#task management in manufacturing

[utilxtasktrackingapp]

It's always a challenge to get real time completion status of small or large activities in manufacturing companies. Utilx is very effective communicating tool between top level management and floor managers.

[starlit-mansion]

2am coffee made me wicked and vile

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Throwback

Male Triceratops Hybrid Alpha Yandere x Gender Neutral Capybara Hybrid Omega Reader

CW: Noncon, painful to pleasureable sex, mild violence (not towards reader), time travel, sexism, breeding, impregnation, pheromones, a/b/o, musk, scent marking, scent kink, sucking on dem big man titters, biting, bite marking, claiming, exceptionally huge dick, reader inflated with copious cum, knotting

Word Count: 1.9k

(Sometimes I get stuck on WIPs and have to do something new to write again. I wrote this in two days. Hope y'all like it! Please feed me with comments ❤️)

You were an omega demi-human. Part capybara, though the only evidence of this was your soft ears. More importantly, you were a quantum physicist. Currently, you were studying and recreating what you thought to be a time travel device. Your thoughts and theories had been dismissed entirely by your peers. It didn't help at all that you were an omega. Omegas working in academia were almost universally harassed, derided, and treated with condescension. As if their omega brains couldn't work at the same level as betas and alphas.

But even if it wasn't some type of device for traveling through time it was certainly alien to the time period from which it originated. It was made of advanced alloys and components that had been flattened, buried, and heavily corroded over time. The rock in which it was embedded in was older than any ancient society.

You had been working on manufacturing a functional copy of the artifact for years. Shmoozing up eccentric rich fucks, getting help from the exceedingly few colleagues who would help you in any way, slowly analyzing every detail and carefully bringing it all together. And at long last it was complete. The zenith of your career was at hand. And after some cautious testing that you conducted privately, it was ready to show to others.

You managed to get a spot at a small conference, though you had lied about the subject on which you would be speaking, and by the time it was your turn most of the audience had left. Not many academics cared what an omega had to say. Let alone one with a reputation for being a crackpot. But there were still enough of your fellow scientists and this would all be on video.

Instead of introducing the topic of your presentation, which would be a surefire way to lose what people were still watching, you opted for wheeling out your machine onto the stage and stepping in. With a deep breath, you booted it up and the entire contraption disappeared with a flash.

When you exited the machine there was an immediate problem. You stepped out of the machine into a forest with giant trees and flowers. You had only intended to go back a minute to when your presentation started but had made an error. You turned around to step back in but something pulled you backwards by your rear. You fell back and saw before you a humongous man charging at your time machine. He wore only a ragged fur loincloth and swung a massive club. He looked human except for his size, thick tail, scaled arms, and three horns on his head. One large horn from each temple and a small one extending from my nose.

You looked on in horror as he swung a mighty club down upon your only way back to your own time, repeatedly smashing it down until it resembled the exact shape of the artifact that had been excavated in your time. The relic that you had fashioned your own machine after. That wasn't what your attention was on, however. You were much more focused on getting away from the raging beast of a man who could flatten metal so easily.

Though with his task of destroying the frightening affront to nature that had appeared from nowhere now complete, he turned his attention to you. He shouted at you in a language you didn't understand, though his intent was clear. He had a massive erection sticking out from his loincloth and aggressively sniffing at your neck after picking you up with unexpected care.

With exertion of great willpower, the trike-man managed to not breed you silly right there in the forest. Your pheromones were driving him nearly feral. Modern-day omega pheromones were many times more potent than any prehistoric omega. They had evolved through millennia to pique the interest of choosy alphas despite the steep competition, an evolutionary arms race to try to snag an alpha.

That wasn't the only appealing trait. You were exotic, had cute little furry ears on your head, and you were so small, couldn't fight back and act all defiant like the omegas from his time.

You did struggle though. You had seen his arousal and could still smell it. Almost anything would be better than being violated in such a manner by such a hulking brute. He chuckled at your struggles, they were successful only in tiring you out. On the long way to his lair, between your squirming, kicking, and punching, you had gathered that his name was Orryg. At least you thought it was. He did not speak English, but he gestured at himself and seemed to be trying to give you his name.

He found your struggles kinda cute, mistaking them for an eagerness to escape his grasp and get on with taking his cock already. Omegas were so silly.

"Don't worry. Going to breed you plenty. Better in a secluded place."

You had no idea what he said, but his voice was deep and sounded angry so you could only assume it was something in annoyance at your struggles so you went limp. The giant man could snap you like a twig if he wanted to, best not to make him too upset. And honestly, even if you did escape, where the fuck would you go? What if Orryg wasn't the worst thing prowling about in the time period?

The walk went on for a while, with Orryg giving you an occasional lick or mumbling out some words you didn't have any hope of understanding. After a fair amount of time, Orryg stopped to sniff the air. Suddenly there was a roar from behind.

Orryg turned the two of you around just in time for him to take his club and smack it into a man who was every bit as huge as he was. Swatting him away easily despite being similar in size and build.

This one had sharp teeth and clawed fingers. He spat blood and growled. Orryg regarded him with a scowl.

"Udvik! You know this is trike territory!!"

"Omega smells good, not claimed yet. Thought I'd try..."

"Go before I smash you! This is MINE!"

Udvik spat again and hobbled off. But your suspicions had been confirmed, there were definitely things other than Orryg to be worried about in this time period. You were pretty shaken up seeing a half-dino man jumping at you and watching your captor fight him off. With those teeth it had clearly been no herbivore, it probably would have slaughtered you. Your fear must have been evident in your scent because Orryg held you tighter and nuzzled you.

"That battle got my blood flowing, really need to fuck you. Sorry if it scared you, I'll breed you all better. Almost home."

You continued to have zero idea what the hell he was saying. But you figured with the nuzzling it was something comforting. Though your ability to figure anything out was pretty absent by this point. Your brain was soup. All the anxiety and adrenaline and alpha pheromones had finally gotten to you. You looked at the ground in a stupor as he continued to carry you over his shoulder.

The next thing you were consciously aware of was him entering the cave with you and placing his club at the entrance. He laid down on a slab of stone covered in thick layers of soft furs and placed you on top of his muscled body. Before you had any chance to react he began administering attention to your sensitive neck. You squirmed involuntarily, writhing in pleasure on top of him from the neck stimulation alone.

If that wasn't enough, you were practically drowning in his musk. You had been since you entered his dwelling, the cave was saturated in it, but now he was forcing your head under his arm and making you drink it all in. Smearing your face with it and marking you with his smell. Slick was leaking out of your needy hole and pooling on his abs.

"I knew this would make you feel better."

The trance you were in was only partially broken once you felt the blunt head of his much too-large member press against your hole.

"W-wait! I don-"

But he had no idea what you were saying, and even if he did he knew you'd love his dick so much that you wouldn't protest for long. At this point, you were going to be his... no matter what.

You yelped in pain as he pressed into you, spreading you like none of your toys ever had. He swallowed your shout by pressing his mouth into yours, trying to distract you from the pain with a sloppy kiss before attending to your neck again. Despite every instinct telling him to just ram in and ravage you he restrained himself knowing that doing otherwise could seriously injure you.

"Ah!"

Even with his care it still hurt as he slowly eased his prick all the way into you, he rubbed the outline of his cock through your tummy. Lucky for you omegas were extremely stretchy and pliant.

Orryg slowly thrust back and forth inside you as he hungrily took in your scent. As more precum dribbled into you and mixed with your slick you took him easier and the pain slowly began to ebb away and was eventually replaced almost entirely by pleasure. You moaned softly into his chest as you bit at his pec and sucked his nipple while he kept digging his cock into you.

Your whole body shook and spasmed for a solid minute as you came more intensely than you ever had before. Orryg grunted as the feeling of your body convulsing around him brought him nearly to his climax. The trike man upped the pace just a bit, his heavy balls smacking into you before he started knotting inside you and pumping you full of his virile spunk. One small mercy was that his knot was only a bit thicker than the rest of his cock, not over two times as wide like a modern alpha.

The volume of semen was such that it made you look heavy with child, which you certainly would be after lovemaking like this.

