#zero injuries in the workplace

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |4: One of the Good Ones|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Just a smidge of angst in this one! And I've already got a rough draft written for the next part, too! This story has been stuck in my head... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza

Your arm burned from the effort with which you were currently scrubbing your kitchen counter, working hard trying to remove a stubborn stain with the sponge in your hand. On the counter just behind you, your phone was playing music as you stress-cleaned. Truthfully you were too caught up in your thoughts as you'd been frantically jumping from one task to the next to have been paying much attention to what song was currently playing, though.

You'd already vigorously deep cleaned your bathroom, scrubbing your shower hard enough to make your fingers ache. Once you'd finished in there, you'd ended up in your bedroom, finally folding the laundry basket of clothes that had been sitting in the corner of your room all week. After that, you'd changed your bedsheets before bringing the dirty ones down to the laundry facility in your building to be washed. Upon returning to your apartment, you'd begun meticulously organizing your kitchen pantry before cleaning out the kitchen sink of dirty dishes. And then you'd landed on scrubbing your counters with every intention of cleaning off your stove top next.

You'd been cleaning like crazy after you'd come home from work tonight and finished dinner because you'd had a shitty day–though really it had been a shitty week. Everything had gone absolutely wrong at the office and you'd somehow managed to make a massive mistake on a big project the other day. Thankfully today you'd corrected the error, but your anxiety over the issue hadn't remotely disappeared. And of course, Eric, the most obnoxious and irritating co-worker at your workplace, had been at the top of his game of being an absolute asshole to you about the issue all week, too. You'd admittedly had far too many daydreams of throwing your coffee on him just to shut him up these past few days.

But as if that hadn't been enough, you'd found yourself becoming increasingly upset over the realization of your growing feelings for the Devil, who you hadn't actually seen since he'd appeared injured at your place just over a week ago. You were torn between believing his absence was either because he'd been recovering from his injury–which would also explain his absence in the news lately–or that he had zero interest in continuing whatever friendship you thought you'd both been developing. And because you'd gotten your period earlier today, you'd been hormonal all week. Which meant your brain had been telling you it was because of the latter reason.

But you didn't want to think about that. It was ridiculous to have a stupid crush on him. You didn't even know the man's name or what he looked like beneath the mask. You had no clue what he did for a living, if anything at all. And you'd only seen him three times now, it's not like you'd known him for months. It was quite likely he didn't feel the same despite the flirting he'd been doing. 

So that was what your brain continued to tell you this week whenever you got upset about his lack of appearances on your fire escape. That those visits hadn’t meant anything to him. You were just another person in the city he protected. His first visit had been accidental after all. And the second time was just to return the scarf he'd borrowed. The last time he had appeared had been because you'd been a convenient safe place for him to briefly stop and recover at when he'd been hurt, nothing more. 

Though trying to repeatedly rationalize that didn't make the ache in your chest disappear. It didn't stop you coming home every night from work hoping to have another surprise visit from the mysterious vigilante before you went to bed. And it certainly didn't stop you from shedding a few pathetic tears when he continued to remain absent each night. 

You'd begun to miss him. It was impossible to deny that now. And you'd worried about how he was doing with his injury, wondering if he really was alright. Which only had you wondering more about what he was capable of if he could meditate like that because–

“It's a bit early for spring cleaning, isn't it?”

Your hand abruptly paused mid-aggressive scrub of the stain that had long since been cleaned at the sound of the familiar and unexpected voice cutting through your thoughts. Eyes growing wide, you spun on your bare feet to find the Devil standing on the other side of your kitchen counter with a grin on his lips beneath that black mask.

“It's only February,” he teased. “Spring is still another few weeks away. Maybe show your counter a little mercy before you wear a hole in it.”

Hand gripping the soapy sponge tighter, you felt your heart nearly fly up into your throat in excitement. Because he'd come back . 

“You're here,” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he replied. He gestured a gloved hand back towards the window behind himself. “You left that unlocked, so I may have just invited myself inside since you didn't seem to respond to my knocking. I hope you don't mind.”

You shook your head quickly, still surprised to see he'd actually returned. It felt like someone had loosed a multitude of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him standing there so casually in your apartment once again. It was something you'd missed all week.

“No, that's alright,” you told him, shaking your head. “I don't mind.”

“You should really keep it locked though,” he stated. “Literally anyone could just climb in here. That's not exactly safe.”

Still trying to shake off the surprise of his visit as you took a step forward, turning off your music, a nervous laugh slipped out of you. “I think you're the only one crazy enough to climb all the way up that rickety fire escape,” you replied.

You turned, heading over towards your kitchen sink in the hopes of busying yourself with washing your hands so he wouldn't see the embarrassing grin steadily growing on your face. 

“I think you might be surprised with what the criminals will do in this city,” he countered.

“Well that's…unsettling,” you muttered, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on the nearby kitchen towel. “With the way my week has been going though I suppose it would be my luck that someone probably would climb through my window. Someone other than you, I mean.”

You set the towel back on the hook near your sink, turning around only to find the Devil had stepped around the counter and into your kitchen. He was standing a few feet away, his head tilted curiously to the side. How the hell did he always manage to move so quietly?

“You're having a bad week?” he asked. “Is that why everything smells like lemon cleaner in here and why you were scrubbing your counter so hard you couldn’t hear me knocking on the window?”

Clasping your hands together in front of yourself, you fidgeted awkwardly with your fingers. Now that your hands weren't busy with an actual task you were feeling your anxious thoughts beginning to spiral again. Especially because it was only Thursday night and you still had to go into work tomorrow and deal with Eric and everyone else when all you desperately wanted to do was crawl into bed for the duration of the weekend and pretend this week never happened. 

“What's wrong, angel?” the Devil asked softly.

You glanced up at the sound of the name he’d called you just before he left your apartment last time, watching as he took another step towards you. You sniffled lightly, trying to ignore the confusing and conflicting feelings arising inside of you at the nickname. The smile disappeared from his lips, his mouth instead pulling a bit downwards at the corners. Swallowing hard, you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Nothing, things are good,” you lied. “I'm fine.”

The frown visibly deepened on his face before he took another step closer. “Someone who's fine doesn't generally deep clean their place on a random Thursday evening,” he pointed out. “And it seems like you've been on the verge of tears for a bit now. What's going on?”

You swallowed hard, wondering how he could’ve possibly known that when he’d only just entered your apartment. Yet another one of his mysterious little powers, you figured.

“Nothing,” you answered. “Really, I’m good. I just got into a random cleaning frenzy. It happens.”

The Devil’s head canted further to the side, his lips thinning along his face. He shook his head slowly, taking another cautious step towards you.

“You’re not fine,” he replied. “And for the record, I know when someone is lying, angel.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your chest and trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted nervously at that name again. Surely it was meant to be more of a joke than a term of endearment considering you always called him Devil.

“Another useful skill of yours?” you asked curiously. “Like your ability to heal?”

Briefly a smirk slid over his mouth, one you caught just before it disappeared. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously back at him.

“Something like that,” he answered. “So believe me when I say that I’m not buying the line that you’re okay. What happened?”

Eyes darting down, your nails began to pick at your sweatshirt nervously. The memory of your boss chewing you out at work the other day resurfaced in your mind, quickly followed by one of Eric’s heartless comments to you afterwards. The continual disappointment of an empty fire escape night after night before you went to bed also reared its head, tears starting to sting at your eyes at the memory of those lonely nights. Blinking rapidly, you tried to stop the tears from coming.

You did not want to cry in front of the Devil.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all stupid in comparison to what you’re usually dealing with anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” he murmured, closing the remaining distance between you and gently grabbing your shoulders, lowering his masked face into your line of sight. “It’s not a competition.”

His light, reassuring touch only had the tears welling up faster in your eyes. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. With comfort and care. A touch that made you feel both safe and seen. And here he was doing it with such ease, like you deserved that sort of attention–and from him no less. 

It suddenly became all too much. A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye as you gazed up at his face half-obscured by that mask, unable to blink it back before it made its way down your cheek. The Devil’s hands carefully began pulling you in towards himself barely a second later. Surprised at his response, your arms remained wrapped around yourself as his arms slowly encircled your shoulders.

He was hugging you. Comforting you.

Somehow that managed to open the floodgates to your emotions, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks hot and wet in a continuous stream that you couldn't seem to control. Your hands gripped your sweatshirt tighter, unsure if you should hug him in return or not. Instead, you pressed your face into the thin fabric of his black shirt, attempting to hide how fast the tears were flowing from his sight.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were even crying at this point, either. Was it because of the shitty week you’d had? Because of the gentle touch and compassion coming from the masked vigilante, a touch that you hadn’t felt since you'd last been in a relationship? Was it because of the fact that him holding you like this only stirred up those confusing feelings further inside of you, making you wonder what this weird relationship with the Devil actually was? Or was it just because you were hormonal and on your period?

“I'm sorry,” you choked out.

“Don't apologize,” he replied instantly.

The smokey voice he always used had your fingers twisting tighter around your sweatshirt, your heart beating a little harder at the sound of it so soft beside your ear. You shifted, burying your face further against his chest. Though guilt quickly filled you as you cried. Because he shouldn't be comforting you, not for something so foolish. Not when there were people out there who actually needed him and all you'd had was a bad week, some out of control hormones, and a stupid crush.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Is there something I can do to help?”

You shook your head, begging the tears to stop falling. This was embarrassing. You didn't want him to see you like this, let alone be comforting you.

“No,” you whispered. 

You have better things to be doing with your time , you thought bitterly. I don't deserve the comfort.

Clenching your jaw, you took an abrupt step back from him. You raised an arm up, using the sleeve of your sweatshirt to aggressively wipe the dampness from your cheeks. Before you, the Devil stood with his arms still hovering in the air as if he was still holding you, seemingly confused about you withdrawing from his embrace so suddenly. There was a large wet spot from your tears soaking the front of his black shirt already.

