#like i can complain to my other supervisor but she technically reports to her so she cant do anything but bring it up to her

[queenerdloser]

i already complained about this to a coworker but maybe if i complain about it here i can purge it from my brain

so there's this specific type of data entry our admin team at work has to do for providers where we track how they spend their administrative time in order to make sure they're meeting required coverage given by my job. we had this huge kerfluffle earlier this year where we were told we needed to collect this like two weeks before it was due and there was seriously not enough turn around time and absolutely nothing in place - no procedure for how to get the data, no spreadsheet to put it in, barely any info on what we were supposed to collect, literally nothing.

so. earlier this year i made all of that stuff. and when we were told "oh hey btw this is not a one-time thing, you will have to continually collect this info" i went "okay but can we set down a set of guidelines and a procedure so we know what the expectations are and what exactly we're supposed to be doing?" and my boss went okay and then proceeded to spend three months not bringing the subject up.

and when it WAS we went VERY briefly over expectations (we need to submit it twice a year to my boss!) and that was it. so i went "okay, i'll draft up a procedure based on these loose guidelines and update our VERY sad spreadsheet" and i did that in about a week. and got feedback from another coworker, made my edits, and finished it all in roughly three weeks. i made a meeting so we could all talk about the procedure and the spreadsheet back in fucking july okay. the end of july. and then a few days before the meeting i was like "oh actually it'd be super helpful to get your specific feedback on these two (2!!!!!) items because this process is something we're literally doing for your benefit. we're collecting the data for you to pass on. and also. you are my boss so it does kind of feel like the creation of this kind of department-wide affecting stuff should have your input." and a few days wasn't enough so my boss asked if we could shift the meeting to a few weeks later and i was like okay fine w/e.

i took a vacation and got back in august. the meeting was coming up and i had asked for feedback before that. so i sent her a message, an email, and brought it up in our 1:1 meetings. she never got back to me with feedback, so i rescheduled again because i specifically asked her for her feedback and even specifically said i didn't want to meet until i had it. so another two weeks roll by and guess what? still no fucking feedback. so i reschedule again. i bring it up to her in our meeting again and she tells me oh yeah she's looking at it but if she doesn't get back to me before the next meeting just keep it, we'll talk about it at the meeting.

so we had this meeting today. and within the first ten minutes (in the middle of me explaining why we're meeting!!!!) she has the nerve to ask me "hey what is this meeting even for? what are we trying to figure out here?" as if i didn't send an email explicitly detailing why we were going to meet last week to everyone, as if i haven't brought this up with her several times, as if i didn't explain it in my original email asking for feedback.

and then we spent like half the meeting having to hash out changes that she brought up!!!!! things like oh actually this doesn't need to be formally reported twice a year, it's actually only going to be formally reported once a year with annual faculty reviews. like what the FUCK i based the entire procedure on the twice a year outline you gave. that's why i asked you to look at the procedure so i could make those kinds of changes BEFORE the meeting. i didn't want to spend the meeting trying to fix the procedure, i wanted to present it to our group as a finished thing! because now i have to go in and make these fucking changes she never bothered to tell me about for a month and a fucking half despite me repeatedly asking her specifically for feedback and put this project even FURTHER behind.

and like. she kept interrupting me during the meeting which is super frustrating. and she also just like. didn't answer any of the questions i DID have for her. me: "hey can you clarify if you are actually reporting this twice a year as was previously discussed or is it really only once a year with annual reviews? if so, do we need to have hard deadlines every six months to send this info to you?" her: "well i'd like it to be ready just in case i get asked, because i want to be able to go in there and see the most updated data." okay but that's not the question i asked you!!!!!

me: "so what i have in the procedure i have screen-shared is we should do these updates on a quarterly basis." her, two minutes later: "so you guys will have to decide how often you're planning to update this info." me: "yeah that's why i have it in the procedure we should do it on a quarterly basis." her: "you'll just really need to choose how often it's done."

she does this all the time!!!! like you are supposed to be the leadership in our department so would it kill you just to give me a straight answer and lead??? can you PLEASE just say "well this is due twice a year, so you need to keep it updated every quarter" instead of this wishy-washy stuff? and also when i send you something and ask for your fucking input can you give it to me without me begging you on my hands and knees for it for a month and a half? and also ahead of the meeting so we don't have to waste half of it talking about stuff we could have already figured out if you were actually halfway decent at your job?????

[stealtharchaeologist]

My roommates and I are moving, again, and let me tell you, the process of finding and applying for a place has gotten SO much worse.

We find a place that is... okay. Willing to apply for it while we keep looking, because stuff goes off the market fast around here. Firstly, to confirm my income, they want the name and phone number of a supervisor at my company. I'm like... WHY do you need to waste someone else's time? Why can't you ask for pay stubs like a normal application? I had to give written permission to my HR manager to reveal my salary. Okay. Bullshit. Fine.

We get to the end of the application and find out we need to put down first month's rent as an application deposit. Not application fee, not security deposit. If we are approved, and we choose to live somewhere else, they get to just keep that. $2,095.

So we stopped short. That's a LOT of money. And the security deposit is another $2,095!!! What the fuck?

(Speaking of which, many places want EVERY OCCUPANT to be making 3x rent??? Like, we wouldn't be living with roommates if that were the case!! Sure, I get that you want security if a roommate moves out, but that's completely unreasonable!)

My weekend boss actually works for a law firm focused on tenant rights, so I asked her if she's heard of that before, and she wasn't even sure that was legal. We did some research and determined it IS technically legal, just very unusual... most places ask for a few hundred at most, if they ask for an application deposit at all.

As we're complaining to each other about this, I scroll down the page to see an arbitration agreement and a class action waiver. I'm now deeply suspicious and start Googling the company, and sure enough, they're being sued to shit because reports came out in October that they're literally manipulating rental market rates across the country. They even had to go before the Senate about it.

Also the realty group have been obnoxious in emails. Good job, guys. You're out.

So we move on, find another house to apply for (one we like much better, though they already have another applicant), and THIS application asks for height, weight, hair color, eye color, and citizenship. Firstly, why the FUCK do you need to know my height and weight??? On a rental application??? Are you checking my BMI against the floor strength????? More importantly, did you know it's ILLEGAL to ask about race for renting? This feels like a thinly veiled attempt to determine our races. Which is, again, illegal.

Aaaaand, they ask in the application if we are requesting "any repairs or accommodations". So, again, it's COMPLETELY ILLEGAL to ask if an applicant has any disabilities or health issues. They don't do that, but asking if we want any "accommodations" is not-so-subtly asking if we have disabilities. Sure, they could be asking to have as much time as possible to make the modifications, but also, don't ask that IN THE APPLICATION. Excuse me??

It also asked about our cars, which in and of itself is innocuous - most places want to know what you'll be parking there - but they also want to know the amount of our car payments??? Why the FUCK do you need to know that, except to decide that OUR DISPOSABLE INCOME isn't good enough for you! No! You get to know our income and that's IT. It is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS what else we spend our money on!

Landlords are fucking trash. Just barely skirting the edge of legal to figure out what applications they can throw out. I'm so angry.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

-

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

-

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

-

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

-

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

-

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

-

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

-

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Pasts // Day 1

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 2,800+

Warnings: Reminsing of last chapter, Injury, Meteor City mentioned

Author Note: Ah! I’m glad to be back writing this series sorry for the long wait. I split chapter 4 up into multiple parts so it’s going to be looooong.

Also, I’ve started a Taglist for all of my series to make it easier for people to find out when the next installation is. So if you want the be added just sent me an ask thats not anonymous and I’ll add you.

<—(Pt.3) / (Pt.4.2)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

It was the eve of December 18th, when snow finally fell throughout the Republic of Padokea. However, there was no celebration or cheer by the citizens as all of the festive winter holidays had already passed by then. With most just deciding to bunker in for a quiet night at home. Even at the Hospital near the bloodthirsty Heaven’s Arena it was rather quiet, almost dull in a way.

Though, one specific doctor, Doctor (y/n) of the intensive care unit, had little to complain about the lack of patients and activity. It was rather refreshing actually, mostly due to the fact it was your last night on the job before you went on your week long holiday break, a break you had planned out with your supervisor months ahead of time.

Months before you had met a specific man. Much more specifically, a specific patient named Shalnark Ryuseih. A member of the infamous Phantom troupe who you had saved from his demise at the Heaven’s Arena.

…. As well as someone you might have developed a really really big crush on during your time taking care of him. But, that’s a story for another day and something you shouldn’t be worrying about right now. Especially since you still have plenty of time left on the clock before you go home.

As the seconds click a way, you find yourself letting out a groan. It was no use. You couldn’t get him out of your mind.

You just wished that it was the usual thoughts of Shalnark that festered in your mind during work. The ones that were caused from something as simple as him holding you in his arms tighter than usual while he slept one night or perhaps a teasing comment he shot at you while passing in the hall.

