#poison pill defence

[avonne-writes]

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

#21 for Gale? Pretty please? 🥹🙏🏻

Again, sorry that I took so long! I'm trying to fill all the pending prompts in my inbox now. Thank you for sending this one! 🩷 I wrote a quick drabble tonight, I hope it's okay.

21. Fear poison/gas

A fist swings towards Crank's face, but it ends up colliding with the arm he raises in defence. Buck groans in pain as Hambone and Jefferson jump in to intervene and tackle him to the floor of their crowded room in the stalag. The three of them start wrestling on the floor accompanied by curses, grunts and Buck's panicked wheezing.

"What the fuck did they give him?" Hambone yells as one of the chairs is knocked over by Buck's legs kicking out.

"No idea." Crank replies, deep lines on his forehead. He throws himself down to trap Buck's shins and keep him from breaking someone's ribs with his feet. "Buck, calm down! It's just us!"

"Let me go!" Buck cries out. His pupils are blown wide, and his gaze darts around the room like a trapped, feral animal's. Cold sweat peppers his sallow, sickly face.

The Krauts took him away this morning and only just brought him back a few minutes ago. No explanation, nothing. They just dumped him on one of the beds unconscious, then left without a word. Brady ran out to get Bucky, but in the meantime, Gale woke up, and the first thing he did was attack anyone who touched him. They're all going to sport bruises tomorrow, no doubt. The familiarity of their voices doesn't seem to register in his mind, and the wide-eyed terror on his face suggests he doesn’t recognize their faces either.

Even with three men holding him down, Buck doesn’t stop trashing to get free, but the noises he’s making take an increasingly desperate edge. Crank doesn’t know how to help him when he's in this state of mind. You can’t reason with him.

Thankfully, the door swings open, and Bucky rushes inside, kicking the toppled over chair out of the way to get to Buck's side.

"Gale!" Bucky drops to his knees and cradles Buck's face with his large hands. Crank raises an eyebrow at the name, but he doesn’t say anything. "What happened? What did they do to him?"

Fear-stricken blue eyes go abnormally wide before Buck redoubles his efforts to escape their hold. More footsteps approach from the doorway, Brady and one of the camp surgeons. The sight eases the tight worry in Crank's chest just enough that he can breathe again. Bucky nudges Hambone aside to take over holding Buck's right arm himself and to give the doc space to examine Buck.

The man takes a good look at Buck's pupils, then measures his pulse at the juncture of his neck before reaching into his coat for a small box of pills. Despite Buck's ferocious protests, the four of them somehow manage to hold him still enough for the doc to pry open his jaw and force him to swallow a pill. Immediately after, tears start falling from Buck's eyes.

Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t seem to have the same struggle. As the fight goes out of Buck's body, his limbs go limp in their hold. Bucky moves Buck's arm from the floor to press it to his chest and reaches for Buck's face again. Gently, he starts wiping the wetness there even as more continues to fall. The tears glisten on Buck's freckled cheek.

It's a shock. Crank has never seen Buck Cleven cry. Through the loss of friends, through pain, cold and hunger, even on the bleakest days they’ve had as POWs so far, Buck's composure hardly ever wavered. He remained the pillar of their strength and hope through everything. It makes Crank feel guilty and selfish, but his first feeling upon seeing the fat teardrops rolling down Buck's scarred cheeks is despair, not compassion. His natural instinct of self-preservation makes it difficult for a moment to see past the crumbling Major and see the person instead. Because if the Krauts can break Buck Cleven like this, they can break anyone. They're all puppets to their cruel whim. Crank doesn’t know what to do anymore.

"Fear gas." The doc says, making a disgusted face. "Bastards are testing it on us. My guess is they picked him for his reputation."

The doc clears his throat awkwardly and moves to stand. "Gave him a sedative. We don’t have much left, but... We need the Major back on his feet, I figure."

That makes Crank feel even worse. He watches numbly as Buck opens his eyes again and blinks up at Bucky slowly. The stream of his tears starts drying out. When Bucky gives him a small, forced smile of reassurance, Buck turns his face into Bucky’s palm. As if it was the only safe spot in his world. Crank averts his eyes, and he sees Hambone and Brady do the same.

None of them wants to see. They've never asked. They don’t want to know.

Only Jefferson stares, likely not used to it yet, still trying to figure it out.

After a reassuring squeeze, Bucky lays Buck's arm back on the floor and stands up to offer his hand for the doc to shake. The doc starts talking about side effects he has seen in other men who received this so-called fear gas, but after a moment, Crank turns away from them and back to Buck again.

"Give me a hand, boys." He glances at Brady and Hambone. "We gotta move him."

No one talks. They all feel Bucky's helpless fury, but there’s nothing they can do. Crank rights the chair, sits on it and starts sanding the small wooden B-17 he’s been working on. He keeps his focus on his work and tries not to listen in when Bucky starts whispering to Buck. He knows it's not for his ears.

Together, they lift Buck's barely conscious body and put him on a bed. It doesn't matter whose. They can switch for one night. Buck doesn’t fight it anymore, dazed by the sedative. When the doc leaves, Bucky's back by his side in an instant. He sits on the edge of the bunk and puts a hand on Buck's chest to feel it rise and fall. His other hand curls into a fist on his thigh. Buck watches him with half-lidded eyes.

Tomorrow, he hopes Buck will be back on his feet. Then, they can go back to pretending that everything will be okay.

[salvationofsouls]

HAIL HYDRA.

The phrase laid on the tip of his tongue like a twisted prayer, a forgotten nightmare. In his sleep, it was worse. He was accustomed to waking up in twisted sheets, flickers of a time he couldn’t quite remember playing underneath closed lids. He’d often come to, staring at the ceiling of the abandoned building where he’d sought solace, gasping for air. When he was conscious, the pain would start. A throb in his temples, which travelled down. ( He hadn’t stuck around to find out the lasting damage, but he knew the scarring ran deeper than the surface. Even now, there was no escaping the sheer discomfort of torn muscle. )  He doubted he’d ever walk properly again, left with a permanent limp which you’d think put him at a disadvantage. Yet on the contrary, he’d learned to manipulate people, providing a false sense of security. They thought he was weak, feeble - the easy target. He allowed them to lower their defences and then struck. He’d been surviving like that at the skin of his teeth whenever he was unlucky enough to be outnumbered. 

No one looked twice at the broken man. No one thought he was capable of inflicting such brutal anarchy. It was funny really, wasn’t it? 

Rumlow perhaps would’ve… But oh how his name left a bitter taste in his mouth, and that was another kind of ache. Before STRIKE, he’d never believed he was capable of such sentiment. He’d been dragged up, kicking and screaming in the hell hole he’d been forced to come home, always having to fend for himself, since no other fucker would guide him. He’d learned to steal from a young age, and even then he’d known how to pull the wool over another's eyes. ( He'd been a scrawny little runt, fast enough to flee before anyone suspected too much. No one could say he couldn’t improvise, or put on a performance, he’d done it his entire life. He just hadn’t expected to take one step forward and ten back. ) He’d naively assumed he was done with this shit. That he’d been on a destination to the straight and narrow. He’d never stopped to think about how corrupt HYDRA was. They’d been his salvation, even laced in poison. Yet now, he had no choice, he had to start from scratch. The one who had recruited him in the bloody first place had gone, hadn’t he?

Brock had perished, burned to a bloody crisp no doubt, and he’d been left to do the only damn thing he was good for. Revenge was bittersweet; a basic human instinct. HYDRA had left them both to rot, they’d proved their loyalty, and their reward had been to be disowned like badly behaved boys. He’d always believed that no matter how far off the deep end they went, they’d have each other. He’d had Rumlow’s six since he’d risen through the ranks in STRIKE. ( Who was he now without him? A rogue living half a life? He’d lost his partner in crime, his blood brother - his -- ) No, he couldn’t think like that. Couldn’t remember that. Fingers snatched up the Balisong, twisting it between his fingers to distract himself, counting as he’d disciplined himself to do, a coping mechanism that had to be healthier than stabbing some poor bastard every time the rage consumed him. He’d need to do a supply run soon; his liquor was running empty, and his food was scarce. 