“I'm sorry, that was embarrassing,” you muttered, still wiping at your eyes as the tears gradually slowed. “I know you don't want to be dealing with an emotional mess tonight. That's not what the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen does.”

“Who says it's not what I do?” he countered, his arms lowering back to his sides. “I'm here to help people who need it–and for the record,” he added, “crying does not make you an emotional mess. Trust me on that.”

“Well,” you began, sniffling a little, “my problems aren’t the type you can punch. And you can't exactly punch away my feelings. Or my hormones. So I think this is a little out of your usual wheelhouse.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you've helped me plenty of times now. Is it wrong for me to want to return the favor?”

So that's why he was comforting you. A sort of quid pro quo. Tit for tat. An exchange of favors, not because he'd genuinely cared about what had happened to you this week and would have offered to help anyway, but because he felt like he owed you something in return. That's what he was saying, wasn’t it? 

“I don't help you because I want anything in return,” you muttered, turning around and wiping the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes once again. Afterwards, you reached up into a nearby cabinet and grabbed a clean glass from out of it. “I help you because I worry about you out there. And because I think you're one of the good ones.”

You closed the cabinet door before focusing on the faucet in front of you, filling the glass with cool water. Sniffling softly, you felt the tears beginning to slow to a stop as you tried to collect yourself. You’d cry about your misplaced feelings later when he wasn’t here. Right now you just wanted to enjoy his company and not scare him off with your tears. And maybe make sure he was doing alright himself tonight.

Once the glass was full, you turned off the faucet and inhaled a trembling breath, attempting to steel your resolve. You were not going to cry anymore tonight. 

“For what it's worth,” the Devil said from behind you, “I think you're one of the good ones.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at his comment, your back still facing him. Now that sounded like a line.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “How many people would help a vigilante instead of turning him over to the police? And how many would just ignore him entirely? And here you are inviting me into your home multiple times now without question. Always offering whatever form of assistance you can when you certainly don't need to.”

Eyes dropping down to the full glass in your hands, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at his kind words. Clearing your throat, you tried to swallow the lump that had begun to form. “I think you vastly underestimate what you mean to the people in this city, Devil,” you whispered.

Gradually you turned back around, the glass of water clutched between both of your hands. His lips were once again pulled in a straight line across his face, his head faintly tilted to the side. 

“You're a symbol of hope to many in Hell’s Kitchen,” you said softly, extending the glass out towards him. “A sign that there’s still good in the world. That there are still people who care about helping those in need.”

You could see the muscles working in his cheeks, the corner of his lips twitching faintly. You wondered what expression he was making beneath the mask right now. Was he not aware of what he meant to this city?

“Here,” you said, holding the glass out further towards him. “Drink it. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

The Devil’s right hand flexed open and shut at his side for a moment, your eyes drawn to the movement. After a minute's hesitation you saw it raise, reaching out to carefully accept the glass of water from your own hand. He murmured a soft ‘thanks’ as he drew it up towards his lips. In silence you watched the bob of his throat as he drank almost half the glass immediately, a satisfied smile eventually landing on your face. 

“You hungry?” you asked, stepping around him and heading over to your fridge. “I have spaghetti leftover from dinner tonight. Unfortunately no garlic bread,” you grumbled, opening the door of your fridge. “Because my week was apparently so bad that I even forgot to grab garlic bread at the store.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he assured you.

Half bent in front of your fridge, you glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a flat look. “Are you planning to go home and eat something before you go to sleep tonight?” you asked him. “From the fridge you have apparently only stocked with beer, eggs, and sometimes orange juice?”

He hung his head in defeat, his gaze behind the mask appearing to drop to the floor. It looked like he was fighting back a grin on his face.

“Well…no,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Right,” you said, focus returning to the contents of your fridge. “So do you eat spaghetti? Because I have plenty.”

“If you’re that determined to feed me, yes,” he answered. “I do.”

Reaching into your fridge, you pulled out the container of leftovers that you’d put away earlier this evening before you’d begun meticulously stress cleaning. You closed the door, bringing the container over to your counter and setting it down before searching for a clean bowl and a fork.

“So how’s your rib doing?” you asked as you worked. “Did your doctor friend tell you it was broken? Have you somehow meditated it back to normal already with that useful ‘skill’ of yours?”

The Devil chuckled good-naturedly behind you as you began scooping some pasta into a bowl for him. Internally you thought it strange that he found that somehow funny, though that warmth of pleasure filled you at once again still being able to make him laugh.

“She's a nurse, not a doctor, and that's hard to say,” he answered. “I’d need an x-ray to know if I had actually broken it, and I can’t exactly go to a hospital because they’d surely call the authorities on me. But either way, it’s feeling better than that night I was last here. Not completely healed with my ‘skill,’ but the pain is…tolerable.”

You stopped mid-scoop of some pasta, your head turning over your shoulder towards him. Quirking a brow at him, you shot him a quizzical look. 

“The pain is ‘tolerable’?” you asked him. “So you mean to tell me you’re still going around tonight scaling buildings and jumping off fire escapes with an injury that’s not even fully healed?”

The Devil shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, shooting you a charming smile. “Yeah,” he answered. “Something is almost always injured or hurting. But it's not like crime ever takes a night off. So usually neither do I.”

Sighing, you focused back on scooping pasta into the bowl for him. “I'm starting to worry about your sanity,” you half-joked. “You know, I've always wondered why you do what you do. I don't suppose you'd answer that truthfully, would you?”

Picking up the bowl, you stepped over towards your microwave and set it inside. Setting the timer to heat it up, you turned around and leant your back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him expectantly. 

The Devil shook his head, a faint smile on his mouth. “No, not right now,” he answered. “But maybe someday I could answer that for you.”

Hugging your arms tighter around yourself, you tried to hide the thrill that shot through you at his answer. The prospect of him continuing to visit you was clearly layered in his response and you couldn't even begin to explain how that made you suddenly feel.

“Always so mysterious,” you muttered nervously, glancing down at your feet.

“Don't suppose you'd ever give me your name, would you?” he countered.

You grinned, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as the microwave hummed behind you. “I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours, Devil,” you replied. 

“So mysterious ,” he teased back, grinning. 

You tried to bite back the smile growing on your face, laughing softly. The grin only grew wider on his face and your cheeks began to heat at the sight. You could feel your heart beating a little faster as you watched him from across the kitchen, taking in the handsome shape of his mouth and feeling the nervous churning of your stomach beginning to increase at the comfortable silence that fell over you both.

Thankfully your microwave beeped a moment later, pulling you from the moment that surely would have only resulted in you further ogling him, wondering what he looked like beneath the mask. Turning around, you opened the microwave and removed the bowl of spaghetti. You set it back onto the counter, mixing it around with a fork to make sure the entire bowl had been thoroughly heated. Satisfied that it was warm, you picked up the bowl and carried it over to the Devil. 

“You can have a seat at the table if you want,” you offered, holding the bowl out to him.

You gestured your other hand to the small circular table just outside of your kitchen. The Devil accepted the bowl of pasta from you, looking somewhat over his shoulder where you'd gestured. 

“Thank you,” he replied. 

You watched as he twirled a handful of noodles onto his fork immediately, bringing it up to his mouth before he'd even began to make his way towards your table. It was obvious he was hungry with the way he'd shoveled the bite into his mouth–just like when he'd devoured that burrito–and that satisfied smile returned to your face. Even if you'd messed up a lot of things this week, at least you'd managed to do something helpful for him. And that felt good.

You'd been about to turn around and put away the container of leftovers still sitting out on your counter when you saw him suddenly freeze, his entire body tensing. Your own body froze as you watched him chew the bite of food so slowly, your stomach sinking to the floor.

“What?” you asked cautiously, feeling self-conscious and on the verge of tears again. Had you actually somehow messed this up, too? “Is it…not good? I mean I know I'm not the best cook or anything, but I thought I was decent at making spaghetti sauce. It's not that complicated.”

The Devil swallowed the bite of spaghetti, his body still stiff as he stood there. His hand had tightened around the fork in the bowl as he remained silent, which only had your nerves growing. The feeling of being a failure once again this week was suddenly bearing down heavily on you. Was there nothing you could do right this week?

“Look, if it doesn't taste any good you don't need to eat it,” you told him, taking a step closer and reaching for the bowl. “Apparently I just can't manage anything this week. Just one of those weeks I gu–”

“This tastes exactly like the spaghetti my dad used to make,” the Devil whispered in disbelief.

Your hand hovered in the air reaching out for the bowl, your mouth hanging open at what he'd told you. That certainly hadn't been the reaction you'd expected. 

“Wh–what?” you stammered out.

The Devil pointed at the bowl of pasta with the fork in his hand, something like amazement creeping into his voice as he focused on you. When he spoke again, you'd noticed that raspy, deep voice he always used had disappeared.

“The sauce,” he told you, his words gradually picking up speed as he spoke. “It tastes exactly like the spaghetti sauce my dad used to make when I was a kid. I–I haven't tasted anything quite so similar since he passed when I was young. The likeness is incredible.”

You could feel the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest at yet another little piece of the real man beneath the mask being revealed to you. Mouth opening and closing a few times, you quickly realized you didn't know how to respond. Was he going to run away on you now that he'd let another little personal detail slip? Especially considering it looked like he was also realizing what he'd just told you and was beginning to regret it.

“I'm–I'm sorry to hear about your father,” you managed out.

The Devil continued to stare at you over the bowl of spaghetti in his hands, his lips pressing together as his mouth began to twitch. It was as if he didn't quite know what to say himself, but the longer he remained quiet, his jaw grinding back and forth, the more fearful you became that he was going to bolt back out of your window for accidentally revealing more personal information about himself to you. 