Now that you had been well and truly fucked there was only one thing left for your brand new "husband" to do to really seal the deal. He, with great caution, buried his fangs into your neck to mark you permanently as his to everyone who might see you. Which would be more than you might expect. This was Orryg's outpost, he stayed there while on patrol, but he usually lived with his herd.

It would be a hard adjustment for you to make. You would constantly be under Orryg's watchful gaze or the guard of his tribemates when he went to go hunt or if he went to do things too dangerous for you to be with him. You'd never be alone. Even in the safety of the herd, Orryg would obsessively treat you like something fragile. You would have to adjust your diet to what they ate, mostly fruit and vegetables though they ate meat too, though nothing was familiar to you. You would have to slowly learn their language so you could eventually communicate with the new society that "adopted" you.

But it was okay if it took you a while to get settled, you had all the time in the world.

[anghraine]

I've been trying to think of a less harsh way to put it, but every time I see an ostensible expert say that Mr Bennet and Darcy have the same social position and the only difference between them is that Darcy has more money, it's like ... um, either this person doesn't know what they're talking about or assumes their audience is so unsophisticated and ignorant that they can't handle the slightest degree of nuance.

Yes, it's obvious why this always comes up with P&P specifically, and explaining all the many differences and gradations in socioeconomic hierarchies between then and now is a steep task and not always necessary or useful. But Darcy and Mr Bennet are both untitled hereditary landowners. This means they have the same rank, yes—the technicality Elizabeth uses with Lady Catherine—but it also means that their status, incomes, reach of influence, and general consequence in their world are going to be primarily based on their inherited land, not that all these things except income would be functionally identical in their social world.

Awhile ago, I quoted a fairly concise description of England's class system at the time by the historian Dorothy Marshall, made decades ago, but—unusually—managing to convey some of the RL complexity around social position without belaboring the point too much. One of the most critical points she makes is this:

In spite of the number of people who got their living from manufacture or trade, fundamentally it was a society in which the ownership of land alone conveyed social prestige and full political rights.

The difference between someone like Mr Bennet and someone like Darcy in terms of socioeconomic power and status (often termed "consequence" at the time) is inevitably going to be more about hereditary land ownership than any other factor, including incomes and connections. Their incomes provide important information about the scale and value of the land they own, but wealth alone only tells a portion of the story here.

[thedensworld]

Guilty Flower | C.Sc

Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, slow burn

Summary: Seungcheol accepted his mother offer to meet you, his potential future wife said his mother, without knowing what kind of person you are.

Seungcheol, a man of countless responsibilities, found himself entangled in a web of anticipation. With a laundry list of 99 tasks to tackle, the last thing he desired was to be kept waiting. Almost half an hour had slipped away, and there was no sign of you. No message from his diligent secretary, Chan, indicating a cancellation. An internal sigh escaped him, a realization dawning that perhaps he was being overly considerate to a stranger.

His mother, insistent as ever, had urged him to meet you—Moon Y/n, a woman she'd encountered in a cooking class unbeknownst to Seungcheol. Information trickled in about your professional life, as a member of the Moon clan overseeing a significant conglomerate, Nova AutoWorks, headed by none other than your brother, Moon Junhui. The context lent some leniency to your tardiness.

With reluctance, Seungcheol reached for his phone, dialing Chan's number. He notified him of his imminent departure, resigning himself to the fact that dinner would remain elusive. Tonight's mood was effectively soured, all thanks to you.

Not one to retreat immediately, he sought refuge in his office, determined to chip away at the looming workload. Chan's competence was evident, yet Seungcheol couldn't resist the urge to scrutinize every detail before the dawn of the next day.

Morning light filtered into his office, accompanied by the fragrance of fresh blooms. Chan entered, bearing a bountiful bucket of flowers. Seungcheol rose from his chair, fingers tracing the sender's name on the accompanying note—Moon Y/n. An apologetic message nestled within, explaining your absence.

Seungcheol's brows knitted in contemplation. Was it common for a man to receive such a gesture? His mother's adoration for you, forged in the fires of their shared culinary pursuits, would surely wilt upon learning of last night's disappointment.

Chan, sensing the internal conflict, began to offer a solution. "If you'd prefer, I can get rid of these," he suggested, but Seungcheol intercepted the offer with a raised hand, his thoughts tangled in uncertainty. It seemed wasteful to discard such a gift, yet he was decidedly unversed in the language of flowers.

With a tentative query, he asked Chan if he possessed any proficiency in tending to such flora. Chan's surprise was palpable. "You'd like me to arrange them in a vase?" he confirmed.

Seungcheol inclined his head, the question resolved. "Is that the protocol for these... specimens?" he inquired, met with an affirming nod from Chan.

"Yes, sir. We'll supply them with water and ensure it's changed regularly. Any withering leaves, we remove; it prolongs their bloom," Chan elucidated, his tone adopting an air of expertise.

Seungcheol absorbed the guidance, a silent signal to his capable secretary to undertake the task. "And," he added before Chan could retreat with the bouquet, "once you've tended to them, kindly place them upon my desk."

Chan nodded crisply. "Of course, sir. It won't take more than five minutes." The words lingered in Seungcheol's mind, leaving him to ponder the unexpected role of a flower in his evening.

*

As you step out of the car, the clatter of your discarded helmet and gloves punctuates your frustration. The manufacturing manager, Kim Mingyu, approaches swiftly, sensing the gravity of the situation. Your face bears the weight of your anger, but you temper it with a cold composure as you lock eyes with him.

"You know exactly what needs to be said," you remark, your voice steady, arms crossed in stern resolve. The anniversary event looms, a mere two months away, yet the persistent recurrence of errors threatens to jeopardize its success.

Mingyu's gaze remains lowered, an acknowledgment of his accountability. He mumbles a conciliatory admission, his eyes shifting to the car that, in your estimation, still falls short of the masterpiece it should be.

Another sigh escapes your lips, laden with the weight of responsibility. "And what of our previous manufacturing vendor?" you press, seeking alternatives. Mingyu shakes his head, delivering the sobering news that even the best option has been snatched up by Hyundai, leaving PrecisionTech struggling to accommodate your intricate design.

Silent curses swirl in your mind for your brother's penchant for complexity and your ensuing burden. Not only must you ensure the flawless completion of this project, but you're also tasked with surpassing last year's anniversary event.

Your thoughts shift to the impending meeting with the vendor handling the anniversary launch, a critical milestone for both the car and your family's legacy.

"Innomatic, from the Seventeen Series," you suggest, memories of past successes with the company resurfacing. "Can we collaborate with them again?"

Mingyu's response brings a flicker of hope. "I believe so. Although, I'm not sure if Seungcheol is still overseeing it. He's now the COO."

Your brows arch inquisitively. "Choi Seungcheol?"

Mingyu nods, providing the confirmation that Choi Seungcheol holds a pivotal role at InnoCorp. He elaborates on the potential benefits of rekindling the partnership with Innomatic, drawing on their previous triumphs with the Seventeen Series.

Without further ado, you stride away, leaving Mingyu to ponder your sudden departure. Pulling out your phone, you dial your trusted assistant, Seo Myungho, whose loyalty has been unwavering for half a decade.

"I need you to cover for me," you implore, the urgency evident in your tone.

A scoff precedes Myungho's response. "I do it every day."

Your request takes an unexpected turn, one that elicits laughter from Myungho, followed by a barely stifled chuckle. "You claimed zero interest just last night."

A sigh escapes you, your fingers threading through your hair. "I know, and I am. But circumstances have shifted. I'll explain later. Just send him something... an email, an invitation to brunch, a thoughtful souvenir, or perhaps our exclusive repairment voucher. Please, please, please!"

You can almost hear the mischievous grin in Myungho's voice as he agrees, reveling in your unusual request, "it's refreshing to hear you begging like this, Y/n. Alrighty, I'll handle this easy-peasy task."

*

Seungcheol gestured towards the plush couch in his office, inviting you to take a seat. After a week of correspondence through emails, you finally found yourself face to face with Choi Seungcheol—the man who had been your beacon of hope. He was also the one you had inadvertently stood up on a date.

Politely declining the offer of a drink from his secretary, you turned to face Seungcheol, who occupied a chair arranged for him.

"I've reviewed your proposal to collaborate with Innomatic, but I believe a more in-depth discussion is in order, given our previous decision to decline Hyundai's offer. We need to ensure our alignment in the automotive industry, Ms. Moon," Seungcheol stated, his gaze steady and intent.