He’d been popping pills to get by. Vicodin mostly, but they came with their own complications. Like everything else, there was a price to pay. He either sucked it up or he gave up completely, and the latter wasn’t in his nature. Besides, HYDRA deserved to be hit heavily. Sure he might not be able to destroy them all, but he’d damn well try, and it was that notion that motivated him to finally move, throwing stuff into his kit. ( He’d always travelled light, preferring to rely on his fists and wit but a few guns were added to his arsenal, and then he was ready to follow what he presumed would be another loose end. ) Ah well, there was no way of knowing without investigating was there? Giving one last look around the dreary apartment, he hot-wired the car in the garage, the stolen plates providing enough of a cover, and forced his shitty leg to behave, before slipping out into the world.

The drive there wasn’t anything to hark about, pretty uneventful just the way he liked it, and the car was discarded several miles away, reluctantly deciding to go the rest of the way on foot. He couldn’t be too careful; they could have eyes and ears everywhere. Call it paranoia, but he wasn’t about to take any chances and he only proceeded down the hill once he was sure he hadn’t been followed. ( Naturally, he stuck out like a sore thumb; stealth came with difficulty when you had to hop about like a rabbit. Yet he made it down towards the crumbling structure and eyed the remnants of the roof with careful consideration. ) Damn it, it looked like one wrong move, would bring the entire place down. Now that he was there though, he had to risk it for a biscuit, eh? Scoffing at the sheer irony of escaping one collapse, only to meet his fucking end in another, he proceeded. 

Soon enough boots crunched under debris, his Glock 19 tracing the walls of the dilapidated confines of what was once one of HYDRA’S vast empires. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. What would they think of all their work going up in flames? Would they care? Or would they not bat an eyelid? He wasn’t sure. He had thought he had known them, and what a lie that had been. So much for loyalty. It had got him nowhere. Just knee-deep in rubble, kicking stone with a leg that was about as useless as a chocolate fireguard. ( Though in time, he made it through, scouring the area. It was a good job too, he was thankful for his instincts. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, giving him the heebbie-jeebies, and ah yes - what the fuck was that? ) He wasn’t alone… there was - for a horrifying moment, he felt sick. He was sure it was but no - couldn’t be. Nevertheless, his weapon trained on the shadow, breath hitching as he became convinced he was seeing things. Man, he needed his medication - now. This wasn’t healthy. One shouldn’t chase ghosts. But then the words came out gravelled from his own lips; trigger steady.

‘Oi, arsehole. Don’t you fuckin’ move.’

[wetbloodhotsweat]

Eat Me

He cooks for you that night, it is but one of his many talents. From your perch you hear the chopping of the knife, efficient and rhythmic. You hear the sizzling of the pan, the bubbling liquids, the swish of eggs being beaten out of shape. What you do not hear, or see, is the little green pill being put into your food. It sits undisturbed in the centre of your neatly measured portion, masquerading as just another bit of something what was once a vegetable. You are aware of it, always, but never when. It could happen on any day of the week, but it is always a surprise. You eat with glee, talking as if it’s just another night. You don’t understand until a little later, when you feel the heat start to spread out into your dainty limbs. A little stone at the bottom of your stomach is dissolving, releasing strange and wondrous things into your bloodstream. You lie in his lap as it happens, looking up into his dark eyes, dazed and confused. Grateful, you think, but it’s not just gratitude making your heart beat faster. As he looks down his hair frames his face in a way that makes him seem absolute, complete. You love being in his lap.

There is a sort of elongation of the space around you, a soft blurring of life itself as the colours become both starker and softer. You know what it is now, you know what comes next. You feel every pore of his skin against yours as he carries you to bed. You feel the texture of every piece of clothing as he removes them from your body one by one. Next to the bed someone has lit a candle. It is a beautiful thing, flickering and bright against the dark room, just like you. The magnificent poison in your veins heightens your senses. It makes every moment feel both instant and forever. It will come at a price, but you could not begin to consider that even if you wanted to. There is nothing else tonight, nothing else but him. Using you, filling you, transforming you through the purpose you were made for. The sheets are soft and perfect. His breath is mystical. His touch is divine. To call you a woman would be an insult, you are something so much greater in his grasp. You have never loved someone as much you love him now, in this waking eternity. You say the words, over and over again, they spill across your lips into a forest of mangled sounds. It is the pleasure of total oblivion, is this what it feels like to be destroyed? Once again, destroyed and remade. All for him. He uses you, you want him to. The scent of sweat is like ambrosia on your tongue. It will not last – it cannot last – but you will feel as if every part of you has been wrung dry before it is over. You have no idea if it takes an hour or ten, it makes no difference. You would lie here forever if it made him happy, if it gave you purpose as it does now. You experience a brief moment of clarity with your face pressed into the sheets. He is taking you from behind, ramming you over and over while holding you by the hips. You experience nirvana as his essence explodes into you and your defences crumble into dust, perhaps forever. You will never be able to say no to this man, ever again. No matter what he asks, no matter when. You grip the sheets tight as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. The heightened tactility of everything merely adds another dimension to your bliss. He kisses your neck as he lies down besides you, wraps himself in you, wraps you both in the warm sheets. You spend several moments doting on him, completely incapable of responding as he whispers sweet nothings into your soul. They will stay there forever, which he knows. He knows so very well. At some point you drift away into infinity, the world becomes dark as you fall asleep in his arms.

Tomorrow you will wake up and everything will be awful. All the borrowed colour will have faded out of the world and you will be left with almost nothing. You will find it hard to talk, hard to move. Your thoughts will be evil and your mood will be worse. He will hold you, and make you coffee, and dote on you like a good owner should. He will also fuck you again, at least once, as you lie completely still and drained on the bed. It is a different experience, you will forgive him for this. You belong to him, after all, nothing but a toy to be consumed. A day or two later your levels will normalize. Your view of the world will correct itself, except for the parts he has chosen to change. You will be even more his than you were before. He does this by degrees, aware, precise. Exactly like another of his projects. He loves you, you think, even if it’s a different kind of love, one you can’t explain to your parents or your friends. You have never met anyone like him and you never will again because he never intends to let you go. Such are the rules. The beautiful, unwritten rules that bind you together and define your love. You are his prey and his partner. You feed off of his love and he feeds off of you in turn. It is almost symbiotic, though he will probably always take more than you can give. That’s okay. You want to be destroyed, you crave to be consumed. And it is so much better than being alone. You will never, ever, be alone again.

[razorblogz]

US Woman Accused Of Killing Husband Googled 'Luxury Prisons For Rich'

She searched the internet for information about Utah's penitentiaries, as well as "luxury prisons for the rich in America."

US woman Kouri Richins who allegedly killed her husband and wrote a children's book about grief had googled extensively about 'luxury prisons for the rich' and how long it takes life insurance companies to pay.

According to KTVX, the 33-year-old mother of three is accused of poisoning her husband, Eric Richins, with a lethal dose of fentanyl in March 2022, and had a Google history that included disturbing searches.

She searched the internet for information about Utah's penitentiaries, as well as "luxury prisons for the rich in America," the news outlet reported.

She also searched the web whether investigators can see deleted messages, how long life insurance companies take to pay claimants, whether police can force you to take a lie detector test and if the cause of death can be changed on a death certificate, the report said.

Details of her Google searches emerged during her appearance at a detention hearing on Monday where the judge called a "substantial danger" to society and ordered her to remain behind bars.

The media outlet also reported that the suspect also viewed an article titled "Signs of Being Under Federal Investigation," and another headlined "Delay in Claim Payment for Death Certificate with Pending Cause of Death."

Her other searches included the queries "Is naloxone similar to heroin," "What is considered the non-natural manner of death" and "Kouri Richins Kamas net worth," KTVX added.

However, her defence attorney Clayton Simms says she was simply researching her case to see how evidence is processed, adding "There's nothing there that indicates guilt", BBC reported.

According to CNN, Eric Richins' sister, Amy Richins, also made a victim impact statement at the hearing, saying: "Eric died under horrendous circumstances. I am tormented at the thought of what he endured."

"I play it out in my head, I go through the terrible sequence of events. I wonder when he realized he was in mortal danger. I wonder what Kouri may have said to him in his last moments," she continued. "We have watched as Kouri has paraded around portraying herself as a grieving widow and victim while trying to profit from the death of my brother."

In March 2022, Ms Richins called the police late one night and said her husband, Eric Richins, was "cold to the touch", a BBC report said.

