#cloud DR solution

[vastedge330]

Choosing the right cloud disaster recovery solution requires careful consideration of factors like Recovery Point Objectives (RPO), Recovery Time Objectives (RTO), data security, scalability, cost, and vendor reliability. Implementing best practices can minimize downtime and data loss, ensuring that businesses remain resilient during disasters.

[pilog-group]

Data Management & Governance in Digital Transformation: Insights from Dr. Imad Syed Live Podcast | PiLog Group

In the thought-provoking live podcast, “Data Management & Governance in Digital Transformation | Dr. Imad Syed Live Podcast”, Dr. Imad Syed dives deep into the critical role of data governance in shaping business success and shares actionable strategies for organizations to effectively manage their data ecosystems.

Watch the Full Podcast Here:

Why Data Governance is Critical in Digital Transformation

Ensures Data Accuracy & Integrity: Reliable data is the foundation of informed decision-making.

Enhances Compliance: Meet regulatory standards and avoid costly fines with proper governance frameworks.

Strengthens Data Security: Prevent breaches and unauthorized access through robust governance strategies.

Improves Data Usability: Organized data ensures stakeholders can extract valuable insights effortlessly.

Supports Scalability: Well-structured data systems grow seamlessly with your business.

Key Highlights from the Podcast:

Understanding Data Governance Frameworks: Learn the essential components of effective governance models.

Overcoming Data Management Challenges: Address common obstacles like data silos, duplication, and inconsistency.

Best Practices for Digital Transformation: Discover proven strategies for integrating data management in digital initiatives.

Building a Data-Driven Culture: Foster a mindset where every team member values data accuracy and security.

Future Trends in Data Governance: Stay ahead with insights into emerging technologies and methodologies.

Gain Expert Insights Now: Watch the Podcast Here

Who Should Watch This Podcast?

C-Level Executives: Understand how strategic data management drives business success.

IT Professionals: Learn how to implement secure and efficient data governance frameworks.

Data Analysts: Extract meaningful insights from well-governed data structures.

Business Leaders: Align digital strategies with strong data governance policies.

Students & Educators: Gain valuable knowledge about real-world data governance applications.

Best Practices for Effective Data Governance in Digital Transformation

Establish Clear Governance Policies: Define data access, usage, and security protocols.

Invest in Advanced Tools: Leverage modern data governance platforms for efficiency.

Train Your Teams: Build awareness about data privacy and compliance across all departments.

Adopt Data-Driven Decision Making: Empower teams with reliable, real-time insights.

Measure & Refine: Regularly evaluate governance strategies and make necessary adjustments.

How Effective Data Management Powers Digital Transformation

Faster Innovation Cycles: Data-driven insights accelerate product development and deployment.

Stronger Customer Relationships: Personalized data-driven experiences improve customer satisfaction.

Operational Efficiency: Streamlined data processes reduce waste and optimize resources.

Enhanced Decision-Making: Reliable data fosters confident, informed decisions.

Scalable Business Growth: Strong governance supports sustainable expansion across industries.

Why You Should Watch This Podcast?

In this engaging live session, Dr. Imad Syed shares profound insights into how data governance and management are reshaping industries in the digital age. Whether you’re navigating digital transformation, enhancing your data systems, or setting up governance policies, this podcast offers actionable knowledge you can implement immediately.

Don’t Miss Out — Watch Now: Data Management & Governance in Digital Transformation | Dr. Imad Syed Live Podcast

Let us know your thoughts in the comments below. How is your organization leveraging data governance in its digital transformation journey?

[yandere-wishes]

｡ ₊°༺ Pink Pony Club ༻°₊ ｡

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Yandere! Dr Phosphorus x Reader ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

⋆.𝄞𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓟𝓸𝓷𝔂 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫 𝓑𝔂 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓸𝓪𝓷𝄞˚.⋆

✮★✮ Oh Mama, I'm just having fun, on the stage in my heels it's where I belong, down at the Pink Pony Club, I'm gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club. ✮★✮