Slowly you held up your hands in front of yourself like one might do to a scared animal, hoping not to scare him further. The Devil didn't move, but his jaw visibly tensed at the gesture. 

“Look, I'm not about to tell anyone that you come here sometimes,” you told him. “And I don't go digging around on the internet trying to find out who you really are with the vague information I have, mostly because I don't have that level of motivation, if I'm being honest.” You saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards at your comment and you cautiously lowered your hands back to your sides. “I just want to help. That's all,” you continued. “And personally I worry that if I scare you off, you'll end up out there starving and with kidney damage from constantly not drinking enough water while you're out parkouring around the city.”

“You're worried about my kidneys now?” he asked, amusement in his tone. 

You shrugged lamely, shooting him a small smile. “If I say yes will you sit down and eat that spaghetti and drink some more water?” you questioned back. “Instead of jumping out of my window like a terrified cat?”

Something like an amused snort came from him as he turned, making his way towards your little kitchen table. You relaxed when you realized he wasn't going to disappear on you.

“For the record,” the Devil told you, voice muffled around a large bite of spaghetti that he'd shoveled into his mouth, “I am not a stray cat.”

“Of course not,” you agreed, picking up the glass of water he'd already finished and set onto the counter. You brought it over to your sink and began to refill it for him. “Because a cat would know better than to keep running around and making a broken rib worse. And I'm not sure how partial they are to spaghetti,” you joked. 

At the bright sound of his laughter over the sound of the running faucet, you found yourself smiling. You'd certainly missed having him here, even if you knew you were going to miss him the moment he finished that bowl of spaghetti and jumped back over your fire escape. All you could really do was enjoy the next few minutes you had with him and hope that he returned another time. 

Though deep down you sort of found yourself hoping he was more like a stray cat than he let on, because at the very least, maybe the prospect of food and water would tempt him to appear again at your window sooner rather than later. 

And that thought was steadily giving you an idea.

[centrally-unplanned]

Oh since I mentioned it before and am catching up now, I thought I would explain why I think Severance is just a "fine" show - well produced, great sets, but thematically confused. It is trying to do two things that sit in tension with each other: be "capitalist drudgery" and also "sci fi corporate dystopia".

(Spoilers ahead) In the lore of the show you see people who get "severed" (Aka split brains that swap periodically with no continuity of memory between them) outside of the core group who work at the Big Lumen HQ - like a rich woman who swaps into her alt to give birth so she can skip the painful parts. This is the economically logical use of the technology, ethics aside it makes sense as a consumer good. Working at Lumen is often portrayed as a productive extension of that - we can get focused workers who can do sensitive tasks with minimal distractions and maximum corporate control, and the actual person can "skip" the drudgery of the work. If I told you just that, you would expect these workers to be sort of desk-chained, doing intensive work, probably clandestine in nature.

But we only half-see that - the other half is as Office Space pastiche of irrelevant busywork, vapid corporate team building, and a truly gargantuan amount of time spent totally fucking off in the hallways generally unsupervised. Those both are "anti-corporate" but they are very different critiques! Take the pregnant lady - she and her alt are not, in any way, closeted off from the world with no knowledge of who she is. Arranging that would be a colossal waste of time! The lady lives her normal life and then just swaps into her alt for unpleasant stuff, of course her alt knows the deal. In the same way, if these workers are, in their primary identities, completely free agents as they seem to be, there is absolutely no reason for their workplace to look the way it looks. Why wouldn't you tell Dylan he has a wife and kids at home who his work is putting food on the table for to help motivate him? Why are any of these people motivated by the dumb workplace incentives if - like Helly - they all have memories of the facts of the outside world? Why would these guy's primaries ever consent to have zero ability to ever perceive their other selves, even as they "come home" with bodily injuries? If the world was a Corporate Dystopia that would make sense, they have no choice, but Office Space isn't a corporate dystopia.

And Helly, what are you doing?! You don't live in a corporate dystopia, you run it, you are the CEO-heir of this whole company doing the Severance thing as a publicity stunt. So if it is a stunt, why aren't you stunting it? Tell your alt she is the heir of a massive fortune, we are gonna have fun here, give her a cushy job and pose for some pretty workplace-glam shots. Or, I don't know, just lie and say you got the severance surgery when you didn't! Why would you torture yourself into a suicide attempt for a photo op? Since the actual work they are doing is constantly portrayed as nonsense, the Office Space critique, she clearly wasn't needed down there for the actual job. Which isn't even that bad to do as a job, you could absolutely just pay people well and be honest and not-creepy and they would do it.

Now, I know that the work will likely turn out to not be nonsense in the Office Space way, but instead be part of some elaborate experiment or psyop or w/e. But then the coin flips back, if this is a CIA wetwork shop why are there Waffle Party Sex Dances in a Founders Museum? Why can these people literally just quit at any time?

I have no doubt that a writer could work double-time to fill all these holes in future episodes, but that is a minimal saving grace - thematics isn't about plot holes. Office Space is not a story of corporate power run amok, the bosses are just as powerless as the employees, and that is the point. Meanwhile if you want to tell a Black Mirror story, you tell that instead. As a viewer I am meant to feel like the "innies" are trapped and powerless, but I really don't because they aren't - their outies and the wider world are just being stupid. So I don't feel that emotion in the story when watching the episodes. You can't write around it now.

Admittedly some of this problem is downstream of a general problem in western "prestige" TV where they feel like they really need to JJ Abrams this whole thing with the mystery box plot. The show would be much improved if you knew the general stakes of this project right out the gate, and were watching the hapless workers trying to figure it out what you already knew. Then you could make those stakes align with your themes/tone and commit. The current drip-feed meanwhile just keeps things confused.

Doing that would also let you cut the episode count in half, but that is a problem with all shows - I can't really judge this one in specific for that.

[commiekinkshamer]

Hello everyone, I know you see a lot of these posts, but please do what you can to help Fadel @fadel-dani, who is a 23 year old student struggling to support his family while he desperately raises funds for surgery required to remove shrapnel from his body after his home was bombed by the IOF. He deals with severe pain on a daily basis due to his injury.

Somehow, he managed to find a way to continue his study via distance despite these unimaginable odds and constant displacement, but his health is in severe jeopardy and he needs medical treatment asap.

As if this wasn’t enough of a struggle, he and his family now face starvation in light of the famine of Gaza, with bags of flour soaring to 500 euros or more.

It goes without saying most of us can never imagine what it would be like to live through a genocide and famine. I know it feels overwhelming and maybe you feel like you don’t know how or where to help.

Donating to individual fundraisers like Fadel’s are one of the most important forms of material support we can provide.

There is zero aid entering Gaza due to Israel’s unconscionable blockade. Gazans are left to fend for themselves and seek what little food is left, with severe supply issues skyrocketing prices.

Many Gazans have no source of income outside of what they rely on us to donate - their workplaces have been destroyed. What’s more, their verified and documented fundraisers are constantly being cruelly removed from donation platforms without due process, meaning they are constantly in fear of losing the few donations they do receive.

The sooner Fadel is funded, the sooner he can travel to receive the surgery he requires, and attain some semblance of safety.

Fadel has been verified by several sources: he is listed as #197 on the @/gazavetters list, by 90-ghost here and a-shade-of-blue here.

[playedcrowd5610]

Haunting the Nemesis - Danny Phantom x Transformers Prime Oneshot Master list

Danny has decided to call this Decepticon warship his new haunt, now he is having the time of his afterlife messing with these guys. Especially when they try so hard to get rid of him. Why leave now? He doesn’t even have to pay rent.

===

Ao3: Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost - (the one-shots below are from here)

Part 4: Falling Stars

Untold Adventures on the Nemesis (Non-Canon Scenes) ===

ART:

Danny Design - Starscream Comparison

Chasing Stars Cover

Burning Rubber Cover

Haunting the Nemesis Cover

Decepticons Phone Caller ID

Falling Stars Cover

Danny Dark Energon Injury Scene

Roddie x C-27 Ship Art

Box Ghost Stealing Energon

Knockout Eyelashes/Laserbeak Bubblewrap

DeathStar Valentine

Danny and Star Petting Animation

Signature Located SOUNDWAVE

Megatron Arm No More/Punching Practice

HTN Workplace AU: Cat!Danny Design

===

[ANIMATIC] - Protective Programming

[ANIMATIC] - Big Happy Family

===

Questions:

Is Danny the Ghost King In This Series?

Why does Danny Defend the Cons' Murder?

Pet VS Partner Humans

Language key for HTN + Adopticons

Human Height Comparison HTN

===

Fanart for Adopticons:

Ratbat Backpack

Ravage and Cujo

Cassette Danny

Dadwave Parent-Teacher Meeting

Laserbeak Jumpscare:

Shockwave: Where did you find this creature?

Danny Ratbat Hug

Danny Hurt in Alleyway

Dual Wielding Hyperfixations

===

ADVENTURES OF THE DECEPTICONS' PET GHOST - Chapter List

Soundwave: - Danny finally manages to get a chance to talk to Soundwave and finds out why Megatron hasn't discovered him yet. Maybe he also makes a friend along the way.

Little Hands Make Light Work: - Starscream goes to the medbay and Danny ends up learning some cybertronian biology.

Take Flight: - Danny takes Starscream for a flight to help blow off some steam. And maybe there is more to Danny than meets the eye.

Laserbeak: - Danny meets Laserbeak for the first time

Breaking Down: - Danny has a heart-to-heart with Breakdown… (Or I guess in this case it's a core-to-spark)

The Gift of Language: - Danny's been working on a surprise for his favorite seeker.

