#redress scheme

[insurancesamadhan0]

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[starogeorgina]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, self harm

1.03

“Shh, shh,” you try to gently rock Daenys to sleep. “Please, calm down, sweet girl.”

Your daughter was brought to you in the early hours since she woke up fussy and wouldn’t latch onto the wet nurse. Luckily, she fed from your breast without issue, but your silver-haired baby was still unhappy and crying. From the flush in Daeny's cheeks and the redness in her gums, you suspect she has started teething.

“Princess,” one of the handmaids approaches you while nervously pulling on the sleeve of her dress. You often wonder how the servants who followed Rhaenyra to Dragonstone felt watching the way their beloved princess was treated. “The maester wishes to speak with you as a matter of urgency. There is a wet nurse in the room down the hall; would you like me to take Daenys to her while you dress?”

Reluctantly, you nod and hand your daughter over to the younger woman. As soon as you’re left alone, you bring the faded nightgown over your head and redress yourself, choosing to put on the light grey gown you were wearing the night you were taken. It was made to accommodate the swell of your stomach, and now the extra fabric hung loose down the front. You had others to choose from, but it was one of the only items you had that was truly yours.

In every passing moon, the maester would examine you for any sign of pregnancy, which was humiliating, so you’d at least attempt to try and maintain a shred of dignity. You comb your hair with your fingers and try to straighten out the creases on your dress. Just as you finish adjusting yourself, the door to the room opens, and the maester, followed by a handmaiden, enters.

—

You were cursed by the ghosts of your father's blindness and your mother's lies. Your mother claimed that before King Viserys died, he declared he wanted Aegon on the throne, and all the men who deemed a woman unfit to rule believed her. Your father turned a blind eye to your family's scheming for years, and now the future of the realm would be full of war, murder, and misery.

As you dig your nails into the palm of your hand to stop yourself from screaming, blaming your parents for this situation was an easy option. If the throne wasn’t usurped, then envoys would never have been sent; Lucerys would still be alive, as would Jaehaerys, and you and your daughter would be safe in Aemond’s arms.

And if your father had been stronger-willed, none of it would have happened.

Being so caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Prince Daemon entering the room. It’s not until you feel his presence beside you that you finally address him, “What is it?”

“A raven arrived from the red keep; one of my little spies has informed Criston Cole and your cunt of a husband that we have taken you north.”

No, no, no.

“They are currently gathering the green forces and will leave in a couple of days. Which means the false king won’t have that hoary old bitch, Vhagar, to hide behind. With only Sunfyre on his side, we can easily take the city back with the mere threat of Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax, Moondancer, and Tyraxes.”

“Need I remind you, uncle, which side my dragon is on?”

Gripping your jaw tightly, Daemon shoved you against the wall. “Need I remind you, niece, that you’re nothing more than a prisoner? I’ve spared your daughter's life, something the fucking kinslayer didn’t do for Luccerys.”

You slap his hand away and say, “You’ve got what you wanted; you're getting another child. Do not fucking touch me again.”

Daemon places both hands firmly on the wall beside your head, caging you in. His eyes flickered over you; he didn’t quite believe what you just said. “The maester confirmed this?”

“I haven’t bled in two moons; the maester is convinced my stomach will swell again soon.” Sarcastically, you add, “Congratulations; I hope you're as excited as I am.”

—

After speaking with the maester himself, Daemon kept his original promise and had you move to a larger, more comfortable bedchamber with crimson colors and dragon decor, and soon a crib would be brought in and your daughter would join you. All you cared about was keeping Daenys close.

You feel the lavish oils soothing the ache in your shoulders when one of the handmaidens rubs them onto your skin. This was the first time in many moons you had bathed properly, and the luxury of having a clean body, hair, and clothing wasn’t something you’d take for granted again.

“My Prince,” the handmaiden nods her head at him, then attempts to cover you up with a towel, causing your uncle to chuckle.

“It’s considered bad manners to interrupt a lady while she’s bathing.”

“It’s nothing new," he says as he stands at the bottom of the tub, showing no attempt to advertise his gaze from your bare breasts. “Perhaps I wanted to join you in bathing.”

“I’d rather you drowned me.“

Daemon smirks, “Leave us.”

The handmaiden gives you an apologetic look, then leaves. No matter how many times Daemon spilled his seed inside you, the reality of carrying his child never felt real until now. You’d already suffered on the birthing bed out of duty; now you’d be doing it again to keep Daenys safe. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste the salty tears on your lips. “What happens if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had two other daughters once; both of them died.”

Daemon comes to the side of the tub and crouches down so he’s eye level with you. “I wasn’t aware.”

Red blotches appear on your chest and neck as you struggle to stop your voice from cracking. “The first girl's name was Anya; she came early after three days of labor.”

Your mother had remained by your side throughout your labor, and the look of horror on her face when she saw the ‘thing’ you delivered would be forever etched in your mind. Anya’s skin was covered in small scars that looked similar to dragon scales. But no matter how monstrous she may have appeared to others, you thought she was beautiful. Against the maesters advice, Aemond visited you before the silent sisters had come to take the baby, and it was the first time since the night he lost his eyes that you’d seen him cry.

“I gave birth to Rhaella the following year; she was born at the end of the fall but was taken by the winter fever.“

The expression on Daemon’s face was hard to read; he himself knew of the pain you and Aemond have suffered from losing a baby. And you could only begin to imagine the grief and suffering the blacks felt after Lucery's death. “And news of this never reached Dragonstone?”

Your eyes sting from crying. “Our family has always been divided; who would have told you?”

“My brother.”

“Ha,” you scoff. “You saw what my father was like in the end. He had consumed so much milk from the poppy that he became oblivious to everything around him; the only person he ever wished to speak with was Rhaenyra.”