But that sadly wasn’t the case.

For the last couple of weeks, Shalnark had been acting…… weird.

Well he technically always acted weird—a man who actually enjoyed indulging in birthday cake flavored ice cream could not be considered normal in your book— but this time, he was actually acting quite strange.

Sometimes, when doing check ups or just visiting his room you could hear him sigh. It was quite unnoticeable at first, you had just thought he was frustrated with some new tech thing he got into, but as December went on the sigh only got heavier and more frequent. This was also when some of Shalnark’s other actions started to be strange as well, something as simple as,“What are you doing for the Holidays?” Or, actually now that you think about it, anything that was remotely related to the holidays would have the corner of his lips drop slightly. Something very strange for him, for he hardly faltered that smile of his.

And it wasn’t as if you weren’t trying to find out what was wrong. You had asked him plenty of times about his new habits. Though, in a Shalnark fashioned way, he would just brush you off with a grin and be confused as to what you were talking about.

So, if Shalnark isn’t going to tell you himself what was wrong. You were just going to have to take it upon yourself to make him feel better. Emotional health is just as important as physical health in your book.

“For the last time (y/n), I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.” Mal reminds you for the 15th time since you entered her office space.

“Yes, yes. I understand, don't worry about it.” You reassure the older woman as you continue to fill in the blanks to finish up the paperwork. All the while attempting to ignore her as she nags your ear off. “Okay I’m done. Thanks by the way Mal, I really owe you one”

As Mal takes the paperwork from your hands, she gives you one last warning of caution,

“I know Shalnark is under your care and all, and you have gotten pretty close to him during his stay…. but don’t you think having him leave with you for vacation is a little much? It’s legal, for some odd reason, but you should be careful. Not only is he a grown man that could try anything while you are alone with him but if any of the higher ups hear about this, you could get in a lot of trouble.”

“True, but I doubt that,” You hum out as you fumble with grabbing your winter coat off the rack, “The higher ups don’t exactly care much about paperwork unless one of the secretaries, like yourself, reports something. So unless you choose to report me, I don’t have much to worry about.”

“Fine. Just…. be careful. I swear you have been getting more and more reckless the more you spend with that man.”

“I will. Don’t worry, Mal. See you in a week!!”

“Okay, see you in a week.” Mal responds back, her wave goodbye immediately faltering as you close the door. Taking a deep breath to calm down the uneasy feeling in her gut, She just hoped you knew what you were doing.

Once Mal sends you off, you make your way in the direction of Shalnark’s room. You are excited to tell him about your little surprise but also quite scared because you did not exactly ask him… permission…. to sign him out.

“Come in.” Shalnark's voice rings out from behind the door as you knock. Coming into the room, you see that, as per normal, Shalnark was clicking away at his laptop. He seemed busy with something since even when you took the seat at his bedside he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the screen.

After a couple more minutes of listening to the clicking of keys, Shalnark finally closes his laptop and turns his attention to you.

“Hello (y/n)! What brings you in here today?” He asks, resting his chin on one of his hands as he observes you. As Shalnark scans you up and down you can’t help but notice the mischievous look in those blue eyes of his. You kind of wondered what he was thinking, or possibly planning, but then again— knowing Shalnark —you didn’t want to know what was running through that brain of his.

“Can’t I just visit you?”

“I guess you could.” Shalnark comments halfheartedly as if you don’t already visit him for fun on the daily already, “I’m just surprised you haven’t gone home for your vacation. It’s your last shift tonight, right?”

Shalnark might have asked the last part as a question, but you already knew— from tons of experience with dealing with him —that he already formed his own answer in his head.

“Missed me that much huh?...” Shalnark whispers out, his eyes seeming to sparkle under the light as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

“S-shut up.” You grumble out. Swiftly putting the paperwork in your hand up to your face as you could already feel your cheeks begin to flare up from flusteration. You swore this man had no sense of fear or dignity.

“Hmm?” You feel Shalnark grab at the paperwork wrinkled in your hand; recognizing his photo ID on the cover. “What’s this?”

“Paperwork.”

“What type of Paperwork?” Shalnark presses forward, already taking it from your hand to examine it. No matter how close you two have gotten during his stay, he has always been extremely thorough about looking at what you put down on his paperwork. Must be something he picked up while being in the troupe you guessed.

Suddenly, you see Shalnark’s gaze pause on a section of the paperwork. His body unintentionally freezing up in surprise as he rereads it again. However, instead of instantly asking or explaining his confusion, your eyes are trained to his lips, ever so slightly parted due to confusion.

Unconsciously, you run your fingers over your neck. Your mind flashing back to what happened when Shalnark was under the effect of the aphrodisiac drug. The tingly feeling of his lips raking up and down your neck. Kissing, sucking and biting at any possible skin he could—

“(Y/n), What is this?” He mumbles out, his eyes still trained to the paperwork.

“U-uh Well…” You pause for a second as you try to calm yourself down from your thoughts, thinking about what you should exactly say, “Recently, I’ve noticed you being quite down. Kind of depressed or miserable in a way—”

“Huh? I haven’t been depressed.” Shalnark exclaims, snapping out of the trance he was in as well as cutting off what you were saying.

“Let me finish idiot.” You grumble at Shalnark, flicking his forehead in anger. “Also even if you aren’t depressed—“

“Which I’m not.”

“...Do you want to get punched this time?” You threatened, watching as Shalnark suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Memories flashing in his head of Lara pissing you off and facing your unwavering wrath. After one last glare, you continued what you were explaining, “As I was saying, Even if you aren’t depressed, it would be good for you to get out of the hospital. Hence why I decided to sign you out for my vacation week.”

It’s silent in the room as Shalnark just stares at you; an unreadable expression on his face. However, before you can figure out what expression it was, he quickly snaps out of it.

“Oh nice. That’s actually awesome.” Shalnark announces out, letting out a small giggle. “Just one question though… Is this even legal?”

“In a way…” You squeak out, watching as Shalnark looks at you with a knowing smile. Clearly understanding that you were pressing the line of legality and a possible felony in this situation.

“Well,” You watch as Shalnark shuffles out of bed; Planting his feet in front of yours before sending you a subtle wink, “Let’s get out of here before we get caught, okay?”

—.—.—.—.—.—

“So,” Shalnark starts, looking at the small white townhouse in front of him, “This is your house?”

“Um. Yeah?” You answer questioningly as you fiddle with your keys, “What about it?”

“Oh nothing.” You watch as Shalnark squats down in front of the garden gnome next to your tomato plant. Seeming to take in the plethora of plants covering your front patio. “It’s cute. I like it.”

“Thanks.” You mumble out bashfully as you unlock the front door, “I only rent the bottom floor of this place so it's quite small. But it's home.”

Before you enter, You offer a hand to help Shalnark up (He still has quite the injury in his legs after all) and watch as he walks inside your house; a limp still ever present as he walks. You just hope that he doesn’t push himself too far while with you. He might be a nen user but—

“Oh wow!” Shalnark’s voice calls out from inside the house, breaking your train of thoughts as you shut and lock the door. Confused yet curious at what he found interesting in your house, you slipped off your shoes—taking a small mental note that you should tell Shalnark to take off his as he forgot to— and walked over to his location. As you round the corner of the hall and gaze into your living room, you can’t help but let out a huff of a laugh. You can’t believe you totally forgot about Chloe.

There she stood, your 8 year old Sphynx cat that a college roommate had given you years ago, curled up in a fluffy blanket on top of her cat tree. Shalnark stood in front of the tree, looking up at the cat with an amused look as it glared down at him.

“Chloe.” You call out to your cat as you make your way next to Shalnark, “Come here baby.”

As you lift the cat off the tower, still wrapped in a blanket, and cradle her in your arms, you feel your breath hitch for a second. You turn your head as you feel a sudden pressure on your back and see Shalnark leaning over your shoulder. You stood there frozen and flustered, unable to move or look away from his face, from how close he was to you. However, Shalnark doesn’t notice how flustered you are; his attention focused on the cat in your arms. Eventually, he brings his hand down to pet her. Watching curiously as she sniffs his hand for a second before allowing him to touch her.

“They truly don’t have any fur…” Shalnark muses out as he rubs at Chloe’s ears, causing you to smile as you feel the rumbling of her purrs against your chest. “Hey (y/n)... did you know these guys are actually from Meteor city?”

“Wait… Really?” You shout out surprised, finally snapping out of the trance you were in.

“Yep!” Shalnark states rather proudly, “They were caused by accidental breeding by abandoned cats in the junkyards. …Though, the ones from Meteor city are quite rabid and terrifying so you can’t pet them like this. They would surely kill you.”

Startled, you give Shalnark a confused look, “No way…You're joking…”

“Nope.” He responds, popping the ‘p’ at the end as he walks away from you two and takes a seat on the couch. Your back suddenly feeling quite cold now that he was no longer next to you. “Even our toughest members like Phinks and Feitan were scared of those things.”