The Nemesis Chase: - Danny books it through the Nemesis with an angry Knockout on his heels

Steve, Roddie, and C-27: - Danny runs into some injured Vehicons and they don't know what to make of this strange human with zero life-preservation skills and a knack for medical assistance.

A Crushed Bug: - Bumblebee is trapped in a collapsed energon mine, that is until this strange human finds him and helps patch him up.

Protective Programming: - After some careful consideration, Laserbeak has concluded that Danny has a complete lack of self-preservation and it was up to him to keep the human safe. - Or three times Laserbeak “saves” Danny and the one time Danny returns the favor. - ANIMATIC INCLUDED WITH THIS STORY!!!

Additional Medical Assistance Required: - Danny gets severely injured after a fight with a soul eater and some hunters, and the Decepticons don't know what to do. Knockout's tools aren't small enough for this, so they only have one option: They need to get some help.

Bedrest: - After the events of "Additional Medical Assistance Required," Knockout decides to put Danny on Bedrest. But Danny has other plans.

Catching Up With The Autobots: - June returns from her kidnapping shaken, and the Autobots are deeply concerned.

Vivisection Buddies: - After being attacked and experimented on by M.E.C.H, Breakdown is rushed to the medical bay for his injuries.

Operation Payback: - Danny and Knockout team up to get some payback.

Keep Away: - The Decepticons have to hide their pet human from Megatron.

Jazz: - Danny and his sister have some catching up to do.

---

Thanks again everyone <3

Haunting the Nemesis

[catfern]

she will destroy you.

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

music: crack baby or bag of bones ( or anything from puberty 2 ) - mitski

word count: 3.3k (i'm exhausted)

summary: rumours are swirling, fighting their way through your front door. you hope to keep your work and private life separate, but your proximity with your boss threatens to catch up with you.

warnings: mean!toxic!abby, cheating, porn with a LOT of plot, swearing, tipsy sex, fingering, oral (r!receiving), zero ( i mean ZERO ) aftercare, angst-ish

an: a quick intermission from cowboy!ellie because LORD. i read one page from one book abt a butch teacher yearning for the headmaster's wife and suddenly I NEED AFFAIRS!! I NEED YEARNING!! I NEED SECRECY!! and who better to do that with than a rlly mean ceo!abby who has a PhD in fucking bitches.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Shit.”

A line of scarlet trickles onto the warm printer paper and settles. You drop your paperwork on an unknown desk and suck your finger, hissing through your teeth at the sting. Your phone buzzes impatiently in the back pocket of your work pants, and you fumble with your non-bleeding fingers to pull it out.

we’ll talk abt this when u get home

see u after ur party i guess

A shit fucking day.

You hall back to your desk, defeat slumping heavy on your shoulders. The Office makes an effort not to stare as you walk by, low whispers hot on your feet like coals in a firewalk. You pretend very poorly not to see the half-lidded, secretive looks shared between your old work friends by the water cooler. Water off a duck’s back, your mom used to say in a nonchalant way when you cried to her about mean girls at school. Not that you ever really knew what that meant.

You were never really thankful to be shut off from the rest of the cubicles, until now. A fortress of frosted glass and a heavy door, your desk was the secluded gateway to a place dreaded. Just you and The Boss, which you guess didn’t help the flying tongues of the old, bored fucks in accounting, but it kept people away. Away from you, with their knowing looks and unknowing laughs.

You huff, settling into your uncomfortable desk chair and digging out a small first aid kit your dad bought you when you first started. Pulling the seal off the small tin, you eye its contents. Disinfectant, thermometer, some loose aspirin and bandaids. You whine lightly as you wrap one tightly around your ring finger, feeling it throb and pulse, like a complaint. Get over yourself, you tell your body.

A sharp - ahem - breaks through your mumbling silence. She’s never sick, she never coughs. It’s a bodiless beckoning, a call into the wild, it’s the wordless agreement you have with her. You pick up your notebook, and the nearest working pen, and shuffle quickly through the open door into her office.

The opaque shades are drawn, the natural light greying and dying on the dark, decaying herringbone floor. 

Abby is bathed in the orange light of her desk lamp. With impeccable, almost effortless posture, she’s resting her forearms on her desk, one hand scratching notes into her diary, the other distractedly tapping on the leather top. You follow the shadows that the folds in her dress shirt create, your eyes falling on the contour of her body. 

You know she frequents a few gyms. You’re the one who schedules late night international calls around her evening runs, and her weights sessions, and her triweekly spin class. But now, the results of her efforts are on display, tightly wrapped in expensive cotton, perfectly tailored, down to the very last stitch, to her existence. You swallow an uncomfortable feeling when she deigns to meet your eye.

She looks you over in the way she always does, an uncaring, but judgemental once-over, like an army sergeant inspecting a uniform. she hones in on the bandaid,

“Workplace injury?”

Her voice has the warmth of a dying cigarette, rolling like well-spoken honey off her lips. You almost feel ashamed, your finger so offensive to her you could chop it off. You almost feel like you wouldn’t even mind. You start picking at the ends of the bandaid with your thumb.

“Paper cut.” Your voice is always so out of place here. An echo of something that does not belong. She nods her head, ever so slightly, as if she understood.

“Don’t think you can go claiming compensation for that.” It’s a joke you’re not allowed to laugh at. You smile lightly instead. It’s short-lived, “I need you to correct some seating arrangements for tonight.”

Yes, of course. No problem. In wordless agreement, Abby starts listing off adjustments, complaints and warnings from guests about not being seated next to their five ex-husbands, or their whining step-children, or ex-business partners fallen from grace. your pen fingers begin to ache as the whole process draws out.

“And I’m going to need you seated at my table, to keep track of my evening itinerary.”

Uncertainty quickly sows its seeds in your stomach. The unopened messages from your girlfriend burn their way through pocket, searing at your legs like a brand on cattle. Everyone knows, everyone will know. Every detail of your life will be laid bare, and you’ll be tried publicly and without mercy. Your bandaid begins to unravel as you rub anxiously at the glue underneath.

You need to do something, something to get things back under control.

“Actually,” You start, unsure. Abby meets your eye quickly, without hesitation, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s quick, and condescending. Undercutting any sudden courage you may have had, she meets your eye and stares you down, pinning you under ice, almost imploring you to feel terrified. And then she looks away, busy packing away the seating chart, and you wonder if she even looked at you at all.

She stands, and you try to meet her, your hands clutching your notebook.

“Your attendance tonight is mandatory.” She says it slowly, harshly, like it’s hard for you to understand. Her eyes chase quickly over your outfit, “It’s a black tie event.”

You’re left alone in a dark office, hyperventilating.

The apartment is empty and cold when you arrive home. 7 unanswered texts to your girlfriend tell you she doesn’t want you near her, but she isn’t packed. You expect her to come home, hopefully in the hour you have before you have to go again, and you contemplate just blowing the gala off to wait.

Abby’s voice is sharp in your head, a familiar dedication wringing your body. You can’t leave her. She needs you there.

You put off the conversation with your girlfriend into the furthest parts of your mind, allowing yourself to be swallowed in the minor decisions of clothes and hair and accessories. It’s not until you’re throwing your shoes on, and three times you think you hear her keys in the door, that you give up.

The phone rings 5 times before going to voicemail.

Hey. Listen. I know we said we weren’t going to talk until we were face to face but..

Whatever Maria told you wasn’t true, okay? I promise-I fucking promise you, nothings happened. Baby, okay? People are fucking bored, and I love you, so so much. I’ve gotta go to this one thing tonight - i tried to get out of it i swear -, and i’ll come home and we can talk, and we can fix this. Okay? Jus-Just, gimme some time to explain. Okay. I love you. Bye.

Echoes of quiet chatter uncomfortably ebb and flow off the walls of the ballroom. Too many people. Shoes scuff the cheap marble as the rich make their rounds, with light touches and reused laughter. They all hate each other.

Abby is a familiar sight. Wearing the same thing she has all day, she looks staggering. Hands just breaching her suit pockets, comfortably falling at her side, her hair in a calculated braid, designed to make her look approachable. 

 The air here agrees with her, her smile wide and effortless. You know she’s come straight from a meeting, and you suppose that adds to her charm. The Working Woman, a success story. Her rich friends, who spend their inheritances on shares and indoor tennis courts, lap it up. She’s a foreign object, something unfamiliar and wild.

You don’t interrupt, skimming the sidelines to get to your table. You can feel her glance, without substance, before returning to her conversation. Your event planner ( a shitty flip notebook that fits in every small clutch you own ) sits on the tablecloth at your seat, and you wait. Eyeing the glasses at the placemats next you, you can tell a few drinks has been shared, raking your eyes over Abby’s looser disposition.

She’s happy, and charming. She’s been drinking bourbon. Mint, with ice and syrup, the way you serve it to her in her office, when the occasion calls for celebration. 

Her conversation finishes, her soft hands bidding gentle, kind goodbyes to the couple as they move on. She’s a friend to the people that matter.

“I expected you here before me.”

She doesn’t bother to look at you as she sits, instead fixing her napkin to her lap. You watch as the veins in her neck rise and fall as she talks, “Doesn’t matter now. Run me through everything.”

Right, fuck. You open your notebook and run your fingers over the scratchy writing. Your days leading up to this were spent copying details from obscure emails, tidbits you thought Abby needed to remember. Late nights at the office, life abandoned, deciphering biographies and 2 hour youtube deep dives. You can watch yourself fall asleep from the future, your handwriting slipping, long and longer strokes, spelling dissolving, long words abandoned. your pen fell to the floor, and you slept at your desk. Twenty missed calls. You argued when you came home in the morning.

“The Ambassador is arriving around 8:00pm with his new wife, also named Rebecca. Oh, Old Rebecca emailed asking why she didn’t receive an invitation.”

