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ldysmfrst · 1 year ago

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American Mate - (4)

First Case of Alpha Space

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 4 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 4,731

Work count for Story: 17,363

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I have had to take time off work to accommodate many MANY doctor appointments. I started a Ko-fi if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter does have Injury, Anxiety, Panic attacks, comfort, Alpha Space, and Cultural differences.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Is it really that big of a deal that you got hurt? My god, you were 35 already. You have never lived a sheltered life. You have had your fair share of broken bones, twisted ankles, scrapes, and bruises.

You are always going on adventures, riding horses, and climbing things you probably should not be climbing. Most of the external scars you bear are associated with stories that are good conversation starters when you feel like showing them.

Things would be difficult for a while because you are undeniably right-handed. You have a few days of sick time saved up that you can use to start with. Hopefully, this will help you gain some compliance from your wayward left hand.

Work, however, is going to be the hard part. Luckily, your work is typically done on electronics, meaning nothing has to be handwritten. Even if you tried to write left-handed, no one could read it. You would bet money doctors had better handwriting skills than your left hand did in its pinky. Dictation software to save the day!

Hearing Derek’s voice broke you out of your thoughts regarding your near future. Watching him act cautiously while interacting with the other hybrid was interesting. There is clearly a difference in how he acts with Yoongi than with Evie.

Giggling to yourself at the mention of being a mate with Derek gains the attention of both. Shaking your head, you explain, “Oh, sorry. The thought of being a mate, much less to Derek, was amusing, I guess.”

You missed the slight frown that briefly graced both men’s faces. Derek thought you were implying he wasn’t mate-material, and Yoongi thought you believed you were not worthy of being a mate.

“Thanks, Y/n. I let you know that I am a catch despite being a Beta. Besides, this isn’t about me right now. We need to get the leadership involved with what to do moving forward. Are you okay if we bring in the others?”

“Yes, please. I need to speak with Director Johnson, fill out an incident report… um or dictate an incident report, and then get to a doctor,” you agree. Attempting to stand up, you are blocked by the golden-yellow eyes that have not stopped watching your every move.

“Mr. Min, I need to get some things done and take care of my wrist,” you say with a hint of confusion because you know he knows that you need medical attention, but he isn’t letting you.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow, and a soft growl pours through the room, causing your eyes to widen. You look over your shoulder at Derek with a ‘what-the-F-did-I-do’ expression, only to be met with a smirk.

“Y/n, I don’t think you understand what is going on. You haven’t dealt with a situation like this before. You may love hybrids, but you still have limited interactions with our culture and this dynamic.” Walking backward toward the door, Derek continues, “With the state of mind that Mr. Min is in, it might be best if a packmate of his explains.”

Derek opens the break room door to face Hoseok, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jungkook, all staring. “Oh, Hi there.”

Then, as if someone had turned the mute off, they all started talking simultaneously.

“Is Yoongi-hyung dropped yet?”

“그 사람 괜찮아요?”

“Why does she still smell hurt?”

“Wait, wait, wait, please,” Derek puts his hands up, motioning to stop. "I do not know Korean, for one, and for two, Mr. Min has gone into full nonverbal Alpha Space, and I am not sure he will be coming out of it anytime soon. However, one of you should go in to handle the situation, and Y/n needs to talk with Director Johnson.”

At the mention of the director, a low growl came from Taehyung, causing Derek to take a step back and lower his eyes in an automatic response to a displeased Alpha.

The scent of calming leather gently flows over the group at the door as Namjoon steps forward. His mind is still reeling a million miles a second with you being their mate and you being injured. To top it off, Yoongi is on a deep level of Alpha Space.

“Sorry about that. I can come in, but the director is busy at the moment. He is dealing with the Playmates, your corporate office, and Manager Sejin,” apologizes Namjoon as he enters the room.

He follows Derek to where his packmate and Y/n are situated at a table. Taehyung and Jungkook follow quickly, sneaking in before the door closes all the way. They both kneel respectfully behind Yoongi. Their Alphas recognize that Yoongi is currently in charge of you, and it would be unwise to display anything that could be considered a threat by approaching you too quickly.

They both need to be close to you, and their instincts to be with their newly discovered but injured mate drive their actions. Looking you over for injuries, their eyes resting on your wrist with furrowed brows and set jaws. Taehyung’s eyes change to crystal blue as his tail flickers almost in time with Yoongi’s as he slips into Alpha Space.

“Namjoon-hyung, Miss Y/n is hurt. She needs a hospital, I think,” Jungkook says, his ears standing straight up on his head, one-pointedly focused on you and the other twitching between his Prime Alpha and the door.

“It is not that big of an issue, Mr. Jeon, Mr. Min, and Mr. Kim.” Looking up from the trio in front of you and addressing the Prime Alpha, “Sir, I have specific protocols to follow due to company procedure. I must talk with the Director.”

A growl from one of the men in front of you freezes your words, unsure of what you did to cause their reactions. Internally, you groan because it seems all you get from them are growls as if you vex them more than humanly possible.

“Miss Y/n, we have already talked to Director Johnson,” Namjoon says with a look of distaste.

“He has been informed that you are now under the care of Bangtan Pack following hybrid customs,” Namjoon says. "It would be wise to refrain from talking about him at the moment; he did not leave a good impression with the pack.”

Your brows scrunch in confusion, making the hybrids want to coo at your cute face. Clearing his throat (aka his mind), Namjoon continues, “We have more pressing matters to attend to besides paperwork.”

“You are injured, and we have to get you to a doctor. Manager Sejin is currently contacting one of our personal physicians that we normally use while on tour to have you treated.”

“What? Why would I use your doctor? I can just go to the local clinic,” you quick question. Your scent spikes almost like a heavy perfume with anxiety with the flashbacks of your nightmare.

“Please, I have taken up much of your time, and caused enough problems as it is. I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be a bother,” you plead.

At your words, you are surrounded by multiple growls and watched by now golden-yellow, crystal blue, and smokey gray eyes. Scooting back in the chair as if the quarter inch gained would save you, you nervously ask, “Derek, what did I do?”

“Y/n, you really don’t get it do you? For as smart as you are, sometimes you can be oblivious,” Derek scoffs teasingly. Smiling, he shakes his head, stepping back from the group and heading towards the door. “Mr. Kim, as Prime Alpha, you might want to explain what is happening and what she should be expecting. Mind you, she has been fiercely independent for the last 15 years of her life.”

“I wish you the best with her. It won’t be easy, trust me, I know. Good luck,” says Derek as he bows slightly to Namjoon once he reaches the break room door.

Looking at you again, this time with a smile filled with adoration for his best friend and what he thinks your future may hold, Derek says, “Relax and have fun.” Then he turns and leaves the room.

As Derek leaves the room, he smiles at the remaining pack guarding the door. “Mr. Kim, Mr. Jung, and Mr. Park, I think your human does not understand what is happening.”

“Our human? So, you know?” Seokjin questions with wide, cautious eyes.

Derek looks over his shoulder at the closed break room door. His mind conjures up all the ways this could go sideways, but he focuses on all the ways this could be the best thing for you.

“At first, I thought it was just a typical Alpha reaction with him being the cause of Y/n getting injured, but his care and gentleness seemed to come from somewhere deeper. Add on the fact that your other two are fighting Alpha Space. It would be hard to miss,” says the fox hybrid with a softness.

“The other two?” someone asks.

Shaking his head, Derek looks back at the remaining three, saying, “Yes, the younger Mr. Kim and Mr. Jeon’s Alphas surfaced just before I left. Your Prime Alpha is going to try to sort things out, but he may need some back up.”

“Meanwhile, I am going to find our boss and see what needs to be done before you all run away with her,” comments Derek, leaving the pack to mull over the new information.

“Tae has never been one to control his Alpha well when one of us is hurt. I am not surprised if he slipped once near her. Kook always runs on instinct too, so it makes sense he slipped as well,” Seokjin contemplates.

“Should we stay out here? Miss Y/n’s pack member said it would be better to go in and help Namjoon? Three of us in Alpha space with an injured mate is not going to be easy,” Hoseok adds.

Nibbling on his lower lip, Jimin thinks of ways to handle the situation. Even though he is one of the younger packmates, keeping the pack calm is his gift.

He just doesn’t know how to handle you yet, especially since you don’t know what you mean to the pack.

“Good, at least three of you are here, and I assume the rest have made their way into the room with Miss Y/n,” Manager Sejin says while walking up to the group. “I have spoken with Big Hit, the Director at Playmate Service Incorporated, and Dr. Blackwell. Everyone is onboard and the doctor is ready to go.”

“Relax and have fun? What does he mean by that?” You mumble as you glare at the now-closed door that one of your best friends just shut.

He willingly left you with four Alpha male idols.

Three of them are kneeling on the floor with non-human eyes, and the Prime Alpha, looking around the room like the way to explain what's happening is painted on the walls.

Taking a breath, you say, “Mr. Kim, Prime Alpha… Sir. Derek is right. I have no actual experience with Alphas. I can tell that there must be some kind of instinctual drive going on, and there are trigger words or actions.”

“I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have. What do I do to make it easier for your pack?” you question.

At your words, the kneeling Alphas gave a multitude of pleasant chirps because you may not consciously know what to do but you are still acting like a baby mate. You looked at the three of them, a little confused. They seemingly smiled and made almost the same sound as when you said that.

Okay, so they can growl and chirp. Your curiosity spikes when you think of what other animal-like sounds they can make as hybrids.

