without land by 1929). Seeds and seedlings from several varieties of avocado were introduced from California by private companies, research stations, and governmental bodies (including Mikveh Israel, a school which provided settlers with agricultural training). In these years, prices were too high for Palestinian buyers, and quantities were too low for export.

It wasn't until after the beginning of the Nakba (the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from "Jewish" areas following the UN partition of Palestine in 1947) that avocado plantings became significant. With Palestinians having been violently expelled from most of the area's arable land, settlers were free to plant avocados en masse for export, aided (until 1960) by long-term, low-interest loans from the Israeli government. The 400 acres planted within Israel's claimed borders in 1955 ballooned to 2,000 acres in 1965, then 9,000 by 1975, and over 17,000 by 1997. By 1986, Israel was producing enough avocados to want to renegotiate trade agreements with Europe in light of the increase.

Israeli companies also attained commercial success selling avocados planted on settlements within the West Bank. As of 2014, an estimated 4.5% of Israeli avocado exports were grown in the occupied Jordan Valley alone (though data about crops grown in illegal settlements is of course difficult to obtain). These crops were often tended by Palestinian workers, including children, in inhumane conditions and at starvation wages. Despite a European Union order to specify the origin of such produce as "territories occupied by Israel since 1967," it is often simply marked "Israel." Several grocery stores across Europe, including Carrefour, Lidl, Dunnes Stores, and Aldi, even falsified provenance information on avocados and other fruits in order to circumvent consumer boycotts of goods produced in Israel altogether—claiming, for example, that they were from Morocco or Cyprus.

Meanwhile, while expanding its own production of avocados, Israel was directing, limiting, and destabilizing Palestinian agriculture in an attempt to eliminate competition. In 1982, Israel prohibited the planting of fruit trees without first obtaining permission from military authorities; in practice, this resulted in Palestinians (in Gaza and the West Bank) being entirely barred from planting new mango and avocado trees, even to replace old, unproductive ones.

Conditions worsened in the years following the second intifada. Between September of 2000 and September of 2003, Israeli military forces destroyed wells, pumps, and an estimated 85% of the agricultural land in al-Sayafa, northern Gaza, where farmers had been using irrigation systems and greenhouses to grow fruits including citrus, apricots, and avocados. They barred almost all travel into and out of al-Sayafa: blocking off all roads that lead to the area, building barricades topped with barbed wire, preventing entry within 150 meters of the barricade under threat of gunfire, and opening crossings only at limited times of day and only for specific people, if at all.

A July 2001 prohibition on Palestinian vehicles within al-Sayafa further slashed agricultural production, forcing farmers to rely on donkeys and hand carts to tend their fields and to transport produce across the crossing. If the crossing happened to be closed, or the carts could not transport all the produce in time, fruits and vegetables would sit waiting in the sun until they rotted and could not be sold. The 2007 blockade worsened Gaza's economy still further, strictly limiting imports and prohibiting exports entirely (though later on, there would be exceptions made for small quantities of specific crops).

In the following years, Israel allowed imports of food items into Gaza not exceeding the bare minimum for basic sustenance, based on an estimation of the caloric needs of its inhabitants. Permitted (apples, bananas, persimmons, flour) and banned items for import (avocados, dates, grapes) were ostensibly based on "necessary" versus "luxury" foods, but were in fact directed according to where Israeli farmers could expect the most profit.

Though most of the imports admitted into Gaza continued to come from Israel, Gazan farmers kept pursuing self-sufficiency. In 2011, farmers working on a Hamas-government-led project in the former settlements produced avocados, mangoes, and most of the grapes, onions, and melons that Gazans ate; by 2015, though still forbidden from exporting excess, they were self-sufficient in the production of crops including onions, watermelon, cantaloupe, grapes, almonds, olives, and apples.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System’s (Israel’s primary weapons manufacturer) landlord, donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund, and donating to the Bay Area Anti-Repression Committee bail fund.