She’s slowly sipping at another whiskey, a different cocktail she ordered just as you’d arrived. The orange peel brushes her nose as she tilts the glass, her jaw tightens as she swallows, “Tell her the venue was at capacity. Send some flowers.”

It continues like this for a bit. Quiet and attentive, she listens to what you have to say, as her eyes follow the crowd. You too, spy people that you know, a few slimy execs that share a whisper and a boisterous laugh as they look your way. You order gin.

Soon enough, Abby checks her watch. An inexpensive, vintage piece of leather and quartz. She excuses herself with a measure of politeness. It’s time for an hour of speeches that don’t matter, before you’re finally allowed to eat. You sigh.

A quiet buzz rips through the growing silence. You open your clutch and hide your phone under the silk tablecloth, away from the disapproving elderly eyes.

i told u to leave me alone

jesus christ

A pit in your stomach. Dark, pressing, ever present. Your saliva is heavy in your mouth, and you feel like shrinking away. Luckily, the waiter isn’t far. Drinks are discounted for the company staff.

Finally, speeches finish. Abby looked nice on the stage, effervescent under the lights. Her hair catches warm light nicely in the strands.

The food comes, but people disregard it for shallow conversations. Plates are taken away full, apart from slim, polite pickings. Your table orders more drinks, and syrupy laughter echoes as anecdotes about private schools and hedge funds are shared. You don’t belong here. Your body becomes unsteady, restless. Your legs shaking, a hand finds you thigh in the veiled secrecy of the table cloth.

Abby’s not looking at you, too engaged in tipsy conversation to draw attention. A nice gesture, but it’s not. It’s wordless agreement. Her thumb traces the outside of your thigh mindlessly, her jaw clenching as she feels your gaze.

You hesitate.

What else did you have to do? Apart from go home and wait for an argument.

You let her touch you a little longer, soft, ghostly. It’s kind, unmistakably. You let yourself revel in it, in her uncommon affection, before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Abby follows not long after. She’s confident, her position charismatic, not unlike the other times she finds a drink, and then goes to find you. She doesn’t stop, so sure that you’ll follow her trail as you’ve done so often before. But you hesitate, again.

She turns back to you, a look on her face that’s hard to decipher. You stumble in your reasoning.

“It’s just-, my girlfrien-“

“Are you coming? Or not?”

Your palms itch, you swallow.

What kind of sick sacrifice. Unfair to have both, some would say, but some don’t know you. How wicked it is to taste both fruit and have to choose the sweeter. Fuck. The drinks settle in your stomach.

Your girlfriend wasn’t coming home tonight anyway, not really.

She’s leading you up the stairs, hands flush to her body. You grip the cold handrail to hold you steady. She’s already steps ahead, the appropriate distance. 

A quiet corner doesn’t need to be found. She’s been here before. You’ve been here before. The holy emptiness of the second floor is an accustomed comfort.

She’s quick and calculated, despite the mix of drinks on her breath. One hand pushing you to the wall, the other finding the zipper for your dress. It falls off you like it never belonged to you, kicked away and piled into a corner, forgotten.

Gripping you like you’d run away, she palms your tits and presses crescent moons into your hips. She holds her head away from you, watching you down her nose as you squirm. Abby has always remained detached, carefully groomed a distance between you that now feels too sacred to break. You long to feel her kiss you, to feel her intimately, to run your hands along her arms and feel every curve, every outline. You’ve needed to touch her since the moment you met her. Craved it.

Abby is disrespectful, impatient. She cups your pussy, still hidden in slick panties, letting the rough ball of her palm grind against your clit. It sets you on fire, and she chases it with a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Get rid of them.”

You strip fast, in a very unflattering way, you’re certain, and throw your underwear close to the ghost of your dress. She moves against you again, her hand softer as it wraps around your lips and cheeks. You look at her, hoping to see that softness echoed on her face, but her eyes are elsewhere, too focused on the movement your tits make as she holds you against the wall. 

Painstakingly, her fingers slide inside you, her hand pressing down on your mouth as you moan around the feeling of her, the intoxication. Your hands lock and unlock, your nails digging at scratching at the wood boards on the wall as you try to balance yourself.

Merciless. She rocks into you, letting you fall into step with her, find her pace, a relentless one. You feel her melting into your core, her fingers curling and stretching your walls as she pounds into you, again, again, again. You sound pathetic, behind the mask of her hand, whining as she leaves, and nearly screaming when she returns.

Abby watches as your face contorts around her fingers, feels you wrap around her. If she feels even a fraction of what she gives you, you wouldn't know. Her eyes remain unkind, left at a distance, but her breathing is staggered. short, laboured. she looks over you, you feel it, feel as her eyelashes rise as she rakes over your body.

You need it to be desire in her eyes. You need her to starve. To crave, like you do. Desperation.

Her hand moves from your mouth, your whimpering breath filling the room fast, the quiet broken. Her pace slows, and you almost rest on her fingers, left to wonder what she’s playing at. Instead, it comes down on your shoulder, still warm and wet with your breath, and she pushes you down onto her fingers, deep, deep. you feel her at the very centre of yourself, your eyes wide as the pressure builds inside you, her fingernails leaving a trail, evidence of her in your walls. She lets your ragged moans echo, hurt and pleasure. It’s an unkind end to things.

You don’t want to let it to end. You can’t.

The distance is broken. You reach out and grasp flesh, firm under your nails. You’re still riding the ecstasy pulse, the heat in your pussy, and Abby lets you stay, holding onto her as if you would fade otherwise. Your cheeks are almost touching, her breath hot on your ear, you hear her for the first time, raspy groans as you squeeze around her. She’s been holding back.

Damn it all.

“Everybody knows. Please. Please, fuck me like you know you should.”

You meet her gaze. Everything is foreign now. Her skin feels different to how you had imagined it. Softer. Her eyes are more uncertain, more than you’d ever seen before. Hesitance.

“Fuck it.”

Whiskey, and a sip of your gin, and tobacco. You didn’t even know she smoked, but you taste it on her like its the only thing she ever did. The smell of pine came in a wave as she moved, hooking her hands under your legs and hoisting you up. For months, you’ve yearned for her to kiss you, begged for it even. And now, her lips are rough, and bloody, and everywhere. Ghosts tracing your neck, unkind, stinging, exhilarating. 

She moves you to the floor without fuss, holding herself over you, your legs spread around her. She’s smiling, and you become so sure that there’s something not quite right with this side of Abby. You’re quickly aware that you’ve landed in hostile territory, vulnerable, needy.

She usually didn’t like it when you begged.

Her tongue is like the rapture on your clit, spitting fire through your veins, in your nerves. You feel it creep up in your body, twisting and tightening through you like something invasive, moans and prayers dripping from your lips that only push her. her name a curse, fallen on your body. You feel her laugh against your slick walls and it jolts you.

Abby, suddenly so aware of you, so kind, so attentive, shifts her posture, “Oh, you’re so needy.” A hand grabs your face, pulling it up from the floor in a dead lull. Her name rolls off your pretty lips once more, “What? You beg for me, and now you can’t take me?” Her tone is mocking, “Which is it? Hm?”

A cacophony. You, you, you. Your head foggy, unsure of what she wants to hear, you beg for again, telling her you can it take it. I can, please, abby.

Her laugh is cruel, mocking as her mouth finds you again, sending cold vibrations up your legs. Slut echoes against your clit.

Inside of you, she feels like a god. Her fingers stretching your walls, pressing deep against your centre at an excruciating pace, and her tongue lazily laps up all that you give her. 

“Fuck! Fu-uck, fuck!”

It’s clear to Abby that the caution she so carefully designed was useless now. People knew, and fuck it if they knew. Fuck it if they heard you dripping on her fingers, calling out her name. Fuck it if they stop the music, and turn to listen - fucking perverts - because it’s her. And you’re the one begging for her.

Stars creep in through the haze in your vision, and Abby’s trying to ask you something harsh, but you don’t hear it. You’re tethered to the feeling of her fingers, your whole body knotting around her like a planet in orbit of the sun. 

You’d burn if she wanted you to, happily.

You’re so fucking tight around her fingers, your legs shaking and a vicious call ripping through your body. Her Name.

The warmth from your body is too much, and the cool of the floor is lulling, soothing, as you collapse. Abby’s fingers leave you empty, incomplete. You whine as she leaves you, your walls tightening around the absence of her. She wipes your cotton slick on your leg.

She stands, and rolls her shoulders. Fixes the few hairs that fall out of place. Guiltless.

“Get dressed, before someone sees you.”

[sleepymccoy]

I'm gonna try and write a story in November that relies on me being able to create believable alien cultures and identify their fears. I'm having trouble with this so far cos usually i make aliens and identify their community structure and unique individual strengths. This is quite different.

So, first step, human fears and why we have them. Like, what's a starting point that can lead to that fear? This, hopefully, will help me follow the logic a bit and do it for aliens

Fear of heights is a fear of something that can hurt us? Caused by gravity really, there's no falling in zero g.

Fear of failure is a bit of social worth mixed with capitalism I think. In a calmer society I think failure would be less scary

Fear of snakes and bugs and spiders and stuff - I think these are all fears of things that can hurt us quickly and that hurt isn't easy to fix. So it's kind of fear of death. Fear of helplessness. As well as being fear of natural predators

Actually a lot of these are fears of helplessness. Falling is helpless. Failure makes you dependant on others, which is helpless. So, if I make an alien up then I identify what would make it helpless, that would be a common fear in that culture.