She told the officials that she had made her husband a mixed vodka drink before finding him unresponsive hours later. A medical examiner later found Mr Richins died from a fentanyl overdose.

The medical examiner said that Mr Richins had five times the lethal dosage of the drug in his system.

According to court documents, between December 2021 and February 2022, Mr Richins had texted a person who was arrested on drug charges asking for prescription pain medication for an investor with a back injury.

The court documents further revealed that Ms Richins got hydrocodone pills and she later requested something stronger.

After three days, Ms Richins obtained the drugs and the couple had a Valentine's Day dinner, after which he fell sick.

After two weeks, Ms Richins obtained more fentanyl.

[dongfangxunfeng]

hi xin!! im not sure what youre up to in succession but what do you think so far? like do you have any characters or themes or anything thats really intriguing to you/that you think has been explored really well etc? i think theres sooooo much there but i get a bit too 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 to really articulate it well BUT i love hearing what other people are thinking abt it. mwah hope youve been well too 💜

HI VAL <333333 I LOVE SUCCESSY!!!! so im on the s2 finale (havent watched it yet but thats the today plan) and i have many. vibe related feelings not super coherent but yeah :)

first off its just soooo embarry that i understand wtf theyre about all the time <- businessmajorisms 😭 its genuinely so embarrassing when theyre saying shit like 'we need a poison pill white knight defence' and i know exactly what theyre referring to

my real 1st thought is that u def need to like. care about what they're parodying bc otherwise (1) to me its not as interesting if not, bc otherwise ur just glazing thru a lot of important context - probably why among other reasons i couldnt get into it the first time around when i watched like 2 eps (2) just based on brief observations it can make you a lil weirdinsane abt the characters when you treat them like. a regular guy from your shows (hence shit like tomgreg 😭😭😭)

the familial abuse dynamics. insane btw. logan @ his family vs logan what he presents to the world/people he wants things from vs logan what he presents to his employees..........and then you can see connor&willa and go ah yes . different flavour of abuse . insanity

UNRELATED BUT. tom & greg's voices are kind of in my head now i had an argument w myself this morning but in their voices and then i was like oops ive been watching too much

speaking of watching too much so /i/ am also a businessguy(ish. its complicated) who is . at this point running a newspaper (ish. we havent rlly started but ive been doing so much interviewing i am actually writing this in a break btwn them) so im like. omg what if im commiting mediacorporate crime and its like no. youve just been watching succession

ANYWAY CHARACTERS. shiv fascinates me. like yes her family esp logan doesnt really respect her opinions but also she is sooooo slimy. smth abt how ur sympathies for her get played with incessantly < shiv enjoyer

i hate tom sm but i cant hate hate him....actually i think that describes most of the characters. lol

the way theres so much dead air in this show is like. gweoifjiewjfoiwjefiw the awkwardness of it all. really adds to it

I WILL BE BACK I NEED TO FINISH MY INTERVIEWSSTAYTUNED

[trordiscord]

TRoR’s 31 Days of December - Hosted by The Room of Requirement Discord Server

Below is a Masterlist of all the pieces made for this event! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. Every new event is even better than the last and it’s thanks to you all!

Cloudy - by Divida 

Trapped alone in a prison on an island, there are many things Tom forgets. But he never forgets Harry.

[ART] The Swan Song of an Immortal - by apodis

There are many monsters in the Black Lake. Among them is a siren that sings every night—it sings a lovely, beautiful tune, one that appeals to people’s deepest, darkest desires. Students are warned to not be attracted to it.

Harry is the only one who does not hear a wordless song. He hears screams, hisses, laughter. He hears wrathful, cruel words—promises of ruin, revenge.

Since he can actually hear past the beautiful lie of a song, Harry is the only one who has no excuse for falling for the monster.

a tremendous change - by caxandra

Contrary to popular opinion, Tom’s capacity for emotion was tremendous. Growing up, it was only rivaled by his tremendous self-control.

Or, how Tom Riddle methodically smothers each and every one of his emotions.

No prior knowledge of the series necessary

Ephemerality - by doshu

Lord Voldemort has felt it since Quirrell turned to dust. He has ignored it for years. But it never ignores him.

It begins as a caress.

Shuttered Windows - by doshu

Harry’s an art student, and he falls in love with Tom’s work.

Tom is a photographer, and in Harry he finds a perfect model.

Tomarry Christmas Prompts 2021 - by AudiaLucus and��suzunikouru

Tomarry Room of Requirement Christmas Prompts Collection. Light reads. Written for Fun.

Co-written with AudiaLucus!

The Bitter Pill - by seol_xiv

"Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” — Malachy McCourt

Harry had somehow ended up thrown back into the past — during what should have been his second year at Hogwarts.

The only problem was, he’s in the completely wrong body!

(OR, Harry struggles to create a happier ending for everyone. All while adjusting to his new body and dealing with Voldemort, Tom Riddle, Dumbledore, a Golden Trio that can’t help but find trouble, and what could potentially be the Pureblooded versions of the Dursleys).

When we all fall down - by LouveClaviere

What do you do, when it all falls down?

Because to capture did not always mean to take something by force. It was, first and foremost, to gain control – and sometimes, that could be given willingly.

Bolide - by doshu

noun | /ˈbōlīd,ˈbōləd/

Astronomy: The brightest of meteors, a fireball brighter than the full moon. Geology: A very large impactor.

On October 31, 1981, a tiny piece of soul attaches himself to Harry Potter in order to survive.

This is his story.

For Auld Lang Syne - by doshu

When he finds himself disarmed and held at wandpoint in the middle of a snowstorm, Tom’s first thought is that he is an embarrassment to Defence professors the world over.

His second thought is something along the lines of, “Oh no, not again.”

Not Real - by StrangeHarbor

Tom wonders if he's even capable of love.

The Master and His Ghost - by karameiwaku

Seven years after the final battle, Harry waits on the battlefield as the Dark Lord comes back one more time.

ROR 31 Days of December Word Prompt: Wind

[ibijau]

How to Woo a Lan pt1 / On AO3

Jin Ling is determined to court Lan Sizhui, but can't seem to say two words to him without insulting him. He decides that what he needs is the help of someone who has already successfully seduced a Lan, and he knows something about Nie Huaisang that others don't.

It had been, to put it mildly, a bit of a wild year. Jin Ling had gone from being treated as a child by everyone who met him and being barely mature enough to be trusted alone on a Night Hunt, to having to behave like a full grown adult because he suddenly was the leader of a cut-throat sect that was half falling apart after the early death of its corrupt former leader.

Fifteen was never an easy age, but Jin Ling was pretty sure he had it a little rougher than most people.

Of course, it could have been worse. For one thing, he could have been dead. In fact, he had come pretty close to it a few times, most memorably when he was kidnapped and trapped in the Burial Mounds with other juniors, and when his beloved uncle Jin Guangyao had used him as a hostage and threatened to cut his throat open with a guqin string if he wasn’t allowed to run away after it was revealed he had murdered a number of people, like Jin Ling’s grandfather, and indirectly caused the death of others, like Jin Ling’s father. And then after that there had been a handful of other attempts on Jin Ling’s life once he had become sect leader, because he had older relatives who thought they’d be better at the job, or who other people thought would be easier to corrupt… but really, those attempts just hadn’t been very impressive.

Jin Ling had been raised by Jin Guangyao, so he knew a thing or two about avoiding poison. And he’d been raised by Jiang Cheng as well, so even at his age, there weren’t that many adults who could pose a threat to his life, should they directly attack him.

All in all, the murder attempts hadn’t been so bad. The paperwork and meetings, on the other hand, were the worst thing ever. There were so, so many letters to read, and to analyse, and to answer. And then there were Night Hunt reports. Tracking the progress of junior disciples. Bills. An astonishing number of bills, oftentime for things Jin Ling didn’t even understand, so he had to ask during meetings what the sect was spending money on this time. There was a forty percent chance that it was something frivolous he could cut off, and a fifty percent chance that it was just barely concealed corruption, but since there was the ten percent possibility of that bill being something actually useful, Jin Ling still had to investigate every single one, just in case.

With all this going on, Jin Ling was lucky when he could find an hour here and there to meditate, or work on his cultivation, or train Fairy. He had considered skipping sleep from time to time, but Jiang Cheng had heard about it, somehow, and rushed to Jinlin Tai to scream at him about being irresponsible with his health, as if he were any better. Everyone knew Sandu Shengshou ran on two hours of sleep, medical pills, and rage… but apparently Jin Ling wasn’t alone to do the same. Unfair.