Frowning, he skims his finger over the water.

“I feared I would never again bear a living child, but the gods blessed me with Daenys. But I shall ask again, uncle, What will happen if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”

“You do not want to find out, niece.”

[play-now-my-lord]

one like = one gentle suggestion for redress of popular grievances whispered in the ear of the god-emperor by his scheming eunuchs

one reblog = 1 more eunuch sex act tacitly tolerated by the god-emperor as a sign of his kingly forebearance

[pocket-watcher]

The following is a collab between myself and the amazing @blissful23 !

Ding-Dong

The doorbell sounded and Suzie looked up from styling her long, blonde hair in the mirror. This always happens when she’s just getting ready to go out! She had readjusted the shirt she had “borrowed” from her roommate, as it was slightly too tight, checked her eyeliner was even for the 50th time, and was just finishing her lipstick with a satisfied pop.

She sighed frustratedly, stood up, and made her way to the source of the offending sound. Opening the front door, she was greeted by a man she’d never seen before. Dark hair and - oh God - a curled moustache framed a sharp featured face, adorned with a rather ostentatious top hat. Finely attired in a black suit, jacket resplendent with coattails, he gave a slight bow in greeting. It took all her willpower not to outright laugh in the face of this antiquity standing before her.

“Good day ma’am, it’s a fine afternoon, is it not?”

She stood, arms crossed in exaggerated frustration, staring back at him.

“How can I help you… Sir?”

She put the extra emphasis on that last word, wishing him to know quite pointedly that she was being interrupted. He smiled in return - whether it was sincere or strained in response to her standoffishness, she couldn’t tell.

“Well, you see my dear, I’m selling these very fine pocketwatches.”

With exaggerated flourish, he swept his coat open, revealing a dazzling array of pocketwatches hanging on the inside of it. He held it in place, and as if by magic - more likely the momentum of him opening his coat, she thought to herself - each of the pocketwatches begun swinging in unison. Probably a bit of showmanship designed to wow a potential customer, but still, it was fascinating to watch as they swung back and forth, back… and forth… back…

Suzie shook her head, dispelling a sudden onset of light-headedness, and redressed her gaze to The Salesman. He pulled his coat closed and smiled once more. A little less sure of her cold reception to him initially, she spoke again.

“Those are very lovely, but… I have no real need of a pocketwatch.” She said, gesturing to her phone.

“Ah, but my dear, you didn’t even take notice of our finest model!”

She bristled inwardly at being addressed as “my dear” again, and fixed her gaze to the pocketwatch he was now dangling in front of her face. It was silver, hooked by a long thin strap. The outer shell had some sort of pattern cut out of it to reveal the clock face behind, but with the shell popped open she couldn’t quite tell what was meant to be on the front. The spindling hands on the clock ticked away excitedly.

“Look at this gorgeous embedded crystal, and how it changes in the light! Let me swing it so you can see how it changes colour in the light…”

As he began swinging it from side to side, her jaw almost instantly fell agape at the sight of it, finding herself unable to draw her soft, blue eyes away from it.

"So many colours! Which colour do you prefer?" 

It was so hard to decide. So many splendid, beautiful colours to pick from. She tried to follow them as they shifted moment to moment. It was hard to think of a favourite. So hard to think… was all Suzie’s mind could muster for the moment, her thoughts, plans for the day, all of them fading away, replaced by her fascination with the tantalising kaleidoscope dancing before her eyes.

"I, uhh.... c-colours..."

The Salesman smiled wide. It wasn’t always this easy, but they all ended up this way eventually.

"Yes, pretty colours... and as each one shines, your worries and cares fade just that little bit more..."

Not having to think and just being able to enjoy the colours did sound nice to Suzie. Joyous, even; and she allowed herself a little giggle at the suggestion. She tried to help him how wonderful that sounded, but her mind was already so devoid of thought, all she could utter was:

"Hee-hee… colours...!"

Knowing he had her right where he wanted her, The Salesman followed on with his scheme.

“Can you hear the ticking? No? Maybe you should invite me inside where it’s quieter so you can really focus in on the sound…”

Had she heard the ticking? She wasn’t sure. Probably best to listen to him. A dull, errant thought in the back of Suzie’s near-blank mind warned that this was a bad idea, but was immediately overruled by the obedient thrall she found herself in.

"Uhhh… Won't you... nghh... won't you... please come in..."

“My dear, I thought you’d never ask…”

—

As he stepped through the doorway, another voice could be heard deeper inside.

“Suzie? You haven’t seen my top, have you? The low-cut one with the ruffles - oh.”

Suzie’s roommate Miranda - a stunning redhead - entered the room. Always a favourite, those, The Salesman thought to himself. She stopped upon seeing him eyeing her.

“Uh… hello. And you are?” Miranda asked, curiously, confused at the way Suzie stood there smiling blankly at her.

“He’s… He sells… pocketwatches…” Suzie answered for the strange man.

“Yes, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you like to take a look, my dear?”

“No, thank you. We,” Miranda looked sternly at Suzie, “are actually running late. So if you’ll excuse us…”

Suzie didn’t move, however. As Miranda went to grab her arm she simply smiled up at her.

“But… They’re so pretty…” She said, as if she struggled with every word.

The Salesman pulled out the watch. “See for yourself.”

Miranda looked at him, exacerbated, before huffing, turning back to Suzie in confusion. 

“Come on. We’re leaving.”

"But they’re so pretty..." Suzie whined. “Just take a closer look. You know you want to…”

Miranda looked. She couldn’t see anything special about this pocketwatch. Though, truth be told, she was struggling to take in any of the details as she tried to follow it with her hazel eyes. If only this guy would stop swinging it in front of her… back… and forth… and…

“What, are you trying to hypnotise me into buying one or something?” She laughed. But, then, she thought…

Looking at her usually headstrong friend standing quietly with her eyes tracking the watch’s every movement, everything seemed to click into place.