Delicate aliens with a fear of injury is sort of obvious, like saying humans are scared of snake bites. But delicate aliens with a fear of high pitch tones cos their bones can shatter like glass is just a step removed. Not all tones will hurt you, like not all hoses that look like snakes will hurt you, but they'll all scare you

Super heavyweight aliens that struggle to get up when they fall. Like old people they're afraid of falling. But maybe this has led to them being hyper OH&S friendly and any workplace hazard is genuinely frightening, including like phishing emails and off cartons of milk in the fridge. Site inspectors are like kings

Okay that was a good brainstorm. Very good. I'm going to sleep

[pilferingapples]

7, 22, 24 Feuilly for the character ask!!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I like that we're about 9000 percent more likely to give him dialogue than Hugo..... >< He's not even one of the Top Three Most Popular Amis in Fanwork or anything but WE REMEMBER HIM<3 And generally try to put him in group scenes and all as much as we can, if we're making those! --also also one perk of modern shift work vs canon era is that it's very VERY easy to justify Feuilly having more Off time overlapping with the other Amis and I have ZERO issues with people using that to include him in the hijinks. Put that political nerd in some Situations!!

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

...I like it when he gets nice things he wants I am a simple creature who likes fluff and fix its but I also like it a lot when he's centrally involved in activism and planning and gets to go on long rants about politics (thought I suppose for Feuilly that is also Nice Things He Wants )! I love his canon tendency to talk about his One Niche Interest, which happens to be EVERYONE IN THE WORLD <3<3<3 and I like when that gets fanwork time (although I VERY MUCH get that it's hard to do! how do you draw "intense interest in global politics and solidarity across national lines" ? it's a lot harder to compose than a handholding scene! XD) For the other part of this...ok I don't exactly dislike it but I do think it's very funny when people decide that since he's a Worker he must be a big muscledy jock laborer. He's a fan painter. Graphic Design is His Passion. His only workplace injuries are carpal tunnel and headaches from paint vapors and eyestrain from going over the same dozen damn seasonal motifs for twelve hours at a time XD Sorry to all the art idealizing men of the Working Classes as Big Buff Hulks, Feuilly is a little glass cannon with puny wizard arms and a migraine (I love him) .

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

..man that is HARD. There are not a lot of characters like Feuilly! Even heroic characters! Especially when so many heroic characters spend huge chunks of their story going " oooohhhh nooooo pleeeaaase don't tell me I have to use my cool powers to do awesome things, I'm just a little birthday boy" and Feuilly's whole thing is I WILL SAVE THE WORLD ARMED WITH BASIC LITERACY AND SOME DAMN COMPASSION

I...y' know what? Captain Kirk. Original flavor, poetry-quoting Stack of Books With Legs James T. " Let Me Help" Kirk. And I wish I could think of more characters like this because I love them, but well, here we are.

[bruhlesbian]

ttcc headcanon time lol

prester:

im sick of overly dramatic reasons for injuries. like statistically not every facial scar or injury is gonna be like "yeah when i was six my dad put me in the industrial cement mixer-" no. for example - my brother has a cool eyebrow scar, right. oh was it from his woodworking class? or because he's a barback? no. he was like 4 and ran into a sharp table corner. this is all a lot of words to say i gave prester a split bottom lip, and its not from a fight or some other dramatic thing. he was fucking licking something off of a knife and just. whoops.

there goes his lip. right in the middle of family dinner night, fucking rude. he never got it fixed because he thought it gave him a grizzled appearance. fucking obssessed with scarring on robots for that particular reason- in most cases, it CAN be fixed. but the person who has it, doesnt want to! theres a element of choice at play, which is also true for people in real life! some amputees wear prosthetics, not because they are helpful, but to make other people more comfortable, or present a certain image. fascinating stuff, disabilities and how they are presented/represented is something i think isnt really touched on as much as it should be. fun fact i gave a speech at my college on disability rep and accessibility in gaming.

butch!craig oilcan/CEO:

im obssessed with the idea of butch!craig being a internalized homophobe/misogynist combo. god that sounds so bad but hear me out. in the lesbian community, theres a LOT of stuff to keep track of. terminology, gender identities, and most interestingly, the history and expectations behind certain identities. butch and femme, for example, are like, the lesbian identifiers that a lot of people know of/like to sling around. but like, i didnt even know that butches had/have really intricate courting rituals. beyond that, the essence of the patriarchy also plays a big role, as a lot of people kind of short-hand masc things as, oh, then you are a man equivalent and are expected to act as such. these things are starting to change, as people start to really question gender roles through their own identities. it has opened a lot of doors for people i feel like, especially me. being masc or feeling aligned with that doesnt mean you are a man, and you must live your life that way. very freeing. anyway craig is such a funny guy to me because, back to the point, i think he (like most of the other bosses - clo cpo etc etc) is obsessed with his image. how he looks to others. any shit that is a weakness has to be kept under wraps, and cannot see the light of day. so back to the butch history detour. basically butches were/are expected to pursue femme's, either from internal struggles or from lesbian or mainstream society. in my mind craig is like- fuck i gotta like femmes. like will be seen with them in clubs and shit and whatever. but like internally hes like "something is fucking wrong with me what am i DOING these women are objectively beautiful but i have ZERO attraction to them wtf"

tw for like. workplace relationship stuff or power dynamics. but like come on. craig saw jason and found out he was a butch and was like. ah ah. say no more. and immediately hired him. like ill be so real he is 100% a guy to favor a secretary as eye candy over skill. a comic is gonna come out and shoot this idea to smithereens but. whatever. anyway yeah butch!craig can only get a metaphorical boner for other butches and it EATSSSS him up. he hired jason but jason is actually competent so he has to fucking keep him. lol. and dont worry jason only took the job (in my mind) because. well. we all know the "I WANT THAT FAT BOY" image right. slay.

[leistertechindia]

How Lining Vibrators Enhance Induction Furnace Safety and Efficiency

In the world of metal casting and foundries, safety is non-negotiable. While most facilities focus on protective gear, molten metal handling, and temperature regulation, one vital process is often overlooked—refractory lining of induction furnaces.

Improper lining practices can compromise furnace integrity, increase operator injury risk, and trigger costly downtimes. That’s why many Indian foundries are now upgrading to mechanical lining vibrators—especially solutions from LeisterTech. These advanced tools not only improve refractory compaction but also significantly enhance workplace safety.

In this article, we explore how lining vibrators are transforming induction furnace operations and helping foundries maintain compliance with modern safety standards.

The Hidden Risks of Manual Lining

Many foundries still rely on manual ramming using rods or hammers—a method that may seem cost-effective but introduces several hidden dangers:

1. Uneven Compaction = Furnace Failures

Manual ramming often leads to air pockets or loose zones, causing uneven heating and lining cracks. This can result in:

Sudden refractory failure

Molten metal breakouts

Risky high-temperature exposure for workers

2. Operator Fatigue = Increased Injury Risk

Hammering refractory material for 1–2 hours per crucible is exhausting. Over time, it causes:

Repetitive strain injuries

Reduced accuracy and focus

Higher likelihood of accidents

3. Poor Lining = More Downtime

Subpar lining leads to:

Frequent relining and maintenance

Interrupted production cycles

Unsafe work environments

Mechanical Lining Vibrators: A Safer, Smarter Alternative

Switching to lining vibrators from LeisterTech introduces several safety and performance benefits:

1. Consistent Compaction

LeisterTech vibrators provide 360° vibration, ensuring uniform compaction of the refractory. This prevents:

Cracking and spalling

Hot metal seepage

Sudden furnace failure

2. Lower Physical Strain on Workers

By replacing manual ramming with automated vibration, facilities can reduce:

Operator fatigue

On-site injuries

Time spent on each lining cycle

3. Safe and Calibrated Performance

With preset RPM ranges (1800–3000), LeisterTech vibrators avoid over-vibration that can segregate refractory mixes or weaken the structure. Explore full product specs here →

Built-In Safety Features of LeisterTech Vibrators

FeatureSafety AdvantageSealed Vibration MotorMinimizes dust entry and spark riskShock-Absorbent Mounting BaseReduces structural stress on furnace shellThermal Overload ProtectionPrevents motor burnout during extended useInsulated Housing & WiringProtects against electrical hazards

Supports Regulatory Compliance

Using LeisterTech’s mechanical lining vibrators can help your facility align with:

ISO 45001 Occupational Health & Safety Management

Factories Act 1948 for worker protection

BIS Foundry Safety Standards

What Foundries Are Saying

"Since switching to mechanical vibrators, we've seen zero injuries and a dramatic reduction in downtime. It’s one of the smartest upgrades we’ve made." — Safety Manager, Mid-Sized Casting Unit, Rajkot

Ready to Upgrade Your Furnace Lining Process?

Want to improve both productivity and worker safety? LeisterTech offers tailored solutions for every type of induction furnace.

👉 Explore Products 📞 +91 93289 16310 / +91 99091 79617 📧 info@leistertech.com 📍 Contact Us for Consultation →

[educationalblogtips]

How First Aid and CPR Certification Helps in Public Safety

First aid and CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) certification is not just for healthcare workers. It has real value in everyday life. As people go about their daily routines, medical emergencies can occur without warning. When they do, the presence of someone with basic emergency training can make all the difference. Certification helps individuals respond with confidence and clarity in moments that often leave others panicked or unsure.

Building Community Readiness

In any neighborhood, school, or workplace, the likelihood of encountering a medical emergency may be low on any given day, but it's never zero. When individuals obtain First AID and CPR Certification, they become assets to their communities. This knowledge builds collective readiness. Instead of relying solely on emergency services, which may take minutes to arrive, trained individuals can step in and stabilize situations until professional help arrives. That time gap can be critical. The more people in a community who are trained, the safer that environment becomes for everyone.

Supporting Faster Emergency Response

Emergencies like cardiac arrest, choking, or severe bleeding require immediate action. Often, the outcome hinges on what is done in the first few minutes. Certified individuals are more likely to recognize symptoms quickly and respond effectively. This kind of immediate support can mean survival for victims and reduce the severity of injuries. It also allows emergency responders to arrive at a scene where the situation is already being managed, improving the continuity of care.