Ingredients:

2 medium avocados (300g total)

1/4 cup white tahina

2 Tbsp labna (لبنة), or yoghurt (laban, لبن رايب)

1 green chili pepper

2 cloves garlic

2 Tbsp good olive oil

Juice of 1/2 lemon (1 1/2 Tbsp)

1 tsp table salt, or to taste

Pomegranate seeds, slivered almonds, pine nuts, chopped dill, nigella seeds, sesame seeds, sumac, and/or olive oil, to serve

Khubiz al-kmaj (pita bread), to serve

Instructions:

1. In a mortar and pestle, crush garlic, pepper, and a bit of salt into a fine paste.

2. Add avocados and mash to desired texture. Stir in tahina, labna, olive oil, lemon juice, and additional salt.

You can also combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor.

3. Top with a generous drizzle of olive oil. Add toppings, as desired.

4. Cut pita into small rectangles or triangles and separate one half from the other (along where the pocket is). Toast in the oven, or in a large, dry skillet, stirring occasionally, until golden brown. Serve dip alongside toasted pita chips.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Canadian residents whose personal data was compromised in a 2019 LifeLabs data breach can now apply for up to $150 in compensation from a multi-million dollar class action settlement approved in October.  The private medical diagnostics company and its subsidiaries were the target of a cyberattack on Dec. 17, 2019, that compromised patient data for around 15 million customers, mostly in British Columbia and Ontario. Hackers accessed personal information, including health numbers and test results, according to the claim. LifeLabs has denied claims of negligence brought in the class action lawsuit. The company will now pay at least $4.9 million in the negotiated settlement — and up to $9.8 million — depending on the number of claims made.

Continue Reading

Tagging @politicsofcanada

[sentient-rift]

🌋 ((Your Solo at my Laplace lol

"What can I say about that Laplace that I haven't already said about mine? There are a lot of words that come to mind when I think of Laplace, such as 'Annoying,' 'Troublemaker,' and occasionally 'Jerk.'

"...With that said, if your Laplace is anything like mine, then the Best word that describes him is... 'Reliable.' I can always count on him..."

*Laplace gets all fuzzy inside.*

[transhuman-priestess]

Sigma-38 is an assimilator unit out on her first raid. Her target: a young man deemed perfect for assimilation as an incubator.

The New Flesh is a gory, violent smut story for consumption only by adults over the age of 18 who are cool with dubcon, noncon, drugging, gore, light cannibalism, surgery, forcefem (kinda/sorta), brainwashing, weird gender shit, and probably a bunch of other stuff i forgot to mention

April 2

0313 Earth UTC

200 Million Kilometers beyond Jupiter

Sigma-38 fixed her vacuum helmet to her chassis. They were 2 minutes out from their target, a John Henry-class mining vessel, the Blair Mountain. The ship carried 2,000 metric tons of platinum-group metals, 20,000 tons of common ores, and 5,000 tons of water ice. None of that would be taken. When the Blair Mountain would be found, several months hence, her cargo would be entirely accounted for. What happened to her crew would be a mystery, the sort of thing that old astronauts talk about in hushed whispers at Jovian saloons.

The raiding party consisted of two K-class interdictor vessels, each containing 10 Gamma-type assault drones, 4 Mu-type engineers, and 1 Sigma-type assimilator. This was 38’s first raiding party, the drone was eager for the opportunity. Raids were one of the few times when command and control of the hive was allowed to devolve to individuals. Like water rushing in to a cave as the tide rises, the party would disperse into the target ship before washing its contents back out to the ocean of stars.

Nobody had to speak the 30-second warning. Logistic commanders were unnecessary for the hive. Antithetical to it, really. They would have a 15-minute window to subdue and extract the crew and whatever provisions they could before the Blair Mountain came out of a dead zone in the deep space network.

10 seconds. 38’s vessel, K-19, was aligning itself with the main crew hatch. The other interdictor, K-13, was covering the emergency hatch. 5 seconds. There was a soft thump through the floor of the cabin as K-19 achieved hard dock with the target. The airlock decompressed and the force field deactivated, allowing Mu units 76 and 45 to go to work wiring into the Blair Mountain’s airlock controls.

