#shifting the paradigm

[jessyka-fitness]

HIDDEN HISTORY OF HUMANITY (UnchartedX) Ben Van Kerkwyk

SHIFTING THE PARADIGM PLAYLIST – https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLneWjPNXc1RwPk7mA_1fMCzLrG0s3j2wT Ben Van Kerkwyk is an Australian researcher, writer and content creator, now based in the United States, and is this week’s guest on Shifting the Paradigm, with Cristina Gomez. Ben produces the UnchartedX.com website and UnchartedX YouTube channel and podcast, producing long-form…

[boymanmaletheshequel]

I can’t help but feel as though the case of Luigi mangione has triggered a paradigm shift that has only just begun, yet has been so long coming. So used to, have we as Americans become of the working class being victimized and abused, that we have dismissed it because we’ve been led by capitalism to believe that they deserved it for not working hard enough, for not being patriotic enough, or not being high class enough to justify valuing them. But Luigi is different, he IS the rich, white collar, educated buisness man that corporate capitalism has deemed the ultimate goal of Americans, he is the poster boy of American idealism, and yet, even he fell victim to the system, and when he fought back agaisnt it, he was treated just as poorly as the common man. They are going to kill him. And if he’s not safe, nobody is. I’m calling this now, they’ll find a way to work around the death penalty restrictions in New York, and they will execute him to send a message to keep us in check so they can continue their reign of cruel and inhuman punishment and destruction. But they won’t realize the martyr they will have given us. The government keeps ensuring that the working class has nothing left to live for or to protect, not realizing that by doing so, they’re simultaneously giving them nothing left to loose by fighting back. And that my friends, is how revolutions begin.

[tonycries]

drunk reader sucking on getos adams apple while he's asleep🥴🥴🥴

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it's hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

“So, I’m sending you over to logistics,” Mr. Odinson nearly knocks over your pen cup as he sits on the corner of your desk. He gargantuan figure makes you fear for the integrity of the furniture beneath him. “I trust you can keep things tidy there.” 

You want to ask why you but don’t dare. Thor can be pleasant enough. Personable, friendly even, but you’ve also heard how his voice turns to thunder when he’s angry. You’re not shy of the stories either. Wandering eyes and hands. You don’t think they’d ever find you but you’d rather steer clear of the risk. 

“Logistics?” You wonder. 

“Mm, yes, my brother and his new partner,” he waves his hand dismissively, “they’re in need of a desk jockey to mind their dates. When I tell you how many meetings I’ve shown up to and met only an empty table.” 

“Uh, yes, sir, that sounds... bad,” you eke out. 

“Mm, yes,” his eyes flick up and down, “as it were, Fandral said you did rather well on his little task force so you will go down and sort them out. I would warn you but it better you find out for yourself. Perhaps those two will not be so difficult for one such as yourself, eh?” 

He taps the tip of your nose and you blink in surprise. You’ve witnessed it before. A bit too touchy for HR’s liking but they don’t do anything about it. After all, if you make money, then who cares how you behave? 

“When do I... start?” You ask. 

“Now,” he shrugs, “suppose sooner is better.” 

“Now?” You can’t help the shock in your voice and he narrows his eyes, “yes, sir. Um...” 

“There are boxes in the copier room, pack up your things, they should be expecting you... I think,” he stands and scratches his beards, “who’s to say if they read the email.” 

You’re hardly feeling good about this. He hasn’t said one thing that’s made you confident in your reassignment. You prefer the familiar and after two years, this is finally comfortable. Of course you’re the sacrifice they’ve chosen. Now you have start all over again. 

You get up as Odinson leaves and you head off to the copy room. You find an empty paper back and return to your desk. You put your pen cup inside, your ergonomic keyboard and mouse, the next person can put in a request, and you empty your single drawer into the bottom. You put your bag and coat on top and bid a wordless goodbye to your cubicle. No one else even seems to notice as you pack up your laptop. 

Logistics. You’re not even sure where that would be. You stick to your little corner of the company and keep your head down. 