“Oh wow…“ You mumble out in amazement, placing Chloe back at the top level of the cat tree before taking a seat next to Shalnark. “...Meteor City sure sounds scary.”

“Eh, in a way.” Shalnark sighs out, stretching his back before suddenly resting his head on your lap. Startled at the act of affection, you freeze and stare down at him. Your mouth agape in shock. What… What was he doing?

“Oh.” Shalnark murmurs out as he takes note of your expression, already beginning to sit up, “Sorry, I stepped over a line didn’t I—”

“Ah! No!” You shout out, startling the both of you at how loud you were, “I mean… uh. I don’t mind, it just surprised me that’s all.”

“Oh. Okay?” Shalnark says, raising an eyebrow at you. As he sees your still worried expression looking down at him as he lays back down, he decides to flick at your forehead, surprising you. You two stare at each other for a couple of seconds before breaking out into light laughter at your stupid expression.

“W-what was that huh?”

As your laughter eventually stops, leaving you two in a comfortable silence, you stare down at Shalnark; his arms lazily crossed above his head with his eyes shut.

“You know…” You start, a stifle of a giggle sneaking up as a funny thought crosses your mind, “...You remind me of a cat right now.”

“Oh really?” Shalnark huffs out amused, popping one of his eyes open to gaze up at you.

“Yeah. All elongated on the couch, looking like you're about to fall fast asleep… Just like a little kitty cat.” You cooed out at him, taking two strands on the opposite sides of his head to form cat ears.

Shalnark sputters out a laugh before sending you a wink, “Go on. Give me a pet, Doc.”

You feel yourself freeze up as everything that has happened in these last couple of minutes hits you like a truck. Shit… You're his doctor, you idiot. This was what Mal was talking about about you getting too close with him. You have feeling for him but you can’t—

“Hey (y/n). You know…” Shalnark murmurs out, snapping you out of your thought, “One day…, I would like to take you to Meteor City.”

“R-really?” You answered, confused as where this was suddenly coming from.

“Yeah…” You watch as Shalnark eyes shift up towards the ceiling. His eyes unfocused and expression dazed as if he was off in a distant memory, “Not right now… But, In the spring…”

A smile slowly edges its way onto his face.

“Yeah… The spring,” He murmurs out again, sort of to himself, before looking at you, “You wouldn’t believe what it is like in Meteor City at the start of spring, (Y/n)... After a long hard rainy winter, seeds from rotten food, or hidden in garbage, come blooming out. It hardly lasts a month but… It’s gorgeous….”

As he stares up at you with those dazzling blue eyes of his, you can’t help but finally allow your hand to rest in his blonde locks. Wanting to understand more about that far off memory he had.

“I-I…” You murmur out, pausing as a small smile comes upon your face, “I can’t wait… Shal. Do… Do you think you could tell me more about your home while I wait?”

Just…

Just one more time, you’ll let your affections slide.

Allowing yourself to blur the lines of professionalism and wanting more.

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven, @yumezai, @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation , @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12, @aly-kurta, @bbunnycore, @feifood

[prorevenge]

Sexually harass me and think you're getting away with it? Find out that I get by with a little help from my friends.

First post, and a REALLY long one, I’m so sorry. Obviously on a throwaway.

This was awhile ago, way before the Me Too movement, before stuff like this was taken seriously. Additionally I feel a need to re-iterate that this was not revenge wrought solely by myself, but also by some of the fantastic guys I worked with, and the brave women who also stepped forward. They deserve credit as well.

TL;DR at the bottom.

---

I was working and going to college in a high-tourism area in one of the lower states, getting my Bachelor’s in Hospitality. I loved the company I worked for, and my university was practically partnered with them, so initially my life wasn’t super hectic. Go to class, go to work, and go home. At some point though, the branch of the company I was working for started to cut hours, a lot. As a part-timer, this meant I was among the first to have their hours chopped. Around this time, I was also told that I needed a third internship for my degree, and it couldn’t be in the same place I had been in. (They had already counted that position as internship #2) Because of this, and helped by the fact that I was barely getting by with my reduced paychecks, I went to the career center to ask about jobs in the area, and they recommended me to a nearby golf course that needed employees.

Relevant Info: To explain the backstory on the management of this golf course: it was run by a third party management company, operating under the umbrella of a massive hospitality company. This is not unusual for golf courses, the golf industry was/is hurting and frankly this is the only way for most of them to break even. While I was technically working directly for this third party, I was also listed as a “contractor” for the large umbrella company.

My upper boss, the director, was okay, if not a little oblivious. The assistant director under him was a jerk, and the string of supervisors under him were hit or miss. When I started, I was the only woman on the operations side of the team. You had several groups: The pro shop guys (also supervisors), the beverage/snack girls that ran the snack stand and the carts that buzzed around the course, the course starters (usually older, retirement age, been with the company a long time), and the ground operations group (where I was). Most of the ops guys were wary of me at first, but after they saw that I was willing to do as much of the manual labor as they did, they accepted me. I didn’t love my job, but it was a paycheck and it counted for my degree. It was a lot of manual labor: lifting clubs, baskets of practice balls, running from one spot to another, shifting golf carts around throughout the day, driving big course equipment, and lots of guest interaction. Everything was okay, and I was learning a lot, until one of the older ops guys (let’s call him Bob) got promoted to supervisor.

Bob had been stellar as an operations guy, but around the time he got this promotion, his wife also filed for divorce. His home life took a steep nose dive, and unfortunately it carried over to his work ethic. We all felt bad for him, and initially tried to help as much as we could. As time went on though, Bob went from being sad and depressed, to being an outright asshole. He was in his mid-40’s and started crashing gatherings with all of us 20-somethings. This wouldn’t have been an issue, except he started aggressively trying to pick up girls wherever we went. He became the textbook case of the sleazy guy that would get roaring drunk, and complain “She didn’t respond to my creepy flirtations, so she must be a b*tch”. I stopped going to these group outings for this reason, along with several others. His behavior was making a lot of us uncomfortable.

Eventually, his creepy behavior rolled over to work. He would be AWOL for hours, out chasing down the cart girls. When he wasn’t doing that, he was sitting in the club storage area regaling the younger ops guys with his stories of “conquests”. I tried to stay away as much as possible, but there were several shifts where I was assigned to deep clean the rental clubs, or re-stock equipment, and then I couldn’t get away. I won’t go into detail on some of what he did, but it was bad. Major sexual harassment. Some of the lighter instances were suggestive comments about my appearance, or “let me show you what you can do to your boyfriend” –with matching hand gestures. I felt I couldn’t quit because I only had a few months or so left of my time with the job before I graduated, and I needed that internship credit. Going to the director and the guy under him went nowhere, his answer was to pull Bob from the course to “apologize” to me, and then “…go on and give her a hug! See? Everything is fine now!” I felt totally powerless, but got some sage advice from my dad to start documenting EVERYTHING. Dates, times, location, witnesses, and what Bob was doing.

After seeing how the director treated his infractions, Bob started getting bolder and less careful. These harassment events were beginning happen in full view of several of the other guys. One afternoon, two of the starters that I had become close with happened to walk into club storage right as Bob made one of his sexually-charged remarks. Bob seemed not to notice them, but I saw both of their eyebrows shoot up. One of the guys started to get visibly angry and had to be quietly pulled out of the room by the other. I made a lame excuse to leave the room right after this, ducking Bob’s grab, and ran outside. The two starters were standing not far away, speaking in low, angry tones. As soon as they saw me, they waved me over, far out of earshot of the other employees and Bob. They asked for an explanation, and I told them everything that had been happening, including how the director had treated me when I went in to complain. They were incensed. Immediately, they physically walked me back into the director’s office, and shut the door behind them. Keeping me between them, they told the director what they had witnessed, what they had heard, and if he didn’t handle it the way he was supposed to, by company policy, they would go over his head and report it to the umbrella company themselves. The director was startled, but calmly told them that one witnessed incident was hardly reason to go to “corporate”, and that this issue had already been “handled”. This was when I finally chimed in, re-iterating that the sexual harassment had only gotten worse, that I had a 4 page word document at home with countless time stamps and witnesses, along with the record of how he previously “handled” my complaint. A document that I would not hesitate to email to whoever needed proof, per the starters’ advice. We saw the blood physically drain from his face, and he asked us to step out so he could make a phone call. I ended up finishing the rest of my shift with the starters, then went home.