Zero.

The door opened, and the 15 drones of K-19 flooded into the airlock. The Mu units immediately set about bypassing the second door. 10 seconds later, the party was in. Sigma-38 pushed her way through. Screams erupted from the cramped quarters inside. Intelligence pegged the number of crew at 20. The hive had calculated a loss rate of 25% would still result in an acceptable gain, but a dead body was only good for its biomass, nothing more. Nonlethal weapons unless absolutely necessary.

38 followed the sound of screaming down the hall to her right, 4 Gammas behind her. 10 meters in, they came upon a small dormitory. She turned the handle on the door, feeling resistance as the 5 crew members behind the door pushed all their weight on it to try and keep it closed. 2 of the Gammas joined 38 and together they rammed the door down. Sigma-38 grabbed her first quarry of the raid. A young engineer’s mate, no older than 20. Tears filled his eyes as he begged, “Don’t kill me! Please! Don’t kill me, please!’

38 did not respond, only applied a shock from the stun rod embedded in her forearm. The engineer’s mate collapsed as 3 of his shipmates tried to knock her down. The assault drones pulled them off, applying their own stun rods to their prey. It was over in 20 seconds. One of the Gammas put magcuffs on the humans. 38 left the room and continued down the hall as a Mu used a gravcart to haul the humans back to the interdictor.

3 minutes had passed since the airlock was first breached. Mu-76 had patched the hive into the ship’s computer. 38 absorbed the data as she walked down the hall, zeroing in on the captain’s quarters.

The ship’s manifest listed the captain as Theresa “Terry” Holder, 37, a 10 year captain in the civil navy. A picture of the captain appeared in the corner of 38’s vision as she walked through the hall. Though she long ago gave up on being human, 38 still appreciated the form of them. The picture of Holder showed a strong-jawed woman with long brown hair and a swaggering smile, dressed in a grease-stained tank top. 38 felt her cock grow warm underneath the armor plating.

38 found the captain’s quarters, opening the door without hesitation, and was immediately met by the noise of a gunshot and a blast of kinetic energy as a .45 caliber round struck her left chest plate. She noted it, but felt no damage beyond the superficial. Four more quickly followed. Holder’s grouping was good. It would not save her.

Sigma-38 made eye contact with Captain Terry Holder as she approached. Something about her sent a thrill down 38’s spine. Holder’s gun jammed at the same time as a curious expression overtook her stubbled face. Not just fear. Confusion, maybe even a hint of recognition.

“What!?” She shrieked, as she frantically worked the pistol’s slide, trying to clear the jam, “You’re dead. You’re dead! You have to be dead! I shot you! I shot you and you’re dead!”

Sigma-38 grabbed the captain by the neck, lifting her half a meter into the air, and spoke, “Do not resist. You will become beautiful.” with a twitch of her wrist, a needle shot a sedative into the captain’s neck. This was the part 38 had been waiting for. The part where the prey knew it was beaten. that help would not come, that there was no more point in fighting. She locked eyes with the captain as the latter slipped out of consciousness. Though Holder could not see it, 38 was smiling

*****

All told, the raid, from infil to exfil, had taken 12 minutes. Only 2 of the crew of the Blair Mountain were lost. Their bodies were taken, their biomass useful for the synthesis of hormones, amino acids, and neurotransmitters. The other 18 would join the hive. They would be kept sedated until their assimilation began. It was a 4 day flight back to the hive’s nexus, and in that time 38 had planned to assimilate around half of the take.

The first, she decided, would be that engineer’s mate. One of the Gammas brought him to the assimilation chamber. 38 looked him over. Young, thin, around 19 or 20. No tattoos, sandy hair. She affixed a respirator mask to his face and, after checking that he was properly restrained, pressed a button on the stretcher to pull him out of sedation.

He stirred slowly, eyes bleary with drugs. So vulnerable, so innocent. 38 couldn’t wait to assimilate him.