You look it up in the office directory. A whole floor down. You get on the elevator and bob impatiently as you descend. You step off and march toward your fate. You slow as you pass between the desks of clacking keys and the smell of stale coffee. No one looks very happy. Even if they gossip terribly upstairs, at least they’re lively. 

No one looks up as you stroll by. Right. Where exactly do you go. You’re not seeing a free desk. You near a door with a placard on it. Laufeyson, Odinson’s brother. You glance over to the next door. Barnes, a newly acquired consultant. Alright. 

You knock on the first door and wait. And wait. And wait. You tap a little harder and hear shuffling from within. You step back as the door opens with a harsh swing inward. 

“What do you--” The tall main with his oily black locks stops himself mid-sentence and tilts his head, “and who are you?” 

Your eyes round. Does he not know? Your brows arch and nearly meet in the middle. You frown. 

“Your brother--” 

“Secretary,” another voice grits like gravel from behind you. “Remember?” 

You turn as the blue-eyed man blows across a mug and tastes his coffee. His hair hangs around his square jaw, a thicker set than the other man. You glance between him and Mr. Laufeyson, “secretary? Well, not exactly, your brother sent me for clerical--” 

“Secretary,” Laufeyson insists, “very well. Suppose it will ease the burden of tracking those mindless check-ins,” he makes a sarcastic quotation with his fingers, “as you will. Send a ticket to IT, have them add you to my calendar.” 

The door closes as swiftly as it opened and you stagger back. You look over at the other man as he approaches the next office and rests his grip on the handle, “My partner, Loki Laufeyson; Bucky Barnes,” He motions to himself with his cup, “send that ticket in and add my name.” 

“Yes, sir, but er, wait, I--” 

He just as quickly dismisses you with the open and close of his door. You stand dumbly in the hall and look around. What a warm welcome. You look down toward the bullpen of desks and further down the hall. So, where are you supposed to work? 

You pace up and down the short hallway. You find a closet full of old mice and keyboards, and the breakroom with its worn-out coffee maker and humming fridge. You can’t exactly work in either.  

You sigh and return to the hall. You plunk yourself down between the doors of your new bosses and open your laptop to balance on the box. You sit on your jacket and keep your purse against your thigh as you sit on your feet. You open up the support portal and file the ticket; first task done. You have to wait for access until you can do anything else since neither of them seem to want to explain very much. 

You shake your head. Why on earth did you think it couldn’t get worse? It surely feels like a demotion to be sat on the carpet with cardboard for a desk.

You wonder why you? You suppose you’re not interesting enough for Mr. Odinson to keep around. Still, he doesn’t need to punish you for not being his type. 

Well, so long as you’re paid, you’ll just have to make it work. 

[hakunahistata]

S.T.A.Y.

Written by hakunahistata with incendiary art by the talented @cassieoh. Written for High Pollen Count, a Good Omens Sex Pollen Event!

Explicit, 14.6K, 2/2 chapters

When Lieutenant Crowley is caught in a dust storm on an unmarked planet during an exploratory mission, nothing seems amiss. It isn’t until he returns onboard the spacecraft, Astra Sequi, that it becomes clear that something is very, very wrong.

Or, Sex Pollen in SPACE 🌌🚀

Have a taste...

Gasps of pleasure fill the small room where Aziraphale sits, the mic picking up every rustle of fabric, the slick slide of skin. A precious whine ripples around him, bringing into focus a reality that Aziraphale has only dreamt of. He shatters under the weight of knowing what pleasure sounds like in Crowley’s mouth.

READ MORE ON AO3

I cannot thank @gaiaseyes451 and @the-literal-kj enough for being the best beta's and friends 🖤

Enormous shout out to @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey, and @adverbian for organizing the High Pollen Count event and creating such a fun, silly, ho®ny corner of the internet!