Equally unfair was the fact that in the six months between Jin Guangyao’s death and Jin Ling’s fifteenth’s birthday, he had only gone on two night hunts.

The first was… not so bad. Jin Ling had been forced to have some other Jin disciples come along, which was boring, but then they’d all met up with some Lan and with Ouyang Zizhen, which had been pretty nice. Not quite as nice as it could have been if a certain person had been there, but not quite bad either, because Jin Ling had been able to chat with Ouyang Zizhen who was smarter than he looked, and to argue with Lan Jingyi who was fun to have a shouting match with.

And then, there had been that second Night Hunt. Jin Ling, still dealing with the aftermath of a slightly more efficient assassination attempt after which part of Jinlin Tai had really thought him dead for a good shichen and a half, had stumbled upon a man who had come to beg for the help of his sect and decided he’d help with that. He needed a break from his murderous cousins anyway.

So instead, he called the worst asshole he knew to help him deal with this, for fun.

And Lan Jingyi, for some reason known only to him, decided to let Wei Wuxian come as well.

That was the first problem, Jin Ling later decided. If Wei Wuxian hadn’t been there, things would have gone better. But he just didn’t really know where he stood with the man who had, technically, caused both of his parents to die and whom Jin Ling had, technically, tried to murder in return. The man who had also saved his life several times, without any hesitation.

Lan Jingyi knew that Jin Ling had mixed feelings about Wei Wuxian, who he hadn’t seen since the death of Jin Guangyao. So he had to have asked him to come along on purpose, because Lan Jingyi was a damn asshole and Jin Ling hated his guts, for all that he was probably his best friend at this point.

It wasn’t hard to be the best of something when you were almost the only one.

Anyway, Jin Ling should have guessed that Wei Wuxian would get involved in this, so it wasn’t such a surprise.

But then…

Then, when he arrived at the agreed meeting point, Jin Ling saw Lan Sizhui.

It had been six months, almost. In all that time, Jin Ling hadn’t once gotten any news from the older boy. He’d asked Lan Jingyi during that one Night Hunt, and then again when Lan Jingyi had needed to crash in Jinlin Tai some weeks later, in vain. All Lan Jingyi knew was that Lan Sizhui had gone away with Lan Wangji’s blessing, and that nobody could tell when he’d be back… or if he’d come back at all for that matter, which Jin Ling had found rather ominous. Sure, Lan Sizhui’s father figure had officially married another man, and not the best of men at that, but was it reason enough to run away? Did Lan Sizhui hate Wei Wuxian in particular, or did he have a problem with all cut sleeves? In the first case, it was understandable. In the second case, Jin Ling’s heart would be crushed forever and he would never know happiness again.

But Lan Sizhui was there, and standing next to Wei Wuxian when Jin Ling arrived, chatting with a peaceful yet happy expression and looking quite animated, at least by Lan standards. Jin Ling had the sensation that the two of them hadn’t met in a while, which Lan Sizhui personally confirmed later when Jin Ling had a talk to him as well.

Six months wasn’t such a long time, and yet it had felt an eternity. Lan Sizhui hadn’t grown during that time away, not exactly, but he had a new air of maturity to himself, a certain spark in his eyes that said he had seen more than most others his age. He was a little less willowy as well, his clothes fitting differently on him compared to before, hinting at more strength than he used to have. His smile, though, remained as gentle as ever.

Jin Ling almost cursed upon seeing him.

It seemed he hadn’t gotten over his stupid crush at all.

Thankfully, for most of this, Jin Ling was too busy with the actual Night Hunt to make too much of a fool of himself. It was a pretty weird situation, with a haunted room in which a thief had died, which then led to a story about a man who had killed multiple women in a very gruesome manner. Jin Ling thought they’d handled that pretty well, really. He even got to be a little cool when he volunteered to stay the night in that haunted room to check if the ghost had really been taken care of. 

Of course it hadn’t, and that was absolutely terrifying, but Jin Ling kept his cool and got to show off to all those Lan disciples in the morning when he recounted what had happened to him. He thought Lan Sizhui looked a little impressed, but that might just have been because he’d been so sure he’d solved the situation with Lan Jingyi the day before. And Jin Ling was also the one to realise the ghost they were dealing with must have been looking for a certain missing body part, which they needed to retrieve if they were to solve the case.

All things considered, Jin Ling thought he had done really great during this whole Night Hunt, and properly demonstrated to everyone, but especially a certain Lan in particular, what a great mature person he had become.

Of course Jin Ling had to ruin that.

It was just the sort of luck he had.

Jin Ling’s only defence was that he’d been exhausted at that point. They’d just spent five entire days looking for a tongue that had been cut off decades earlier, and although it would have been wise to get some sleep before all heading back to their respective sects… but they were young, they were victorious, and the only adult around to supervise them was Wei Wuxian who firmly believed that Lan juniors should be encouraged to misbehave. So of course they had all gathered at an inn, ordered plenty of food, more drink than reasonable (but that was because Wei Wuxian had to be bribed into silence) and had a bit of a party to celebrate their success.

Because Lan Sizhui had been the one to find the ghost’s tongue, everyone wanted to sit with him, it was only natural. Jin Ling had to glare and bare his teeth and elbow a few people so he could sit next to his friend, while Lan Jingyi easily found his place on the other side of Lan Sizhui by virtue of having known him basically since birth. A most unfair advantage, and one more reason to dislike Lan Jingyi, who was luckier than he had any right to be.

Lan Sizhui didn’t appear to notice how much attention was on him. Or if he did, he pretended it didn’t affect him. He just seemed happy to be spending time with everyone, and to no longer be searching around for that damn tongue. Lan Sizhui laughed at other’s jokes, blushed at their praise, made sure that everyone had enough to eat, and just generally behaved like the most perfect person the world had ever known, which he was. Jin Ling was so delighted to have him back around, and happy to see him so admired by everyone else, so of course he had to let it be known in the worst possible way.

“Of course it’s Lan Yuan who gets all the glory,” Jin Ling said at one point, while pouring himself some wine. “Isn’t it always like this? I’m sure some people must have been glad you disappeared for so long, leaving the rest of us a chance to do something. But now that you’re back, I expect it’ll all be about you, right?”

“What do you mean?” Lan Sizhui asked, his beautiful smile falling down.

Jin Ling frowned at the question. What he meant was that Lan Sizhui was, and by far, the best cultivator of their generation, so it was only natural for people to admire him. Sure some others might envy his great skill, but that was their problem, and now that Lan Sizhui was back in the Cloud Recesses, of course he’d gotten back his rightful place in the spotlight.

What else could he have meant?

“I’ve said what I said,” Jin Ling replied. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Sure Gusu Lan valued modesty, but someone as great as Lan Sizhui had to know how good he was at everything, so there was no need to be so humble.

“Shut up or I’ll punch you,” Lan Jingyi threatened, his tone vicious enough to catch the attention of Wei Wuxian who’d been mostly ignoring the juniors in favour of his own jars of wine. 

Even Jin Ling was startled. It was common enough for Lan Jingyi and him to argue. In fact, that was their main bonding activity, they were always bickering, but there was rarely any actual anger to it. If anything, Lan Jingyi usually seemed to enjoy that he had someone he could snap at who wouldn’t scold him for breaking sect rules. But that night, he suddenly looked earnestly furious, and it puzzled Jin Ling.

Must have been the wine, he figured. Those Lan just couldn’t handle alcohol.

“Don’t drink if you can’t deal with it,” Jin Ling said. “And don’t get angry at people just because they’re right.”

Lan Jingyi jumped to his feet, but before he could say anything more, Lan Sizhui grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to sit down away. He had to have put some strength into it, because Lan Jingyi immediately obeyed.

“Jingyi, that’s enough,” Lan Sizhui said, rather more dryly than Jin Ling was used to from him. “If that’s how Jin zongzhu feels, then that’s how it is. I hadn’t meant to be taking the spotlight in an undue manner, and I am sorry if I gave the impression I seek attention. In the future, when working with Jin zongzhu, I’ll be sure to keep my distance to avoid bothering him so much. I thought we’d work as a good team, but…”

Lan Sizhui stood up, fists clenched tight on either side of his body.