“Where am I?” he said, “I...my name...my name is...Phillip Ellis...203243…”

“Your name,” Sigma said, “is of no concern to us.”

“Phillip Ellis, 2-oh-3, uhhhhh, 2-4-3”

“You have been selected to become an incubator for the hive.”

“What?” confusion crossed his face. Soon would come the fear.

“Your body will be modified and augmented to perform the function of incubator in the hive’s breeding chambers.”

“I...what?” The fear was starting to creep in. 38 had a choice now. She could administer the gas, which would clear away all that fear and doubt, or she could push him just a little further into terror. The choice was not difficult.

She waited for a few seconds and then said, “Do not be afraid,” It was too easy, really, “we will alter your body surgically and mechanically. Superfluous limbs and organs will be removed. You will be conscious during this process. You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”

Phillip Ellis’s response was simply to begin screaming. A high pitched, entirely undignified wail of dread. With a smile, Sigma-38 turned on the gas.

Ellis could only scream for so long before his lungs ran out of air. When they did, he had no choice but to inhale. His body was operating on adrenaline, he couldn’t have held his breath if he’d wanted to. He took a deep breath, already preparing to scream again, but the gas worked quickly. Before he finished inhaling it had already worked its way into his brain. A powerful aphrodisiac, it would arouse him, making the next step much easier and faster.

38 felt her cock begin to swell, and said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. I want you to lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”

Ellis resisted, somewhat half-heartedly, “No, I...I don’t want to,” he said.

38 frowned. She dialed up the gas and again, said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. Lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”

“I…” Ellis trailed off. His pupils were dilated, his mouth hanging open, a wide, crazed grin on his face.

“If you will not comply,” said 38, “I will compel you.”

Her cock was aching now. She didn’t feel like waiting for him to lift up his legs. He was so blissed out anyway that he probably couldn’t do it on his own. She grabbed his ankles and lifted them over his head. She held them there with one arm, and with the other, she took her cock and pressed it up against his asshole. He provided no resistance, “oh,” he said, “That feels good,” he was smiling. 38 smiled, too.

Slowly, she began to slide in and out of him. His thin, pale body squirmed and bucked in time with hers. He was hairless except for his head and groin, his cock engorged. She felt his ass grip her cock, and began to fuck him faster. As his moans grew louder and louder, 38 felt herself approaching orgasm. To her, this was foreplay. What came next was the main event.

The first convulsion twitched behind her cock, another, seconds later. The pressure began to build. It would be soon now. She could feel the replicators in her prostate working overtime on their payload. Another pang, the pressure now sustained. Ellis’s moaning was joined by 38’s and she felt her eyes close and her cock grow hard before it finally let go. She felt the pump of her prostate and her balls as they shot 10ccs of assimilation nanites into Ellis’s ass.

Ellis moaned, then groaned, and finally started screaming. This part was always painful, but it would only last for a minute or so. The nanites in 38’s semen were already dispersing themselves through his bloodstream, turning his veins a dark grey, his skin pale as they worked their way through his capilaries. In 10 seconds they had found their way to his brain. There, they began working to redirect the pain signals from his body into the pleasure center, and soon his screams of agony had become cries of ecstasy as he felt his tissue being remodeled on a cellular level.

38 pulled her cock out of his ass, a few grey pearls of cum dripping onto the floor of the chamber. Idly, she touched her finger to the end of her cock and brought it to her mouth, licking her own nanites, a metallic rush on her tongue.

“Nooo,” came Ellis’s pathetic voice, “please don’t stop. I need more.”

“You will get more.”

Ellis smiled. Sigma-38 reached for her first tool, a long, curved knife.

The first thing to do would be to cut through the skin and muscle on all four limbs. The last ¼ by the torso would be allowed to remain. She pressed the knife to Ellis’s left bicep, and whispered in his ear, “are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, yes please!”

She plunged the knife into his arm, feeling it slip through the skin and muscle and thunk down onto the bone below. Ellis screamed from the pleasure of it. Sigma allowed herself to remember this feeling from before the hive. It was bliss. She felt her cooling pump speed up just thinking about it. But she had to focus on the task at hand.