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He lets the music roll over him, allowing the drums to melt over his flames and bleed into the marrow of his black bones. When you dance, you have to focus on the turn out of each step, on the wave of your arms, when to stiffen when to loosen. It makes it all so easy to forget the pain of being constantly on fire. To forget the melancholy that festers inside you. When the adrenaline is this high, you can only make out the strobing neon lights and the dazed amusement of the crowd.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ It's hard to hate the music and the lights, to shy away from a crowd so easily fascinated by the gleeful macabre. It's really the most sanity-inducing thing you can cling to when your body has turned into the thing you once loved. When you've become your research after watching your old self die in a furnace at the hands of those who once wielded all the power in the world. Funny how we make our own monsters, funny how the thing that kills us, is nothing more than the very man we once tried to kill, now engulfed by his own invention. Phosphorus spins, left leg, right leg, jump, and twirl.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The dancing, the music, the clapping, the lights, it's all so perfect for melting away the terrible things that slither inside him, to burn away all those good memories until the kill and the luxury are all the remains. It's getting just too easy to forget his son's face, to forget the smile his wife gave him on their wedding day.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's a moment between moments when the world seems to stop. It's only then that he notices you, or rather notices what you're wearing. It's the dress he thinks, pink like the mushroom clouds he'd once adored, like the sunset framing devastation. Or maybe it's the way you have your hair so cruelly tied. Tight circle above your head like an atom waiting to explode. In a flash it's over, someone is handing him a drink. Another sitting on his lap. And he's thrust harshly back into reality, back to a world of trying to forget.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus is and always will be a man of logic. A man of science. He lets his fingers glide over the stack of pristine hundred-dollar bills. To think he'd spent his whole life begging for a quarter of all of this. Begging for scraps of funding to save the lives of thousands. It had all been so important once. Still, he can't help but let his mind wonder, what could he build with all of this? What could he solve, discover, create? He tells his men to lock it up in the safe, he's not ready to go back to all of that just yet.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The next time Phosphorus sees you, he's half sunken into the plush couch of the VIP lounge. It's been a long day, a long tough day. Everything had gone wrong and all so right in the same breath. This time your dress is the shade of clouds marred by the blood of a dying sun. He should know this shade from the history books he'd used to read, the shade of skylines behind ancient temples. Back then he'd been trying to understand. Understand what he's not quite sure, he'd been so desperate to pry every little answer from the world. To chew their solutions, breaking them with his teeth and spitting out his own variation, his own thesis. He'd been so utterly convinced of his own intellect, convinced that reading Saadi at the same time as the latest research paper on Nuclear decay meant understanding the world.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He watched with staunch fascination as you tried to dance. Following your friend's steps, heels stepping awkwardly completely out of tune. You bend your knees, sinking to the floor. And Phosphorus can't think of any excuses for why his cheeks feel hotter than usual. Why his eyes are permanently affixed to the sway of your arms.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He thinks you look just like nuclear fission dancing in the limelight with your friends. Like you've split your own body to create them. Little atomic nucleus dancing under his microscope. You look perfect, your toned legs amplified by the radioactive pink of your heels. Long neck he'd love to kiss decorated with a thin string of gold. You don't look a thing like the other girls at the lounge, you look like an experiment beckoning him, seducing him into cutting you open, and observing how you explode.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's been following you keenly, trying to see what happens next. It's the fourth week in a row that he's forgotten about dancing for the crowd, about the girls who used to hang off his arms. He's too devoted to this experiment. "Nuclear scientist finds atomic bomb inside ancient temple from the bronze age". Phosphorus examines the sway of your hips, the bob of your head, and the crude kicks of your legs. There's something wrong with those heels, they're too thin, too high, inviting everyone to stare at you. But he's quick to shove them away, circling you from afar. He can't let anyone tamper with his experimentation. Certain matter performs differently when it knows it's being observed. So he allows the notion of invisibility, making you feel unobserved, safe in your own ignorance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He hasn't felt this alive in years. This ecstasy tastes utterly sweet, pure saccharine. It's the same thrill as watching your particles stabilize after days of trying to find the right frequency. Watching them organize into the right motion. And isn't that what you are? An ionized atom. After all, what is dancing if not ionization, if not trying to lose a part of yourself you can no longer bear?

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's late tonight, rivals had somehow bled in and were after the safe from Phosphorus' newest heist. He'd burned them to a crisp and danced on their ashes until they flew away. But that doesn't change the fact that he's late, too late in fact. When he rushes through the door, men nervously run behind him. His eyeless sockets fall upon an uttermost dreary sight...