“If Jin zongzhu really hates working with me, then of course I’ll respect his choice. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed now. I’ve had a pretty long day.”

He turned away and left the room, leaving behind him a suddenly heavy atmosphere. None of the juniors spoke for a good while, most of them staring at the door through which Lan Sizhui had left. Jin Ling in particular was flabbergasted, scrambling to understand what exactly had just happened there.

At his end of the table, Wei Wuxian snickered as he poured himself more wine.

“You really get your people’s skills from your uncle,” he said, not quite looking at Jin Ling, but quite obviously directed at him nonetheless. “And not the right one for that, might I add. That’s something for you to work on, I’d think.”

“I’m not hearing that from you!” Jin Ling complained. “You’re a weirdo who makes everyone uncomfortable!”

“And yet I caught myself a husband,” Wei Wuxian retorted, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that should have been illegal around impressionable young people. “Clearly I can’t be so bad at dealing with people. I can give you some lessons, if you’d like? Could teach out to flirt even. Hanguang-Jun thinks I’m very good at it.”

All the juniors shivered in fear at the idea of flirting lessons from Wei Wuxian. Even Lan Jingyi threw Jin Ling a sympathetic glance, before remembering he had randomly decided to be furious at his friend and glaring at him.

“Who… who’d want lessons from you about anything?” Jin Ling exclaimed. Then, because he tried to be fair, he added: “Unless it’s about Night Hunting. You’re good at that, when you stop acting all goofy. But for everything else, you’re too weird! If Hanguang-Jun didn’t have such weird tastes to begin with…”

The Lan juniors exploded at the implication their personal hero Lan Wangji was anything less than perfect in all aspects.

“Watch it, Jin zongzhu!”

“Hanguang-Jun’s tastes are excellent for almost everything!”

“It wasn’t enough to be mean to Sizhui, now you have to also go after Hanguang-Jun?”

That last one puzzled Jin Ling, who blinked numbly, trying to understand at what point, exactly, he’d been mean to Lan Sizhui. Before he could ask about that, Wei Wuxian started cackling and thanked all the juniors present for approving of his marriage. This backfired when it turned out that the boys were, in fact, very supportive of the union, and had drunk just enough to not feel ashamed about it. Wei Wuxian, always so quick to tease others with great declarations of affection at a bad moment, completely collapsed under that unexpected wave of affection, which pushed the Lan juniors to be even more demonstrative, until everyone’s attention was on Wei Wuxian.

Jin Ling took his chance and left the table without being noticed, suddenly needing some fresh air. He couldn’t go very far, in case others started to worry, but he still left the inn and started walking up and down the street where it stood, trying to put some order in his thoughts.

He didn’t think that he had been rude to Lan Sizhui, of course. Or at least, he had certainly not intended to be. But between intentions and results there could be a world of difference, and it was true that Jin Ling was sometimes… he tried hard, he really did. He wanted to be as smooth as Jin Guangyao had been (though with less secrets), and he wanted to be as respected as Jiang Cheng was (though preferably without needing to resort on inspiring fear quite as much). But he had a tendency to sometimes say the wrong thing. 

More than sometimes. 

Things would be quite clear in his mind, and then he opened his mouth and said something that pissed off everyone. It didn’t usually matter too much, because he was Lanling Jin’s sect leader, meaning he had enough money and power that people wouldn’t dare get angry at him too openly. But it had always been more of a problem when it came to his personal life. He’d gotten in many fights with his various cousins over the years because they deemed him rude and proud. 

With juniors of other sects, he didn’t really get along all that well either, for the same reason, not until everything that happened in Yi city the year before… and even that had more to do with the people he’d met than with any personal improvement. Ouyang Zizhen was just the sort of person who got along with everyone, even with spoiled brats like Jin Ling. Lan Jingyi was an awful little pest, but he hadn’t been scared by Jin Ling’s status in the least, so they’d quickly found a way to co-exist, even if most people didn’t realise they’d become good friends. And as for Lan Sizhui… well, he was the most perfect person in the world, patient in spite of Jin Ling’s temper, kind to everyone, always striving to bring peace around him, always willing to see the best in others.

Jin Ling stumbled, and nearly fell face first into the dirt of the street.

Lan Sizhui had really looked upset when he’d left, so Jin Ling really must have said something wrong. The most perfect, most patient person in the world, and Jin Ling had managed to make him angry. That really wasn’t a good way to start courting someone.

And he wanted to court Lan Sizhui. Seeing him again after a few months had only made it clear to Jin Ling that this wasn’t just a crush, it was love. He was in love with Lan Sizhui, and determined to make him fall in love back… somehow.

What he needed was… what he needed…

Somewhere behind him, the inn’s door cracked open, just enough for Wei Wuxian to peek outside.

“Jin Ling, it’s getting late!” he shouted, uncaring that he might wake up the whole street. “Everyone’s going to bed and you should as well.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Don’t make me come get you,” Wei Wuxian warned. “Come, you’ll feel better in the morning. Just apologise to Sizhui at breakfast and he won’t hold it against you, he’s a good boy like that.”

Mortified at the idea that Wei Wuxian might try to drag him to bed like a petulant child, Jin Ling made his way back to the inn. He was annoyed though. He’d been on the verge of a great idea when Wei Wuxian had called for him, and now he’d lost it. Hopefully, he’d remember later.

Right then, he just went to sleep as ordered.

In the morning Jin Ling apologised to Lan Sizhui, though he still wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, and Lan Sizhui apologised back for reacting so strongly to a little bit of criticism. Jin Ling hadn’t dared to say he hadn’t meant to criticise, because then he’d have had to explain he was trying to compliment Lan Sizhui, and everyone was there watching them, and it would have been too embarrassing.

The Lan then left to head back to Gusu, while Jin Ling had to return to Lanling to write a report on this situation they had solved.

The whole time he flew towards home, he couldn’t help but wondered if he hadn’t somehow managed to ruin his entire love life at the ripe age of fifteen, just because his mouth and his brain couldn’t get along.

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

ok not to be spiritually edgy on main but i know souls exist somehow. maybe they're dark energy, which is hardly detectable especially in such a small amount, but explains so much as to why humans are as innovative and impactful as we are. maybe souls are something else, maybe there's a god, maybe we're just bad at adding stuff since we invented the rules of mathematics, and our lack of omnipotence prevents us from calculating accurately. maybe the 21 gram experiment was a bust and rightfully rejected. honestly? i believe it. maybe the numbers are off, but like i said, we came up with that shit too. i think souls exist because i can actually feel mine dying. haha, edgy on main right? you're just a bit stressed, right? no, i think people lose parts of their souls as times goes on and they go through heavy traumatic experiences, and when you lose a relationship with someone, a piece of each person detaches and no one really gains in the end, so that energy and liveliness feeds its way back into the free-for-all of the universe or some crap. maybe that's where miracles come from? orphaned ao3 works from nature's root-rotted mycelium worldwideweb of botched narratives. or something less wordy, who gives a shit about the details anyways? this is a vent post from someone who lost their fucking mind years ago, not an avant-garde poem. but back to what i was saying, i think humans have souls because every second mine is rooted to reality i can feel it being peeled away, one ligament at a time. for a while i thought i'd already lost my soul because i hadn't felt anything in years, but that was probably my body's defence mechanism, like when you can't feel your injury from shock. well, i was reminded my soul exists (albeit in botched shape) and now it's barely hanging in there, but since the world has gone to shits, everyone feels entitled to feel bad and ignore worse. "we are ALL busy, i'm stressed right now too!" i don't know jan, i think we're talking about different things right now, because i am literally fighting to stay alive at the moment... but i'll smile and nod my way through your absolutely atrocious and misattributed shakespeare quote you got off pintrest or instagram or facebook or whatever zuckerberg pill-of-poison you pick every day instead of doing your emails that are supposedly ruining your life. so, the TLDR is that souls exist because you can definitely notice when a part of them is missing, even if you chalk it up to cliches or caffeine, and dismiss the writhing restless energy clawing on/at/in/out of your skin. but honestly? i think the only thing worse than losing your soul is feeling your body try to hold onto it for every second of your existence. you can't let go, but the hydrogen peroxide esque disinfectant burn that consumes every part of you, tangible or intangible? yeah. to be redundant, it fucking sucks.