Tagging my forever family too @goodomensafterdark

[heir-of-the-chair]

(*Aggressively sobbing*) Take what you waaant from me… I give it wiiillingly… the paradise valleyyyy

[atthecenterofeverything]

the problem with trying to come up with absurd over the top examples to explain how diagnoses work or break down general antipsychiatry concepts to people is that no matter what crazy convoluted out-there mode of mental and physical violence you will try to come up with it's 100% guaranteed it's been done before. over and over again it's like "imagine if they classified x as a disorder" they have. "imagine if they accused someone of y" they do. "imagine if you could be institutionalised and lose all autonomy just because of z" you can.

[autball]

Autism as a concept has lived in the pathology paradigm from the very beginning. That’s about a hundred years of seeing Autistic people as “broken” and in need of fixing. It is officially diagnosed as a “disorder,” and the diagnostic criteria are full of pathologizing language. So for most of society, negative language and attitudes around autism are “normal.”

To someone in the medical or mental health field, pathologizing language is also “normal.” Same goes for people in education, particularly special education. It’s just how they talk about patients and students, they don’t mean anything by it, you HAVE to talk about a person’s deficits/symptoms in order to get them help. It’s just…normal.

But sometimes, when something negative is normalized enough, people can mistake it for being “neutral.” Which leads to people arguing that the word “disorder” is neutral, and that the actually neutral language of neurodiversity is “overly positive.”

That’s all incorrect, though. The word “disorder” is not and was never intended to be neutral. The language used to diagnose autism as a medical/mental health condition is not and never has been neutral. And “normalized” is not the same as “neutral.”

And so, here’s a handy dandy (and slightly snarky) graphic for anyone out there whose frame of reference could use some re-centering.

NOTE: Genuine questions are fine. Attempts to argue that pathologizing medical language is neutral OR that autism is a disorder are not. If you are uncomfortable in the realization that the language you’ve been using contributes to negative attitudes towards Autistic people, that’s a sign that you have some stuff to learn, not an invitation to get defensive in my comments section.

ALSO NOTE: Nowhere have I told anyone how to refer to or think of *themselves,* so don’t come at me with that one either.

ALSO ALSO NOTE: I don’t actually endorse anything in the “positive” column either. It is strictly to demonstrate that there is a difference between neutral and positive language, and all of it is meant tongue-in-cheek. Toxic positivity and supremacy don’t help anyone.

[gertstarlight]

poppy and ian competitive kissing to prove they're Totally Not Romantic but they get too caught up in the heat of it all

[youling-the-ghost]

Ok here's my theory as to what the three types of time fuckery meant in Murders in Space:

Time dilation

This one's pretty straightforward. It's the good ol' "travelling close to the speed of light causes the traveller to experience time at a slower rate" thing that some of us might've learned in high school. Not much to say about that.

Time dilution

The way Tom described it made it sound like time dilution is more extreme than time dilation, so I have two theories, either:

time dilution is just an extreme case of time dilation (i.e. what happens when you travel at a speed extremely close to the speed of light, such as 0.99c for example), or;

time dilution is what happens when you travel at the speed of light. Now, this is physically impossible in our world since travelling at light speed would require infinite energy, but let's just say that some crazy scifi shit allows this to happen.

Option 2 would mean that time dilution would cause the scientists to basically stop perceiving time. From their perspective, time intervals would be infinitely large and distances would be infinitely small,

But honestly, I'm the most unsure about this one. Time dilution seems similar enough to time dilation for AJ's scientist character to confuse them, but also option 1 seems kind of redundant? Since time dilation works in the same way when you're travelling at say 0.7c compared to 0.99c, so I'm more inclined to believe option 2.

Time penetration

Judging from how Mary seemingly teleported to the spacecraft, my guess is that time penetration is what happens when you travel at a speed faster than the speed of light. Again, this is physically impossible in our current world, but let's just say that Mary is a genius scientist who's able to break the laws of physics. This one actually makes a lot of sense considering these points:

Mary was able to teleport, which is what scientists have hypothesised would happen if one were to travel faster than light speed.

It would make sense why Mary spent so long trying to get to her husband. Literally breaking the laws of physics isn't a project that can be finished in a couple of months.