The wound did not bleed much, the nanites already replicating, aiding in clotting and building contact points and hookups for later. Ellis would make an excellent Iota-type incubator.

Soon, 38 had carved away a 3-centimeter wide section of flesh around each cut point on Ellis’s femurs and humeri. She put the knife back in its slot on the wall and reached for a circular bonesaw. She held it to his left humerus, but did not turn it on yet. Instead, she reached down and gently stroked the exposed bone, feeling Ellis shudder under her touch, hearing him moan in pleasure. She looked at his cock and saw a drip of precum fall from it on to his taught, hairless stomach. Almost a pity he wouldn’t have it anymore within the hour. Almost.

She turned on the bonesaw and began removing the limb. Bone chips and marrow spattered on her face, she idly licked them away from her lips. The salty, copper taste drove her mad. She lived for this. It was her purpose.

The next step was to install the hookup sockets to his residual limbs. She touched the side of her head to take a lidar scan of each, before sending them to the replicator in the corner of the room. By the time she’d made her way over, four fresh limb sockets were waiting. She brought them back to her quarry and began fixing them to each limb in turn.

These would be hooked into the breeding chamber back at the nexus. They would carry everything this incubator would need to survive. Nutrition, water, power, networking.

“There,” she said to him, “Isn’t that so much better? Don’t you feel so much lighter? Freer?”

“I do, 38.” He used her designation. A good sign, this meant that the neural connection with the hive was already being established. Usually that took longer. Ellis would likely not reject the hive. That was always a concern. Incubators rarely experienced rejection, but fixing it was always a messy proposition that left the hive with a less-than-fully-functional drone.

“Do you know what’s next, Iota unit?” she asked him as she hooked his limb sockets into a temporary life-support machine

“I do not have access to that information at this time.”

38 smiled and said, “Next we install your chestplate unit, dear.”

She walked to there replicator and pulled out the unit. It resembled a mechanical simulacrum of human breasts in shape, although its function was quite different. This would be the Iota unit’s biomech support device. Hormone synthesizers, nutrition processors, oxygenation units, heat exchangers, blood filters, and an assortment of other devices were included.

Gently, lovingly, she lowered the device onto the Iota unit’s chest. Microhooks dug into his flesh, and he let out a moan of pleasure. Grey lines appeared under his skin as tubing and wiring melded itself with flesh and bone underneath.

She cupped his left breast with her hand, squeezing gently. The silicone skin gave little under her touch, but the Iota gasped and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on her, before lying back and relaxing again.

It was time for the best part. “Dear,” 38 said, “after this next step you will become Iota-723. Do you know what the next step is?”

“The next step is…” the incubator was thinking, “You give me my womb and pussy, correct?”

“Very good! That’s right!” 38 was beaming ear to ear. 723 was doing very nicely already, and 38 was eager to feel as he felt during this part.

She took a scalpel in her hand, “Just so you know,” she said, “You won’t be able to talk out loud after this until the incubator hardware is installed,”

“That’s okay,” she heard, not out loud, but through the wire. This one was learning quickly.

“Alright” she thought back, “here it comes”

She pressed the scalpel into the soft flesh of his underbelly, just below his sternum. A bit of blood wept from the incision. She carved down and around the lower perimeter of his ribcage, down and around his abdomen to his pelvis, then across his belly, back up to the other side of his ribcage, and back up to the sternum again.

“38,” she heard, again through the wire, “I think I might cum.”

“You have to wait, not yet. Trust me.” she thought back.

Tenderly, she reached her fingers under the skin, and peeled it back, exposing the organs underneath. No longer were they the bright pinks and reds of a normal human’s. Grey filaments spiderwebbed across them, the nanites inside already processing them for use later.

38 went about removing 723’s intestines, stomach, liver, lungs, pancreas, kidneys, bladder, and spleen. Soon, all that was left in the hollow chest cavity was 723’s heart. It was beating fast. Though its owner was quite unperturbed by the situation, the heart itself seemed terrified. 38 once again allowed herself to remember her own assimilation.