“Aha… w-wait. You’re not… You’re not actually trying to… right…?” 

Miranda was getting nervous, hiding it behind laughter. No. Of course he wasn’t. Hypnosis wasn’t real.

“My God, you are trying to hypnotise… me, aren’t you? And what have you done to Suzie? I’ve had enough of this, please leave.”

The Salesman frowned at this, placing his watch back inside of his jacket. She was going to be tougher. Luckily, he liked a challenge. Reaching into his jacket once more, his fingers brushed along the watches until he found… yes. Perfect.

“But my dear, you haven’t seen our Timepiece de Resistance…” He pulled out a small golden watch. Its chain was more detailed than the other, with a texture almost like woven vines. The numbers were roman numerals. Or were they? Miranda couldn’t tell. 

Shit. She’d been staring at it, hadn’t she?

Miranda covered her eyes and turned away,

“We call it that because it’s the Timepiece that causes all your resistance to melt away…”

His voice was deep in her brain now. It was so… so tempting to look back at him. And Suzie’s pleasant hums of approval weren’t helping.

“No, I won’t… you’re not going to… hypno… hypnotise… me…” Miranda managed, looking up to see Suzie had walked over to her. 

“Go on… just a little look… it would feel so good, Miranda…” Suzie spoke softly, almost dreamlike.

Then another thought hit her. If Suzie could sneak up on her, this guy could be anywhere! She had to check for certain if he was still between them and the door. 

She looked up at him and her attention was captured by the watch once more.

“Get… get out…” Miranda said as firmly as she could manage.

“Please calm down… You don’t need to be so on edge, so angry… Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night…”

Her eyes started to droop. All this fighting was exhausting. The only easy thing right now was keeping her eyes on that watch.

“No, I… I don’t need to… sleep… I’m completely…” She tried to stifle a yawn “… Awake…”

“We both know that’s not true, my dear… Look at you. You’re struggling to stay awake. You can barely keep your eyes open…”

Her hands, once balled into fists, were now relaxed and hung limply by her side. Miranda found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

“No… I’m not - yawn - sleepy…”

The man approached her, guiding her over to the couch, where Suzie had, at some point, also had found herself.

“There’s no need to fight it anymore… You want to give in to it… You want to surrender to slumber…”

“Surrender… to slumber…” Miranda felt a smile grow on her own face as she repeated after him, her weary eyelids now stuck at half-mast. 

“That’s it…” He looked at his pocket watch. Another job well done.

“Well, ladies, it appears I may have lost track of time.” He chuckled, leading the girls to giggle mindlessly… although, they weren’t quite sure why they were laughing. But Master was so funny, wasn’t he?

“I’ll just leave this here.” The Salesman said as he placed a business card on the coffee table in front of them. “In case you know anyone else who might appreciate my services, hm?” 

He watched as Suzies head slowly slumped onto Miranda’s shoulders, both girls blissfully asleep. He straightened his hat, closed the door behind him, and moved onto the next house.

[lunastrophe]

About Drow Economy

From Drow of the Underdark (3.5e):

The drow economy consists of three separate yet inextricably intertwined systems of exchange, each of which is largely specific to a particular social and political caste.

Coins

When dealing with drow of a lower station, such as when a matriarch or priestess purchases goods from a vendor, the race makes use of coinage - just as do most surface dwellers. Gold, silver, and other precious metals have roughly the same buying power in drow communities as they do elsewhere, though the rate of exchange varies somewhat based on available metals, scarcity of resources, and the mood of the drow doing the shopping.

The drow rarely mint their own coins, preferring to make use of foreign monies brought in by outside traders or taken in raids on other races. On those rare occasions when they do mint coins, the results are exceptionally plain, either totally unadorned or stamped with the signs of Lolth and/or the house who produced them. The drow also use coins when trading with others, unless the foreigner has something of particular interest to sell.

Barter

Although one low-ranking drow might use coins to purchase goods or services from another low-ranking drow, the standard form of exchange between relative equals is a system of barter. A swordsmith might offer the neighboring baker a new blade in exchange for a few weeks’ worth of bread. A cleric might heal a wounded soldier, if the soldier in turn agrees to kill someone to whom the cleric owes a debt. A priestess might perform a marriage ceremony in exchange for several barrels of fine lichen wine and a potion of invisibility. At the upper levels of society, drow might trade slaves, individually or by the dozens, in exchange for exotic animals, valuable works of art, or access to a fertile mushroom farm.

Favors

The third practice, common only among the drow elite, is the exchange of favors. This system creates a web of debts and obligations that often stretches across the entirety of the house and church leadership, frequently binding drow to complete strangers by only one or two “steps.” A typical agreement of this sort might resemble the following: “If you ally with me to prevent the Matron of House Inlindl from gaining control of the northern trade route, I will owe you a great favor in exchange.”

The interesting thing about this system of boons is that drow actually prefer to pay off their debts as soon as possible. For a drow, having too many obligations hanging over one’s head is tantamount to political and social suicide. She cannot afford to directly challenge anyone to whom she owes a great favor, for fear of that favor being called in and ruining one of her ongoing schemes. Additionally, high-caste drow often trade favors to third parties, meaning that a matriarch might find herself suddenly obligated to someone with whom she would never willingly have cooperated, or even someone she doesn’t know.

One might imagine that the drow would simply ignore these commitments, but despite their selfish nature, very few actually do so. They know that if they refuse to acknowledge a legitimate debt, word will spread swiftly and nobody will deal with them in the future. They might even find the other houses turning against them, seeking to eliminate the threat to the system and the status quo.