Drawing your attention back to him, Namjoon finds the words to explain what is happening, “Miss Y/n, you have done so much to help the Bangtan Pack feel welcome today.”

With a gentle smile, he continues, “So please relax, you have not caused any trouble, and we highly doubt that you will.”

He thought, ‘At least, not in the way you seem to be thinking.’

“Alpha’s run with a higher level of instinct than your Beta pack member. As an Alpha, Yoongi-hyung instinctually feels responsible for your injury. In order to calm that instinct, a few things will most likely need to happen.” Watching you sit up with interest, he continues, “First things first, he and his Alpha need to get at least your injury treated.”

“He has to be the one to take me to get it treated?” You start to ramble with concern, “I can’t have him go with me to the clinic! There are fans and sasaengs and the media! What about your schedule? You always hear about the tight schedules Idols have and you have already spent all afternoon here over this.”

You start panicking about the hordes of people you hear about following the band around. God, the amount of bad publicity would come from catching you and THE Suga of BTS at a clinic. You can’t imagine what nonsense they would come up with?

Your scent goes into an even heavier version; it takes on an almost alcoholic aspect. The kneeling Alphas instinctually send out calming pheromones while moving closer.

Yoongi’s tail, still wrapped around your ankle, tightens while he gently rubs the back of your injured hand, which he is cradling protectively. He wiggles forward an inch or two to ensure you realize he is still there and isn’t going anywhere.

Taehyung starts to purr softly but loud enough for you to at least hear it. His mates have always found ease in their emotions and pain with his purring, so he hopes the sound will comfort you similarly.

Jungkook, running on instinct alone, scoots up to your left side, nudges his head under your left hand, and rests on your leg. Touch and cuddling are strong hybrid traits that naturally bring peace to most, and being a bunny hybrid, Jungkook loves to share his cuddles more than the others.

The feeling of Jungkook’s head on your leg snaps you out of your thoughts and brings you back into the room. You hold still as you start to recognize similar comforting behaviors the Alphas are doing with those that Evie always does, allowing you to take a deep breath.

“Sorry. I was raised to take care of myself and not impose on others,” you softly say.

“Miss Y/n, you are not imposing. Again, Yoongi-hyung ran into you while rushing out of the room, and it's his responsibility to make amends. Actually, as a bonded pack, it is our responsibility, too,” explains Namjoon.

“The pack? Like all of you? Is this why they are all like this, with their eyes and stuff?” you question with a scrunched face.

Absent-mindedly, you run your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, softly scratching his scalp, soothing not only yourself but also the youngest Alpha.

A soft chuckle escapes Namjoon as he watches your instinctual interactions with the youngest mate. He answers, “Yes, that is the best way to explain the eyes and stuff, as you put it.”

“Jungkook-ah and Taehyung-ah will find it easier to leave their Alpha Space since they are not the ones responsible for the injury but trying to be supportive to both of you,” informs the Prime Alpha as you nod in understanding, which he thinks is you not really understanding but just going along with it.

Hearing a knock on the door, he calls, “Who is it?”

“Namjoon-ssi, it's Manager Sejin. I have some updates and a few questions. Can I enter?” a voice calls as the door opens slightly to reveal it’s him.

At Namjoon's nod, he enters. The door remains open as the scents in the room are constricting in their density. He is followed by the rest of the pack, who take up guarding now from inside. With the mixed emotions in the scent-filled room, the Alphas worry that it will reach other hybrids who will come to investigate.

“Did you contact everyone?” asks Namjoon.

“Big Hit and the Corporate Director are on the same page and will follow the hybrid protocol, but details must be discussed once Miss Y/n has met with the doctor,” Manager Sejin reports to the Prime Alpha.

Moving to look at you, he continues, “I contacted Dr. Blackwell, thinking you may be more comfortable with a female doctor. We have her on retainer to work with some of the female back up dancers on the tour as well as the pack.”

He glances at the boys surrounding you closely, noting the change in their eyes; his scent changes with curiosity. He raises an eyebrow, looking at Namjoon. With a subtle nod, he confirms that something more is happening but does not move to explain.

Looking back at you, he gently smiles, “With the situation at hand, it may be best to limit other males around you until everyone is out of Alpha space. They tend to get territorial. Dr. Blackwell is on standby, ready to assess and treat you once we know where you will be.”

You look at the manager like he is missing something, or maybe you are as you question, “Why wouldn’t she just come here, or I go to her?”

“Miss Y/n, Dr. Blackwell is a traveling physician. She doesn’t have a permanent office to use but she is well respected in both the human and hybrid communities.”

“Oh, I see. Well, umm…” you look at Namjoon and ask, “What option would be best for your pack?”

Namjoon’s chest puffs slightly at your show of respect to him as the Pack Prime Alpha despite the situation and your pain level. “Not to make you uncomfortable, Miss Y/n, but I think meeting Dr. Blackwell at our Airbnb would be best,” he answers.

You take a moment to think, your hand pulsing with pain now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off. They cannot all fit in your flat. Heck, it's barely big enough for you, Evie, and Derek to hang out in; plus, it's a mess after you tore through your closet to find the right clothes for today.

If the growls were any indication, they didn’t seem to like being at PMS. Instinctually, even Derek and Evie prefer being in their dens when one of the three of you is hurt or sick. Making your decision, you look at the manager and then Namjoon. “Okay. If it is best for the pack, I will go with you to the Airbnb to see Dr. Blackwell.”

It’s almost as if a weight is lifted out of the room, allowing the pack to take a breath.

“Alphas Yoon, Kook, and Tae. Can you give Miss Y/n some room? We have to take her to the pack house to see a doctor,” Namjoon says with a firm voice, gaining smiles from the men kneeling on the floor.

Jungkook stands, quickly moving and curling into the Prime Alpha, his eyes returning to their natural color. Namjoon rubs his back, scenting him lightly to show his pride in the youngest Alpha’s actions to help soothe the baby mate.

Taehyung rocks back on his heels but remains close to you as his purring stops. His body is more relaxed, but his eyes are still crystal blue, shifting between Yoongi and you in wait.

After watching the two younger Alphas move around, your attention turns to the black jaguar kneeling with expectant, questioning eyes. He still cradles your hand as if it were his most precious possession, and his tail hasn’t moved from its coil around your ankle.

You tentatively ask, “Mr. Min, if I promise that you can stay with me, will you let me go get my things, and then you can take me to your pack house?”

Yoongi’s face lights up with a gummy smile as he nods. Your breath hitches at the sight. How can the devastatingly rogue-like handsome rapper look so adorable?

He stands up, his tail unwrapping from your leg. He softly takes both of your hands while he assists you in standing. You smile and mumble a small thanks as you step forward to leave but pause, turning to Namjoon.

“Prime Alpha, do you think I can talk with Derek briefly to let him know what is happening? This way, he can talk to the direc… Boss. Talk to the boss and let him know that I am leaving for the day?” you ask, but your voice is firm as if you were telling the Prime Alpha what needs to happen without blatantly taking control of the situation.

“Yes, talking to him will be fine. He has been established as part of your familial pack and won’t be considered a threat to the pack if he comes around you now,” Namjoon answers, moving out of your way and motioning for the rest to let you pass.

Bowing slightly, “Thank you, Prime Alpha.”

Making it to your desk is apparently more complicated than one would think.

Yoongi won’t leave your right side, while Taehyung won’t leave your left. Both act like it's code red, and someone is trying to assassinate you. Then, the rest of BTS trails behind like some kind of posse.

You keep your head down to avoid any strange looks or glares from whomever you pass. To your relief, you find Derek waiting at your desk with his head resting on his palms and a mischievous smile.

“I see you are taking things in stride,” glancing at your plethora of bodyguards. “Did the Prime Alpha explain everything to you?”

Speaking up from the back of the group, Namjoon answers for you: “She is aware that we are responsible for her at this time, and she will be treated by our doctor at our temporary pack house.”

You don’t miss Derek's look of concern as he tilts his head with curiosity at Namjoon. “I see, of course. You are just responsible for getting her treated. Hybrid customs and all.”

“Derek, can you please let the big boss know that I will be leaving with Bangtan Pack to seek medical care and once I have more updates, I will let you both know?”

Glancing at Yoongi and still seeing his lovely golden-yellow eyes, you try to ignore the slight flutter in your stomach, “I don’t think it would be good for me to talk with him myself right now.”

Derek nods in response, “Manager Sejin has already given the boss a rough time frame for the near future. I suppose his managing skills came in handy. Don’t worry about us here, we will get a temp while you heal.”

Standing up, Derek passes you your purse, which Taehyung takes. You try to grab it again, but only to have a black and white tail wrap around your arm and bring it back down to your side.

“No carry. Keep safe.” Taehyung almost grunts out in a deeper-than-deep voice, which short-circuits your brain. You knew he was the deep voice of the group, but that was not his singing voice.

Glancing at Derek out of the side of your eye, you see him briefly nod and smile encouragingly while he whispers, “It’s an Alpha Space thing. Best acknowledge his help.”

“Umm… Th-tha-hank you, Alpha,” you stammer out, willing the heat creeping up your neck to stop as your words pull a boxy grin from the Tiger hybrid.

“I think that is it,” you announce to nobody in particular. You smile awkwardly at Derek as he seemingly takes you in like he has never seen you before.

“Y/n, you have been through so much. Not just today but in your life. You have always been the one to take the blame for others, working harder or longer than anyone else and caring for those who never return the favor,” he says, his eyes glance at the men surrounding you as he sees nods of understanding and looks of concern from them.