You reached for another file you had brought along, presenting the sales report and insights from the previous Nova-Innomatic venture. "Indeed, Mr. Choi. Based on this sales report and our collaboration history, I believe it's advantageous to build upon the strong foundation we've established."

Seungcheol perused the report before placing it on the table, leaning back and fixing his gaze on you. "I wouldn't characterize our relationship as 'good terms,' Ms. Moon."

The mention of the Nova Seventeen Series gave you pause. Suddenly, it dawned on you what he was alluding to. You promptly bowed, apologizing for the date you had flaked on.

"I'm sincerely sorry about that," you admitted, acknowledging your lapse in etiquette.

Seungcheol's response was a measured nod. "I waited for... nearly an hour. A significant stretch of time, particularly for individuals with demanding schedules, wouldn't you agree, Ms. Moon? Nonetheless, I appreciated the gesture the following morning."

You nodded, inwardly grateful that you had delegated the situation to Myungho. "Thank you. It was a memento from our previous collaboration—"

"I've taken to adorning my office with flowers. They're both aesthetically pleasing and calming," he interjected, motioning to a vase of blooms on the nearby table. Your curiosity piqued. What variety of flowers were they?

"I'm sorry?" you mumbled, slightly taken aback.

Seungcheol acknowledged your confusion with a nod. "You sent me flowers the next day. It was... the first time I'd received such a gift," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of reticence.

Your own words tumbled out in response, "I sent you flowers? Yes, I did. I'm glad they found favor with you," you replied, offering a sincere smile.

A smile you replicated every time you contemplated seeking retribution against Seo Myungho.

*

Seungcheol sat in an odd calmness amidst the lively banter of his friends. His fingers absently twirled the whiskey in his glass, his thoughts far from the story Jeonghan was sharing. It was Jisoo's sharp slap on his arm and ensuing laughter that snapped him back to reality, a stark contrast to Seungcheol's own demeanor.

Jeonghan's playful annoyance flared up. "I just told a hilarious tale about Soonyoung. How did you not crack a smile, Seungcheol?"

Seungcheol blinked, downing the contents of his glass in one swift motion. "I'm sorry, my mind's preoccupied at the moment," he admitted, setting the glass down.

Jisoo's smirk danced across his face. "I'd wager it's not work-related," he quipped, piquing Jeonghan's curiosity. "Work never troubles Choi Seungcheol. My dad even calls him the 'Jesus of InnoCorp.'"

The comparison made Seungcheol cringe. "What on earth does that mean?"

Jeonghan scoffed. "It means you're the savior of InnoCorp. You could be my Jesus too, Seungcheol."

"Does that imply Seungcheol has to make a sacrificial offering for you?" Jisoo chimed in, earning a casual shrug from Jeonghan.

"He saved me from a call to my dad's worker, if you must know," Jeonghan clarified, alluding to Seungcheol's initial role in the family business before his venture into the entertainment industry.

"So," Jeonghan clapped his hands to recapture their focus, "is this about the woman your mom set you up with?"

"She stood you up, didn't she?" Jisoo interjected. Seungcheol's brows furrowed, while Jeonghan gasped in astonishment.

"How did you know?" Seungcheol inquired, surprised at how swiftly the news had circulated within their circle.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan's irritation flared. He was entirely in the dark about the specifics of this supposed meeting. "Hold on a minute!"

"I heard it from Chan when I called him a few days back," Jisoo clarified, recounting the tale of Seungcheol's foiled date from a week prior, as if Seungcheol were a spectator to his own story.

"Moon Y/n, President Moon's daughter? The businesswoman? I can't fathom how President Moon managed to pass on his business acumen to all his children, while my father bequeathed me nothing but a stubborn streak," Jeonghan remarked, shaking his head in mild exasperation.

Jisoo chuckled. "Dokyeom is her friend, and he's spoken highly of her since their college days. She's our junior, Seungcheol," he revealed, prompting a raised brow from Seungcheol.

"She is?" Seungcheol queried, the revelation sinking in.

His lips pressed into a thin line as a flurry of questions about you crowded his mind:

1. What compelled his mother to be so insistent on introducing you?

2. Why did you stand him up on their date, only to send flowers the next day?

3. Why did the mere thought of you leave him feeling oddly fluttery?

4. Could this all be part of a strategic move, considering your interest in Innomatic?

"Out with it, Choi Seungcheol! Not everyone's a mind-reader," Jisoo chided, delivering a playful slap on his arm, a gesture he'd made more than once that evening—surely a sign of his inebriation.

Jeonghan, ever the perceptive one, added, "I can read about 50% of it, though. And right now, it's likely about Y/n."

Seungcheol chuckled, waving off Jeonghan's words. "Quiet, you two. I was merely contemplating something..."

"What if..." he began hesitantly, "someone were to send you flowers?" Seungcheol asked, addressing his two friends with a touch of uncertainty.

"Condolence flowers?" Jisoo's response made it clear he was thoroughly inebriated. Meanwhile, Jeonghan gasped dramatically, chanting, "She sent you flowers?!"

"Dude, she's a keeper. She's got you... She's definitely got you!" Jeonghan laughed, clearly unable to believe the turn of events.

Seungcheol regarded him with a bemused expression. "I'm not that easily swayed. I was just curious, is it commonplace for a woman to send flowers to a man? If so, then it was likely just her way of apologizing." Seungcheol explained slowly, but Jeonghan dismissed his words.

"But she's already won you over. I can tell, 100%. The moment you see her again, you'll be smitten. Trust me!"

*

Jeonghan's prediction had turned into an undeniable truth. Seungcheol's mother called him suddenly, requesting his presence to pick her up from her cooking class. Her request, however, entailed much more than a simple ride home; it involved a tasting session of the dishes she'd prepared, introductions to fellow classmates, and then their departure together. So, Seungcheol arrived promptly at the designated course building.

Upon his arrival, he discovered a scene of communal celebration, each student proudly presenting their meticulously prepared traditional Korean meals to their special guests. Standing by his mother's side, Seungcheol couldn't help but wonder if being here was indeed a wise decision.

Before the instructor could commence the class, a familiar figure entered the room. It was you, donning a striking white Etsy dress that complemented your complexion, exuding a unique blend of elegance and the commanding aura of a career-driven woman.

Did he just find you beautiful? No, it was more accurate to say he appreciated the beauty of your dress. Yes, that was it.

"Did you meet her on the date I arranged?" his mother discreetly inquired, to which Seungcheol simply nodded, now understanding her motive for summoning him here.

You swiftly made your way to the counter, offering an apology for your tardiness. As the class began, Seungcheol found himself stealing glances in your direction every few minutes, silently pondering why you had come alone.

"Will someone be picking you up later, Ms. Moon?" the instructor's voice carried clearly to Seungcheol's ears.

"I doubt it. My family members are quite busy," you replied with a light chuckle.

As his mother was called to present her creation, Seungcheol stood alone behind the counter, your eyes never once meeting his. It was as though you two had never crossed paths before, never shaken hands in agreement for the collaboration between your respective companies.

The instructor turned their attention to you. "Who have you brought with you today, Ms. Moon?"

You heard your answer, your gaze fixed on your dish, the instructor, anywhere but Seungcheol. Like the meeting and collaboration between the two of you had never happened.

Seungcheol's mother began to speak, "I brought my one and only son today. He used to complain that I never cooked for him when he was a child. That's why I worked hard to learn cooking, so I can prepare everything he wants now that I'm older."

Seungcheol couldn't help but steal another glance at you. He saw the gentle smile you directed at his mother. Unconsciously, he found himself mirroring your expression, a smile etched across his face until it was your turn to present your creation.

"You didn't bring anyone today, Ms. Moon. But could you share with us what inspired you to join our class? It's not often we have a young lady like yourself join us."

explained.

Seungcheol's gaze remained fixed on you, his ears attuned to every word that left your lips, your voice soft-spoken and gentle, a facet of your personality he'd noticed from the very first encounter.

"I've always loved home-cooked meals since I was a child. They remind me of the memories I shared with my grandmother. Sadly, no one in my family knows how to cook now. So, I thought it would be a good idea to learn to cook for myself," you explained.