Also the whole "time penetration is impossible" thing because yeah...travelling faster than the speed of light is considered to be impossible.

So yeah, I'm actually pretty confident with this one.

BUT HEY, THAT'S JUST A THEORY! A SHOOT FROM THE HIP THEORY! Thanks for reading this incredibly self-indulgent post :]

[lebuc]

this paradigm shifting

* this latest paradigm shifting, a sign of impending strife

or is it simply grifting & dismissing with the honed end of a pointed knife, moving forward

to that which most of us deem untoward:

rewarding those already hoarding the largess the rest of us would otherwise possess, in the best of times;

unnecessitating this crest of rhymes attesting to such, brinking on the verge of being too much in a surge of reflective thinking & hopefully not too much drinking to assuage the pain, draining the will to do naught but sit still - but then, again until we decide strategically to pay the bill, since we drank from freedom's cup near-filled to the tip-top from the bottom up;

for now, there remains but a few sips in our view which could be mistaken for a 'mourning' type dew by its scarcity & the tragedy of its taking

should our purview remain waning & shaking, unstirred - at this occasion of a dream deferred upon waking, by huns at the helm, or should i say curs…

& the dream train once on track, now deterred by those who wish to tack, take back what we preferred to remain a part of the terrain - laid, paved & trod in halting, but not faltering paces

reflecting an evident pride on our faces for making this faux-merited space* a home for many a creed & race, even at a stuttering pace in yet segregated homes comparatively degraded.

if truly meant, what was written in a document of note of which many were & are still smitten, still harboring hope that we'd fulfill its lilting words' heft

with the spirit of those not yet bereft of curds of courage to face the bellowing herds heralding a purge of persons at the flick of foul words; who parse their prounouns, nurse the verb 'to be', & verse the adjective 'inclusively' cursively, not curtly; who deny & dismiss a woeful missal to homogenize, neutralize & ostracize as unoffical

some good folk - in an stunning reversal of DEI, where all 'outside the pale' need not apply - joke/no joke.

already fatigued of the flack upon the redux & the mess the rest of his back-slapping crew promote clearly & hotly, in a spirit quite mottley ( a snickering doge, 'f you get the reference/pun )

…& frankly, that's all i gottly, this here traipse around the sun. * 4/25 - lebuc - this paradigm shifting (...it's reigning men - hold the hallelujahs)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it’s hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Dark roast, black. You're tempted to order one for yourself but the extra dose of caffeine might unhinge you after the morning you've had. Transfer, no desk, a firing, a stolen desk, and two painfully aloof bosses.  

You go back up to the office, the short reprieve offering some clarity but not solutions. There has to be some way to get more than a grunt and a closed door from these men. Geez, if you wanted to work with children you would've done so. 

You knock on Mr. Barnes' door. The one next to it opens first. Laufeyson considers you from head to toe and Barnes appears not a second after. He takes his cup without a thanks. 

"Mm, and where is mine then?" Laufeyson challenges. 

You blink, long and hard. Of course. Of course! You let out a slow breath, "what would you like, Mr. Laufeyson?" 

You don't miss the quiet snort from the other door and it closes before you can glance Barnes' expression. You have a suspicion he expected this. It's like your first job when you worked with a bunch of men in stocks. Their numbers were as bloated as their egos. 

“Matcha.” 

The door shuts in your face. Again. You bite down and stretch your fingers wide. It’s fine. It’s fine. Growing pains. 

Matcha... what? Iced? Latte? Hot tea? Smoothie? Wonderful, a guessing game. 

You will be getting yourself another coffee for the trouble. Another trip to Roasters and you settle on the simplest option; just tea. You’re certain if you’re wrong, he’ll let you know.  

You stand at the two office doors and contemplate your life decisions. Is this worth it? Can you beg Odinson to take you back? To send down another poor soul? You almost feel bad doing that to someone else. You’re about to give when that innate stubborn ticks in your jaw. It’s only been a few hours. You don’t just give up that easy. 