As a soft smile blooms on his face, he holds onto your good hand, “Take time for yourself and let this pack of Alphas take care of you. You deserve it more than anyone else I know.”

He pulls you into a hug. You briefly stiffen, waiting for the growling and pulling to start, but to your surprise, it doesn't. Relaxing into his hug, you take his words to heart.

A soft whisper in your ear: “You know you will always have Evie and me as your family pack, but right now, be open to the pack around you. " With one last squeeze, Derek steps back and returns to your desk. "Now, shoo! Off you go. The boss said I’ll get to man the front desk for now.”

With a nod, you wave goodbye and face the hybrids behind you. After not finding Manager Sejin and a few others missing, your eyes settle automatically on Namjoon. With a slight frown, you wait for a clue as to what to do next.

“Manager Sejin went down to get the cars. Seokjin-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Jimin-ah also went down because we won’t all fit in the elevator,” reassures Namjoon.

“Oh,” you feel a slight tightening in your chest after realizing you didn’t even notice they had gone.

“Miss Y/n, let's take you to get looked at,” Jungkook says while inching towards the office doors. His Alpha wanting to get you away from the hallway that leads to the offices where he knows the Playmates who hurt you are being kept.

You follow the bunny and wolf hybrid while still sandwiched between the tiger and jaguar hybrids. Walking through the halls, you gain some attention from the people you pass. You’re a mere human surrounded by some of the hottest Idols in the world right now. So why wouldn’t they?

Not willing to look up, you keep your eyes cast down to the feet in front of you as you try to avoid what you are a gazillion percent sure are looks of disgust and hate toward you. Normally, you can walk the halls without drawing attention unless Reina is around. While Reina made sure everyone noticed you in a negative way, you fail to notice the glaring looks of the Alphas surrounding you, which has silenced most of the current gossiping.

Once the elevator doors open, the tiger lets out a low growl. Glancing up, you see two fellow PMS employees quickly scamper out of the elevator and down the hall. Well, that is another embarrassing incident that you will have to deal with when you return to work.

Namjoon and Jungkook take the back corners. Looking at the men by your sides, they motion for you into the elevator next. However, when you go to stand in another corner, you are quickly ushered back into the middle with Yoongi and Taehyung in front of you.

The tense energy calms down as the doors close. The threats in the hallway, the Playmate enemies, and the bumbling director are no longer a concern. The four Alphas relax now that they are the only ones to surround you and are taking care of you.

Even if your trust in them starts with an injury, they know this is their chance to show you what it means to be taken care of, acknowledged as precious, and loved endlessly by the seven of them.

As the elevator doors part, you're immediately greeted by the remaining packmates waiting for you, smiles warm and welcoming. They're surrounded by more men in black, whom you assume are bodyguards. The sheer amount of people outside the elevator is a bit intimidating.

Turning to look at you, Yoongi speaks for the first time since he entered Alpha Space, “Take home. Keep safe.”

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Taglist - CLOSED

@braveangel777 @bethanysnow @smileykiddie08 @kayways @danielle143 @nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie

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odinsblog · 5 months ago

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Kenn Dahl says he has always been a careful driver. The owner of a software company near Seattle, he drives a leased Chevrolet Bolt. He’s never been responsible for an accident.

So Mr. Dahl, 65, was surprised in 2022 when the cost of his car insurance jumped by 21 percent. Quotes from other insurance companies were also high. One insurance agent told him his LexisNexis report was a factor.

LexisNexis is a New York-based global data broker with a “Risk Solutions” division that caters to the auto insurance industry and has traditionally kept tabs on car accidents and tickets. Upon Mr. Dahl’s request, LexisNexis sent him a 258-page “consumer disclosure report,” which it must provide per the Fair Credit Reporting Act.

What it contained stunned him: more than 130 pages detailing each time he or his wife had driven the Bolt over the previous six months. It included the dates of 640 trips, their start and end times, the distance driven and an accounting of any speeding, hard braking or sharp accelerations. The only thing it didn’t have is where they had driven the car.

On a Thursday morning in June for example, the car had been driven 7.33 miles in 18 minutes; there had been two rapid accelerations and two incidents of hard braking.

According to the report, the trip details had been provided by General Motors — the manufacturer of the Chevy Bolt.

Eight insurance companies had requested information about Mr. Dahl from LexisNexis over the previous month.

(continue reading)

#lexisnexis #insurance #car insurance #data mining #privacy rights #privacy rights violations

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 25 days ago

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tuesday again 5/27/2025

no lesbian novel this week! didn’t get to read much at work bc i had to do my actual job :( did manage to do some sewing

listening

ive been bumping this since the end of the season tbqh. the way in-universe this has been a chart-topping party song for over a year??? with its own little dance??? how Niamos is the name of a beach planet so this is functionally a Pitbull song where he yells MIAMI!!!! which is all of them???? show of all time. show of all fucking time.

it’s not on streaming platforms but THE IN UNIVERSE ELEVATOR REMIX!!!! FUCK!!! WHAT IF STAR WARS WAS GOOD!!!

reading

did not manage to read a lesbian novel. did manage to read half a book ive had in hold since january 2 of this year and i did not like it :(

this is playing in the same space as Canticle for Leibowitz and anything else that treats software programming as a magical mystical art with priests and such. love this space! you can probably name three more off the top of your head!

while it does have a fascinating 1920s level of technology world (aside from the big magical barrier), it really flounders about in the middle. the twist was pretty clearly telegraphed (fine) but after the twist i had zero desire to continue onward. i had no real interest in how or why this huge overarching societal problem could be solved, and think i could have liked it more if it were either novella or short story length. would be perfect as a classic episode of the twilight zone.

it also strikes a little too close to home for me with its depiction of a far-right religious cult running everything and a depressingly accurate depiction of what it’s like to be a woman in hard stem, down to the sexual assault from a person in the same research group. the two-thirds of the book i read was really just real life as a woman postgrad without many scifi elements. the promise of scifi elements were why i picked up the book, bc i was interested in a hard sci take on dark academia. further annoyances: i also did not love the “they’re trying to keep you PLACID and QUIET and WOMANLY!!!” scene with a doctor. there is an additional second-wave feminist stink around the “original” flavor of magic, stolen from the original women of the land. i hesitate to call it terfy. if i met someone with these views in the real world I would certainly ask more questions before scheduling a second hang. yanno?

watching

john wick the fourth bc i unexpectedly have peacock access. video game cutscene lookin ass movie (lovingly). the visual style, lighting, and nods to other movies (genuinely gasped out loud at a specific match cut bc the reference made sense within the plot and wasn’t just a fun visual) are all off the chain. slightly longer than i wanted it to be— the last chase/gun battle through paris dragged a bit despite having some of the coolest set pieces.

playing

nothing fun to report in genshin this week. still don’t have enough to guarantee the pink fox lady so i think i will bide my time and wait for skirk to drop at some point the next patch (yet another patch with no map update :( curious)

making

trying to clean my house or finish some projects whenever i want to leave my house or spend money. has led to a much cleaner house but a much more housebound me. anyway here’s a scrub cap with fabric a friend bought and asked “hey can you make me a scrub cap” When I Moved To Houston Nearly Two Years Ago. plus the lining galaxy fabric, bought at the joanns closest to umass in mmm 2017?

came home from work friday morning to discover catnip strewn about the living room bc da gorls managed to rip holes in BOTH mr cactus kickers. a somewhat slapdash mend but reinforced with fraychek so the next time they bite and tear the fabric Next to the patch will tear

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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aylen-san · 7 months ago

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Welcome to my reality. No, not the one where I tower in horror over Middle-earth with the last armies of orcs and a darkness that envelops all life. Today's reality is far more... modern. If someone had told me thousands of years ago that I would one day be in an ordinary apartment with a cup of coffee in hand, surrounded by the blue-white glow of monitors, I would have laughed. But now? Now this is my life.

Morning, as it is: a debrief with coffee Oh, that sweet awakening. The alarm clock rings. My eternal wrath could destroy it, but why? It's all part of the modern routine. I, Sauron, the great lord of evil, now wake up not to an army but to the sound of a smartphone alarm, so I can sit at the kitchen table and pour myself a coffee—strong, black, like my view of the world.

Ah, coffee. Perhaps in the modern era, it's the bitterness that I find appealing. Every morning, it's a ritual: I sit in front of the computer, scrolling through social media and the news. The design here is actually quite inspiring: black screens, white letters. It all feels so office-cold that I involuntarily smile. "News from Mordor" could be a popular blog.

Remote work, same old job: Zoom meetings and evil schemes How times have changed, haven't they? In my past, I led armies in person, standing at the front lines. And now... now I spend most of my day in Zoom meetings. Yes, even the Dark Lord has to deal with modern bureaucracy. Orcs need management, tasks need assigning, KPIs are sacred. Technology has made my dark work more sustainable.

— "Urgash, what’s going on with the weapon shipment? Why don’t we have the third-quarter report on the allocation of eastern lands?" I ask with cold resolve, looking into the camera, only to hear confused muttering in response.

Orcs, of course, can’t handle Google Sheets. But what can you do? Routine.

Office equipment and old habits My workspace is a modern masterpiece. Cold-lit lamps, an ultramodern laptop with a keyboard glowing with a faint, almost infernal light. All this allows me to devise new plans to conquer Middle-earth with high efficiency. Software? Oh, trust me, even a palantír would envy the power of my server.

But some habits remain unchanged. A glance at a smoldering notepad reminds me of runes and ancient spells. I wonder if I could code the way I once cast curses—would I be able to create a virus to take over the entire internet? Then again... no, we’ve seen where that leads. And if the system crashes, I’m not ready to lose my bookmarks.