Perhaps Seungcheol didn't understand how it all began. He might not have realized that his feelings for you had taken root from a simple flower you had sent him out of guilt. However, in that moment, he knew that his feelings for you had no intentions of finding an end.

*

Wednesday, July 26th

Seo Myungho: Chan, I don't think my boss will ever budge from her desk. She's knee-deep in wrapping up the end-of-month report!

Lee Chan: No way! My boss is already on his way :(

Seo Myungho: I just don't get why she agreed to the date in the first place if she wasn't interested! She clearly has a soft spot for your boss's mom, but not for your boss.

Lee Chan: But I swear, my boss is genuinely kind. He even told me to go home instead of waiting for him:(

Seo Myungho: Chan, that's just basic courtesy. Making sure you get home on time is what he should do.

Lee Chan: But he also surprised me with my favorite coffee and cookies this morning. He's seriously the sweetest boss ever.

Seo Myungho: Well, good for you. I can't relate at all -_-

Lee Chan: Anyway, my boss just arrived.

Lee Chan: Yo!

Lee Chan: Hyung, really :(

Thursday, July 27th

Seo Myungho: Chan! My phone died yesterday and I forgot to let you know. Turns out, my boss couldn't make it because she had a sudden bout of constipation!

Lee Chan: You're such a pain, hyung. It's all good though, I handled everything.

Seo Myungho: What do you mean?

Lee Chan: I'll fill you in later... Lunch at Kimbab Heaven?

Seo Myungho: Deal!

[harrison-armory-incorporated]

HERE COMES THE GILGAMESH - AND IT IS SUPERIOR, BY DESIGN.

<<LOADING COMPENDIUM ENTRY. . .>> <<FILE LOAD COMPLETE>> <<WELCOME VALUED CUSTOMER AND LICENSE HOLDER>>

The Gilgamesh is Harrison Armory's multirole Legionnaire model chassis, designed to be distributed to Armory legions and Acquisition & Management Teams across the Purview and beyond. Built to be fully compatible with numerous hardpoint-mounted tactical system enhancements and munitions, the Gilgamesh excels at no one task in particular, but its comprehensive modular construction and rugged engineering allow it to perform a variety of combat duties without difficulty within numerous theaters. Beyond the logistical efficiency of a standardized, easy to handle chassis meant to streamline both materiel concerns and aptitude training across multiple worlds and cultures, the Gilgamesh has another purpose as well; further reducing the Armory's remaining dependence on foreign-manufactured chassis designs, in particular the GMS Everest.

Some commissioned officers have a tendency to look down upon Gilgamesh pilots for using what they view as an unglamorous "trainer" chassis, but other commanders are fierce proponents of the design, even choosing to pilot it themselves in order to lead by example, and in certain regions of the Purview the Gilgamesh is regarded with as much admiration as more sophisticated models such as the Sherman.

You can pick up the Gilgamesh and learn about it's Many features ;; Here, Valued Customer.

[komsomolka]

One notable instance of this proxy war occurred in mid-September, when Ukrainian forces, in coordination with militant groups in Syria, including Al-Qaeda offshoot Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS - formerly known as Al-Nusra Front), launched a series of drone attacks on Russian military facilities in Syria. [...]

The operation involved Ukrainian private mercenaries called "Khimek,” affiliated with the Main Directorate of Ukrainian Intelligence, working alongside Idlib-based militants to target a drone production and testing site in the southeastern suburbs of Aleppo, according to a Kiev Post report on 18 September. The following day, further drone attacks were carried out on ten Syrian military positions in Aleppo, the southern Idlib countryside, and in northeastern Latakia. In early October, two major Russian military sites - the Hmeimim Base and a weapons depot near the coastal city of Jableh — were repeatedly targeted.

But these operations were not the first initiative aided by Ukrainian military and intelligence agents in Syria. On 26 July, in what militant forces described as a “devastating” and “complex” strike, they targeted Kuweires military airport in Aleppo's east, used as an airbase by Russian troops, one day after Russian President Vladimir Putin met with his Syrian counterpart Bashar al-Assad in Moscow.

The alliance between Ukrainian intelligence and Syrian militant groups, with support from NATO, is a relatively new but significant development. It began earlier this year, when a Ukrainian delegation visited Idlib to negotiate with the HTS leadership for the release of several Chechen, Georgian, and Uighur militants being held in HTS prisons — estimated at between 750 and 900 prisoners — to enlist as mercenaries for the Ukrainians. The concluded agreement involved the release of militants detained by HTS in exchange for 250 Ukrainian military experts providing training, particularly in the use of drones. The trainees include Turkmen Salafists tasked to manufacture drones and photograph potential Russian and allied Syrian military targets, particularly the 25th Division special forces and National Defense Forces in Hama, Aleppo, and Latakia. [...]

US military forces occupying northeastern Syria play a connection and transportation role in this setup. It is the main actor in managing these various conflict zones and coordinating the positions and cooperation of its proxies.

In early August 2024, the US facilitated the arrival of Ukrainian experts in areas near Jabal al-Zawiya in Idlib and helped transfer aircraft parts - in exchange for transporting extremist fighters, via US bases in Syria, to areas north of Donetsk Oblast. [...]

The militant groups themselves benefit from this alliance in several key ways. With Turkiye edging toward reconciliation with Syria, and Russian-Iranian military cooperation advancing, these groups are left increasingly vulnerable. Aligning with Ukraine and NATO provides them with new resources and support, ensuring their continued survival in the face of changing regional dynamics. The cooperation also offers Syrian extremists access to advanced technology, particularly in drone warfare, which has become a crucial element in their ongoing fight against Syrian and Russian forces.

[notbecauseofvictories]

So I watched Office Space (1999) tonight and honestly? Twenty-five years later, its take on what makes corporate drone life so horrible is sort of quaint. As though the height of corporate fuckery is uniforms, vacuous repetitive tasks, depriving you of a view, and subjecting you to the absurd, arbitrary whims of middle managers.

Quite frankly, that’s just a random Monday.

Comedy Central’s Corporate (2018-2020) is much more accurate---it taps into the sense that, in exchange for a steady paycheck, you buy into an enormous churning machine that grinds you down even as it takes huge bites out of the rest of the world. You can do nothing to stop this machine, just hope that you  wring some sense of meaning from it before it swallows you whole. Or even Apple’s Severance---which is about what someone else, someone you don’t know and will never know, agreed to on your behalf. There is no escaping from it or winning at it, no matter how many squeeze-balls or cozies they offer you. (What would “winning” even look like? You can’t even formulate an answer to that question, when your whole life is labyrinthine corridors and inexplicable mythology about the company’s founder.)

But really, I think of Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism---the idea that what we want, desperately, is someone to step up and take responsibility. Someone we can point to, blame, and till under with the new corn, etc. etc. But the center cannot hold and there is no falconer, there is no one. We orbit a gaping maw and it just won’t shut its jaws, let us go, and even if we murder the people shoving us towards the teeth it won’t help.

It’s not about company-mandated “flare.” Jennifer Aniston can pick another restaurant with a less prickish boss, of course she can---but she won’t escape. Neither will her manager. Neither will her manager’s manager, or the cattlefarmer, or the workers slaving to pick tomatoes, the workers at the factory that manufactures the buns, or the copywriting intern who gets coffee for the asshole who writes a flimsy knockoff of WHERE’S THE BEEF. The maw is hungry forever, it will demand to be sated forever, it will never die. There is no escape.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

By the way, if we had a proper communist party calling for a boycott of the election in the US, I would totally be saying "don't vote". The reason I'm not saying "don't vote" is the same reason I'm not saying "vote for X": the ballot box is not where you or I should be focusing our attention. We should be focused on organization. If you get organized in your community then it doesn't matter which right-wing capitalist wins the election because you will have the means to defend your community from capitalist aggression and to engage in truly effective political projects.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the ballot is not a political tool. It is the end result of politics within a democracy. It is the affirmation of the political decisions that came before it, it is the means through which the consent of the people is declared, whether that consent is real or manufactured. In a bourgeois democracy, it is entirely expected that the voice and interests of the working class will not be represented by the choices on the ballot. Even if we managed to convince everyone to vote for a radical Marxist party in a bourgeois election, that party would still be tasked with dismantling the bourgeois state and building a new proletarian one in its place, because the class character of the state remains unchanged no matter who holds office.