Promise Tokens

Not even enlightened self-interest is always enough to keep the drow honest, so a wise dark elf making one of these deals often demands the exchange of promise tokens. These are small baubles or pendants, often made of silver, that are engraved with the symbol of the drow’s family or house. They are often also marked invisibly, such as with the arcane mark spell. If a drow refuses to honor a debt, the creditor might present the promise token as evidence of the arrangement when besmirching her name and seeking redress. Of course, it’s not impossible to fake a promise token, but their frequent usage does make reneging on a debt - or making one up - somewhat difficult.

[cryptoriascollectiblog]

Another Ghoulia post because darn all she’s awesome and needs more love😤❤️🧟‍♀️ I restyled her signature outfit slightly: despite only having two dolls and limited pieces, her color scheme is super versatile and I love redressing her!

[yourthirdparent]

Things had been silent for a while. Quan Chi had hardly moved for minutes on end. Shortly after they had finished (beautifully, Johnny may add), he'd sat up on Cassie's couch and stared at a wall blankly. He hadn't moved when Johnny had set his hand atop his. He hadn't moved when Johnny had done the same thing a moment later after cleaning up and redressing himself.

And now things were silent.

Johnny was willing to let Quan Chi take his time, willing to wait for him to be ready, but things were silent and Cassie could come out of her room any minute and Quan Chi still wasn't dressed, so he moved his hand to Quan Chi's shoulder and called his name quietly.

Quan Chi didn't move. Johnny let his hand fall down. Things remained silent.

Twenty years seemed to pass before he finally spoke, his voice—typically so dramatic, often winding into long sentences drawn out for far longer than they needed to be, carrying a theatrical flair that could easily put Johnny to shame; usually so clear, deep and naturally projected, travelling directly through the air and seeming to wriggle like worms into Johnny's brain to lead him into obsession—newly quiet.

“This was a mistake.”

Johnny stayed silent.

He knew Quan Chi had valid reasons for thinking that. They were in Johnny's daughter's living room (and those stains were definitely from where Johnny had leaked onto her couch, whoops). Johnny was newly widowed. Quan Chi was still with Shang Tsung, and Shang Tsung was terrifying and would probably kill one or both of them if—when he found out.

Not only that, but Quan Chi was still evil. He still fully intended to conquer the realms for whatever dark scheme he had. He had made it very clear that the peace between himself and Earthrealm was temporary. He was still Earthrealm's enemy, and sleeping across enemy lines was generally implied to be against the rules.

But Johnny didn't regret a damn thing. He didn't consider it a mistake at all.

Admittedly, and maybe a little embarrassingly, Johnny truly had fallen for Quan Chi. Something about his cluelessness about Earthrealm things and the way he'd always ask Johnny first was charming. The way he'd fall for Johnny's “deez nuts” jokes every time was endearing. The way he would come back to him even after turning Johnny down had his heart fluttering.

And it wasn't just about the chase. He'd felt light and floaty whenever he got even slightly closer to something, anything with him. He had been so thrilled when Quan Chi had finally confessed to having feelings for Johnny. His heart broke a little when Quan Chi said it was a mistake. No, his feelings were genuine—the most genuine they'd been maybe ever, and he had a tendency to love with his whole heart.

But he'd let Quan Chi make a mistake. He'd let Quan Chi hurt himself. So he made a mistake.

So he remained silent.

[kitty-is-writing]

5 lines tag!

thanks for tagging me @leahnardo-da-veggie ! I thought I'd dig into my older work for this one, and found some lines from Beyond the Serpent Hills.

My lines are: A line about justice, a line about hatred, a line you were proud of, a line about balance, and a wildcard line (anything you wanna share ;))

a line about justice

“No.” Speaking loud enough for her words to carry around the now silent arena, she addressed the mage. “I will not kill you; seeing you humbled is vengeance enough. Among my kind, showing mercy to the defeated is a sign of honour, not weakness.”

a line about hatred

Qhac’us narrowed his eyes, wondering what the wily female was plotting this time. Xyli’e had always been a scheming, calculating bitch; her every word was carefully chosen to advance her influence. It was rumoured that she had a hand in the last matriarch’s premature death, elevating herself to the position.

a line I'm proud of

“Perhaps she will, if she can attain the position.” He looked thoughtful. “They say a revolution starts with a single voice; but promises made by the powerful are not always kept. Only time will tell, I suppose. Were you looking for anything specific, by the way?” he asked.

a line about balance

“Remember one thing, Kandrina. This sword is an instrument of balance, not of death or destruction. Should you attempt to use it with senseless slaughter in mind, it will fail you. Seek only to redress the wrong done to you, nothing more.” Ralor-Kanj watched her closely, hoping she would choose sensibly. He had been observing Kandrina for some time now, and while she showed promise, she was still young, and not fully in control of her temper at times.

wildcard line

“Gah! Wha… quit prodding me, what?” he grunted. He blinked sleepily and looked around the cell, his eyebrows raising when he spotted Kandrina. “Hey, you got a sword. Nice. Maybe you can trim their claws for them.”

I'll tag @agirlandherquill , @frostedlemonwriter , @charlesjosephwrites plus open tag!

Your lines are: a line about grief, a line about love, a line that shows character growth, a line that makes you smile, and a wildcard line (anything you fancy sharing)

[head-post]

A group of British women born in the 1950s are seeking compensation after the government raised the state pension age, leaving many financially vulnerable as the cost of living remains high.

The group Women Against State Pension Inequality (WASPI) is seeking compensation, arguing that women affected by the changes received minimal notice, unlike men, and were therefore unprepared for today’s high cost of living.

WASPI began campaigning in 2015, seeking redress for the UK government’s sudden change to the retirement age, which increased the retirement age for women from 60 to 65 in 1995 and then to 66.

Unlike men, who received six years’ notice of the increase, many women born in the 1950s had only one or two years to prepare for the six-year increase. They argue that this discrepancy leaves them financially vulnerable and unprepared for retirement.