Lunch breaks: yes, even dark lords need to eat Ah, lunch breaks. They’ve become part of modern Sauron’s life. Don’t think I’ve lost my taste for brutal bloodshed. No, that’s in the past. Now my lunch consists of something more grounded. A cold salad, maybe a couple of sandwiches, and, of course, another cup of coffee. Only the grim taste of dark bread reminds me of the old days.

— “Delivery for Mr. Sauron?” — a knock at the door. Naturally, food delivery. Even cuisine today has become a sort of twisted pleasure. Strange. The once elegant culinary masterpiece—roasted flesh—is now replaced by avocado toast. Though, to be honest, they’re quite good.

Fitness by the call of darkness Of course, physical fitness is as important for a Dark Lord as for any modern mortal. A treadmill awaits me in the bathroom. No, I don’t go outside. Mordor is still a long way from glamorous park trails. Still, if I must exist in this new, modern world, I can at least maintain my strength. Cardio is power, they say. Power? Ha! Let them know power when I’m in full battle form.

After the run—a few minutes on the punching bag. No, I haven’t lost my skills! Even in a world where leaders rule through screens, old methods still work. Deep down, I’m still ready to crush anyone who dares stand in my way.

Evening leisure: shows and dark conspiracies What else to do in the evening, when the office lights dim? Of course, watch shows. Oh, how elegantly modern shows portray power dynamics. My streaming subscriptions are quite diverse: from Game of Thrones to dark detective stories. In these tales, I see myself—though in a much less epic form, it’s still satisfying to watch others make mistakes.

— "Seriously? Did you really think that conspiracy would work?" — I whisper as I watch yet another villain's plan fall apart. Perhaps, if they’d hired me as a consultant...

Reflections before sleep: what went wrong? When night falls and my monitors dim, I sit on the windowsill and look at the sky. No stars, of course—the city lights drown them out. Even in such a world, illusions of power and light don’t add true strength. I ponder how the world might have changed if my plans had worked out sooner. But then I realize that even in this new world, I can still become its lord.

Only now, my army will consist not of orcs but of fans, liking my posts and retweeting each of my new brilliant plans.

End of the day: Darkness will always find a way So, there you have it, a day in the life of Sauron in the modern world. Not so terrifying, you’d say? Oh, but what do you know? Even in this modern world, Darkness will always find its way. And while you think I’ve become but a shadow of the past, remember: I’m always watching you. Through your screens, through your reflection in darkened windows.

And who knows, maybe tomorrow, your alarm will ring just a bit too loudly...

#lord of the rings #the silmarillion #tolkien #fanfic #silm fic #silmarillion #lort of the rings #lort #sauron #the silmarilion #the silm fandom #style

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fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction · 8 months ago

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It Is A Mystery

Gregory and Cassie start looking into the events of 1987 to figure out the strange anomalies in the animatronic hard drives.

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Lunchtime at school meant Cassie could find Gregory sitting under a tree in the yard if he wasn’t at their usual table. Her Roxy lunchbox swung at her side as she jogged over to see him, sighing at the sight of him pressing his forehead to his knees. The headaches were definitely a serious thing for him but no amount of doctor visits or nurse checks could come up with a reason for why they kept happening. All anyone could do was keep a supply of medicine for him to take to make the pain dull.

Cassie had taken it upon herself to keep a bottle of headache pills and a few small water bottles stocked in her backpack and hip pouch. The number of times she had to dip into the supply for him always made her worried. How much longer could this go on before something more dire than just a headache happened? When would someone figure out what was wrong and help him?

“Did you manage to eat something?” she asked, sitting down by Gregory and swinging her bag around to get to the medicine bottle and water.

“Few bites,” the boy replied with a faint groan, his hands clutching at his head and rubbing at his scalp through his hair. “Hurts and itches at the same time. It sucks.”

“Maybe you’re getting memories back?” Cassie suggested, taking Gregory’s wrist to free one hand and press a couple capsules to his palm. He lifted his face from his legs to flash her a grateful smile before tossing the medicine into his mouth. She passed him a water bottle to wash them down. “Like in the movies, where people get flashbacks of their past and it looks like it hurts?”

“Not getting anything,” Gregory mumbled, sitting back with a thud of his back against the tree trunk, his eyes closed as he kept one hand pressed to his forehead. “Been thinking about that code and it hurts,” he sighed and Cassie settled down on the grass beside him, her shoulder pressed to his while she opened her lunchbox and took out her sandwich.

“I bet. Those two hard drives looked aaaancient,” she declared between bites. The original Freddy and Friends band had four animatronics, so Gregory had collected half of them already. Just two more to go and then... Then what? What did the security puppet expect Gregory to do with them? He was just a kid. “So what’s the code say?” she asked.

“There’s more than just the regular animatronic programming in there. That stuff was written by whoever built the Fazband,” Gregory began, cracking one eye open just enough to see what she was doing before closing it again, “On top of it is some security software that looks like a full override of the hardware that cuts off software control for a little while. The signature on it is from Mr. Fitzgerald’s dad.”

“The guy you did your school report on? Jonathan Fitzgerald?” Cassie asked in surprise, “I thought he was only doing the software for the Toy Animatronics. How’d his stuff get into the originals?”

“I bugged Alex for a crash course on invasive programming and it kinda looks like that,” Gregory explained, a small frown on his face as his brow furrowed, “It’s a security program but written like a virus, installing and burying itself and making it super hard for anyone who doesn’t know what they’re doing to pull it out. There must have been a shared network in Freddy’s for the Toy Animatronics and the software was stored on it, infecting the originals.”

“But why?” Cassie murmured, thinking over what such a program could be used for. Control the hardware without the software having input? Sounded like manual control. Why would anyone want to have a built-in software switch to have someone take manual control of the animatronics on demand? Wasn’t the regular performing software good enough to do its job? So many questions, no wonder Gregory was having more headaches lately.

“I think the reason is the other batch of coding in the drive,” Gregory replied, opening his eyes to stare at her in faint confusion and concern. “It’s a mess of structure that doesn’t make any sense to me but it looks a lot like what’s in Freddy’s code.” He tapped on his Glamrock Freddy lunchbox and Cassie squinted at it, thinking.

When did Gregory see Glamrock Freddy’s software?

“So if the same kind of weird coding is in both of them, maybe what it is..,” Gregory trailed off quietly, his gaze looking distant and thoughtful. He almost looked sad. Cassie watched him with a tilt of her head, waiting for him to continue his words and then giving a little huff when it seemed like he was lost in his head again.

That seemed to be happening a lot lately. Gregory would just zone out with that thoughtful look, like something was on his mind that he was trying to figure out and whatever it was, it was something sad. Sad memories coming back? He never said, and when he shook himself out of it he couldn’t explain what it was he was thinking about.

“What is it?” Cassie coaxed, hoping that maybe this time she’ll get an answer. Never did before but she was nothing if not persistent. Her dad was like that, kept his focus on whatever specific job he did for Freddy’s up until he just disappeared.

Gregory’s mouth thinned, like he was keeping his words in, and he looked at her with an odd expression. She’d seen it before on the adults in her life, that look of them wondering how much she should be allowed to know about something serious. She hated it when she understood what that meant and she hated it now on her friend’s face. Cassie scowled back at him.

“I don’t know stuff, but I’m not stupid,” she told him, taking his favorite phrase and throwing it back, “What is it and why does it make you sad and how does it involve Glamrock Freddy and how do you even know what’s in his code?!”

“Man, you sure don’t need air when you get all huffy like that, huh?” Gregory remarked with a nervous grin, wincing as though caught in a lie. “I, uh, forgot you don’t know about..." He opened his lunchbox and grabbed his half-eaten meal, a small container with a couple slices of homemade pizza, a pack of cookies and a juice box. He hurriedly ate a few more bites, likely stalling, while Cassie just narrowed her eyes.

She’d glare him into submission one of these days. Grandma said she had her mom’s look for getting her dad to ‘fess up to whatever silly thing he was hiding. If it worked for her mom on her dad, then it’d work for her on Gregory. He seemed the kind to fold pretty easy anyway to her. She’d die of embarrassment first before admitting that it kinda felt nice to know Gregory would rail against everyone else but her.

“Okay, but you gotta promise not to tell just about anyone else,” Gregory finally began with a heavy sigh, “Cuz this sounds crazy but trust me, it’s not.” Cassie nodded, giving her most serious expression to show she could be trusted while holding in a squeal of relief that he was finally sharing more of what was going on. “Huh, how to explain this,” he muttered, “Memories, the soul, emotions, they’re all connected.”

“Sounds spiritual,” Cassie agreed with a slow nod.

“But it can be transformed into physical and digital,” Gregory pointed out, frowning at his pizza slice, “All of it or some of it, it can get put into objects and those objects become ‘haunted’. And the stuff those memories and souls and emotions become when it starts moving around like that is called Remnant.”

Cassie frowned as she turned that over in her head. The spiritual being put into physical and digital forms. So a soul could be made physical? Or put into something that wasn’t a human body? Memories could be made digital? Like files in a computer? Or... She blinked as the thought suddenly clicked into place. “Animatronic programming,” she whispered and looked at Gregory in disbelief, “You think this Remnant stuff, people’s memories and souls, got turned into animatronic programming?!”