The interests of the working class can only be truly represented by a proletarian party, and they can only be truly served by a proletarian state. Since we do not yet have a proletarian party of any real merit or influence, our first task is to build that party. That means organization and that means education and that means agitation, regardless of who's on the ballot and regardless of who wins the election. Vote for whoever you like, just don't expect me to pretend you're doing me a favor by voting for the blue capitalist instead of the red capitalist.

[osakanone]

"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance. 

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

OR

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

--

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

[oldguydoesstuff]

Bare CPU Printed Circuit Board for the Alpha NT XL366 workstation I designed back in 1995 or so. This was an obscure model of an obscure product line, made by a company (Digital Equipment Corp.) that is now itself obscure. To be honest I don't even remember much about this machine now.

What I do remember is the HUUUUGE fight I got into with our Signal Integrity team while I was designing this, over decoupling capacitors.

Decoupling caps are small components that hold a charge to help even out power when a circuit is active. This board featured hundreds of them, smaller than a grain of rice (see photo comparison of mounting pads vs rice grain below).

Our Signal Integrity team was tasked with making sure everything was electrically stable, so they required many hundreds of these to be added to the board, based on power simulations they did. Trouble was, they wanted so many, we couldn't even build the board.

My job as the Systems Engineer here was to meet the requirements from the SI team, but also from manufacturing, and the requirement that my PCB layout techs don't go insane trying to place and route the board. SI really only cared about signal quality, so they would not relent, and I ended up getting shouted at at one point by a junior SI engineer who was also under a lot of stress, when I said "There are different schools of thought on this.." and he screamed THERE ARE NOT DIFFERENT SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT ON THIS!!

It got to the point where the product was not going to get built, because we just couldn't fit like a thousand of these tiny caps on the board, we needed to ditch at least 25% of them to have a hope. The models were the models though, and you couldn't argue against them.

But then my boss got a genius idea. What if we could prove the simulation models were too conservative? We came up with an experiment where we would remove caps from an older system and measure the power supply noise, to see how many caps could be taken off before the system became unstable.

Me and the junior SI engineer were tasked with doing this experiment (later deemed The Decapitation Project), so we grabbed a Tektronix scope and Metcal soldering station and headed over to this abandoned lab we had in our old Maynard headquarters, a now creepy attic space on the 6th floor of an old mill building. Here were a few older Alphastation 3000 workstations we built years earlier, working but waiting to be recycled.

We had this special program that would thrash the CPU within an inch of its life, to put a big demand on the power supply system. While this was running, the SI engineer measured the power quality, while I proceeded to (very carefully to avoid short-circuiting the system) actually desolder caps from the board while the workstation was running.

We managed to get about 1/3 of them off before there was any noticeable effect, and we found one specific type of cap was not doing much of anything at all. We took the data back to the head of the SI team, and he finally relented and let us remove several hundred capacitors. (He also buried the report and data I had, because he didn't want the bad publicity - I remember being mad about that)

The system got built after that, and worked just fine. We did try to enact a small bit of petty revenge on the SI team manager though - there was a recognition event for people involved on the project, and me and our PCB procurement guy decided to give the SI team manager a special "Faraday Award" for achievement in capacitance (Farads are a measure of capacitance - geeky eng joke). We took an old bowling trophy with a giant, beer-can sized electrolytic capacitor strapped to the top of it as the award. He was a no-show so we didn't get to present it. Those SI guys never did have much of a sense of humor.

Anyway, long story sorry. Just thinking of it recently because I was helping someone at work with an analog simulation and I remembered this..

[escaping-samsara]

No-Nylon Sock Yarn

This might be the hardest task for knitting without plastic. I’ve gone to some local stores and snooped around online looking for sock yarn and every time I do I get the same canned response.

“You know those will wear out, right?”

It’s easy to find 100% wool yarn, even non-superwash (yes superwash yarn contains plastic), but you’ll be darning them often if you wear them very much.

So is it fruitless? Well no, there are non-plastic alternatives to nylon that can give a yarn strength, such as mohair and silk. There are construction techniques too that a good sock yarn should have regardless. High ply-count and longer fiber strands, for example. BFL wool is notorious for its longer staple length, so does corriedale and targhee. And if the ply is 4 or more it will make for a better sock yarn foundation.

The most trouble I’ve run into now has been finding yarns that can fit this bill.

I’ve spent the past week trawling through Ravelry’s advance search for yarn, and the process has been slow and insightful. The more particular I search, “silk OR mohair, AND wool, AND NO manufactured fibers, 4-ply OR 5-ply+, AND NO superwash, AND not discontinued”, the less results I get. But still, there are results.

One would expect, with a search this tailored, you’d have at least a list of options, but I’ve still hit roadblocks. These come in two main forms: insufficient tagging or unavailable for purchase.

I cannot count how many times I’ve found a yarn that got me excited, only to click on the about page and read “80% SW Wool”. ‘SW’ meaning superwash. Or even worse, no mention of superwash on the about page, and then finding out the yarn is in fact superwash when I went to a retail listing. It makes me ask, if you’re using superwash wool, why not tag that as part of the care instructions so it can be searched through Ravelry? Why use superwash wool at all if you’re just going to recommend people handwash only?

The other pitfall is that these small dyers (as the majority of them are) don’t have the stock or have all together discontinued dying, yet haven’t updated their yarn’s about page to show it’s no longer available. Or, equally sad, when there’s simply no buying option available at all. Ravelry doesn’t always find every online store, so I try to look up the producer by name, and this sometimes gets me to an Etsy shop--But still, some yarns just seem to exist on their about page but nowhere else.

Still, I’ve managed to make a short list of yarns that pass the inspection and have some method for purchase. And honestly, all you need is one good product line for a lifetime of knitting if it fits all the bills. But I look at the number of yarns I could otherwise choose but are now discontinued (1/4th of them!) and wonder how long my current list will last.

So remember to support small dyers and yarn makers, and do your due diligence to make sure you’re getting the right product.

[redraven393]

watching The Wild Robot Let's gooo

sun is shining and girly is clearly a morning person-love the multilinggual introduction.

someone out there has just wasted what I assume must have been millions of dollars to get this state-of-the-art robot only for it to be stranded in the middle of NO WHERE.

she is every managers ideal sales person omg her Voice acting is soo good!

OPP Gilry NOO (hits by waves) GILRY CLIMB Like a Crab

OH MY GOD SHE CAN MAKE STIKERSS- and she give them to all them.

Rozzem is fukin overwhelmed. her city-girl vibe is not meshing well with the Wild life.

ohhh~ learning mode? guess we doing the talking animal things huh, but from what I see from the day and night cycle it at least took Rozzem 8 days to learn the Animal language.

ROZZEM HONEY NOOO- omg they are all assholes-Rozzem sounded so sad omg honey.

Zeus is being an asshole - the Raccoons are being Assholes!! >:(

OMG NATURE IS JUST BEING AN ASSHOLE TO HER T-T

all of this was just from the first 10 minutes of the movie holly shit.

----------------------

OMG WE KILLED A FAMILY T-T Rozzem is not catching a break

THE BABY!- GET THEM ROZZ-

A BABY!!!!- BABY - A BABBY

no wait Rozz honey you cant just left a new born baby what to heck.

that's what you get for ignoring a toddler Rozz, they break your shit.

I've seen this view a lot.

SHUT UP MOM THEIR ACTING IS ON POINT (also night shade salad?)

helo Pinktail- a mom friend Rozz need- OMG did someone die?- he lived YAY

The possum mom and her Kids are great

________________

Rozz a while ago: I need to go back I no longer have a task I CAN'T FUNCTION WITHOUT A TASK so I must left this newborn

PinkT a tired mom of 7: oh honey being a mom is a full-time task

Rozz immediately committed to be a mom: :D happy to serve my task

___________

Rozz Honey, please be gentle with the newborn. oh shit, it's the FOX, what do you want FINK-local Goose EXPERT?

Rozz please tell your manufacturer to add some self-preservation program in you the next time you see them FINK PLEASE AT LEAST HELP THE CHILD

oh yeah no one has named the newborn yet

"Kindness is not surviving skill" The audience would remember that and judge you when the time comes.