In March, the Parliamentary Health Service Ombudsman (PHSO) admitted that the government had failed to properly inform women about the changes. But despite this finding, the government has yet to introduce a compensation scheme.

WASPI held a rally in Parliament Square in London last week to coincide with the Labour Party’s first budget announcement since coming to power, and called on the government to address their grievances.

Lynne Ruddock, WASPI co-ordinator, said the ombudsman’s findings should be the basis for compensation. She told media, emphasising that the movement intends to continue its campaign:

They’ve been given a varying amounts of compensation that each WASPI woman should be given.

Ruddock criticised the previous Conservative government for skirting the issue, saying they ignored it knowing “they would not be re-elected” in elections earlier this year.

She also accused the new Labour government of not supporting the WASPI case in the past now that it was in power. she said:

Before Labour were re-elected, in opposition, they were massive, massive supporters of our cause. Now they’re in government, they’re not interested.

Barbara Parker, another local WASPI coordinator, emphasised the financial hardship the changes have led to, especially amid the rising cost of living.

For many of the women affected, the financial losses are significant, totalling around £40,000 to £50,000 per person.

Read more HERE

[insurancesamadhan0]

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[spockvarietyhour]

was rewatching Trek V w @kiranerys and compared to VI, V barely puts any effort in redressing TNG sets (and some of those are they themselves repurposed from earlier movies). Usually I'll just point out the hallways,

which aside from hastily put on panels to cover the black LCARS screens and the change in turbolift cars, the rest is the same (no money to change signage on the door, carpeting,.....)

VI does a smart attempt by adding some overhead pipes and hatchways and a different lighting scheme to make it more claustrophobic.

(does it mesh with wider hallways of of wrath of khan? no. but it gets the job done).

Even the transporters get a decent redress with the blast shield and removal of the isolinear stack (and the 88-89 need for neon accents on everything)

(as covered here in more detail)

Anyhoo, all of this preamble to say that, since my childhood was watching these movies in 4:3 and V is the one I revisit the least, I didn't notice until this watch that when Scotty wakes up in Sickbay the okudgrams behind him are the TNG ones:

Something theatre audiences would see but not television ones as that would be entirely cropped out.

just hilarious that's all. Trek movies would continue to pass sets back and forth to each other as the movies kept going on but trek vi does a better job including the TNG sickbay:

(shhh it's dark so you can't tell we didn't change much and we have the right consoles above the biobeds)

The President's Ten Forward:

snazzy dark Conference room

(the glass hides the shape of the windows)

[thesupreme316]

Warlord and the reader celebrating their anniversary

i GOTCHUUUUUUU

Wardlow and Fem!Reader Celebrating their Anniversary: (Wardlow x Fem!Reader)

Word count: 787

Genre: Fluff

Supreme Speaks: i know that I always say this but sorry for taking too long. shoutout to @hookerforhook for allowing me to write their requests (plz keep them coming). hope everyone enjoys this one. P.S. Remember you are loved and appreciated

Warnings: none i don't think, barely proofread

Taglist: @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom

Wardlow is a sweetheart and you cannot change my mind

A very strong, tall, delicious looking, smells good, funny, charismatic sweetheart indeed

In terms of yall getting together, he would have not stopped chasing you until you agreed to date him

(Then again if you rejected this man you are crazy and we need to talk-)

Throughout your relationship, he has been very hands-on and open about everything with you

I believe he would communicate very well with you

“Baby please don’t hate me but that couch does not go with the furniture”

“Babe, it’s the sims-”

Would think about you for the majority of the day

And would get you little trinkets while he’s on the road

He’s very protective of you and hates to be away from you for long

Always tries to get you to travel with him

Overall, Wardlow is grateful for you putting up with his schedule and the demands in his life and decided to treat you for the upcoming milestone

For the anniversary he would pull out all the stops

Breakfast in bed? With your favorite flowers? And the bottomless mimosas if you wanted? (or water if that’s your style)

OKAY HEAR ME OUT He would allow you to open one gift for every meal you two eat

So he has three big gifts for you in total

(and then he’ll eat you afterward if you know what I mean)

Wants you to wear a matching color scheme with him (his favorite color is black)

Would take you to a spa day cause he got certificates to use

After a nice back massage, he’ll take you out to lunch at your favorite place

DON’T THINK THIS IS ONE-SIDED

You gifted him with a map of where ya’ll first met and a transcript of your first words to each other

He said he’s gonna put it up in y’alls living room

“Is that Leo the Lion?”

He gives you a blooming flower box like this

I don’t think he’s into doing DIY by himself so he asked the girls at work to help him with the gift and putting it together

You nearly teared up as you looked through the memories together

“Oo babe! This is when you got chased by that-”

“I thought I took that one out -_-”

Although this is a nice gift, he saved the best for last

Hours later you got redressed cause he said “It’s a fancier place”

While y’all are matching again, he blindfolds you and takes you to the location

After stumbling in your heels (cause you can’t see or if you don’t wear heels that’s cool too), he took off your blindfold and you saw a beautiful table decorated with roses and pictures of the two of you hanging up by the tree branches in a garden

You awed and squealed as tears entered your eyes yet again

He leads you to the table where your favorite meal and alcoholic (or non-alcoholic) beverage awaits

While eating, you two discussed today and future plans, ultimately deciding today was the best anniversary ever

After you finished eating, you were given a dessert with the words “Marry Me?” on it

You looked up at Wardlow in shock as he got down on one knee with a beautiful ring in his hands

(girl if you weren’t crying earlier, you’re sobbing now as I’m about to get fluffy)

“Y/N, I truly love you. I cannot imagine my life without you, and I hope I never have to go on without you in my life. You have been my rock, the one person who keeps me grounded. Today, really cemented how I feel about you and how even after three years of dating, I still get nervous and butterflies when you just look at me. Babygirl, I am in love you. God, I’m so in love with you. You are the most caring, sincere, beautiful, and intelligent person I’ve ever met. Thank you for showing me how to love you unconditionally, with passion and purity. You will always be the best part of my life. I say all that to ask, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You quickly nodded as tears streamed down your face. Wardlow got up, put the ring on your finger, and kissed you as the hired photographer took pictures of you.