Knock, knock. There’s a delay before Laufeyson answers. You’re not put off by it. You know the tactic. It won’t work on you. If his tea is cold, it won’t be your fault. 

“Matcha, sir,” you hold out the cup. 

He accepts it and reads the sticker on the side. He narrows his green eyes and looks at you, “note for next time, I prefer Garcon’s to Roasters.” 

Click. Another shut door. You’re really starting to get angry. You laugh out the flurry of agitation and turn away. What else can you do but think of it as a joke? It has to be. It’s just that absurd. 

You sit at the desk and open your laptop. You get it hooked up to the monitor and refinagle the cords. That’s an accomplishment at least. A tiny morsel of victory. You glance around and frown. It’s like the waiting room in Beetlejuice; everyone looks miserable. Well, can you blame them? 

Your phone buzzes and you check the messages. Girl nights hangs like bait at the end of your day, keeping you swimming through dark waters. It’s a bit ridiculous. Your friends are all like you in one way but all vastly different in many other ways. You all spend your days taking care of men who couldn’t give a shit about any of you. 

You can already taste the Paloma; bitter grapefruit with the burn of tequila. You are dying to drink away this day. You look at the clock and nearly whimper. It’s not even one o’clock. Ugh. 

You plug away at your desk. You get the daily agendas templated then spend time scouring the web. You have something in mind. You’re pretty sure you can make it work. As long as those grumps can do the simplest of tasks. 

You customize the survey and send the link. You doubt you’ll get a response today or even at all. It’s a hail mary, really. Barnes’ door opens, then Laufeysons. Your chest fills with dread. Great. 

“Hello, sir and... sir,” you sit up as they approach. 

“What is the meaning of that quiz?” Laufeyson demands. 

“It’s not-- 

“Asking a lot, aren’t you?” Barnes crosses his arms. 

“No, I just--” 

“What business do you have about my dry cleaning?” Laufeyson hisses. 

“I have lunch when I have lunch. I'm not a child at grade school,” Barnes sneers.

“Okay, woah,” you put your palms out, “first, there’s an n/a column, you can choose not to disclose the information. Two, I need to know what to do. What do you want from me?” 

Both men frown and look at each other, then back to you. 

“I can think of one,” Laufeyson raises a finger, “don’t treat us as children who need you to put our socks on.” 

“Good one,” Barnes scoffs, “also, you could stop with calendar reminders.” 

“Those are automatic,” you mutter. 

“And the arguing,” Laufeyson points at you. 

You sputter, dizzy at their onslaught of criticism. They can tell you exactly what they don’t want but they can’t give you a clear answer as to why you are there. You calm yourself with a breath and sip of coffee. 

“Mr. Laufeyson, Mr. Barnes--” 

“Why him first? My name’s first alphabetically,” Barnes says. 

“I--” you stop yourself and take another taste of your coffee, “if my presence is getting in the way of your work, I will go back upstairs and talk to Mr. Odinson--” 

“Mr. Odinson? Thor?” Laufeyson says, “no, you won’t do that. In fact, that is another item for your list, no talking to my brother. Especially of me.” 

You could tear your hair out. You could hit your head on the wall. You could gauge your eyes out and drown yourself in your coffee. Instead, you smile. 

“Got it,” you say, “well, sirs, good luck with your meeting this afternoon.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Laufeyson intones. 

“Mm, sure,” Barnes says and they both turn on their heels then stop at once. They face you in sync with each other. 

“Meeting?” They ask. 

“Mmhm,” you nod, “it’s in your calendars.” 

They stare at you. 

“If that’s something you’d like me to brief you on,” you say tritely, “you can submit that in the survey.” 

Laufeyson hums dryly and Barnes growls. Neither says anything further as they retreat. You keep your eyes on the screen as your heartbeat races. You can’t believe you said that. 

[hyperblue]

I really want more ppl to focus on the fact that Tim would be a 16 year old father, like ik it's already a known fact but I just really want it to be talked about deeper, that's a CHILD having to care for a whole other CHILD and I am aware of what that does to someone's brain and I really would love for someone to write/talk more in depth about it yk? Like, being 16 and you're raising someone, and you have to go through all this shit!