He nodded and he didn’t look like he was joking or trying to pull a prank for once. He looked like he really believed a soul got put into each of the original Fazband members and got translated into some bizarre code. Cassie remembered how her grandma liked to say things made with love helped spread that love because people could feel that love in those objects. That haunted sites were places where the ghosts and spirits were bound because of how they died or something about the place called them there. Was there actually something to that?

“Wh-how did people’s souls and memories end up in the animatronics?” she asked in alarm. Gregory held up his fingers in a ‘V’ shape.

“There’s two variations of that Remnant programming,” he told her, “One set looks like it was self-writing, like the Remnant came from the animatronic itself. Like maybe it was already alive in its own way?”

“It was sentient?” Cassie caught on and blinked, “Oh! Like the story of the Velveteen Rabbit! A toy that was loved so much that it became ‘real’ and ‘alive’; people really loved Freddy and Friends back then, so did all that love poured into them make them alive?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think. Love from kids and parents, love from the person who built them, it became Remnant and made them aware enough that they started writing their own code, making their own memories and identities,” Gregory agreed and lowered one finger. “But then there’s traces of another set of Remnant programming, and it looked broken, like whatever put it there was suddenly added and then very suddenly taken away some time later. And when that Remnant left, it tore out the code that it had translated into.”

“And what did that Remnant do?” Cassie asked, “Make different memories?” That didn’t seem right. If the animatronic was already ‘alive’ with its own Remnant, then having outside Remnant suddenly get put into it almost felt like... “It got possessed?” she realized in horror, “But how?!”

“Bingo. Those traces were just enough to tell me that the other Remnant hooked into hardware control,” Gregory told her around his last mouthful of pizza, “The possessing stuff could take control of the animatronic and move them around, and I think Jonathan’s software was created to cut off that control and give it back to the security guard just long enough to get them put somewhere safe.” He tossed the crust back into his lunchbox, hurriedly wiping his hands off on the grass before digging out his phone. “I need to ask Mr. Fitzgerald to give me access to the Afton Files again but I could at least look up what happened to the old Freddy’s Pizza,” he said in a rush, “He mentioned it when he said he had beef with them over his dad being accused of something he didn’t do, something called the Missing Children Incident. The guy who looks after the place also mentioned it to me; families don’t come back to a place where kids vanish.” Cassie pulled out her own phone, tapping away on the screen to open her browser and do the same search.

Her phone was soon covered in headlines and articles from the past, a scandal in the late 1980’s, children going missing, declared deceased based on the M.O. of the suspect that was arrested and convicted, and the pizzeria’s business declining over time until it closed and reopened with the original Fazband. It still didn’t do well, as the animatronics smelled and looked terrible, as though they weren’t kept well and something was rotten around them. Cassie covered her mouth in horror, her stomach wanting to rebel against her recently eaten lunch.

Did this mean that the outside Remnant were the souls of those missing kids? Where did they go then? Gregory said they were attached suddenly and then some time later they were torn out.

“The Five Missing Children,” Gregory murmured, looking over her shoulder at her phone, and her face warmed at the closeness. He pointed down at her screen. “Look. It happened on the same day as the Bite of ‘87.”

“The what of what?” she asked flatly. What kind of dumb phrase was that? How was it connected to the Missing Children Incident besides the shared day?

Gregory showed his phone beside hers, a grainy photo of a kid dressed like a pirate grinning in a scanned newspaper article. “Here. ‘Bite of ‘87 Victim makes miraculous recovery’,” he said with a grim tone, “And look at the victim’s name. Michael Elizabeth Schmidt.”

“Mike Schmidt, the guard who potentially had something Fazbear Entertainment wants,” Cassie connected with wide eyes, “He got hurt the same day the Missing Children Incident happened?”

“Yeah, from the articles it seemed like the damage from the bite was supposed to have killed him. But it didn’t,” Gregory muttered, “I think the killer who got the other kids was also trying to kill him but he managed to pull through. And the kids who did die ended up as Remnant attached to the Fazband and generated that extra programming that let them take control of the animatronics.”

“Five missing kids,” Cassie repeated, reading the article again and frowning. Wait. “Five kids died, so that’s five souls or Remnant or whatever. But there’s only four animatronics in the original group. If all of them got one kid’s soul each, where did the fifth one go?”

Gregory froze beside her and she looked up to see his face pale suddenly. He moved away from her in a rush, hunching over in the grass as he stared blankly at the ground. The movement was so sudden, it nearly toppled Cassie over but she was just as quick in scrambling to her knees and crouching by him, her hands hovering around him. What happened?!

He was shaking, hands clutching his head as he breathed hard, like he’d been running for his life. “I know this, I should know this,” he whispered in panicked confusion, “I know this. The fifth one.. Fifth.. she...” He stopped abruptly, sitting up like he’d been jolted. “The old lady,” Gregory breathed and turned wide eyes to Cassie, “I met her.”

“Gregory, slow down, you’re not making any sense!” Cassie told him in frustration. He still looked so pale, so gray in his face. She reached up to put her hands to his cheeks and forehead. Clammy and cold, like he was getting sick. “You don't look or feel good at all. We should get you to the nurse,” she told him firmly. “No more looking into this stuff today.”

“But the code..,” Gregory whined softly, his shoulders slumping as he fell forward just enough to drop his forehead against her shoulder. She patted him on the back comfortingly. “It’s all connected, and it’s in the code.. but why is it connecting to me? I don’t know any of these people,” he mumbled tiredly, “And it’s not cuz my last name’s Afton. I’m not a real Afton. Stupid rabbit bitch stole my name and gave me hers cuz she wanted her actual family back.”

Cassie blinked a few times as she let that process, her mind turning over those words a few times. “What?!” she exclaimed incredulously, “What the heck do you mean, a lady stole your name and made you an Afton?!”

Gregory pulled back from her, still looking sickly, and threw himself back against the tree in a tired slouch. “I told you, didn’t I? That the puppet better not be giving me stuff just cuz I’m an Afton, cuz I’m not really one,” he replied mulishly. “Memories make up Remnant, and strong memories and emotions get encoded to the soul. Like pagefile and hard drive space.” He pointed at his own head. “There was a rabbit lady in the Pizzaplex who is an Afton and she wanted her dead family brought back to life. She had like records or something of their Remnant, their memories, but she needed bodies to put them in. So she tried to erase my memories to make space to transfer one set of them into me.”

“Like uninstalling an operating system off a hard drive to make room to install a different one,” Cassie murmured and felt her stomach do a queasy flip again. “That’s why your therapy isn’t really helping to bring memories back?” She couldn’t imagine how that must feel. To have your whole life just stripped away and nothing worked to bring it all back. There was so much just gone forever. Her eyes went to their phones left on the grass next to them. Just like those kids had vanished and died, turned to Remnant that disappeared. “So if you’re not really an Afton, who were you?” she asked carefully, “Or was that a memory that vanished too?”

“Nah, that was erased for sure. Dunno what my name might have been, and all my other records got destroyed and replaced with ‘Gregory Afton’,” he told her with a little shrug, “I saw the name with my picture on a computer screen, so I at least got that much to use when talking to people in the Pizzaplex.”

Cassie scooped up the phones and carefully eased herself back beside him against the tree, pressed close to his side as she looked down at both screens full of articles of tragedy. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, “that you lost so much of yourself.” Her own dad missing because of emergency Fazbear technician work, Gregory’s whole life stolen and replaced, probably the same with his mom, and these kids who all died and became connected to Freddy and Friends.. how many more lives were ruined because of Fazbear Entertainment and Afton Robotics?

Was there anything anyone could do to stop them?

#fanfiction #bits and pieces #fnaf gregory #fnaf cassie #parlourverse au #fnaf au

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psiroller · 10 months ago

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youre like the pam to my jim (preview)

im on my office romcom au bullshit folks. itll be a oneshot and basically pwp but here's the lead in to wet ur whistle.

dunmeshi/chilaios/dom!laios/eventual bdsm club shenanigans/2.2K

cw: blue collar blues, language, not so unresolved sexual tension, questionable workplace romance between a superior (chilchuck) and his subordinate (laios). this is not used for leverage (laios is actually the dom in this scenario, inverting the power imbalance) but i thought id mention it. they keep it professional on the clock (USUALLY)

Though he’d rocked up to the office less than an hour ago, Chilchuck’s workday had already run long. All the printers had gone offline, and he had to spend a few hours troubleshooting with Kuro how to get them operational; there had been a software update, apparently, that rendered the very outdated inter-office network unusable. Of course, this meant an hour on the phone with the district manager trying to get their network updated to the company-wide standard, something that had been blown off for a year and a half; the way she reacted to his request, Chil might as well have asked her for her firstborn. All he could get for his trouble was a tepid “I’ll look into it”. This meant running around handing out USB sticks like holiday cards so his employees could get something done, and lots of lines at the printers into the foreseeable future, and naturally their budget for office supplies had been cut, so it all came out of his pocket.

The whole department was behind on their calls, but Chilchuck fought back the urge to go around crabbing at people to catch up. It served him well, as Marcille approached him in the afternoon and informed him that the phone lines were down, and the voice mailbox wasn’t functioning, and there were angry customers on the line. Another call to Kuro, who was really stretching the limits of his contract, and it turns out that the phones had also been pushed a software update that made them incompatible with the inter-office network, and they would have to take every call in two rings or they would be automatically parked on a line that no longer existed and be summarily hung up on.