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The problem with people is that they never truly appreciate beauty. They treat it as if it's something to conquer something to tame. They never bother to understand it, to study it from afar whispering prayers of gratitude for bearing witness to this new discipline. The man's body is too close to yours, head following your lips, as you awkwardly try to sidestep. The moment you try to flee he grabs your wrist. You scream, no one ever hears screaming through the bass and the rhythm.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's smoke in your eyes, sickly-sweet honey in the back of your throat. It's all too acrid but at least the hand assaulting your wrist subsides. The thing in front of you glows green, an acidic neon green that feels too familiar in shade. You watch as the skeleton seizes your shoulders, such a warm touch hearthlike in every way. He pulls you closer till all you can smell is null and all you can feel is smothering warmth.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never quite quiver under his touch, never fully shy away when he cups your jaw and tilts your head. It's like you want the radiation, want to feel his nuclear essence bleeding into you. Maybe then you'll be whole. Maybe then neither of you will need the music, and the lights, and the crowd to feel whole.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never belonged in the clubs, it was painfully obvious you could never mold to their dances, their music. Your heels never fit right. Phosphorous knows he's been trying to do the very same for all so long. Neither of you needed to kill off your electrons, to throw them away to ignorant nobodies who would sooner hurt you for their own voracious motivations. "Give me your electrons and I'll give you mine." Phosphorus tucks your head into the crux of his shoulder, "I'll fuse with you so you'll never need anyone else."

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus' hands mirror yours, swaying overhead before falling lower like the cascade of a wave. Side step, side step, stop, and bend. He thinks this is better than any club, any choreography he could do by himself. He feels so whole dancing only for your eyes. He feels so happy having you dance only for his eyes. Your palms touch as you circle slowly. Dancing like the airy rotation of electrons. There's no more dancing at the Pink Pony Club.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ What do you call a dance that feels like merging two atoms? What do you call it when your heart feels like the denotation of a bomb? He presses his lips to yours slowly, feeling the nuclei crash, a nuclear reaction, his tongue hum between your teeth endeavoring to melt away your fear. His fingers, dance across your hips heating up, leaving burning hearts and hand prints, claiming you as his, making you death just like him.

Lost the request for this but thank you so so much to the sender!! 💞💋💞💋

[thechy-fychannel]

I saw a few other blogs doing this so I thought I'd share my input on what I think would happen in the House MD universe in 2024:

the constant jokes abt house and wilson's relationship turns into the fellows jokingly writing fanfic abt their boss and his boy best friend. somewhere along the way they all get very serious abt the quality of it and it turns into a Whole Thing, a 150k+ novel that they vow to take to their graves.

house discovers the fic by accident and sends it to wilson. wilson discovers things abt himself and then he and house discover each other shortly thereafter.

house purposefully posts the fic online and credits the fellows by their entire full names so it embarrasses them more than house and wilson. It's never spoken abt again but it gets way more online attention than any of them expected.

wilson doesn't get how the Cloud works and accidentally uploads his and house's nudes to the google nest hub on his desk. He doesn't notice it until one of his sweet little old lady cancer patients points it out to him during their appointment. He throws the google nest hub into his trash can until he can figure out how to get the naked pictures off of it.

house has an alexa and abuses the hell out of it. sometimes ppl hear him screaming at someone in his office, only to walk in and find a robotic voice replying with "sorry, I didn't get that" and house throws it off the balcony.

wilson gets addicted to online shopping. house has to stage an intervention bc they do not have enough room in their closet for another pair of prada loafers and their kitchen is full of shitty gadgets that wilson bought off temu or something.

some right wing social media influencer comes in with a mysterious illness and ends up getting castrated as part of the solution. 13 personally does the procedure herself and house watches like a proud dad.

a patient reveals chase's grindr by shoving his phone at him and asking "is this you?" abt the headless profile with the ripped abs that says Dr. Feel Good, 0 feet away, in front of the rest of the team.

foreman finds the team doing tiktok dances bc house told them to learn it in order to understand their 15 yr old patient better.

chase medically murders mitch mcconnel and the entire hospital celebrates ding dong the witch is dead style.

there's a whole episode where house faces his transphobia bc of a trans patient that he connects with. the patient tells him to fuck off and go face his own problems instead of pretending to make it right by being nice to one trans person. And house does, even if he's not perfect, he really tries to do better.