When I showed up the next afternoon, the jerk under the director came out and asked that I run back home to get a copy of my reporting’s. He also said that we had to sit in on a group call with the umbrella hospitality company in about 2 hours. During this time, they sent Bob out to monitor the course so he wouldn’t get suspicious. What I didn’t know, and found out during the meeting, is that in the span of one evening and morning, the other cart girls had somehow gotten wind of my report being taken seriously by the director. (I suspect the starters mentioned it to them)They came in, nearly the entire female snack staff, to pile on their own harassment claims. It was no longer one minor female “peon” reporting him, it was now a massive group. The director knew they had a problem. The umbrella company requested that I read my entire record during the call, and when I got to the bit about the “hug and apology” that the director had requested, he looked like he wanted to become one with the carpet in his office. When the call ended, the voices in the phone requested to speak with the director alone, and the rest of us (me, assistant director, starters, and the third party company rep that had been asked to come in) filed out of the room. After about 10 minutes, we were called back in. The director was silent and pale, and the voice in the phone promised me that I wouldn’t be bothered anymore by Bob, and to contact them directly if I had any further problems.

They sent me out to the other side of the course, to keep me away, while they then called Bob in to the office. I didn’t witness what happened, but I was told later that Bob came storming out of the office after about 10 minutes, kicking golf carts and throwing things as he left. Yelling out to the other ops guys in the vicinity that “all women are b*tches!” as he went to his car. Not only had been fired, but he was further statused as a no-rehire, and BANNED, with/from ALL the courses (run by both the umbrella company and the third party, who owned/operated a sizeable list of properties) in the area. The director eventually was transferred out to a smaller course, and the jerk under him was moved as well. We got a much better management team in to replace them, and I was able to finish my time with the company with no further issues. I am happy to say that I still keep in touch with the starters and other guys to this very day.

TL;DR I was continuously sexually harassed by my supervisor, but was finally able to get justice with the help of my coworkers, and he lost his job while also being blacklisted from all courses in the area.

(source) (story by Iwritenovels1234)

[roedusk]

Maalraas Pt2 (Knol and Savage)

And here is part two, my best guess of what the chapters would look like.  This is all I have right now but hopefully my inspiration stays with me and I can get more done over the next few days.

- - - - - - - - - -

There was not an armada lying in wait for them at Manaan.  There wasn't even that much of a conflict getting clearance to land on one of the smaller medical platforms.  The only hiccup was when her bioscan came up as a perfect match but listed her as deceased.  And that was a simple matter of explaining to the security doctor in question that she's been out of contact since her last mission and hadn't realized she was presumed dead.  They just updated her official file and that was that.

The station they'd gotten permission to land on was more of a xenobiology lab than a proper medical facility, but that was why spaceport security had directed them there.  If nothing else the small team's excitement at the prospect of studying actual Orbalisk venom meant Sunshine was immediately rushed into intensive care.

An hour later the facility supervisor took Knol aside and quietly informed her it was a miracle the Zabrak had survived this long at all.  Even for a species renowned for their survivability, many systems were already on the border of shutting down.  They would continue to run tests against the samples they'd extracted from both his blood and the soiled Duvet, but in all likelihood they were going to lose him.

On the other hand they'd been able to send away for Zabrak positive blood from a larger medical facility, and hooked him up to an IV in a private room where she could sit with him in case they had any news.

Knol spent the next few hours slipping in and out of a restless meditation, answering whatever questions she could whenever the techs came by or a nurse came by to check readings.  In spite of the toxin still burning it's way through his system Sunshine was somehow still hanging on at just above cascade failure.  Not a single one of his systems had failed, in spite of the continuing damage and the pain Knol could still feel radiating off him.

It was an offhand comment from one of the lab techs that made her consider this might be part of the Nightsister magics as well.

"I just can't make sense of it," the woman complained after reading the readouts for a third time and getting the same results. "Everything we see says he should be seconds away from finally collapsing, but it's been hours and though the damage is spreading further into his extremities the core functions are no longer getting any worse.  It's as if something is physically holding his system together at a baseline functionality.  Because it refuses to let him fall apart before total collapse."

And to the doctors that probably sounds like the hint of some not yet understood medical miracle.  But Knol's Sith guest had all but admitted to being enhanced through some Dathomiri Force sorcery.  If they could rewrite his brain on such a basic level, what's to say they didn't rewrite his body as well?

And would Diath's knowledge of shields and force suggestion be able to help if it was a biological rewrite rather than a purely mental one?

She keeps coming back to it over the next six hours, no matter how many times she tells herself to set it aside, and that Fay is still a possible plan B.

She's still thinking about it when the lab tech comes running back in with the latest sample results and says that Sunshine's system has actually started producing antitoxin for the Orbalisk poison, slowly binding and neutralizing the poison in his system. And they can start manufacturing a synthetic variant right away.

After that there's a rush to produce and deliver the anti-toxin as quickly as possible, hopefully accelerating the process.  As the doctors work Knol sets about locating a ship that she can use to take them off planet, and somewhere she can ditch Dooku's ship without dooming the unsuspecting civilian she sells it too.

In the end Station Security is willing to risk taking the ship off her hands.  It's technically contraband siezed from a separatist sympathiser, and one of their techs is really excited to get his hands on the solar sail that comes with it.  As long as he doesn't take the sail appart they can just hand the ship over to Dooku as reclaimed property if he ever comes looking for it again.

The station commander is even willing to hand over one of the vessels they have impounded in return.  She's a liscenced jedi so he can wave payment for the ship without having to report it being a thank you for turning over Dooku's sailer.  And the ship in question has been in lockup, unclaimed for over a decade.

Knol's pretty sure she can handle some angry spacer somewhere trying to take her down for driving their ship, so she accepts the offer.  The commander agrees to hold onto the sailer until she has a chance to search it and move anything she wants to keep to the new vessel.

Then the deed transfer comes through and she curses.  A Mandal Motors Rawl Class Diplomatic Transport, licensed only a few days before the bombardment 7 centuries ago.  No wonder the spaceport was interested in getting it off-planet.  If the Clan that owned it isn't dead they'll probably kill to get it back.  Even if they are, Death watch certainly wouldn't mind getting their hands on it.

But heck, it should be fast, durable, and well armed.  She'll take what she can get.  She can get the Sith to fight any Death Watch who show up or something.

The ships more or less out of the way, Knol turns her attention to tracking down Tae Diath.  Even recently back from the dead she's not interested in using her (still active) Council issued codes to request the information.  Fortunately the agent she set to watch the boy after the bar brawl still has him, and is prompt in responding to her requesting an update.

The doctor flags her down for an update before she finishes decrypting it.

"We believe the majority of the toxin in his system has been isolated, and will be increasing the temperature and his fluid intake in an effort to purge the resultant compounds from his body.  If possible we would ask you to wait outside for this period, as it increases the risk of infection in bystanders.  As his current caretaker we would also ask your permission to induce a light fever, on the assumption that increased sweating will accelerate the process."

Knol considers this for a moment then nods, her coat shifting to lie flat once again.  "Permission granted.  Just remember that he might not react well if he wakes up in the presence of strangers and don't hesitate to call me back if it looks like he might wake up."

"Of course, we will keep you updated."

As she left a part of Knol's better judgement was screaming at her to go back and stand guard.  The Sith might wake up and murder everyone at any point, what right did she have to risk everyone on the base by returning to the Orbital Control Station?  But she needed to get the Sailer up there anyway and move whatever she wanted to take over to the Rawl.  Dooku still hadn't tracked them down, but the longer they stayed in one place the less likely that would hold true.

Knol would really rather have her new, unbugged vessel ready for emergency liftoff down at the labs before that happened.

- - - - - - - - - -

Knol isn't sure what she expected but the ship is a deep woody brown, shifting between darker and lighter shades that she can't even begin to know the meaning of and tipped with stripes of red and yellow.  She'd been idly considering if she should ask the station to do a quick repaint, if the ship turned out to be Death Watch blue or something of the sort, but this wasn't bad.

With the transfer paperwork in hand she just had to give it a name and they could give her the keys.  Maalraas, she decided after agonizing over the choice for a full fifteen minutes.  That's what the legend of the stealth beasts on Dxun had called them, dark shades.  But not so dark after all, and at least this ship had the teeth to match.

Stripping Dooku's ship of anything valuable came next.  She took the remains of the Sith's armor, most of the medical supplies, the Count's spare clothes and the sheets.  Then she went back for the expensive alcohol and the real wood holotable, just to tweak his nose some more.  She'd have to nail it down somewhere and replace the fixtures she'd ripped out of it, but it would actually match the Maalrass's lounge surprisingly well.

Deciding that was enough for now Knol paid one last visit to the commander's office to sign over the sailer.  The selkath gave her a grin and thanked her for apprehending the criminals who stole it before sending her on her way.

Though over double the size before countung wingspan, the Maalraas still fits easily on the research station's landing pad.  The only spot of color over the ocean, looking like some large out of place bird.  Or maybe a beached fish.

The facility supervisor waves her over when she steps in the door, indicating the crate of supplies standing beside them.

"We made up a list of suppliments your friend should take to help in dealing with the cellular damage.  Protien, trace minerals, everything he should get in a healthy diet that might not be available while in depe space." They tap the datapad in their hand with a smile. "Dirrections are all on here.  With another set for the second crate.  That one's emergency stabeliers if he suddenly has a crash during recovery.  These are whatever we could supply from our own stores but it should be enough to keep him alive until you reach another medical facility.  As a thank you and we'll wishes from everyone here to his speedy recovery."