Hugging you, he kissed your forehead and looked up at the sky. You felt his body shake and looked down to see him shaking his leg, you laughed at him

“Does your knee hurt?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Let’s book another massage, you old man.”

“The old man you’re gonna marry.”

Overall…Wardaddy is an amazing boyfriend who is gonna turn into a wonderful husband.

[warningsine]

The American Ornithological Society, the organization responsible for standardizing English bird names across the Americas, announced on Wednesday that it would rename all species honoring people. Bird names derived from people, the society said in a statement, can be harmful, exclusive and detract from “the focus, appreciation or consideration of the birds themselves.”

That means the Audubon’s shearwater, a bird found off the coast of the southeastern United States, will no longer have a name acknowledging John James Audubon, a famous bird illustrator and a slave owner who adamantly opposed abolition. The Scott’s oriole, a black-and-yellow bird inhabiting the Southwest and Mexico, will also receive a new moniker, which will sever ties to the U.S. Civil War general Winfield Scott, who oversaw the forced relocation of Indigenous peoples in 1838 that eventually became the Trail of Tears.

The organization’s decision is a response to pressure from birders to redress the recognition of historical figures with racist or colonial pasts. The renaming process will aim for more descriptive names about the birds’ habitats or physical features and is part of a broader push in science for more welcoming, inclusive environments.

“We’re really doing this to address some historic wrongs,” said Judith Scarl, the executive director of the American Ornithological Society. Dr. Scarl added that the change would help “engage even more people in enjoying and protecting and studying birds.”

Advocates of this change believe that many English common names for birds are “isolating and demeaning reminders of oppression, slavery and genocide,” according to a petition in 2020 that was addressed to the American Ornithological Society. The petition was written by Bird Names For Birds, an initiative founded by two ornithologists to confront the issue of these bird names, which it describes as “verbal statues” reflecting the values of their eponyms.

But some birders, while expressing sympathy for the cause, said that they were unsure that this was the right route to take. “I’m not super enthusiastic about it, but neither am I super disappointed about it,” said Jeff Marks, an ornithologist at the Montana Bird Advocacy.

“We’ll lose a little bit of knowledge about some key people in the history of ornithology, and that saddens me,” Dr. Marks said. “But maybe in the scheme of things that’s just not that big of a deal.”

Jordan Rutter, a founder of Bird Names For Birds, said the petition was inspired by what became a momentous encounter in Central Park in 2020, when a white woman falsely reported to police that Christian Cooper, a Black birder, was threatening her.

The Central Park encounter inspired the creation of Black Birders Week, an annual campaign to celebrate the lives and careers of Black birders, which then spurred an avalanche of similar initiatives in the sciences against the backdrop of a nationwide racial reckoning. In 2021, the Entomological Society of America began the Better Common Names Project to change the names of insects deemed inappropriate or derogatory. Astronomers have also advocated for the renaming of major telescopes that they say alienate people from marginalized backgrounds.

In birding communities, pushes to move away from problematic bird names have produced mixed results. The Bird Union and the Chicago Bird Alliance recently changed their names to avoid an association with Audubon. But the board of directors at the National Audubon Society voted to retain its name this year, saying that the mission of the organization transcended the history of one person.

In 2022, the American Ornithological Society announced the formation of an ad hoc committee to determine how to address controversial bird names. Members of the committee met every two weeks for months, discussing topics such as the importance of name stability and how to determine the criteria for changing a bird’s name.

Wednesday’s announcement is the culmination of that effort. In its statement, the American Ornithological Society committed to changing all bird names derived from people and assembling a diverse group to oversee the renaming process, which it said would include input from the general public. More than 100 avian species across the Americas will be given new names.

“The idea of changing a bunch of names is, to many people — myself included, originally — throwing out a lot of history,” said John Fitzpatrick, an ornithologist at Cornell University. He said that he initially felt bird names should be evaluated on a case-by-case basis but that further discussions convinced him that “there is no formula by which we can figure out which names are good enough.”

Notably, only the common English names of birds will change, since scientific names — which are traditionally in Latin — are governed by a rigid, universal set of rules that take into account evolutionary relationships between different species. (Latin designations taken from people’s names exist as well, such as Capito fitzpatricki for the Sira barbet, a Peruvian bird named after Dr. Fitzpatrick.)

The decision to change common names of birds “makes perfect sense” to Mr. Cooper, whose fame has led him to hosting a National Geographic birding show. “There’s no reason to have a person’s name attached to a bird, because it doesn’t tell you anything about the bird,” he said.

Mr. Cooper mentioned the Wilson’s warbler, a canary songbird with a characteristic black cap. Changing the name to something “like black-capped warbler,” he said, would give birders a better idea of what to look for.

But to Jerry Coyne, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Chicago who is an avid birder, the need for more descriptive names did not seem pressing. Performative acts like this “are really deeply injurious to science,” he said. “We cannot go back through the history of science and wipe out everybody who was not a perfect human being.” Dr. Coyne added that the effort to update so many names would be better invested in something more impactful to society, such as teaching underprivileged children about birds.

The American Ornithological Society plans to pilot a renaming program next year, starting with around 10 birds. Eventually, the program will expand to address all namesake birds in the United States and Canada, and then move on to avian species in Central and South America, which is the extent of the society’s naming jurisdiction.