[usermischief]

@sunel0 asked:

7 - Acts like a baby when they’re sick

Theo.

****

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

Theo blinks back at him from the bed, his hair a mess, and his nose red. He sniffs, somehow managing to look completely helpless, and collapses back onto the bed with a low whine that's somewhere between a dying wolf and a lonely one. "It's cold," he whispers, curling into a ball. 

With a sigh, Stiles crosses the bedroom. "Of course it is," he says, grabbing the blanket from the floor, "you have to tuck yourself up."

"No," Theo whines, kicking his legs out, "that’s too warm." Scowling, he rolls onto his back and stares up at Stiles expectantly, almost as if he could do anything about his current situation. Stiles did all he could by calling Brett, whose laughter is still ringing in his ears because Theo managed to pick up the one virus that can even affect supernatural creatures. It's basically the magical equivalent to the common cold, so, it's not bad, no matter how dramatic Theo makes it out to be. He doesn’t even have a fever. 

Stiles throws the blanket at the foot of the bed. "You want me to grab a thinner blanket?" 

Theo shakes his head. 

“You know what would make you feel better?”

Again, Theo simply shakes his head. 

“Sleep.” Stiles drops onto the edge of the mattress, regretting the decision instantly because Theo uses his chance to wrap his arms tightly around his waist, warm cheek pressing against his hip. If he whines again, Stiles will call Brett and beg him for sleeping pills that work on supernatural creatures. He can’t do this for a week. Theo is a nuisance. 

Of course, Theo whines again. “Stay.”

“No.” 

“Why not?” For fuck’s sake, he sounds like a child that’s denied a treat. There has to be something Stiles can do. The last thing he wants is to end up in prison for murdering his boyfriend. Then again, maybe he can convince the police it’s self-defence. He should start recording this. They’d understand. 

“Because you don’t sleep when I’m studying next to you.” Stiles still can’t believe that a common cold is what broke the big bad chimera, and here he thought the guy is invincible. 

Tightening his arms, Theo whines for the third time within the span of five minutes. “But I sleep better when you’re next to me.” 

“Theo-”

“Stiles,” Theo all but wails, his grip tightening even further, and sniffs. 

Groaning, Stiles admits defeat. “Fine. Fine, but if you don’t sleep-”

Theo beams up at him, and Stiles gets the strange feeling that he was just fooled into not studying any longer. The second he’s settled in his bed, Theo is going to wrap around him and make it impossible to study. 

Flicking his forehead, Stiles sighs. “You’re lucky you’re hot as hell.” 

Theo blinks then straightens in shock. “I do have a fever.” 

“No-” Stiles massages his temple. At this point, he’s ready to sell his soul for nerves of steel. “Babe, we measured your temperature an hour ago. You are fine.” When Lydia learnt Theo is sick, she told Stiles to stock up on booze for the rare chance it would turn into a serious case of man-flu. With a sigh, he presses a kiss to Theo’s forehead, cursing his past self for not listening to the smartest person he knows. “If you’re not under that blanket when I’m back,” he whispers between two kisses, “I will poison you with wolfsbane, so you have a reason to feel bad, understood?”

“Understood,” Theo whispers back. 

“Good.” Stiles ruffles Theo’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head for good measure before getting to his feet. 

Theo smiles, pulls the blanket up to his shoulders and closes his eyes.  

[griefprofiled]

@damnbrain (x)

It was like poison, spreading backwards to create revisionist history. A less kind light thrown on things theoretically far removed from the here and now, seeping backwards and outwards beyond his control. Eyes turned back to the circle of vivid unnatural green, the defence rang false. This hadn't been for the pills, and a man was dead.

A man, who had walked into that room and been wilfully wiped out, the brainwashing to 'want' it must have been obvious and she had stood there and without a moment of true pause, killed him. A man, whose WIFE was expected to pretend it was some kind of gift, by the same woman who had facilitated it all.

Please accept this, Abby had begged of him.

Seconds ticked by, and he said nothing. The fact that he couldn't honestly answer his own question to himself of given the choice before everything else that could be blamed for it, would she have done the same thing, giving him pause. Not being able to say yes wasn't as difficult as not being able to instantly say no. And then, quiet and even: "-- Don't defend her."

[immortalpramheda]

The 100 6x05 ‘The Gospel of Josephine’

Josephine was Clarke for half a day and managed to do such a bad job at it. She let Madi go to school when she made it very clear last episode that her answer was no. Shares a little too much about her night with Cillian to Bellamy, leaving him highly confused. Wrote with the wrong hand. Called Murphy ‘John’. Had a confused look on her face whenever anyone spoke Trig.

Bellamy picked up on it pretty quick. Once they’d seen the video in the lab, and Clarke didn’t seem against the whole body snatching thing, he started talking in Trig to her. He hoped he was wrong, and Josie did a decent job at trying to understand what he was saying (as she’s fascinated with languages), but the look on her face was a dead giveaway.

The look of horror on Bellamy’s face as he realise that Clarke is gone, that he’s lost her again, was heartbreaking. Lying there paralysed, unable to to do anything.

Kaylee and Josie were best friends when they first arrived on Alpha. But after Josie killed a friend of hers (in her defence it was a ‘sacrifice’), Kaylee pushed her down the stairs, killing her, and made it look like an accident. So as revenge, Josie flat out kills Kaylee, and steps over her body like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

It took 25 years for Russell and Gabriel to bring Josephine back. They started off inserting the Mind Drives into young kids and teenagers, but they all died. The key was using a host with a mature brain. This time it worked, and Josephine II was born.

They wanted to bring Josephine back because Russell felt guilty about killing her during the eclipse. They just wanted to bring her back and that was it. But I think Josie was the one who took things further. When she learnt how they did this, she remarked that it was brilliant. She seemed utterly fascinated by the fact that they’d conquered death.

Gabriel saying ‘I got old’ basically confirms that he must be the ‘Old Man’. He just wanted to bring Josephine back, but once she took things too far he couldn’t be a part of it anymore.

Josie is a self proclaimed visionary. She’s lived many lifetimes and has had infinite time to learn whatever she desires. She a genius and has written countless books (including the children’s book about the eclipse). But as Abby says, the things written those books are monstrous. What they did in Becca’s lab was bad, but what she writes about in her books are much worse. Josie looked so offended that someone would criticise her work like that (which was quite amusing!).

Josie mentions her ‘breeding program’ idea, which I can guess is to ensure that only Nightbloods are born. What is seems it that she wants a ‘pure bloodline’ because she believes the Primes are the superior species and the only ones that should be alive.

From the short time we've spent with Josephine, she seems like a self absorbed, careless sociopath who does whatever it takes to achieve her desires. Similar to in the flashback (remember when she tested potentially poisonous plants on kids and didn’t care what happened to them?), but now her personality seems to be an even more extreme version of that.

I wonder if each time they get brought back, they loose a piece of themselves. And overtime more and more is chipped away until eventually they have no humanity left. We don’t know how many hosts Josephine has been in (I don’t think?). Maybe she’s gone through more than anyone else and she doesn’t care what happens to the bodies. Because when you can live forever, what do you have to lose?

Jordan is so much like Monty. When no one would take his concerns seriously, he decides to go off snooping on his own, breaking into the palace and finding the skeletons of the previous Primes, and the secret operating lab.

I loved Jordan bringing up that he prefers heart over head Bellamy. If it was someone Bellamy cares about in danger then he’d act with his heart wouldn’t he? Just like Jordan is now because he’s worried about what happened to someone he cares about.

Abby is desperate to save Kane. As she tells Jackson, unlike them, he is a good person. He’s the only one who tried to stop Bloodreina in the bunker. They just sat by and watched. On the the one hand, I understand her point of view. They did nothing to stop these things from happening so technically that makes them just as bad as the person actually doing them. But they did what they had to do to survive. Yes, Octavia shouldn’t have taken away their choice, but in the end they survived. Everyone who was in the bunker is screwed up in some way. Abby thinks that if she saves Kane that will give her some kind of pass for what she did? Not sure how I feel about that, but trauma can effect people differently. Now that she’s off the pills, I guess this is how she’s dealing with everything.

Josephine noticed in the lab that Murphy seemed somewhat envious of the fact that they’re immortal, and so she offered him a chance to be like her. Now that she knows Abby can create Nightblood, she needs someone to help her imitate Clarke. And who better to offer a chance at immortality than a cockroach?