Promoting Confidence and Calm in Crisis Situations

One of the often overlooked aspects of first aid and CPR certification is the psychological readiness it provides. Emergencies can trigger fear, confusion, or helplessness in those who aren't prepared. Training gives people a framework to act rather than freeze. This calm, informed response not only benefits the individual receiving aid but can also help maintain order among bystanders and prevent further harm.

Encouraging Personal Responsibility

Having a certification in first aid and CPR fosters a sense of personal responsibility. It encourages people to look out for one another and contribute to a culture of care. Whether it's a family member experiencing a fall, a coworker fainting, or a stranger collapsing in a public place, those trained are more likely to step forward rather than step back. In this way, safety becomes a shared value, not just a service offered by professionals.

Empowering a Health-Conscious Society

The ripple effects of first aid and CPR certification go beyond emergencies. People with this training tend to develop greater awareness of general health and safety. They're more attuned to risk factors, prevention methods, and early warning signs of illness. This awareness contributes to a more proactive and health-conscious public, one that doesn't only react to danger but actively works to prevent it.

First aid and CPR certification is a practical way to strengthen public safety through education and empowerment. It equips individuals with the skills to act when every second counts, helping reduce the impact of medical emergencies before professional care can take over. By increasing the number of certified individuals in any community, we take a step toward creating safer, more resilient environments where people look out for one another, not just in theory but in action.

[sharpeagle8]

Enhancing Safety and Efficiency with Forklift Arc Lights

In the bustling environments of warehouses, manufacturing plants, and logistics hubs, forklifts are indispensable workhorses. However, their operation also presents significant safety challenges. Pedestrians, other vehicles, and even static objects can be at risk of collisions, especially in areas with high traffic, blind corners, or low visibility. This is where forklift arc lights are emerging as a crucial safety innovation, significantly enhancing awareness and preventing accidents.

What are Forklift Arc Lights?

Forklift arc lights, also commonly known as "forklift safety lights," "blue spot lights," or "red zone lights," project a highly visible, concentrated beam of light onto the floor, either in front of, to the sides of, or behind the forklift. The most common configuration projects a distinct "arc" or "U-shaped" light pattern, which creates a clear visual warning zone around the moving equipment.

How Do They Work and What Are Their Benefits?

The primary function of a Forklift Arc Safety Light is to provide an early visual warning to anyone in the vicinity of an approaching forklift. Unlike audible alarms, which can be difficult to pinpoint in noisy environments or when multiple alarms are sounding, a visual cue offers a direct and unambiguous indication of danger.

Here's a breakdown of their key benefits:

Proactive Warning: The projected light creates a "safety halo" around the forklift, alerting pedestrians and other operators to its presence well before it reaches them. This early warning allows ample time for evasive action, significantly reducing the risk of collisions.

Enhanced Pedestrian Safety: In busy warehouses, pedestrians can sometimes become engrossed in their tasks, making them less aware of their surroundings. The prominent arc light immediately draws their attention to the forklift's movement, even if they are not directly looking at the machine.

Improved Awareness at Intersections and Blind Spots: Forklift arc lights are particularly effective at intersections, doorways, and blind corners where visibility is limited. The projected light on the floor becomes visible even before the forklift itself is, providing a crucial warning.

Reduced "Near Misses" and Accidents: By clearly demarcating the forklift's operational zone, arc lights help to minimize close calls and prevent accidents that could lead to injuries, equipment damage, and costly downtime.

Increased Operator Confidence and Efficiency: When operators know that their presence is clearly signaled, they can operate with greater confidence, potentially improving workflow and efficiency without compromising safety.

Complementary Safety Measure: While not a replacement for traditional safety protocols like horns and mirrors, arc lights act as a powerful supplementary tool, adding another layer of protection.

Versatility: Forklift arc lights are available in various colors (most commonly blue and red), beam patterns, and mounting options, allowing for customization based on specific operational needs and environmental conditions. The "red zone" light, for instance, projects a red line along the sides of the forklift, creating a clear "keep out" zone.

Installation and Integration

Forklift arc lights are generally easy to install and can be retrofitted onto most types of forklifts. They are typically powered by the forklift's electrical system and are designed to withstand the harsh conditions of industrial environments.

The Future of Forklift Safety

As businesses continue to prioritize workplace safety and strive for zero-accident environments, the adoption of advanced safety technologies like forklift arc lights is expected to grow. Their effectiveness in creating a safer and more efficient workplace makes them a valuable investment for any operation utilizing forklifts. By shedding a literal light on potential hazards, forklift arc lights are illuminating a path towards a more secure and productive future in material handling. Contact SharpEagle for more details about the forklift Arc light.

[maggiebellemorgan]

I Don't Know How to Get Rid of This Book

A colleague gave me this book, and now that I've had the misfortune of reading it, I don't know how to dispose of it.

To be clear, Eddie B. and I agree on several key things: Teachers are undervalued. U.S. public schools are understaffed. Teachers are not only unsupported but undermined by districts and administrators in their attempts to discipline students and, you know, form responsible citizens, in ways that are both demoralizing and dangerous to teachers and bad for students. Teacher workplace injuries aren't taken seriously, and there's no outlet for them to express their concerns without being victim-blamed and even sued or fired for it. Parents often enable the worst in their children out of their own insecurities but in a way that stymies their own kids' growth. I could go on.

However, he clearly crosses the line into unhelpful and even ableist thinking. He props up a conspiracy theory that disability identifications are just about excusing student behavior, when we have several good explanations for why identification numbers are going up -- which have a lot to do with including children identified with disabilities in school rather than pushing them out. He seems to be advocating for a more zero-tolerance approach to school discipline, although perhaps it's not fair to say that he's advocating for anything other than for teachers to get to air their gripes without being attacked, even though research has borne out that such policies were racist, sexist, and ableist and funneled kids into prison. At no point does he point to disinvestment, austerity, privatization, charter schools, deprofessionalization, or any other systemic causes of these issues, but rather "kids these days" and their parents.

Now, I don't by any means endorse attacking him on social media with racial slurs for his hot takes on student behaviors, which is apparently a thing that has happened to him. I just think he's taking the wrong tack.

He's also out of touch. At one point he muses that a teacher must've had a great relationship with her principal if the principal had her personal number; all principals are always texting everyone on blast all the time while still being terrible, in my experience. Also, none of these stories are actually all that shocking. I only worked in U.S. public schools for ten years total, and for each anecdote shared in his book, I could think of at least a couple on the same theme that were much worse that had happened to me or a colleague.

Moreover, he needs an editor. I know it's not a big deal to some people, but the typos, strange capitalization and usage choices, inconsistencies in formatting, and overall lack of gloss was very distracting to me. He just copy / pasted submissions from social media followers and free versed his responses to them, without theme, organization, or even too much humor, in my opinion.

The colleague gave me this book, unsolicited, under the condition that I pass it on to "another traumatized teacher". Respectfully, she doesn't have what it takes to be a teacher, especially the universal positive regard for children with exceptional behavioral needs, or even the ability to not take those behaviors personally. I wouldn't embarrass myself by sharing this with any teachers, due to the bad opinions expressed in it and the weak sauce of the scandals included. I wouldn't put it in a Little Free Library where a student might read it and get any bad ideas. I wouldn't give it to a non-teacher lest they incorrectly believe this is how good teachers feel. Sound off with your suggestions.

[industrystudyreport]

U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market: Key Software Solutions for Compliance

U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market Growth & Trends

The U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market was estimated at USD 16.08 billion in 2023 and is projected to expand at a Compound Annual Growth Rate (CAGR) of 6.3% from 2024 to 2030. The U.S. commanded a significant 32.6% share of the global environment health & safety market. This growth trajectory is primarily driven by the stringent EHS standards imposed on companies, which necessitate substantial investment in EHS practices to avoid significant fines and penalties associated with non-compliance.

Regulatory Landscape and Key Players

Government agencies, including the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), and the U.S. Department of Labor, are responsible for establishing EHS norms and regulations. Companies like Trane Technologies exemplify a commitment to a safety-focused culture, striving for zero accidents and injuries across their organization.

Major market participants in the U.S. include Jacobs; AECOM; Enablon; Tetra Tech, Inc.; and VelocityEHS. These companies offer a broad spectrum of EHS software and services, encompassing ergonomics, engineering and construction, risk assessment, EHS software solutions, and management consulting and compliance.

Impact of Regulations and Public Awareness

Regulations play a pivotal role in shaping the U.S. environmental health & safety market. Government authorities such as OSHA, the EPA, and the Department of Justice (DOJ) mandate that organizations adhere to specific workforce safety and environmental regulations and standards, including the Toxics Release Inventory (TRI). These rigorous norms are anticipated to propel industry growth. Furthermore, rising public awareness regarding environmental issues has led to the development of environmental protection laws, which are expected to further drive market expansion. The high scrutiny and stringent regulations exert economic pressure on organizations to optimize their business processes and make them environmentally friendly. Consequently, management teams are compelled to deploy EHS software solutions in the workplace to reduce the occurrence of incidents.

Demand for EHS Services and Technological Integration

The escalating concern about the environmental footprint of business operations has significantly spurred demand for EHS services. Moreover, the advent and adoption of sophisticated EHS software solutions have streamlined the monitoring and management of EHS practices. Notably, 84% of companies utilizing EHS software have reported an ability to identify and fix potential safety issues before they occur. Beyond regulatory compliance, societal expectations for sustainable business operations have also fueled the EHS market's expansion. Growing consumer consciousness about companies' environmental practices often translates into greater support for those prioritizing EHS.