"It's appreciated, and I'm sure he'll appreciate it too," Knol agrees, considering the crates and the datapad.  "How did you know we'd be leaving?  Most doctors I know want their patients to stay in bed until they're recovered.  Argue it pretty strongly."

The selkath shakes their head lightly.  "You said as much when you came in.  Whatever we could do for him as fast as we could, even thought you could not say why he was suffering from Orbalisk toxin.  Then, as soon as he might be on the mend you started planning your departure.  Master Jedi, whatever it is you're attempting to do, it's clear time is of the essence.  And as much as we'd all rather your friend remain in bed until he's fully recovered, well, it's clear you don't have that much time."

Knol's fur ruffles involuntarilly at the accurate read but she gives the doctor a faint smile.

"You're right.  But if it helps, I'll try to play doctor stand-in and argue that Sunny stay in bed as long as possible as we travel."

The selkath actually laughs at that, shaking their head as they hand over the datapad.  "Then, on behalf of doctors everywhere, I dearly hope you learn something from the experience."

Knol isn't sure what to say to that, but takes the datapad and the excuse to leave the conversation, securing the crates on the Maalraas before returning to Sunshine's observation room.

The cleaning droid leaving the room happily informs her that the sweat-soaked blanket this time was only barely stained black, and after a few more quarter hour periods the isolated venom content in his blood should be at a managable level.  The bothan can feel the stifling heat in the room before she arrives, radiating through the force as the Sith struggles with his fever, still too weak to wake up fully, but no longer as deeply unconscious.

The technition keeping an eye on his charts from outside the room waves her over, explaining that they believe the venom is inactive, and about 75% has been successfully purged.  But they're concerned that the remaining percentage won't be properly filtered by a ship's water recycler, and might still be toxic enough to kill anyone other than a Zabrak. So they're pushing to get as much of it out of him as they can.

"I just hope we manage to find a more stable solution soon," the technician admits softly.  "Waiting for him to reach 100% toxicity free isn't viable.  And in the meantime he's unconscious, suffering thought a feever while already at his worst."

Knol freezes as the technition turns back to monitoring the console.  She hadn't considered the risk of contamination in the closed environment of a ship.  But more than that, she'd left a recently abandoned force sensitive to suffer through a feever alone, with her only though being for the potential destruction he could cause when finally awake.

Reaching out to the twisting energy in the other room Knol tries to draw up a feeling of calm the way the Temple Healers do, with minimal success.  Unlike the injured jedi she's seen, the Sith doesn't even seem to realise an attempt a comfort is present, and attempting to wrap it around him herself only seems to agitate him more.

But it's fire that torments the sleeping Zabrak, a burning he can't escape or pinpoint the origin of, attempting to devour him from the inside out.  And fire Knol knows how to handle.

Moving to sit at the base of the wall she reaches out into the Force again, feeling the battered presence of the Sith flickering at her back.  In her mind Knol tucks that candle under her collarbone, focusing on slowly spinning the fire threatening to overwhelm it away, until the ache of the fever is a vortex around them rather than on top of them, no longer battering the Zabrak's exhausted mind.

To her surprise the candlelight doesn't resist, but neither does it lean into the offered protection.  It just continues flickering in exhausted circles where she left it, accepting what comfort she might give without expecting anything more.

A hand on her arm draws her back to the hall, though the vortex still turns in the back of her mind.

The technition smiles apologetically down at her.  "The director thinks we can program anpatch for your filtration computer to make sure the remaining particles are filtered correctly, and the simulations estimate 92% of the toxins have been purged.  The Droids are going to break his feever now.  Then they'll do one last sponge bath and change the sheets one more time."

With half her mind still meditating Knol can only manage a quiet thank you, but that's all that seems to be required before the selcath wanders off again.

She's investing herself too much, Knol realizes, waffling between her usual pragmatic approach and a biting sort of empathy that the Sith may never return.  Lowering her shields this far, attempting a shared meditation to shield not just a stranger, but a powerful darkside user from their own mind while they're weak, it could do real damage to both of them if she messes up, if he wakes up badly and lashes out.  And yet randomly dropping the protection will definitely hurt them both, plus the Sith wouldn't know why she'd done it.  Knol needs to pick how far she's willing to go and stay there so the Sith knows the rules she expects him to follow, no more of this waffling all over the place.

She still needs to decrypt the Tae report, they need a destination and to leave as soon as possible.  And yet the Bothan's more concerned with the mental state of someone she should really be calling 'prisoner' rather than 'charge'.  Where she hadn't cared beyond stealing him out from under Dooku's nose a day ago.

It's been too long since she rested, perhaps, her mind leaping between extremes more on instinct than discernable logic.  Knol can't sleep just yet, not when the Sith might wake at any moment and not when she's the one holding back his pain.  But an hour or two in meditation should help somewhat.

She slips back into the Force, eyes closed and breathing steady.  The vortex stays around the edge of her mind, the fire slowly fading to be replaced by shattering lightning, but Knol doesn't dwell on the why's, just leaves the candle flame flickering in her shadow as a buffer against the storm she's holding at bay, and loses herself in the moments that pass, letting her mind focus on nothing, letting it rest.

Some time later she's interrupted by a concerned technician, who tells her she can safely re-enter the room now, and wouldn't she be more comfortable in a chair?  Knol follows with the minimum required attention, settling into the offered chair and slipping back into a meditation quiet enough it might as well be sleep.  Beside her the Sith breathes quietly, the rhythm matching the vortex in her mind.  It's a simple matter to slip into that center once again.

Technicians wander through to check the charts, departing on footsteps as quiet as they can make them in the hopes of letting the jedi rest.

It will be some hours before either force sensitive wakes again.

- - - - - - - - - -

Savage's first sensation is of pain.  A full ache that itches along the edge of awareness, like the burn of sith lightning in the air just before it hits.  There's a force presence hanging over his, idly pushing the full bite of that pain out of his reach, sliding any part of it that ventures too close neatly behind glass.

He wants to curl up small and hope that that presence lets him stay here a while longer.  But the glass is too familiar, and he can't bear to have more of himself locked away.

"Please," he begs, not certain what to expect for this disobedience but desperate to try.  "Please, give it back."

A hesitation and part of him knows this is when he hurts again, but that's what he wanted, so the slow sinking burn of his body coming back to him doesn't feel as much like a rebuke as it probably should.

The ache of lightning fills his bones, his limbs, the edges of his thoughts, and he struggles to breathe through it for a moment, trying to direct the ache into rage as he was shown, but again he fails.  The force presence doesn't leave though, doesn't pull back in disgust at his failure and leave him to suffer through on his own.  Doesn't strike him down with lighting a second time and demand he do better.

Savage forces himself to open his eyes, and finds the Bothan Jedi staring down at him.

"Sorry, I should have asked first," she says.  "Wasn't thinking about the mind control and how not having access to what you're feeling might come across the same way.  It just felt like you were in a lot of pain.  How are you feeling now?"

"It burns like Sith Lightning," he responds simply.  "And I feel tired, weak.  I do not know how much help I will be in this state."

"Well, a lot of your internals were damaged by the poison before they finally flushed it out.  You're going to be weak and achy while your body recovers." The Jedi shrugs like it doesn't matter. "They were able to pack up some supplements for you to take to speed up the recovery process.  Until then you'll be resting in your bunk as much as possible, so it should be fine."

She hesitates then, before continuing in a lower voice.

"Something about what the Nightsisters did to you enhanced your body, didn't it?" At Savage's nod she sighed.  "Whatever it was saved your life.  There was… something that refused to let the poison kill that last 30% of all systems your body needs to keep functioning.  It let you hold on, and even started neutralizing the poison so the scientists here could copy it and make an antidote.  Now that the toxin's gone you should begin to heal again, but you're still only at 30%, so take it slow, alright?"

The Nightsisters' magics kept him alive.  In the back of his mind he admits that the theory makes sense, why waste time crafting a super-soldier who could be taken down by such simple means as poison?  But at the fore is a feeling much like drowning.  Savage is finding he would rather it had been the doctors, or some form or Jedi heeling, even a quirk of biology, rather than the magics woven into his blood.

A hand settles on his shoulder, shockingly warm for its size.

"Come on, Sunshine, breathe," the Jedi murmurs down at him.  "It doesn't matter if I'm right or not.  You're alive now, you're on the mend, and we'll get rid of every scrap of their magic in your system if that's what you want."

He's not sure if he wants that, isn't sure if that's even what he's feeling or if some fraction of his uncertainty comes from feeling eternally trapped behind glass, and he can't find the words at the moment to express any of that.

So of course his mind catches on the one work he knows doesn't belong.

"That's… not my name?"