Mr. Tims announced he would be taking a lunch. He blasted a cigarette in the parking lot and returned to his desk to sulk, face in hands, dreaming of days when their lines were all directly connected and they didn’t have to go through the song and dance of software updates, firmware updates, network security updates, OS updates, wireless headsets, broken wireless headsets, lost wireless headsets and keycards and lost keycards and broken keycards and daily performance numbers and corrective action reports and work smartphones with keylogging software in them and mouse movement monitoring and—

Chilchuck went back to work. He used his personal cell to call up the DM and informed her of the raging clusterfuck that had become his department—and probably the whole branch—now that the office network was effectively obsolete. She sounded on the verge of tears—apparently her other branches had also fallen victim to the endless onward march of the digital millennium, and she was at her wit’s end trying to fix them all at once. Every stress-deadened neuron in his withering brain proclaimed: serves you right. If you had fixed this when I first asked, we’d all be stressed out at the usual operating baseline. He wished her the best and hung up. He stared blankly at his desktop calendar, seeing that the next district meeting was in three days. His vision briefly fuzzed over and he fantasized about leaping onto the table and screaming, just screaming until his throat was raw and his face was purple and they had to have the orc from the main branch’s operational compliance department drag him out.

Chilchuck went for coffee. He was risking time theft, but his DM had bigger problems, and there wasn’t much he could do. The frantic calling died down, Marcille having performed some kind of forbidden ritual to pacify their frothing customer base. During his walkaround he saw most of the floor taking calls, even folks who normally ducked phone duty, so she must have gone around recruiting people to her cause. Chilchuck made a note of that; he’d have to compensate her somehow for taking on what should have been his job.

Laios, however, was nowhere to be seen. This rankled Chilchuck; Laios rarely missed a day except for the handful of times Chilchuck had to send him home for being deathly ill, so of course the day he had to miss, there was catastrophe. His cubicle was empty, he wasn’t in the break room, he wasn’t in the parking lot putting out an engine fire on his piece of shit motorcycle, not at the watercooler. Nothing. He checked with Marcille if he’d called out, and she quirked an eyebrow up at him.

“No? He’s in the server room, with Kuro.”

“Kuro?”

“Yeah, he said he went to help.”

Mr. Tims ground his teeth. “That’s not his—I’ll go talk to him.”

Marcille smirked. “Sure you will.”

Chilchuck glowered at her, but Marcille faced his evil eye with insufferable smugness. He remembered all too soon that she saved his ass this morning, and he had to close his open mouth and walk away.

“We’re even now,” he growled.

“Nope! Still getting that Starbucks gift card!”

She was right, but he wouldn’t be admitting it. Chilchuck stormed out of his department and down the hall, sliding smoothly into a closing elevator with a few other disgruntled employees, taking a frankly infuriating number of stops at basically every floor until he could ride it all the way down into the basement. When the doors parted, hot, stuffy air flooded in. Chilchuck winced and loosened his tie and waistcoat as he stalked the rows of servers, the heat only getting worse the longer he lingered, until he found Kuro kneeling with his arms in the guts of the worst cable management imaginable, Laios helping him separate out the lines to keep track of each spaghettified clump of wires.

“Chil!” Laios said, getting a growl from Kuro that probably meant be quiet in Western Kobold. “Oh, uh, sorry. Mr. Tims! How is it up there?”

“Bad,” Chilchuck ground out. “Of course. We could really use a hand with the calls up there, you know.”

“Oh, are the lines working again?”

“Enough to receive them, but not enough to park them, so it’s a disaster for customer satisfaction,” Chilchuck said, trying to manage his volume. “So what are you doing down here? I don’t recall you being in IT.”

Laios slopped some sweat off the back of his neck with the palm of his equally sweaty hand. His dragon-patterned tie had been loosened enough to nearly slip off his neck, just enough to stay in code, and he’d tucked the end of it into his pocket to keep it out of the way, having forgotten his clip again. The heat in their dilapidated, poorly ventilated server room made his business casual button-up cling nicely to the curves of his chest and solid core, the one bright point in Chilchuck’s day so far.

“Oh, well, I wasn’t getting anywhere with my work… I mostly had a bunch of bills to print and mail out today, so naturally that was going nowhere. I had my personal USB on me, so I tried to get it done manually, but Namari was hogging it for her shipment printouts because apparently their system is kaput in the warehouse… and when I checked again everyone was using it. Some of the newer printer models don’t come with USB ports, so some of the more up-to-date departments were mooching off ours.”

“I thought the lines seemed a little excessive,” Chilchuck grumped. “I don’t think I’ve seen those things used more rigorously than they have been today.”

“Yup, that’s why. So I caught Kuro running between the floors trying to troubleshoot his latest Band-Aid fix, so I’ve been doing all the stuff that doesn’t require a tech degree, heh.”

“Laios okay with software,” Kuro chimed in. “Break hardware.”

“Yeah,” Laios said with a frown. “But the part was replaceable!” He beamed, cutting off a lecture. “Good thing Kuro hangs onto spare parts.”

Chilchuck’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to the real IT technician of the pair. “Is he actually helping, Kuro? Or are you humoring him?”

“Nice to have extra hands.” His tail wagged loosely, bushing the cuffs of his slacks. “He runs up to other floors. Checks employee access and network strength in offices. Saves time.”

“Alright then. Keep up the good work.” Chilchuck met Laios’ eye. Laios winked at him. Chilchuck blushed and ignored him, heels clacking on the cheap linoleum as he walked away.

Chilchuck hopped on call duty, having found everyone in their place and doing what all could be done. His customer service voice got a workout that left him feeling tense and jittery, every call opening with a frustrated sigh or straight up yelling. After a few quick resolutions and a handful of longer, 20–30-minute stretches of troubleshooting and over-the-phone customer cocksucking, the landline made a happy little beep, the flashing lights next to every line dying out one by one as they were parked. A dialogue box popped up on his PC: Connected to HP-5669964.

“Hey, Chil!”

Laios strode into Chilchuck’s office, startling his boss for a second as he rounded the desk in a few long strides. A big hand clapped down on Chil’s shoulder, jostling his arm and spilling coffee on the crisp collar of his shirt. Chilchuck grimaced.

“What.”

“We fixed it!”

Chilchuck eyed Laios suspiciously and set his mug down.

“How the hell did you…?”

“Don’t get too excited, it’s a temporary fix,” Laios chuckled. “But we narrowed down the problem to some kinda software incompatibility. Shuro rolled back the servers to an earlier restore point, so it’s like the update never happened! Of course, the update’s going to get forced on us again once the clock rolls over, but we can just do that tomorrow, too. If you want, I can come in early to-“

Mr. Tims raised a finger. “No. We’ll take care of it tomorrow when we usually punch in. Not everyone’s a morning person like you, Laios. It’s going to be 10 AM before anyone’s awake enough to do any work, so that’ll cover the time it takes for the servers to spin up.”

Laios leaned forward on the desk, hanging over Chilchuck’s high-backed ergonomic chair, one he had to shill out for himself. “What?” Chilchuck hissed, glowering up at him.

“I’m not hearing a ‘thank you’.”

Chilchuck scoffed. “For doing your job? You’re not doing this just for me. You’re being paid.”

Laios’s cupped Chilchuck’s cheek, hand engulfing half his face, which flushed and burned in Laios’ palm.

“Watch it, Touden,” he growled, arms crossed. Laios’ thumb stroked his cheekbone; Chilchuck didn’t swat him away. “We’re both on the clock.”

“Chil,” Laios said, in that honey-sweet tone that meant Chilchuck was about to be nagged. “You’re burnt out.”

Chilchuck blinked up at him, dark eyes shadowed by dark rings that Laios traced, up to his subtle, deepening crow’s feet. “Huh? No I’m not. This has just been a frustrating—” Laios’ fingers pushed into Chilchuck’s hair, shaking it out, raking blunt nails against his scalp. “—day. I’m not… you don’t have to…” He slumped into Laios’ big, warm palm, calloused but gentle in handling him. “… what was the question again?”

Laios chuckled. “Nothing. I got it handled.”

Chilchuck snapped back into reality and bit into the meat of Laios’ thumb to try to get him to unhandle it. Laios took it like a champ, pulling his hand out of Chilchuck’s mouth and cradling the whole of Chilchuck’s head in his palm, raking it back and forth, mussing up his hair, which Chilchuck reached up to fight off; his arms disobeyed him, flopping around like limp noodles until he gave up and relaxed into it.

“I can see you through your office windows, y’know. You looked like you weren’t having a great time. So I figured I’d help take care of it, ease your mind a little.” Laios’ smile had a sad quirk to it. “You look a little pale. You didn’t have cigarettes for lunch again, did you?”

Chilchuck grimaced. “None of your business.”

Laios sighed. “That’s a yes.”

“It’s just a rough week, Laios,” Chilchuck said. “I’ll be alright.”

Laios’ hand trailed down, framing Chilchuck’s chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” Laios said, meeting Chilchuck’s eyes with that relentless force, gold boring into him. Sometimes Chilchuck wondered if Laios’ eyes ever got dry; he hardly ever blinked. “We’re getting food into you, and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, we’re going to the club to work some of that tension out of you. Understood?”

Chilchuck’s pupils blew wide. His thick eyebrows pinched and he grimaced, unable to look away. Laios’ body curled over him, blocking out the office, the noise, the chaos. Chilchuck sighed, dropped his arms into his lap, and let Laios carry the weight of his skull.

“Oh, right,” Chilchuck realized, his eyes bright. “It’s Friday.”

Laios grinned and patted Chil’s cheek. “See? The fact that you forgot means you’re burned out. See you at six.”