OMG Rozz you cant just admit to murder like that get a lawyer first at least

OMG BABY NOOO- oh yeah Rozz? and launching the Baby into the air like last time is???

NEW HOME Project Let's GOO- omg that is a big hole, man is gonna be a cause to a plot point later I can tell.

BABY FIRST WORDS- love that the baby is learning by mimicking Roz & Fink's banter

Roz no you need to encourage the Baby

Yes-yes name for the baby! BRIGHTBILL

home finish, Fink is living that sugar baby lifestyle

it's not copying its taking inspiration you beaver!

Storytime for the baby!

for a fox that was so ready to kill the kid you sure do worry about their innocence Fink

ahh motherhood~

YOU CANT RUN FROM FATHERHOOD FINK- This is to heal your inner childhood

---------------

TIME SKIPS!!!!

oh-oh no- OH NO BRIGHTBILL NOO why cant you inherit you Fox!dad personality instead T - T

THE ROBOT NOISES!!!

oh but Roz did teach him another language POG

glad you're still here with us Fink- and they're not WEIR they are Special.

aww they are so close to one another thoug- omg she is raising him to be a scientist

hi PinkTail and Kids- are they your new litter Pink?

SWIM TIME!- FINK is fukin savage to our boy

it's a swim alright....- aww Roz your mothering Program is on point now- Roz~ you need to let your teenage son do things on his own for once

hi mr. Beaver- huh i didn't expect to find more of them in this island

it may have because my teen years is not that long time ago but GOD do I feel the secondhand cringe

of course! even in the wild we will find Bullies- OMG BB NOO- GO TO HIM, MOM!

SHUT UP YOU PUSSIES FUCKING RAN AT THE FIRST SIGHT OF ROZ

BB call Roz MOM!!- SHUT UP BEFORE I FUKIN HUNT YOU DOWN FOR DUCK SEASON- Fink you are so the GOAT man- BB that is not how you talk to your PARENTS

omg Mr. Beaver hi??? why are you holding a knife??? Mr.Beaver???

off Roz honey we need to get you back in the factory buddy-

oh no the Back story reveal- ahh the Teen angst moments

EYYO BB THAT IS TO FAR !!

------

Oh we're back at the crash site? ANOTHER ARM?? there were Other Robots in that POD???

HOLLT SHIT

huh so they reall are just mass-produced- so where are they going to anyway???

Hey other Roz! or Rummige? Rumi is what I gonna call you

Roz honey you need a fukin break or else you might just have a meltdown

----------------------

Roz, a tired mom to a teen goose: I have a Kid

Rumi, just being resurrected a minute ago: Girly Excuse me Wtf??

Rumi, flabbergasted by Roz's problem-solving idea: Gurl we were not meant to be a MOM

Roz still a tired goose Mom: I KNOW BUT I MUST

---------------------

OKAY BUT LIKE- shout out to Rumi who didn't even care that she wouldn't survive long, she just saw this fellow robot like her struggling and giving up her own way to be back home and prioritize Roz

Fink is struggling without his bodyguard but is willing to climb a fuk ass mountain to check up on Roz is just AGGAHJYGUIS.

EYY you're in this thing too Fox.

Aww Rozz you're great hon, don't let some teenager make you down like that.

UGH her voice!!! she sounded so longing to be needed!-

"Maybe there is someone small there that needs my help" roughly translated to "maybe there is someone out there that WANTS me to HELP" - IMCRYING OMG

uh oh, winter is coming - Fink really saying that BB has no friends

BB you ungrateful lil shit- tell em Fink.

wait Rozzie Honey if you could have learned the proper way for Geese to fly now why didn't you do the same with the swimming part, Rozzie??

aww i forgot Roz lost a leg :(

OLD MAN MR. PEDDLER YOU ARE THE GOAT

He's UP! - He's down - oh no, yeah Rozz you need that self-preservation program installed soon you either learn em yourself or imma break 4th wall to install it.

THUNDERBOLT! And yeah i love how Rozz is having more friends in the Island

BB gonna be flying like a fukin Predator bird this winter, those fukin bullies won't know what hit em!

hello longneck sir, your group has been terrible to Rozz's son

"we Geese are a cranky lot" sir do you know that your whole species is a fukin menace???

why does he sound like a school principal telling the Protag's mom that she needs to make sure his grade is stable if she want her son to have a shot at the team

Roz honey why do you know the size of your son's heart?

YEAH GET HIS ASS PinkT!

The Forest guys are warming up to the Odds Fam Aww :3

and it's DONE the Boy can FLY! >:D

------------------------

opp it's time everyone- wdym thing between you two is still weird

oh god he's really going away now huh? well at least LongNeck is a good fellow

"this Flight is a gift from Roz to you-" "do you see any others that are as small as you?" - YES! give that kid a lesson in perspective!

noooo Rozzie you don't need to hesitate calling BB your son

------------------------

BB: will you be here when i get back? Roz: no me seeing there is still like 40 minutes left: uhhhh -------------------------- Say sorry you lil shit, or like thank you.-ah, and there he goes.

AUYSUGJAVXBXAVXAG FUCK T o T

THE LAST GOODBYE MY HEART FUHCHHKKK

welp, task over yeah Fink now you can go back to your unkind life where everything wants to kill you all the time.

help why do they sound like divorced parents already, the kid literally just left for college not a minute ago

JUST SAY YOU GUYS STILL WANT TO BE FRIENDS OMG

i mean she is clearly running on minimum energy with a deteriorating body because Nature is a bitch so uhhhh

FINK FUKIN COME BACK YOU COWARD

--------------------

oh shit there are actually humans defuq I forgot about them.

checking in with Goose Child they are landing in what seems to be a very futuristic corn farm.

OMG ANOTHER ROZ- OH SHIT ANOTHER ROZ

YES, Grandpa LongNeck you know what's up!- UFF and too think all this is caused by a herd of Geese jeez

THAT'S NOT A ROZZEM - WHY DO THEY HAVE A FUKIN WAR MACHINE IN A FARM!!- YEAH LET'S GO BB!-

wait no Grandpa LongNeck - NO

--------------------------

oh hey! Awww i knew you guys will stick together.- bad storm huh- Rescue MISSION

PINKTAIL!-Lmao Finks no- Thunderstrom!!- MR. PADDLER SIR! (he is still going at it wtf)

ROZ honey you're wasting to much energy love- the BEAR TOO???

ah, shit-this is too much chaos- "the jerk wants to speak" lmao.

YEAH SO DON'T BE A JERK ASSHOLES!

oh no Rozzie please stay safe

The bear's name is THORN

Rozzie you okay hun?- SHE LIVES!!- and to wait for baby- HE'S HERE!!

aw LongNeck- aw Rozzie- ROZZIE STAY AND TALK TO YOUR SON ISTG

uhhh-UHHHHHH- UH?????? - Vontra?- uh?- why she is so touchy???

uh OH , ROZZUM- ISN'T THIS A BIT MORE THEN NECESSARY??

THORN!- THE GANG'S ALL HERE

NATURE vs AI LET'S GOOO

TITLE DROP SHE DID THE TITLE DROP

FIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHTFIGHT

the acting school are doing wonders

NOO ROZZIE- VONTRA U BITCH

YES BB SHOW THEM WHY GEESE ARE FUKIN MENACES

also the forest fire...

give it up Vontra you could never defeat God's biggest mistakes

oh- oh kid- oh kiddo i am so sorry- oh honey

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH- fuck

oh?-oh! ROZZIE!

back to the Gang and the forest fire- hope we didn't left anyone behind-

oh MR. PADDLER SIR! we need your tree!

THUNDERBOLT

RIP i guess hope yu went to hell Vontra

Roz?-ROZ?- ROZZIE?!! WHAT'S WITH FLASH BACK ROZZIE??- ROZZUM WHY DID YOU THROW AWAY YOUR HEART?!- ROZ??!!

oh damn, that is a big Tsunami-

Rozzum?- aww you get a 10/10 finally Roz- oh -oh sheesh-

oh Rozzie- oh BB- Oh Fink- oh god YOU GUYS!