Carlos Daniel Cadena, an ornithologist at the University of the Andes in Colombia and a leader of the English Bird Names Committee, expects the changes to entail a slight learning curve but also present a new opportunity for the public to bond over birds.

“It’s going to be a level playing field where we all need to learn together,” Dr. Cadena said.

He noted that the process might be adjusted for birds in Latin American countries, where people commonly refer to them by their scientific names.

With thousands of species across the Americas, birds are as diverse as the communities that cherish them. “Birds are by far the most accessible and beloved feature in biodiversity worldwide,” said Dr. Fitzpatrick. He added that more colorful names for these creatures would heighten “the ease by which new birders of every stripe” can enjoy them.

[ukrfeminism]

Families of children left disabled by an epilepsy drug and women injured by pelvic mesh implants should be given urgent financial help, England's patient safety commissioner has said.

Dr Henrietta Hughes has called on the government to act quickly to help victims of the two health scandals.

It follows a review which found lives had been ruined because concerns about some treatments were not listened to.

Ministers say they will consider and respond to the recommendations.

Dr Hughes's role was created to look into the scandals surrounding the drug sodium valproate and pelvic mesh implants.

She told the BBC: "These families weren't listened to by a system that really turned its back, and fobbed them off with information which led to them not only being harmed, but thousands of others being harmed."

What is sodium valproate?

Sodium valproate is an effective medication for epilepsy and bipolar disorder.

If the drug is taken during pregnancy it can cause major birth defects, but for decades women were not properly warned about the risks.

An estimated 20,000 children were exposed to the drug while in the womb and many live with neurodevelopmental disorders, such as autism.

What is pelvic mesh?

For years, pelvic mesh was considered to be the gold standard treatment for incontinence and prolapse in women.

However, the net-like implant can erode and harden, cutting through tissue and causing serious pain.

Thousands of women who have experienced life-changing complications have lost their mobility, relationships and jobs.

Scientific papers from as early as the 1980s suggested valproate medicines were dangerous to developing babies, yet warnings about the potential effects were not added to some packaging until 2016.

Some families affected have been campaigning for decades to raise awareness of the potential effects of the drug, with some calling for compensation and a public inquiry.

Dr Hughes was asked by the government to look into a potential compensation scheme for those affected by that scandal, as well as the one involving some 10,000 women who were injured by their pelvic mesh implants - a treatment for pelvic organ prolapse (POP) and incontinence.

Some women were left in permanent pain, unable to walk, work or have sex.

Figures suggest there were 127,000 mesh implants to treat incontinence and POP between April 2008 and March 2017, but campaigners believe the actual number is higher.

Dr Hughes has recommended initial payments of £100,000 should be made to victims of the sodium valproate scandal and £20,000 to women injured by mesh implants.

This should be followed by further payments for some, as well as some non-financial assistance to victims and their families, Dr Hughes said.

'Scandal bigger than thalidomide'

Dr Hughes told the BBC she believed the sodium valproate scandal was "bigger than thalidomide" - referring to the severe birth defects caused by a morning-sickness drug, which was licensed in the 1950s in the UK.

"I've heard so many heartbreaking stories about the problems they're having in terms of getting access to the medical care that they need, but also the impact that it's had on the parents who have had to give up their work, give up their businesses and stay at home and care for their children," Dr Hughes said.

She said many of those born with disabilities - known as foetal valproate syndrome - had been unable to work or look after themselves as adults.

She said a redress scheme was "a question of justice" for families who had "been fighting for years or even decades".

Failure to help victims of the scandal would show "a callous disregard for the pain and the suffering" of those harmed, Dr Hughes said.

'Guilt' for taking epilepsy drug

Emma Friedmann, whose son Andy was born with foetal valproate syndrome, said she felt guilty about her son's condition.

"It's the guilt of taking the pills. It's the guilt of not asking enough questions. It's the guilt of becoming pregnant. It's the guilt of believing your doctors. It's the guilt of not being able to provide for your family."

Andy, now aged 25, is unlikely ever to live independently and is more like a six-year-old, his mother said.

Ms Friedmann said she was not hopeful she would receive any compensation and that her trust "can never be fixed".

"This is what makes me upset - that these people have known for so long and they are still resisting doing things."

She said she had found it difficult to cope emotionally, at times.

The government now says the drug should not be given to women or girls of childbearing age, except in special circumstances.

Even now, about three babies a month are born with developmental disorders and physical abnormalities after foetal exposure to the drug.

'Severe pain' from mesh

The initial review in 2020 concluded that the suffering caused by pelvic mesh had also been entirely avoidable, caused by failings in the health system and not heeding families' warnings.

Dr Hughes told the BBC many women who have been injured by the mesh have suffered, need wheelchairs and have to "pay a fortune" to travel to hospital appointments.

"It just adds insult to injury," she said.

Sadie Lambourne, from Yeovil, told the BBC she had lost her independence because of injuries sustained by her mesh implant.

She said she was advised by a surgeon to have it fitted to treat incontinence. After a few years, she said she began to suffer severe pain in her lower back and had many infections.

"The mesh had eroded through into my bladder, causing all the infection and pain," she explained.

Sadie had to give up working because she could not stand or sit for long periods, and her teenage children now help her shower and get into bed.

"I'm not able to be a mum for them," she said.

"We are living hand-to-mouth and we don't go on holiday.

"A redress scheme would mean I don't need to worry.

"If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have had the mesh."

Health Secretary Victoria Atkins told BBC Breakfast that the government had "listened to women who have gone through this horrific ordeal".

She said Dr Hughes's report was being looked at by ministers "very, very carefully" and the government will require some time to come forward with some "meaningful recommendations and proposals" in response to both scandals.