The Jedi blinks, then grins at him.  "Well, yeah.  I never got your name, so I needed to call you something."

"My name is Savage," he manages, confused.  And the Jedi just smiled wider gesturing to herself.

"Mine's Knol, nice to meet you.  So, what do you think?  Can I keep calling you Sunshine or would you rather I just stick to Savage?"

He freezes again, uncertain what answer he's supposed to give.  It wasn't terrible, when she called him that, and he doesn't want to anger her by claiming it was.  But loosing Savage, loosing that last part of what made him him before Ventress…

There's warm fingers on his temple and another hand on his wrist.

"Savage, hey.  Come on, kid, breathe.  I can use both, and if it still feels strange after a while we can discuss it again later."

He breathes, sucking in one breath after another on her orders until he can keep the rhythm on his own.  Then he nods quickly, careful not to catch her fingers with his horns.

"Both."

The hand on his wrist squeezes gently, sending a stab of pain up his arm even as it feels like reassurance.  The Jedi, Knol's, fur ruffles as well, softening the curve of her jaw for a moment, and he wonders if it's meant as a threat display or something else.

Knol just grins at him again, though, before waving a hand at the door.  "I managed to find us a ship, so we're ready to leave as soon as you get the clear.  Even managed to find a clue where to find the guy who can fix your head."

He wants it fixed, wants in a way he can't remember wanting much else right now, but knows he did.  Wants his mind back without the walls of glad he has to struggle to work around with every lesson.  Even though he can't move, and will be next to useless against any of their pursuers the Jedi keeps offering that chance, and he has to take it.  He can only hope whatever will be required if him to repay her isn't worse than what has come before.

"When can we leave?" He manages after a long pause.  The Jedi laughs.

"Should have known that would be your response.  No worries, I'll see if I can flag down a tech and get us out of here today."

With a final wave she leaves, taking the last lingering comfort with her.  Savage let her go without clinging to it.  He needed his mind back, his own will.  Comfort was inconsequential in the face of that.

[cosmosogler]

hi guys. i feel like i did so much today but i didn’t get much work done. worried about catching up in time for my final on friday, LET ALONE ACTUALLY PRACTICING!!!

i got up alllmost on time. i was having dreams... i keep thinking that i’m dreaming about a businessman even though i know for a fact that he did not actually appear in my dream last night. i don’t remember what it was about but i remember making a note to myself that this guy wasn’t there. i don’t know if he’s ever actually shown up in a dream.

oh! i remember what i was dreaming about. actually it was kind of awful. i was in like... some kind of class? i was tracking down some bad guys for the class. but i seemed to be under the impression that it was for graphic design. these guys climbed into some boats and started floating down a river to get some Good Pictures for their own graphic design class. i was supposed to get more info so i decided to get in a boat. “be careful when you get into these. they’ll show you who you really are,” the other class’ teacher said to everyone. he said something like that. maybe THAT was the businessman, making a sneaky cameo in the background?

i climbed into the boat and it immediately saran wrapped itself around me and i got tangled and stuck and immediately sunk to the bottom of the river. i was terrified and then, just, resigned i guess. 

that usually happens when i drown in my dreams. i guess i can technically breathe since in real life i’m not suffocating, but in the dream i know i am about to die and i just kinda accept it.

easier than getting my head melted by acid or whatever i guess.

anyway i was exhausted all day and didn’t feel like i’d gotten enough sleep at all. i took notes in quantum though even though we didn’t need to. i got a full week of classical notes to catch up on again even though i went to class... just couldn’t bring myself to take notes i guess. i was zoning out hardcore in classical this morning.

after class we went to spaghetti day and i had a good time with that. harrison got interrupted a bunch so he turned to me and said “now i know how you feel.” 

then i went to group therapy. i heard some words that i have been thinking about. the idea is that you tell people how you are doing very matter of factly and just, like, inform them. i said i usually try to do that and then have to figure out how i am actually feeling AS i’m talking to them so it sounds like i am very freaked out and very sad. 

i might have to give that a try if i’m going to get my classmates into a position where they can help me. process all my emotions myself (not easy) and then let them know how that goes (also not easy and not easy to find time for). 

after that i went to the department and TRIED to do some work but did not succeed. then it was time to go to my psychiatrist appointment. i got my meds adjusted again and she asked how i was sleeping. i told her about some of the nightmares i have been having. we talked about how to get my family to respect boundaries i set over the break and i couldn’t come up with any good answer. i said “if anyone touches me i will bite them” and she took that a little more seriously than i intended.

when i was catching the bus back to the office i noticed the air had gotten much colder. it’s going to be about 20 degrees cooler tomorrow and it might rain. i am running out of pants.

since i still couldn’t get working on my homework i decided to finalize my grades for the lab. i had one student who did every single possible thing to piss off chuck, my supervisor. he missed his make-up lab, came in late and asked to do it then, realized he had a class and asked to come again later, and... there was something else he did around chuck that i have forgotten but it was enough for chuck to complain to me that he’s an idiot. i didn’t voice any strong opinions about it to him though.

while i was grading though, i noticed that the student had made up a lab that he’d already done and turned in to me. he also did worse on it than before so i couldn’t bump up his grade. he did not make up the other lab (or two, rather) that he was actually missing. 

i felt like he put me in a bad position. it may have been my fault- i may have looked at the role call paper and told him he was absent from a lab even though i had collected that report from him already. i don’t know when he asked me- it was between classes, i had to prepare for the next section and had to hurry, i must have been behind on grading. my classmates said it was his responsibility since he has lots of resources for figuring out which labs he’s done and not done.

oh, i remember what else he did. he forgot his lab manual so chuck had to dig up a new one for him to work out of.

anyway i got my grades in order and tried to work through the guilt. i talked to suzanne and jake and taylor for a while, i think adamya was also there for most of the conversation. then i biked home and made some buffalo chick’n and had the rest of my eggnog and did homework for an hour. now it is 10:30. suzanne told me to get enough sleep for god’s sake jUST GO TO BED PLEA

something good that happened today was that i felt very engaged with group therapy. i didn’t talk about myself but i felt comfortable sharing my reactions with the people we focused on today and that’s something that i do need to work on. framing, like, “criticism” (it wasn’t really criticism, i don’t know what word to use) as questions helped me figure out where i was going with some of my trains of thought too. i think i do that a lot more now than i used to.

advice, maybe? i dunno.

but i felt involved and everyone was very friendly and i think we have become Team Extreme Competence as far as emotional management goes. i mean the emotions are still all out of whack of course but i have definitely... figured out more about how i want to handle them this semester i think. gotten more advice on how to take care of myself and make myself scarce if i don’t actually want to talk to mom. i haven’t answered any of her calls for quite a while now. i reject them and tell her to text me and then if *i* deem it important, then i call her back.

it helps a lot with not letting unexpected stress jump out of the shadows.

it’s a little early but i’m going to stop writing here for the night and actually, seriously try to go to bed early. i want to listen to music for a little bit but i really don’t want to be up until after 12 yet again.

oh and also i took out all the trash and finally, after four months, i have figured out how to properly set up the litter box disposal box. it clicked shut so nicely that i was genuinely proud of myself for like two whole seconds.

tomorrow i’ve got a lot of work to do. i need to meet with the drc one last time and i need to get established at the dentist. suzanne said she would help me do like seven quantum problems which would finish catching me up at long last. i’ll have to pack a big lunch.

[breeeliss]

[Femslash February]: Aquarium

how about a short little AU just to shake things up a bit?

Day 12: Aquarium (Alyanette + AU)

Words: 1797

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

[Previous: Style Swap] [Next: Theme Park]

She could see her through the aquarium in her office. 

Apparently, all the interns had to take the desk for a couple of hours everyday, never mind how impressive their portfolios were. Marinette could accept that. Today a designing internship. Tomorrow a scholarship to ESMOD. Day after that, her very own label. She could suck up taking desk calls, staring at spreadsheets, sending emails, and following the heels of her idols for the summer. 

Besides. The view wasn’t half bad.

She checked the directory outside two mornings ago and found out that the office across from theirs was an online magazine. If she peeked around all the Rosy Barbs and Angelfish meandering around the long aquarium tank stretching along the wall right across from Marinette’s desk, she occasionally saw people bustling by with manuscripts and cover proofs. But that wasn’t even the best part. 

By far the most interesting about the office was the beautiful girl who worked the front desk. 

They looked to be about the same age, so Marinette assumed she was also an intern. She spent her days staying at her desk -- probably sending emails and working on projects -- and only leaving to run off to meetings or go to lunch. Marinette honestly didn’t mean to stare, but sometimes there was nothing to do at her desk other than wait for the phone to ring. Her eyes would drift up and see that gorgeous girl, hair piled up charmingly on the top of her head, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose every few minutes, and yawning in front of her computer screen while she multitasked on her cellphone. 