OMG THE ART

wtf Roz you can't make me sad like that.-

well, at least the gang is still as strong as ever- ROZ CAN HAVE WINGS???

nah you guys can't just let her be stuck as a farmer bot after ALL THAT!!

glad Fink and Mr. Peddler are friends now

i see what you did there Dreamwork- give us a "nice" ending but not the actually good one

[kaurwreck]

One of my law professor once said, "You're a lawyer defending your case. There's gotta be blood. It has to be bloody because you're not nice. You shouldn't be nice. You're a lawyer. And you're here to win your case." and although im aware that he said it mostly as a joke—before he said that he pointed one of my classmate to tell him how they'd defend their company in the face of lawsuit and got a little disappointed with how tame my classmate answer was—i can't help but be curious of your thought on that as someone who's working in the field

We are ethically obligated to be zealous advocates for our clients. However, it is immensely difficult to advocate for your client effectively if you've managed to make everyone else involved, including the judge and opposing counsel, angry.

To provide an example, when I was a paralegal at a plaintiff-side workers' compensation firm, opposing counsel once forced our horrifically injured client to travel an hour to our office for a settlement conference, despite not having the authorization to settle for anything close to an amount he should have recognized as reasonable. My attorney, rightfully and righteously furious, laid into him in the middle of our office, humiliating him in front of the parties and our firm. Four days later, my attorney realized we needed a deadline extension, for which we'd have to request opposing counsel's permission. Opposing counsel was gracious enough to agree to the extension, but he very well could have said no after how we spoke to him, and that would have damaged our client's case.

More recently, as a transactional attorney, I was tasked with drafting a disengagement letter addressed to a manufacturer who had failed to design the product my nonprofit client ordered to my client's specifications, which had, for lack of a better term, fucked my client re: my client's other obligations. The law and facts were on our side; if the matter went before a court, we very likely would have won, and easily at that. (For frame of reference, my client serves disadvantaged children. Even the optics were on our side.) But, my client is a nonprofit, and every penny spent on litigation would have been a penny taken from my client's mission. Thus, to zealously advocate for my client, I couldn't go balls to the wall such that the other party became incensed and filed suit or protracted our disengagement process.

You don't have to be nice, but you have to be professional, thoughtful, and strategic. You don't win lawsuits and negotiations from drawing blood. You do so by achieving the outcome that your client asked you to achieve.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 13 Chapter 13 | quiet rush⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Bambi-sensei, a round, cheerful woman with the unmistakably floppy ears of a deer mutant, beamed at you. "____, darling! You're a lifesaver! This presentation file... well, let's just say it wouldn't have made it through the next period without you." Her voice, a gentle coo, was the exact opposite of the cold, calculating thoughts swirling in your head.

You offered a polite bow, a practiced smile still plastered on your face. "It was no issue at all, Bambi-sensei. Happy to help." The words tasted like ash in your mouth.

With a final chipper, "Doe-lightful! Thank you so much, dear! Now, run along to lunch. You must be famished!" Bambi-sensei bustled back into the staff room, the door swinging shut with a soft thud.

You stood there for a beat, the mask you wore for the world finally slipping.

The smile vanished, replaced by a deep scowl. Your eyes, usually sparkling with manufactured cheer, morphed into black voids, an endless spiral of darkness reflecting your true nature.

The solitude of the empty hallway was your sanctuary. No need for the relentless act; no need to charm, manipulate, or pretend to be something you weren't.

In the quiet emptiness, you could simply be yourself—a powerful entity with plans far grander than fitting in with a bunch of superhero wannabes.

Glancing at a nearby clock on the wall, you noted the lunch break was quickly dwindling.

Lunch.

Usually, you'd already be eating in the cafeteria by now, but Kan-sensei had snagged you before homeroom ended, delegating a few last-minute representative tasks. A small price to pay, you suppose, for a moment of solitude.

This stolen time was precious—a chance to strategize your next move, to unravel the mysteries of this world, and to see how it could serve your ultimate purpose.

But for now, you allowed yourself a fleeting moment of indulgence, letting your mind drift back to the indigo-haired boy you'd met not long ago.

Since your encounter, you'd caught fleeting glimpses of him around the school, his disheveled, purple hair and matching eyes like a beacon in the sea of U.A. uniforms.

You even managed to formally introduce yourself—a calculated move, of course, fueled by a growing curiosity about his Quirk.

His name was Shinso Hitoshi, a student in General Studies Class C.

When you'd first learned this, a question had snagged in your mind. His Quirk, mind control through spoken words, seemed powerful—not entirely dissimilar to your own abilities, yet here he was, relegated to a class considered less prestigious.

The answer came swiftly, however, when a few students had sauntered by as you and Shinso spoke, their faces contorted in disgust. A harsh hiss of "villain" scraping past your ears as they hurried away.

This pissed you off.

The blatant prejudice against "villainous" Quirks, regardless of their potential for good, were seemingly pre-labeled.

You scoffed—the hero system here seemed as flawed as the one you left behind. Here, power was categorized into neat little boxes of "good" and "evil," ignoring the complexities that lay within.

Villains were villains simply because their Quirks were deemed unsuitable for heroism, even if those Quirks could be incredibly useful. It was a nonsensical system, one you couldn't quite wrap your head around.

After all, no one chose the Quirk they were born with.

But the real sting came from the similarity between your power and Shinso's Quirk.

The whispered insults directed at him felt like a personal attack. Shinso, someone with such a powerful and versatile ability, would let himself be ostracized and relegated to a "lesser" class because of societal prejudice filled you with disgust.

The very idea of him limiting himself because of the opinions of individuals you regarded as even lower than bugs was infuriating.

A sudden, piercing blare ripped you from your thoughts.

The school security alarm shrieked to life, its automated voice declaring, "There has been a Level 3 security breach. All students and faculty are to evacuate to designated safe zones immediately!"

You don't react; you simply continue your pace.

As you rounded the corner, a figure barreled into you, the force sending you both spiraling to the ground. A startled gasp escaped your lips, and for a split second, your eyes widened in a flash of a primal, terrifyingly cold fury.

You almost forgot yourself—power practically bubbling beneath your skin, screaming to tear apart the bug that dared touch you.

In a second, your practiced smile slips back on your face, your eyes sparkling with manufactured concern. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?" But as you took in the figure you collided with, the practiced smile began to crack.

This wasn't a UA student; no uniform adorned their form.

This intruder, the cause of the apparent security breach, was unlike anything you'd ever seen before. The figure was shrouded in a dark hoodie, pulled low over their head, obscuring their face completely.

You barely had a chance to take in their shadowy form before they let out a gruff sound, a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. They scrambled to their feet and brushed past you, their movements purposeful and urgent.

Everything about them screamed "up to no good," and despite the blaring alarm and the undeniable threat this intruder posed, you made no move to stop them, nor did you question their motives.

You weren't here to play hero, not today at least.

A sardonic smile played on your lips for a fleeting moment.

This unexpected turn of events—a security breach at UA? Now this was entertainment!

Before you could even blink, the halls were flooded with students. Panic surged through the crowd as everyone scrambled for the nearest exit, pushing past one another in a desperate bid to escape.

The once-orderly hallway dissolved into a cacophony of shouts, shoving, and the ever-present wail of the alarm. It grated on your nerves.

Here you were, in a supposed hero school, surrounded by students who were literally training to be heroes, and yet, the first sign of trouble sent them into a mindless panic.

Idiots.

Their fear was a tangible thing—a thick fog of chaos that clogged the narrow corridor.

It did nothing but cause problems, especially for you.

Caught in the surging tide of bodies, you were squished against a nearby wall; your front was pressed tightly against the cold plaster. The press of humanity was suffocating, stealing the air from your lungs. Your arms were pinned at your sides, useless.

You tried to yell, to scream at them to calm down, but your voice was a mere squeak lost in the deafening roar.

Frustration bubbled within you, a bitter counterpoint to the rising panic.

This blind terror was exactly why you weren't here to play hero.

These students, so eager to wear the hero's mantle, couldn't even control their basic instincts in the face of a threat.

Pathetic.

Just as you felt yourself reaching your limit, on the verge of exposing everything by using your power to control the crowd and restore order, a shadow fell over you.

The relentless shoves and pushes ceased abruptly, replaced by a comforting sense of solidity. Relief washed over you as you looked up to see a figure towering above you.