[lorei-writes]

Hi Lorei 💜 I saw that you had this event going and I couldn’t resist sending a request 😭 Can I request for a “kiss” with Hideyoshi? 👉🏻👈🏻 Please and thank you!

Gladly!

Hideyoshi x Reader Fluff Content Warnings: none

His favourite indulgences.

Light that never ceases to shine. Hideyoshi is just as loyal as he is reliable, he is considerate, caring, warm... Tireless, despite the daily exhaustion. He is selfless, always ready to serve you, even if he himself could benefit from attention. He will not seek indulgences... But he enjoys them nonetheless.

You know he'd refuse it if you were to attempt to spoil him rotten, so you have to plan small. It is nothing grand -- just Hideyoshi, you, and your bed, all together, all at night. You start with a kiss to his forehead, the scent of tobacco still lingering in his hair. You move down to his ear, to his cheek. You peck his jaw. Hideyoshi opens one eye and sends you a questioning glance.

"Lay on your stomach. I'll give you a back rub."

"I--"

"Please."

Hideyoshi does as you ask of him. He takes his arms out of the sleeves of his yukata, the fabric falling down to reveal his back. Various marks litter his skin, and although you wish to rush to the more pleasant part of your scheme, there is still work ahead of you.

Initially, his body protests against your ministrations. Hideyoshi bites back a groan as you press your fingers into a particularly sore muscle, only his position preventing him from fleeing on instinct. You push again -- you need for him to melt in your hands. Only then can you proceed to the second phase.

Your lips lower to the nape of his neck, your breath alarming him of your intentions. It doesn't matter. It is already too late. You kiss him, your lips trailing a path down his spine... Over any scar, any mole, any mark you can find. Down, then back to his shoulder blades. Just about anywhere, all until he laughs quietly, tickled by your hair.

You move to lay by his side, innocent as ever, unapologetic and smug. Hideyoshi redresses himself and you watch, proud of the faint flush colouring his face.

I failed at the short part again, pardon me. I suppose I missed writing him a little bit.

Love me, Love me, how would you love me?

--

Tag list: @violettduchess @cilokgoang

[soapver4]

Gardening in a Stone Economy

Remake + ○●-Severance hybrid idea: A data science enthusiast is economically compelled to settle for a Go job in her alternate reality, where costs for higher-level computational processing like her original specialty are exorbitant due to resource depletion, AlphaGo and the like have not been invented and organizations resort to mind-control headsets that translate the logic in mundane onscreen work to gameplay logic. These headsets fortuitously use materials not yet in scarcity in that world. The closer the work meets end goals and procedural standards, the better the mentally displayed Go game progresses. The purpose of the translation is two-fold: 1) achieve watertight protection of commercial secrecy and 2) boost employee motivation in a compact, non-graphics-intensive manner.

But since even Go experts may falter on bad-hair days, work protocols limit employees to a small range of moves for each narrowly defined game scenario, which means office jobs still induce yawns regardless of one's fondness of Go. Worse, workers spend years in Go academies only to face potential skill attrition in autonomous analytical and strategic thinking and in solution creativity as they work round the clock in this manner until elderhood.

Intelligence and knowledge perish sooner than one's capacity for altruism, provided the will for the latter lasts. Faced with the same bleak circumstances, some strive to rise above their station in life in a self-determined sense by not only enduring the grind with increasing grit (as far as self-care permits) and rallying around their teams but also extending comradeship and empathy to everyone, whereas some help themselves Misaeng villain-style to what they see as substitute additional compensation: corporate moneys and female playthings.

The heroine stoically sticks to the former approach, Misaeng hero-style. Her spiritual counsel is a set of principles from her data science days:

Garbage in, Garbage out: How much do you trust ethical decision-making founded on empty stomachs, sleep-deprived brains and hatred-consumed memories? Don't ill-treat yourself yet expect to be unfailingly seen as a good grid conqueror. Don't ill-treat your co-workers yet expect unfailing support from them when you slip into a needy position. (But don't expect sympathy either if you cite your reception of ill treatment as justification for your ill treatment of someone. When people are struggling to escape your claws, they do not have the cognitive bandwidth to analyze your personal history.)

Actionable Insights: Endlessly regurgitating negative experiences you are powerless to redress through yourself or through others perpetuates the pain, although perpetual flashbacks are sometimes passive phenomena individuals are powerless to stop. Look out for facts you can act on. For example, do you feel more irritable as the night thickens? How about investing in a cozy LED lamp to boost your enemy-encircling efficiency after dusk? Does your brain come alive during the dull workday only during lunch? How about snacking on colorful berries as you move your stones?

Watch out for Outliers: See beyond immediate gratification and momentary bruises to the ego for the full picture. While do-no-gooders collect future lawsuits, festering grudges, and other ticking time-bombs, you plot your narrowing financial distance to your dreams for each day of hardship or plot your growing insights into multifaceted human nature for each negotiation on fair game allocation.

Mindful Annotation: A small act of kindness can be a quick glow-up and perk-me-up. A small thought for others can be respite from the prison of your own anxieties. In contrast, don't you ever wonder why various screen characters pursue evil as a vocation only to look perpetually stressed and on the guard? What begin as petty comparison and moderate insecurity in those series blow up into messy huge schemes and constant paranoia. Real-life victims may believe, too, that their thirst for justice outlasts perpetrators' feelings of dominion and thrill. Moreover, workplace guidelines and public discourse are increasing on honest stone laborers' side.

Self-care and self-improvement do not imply surrendering to an unhealthy work-life arrangement. The ending reminds us of this as the heroine runs along rooftops above congested streets to submit a labor reform petition on time. We see in parallel a sequence of her leaping between roofs and another of Misaeng's protagonist doing nearly the same, except that a wide anti-suicide net visibly hangs between her roofs. There is no shame in valuing her life.