Marinette really wanted to ask her out to lunch, but she could never catch her outside the office. She sometimes meandered around the elevator during her lunch hour in the hopes that the girl would come out at the same time so that she could strike up a conversation, but their schedules never melded. Marinette tried to do the same at the end of the work day, but one of them was always staying late and finishing projects. All she had was her view through the aquarium tank. 

One of the models who worked for the label, Adrien, was about the only person who stopped by her desk everyday to have lunch with her and ask her about her day. It didn’t take him long to pick up on Marinette’s little hobby. He stopped by her desk one morning and poked her in the cheek when he caught her staring through the tank again. “You know, you could just make an excuse to go over there and talk to her.”

Marinette snorted. “And say what? ‘Hi, I’m Marinette, I think you’re cute and I’ve been creepily staring at you for the past two weeks. Wanna get coffee?’”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything,” Marinette complained, slumping in her seat. “Plus, she’s probably dating some dashing reporter or something.”

“Or,” Adrien smirked. “She’s single and will think you’re cute if you just make yourself known.”

Marinette pouted. “I’ve tried to catch her outside the office for weeks. I can’t guess her schedule.”

Adrien shrugged and pointed to the aquarium tank. “You don’t need to. She’s right there during working hours and you two can technically see each other. Use that.”

“What? The aquarium tank?”

Adrien winked and left her the cup of coffee he’d gone to fetch for her. “You’re a creative girl, Marinette. You can figure something out.”

For a couple of days, she was convinced that Adrien was just messing with her and saying things to make her feel better. But one day, when she was making paper cranes out of the post-its on her desk, she stopped, eyed the tape dispenser on the far end of her desk, and got an idea. 

She looked through the fish tank and saw that the girl was still sitting at her desk working. So Marinette took a pen, scribbled a quick message on the post-it note, and grabbed some tape. She rounded her desk and knocked on the glass of the tank, making the fish scatter underneath the plastic castle in the middle of their tank. The girl lifted her gaze from the computer screen and looked around the office before she made eye contact with Marinette through the tank. Marinette merely waved and attached her message. 

Hi! I’m Marinette! :)

Marinette quickly scurried off behind her desk and hid behind her computer monitor. She really didn’t feel like seeing the girl’s reaction to what was admittedly kind of a dorky idea, and she was sure Adrien was going to laugh at her when she told him about this later. But he said to use the tank to her advantage and this was the only thing she could think of. Ooooooh, but this was definitely weird. Who left notes for strangers like that? God, she couldn’t have just come up with something better? Maybe just marginally smoother? Maybe she could do all of her work for the next hour while saying behind the desk and out of sight.

But then, she heard a knock against the fish tank. Marinette poked her head out from behind the computer monitor and saw the girl standing in front of the tank, laughing and taping her own note to the fish tank. Marinette blinked and slowly walked towards the tank while the girl stayed in front of it, waiting for Marinette to read the message. 

Nice to meet you. I’m Alya <3

Marinette beamed at Alya through the tank and felt her stomach get all warm when Alya smiled at her back. Marinette took her note off from the tank, flipped it over, and wrote another message. 

I hope this isn’t weird. I couldn’t figure how else to run into you. 

Alya rolled her eyes fondly, and scribbled another message on the back of her original note. 

Not weird at all. I was hoping I’d get to talk to you eventually. 

Marinette let out a shaky breath and felt herself smiling without meaning to. She backed up towards her desk without taking her eyes off of Alya and grabbed the entire stack of post-its. She looked down the hall and made sure that none of her supervisors were watching her. She scribbled another note and stuck it to the glass. 

You were hoping?

Marinette drummed her nails against the glass, watching the fish cower away from her fingers as she watched Alya bit her lip to try and hold back her smile. The sight made Marinette bounce on her toes and eagerly await her reply. When Alya finally stuck the note to the glass, Marinette felt her heart speed up. 

Of course. You’re really cute ;)

Oh, Adrien was so going to be gloating about this when she told him. 

There were so many excited thoughts going through her head that she couldn’t get them together coherently enough to put them in a note. She could hear her supervisor coming down the hall -- probably to check on her -- so Marinette impulsively wrote her phone number on a post-it, taped it to the tank, and ran back to her desk in time for her supervisor to ask for all the messages that were left on the answering machine. Her skin was buzzing because she was so nervous and sitting on the edge of her seat in so much anticipation. Alya had gone back to her desk, and Marinette couldn’t come up with another excuse to go back to the tank to leave another message. But luckily, she didn’t have to wait long until she got a text message from an unknown number. 

Yes? <3

Marinette’s fingers were shaking, and it took her a couple of tries to get the message out, but she sighed in relief when she finally sent if off. 

Would you want to get coffee at around noon? My treat :)

She quickly saved the contact in her phone and gripped it in both hands as she watched the ellipses blinking on the bottom of her text window. She looked up to see Alya texting at her desk, laughing to herself and smiling into her hand in a way that made the apples of her cheeks pull up sweetly. When she finally finished sending her text, she sent a wink to Marinette through the glass tank and tapped on her cellphone. Marinette looked down at her screen, opened the text, and giggled in delight. 

With a cutie like you? I’d be stupid to say no. 

Marinette covered her face with her hands and screamed silently into them while she bounced in her seat. She peeked out from between her fingers to stare into the other office, but Alya was talking to her boss, probably ready to be whisked off to another meeting. Alya waved at her through the aquarium and sent her a quick text that she was going to be back in about an hour. Marinette sent over a belated wave and almost knocked over her coffee out of enthusiasm, and despite how absolutely clumsy it was, Alya still laughed as she disappeared from the office. 

Marinette puffed her cheeks out and lifted her knees up to her chest. “Aww, crap, I have a date, I have a date, what do you do on dates, oh my god...”

She slid out of her desk chair, snuck into the office, and went towards the back of the office where all of the studios were. Adrien was in the back prepping for his photoshoot set to start in an hour while Marinette snuck around all the cameras, slid next to him getting his makeup done, and pushed her cellphone into his lap. “Sorry. Don’t meant to bother you. I have a development.”

“Wait, what?” Adrien grinned. He picked up her phone and scrolled through the texts. He laughed brightly, ignoring the glare from his makeup artist as she tried to contour his cheekbones. “Please tell me you’re going to give me a play by play when you come back? And invite me to the wedding? And let me be your best man?”

“Stop,” Marinette whined, sticking her tongue out at him playfully. “It’s just one date. It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t know,” Adrien sang. “You are blushing pretty badly right now.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, this is so cute!” Adrien laughed. “You have to take pictures and show me! I told you just talking to her would work. To think that I can sense chemistry through an aquarium tank.”

Marinette smirked. “If I give you credit for this, will you help me figure out what I’m supposed to say and do during this date?”

Adrien scoffed and patted her on the shoulder. “You don’t even have to ask.”

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

The Audacity of a Dope

(How we avoid another Trump)

By Stephen Jay Morris

©Scientific Morality

  The current Trump obsession will fade into “business as usual” mode.  America is a nation of fads and amnesia.  Before long, your life will be like an episode of Dr. Phil.  You’ll have a fight with a member of your family and you will complain about your health.  Otherwise, it will be the same old shit.  

So the question on the table is:  How did we elect a total head case as president?  I’ll tell you, my friend or, enemy, as it were:  It was by way of a Constitutional technicality.  We do not have a plebiscite when it comes to electing a president; no, we have the Electoral College.  The Office of President is the only political office in the Federal government for which we do this.  I have gone over this previously, so onward to my main point.

Whenever you listen to right wing propaganda, you think our educational system is bad because of the Teachers union.  Yeah, right!  Just like blaming crime on the Police unions!  This Conservative talking point and tall-tale telling sucks the poop out of my colon!  “Civil Servants are lazy and over paid parasites of the taxpayer!”  I dare you or anybody else to apply for a job with the government, be it local, state, or federal.  Come on, big mouth--try it!

Let’s say you want to be a White House gardener.  Do you think that all you have to do is be a minority, fill out an application, complete a quick interview and, then, waltz right in until, before you know it, you are mowing the White House lawn?  Ha! Ha!  Doesn’t work like that, dude!  

Thanks to austere government regulations for “getting on the taxpayers’ payroll,” you have to go through a very lengthy, time-consuming, and complex process.  Number one, there must be an open recruitment by the Federal Government for a gardener.  In the event there is, you must complete a long-ass application, including an official, multi-page form, along with your submittals of letters of recommendation, proof of education completed, identification, and other relevant credentials.  Once all is submitted, you must await notice that your application has been accepted.  The personnel department then completes an in-depth background check on you, which can take several weeks.  Stuff like employment history, credit history, and criminal records, to name a few, are carefully and fully scrutinized.  In the event your background passes muster, then you must pass a written test for the specific level of gardener being sought.  I have taken this test and, believe me, it is a college level exam. This test is administered in some college classroom, hopefully located in or near your town.  Typically, about 25,000 have applied for that coveted Civil Servant job.  That is the number of people you are competing against, at one time, for that very job.   You sit in a room of about 100 to 200 people, all taking the same test.  You then leave and wait for the results of your test.  You must answer correctly at least 86% of the questions to pass.  If and when you do pass, your name is placed on an eligibility list, which means, you remain eligible, for up to a year, to proceed further in the recruitment process. Depending upon your scored percentage, you are included among those who scored similar or better.  There are a several score levels among which those who passed are categorized.  The folks who scored 100% will, of course, be among the first interviewed.  Tired yet?  We’re just getting started!  