A pair of mismatched eyes, one icy blue and the other a smoky grey, stared down at you with a bored expression. The figure was a moderately tall and well-built boy, his age evident in the slight leanness to his muscles. His short hair brushed his neck in an perfect, ordly fashion, a stark contrast to the controlled chaos unfolding around you.

It was strangely split down the middle, one side a snowy white and the other a fiery crimson—an unusual color combination that probably hinted at something extraordinary. A stark burn scar ran down the left side of his face, reaching from his hairline to halfway down his cheek.

Recognition clawed at the back of your mind.

You cast your memory back, searching for the name that constantly popped up in Bakugo's tirades as you walked home together (a self-imposed duty you'd undertaken). The explosive blond had spat out the name "Icy Hot" with a sneer.

You vaguely recalled him mentioning it was the nickname he gave to some rival student named Todoroki in his class.

This wasn't just any student; he's apparently one of the top students in Class 1-A—even got in through recommendations.

You were jolted out of your thoughts as another harsh shove from the panicked crowd sent you crashing back against the wall, this time with your face pressed into the cold plaster. A muffled grunt escaped your lips, momentarily forgotten behind the growing surge of piercing anger.

However, the pressure immediately eased. You felt the firm press of muscle against your back as your 'pseudo shield' held himself a few inches away, creating a slight pocket of space for you to breathe.

He continued to shield you from the worst of the pushing throng, his bored expression unchanging.

The cacophony around you slowly began to dwindle as the crowd shuffled towards the designated exits. The blaring alarm still cut through the air, but with less urgency.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your clothes, the awkward situation momentarily forgotten. "Thank you," you offered, turning towards your unlikely savior with a polite bow. Your practiced smile returned, albeit a little strained from the ordeal. "I appreciate you for... intervening."

Now that the immediate crisis had passed, it was time to establish some semblance of normalcy.

With your usual gentle smile in place, you extended your hand towards Todoroki. "Before we depart, I should introduce myself. I'm Akuma ____."

He gave a curt nod, his mismatched eyes lingering on you for a fleeting moment before flicking back to the dispersing crowd. "Todoroki Shoto," he confirmed in a monotone voice, devoid of any warmth.

You hummed in acknowledgement, a spark of interest igniting within you. You knew of the top pro-hero, Endeavor, mostly due to his hulking frame and blazing flames that reminded you so much of the pet hellhound, Cerberus, you had back in Hell.

Could this Todoroki be related to him?

This Todoroki, with his unusual hair and powerful Quirk, was definitely someone to keep an eye on. Mentally making a note to file him away for further investigation, you offered another grateful nod.

Just as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. "Wait," Todoroki's voice was barely a murmur, almost lost in the fading clamor of the hallway.

You turned back, raising an eyebrow in question. "Yes, Todoroki-kun?"

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed in an uncharacteristic display of confusion. "Izuku... and even Bakugo," he began, his voice low and hesitant, "they talk about you a lot."

"Oh?" you replied, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes.

Midoriya's talking about you? Now that was a surprise. You'd expected much from your pet—in passing, of course—so you couldn't help but imagine what the hero-obsessed boy had to say.

"Being mentioned so often by strong students, can only mean one thing..." Todoroki continued, his voice gaining a hint of conviction, "...You're stronger than them both."

You stifled a laugh at his declaration. The idea of Bakugo and Midoriya being the benchmarks for strength seemed almost comical.

Here you were, someone who could manipulate entire crowds with a thought, and yet they were the ones considered strong? Hilarious.

But you kept your amusement hidden, tilting your head in mock contemplation and tapping a finger against your lips.

"Stronger, huh?" you finally hummed, your voice laced with a playful ambiguity. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and see, Todoroki-kun."

With that, you offered a final smile before turning and disappearing into the throng of students, leaving Todoroki with more questions than answers.

A/N: the way i just wrote several chapters out of order is insane. guess i couldnt wait for the exciting parts 😂😂 so yeah, ignore if a lil detail don't add up in any future chapters🥴 anywho, short chapter today, but tomorrow will malke up for it, it'll be a little longer ❤️

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jonathan Cohn at HuffPost:

Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris on Tuesday proposed a major new initiative: expanding Medicare to cover the cost of long-term care at home. Such a plan could mean the option of staying at home, rather than in a nursing facility, for the millions of seniors and people with disabilities who need help with the daily tasks of life. It could also mean physical and financial relief ― and new opportunities for school or work outside the home ― for the millions of working-age Americans who today provide so much of that care on their own without much in the way of outside assistance. If the proposed legislation is enacted, such a program would represent a substantial boost in federal support for caregiving and, by any measure, one of the largest one-time increases in American history. Harris made her announcement during an appearance on “The View,” the nation’s top-rated daytime talk show, and presented the initiative as a way to help the “sandwich generation” ― that is, the working adults who have aging parents while still caring for children. Roughly a quarter of the American population falls into that category, according to Pew Research.

“There are so many people in our country who are right in the middle ― they’re taking care of their kids and they’re taking care of their aging parents ― and it’s just almost impossible to do it all,” Harris said. “Especially if they work, we’re finding that so many are then having to leave their job, which means losing a source of income, not to mention the emotional stress.” Harris pledged to finance the home care initiative fully, in part by tapping the savings from yet another reform she has proposed: expanding the federal government’s power to negotiate drug prices directly with manufacturers. The federal government acquired that power just two years ago, thanks to Democratic legislation that Harris supported.

[...]

The Home Care Struggle Today

Dollars alone don’t capture the scope of the proposal ― or the change it could mean for individual families. Nearly 20% of seniors require some kind of help with bathing, eating and other daily life functions, according to the available research. The percentage is even higher for older seniors, plus there are non-elderly people who need these services because of disabilities. But Medicare doesn’t cover this kind of long-term care, except in limited circumstances, nor does private insurance. And few families have the income or savings to pay out of pocket for these supports and services, which over the course of a year can easily generate bills into six figures. That leaves Medicaid, currently the nation’s single largest payer of long-term services and, for millions of Americans, a true lifesaver. But Medicaid is available only to people with low incomes, which means that families cannot qualify until they have “spent down” whatever savings they have or figured out ways of transferring those savings to relatives. (An entire legal specialty exists purely to guide people through this process.)

And that’s not the only issue with Medicaid. States manage the program, even though the federal government covers most of the cost, which means eligibility, benefits, management and reimbursement for long-term care vary enormously depending on where people live. That’s especially true when it comes to home care. Many states cap enrollment, creating long waiting lists for services and forcing people into nursing homes (which Medicaid covers more uniformly) even when they would prefer to remain at home. The alternative for many families is to provide care on their own, which is nice in some cases and terrible in others and somewhere in between for the rest.

[...]

But the version Harris is putting forward now is different from the old one. The previous proposal would have essentially taken the existing Medicaid program and made it bigger. Harris envisions Medicare taking on home care for its beneficiaries, which to many analysts and advocates for the elderly seems like an improvement, in part because Medicare is not limited to those in the most dire economic circumstances. “The care that people need ― the long term-care ― is part of their overall health care needs,” Georgetown public policy professor Judith Feder, a co-author on one of the recently published papers sketching out a proposal, told HuffPost. “Nobody should have to be impoverished because they need health care or long-term care. It needs to be a true guarantee of security, not simply a last resort.”

Whether a home care program was part of Medicaid or Medicare, moving from Harris’ campaign pledge to actual policy would require answering all sorts of complicated questions and confronting all sorts of difficult trade-offs, over not just money but also issues like how to balance support for professional care workers and those who prefer to provide care on their own. There would also be questions of whether and how to restructure Medicaid’s long-term care supports, how those would integrate with the new Medicare initiative and what that would all mean for the providers of care, who, undoubtedly, would have a thing or two to say about it. But the potential complications go hand in hand with potential benefits, which include everything from additional savings to Medicare (because some studies suggest home care reduces hospital expenses) to shifting more care out of nursing homes and back to the home setting.

Democratic Presidential candidate Kamala Harris is making a major proposal to help seniors and their caregivers by expanding Medicare to include home-based care.

See Also:

Vox: Biden’s push for child care failed. What lessons are there for Kamala Harris?