Lying on the table, a strong feminine hand reaching inside her, up under her ribcage. Pleasure aching through every remaining fiber of her flesh. Her heart pounding as if trying to knock down the wall of some impregnable fortress. She let this memory swim to 723, letting it communicate through feeling rather than words what was to happen next.

38 reached into 723’s ribcage, and gently clasped his heart in her hand. She reached the other hand in, the one holding the scalpel, and quickly cut through the vessels and ligaments holding the heart in place. It kept beating as she slowly pulled it out and presented it to him.

But 723 didn’t see. He was screaming, or rather, trying to, the pleasure overtaking him. His eyes rolled back into his head and the muscles that remained in his body flexed rhythmically as he experience the most powerful orgasm of his life.

When 38 had been assimilated, her orgasm had lasted for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. She sat there, stroking 723’s short, sandy hair, for more than 15 minutes, until the last waves of ecstasy left him.

When he finally relaxed, 38 stood up and retrieved the incubator hardware from the replicator. The main part of it consisted of an expandable tank, for growing embryonic drones. Other equipment included amniotic filters, immune augmentation, and a vocal synthesizer that would hook up to the throat to allow the unit to speak normally.

She lowered the hardware into the cavity, easing the accessories under 723’s ribcage and attaching the mount to his lower spine. When she was finished, she gently caressed the small window of the tank. “You’re going to make us such beautiful drones, dear.”

“That is all I want,” said 723, out loud now, “to serve the hive.”

“Well,” 38 replied, “you’ll need a pussy to be a proper breeding device, won’t you?”

“Yes!” he cried, excitedly, “give me my pussy!”

38 went to work. She opened up his scrotum first, removing the testicles and gently placing them aside. The next step was to remove the erectile tissue from the penis. She took great care while doing this not to cut the nerve that ran to the head. Damaging that would mean there wasn’t anything left to make 723’s clitoris, which would be a shame not just for him, but for the entire hive. An incubator that could not feel pleasure was no incubator at all.

She pressed the now-inverted penile skin up into 723’s abdomen, and felt the incubator hardware grasp and attach to it. She opened a small tube in one of her fingers and injected pleasure nanites into the cavity. They would lubricate and protect the birth canal, as well as make it more sensitive for both 723 and 723’s end user.

38 took some nano-suture and sewed small details into the skin outside, she placed the clitoris under a nice little hood, sewed small wrinkles into 723’s new lips, and, rather tastefully she thought, bunched up the pussy lips so they were nice and plump.

“723, would you like to see your new pussy?”

“Yes! Yes I would!”

Rather than hold up a mirror, 38 simply showed 723 how his pussy looked through her eyes.

“Oh god, it’s so cute!” he said, “I can’t wait to use it.”

38 smiled, “All in time. For now, you need rest.”

“Understood,” 723 said. He closed his eyes and slept while the nanites in his body finished up the finer details of installation.

Sigma-38 picked Iota-723 up, and carried him to the adjacent conditioning chamber. Gently, she hooked him into a wall mount, before turning and making her way to preprocessing.

723’s assimilation had taken only an hour. Incubators usually took less time than full drones, though. 38 stepped into preprocessing, and looked over the remaining 16 humans, (Sigma-47 was working on assimilating another) held by mag restraints on vertical beds. Her gaze fell on the captain.

Terry Holder’s sedation was just now wearing off, as 38 had planned. Groggily, the captain opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on 38. She struggled, ineffectually. The drugs were still in her system, still keeping her slow and weak. There was that look of confusion again, from her quarters, and recognition. Her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her, and she said, “Jenna? You’re alive?”

“Hello Terry,” said Sigma-38, “The Jenna you knew is long, long gone.”

[haze-phobia]

SHIP SHEET of mu OC Gertrude and Sebastion.

THEY DO NOT LOVE OR LIKE EACHOTHER!