Chilchuck threw paperclips at Laios until he left his office. At 6 PM, they met up on top of the hood of Chilchuck’s old Mustang; his tongue tasted like black coffee. Laios smiled, making it hard to kiss him deeply; Chilchuck got impatient and started biting. Marcille speedwalked past the car and neither of them noticed or cared.

#dungeon meshi #chilaios #laichil #office au #fic preview #ficroller

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whentherewerebicycles · 18 days ago

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"That’s when it hit me: A.I. is just as much a challenge to numeracy — our knowledge and ability to use mathematics and reason quantitatively — as it is to literacy.

In February, the A.I. engineer Andrej Karpathy reported on X that he was engaged in a new form of software development he called “vibecoding.” Using nothing more than a series of spoken prompts to a chatbot, he was conducting ad hoc experiments on data and said he would “barely even touch the keyboard.” He said this allowed him to “forget that the code even exists,” leaving the grunt work to the A.I. and simply directing from above. Mr. Karpathy’s post went viral, and many others acknowledged they were doing the same.

By some accounts, though, vibecoding isn’t going well. The code that Mr. Karpathy’s prompts create has been reported to be inefficient and riddled with irreversible errors. Worse, programmers using the method say they’ve found themselves not merely forgetting that code exists but forgetting how to code. As is the case with reading and writing a language, code is one of those things where if you don’t use it, you lose it. Early studies indicate that humans who use A.I. could become less creative over time."

#AI tag #i was just having a conversation with M about something semi-related to this the other day #i was like if they use AI to eliminate entry-level jobs #then how will they train a new generation of people to advance to non-entry-level jobs?#you can't skip the basics!#if you can't code because you never learned and/or never had ample opportunities to practice in a low-stakes role #how will you become an expert who can evaluate the code and fix mistakes

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saneforce2002 · 4 months ago

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Revolutionizing Pharmaceutical Sales with SANeForce weblink: https://www.saneforce.com/

Founded about 21 years ago, We started our journey as a small team with a big vision - to transform the pharma industry with our innovative sales and marketing solutions. Today, we're proud to be recognized as one of the top pharma CRM solution providers in India, with a global footprint and a reputation for excellence. We have around more than 1000 clients and 100 thousand users globally.

SANeForce is a leading provider of comprehensive CRM and MR reporting software tailored for the pharmaceutical industry. Our innovative solutions streamline sales operations, enhance field force productivity, and empower businesses with data-driven insights. With a commitment to excellence, SANeForce is your trusted partner in achieving unparalleled growth and efficiency.

#mr reporting software #san pharma #pharma crm #san clm #san sfa #san sfe #saneforce

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senjutsunade · 1 year ago

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#Blind Incandescence - Detective AU

Note: I randomly came across this - 'T was hilarious. We must continue. Putting it here for easier access.

Thread Title: Data, Drama and Coffee Karma

@uchihaa-itachi:

“For the record, both of you owe me coffee.” Came the monotonous voice from behind a flickering computer screen, “Also, mind telling me who gave Naruto access to the case files?”

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@senjutsunade:

She’s exhausted.

Her head hurts.

They have been trying to fix Naruto’s mess for the last few hours. And how her eyes are ready to bleed out of their sockets.

What was it with Uzumaki fingers and destruction?

Deadpanning, her only response isto throw a pink highlighter at the Uchiha.

“Blame Kakashi!”

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@konohagakurekakashi:

A non-committal humm was his only response as he shifted within his seat, back and shoulders popping in protest. He vaguely wondered how he contributed to the curse that was solely attached to the Uzumaki name (and fingerpads) before his stare settled on the empty belly of his pug mug. Itachi-chan was right about one thing though, they could all do with another refill.

He would have to get to that, seeing as the Uchiha was still trapped in the all-encompassing void of data-input, the light of his screen casting ghostly shadows underneath his lids. Their honored employer was engaged in a battle with a pad of sticky-notes; each treacherous slip, tearing and crumpling before she can stick her reprimands and scribbles to the Intern's chair/table/Ramen calandar (there was also the datum that Tsunade-sama's coffee usually came with an added kick, punch and bodyslam--each sip doing it's bit to disintegrate the esophagus). Kakashi sweatdropped at the thought. Iie he would definitely have to be the propitiatory lamb here. Absently clearing his throat Kakashi's pencil rose from his half-done crossword to flick twice at the switch of their trusted coworker (Mr coffee maker).

"Sou des ne... I need an 8 letter word for difficult... Starting with a T..."

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@uchihaa-itachi:

Cue a noncommittal hum as pale digits caught the offensively colored highlighter, dark orbs pausing to shoot the blond a look that would be more or less ignored. This was routine, after all, though he supposed he ought to consider him lucky it was stationary this time. They were already up to their eyebrows in paperwork and certainly didn’t need an addition in the form of carpenter bills.

Yare ne...Eyes flickered back to the computer screen, gaze zeroing in on an obnoxious line of code that had no business in a computer software that could barely process binary to begin with. Thus was the power of funding and accident prone little kouhai fingers that could do more damage than they were probably worth.

“Try toilsome.” Like our collective existence.

The sound of bubbling liquid was quite welcome in their dingy little void.

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@senjutsunade:

Late hours were become far too common, recently. Cases were coming their way far too frequently. Becoming increasingly absurd. Inhumane. And so, despite the apparent annoyance, these moments were somewhat relaxing.

Or they would have been, if she weren’t being consumed by an endless amount of paperwork. Hadn’t she done all this not even 4 days ago?

Letting out a barely audible sigh, she tried once again to read the scrawl that was supposed to be...a receipt? A report? A grocery list? Eye twitching in annoyance, she scribbled furiously on a sticky note, and sapped it into the offensive paper, as if force was required to make it stick.

Growling, a glare was directed at Kakashi. “Or Tortuous”. Maybe she should try sticking a few to some of the interns foreheads? “Troublesome!” With a stapler to make them really stick? “Taxing!” the eight letter requirement completely forgotten.

“Irksome!”And so went the ‘starting with T’ requirement out of the window. The annoying paper was shoved away, as another one, with STAINS of some sort on it, was revealed. “Inconvenient!”

Why were these intern creatures becoming more useless each year? “Problematic!!!” As she started scribbling another note, furiously, her pen decided to run out of ink that very moment and thus the useless stationary was hurled at the silver haired idiot, this time.

“Infuriating!”

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@konohagakurekakashi:

His superior’s initial huffs and glowers soared over his head like a paper plane, the Hatake having built up a resistance against the special brand © she reserved just for him within the second year of his employment at Anbu--much like her endurance toward his time-keeping skills and very valid, very real excuses. When her ire started to ascent with each scrap and crinkle of paper however, Kakashi spared a prudent gaze in her direction, pencil long having scratched ‘toilsome’ into each awaiting, puzzle block. Yet, the only thing his concerned gaze got him was a pen to the chin, grey hues following the way the offending piece of stationary fell back onto his desk, before rolling onto the carpet and underneath the copying machine (never to be seen or heard of again) Fact. The underside of their copying Machine was a No-Man’s land. “Maa…Maa…I think you’re running on low blood sugar, Tsunade-sama, if your arms keep jerking like that, you’re ‘gonna get a paper-cut.” He slowly stood from his seat, wincing at the familiar ache that came with horrendous, desk posture—before closing the distance leading to Mr Coffee Maker. “I’d recommend the usual order from the usual place, demo, I think they closed down two weeks ago due to non-compliance with health regulations…” Cue a quirk of his brow in the Uchiha’s direction to confirm same, before he started his search for the Sugar container—the stupid crock never being in the same place at the same time (mutant ants—being the ongoing theory).

_________________________________________________________

@konohagakurekakashi & @uchihaa-itachi

#Detective AU #Kakashi #Tsunade #Itachi #Data Drama and Coffee Karma #Detective AU: Data Drama and Coffee Karma #KonohagakureKakashi #uchiha itachi #Blind Incandescence #Detective Verse #Narnian Inhabitants

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casmichalb · 2 months ago

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December - April CAS Project - CanSat

Our CAS project was a part of a larger project we are taking part in, the CanSat competition. The deadline for the CDR (Critical Design Review) report was in January so we started working on it in the middle of December. We started by carefully planning all the tests we have to complete. To be honest, we chose the tests to a large extent based on whether we will be able to get data that can be displayed visually to show our progress. And in the following weeks, we conducted the tests: we tested the parachute (once again, we do that quite a lot because all the prototypes have some flaws that we try to fix). We also did tests of the barometer’s ability to detect change of height over ground and the thermometer’s precision. We also worked on the radio, though we did not manage to get it to work before the CDR deadline and we did GPS tests. While the rest of the team was working on integrating the elements together, I did a lot of analysis of the data we achieved and made graphs, maps, and tables to display it. It would have been much harder if not for the fact that we learned those specific data analysis skills on the Physics class with mr Piotr Morawiecki so it went very well- it was pretty cool to actually use those skills in this context. And once we completed everything we planned before the deadline, we started working on the actual report itself. Since it’s a 30-page document, it took a lot of time and cost me a lot of stress about completing it in time. We worked on the report on a shared Word document which gets very laggy in such situations so it was also very annoying. Then came the formatting in Overleaf, another very annoying software. With Filip we spent like at least half of the weekend (at least 10-15h) correcting the text and formatting it, finishing the whole thing… 10 minutes before the deadline. It got super stressful at the end and because of way too little proof-reading time we actually accidentally missed the fact that we misspelled one of our team member’s name in the report (oops). But the feeling of relief after sending the report was the best. Initially we planned that the CAS project would end after the CDR, but we decided to extend it to the end of the competition to make it actually make more sense that way - it’s more „full” like that. We worked on stuff like the CanSat case, integrating all the components, and assembling the final version of the satellite. Due to lack of time we spent the entire four days before the final deadline working on the CanSat almost all the time. We did a lot of progress during those four days and managed to build the satellite fully but unfortunately did not have the time to properly test and document it. On the second of April we received the results and we unfortunately did not manage to be among the competition’s finalists, which were the best 6 teams in Poland. That was slightly disappointing but honestly we expected that to happen after sending in the Final Design Review report

Regardless of the „failure” to qualify to the finals, I’m proud of our group because we put in a lot of work and spent a lot of time on the project. We definitely learned a lot in the process, mainly the importance of proper time management. I personally had a lot of fun in the process, but the deadlines were very stressful, especially that we always had to do work last minute. This experience also helped me to develop some skills when it comes to teamwork and maybe even some leadership skills. I kind of wish we did the project last year when we had little to no school work, as that would allow us to focus much more on the competition and maybe allow us to get better results.