Now, if divine providence prevails and you are selected, you are invited to participate in what’s called a “panel interview” with several Federal employee representatives, including but not limited to those from the Personnel Department and the Gardening division managers and/or supervisors.  As many as eight people will decide whether or not you are qualified to work in the department.  If you pass this step, it is then on to the “Physical Test,” which is an exam given to ascertain your real-time, hands-on, gardening expertise.  It requires that you show up at a designated landscaping site where a proctor will observe and grade you on your gardening abilities.  You are asked to perform various gardening tasks; mowing the lawn, for example.  Along with your demonstration, you must also explain to the proctor how a lawn mower works and what safety precautions are required while performing the task. It’s similar to a driving test. The proctor will record your performance on his/her clipboard and grade you.

With the grace of God, if you pass the Physical test, the final exam phase comes:  a Medical examination and, in rare cases, a psychiatric evaluation.  Once you pass that phase, you are given a start date. But, there is one last hurdle you must overcome:  the probation period.  In some cases it is six months, and as long as one year in others.  Your supervisors evaluate your performance every two weeks throughout the probationary period and can fire you at will, at any time.

Once you pass probation, do not assume that you’ll be protected by so-called “Civil Servant protection.”  That is a conservative myth.  Whether or not you are a union member whose passed probation, if the government agency wants to get rid of you, they will!  I know from experience.

You must go through all of this stuff to get a Civil Servant job.

What about elected office?  As far as that goes…all you need to do is to meet a minimum age requirement and obtain ballot status.  You can pay a staff to collect the required signatures for the ballot; but there are No background checks!  No tests!  Not even a basic Civics test!  You can have an I.Q of a 12 year old and run for office!  All you need is money—lots of it—to campaign!

Anybody with plenty of money can be president.

In my opinion, a candidate for president should be required to pass a drug test and a psychiatric evaluation before getting on the ballot.  They should also pass an American history test and a written test on the U.S. Constitution.  In order to qualify to run for president, the candidate should undergo and pass a panel interview by an election commission, and a criminal background check.

A voter is not required to pass a Civics Test because they not on salary for a government office, they are voting pursuant to Constitutional mandate.  Only the voter’s signature suffices as sufficient I.D.  The Constitution does not mention how a candidate may be bestowed the privilege of running for the office of Commander in Chief.  The only requirements are that he/she be a natural born citizen who has attained a specific age.

As it is now structured, the only safeguard we have in this Democratic Republic is the press.  They have or used to have, investigative reporters who are entrusted to “get the goods” on a candidate. Otherwise, all prospective candidates can be anyone—from a child molester to a drug addict—it doesn’t matter.

We all know, with the exception of the Conservative enablers and the 1%, that Trump is not qualified to be president.  Giving him the nuclear codes is the immoral equivalent of giving a child afflicted with A.D.H.D a loaded gun.  In Trump, we have the most unqualified president in the history of this Republic.  This could have been prevented if we’d had safeguards in the qualification rules. Good luck with the impeachment procedures.            

 May God help us.

  https://careers.state.gov/work/civil-service/selection-process

[rolluptheclouds]

A complainey post - Calling 111

I'm often insecure about writing complainey posts. Something something am I just privileged or an entitled something something. And when it comes to TelBru complaints - you've probably heard them all before. In this post, I complain about TelBru Customer Care and try to offer constructive (albeit annoyed) comments. It's a drop in the bucket, and I feel bad about complaining, etc etc - but in the end, the idealist in me wins out. Last week I praised TelBru Customer Care call agents:

Called TelBru care hotline 3x this week. Call agents were actually pretty courteous, first one particularly was v polite and professional.

— hazirah (@possiblyzebra) September 20, 2017

A week later, I have called them about 5 times in total. My issue remains unresolved. The product is TelBru WiFi Prepaid. I have lost $3 from my wallet, 30 mins of phone calls to TelBru Customer Care, 3 days of internet and productivity.

TelBru WiFi Prepaid:

The package issues you a PIN code, which you can only use on one device.

Then, as long as you are within the valid period, you don't need to re-enter the PIN code whenever you connect to this hotspot.

The codes are effectively one-use.

You can buy a code with your credit card when you connect to a hotspot. Pretty handy.

You can buy prepaid cards at some shops, which I thought was cool?

I'm a regular user, probably buying a package every 1-2 weeks.

The day I called TelBru, I had used a new PIN code for about 15 minutes before the hotspot disconnected me (rarely happens). I reconnected, and for some reason was asked to re-enter the PIN code (rarely happens). I did so, and... my PIN code was denied. Something went wrong, right?

Three dollars had been the price, but the value was in the work I was going to do, and the convenience of good wi-fi. (A lot of places promoting their free internet have terrible wi-fi!) I had made plans around these next three days. So I called the hotline at 111.

* O B S E R V A T I O N S *

✖️ Very annoying bits:

There seemed to be some genuine confusion about the product name. "TelBru WiFi" is literally the name of their wi-fi hotspots. Yet the call agents kept thinking I was talking about home broadband. The first call was the longest, as a long back-and-forth ensued while the guy tried to understand my problem. (He was also pretty professional, dealing with my frustration accordingly. Kudos.)

Please fucking update me. 48 hours after my first call, no updates; no email or SMS; nothing. My PIN code would expire after 3 days. I paid for internet, I kinda want it now, please give me my internet.

On the third call, I had talked to 4 people and explained my problem 3 times. Was this info not in the ticket? Did they not make a note every time I called? Was I getting different departments each time? Despite how small Brunei is and how everyone loves repeating this fact, I never seemed to get the same call agent twice? And back to that first point: WTF does TelBru call this product internally?

✖️ Minor annoying bits:

TelBru Customer Care use the Most. Annoying. Holds. Ever. They play loud repetitive ads, only occasionally interspersed with clips of instrumental music. How many times did I hear that lady in the ad saying, "Yes, for free", for whatever it is they're so willing to give away, while they can't give me $3 worth of internet.

Their 111 call system is confusing. "Press one for product, installation and follow-up, press two to report a problem and follow-up" then suddenly silence. Some call systems will repeat this after a pause, or offer the caller to go back to previous menu.

* S O , Y E A H *

I know, I know. It's still not that bad. In Brunei; it's a given you can't always depend on internet connection; backup venues or backup sources of internet are not uncommon. But I was stubborn. I couldn't just shrug and buy a new package. I kept calling TelBru. I didn't want to feel screwed over.

I honestly can't see why they couldn't just give me a new PIN code for free, while in the meantime they could've sorted what went wrong with my earlier code. I suggested this to almost all the call agents, and most of them said it would be brought up with their supervisors. One earnestly told me (and I believed her briefly) that she's sure they'll automatically extend my PIN code expiry date after they fix the problem.

Also, having explained the problem multiple times, it seemed that the call agents were unfamiliar with it. Makes me think the problem was uncommon. In this situation, I can understand if it takes a while to investigate. EXCEPT...

I never got a feeling it was being investigated. I only got two calls, usually only for clarification right after a previous call. I didn't get any updates, despite what the call agents promised me. They kept telling me, "Masih menunggu feedback dari [insert name of scapegoat] department".

If it's a technical problem with the product that might need reconfiguration (idk) or something - then that's FINE. I get that, I work in ICT. How about you pass this on for longer-term technical resolution, compensate me, and then you can close the ticket and we can both pretend something good came out of this.

Again: How simple is it to just give me a BRAND NEW code (tiga ringgit jua saja bro, see I can turn that back onto the company). Or idk, give me something worth three dollars. I'd still be snarky, but maybe a little happy.

I still stand by my appreciation for the courtesy of the call agents. Soft skills, people skills, whatever they are - they help me, the customer, feel a little bit like I'm being listened to, a little bit mollified by the situation. I know that the call agents are real people behind the phone, who are just doing their jobs and may not have much influence in improving the system. (It still doesn't mean that they couldn't go a little extra, but that's a different discussion.)

So, again, I know it's a small problem. I appreciate that there are TelBru customers out there waiting for resolutions to even bigger and more costly problems. I appreciate that, maybe, the very reason TelBru can't prioritise my issue is because I'm just some schmuck who actually paid for their public hotspots; I'm not an actual TelBru account holder, nor a company yelling about their office internet getting cut off. My humble little $3 issue will just sit here, in case any other TelBru WiFi customers faces the same thing, and maybe then we can cry together.