Gertrude was a scientice working at the hedal blacksite, experementing and data orginisation.

[scientia-rex]

Stats 3

We're going to clarify one VERY, VERY important concept today, kids. And that concept should be pretty straightforward, but I've seen grown-ass researchers get it wrong before.

Sample vs population.

A population is all of the people of interest. Sometimes that means "everyone in this city" and sometimes it means "everyone who has this health condition" and sometimes it means "every human in the whole world."

Let's say I want to know the average lifespan of all humans. I can't get that data, can I? There's no beautiful centralized database where every single human being's age at death is recorded. It just doesn't exist.

So I'm looking at data where I can. I'm in the US. That means I can try to get access to various databases that may contain that information. But let's say I'm not affiliated with any major research universities, which, at present, I am not. So now I'm even more limited in my ability to get data.

So I started recording the age at death of every patient whose death certificate I sign. I sign a fair amount of these.

Now that's my sample: my own patients who die. This is a lot of steps removed from the population. The data I get from this will be virtually useless for answering my original question.

If I were at a major research institution (an R-1 institution, at least in the US, is a university that gets a large amount of grand funding for research), I might have access to a larger database. It's still probably going to be mostly US deaths, which might not have a lot in common with deaths around the world. Maybe I have databases from a handful of countries. A European death database. An Indian death database. Who gets counted in that? Who's dying somewhere with someone who will know and care and record it?

The idea of there being a true average age of death, a number that, if I chose one moment in time, it would be, is represented by the population mean: the Greek letter "mu,"

which you can take to mean "the thing we really want to know, but are forever separated from by the simple realities of research."

And in a distinct glow-down, what we get is simply the sample mean. X bar, which is to say, an x with a line over it. x̄.

What we want to know and what we can know are almost always different. Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little. Isn't that poetic? Isn't it terrible?

I love statistics, even when they're tearing out my heart.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The standard legend of India’s Green Revolution centers on two propositions. First, India faced a food crisis, with farms mired in tradition and unable to feed an exploding population; and second, Borlaug’s wheat seeds led to record harvests from 1968 on, replacing import dependence with food self-sufficiency.

Recent research shows that both claims are false.

India was importing wheat in the 1960s because of policy decisions, not overpopulation. After the nation achieved independence in 1947, Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru prioritized developing heavy industry. U.S. advisers encouraged this strategy and offered to provide India with surplus grain, which India accepted as cheap food for urban workers.

Meanwhile, the government urged Indian farmers to grow nonfood export crops to earn foreign currency. They switched millions of acres from rice to jute production, and by the mid-1960s India was exporting agricultural products.

Borlaug’s miracle seeds were not inherently more productive than many Indian wheat varieties. Rather, they just responded more effectively to high doses of chemical fertilizer. But while India had abundant manure from its cows, it produced almost no chemical fertilizer. It had to start spending heavily to import and subsidize fertilizer.

India did see a wheat boom after 1967, but there is evidence that this expensive new input-intensive approach was not the main cause. Rather, the Indian government established a new policy of paying higher prices for wheat. Unsurprisingly, Indian farmers planted more wheat and less of other crops.

Once India’s 1965-67 drought ended and the Green Revolution began, wheat production sped up, while production trends in other crops like rice, maize and pulses slowed down. Net food grain production, which was much more crucial than wheat production alone, actually resumed at the same growth rate as before.

But grain production became more erratic, forcing India to resume importing food by the mid-1970s. India also became dramatically more dependent on chemical fertilizer.

According to data from Indian economic and agricultural organizations, on the eve of the Green Revolution in 1965, Indian farmers needed 17 pounds (8 kilograms) of fertilizer to grow an average ton of food. By 1980, it took 96 pounds (44 kilograms). So, India replaced imports of wheat, which were virtually free food aid, with imports of fossil fuel-based fertilizer, paid for with precious international currency.

Today, India remains the world’s second-highest fertilizer importer, spending US$17.3 billion in 2022. Perversely, Green Revolution boosters call this extreme and expensive dependence “self-sufficiency.”