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xtruss · 4 months ago

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The People Carrying Out Musk's Plans at Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE)

— By The New York Times | March 4, 2025

The New York Times identified more than 50 people within the so-called Department of Government Efficiency, a group formed by Elon Musk that in a short few weeks has radically upended federal agencies. Few members have formal Washington experience. Many are software engineers. All seem to have a clear mandate: Shrink and disrupt the federal government.

The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) Leadership Includes A Longtime Musk Aide, A Health Care Entrepreneur, A Digital Services Employee From President Trump's First Term And Mr. Musk's Political Adviser.

M Ties To Musk Companies

The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) Staffers Have Backgrounds In Engineering, Law, Finance, Human Resources And Real Estate, And They Have Often Been Assigned To Specific Agencies.

The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) Allies Are Associates of Mr. Musk And Others Who Have Helped Carry Out The Team's Work.

Mr. Musk's team has taken aim at more than 20 agencies while gaining access to sensitive government data systems. But the full extent of its reach or ambitions is unclear.

Much of the team's operations are opaque, and most of its personnel have not been disclosed by the Trump administration, and it is unclear exactly how large the operation is. Through executive order, President Trump moved the team from the Office of Management and Budget, where it had been housed as the United States Digital Service since its founding, into the White House — a transition that effectively shielded its work from open records laws that could give the public insight into its operations.

The list below includes some of Mr. Musk's allies; engineers - many of whom are young men - with backgrounds in artificial intelligence; former employees; and others who have helped the operation. Several have recently deleted their social media accounts after their names appeared in news reports.

The Times attempted to contact each DOGE staffer on this list through a combination of verified email addresses and social media accounts. For those without known contact information, Times reporters tried to reach them by sending emails to a name and address pattern consistent with other known email addresses. No one returned the Times's requests for comment.

#The New York Times #Elon Musk #The Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE)#Musk's Plans

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alghulras · 4 months ago

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𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

NOTICE: This document is classified under Level Gamma Protocols and has been flagged for unauthorised access attempts. Multiple inconsistencies detected. Proceed with caution.

[ACCESSING FILE...]

[SECURITY CLEARANCE REQUIRED: LEVEL ███]

[AUTHORIZATION GRANTED]

–BEGIN DOSSIER–

SUBJECT: VERIFIED BUSINESS ENTITY

Legal Identity: Rahil Head

Aliases & Business Titles:

Rahil Head (Commonly Listed)

Mr Head (Informal Reference in Business Circles)

Nationality: Unconfirmed—Records Indicate Middle Eastern Heritage

Date of Birth: Unlisted—Estimated Between 1950-40 (Discrepancies in Documentation)

Place of Birth: Unknown—Conflicting Reports

Last Known Location: Believed to Operate in Private Estates Across the Middle East and Northern Africa

Status: ACTIVE—CIVILIAN BUSINESS ENTITY

Known Affiliations:

Founder of a Privately-Owned Conglomerate Specialising in Energy, Infrastructure, and High-End Real Estate Developments—Limited Public Record of Transactions

Significant, Though Indirect, Investments in European and Middle Eastern Technological Firms

Rumored to Have Private Ties to Historical Societies and Cultural Preservation Groups

Silent Partner in Multiple Gulf-Based Enterprises

No Known Criminal Affiliations

DESCRIPTION:

Height: Approx. 195 cm

Build: Lean, Well-Kept

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Hair Color: Black with Flecks of Gray—Varied Reports on Aging Process

BEHAVIORAL ASSESSMENT:

Maintains an Unremarkable Public Profile—Avoids Major Media Presence

Highly Reserved in Business Dealings—Prefers Private, Invitation-Only Negotiations

Has No Apparent Reliance on Digital Technology; Prefers Handwritten Correspondence and Direct Verbal Negotiations

No Public Record of Political Statements or Controversial Affiliations

RELEVANT INTEL

No official photographic records prior to 1995—older Images of ‘Rahil Head’’ do not seem to exist.

There is an absence of personal history—no medical records, no known educational background, and no confirmed lineage. Attempts to identify close relatives have resulted in inconclusive data, with one exception: a confirmed daughter, Talia Head, frequently seen alongside her father, and mother, Ruhayla Head, a renowned socialite and industrialist who serves as the public face of █████ █████.

Financial transactions indicate activity in multiple locations across the globe within impossibly short timeframes.

Facial recognition software has flagged similarities between Mr. Head and multiple historical figures in archived photographs dating back to the 19th century—though results remain inconclusive due to image degradation.

█████ █████ █████ operates a traditional corporate structure, including a board of directors and executive staff. However, all strategic decisions are deferred to Mr. Head himself, with no record of shareholder meetings or public disclosures.

The company has a history of acquiring failing businesses and revitalising them without clear external financing. Sources suggest private investors, but no names have been disclosed.

Despite operating within legal frameworks, █████ █████ █████ has repeatedly rerouted funds through offshore accounts with minimal transparency. Regulatory bodies have flagged these activities but have not pursued further investigation.

Personal financial records for Mr. Head are limited. No known assets are registered in his name, yet he maintains access to multiple high-value properties across the globe. Some of his offshore accounts tie back to defunct 19th-century banking institutions.

Maintains no official government position, but holds connections to politicians, monarchs, and military officials across the Middle East, Europe, Africa, and other parts of Asia.

Suspected of influencing regional conflicts by subtly shifting investments to favour or destabilise specific economic sectors.

Regularly attends closed-door economic forums and high-level diplomatic meetings under the pretence of trade discussions.

His company has facilitated infrastructure projects in several developing nations, indicating some level of control in national policies.

Multiple historical estates and excavation sites acquired by █████ █████ █████ correspond to locations with rumored ties to the League of Assassins.

A monastery in Tibet, recently purchased under a shell corporation, has been linked to ancient alchemical research. Records of its acquisition were mysteriously wiped from local government databases.

Personal security team composed of former special forces operatives, many of whom have no recorded military discharge papers.

Domestic staff at private residences reportedly rotate every six months, with each new team having no knowledge of their predecessors.

THREAT ASSESSMENT:

RISK CLASSIFICATION: NEGLIGIBLE—NO VERIFIED CRIMINAL OR PARAMILITARY TIES

SUBJECT DESIGNATED AS LOW PRIORITY MONITORING

[WARNING: FILE CROSS-REFERENCED WITH ARCHIVED CASE ██-█████—INCONSISTENCIES NOTED]

ADDITIONAL NOTES

[SECURITY RESTRICTIONS DETECTED]

One anonymous source claimed Mr. Head never seems to age, but this statement was retracted, and the individual declined further interviews.

Official documents confirm a "Rahil Head" attended an exclusive financial summit in Zurich in 1991. A separate report indicates the same name appearing on a guest list for a 1973 archaeological conference in Istanbul—no photographic evidence exists from either event.

Despite no formal ties to political entities, Mr. Head appears to have access to exclusive diplomatic channels. Private jets linked to his company have landed in highly restricted airspaces without official clearance, yet no record of violation exists.

A classified intelligence document from 1977 references an individual with a near-identical description to Head, listed as a “non-hostile asset with unknown longevity.” Document has since been removed from official archives.

A confidential source in Dubai stated that "Rahil Head" does not attend public events, yet holds significant influence in elite circles. Attempts to trace his business dealings often lead to dead ends.

A low-resolution image from 2004 depicts Mr. Head at a private gala in Morocco. Upon further analysis, facial structure appears nearly identical to an individual in a 1982 diplomatic event in Istanbul—discrepancies in aging patterns remain unexplained.

A handwritten letter dated 1899 was recovered from a private estate auction. The signature—nearly identical to that of Mr. Head—was dismissed as a coincidence, though forensic analysis remains inconclusive.

[...FURTHER RECORDS RESTRICTED…]

THREAT ASSESSMENT REVISION

CLASSIFICATION: LOW TO MODERATE RISK

NOTE: UNRESOLVED ANOMALIES FLAGGED FOR FUTURE REVIEW

[...DATA RETRIEVAL INTERFERENCE DETECTED…]

Recommendation: Maintain passive surveillance. Direct investigation not advised.

[...DATA FRAGMENT ENDS…]

[CONNECTION LOST—SECURITY LOCKOUT INITIATED]

[DATA ACCESS REVOKED—FURTHER ATTEMPTS FLAGGED FOR REVIEW]

[LOGGING OUT...]

[SESSION TERMINATED]

–END DOSSIER–

#the demon's head #the league's decree #ra's al ghul #ra's al ghul rp #dc rp blog #dc rp #dc universe #ooc: part two of three #he has a civilian identity now !!

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