I don’t think Murphy actually is on board with the offer. He always does what is necessary to stay alive. But it is possible that he was so haunted by what he saw when he ‘died’, and if he can’t die, then he can’t go to hell. But I’m leaning more towards he’s just playing along so he can survive.

Octavia sinking in the goop/quicksand because she keeps struggling to get out was very typical of her, always fighting even when there’s no reason to. Meanwhile Diyoza was staying clam. I am loving this team up. Diyoza understands her, she’s been there before, she knows what it’s like to hit rock bottom and to have everyone hate her. She’s in the history books alongside the worst people who have ever lived after all. She’s even tried to kill herself, but yet she’s still standing now. She tells Octavia that as long as she’s still breathing, there’s a chance to turn things around. I hope that hit something in Octavia and made her realise that there is still hope.

The ‘temporal flare’ (which seems like it might be an offshoot of the ‘temporal anomaly’?) seems to cause things to age. Time moves rapidly to whatever it comes into contact with. The trees have all turned to stone and the goop has crystallised over. Octavia decided to put her head under to save herself. She survived, and when she comes out in a way it’s like she was reborn.

I love the little nod she gives to Diyoza, acknowledging that she does want to live. Deep down she doesn’t want to die despite the way she’s been acting lately. Maybe now, after being symbolically reborn, she’s heading in the right direction to turn things around.

Her hand is now all wrinkly and old. The goop protected her mostly, except for her hand which seems to have been exposed to the flare. Is it going to spread to the rest of her body??

This episode was more lighthearted than usual, I found Josephine’s attempt to imitate Clarke quite hilarious! But it’s also advanced the plot in some seriously cool ways. As much as I love to hate Josephine, I hope they find a way to get Clarke back soon.

[irononi]

TL;DR: Her boyfriend has ASPD and used that as a defence to feed her dead slugs, snails, and other bugs (one snail was her pet) and also poisoned her dog. He also replaced her blood pressure meds with salt pills, and intentionally replaced her vegetarian foods with meat because it would make her ill (due to IBS).

So yeah. Fuck that guy.

AITA? (unassuming doormat of a woman proceeds to describe the plot of a horror movie)

[lucajpeg]

Soft Sculpture Tumblr Task

My initial concept for this project was not informed by research at all (though I did subsequently do my homework). The moment i read the words “future organism” (okay, first i read future orgasms, but aaaafter that) my mind ran in a million directions picturing squids and eyes and bellies and slime. The words future and organism are both heavy with association and aesthetic triggers for me. When Rowan mentioned his “nine-legged termite” I was reminded of an old tattoo I have of an animal called a “spiderbug”, half insect half spider, with three legs on one side and four on the other. Funnily enough I had never thought of that tattoo as an asymmetrical animal, but rather as two symmetrical animals morphed together. I drew the spiderbug when i was kind of high/ sad, thinking about mixed genders - mixed emotions  - mixed bodies. 

This meeting of the nine-legged termite and spiderbug sparked an aesthetic and conceptual interest in the idea of odd - as in numerically odd - animals. There are almost no externally asymmetrical animals (internally, humans’ hearts have an asymmetrical tilt to one side). There are birds with beaks that curve to the left, and some crabs have one larger pincer but asymmetrical structures are generally quite rare. Some animals, like sponges, have radial symmetry. Genes work with pattern and repetition, and it would only be in the case of mutation or trauma that a vertebrate animal would have an asymmetrical number of limbs (starfish have five rays, but these are not limbs!). Thinking about the idea of a future organism I am drawn to this idea of an impossible animal, one that wouldn’t work. Reading the article Rowan shared (and other sources too) it is increasingly obvious to what extent humans can manipulate (and overwrite completely) the “laws” and systems that govern how genes function. “Nature” (whatever that means?!) no longer works through repetition and sequence. It can be cut up, edited, spliced, removed. 

Thinking about this concept of gene manipulation and trans-genic species I started conceptualising a biomorphic animal. I started researching and drawing together different biological structures from different animals. Because this project is so structural, I had a kind of “structure informed aesthetic”. I became drawn to animals with structures that interested me, such as tentacles, webbed feet, roll-up exoskeletons. A majority of my research has been looking at animal structures and skeletons. For example, I have designed a leg structure that is somewhere between a frog and a cockroach. 

Ruminating on future organisms and human’s relationship with nature it is almost impossible to insulate ones work from our current ecological crisis. You won’t be able to read about animals for long before coming across words like “endangered” or “extinct”. Resting on this, I began thinking about animal defences. Relating this to my concept of an “animal that wouldn’t work”, an “odd” animal, I started thinking about animal defences that don’t work, and the concept of impotent defences. 

Pangolins, for example, the animal that inspired the structure of the exoskeleton, are built for defence with a thick, impenetrable skin and the ability to roll into a ball. However, they are one of the most critically endangered animals in southern Africa. Frogs, often highly poisonous to people, are under major threat. I wanted to convey an animal that had an obviously defensive structure, and one that obviously wasn’t working. Fleshing out this idea, I decided to convey it further by putting the animal on it’s back, and rendering it’s stomach in a very soft material. I’ve also decided to put holes all over the exoskeleton. I’m going to cover its face with lots of eyes, but maybe use clear marbles or stones to convey blindness (perhaps as though it is a creature that usually lives underground).

This research process is continuous and receptive. I am constantly referring to images and biological diagrams to inform the making process. Sometimes this happens retrospectively- after I made the initial exoskeleton it started looking more like a pill bug than a pangolin, so I started using images of pill bugs to guide me. I’m sure this will continue when I move from the armature to the fabric. The cool thing with working with an imagined animal is that you can let this receptive and dynamic process go in any direction. 

Embedded deep behind this idea of impotent and dysfunctional nature is my underlying and continuos engagement with androgyny. Thinking about words like transgenic and trans-species warrants some thought on the prefix trans - which means on the other side of, or across from. Thinking about asymmetry and a physicality/materiality that goes against “nature” comes back to a lot of my thoughts and understandings about androgyny, and how non-normative genders are understood in biological terms. Where cis-heterosexuality is “natural” and logical, what does it mean to be unnatural? What does it mean to be a body that “doesn’t work”? Engaging conceptually with gender doesn’t always have to be about men and women, or even about humans at all.  I think our understanding of gender and the gender binary is inextricably linked to how people understand and narrate nature. Our narratives about nature inform our narratives about ourselves - and vice versa. With ecological discourse as well as with gender discourse there are dominant narratives, and other narratives that are often suppressed, colonised or erased. I once read a paper by a trans writer that kind of blew my mind, about how sea sponges (which have radial symmetry) are an example of a non-binary animal.

I like to imagine my spiderbug as a queer species, one that fits neither with God’s plan nor with human concepts of ordered and functional biology. It is not singular, or symmetrical, or binary. So much of our emphasis in science and research is on function: what can animals do for us, what can we take from them. There’s something kind of defiant and radical about an animal that can do nothing. 

KEY CONCEPTS/ GUIDING WORDS:

Biomorphic 

Asymmetry 

Transgenic 

Trans-species 

Dark ecology 

Impotency

Defence

Androgyny 

Queer species 

Spiderbug  

[vistascs22]

The Twat Who Tweets

The Reality:

In April 2022, the world’s richest man, Elon Musk, bought 9.1% of the equity in Twitter Inc., which is the world’s biggest microblogging social media network. The deal would allow the world’s richest man to exercise significant influence over a company which majorly swayed public opinion across the globe, although he had ridiculed the platform on several occasions in the past. In order to limit Musk from acquiring additional ownership in the company, the Twitter Board proposed to him to join them as a Director, due to which he couldn’t purchase more than 15% of the social media giant. Musk agreed to do so, until he didn’t, when Jack Dorsey declined his offer to remain on the company’s Board. Musk, instead, approached multiple banks, the most prominent of them being Morgan Stanley, and made an offer to acquire Twitter and take it private for close to USD 44 billion. While the Twitter Board, led by CEO Parag Agarwal, initially refused to accept the deal and incorporated a poison pill strategy to increase the acquisition deal’s bid price, it eventually accepted the deal at its original value, with the acquisition set to be completed after six months. However, a few weeks later, Elon Musk, on Twitter, stated that the deal would be delayed (and later, cancelled) because of false numbers being presented to him on the percentage of bot accounts on the platform. On the grounds of non-disclosure and manipulation of material information, Elon Musk called the deal off. Twitter then approached the Delaware Court of Chancery to force him to honour the acquisition or pay the hefty termination fee of USD 1 billion, in addition to other compensations. Recently, Elon issued another notice to the outgoing Twitter Board to terminate deal, as the company paid USD 7.75 million as severance fee to whistleblowing employee, Peiter Zatko, who is scheduled to testify in the US Senate over the lax security and community policies of the media platform.