Curious about the U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market? Download your FREE sample copy now and get a sneak peek into the latest insights and trends.

U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market Report Highlights

Chemicals & petrochemicals segment dominated the U.S. market share in 2023. It is also expected to be the fastest growing from 2024 to 2030.

The software product segment, while currently smaller in size, is projected to be the fastest-growing segment in the U.S. EHS market. It is expected to register a significant CAGR from 2024 to 2030.

The on-premises deployment type dominated the U.S. market in 2023. This dominance can be attributed to the control, security, and customization that on-premises solutions offer.

U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market Segmentation

Grand View Research has segmented the U.S. Environment Health and Safety market based on product, deployment mode, end-use:

U.S. Environment Health & Safety Market Product Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion, 2018 - 2030)

Software

Services

Analytics

Project Deployment & Implementation

Business Consulting & Advisory

Audit, Assessment, & Regulatory Compliance

Certification

Others

U.S. Environment Health & Safety Market Deployment Mode Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion, 2018 - 2030)

Cloud

On-Premises

U.S. Environment Health & Safety Market End-use Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion, 2018 - 2030)

Chemicals & petrochemicals

Energy & Mining

Healthcare

Telecom & IT

Construction

General Manufacturing

Others

Download your FREE sample PDF copy of the U.S. Environment Health and Safety Market today and explore key data and trends.

[tradebirddigital]

Buy 3D Massage Chair With Advanced Features – ARG Healthcare

Experience outstanding relaxation with our cutting-edge 3D Massage Chair, now available in Delhi, India. Designed with smart body scanning, full-body coverage, and deep tissue therapy, this premium chair delivers spa-like comfort at home. Don’t miss out on the best price in India—Buy Now from ARG Healthcare and enjoy fast delivery, expert installation, and ultimate wellness!

The 3D Massage Chair is your perfect companion for therapeutic relief and complete body relaxation. If you are planning to Buy a 3D Massage Chair in Delhi or anywhere in India, ARG Healthcare is the name you can trust for high-quality, technologically advanced, and reliable massage solutions.

Why Choose a 3D Massage Chair?

A 3D Massage Chair goes beyond traditional massaging techniques. Unlike standard models that operate only on a 2D plane (up-down, left-right), the 3D Massage Chair adds a third dimension—depth. This allows the rollers to move in and out, mimicking the hands of a professional masseuse. It provides a more personalized and deep-tissue massage experience.

Key Benefits of a 3D Massage Chair:

Full-Body Relief: Targets neck, shoulders, back, arms, thighs, calves, and feet.

Body Scanning Technology: Automatically adjusts to your body shape and height.

Pain Reduction: Alleviates chronic back pain, muscle stiffness, and joint discomfort.

Improves Circulation: Promotes better blood flow throughout the body.

Stress Relief: Helps in reducing anxiety, stress, and mental fatigue.

Posture Correction: Aligns your spine and corrects your sitting posture.

Buy 3D Massage Chair for Home and Office Use

A Premium Massage Chair is not just a luxury product anymore. Thanks to technological advancements and competitive pricing by brands like ARG Healthcare, it is now accessible for personal use at home or in the workplace. Whether you’re dealing with lifestyle-related stress or recovering from a physical injury, these chairs offer comprehensive health benefits.

Why Choose ARG Healthcare?

ARG Healthcare stands out as one of the most trusted suppliers of Smart Massage Chairs in India. With a commitment to quality and customer satisfaction, ARG Healthcare brings you ergonomic, durable, and feature-rich massage chairs at affordable prices.

Features That Make ARG 3D Massage Chairs Exceptional:

3D Rollers with Deep Tissue Massage

Full Body Coverage with Zero Gravity Positioning

Smart Control with Touch Panel & Remote

Bluetooth Music System Integration

Airbags Compression for Arms and Legs

Heating Therapy for Back and Feet

Massage Programs for All Age Groups

Compact Design with Space-Saving Technology

3D Massage Chair Delhi – Delivered to Your Doorstep

Looking to Buy a 3D Massage Chair in Delhi? ARG Healthcare ensures seamless doorstep delivery and installation services across Delhi NCR and major cities in India. No hassle, no complex setup—just plug in and relax!

You no longer need to visit expensive spas or wellness centers. Your personal spa experience is now just a button away with ARG’s Full Body Massage Chair India range.

Advanced Technology You Can Feel

One of the most attractive features of ARG Healthcare’s chairs is the Massage Chair with Body Scanning. This smart technology scans the user’s back and body type to adjust the rollers accordingly. It ensures that every massage session is tailored to your body’s unique shape, providing consistent pressure and comfort.

Massage Chair Best Price India Quality massage chairs often come with high price tags. However, ARG Healthcare believes in delivering value. When you buy from ARG, you not only get a Premium Massage Chair but also the best possible pricing in the Indian market.

ARG frequently offers promotional discounts, seasonal offers, and EMI facilities to make ownership of a 3D Massage Chair even more accessible. Their chairs come with a warranty, post-sale support, and doorstep maintenance services.

As you can see, a 3D Massage Chair clearly outshines traditional massagers in terms of features, technology, and health benefits.

Designed for Everyone – From Young Professionals to Seniors

Whether you're a busy professional suffering from stress and poor posture, a senior dealing with muscle and joint pain, or a fitness enthusiast in need of muscle recovery, the Smart Massage Chair in India offered by ARG Healthcare can serve everyone’s needs.

With pre-programmed modes like Relaxation, Recovery, Stretch, Neck & Shoulder, and Deep Tissue, you can customize each session based on your daily requirements.

How to Choose the Right 3D Massage Chair?

Before making a purchase, consider the following:

Purpose: Are you buying for relaxation, pain relief, or medical therapy?

User Type: Will it be used by seniors, adults, or both?

Features: Look for body scanning, heating, airbags, and multiple massage programs.

Space: Make sure your home or office has adequate space.

Budget: Choose a chair that balances features and affordability.

Brand Support: Opt for a brand like ARG Healthcare that provides warranty and after-sales service.

Buy 3D Massage Chair Online in India – Easy and Secure

ARG Healthcare has a strong online presence. You can browse the collection, compare models, check specifications, and Buy 3D Massage Chair online from the comfort of your home. Their secure payment gateway and easy financing options make the buying process smooth and worry-free.

Incorporating a 3D Massage Chair into your daily lifestyle is a decision you won't regret. It's more than just a relaxation device—it's an investment in your well-being. And when you choose ARG Healthcare, you’re assured of quality, reliability, and innovation.

So, if you are ready to experience the next level of relaxation and wellness, now is the time to make the move.

🛒 Ready to Transform Your Health and Comfort?

Buy 3D Massage Chair With Advanced Features today from ARG Healthcare – India’s trusted name for premium massage solutions.

For more information: https://arghealthcare.info/ Contact us: 9310091413 Email ID: customersupport@arghealthcare.info Location: A-8,2nd Floor,Patparganj Industrial Area(Near HDFC Bank) Delhi-110092

[knollawgroup]

When Bias Becomes Injury: How Discrimination Lawyers Stand Up for Justice?

Bias at work can escalate into real harm when employers ignore rights or foster hostile environments. Discrimination lawyers serve as champions for employees who face unfair treatment. This article explains how these legal experts identify violations and guide clients toward justice.

Understanding Workplace Discrimination

Workplace discrimination arises when decisions hinge on age, race, gender or disability. Such actions breach federal and state laws. A detailed review of policies and workplace practices helps identify illegal patterns. Early detection prevents escalation into more serious harm.

Role of Discrimination Lawyers

Discrimination lawyers investigate claims by gathering evidence like emails, performance reviews and witness statements. They assess whether mistreatment violates statutes such as Title VII or the Americans with Disabilities Act. Legal counsel provides strategic advice on documenting incidents and preserving proof.

Navigating Administrative Procedures

Lawyers guide clients through filing charges with agencies like the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. They draft clear, concise complaints that meet strict procedural requirements. This step proves vital for later court actions and often spurs employer-led resolution efforts.

Litigation and Advocacy

When negotiations fail, discrimination lawyers file lawsuits on behalf of victims. They craft compelling complaints, argue motions, and present trial evidence. These attorneys know how to secure compensatory and punitive damages. They also seek injunctive relief to change discriminatory practices.

Settlement Negotiations

Many cases resolve through mediation or settlement conferences. Lawyers negotiate fair compensation for lost wages, emotional distress and legal fees. A seasoned advocate maximizes client recovery and may secure agreements to update company policies or retrain staff.

Specialized Legal Support

Some situations require niche expertise. A best labor attorney specializes in wage claims and collective bargaining disputes, ensuring fair labor practices and contract enforcement.

Addressing Harassment and Hostile Work Environments

Harassment can be verbal, physical or based on technology. Discrimination and harassment attorneys represent clients who endure repeated unwanted conduct. They push employers to implement anti-harassment training and enforce zero-tolerance policies.

Protecting Against Retaliation

Speaking up often triggers employer backlash. A dedicated work retaliation attorney tackles cases where clients face demotion, pay cuts or termination after reporting discrimination. Such lawyers file retaliation claims that carry severe penalties for employers.

Key Benefits of Legal Representation

Expert interpretation of complex anti-discrimination laws

Strategic evidence collection and preservation

Objective negotiation for fair settlements

Vigorous courtroom advocacy when needed

Preventive Measures and Employer Accountability

Beyond individual cases, discrimination lawyers work with organizations to audit policies and design bias-reduction training. They craft clear reporting mechanisms and advise leadership on maintaining a fair workplace culture.

Conclusion Discrimination transforms bias into harm when left unchecked. Skilled lawyers empower victims by enforcing rights, securing remedies and reshaping employer practices. Their work restores justice and promotes safe, equitable environments for all employees.