You have this bond that you've never felt before but you're also not prepared for this, what are you supposed to do? Are you even doing it right?

I also think that with the childhood he had it would be harder, he doesn't know anything when it comes to children and now he has to raise one?

I can't stop thinking about what his internal monolog would be.

Baby won't stop crying? You're doing something wrong obviously.( it's so normal, so very normal, I cannot stress enough how NORMAL this is)

Mood swings, your child telling you they hate you? Where did you go wrong, you're obviously horrible if your 2y/o is telling you they hate you( also incredibly normal)

The amount of stress that he would go through, especially if this is one of those things he chose to do on his own. Raising kids is HARD, it's so incredibly hard and being a child yourself makes it ten times harder even WITH a support system.

It's beyond stressful, and sometimes all you want to do is scream, but you can't, so what is there to do?

Having help is so important for parents and I think that if Kon came back and CHOSE to help even if Tim told him he didn't have to it would be such a huge weight off his back.

YES YES YES TELL ME MORE

it doesn't MATTER how independent he's convinced he is, it doesn't matter how much complicated shit he had to go through alone as tim drake AND robin, it doesn't matter how capable he might be, he is a CHILD. as a 24 year old, 16-17 y. o. teenagers are like literal babies to me. and i also have siblings, all of them are more than 10 years apart from me, so i had to have a front row seat watching my mother and grandmother raise them and it's a colossal work, it really is. if i were to write a fic i would definitely explore the struggle of being a child with a child, because that's one of the most fascinating things about this au to me (even though it's a fucked up situation for sure. it's like watching a train wreck — you'd love to turn away but you literally can't)

[ancientstuff]

A fascinating, long, and relatively academic article on the 'invisibility' of Egyptian archaeologists in the early 20th century. The paradigm shift Doyon discusses has been slow in the making, but is extremely important in the field of Egyptology as a whole.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Take care of yourself, girlies~♡

The aenergies last couple of weeks have been strange and shifting a lot. There seem to be incessant drama and a disturbing sense of dissatisfaction all around the world. Hmm…they’re trying to get ‘your approval’ for WW3, so it’s best to stay in your high vibrations by taking care of yourself and not get dragged into political drama LMAO

New PAC dropping this weekend. It’s overdue but if it’s the timing, it’s the timing v( ´ ▽ ` )

I’ll be posting some more updates about the blog in the coming week~ I hope you’re excited for some new types of content that will appear on the blog ^^

Take care and eat well~🥞

[anneapocalypse]

The thing is, even if Lucanis did hate mages generally (which as @dreadfutures says here, is probably not why he's called the Mage Killer), surely we can understand that that means something completely different in the north than it would in the south, right?

It's going to be really interesting to see how the fandom engages with Tevinter tbh. Like, back in DA2, a lot of people thought Fenris was pretty unreasonable about mages. It's easy to feel that way. Even I feel it sometimes and I love Fenris. But then you take a step back, and you remember that his entire life experience is mages having absolute power over him and using that power to cause endless suffering. Those people are still chasing him until Act III, making it difficult for him to shift his paradigm and see the situation in the south for what it is. And some players, even knowing that context, still had trouble seeing Fenris for anything more than a bigot. They couldn't see his context anymore than he could see Anders' or Merrill's.

And as players who have played and loved three games set in the south of Thedas, we are the ones who are going to have to shift our perspectives now. The power structures in the north are different. The way they operate and maintain their power is different. Sure, the base principles still apply, but the devil's in the details. Someone "hating mages" simply does not have the same connotations in the context of the north. If a character in Tevinter says something like, I don't know, "Something must be done about those mages," it doesn't in any way mean the same thing as it would when spoken in Orlais under the southern Chantry. And maybe I'm just stating the obvious, but Idk, I felt like it warranted saying, not just for Lucanis but for all the new characters we're going to be meeting in the north.