Modifications Made to Reality for the Purpose of the Round:

• Tesla, instead of Elon Musk, has initiated the acquisition of Twitter Inc.

• A poison pill strategy has not yet been announced by the Twitter Board of Directors.

• The Board has disagreed to accept Tesla’s acquisition deal.

• Tesla, instead, has decided to move in for a hostile takeover of Twitter.

• The two parties are fighting for the control of the company, despite complete information of bot accounts being known to both sides.

What is a Hostile Takeover:

A hostile takeover occurs when a company (the acquirer) sets to acquire another company (the target) without the agreement of the Board of Directors of the target company. A hostile takeover can occur in two ways: the company may submit a direct offer to the shareholders to get the required stake while bypassing the management of the target company (tender offer) or may systematically replace the members of the management of the target (proxy war).

Task at Hand:

You, as the representatives of either Tesla or Twitter, are required to fight out the hostile takeover attempt and achieve the objectives of your company. Your task is to present to the shareholders of Twitter Inc. to convince them to side with you in this takeover attempt.

Deliverables as the Representatives of Tesla:

i) Rationale behind the Proposed Acquisition

ii) Strategies to Convince Financial Backers of the Deal

iii) Defence Strategies (given the Number of Bot Accounts, presented to Tesla Shareholders)

iv) Tender Offer to Twitter Shareholders

v) Business Integration Strategies (how Twitter’s business could be changed to integrate it into Tesla’s strategic goals)

vi) PR Strategies for the New Twitter

vii) Video Statement from the Tesla CEO appealing to Twitter Shareholders (2 mins)

viii) Press Release

Deliverables as the Representatives of Twitter:

i) Rationale to Reject the Acquisition Offer

ii) Financial Strategies to Prevent the Takeover

iii) Defence Strategies (regarding the Bot Accounts, to the Twitter Shareholders)

iv) Strategies to Address Bot Accounts

v) Proposed Future for Twitter

vi) PR Strategies

vii) Video Statement from the Twitter CEO addressing Shareholders (2 mins)

viii) Press Release

Odd Number Teams (1,3,5,7,9) shall be representing Tesla and Even Number Teams (2,4,6,8,10) shall be representing Twitter (Allocated team numbers and not your ECO numbers).

You are required to email your reports to vistascs22@gmail.com by 8 AM tomorrow.

Contact Anmol Betala (+91 63624 21887) or Dhiti M (+91 9448290096) in case of any doubts regarding the round!

[vistaspr22]

The Twat Who Tweets

In April 2022, the world’s richest man, Elon Musk, bought 9.1% of the equity in Twitter Inc., which is the world’s biggest microblogging social media network. The deal would allow the world’s richest man to exercise significant influence over a company which majorly swayed public opinion across the globe, although he had ridiculed the platform on several occasions in the past. In order to limit Musk from acquiring additional ownership in the company, the Twitter Board proposed to him to join them as a Director, due to which he couldn’t purchase more than 15% of the social media giant. Musk agreed to do so, until he didn’t, when Jack Dorsey declined his offer to remain on the company’s Board. Musk, instead, approached multiple banks, the most prominent of them being Morgan Stanley, and made an offer to acquire Twitter and take it private for close to USD 44 billion. While the Twitter Board, led by CEO Parag Agarwal, initially refused to accept the deal and incorporated a poison pill strategy to increase the acquisition deal’s bid price, it eventually accepted the deal at its original value, with the acquisition set to be completed after six months. However, a few weeks later, Elon Musk, on Twitter, stated that the deal would be delayed (and later, cancelled) because of false numbers being presented to him on the percentage of bot accounts on the platform. On the grounds of non-disclosure and manipulation of material information, Elon Musk called the deal off. Twitter then approached the Delaware Court of Chancery to force him to honour the acquisition or pay the hefty termination fee of USD 1 billion, in addition to other compensations. Recently, Elon issued another notice to the outgoing Twitter Board to terminate deal, as the company paid USD 7.75 million as severance fee to whistleblowing employee, Peiter Zatko, who is scheduled to testify in the US Senate over the lax security and community policies of the media platform.

Modifications Made to Reality for the Purpose of the Round:

· Tesla, instead of Elon Musk, has initiated the acquisition of Twitter Inc.

· A poison pill strategy has not yet been announced by the Twitter Board of Directors.

· The Board has disagreed to accept Tesla’s acquisition deal.

· Tesla, instead, has decided to move in for a hostile takeover of Twitter.

· The two parties are fighting for the control of the company, despite complete information of bot accounts being known to both sides.

What is a Hostile Takeover:

A hostile takeover occurs when a company (the acquirer) sets to acquire another company (the target) without the agreement of the Board of Directors of the target company. A hostile takeover can occur in two ways: the company may submit a direct offer to the shareholders to get the required stake while bypassing the management of the target company (tender offer) or may systematically replace the members of the management of the target (proxy war).

Task at Hand:

You, as the representatives of either Tesla or Twitter, are required to fight out the hostile takeover attempt and achieve the objectives of your company. Your task is to present to the shareholders of Twitter Inc. to convince them to side with you in this takeover attempt.

Deliverables as the Representatives of Tesla:

i) Rationale behind the Proposed Acquisition

ii) Strategies to Convince Financial Backers of the Deal

iii) Defence Strategies (given the Number of Bot Accounts, presented to Tesla Shareholders)

iv) Tender Offer to Twitter Shareholders

v) Business Integration Strategies (how Twitter’s business could be changed to integrate it into Tesla’s strategic goals)

vi) PR Strategies for the New Twitter

vii) Video Statement from the Tesla CEO appealing to Twitter Shareholders (2 mins)

viii) Press Release

Deliverables as the Representatives of Twitter:

i) Rationale to Reject the Acquisition Offer

ii) Financial Strategies to Prevent the Takeover

iii) Defence Strategies (regarding the Bot Accounts, to the Twitter Shareholders)

iv) Strategies to Address Bot Accounts

v) Proposed Future for Twitter

vi) PR Strategies

vii) Video Statement from the Twitter CEO addressing Shareholders (2 mins)

viii) Press Release

Odd Number Teams (1,3,5,7,9) shall be representing Tesla and Even Number Teams (2,4,6,8,10) shall be representing Twitter (Allocated team numbers and not your ECO numbers). You are required to email your PDF submissions to vistaspr22@gmail.com by 8 AM tomorrow.

(Naming Convention for File and Email Subject Line: "Allocated Team Number_Name of the Round")

Contact Anmol (+91 63624 21887) in case of any doubts regarding the round, before 12 AM tonight!

[mylucky137276]

What is a 'poison pill' strategy & why has Twitter adopted one?

A poison pill strategy gives existing shareholders the right to purchase additional stock at a significant discount, thus diluting the holdings of a new, hostile investor. It is officially known as a shareholder rights plan. Twitter’s poison will stay in place for a limited duration of one year.

The shareholder who triggers the poison pill will be blocked from making these discounted stock purchases.

Twitter’s pill would be triggered if a shareholder acquires more than 15% of the company in a deal not approved by the board.

Twitter said the move aims to enable its investors to “realize the full value of their investment” by reducing the likelihood of any one person gaining control of the company without either paying shareholders an appropriate control premium or giving the board more time.

Twitter’s board is still assessing Musk’s offer. And it would only put it to the company’s shareholders for a vote after approval.

Musk, on his part, had said that his current non-binding $43 billion buyout offer was partly contingent on “completion of anticipated financing”.

Musk currently owns 9.1% of Twitter. If he were to increase his holding to more than 15%, Twitter’s defence strategy will flood the market with new shares that all shareholders except Musk can buy at a discounted price.

This would instantly dilute Musk’s stake, making the takeover way more expensive.

The strategy also gives Twitter more time to evaluate Musk’s offer and can force him to directly negotiate with its board.

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