13 gets her medical marijuana card and accidentally becomes the team's plug. her main customer is wilson who still supplies it to certain terminal patients. She hears "hey, can I hit your pen?" at least four times a day.

foreman buys a tesla and it blows up in the parking lot. they spend the entire episode trying to figure out who tried to kill foreman, but it turns out that teslas just do that sometimes.

there's an episode where house finds out that netflix is removing his favorite obscure tv show that ran for 2 seasons in 2002 and wilson recruits the team to hunt down a dvd copy of it without house finding out. they somehow manage to find one and spend a ridiculous amount of money on it, only to open the dvd case and find a copy of the porno wilson starred in that one time instead of the dvd of the show. park saves the day at the last minute by finding a copy of it in a box of dvds in her parents house.

[pineconepie]

Platonic yandere doctor? Like he’s had his little for a while but he’s just fed up with them trying to leave so he uses a more permanent solution to the problem of them trying to run away (take that as you will)

I hope this is good!! Its slightly different than what you asked, but if people want I cand make a part two of them trying to escape!

TW: Platonic/parental yandere, drugging, gaslighting, kidnapping, infantilization, slight ableism(?), psychiatric wards

...

You've been seeing Dr. Warren as your doctor for... wow, how long has it been? Several years now. He's always been a kind guy, and sometimes he'd break past that overly polite, professional demeanor and let his soft spot for you shine through.

You liked that about him.

Sometimes, when there wasn't anybody in the waiting room but you two, he would kneel down to give you a little toy while you waited, usually one of those plastic eggs filled with surprise toys or jingling keys or something like that.

You always thought it was a little strange how the doctor was giving you children's toys, but you tried not to overthink it.

There were some other weird things you tried to overlook, but recently it was getting harder to do so.

Warren would always prescribe you medications for all kinds of things, and every single one of them made your mind feel numb. Like static, almost.

Your appointments became very regular, as well. At least once a week, even if nothing felt wrong.

And he'd give you a little plastic medicine bottle filled with gummy vitamins every time you went in.

You started to notice how instead of actually checking your health, he'd cuddle by your side and just ask how your day went, almost acting more like an over-caring therapist... which, he did technically have his degree in both psychology and medicine, but still, the lack of any medical care was suspicious, especially coming from the usually very professional doctor.

"Um, Doctor Warren?" you nervously ask, fiddling with the toy he gave you today, a little green caterpillar with bright colors on its back.

"Hm? What is it?" he asks while marking a few things off on his clipboard.

"Well, uh..." you swallow down a lump in your throat as you work up the courage to ask this. "I've noticed that our sessions lately haven't been productive. And the medications you give me make me worse. I wasn't even having a lot of issues until I started taking them. It's like they just make my mind foggy... and I always feel so sleepy, and my coordination is off..."

"Those are just the side effects," he reassures. "That's why I wanted you to come see me regularly; to track any changes or side effects."

"But I don't think the side effects are worth it. And these constant check-ups are annoying, no offense," you mutter.

"None taken," he says calmly. "The check-ups are for your benefit."

"Yeah, but..." You rub the nape of your neck. "I think I want to see a different doctor... if that's okay."

Suddenly, the warm aura radiating from him grows cold as the man glares at you, dark eyes sending a chill down your spine.

"Do you trust other doctors more than me?" His voice comes out icy, stinging you like cold water.

Your heart pounds. You open your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted again.

"(Y/n). You're mentally and physically ill. Your judgement is too clouded by your conditions that you can't recognize proper care. I'm trying to help you get better. Can't you see that?" He runs a hand through his hair. "You need constant monitoring, love. I'd consider yourself lucky I haven't put you in inpatient care." His expression changes, like a light bulb goes off in his head. "Actually, would you prefer that?"

"No, of course not!" you cry out. "Please don't-"

"Why shouldn't I? It's for your own safety," he says matter-of-factly. "You can't even tell what's good or bad for you. Your condition is worsening."

"Because of the medication," you retort.

"That's just the side effects. I explained this already."

"Why would medicine that's supposed to cure me make me worse?!" you yell. Tears well up in your eyes. "Why won't you listen to me?!"

He looks like a parent dealing with their crying toddler; confused yet confident they'll get over it eventually. "Hmm... I think you need a nap."

"A nap? What, am I in timeout now?" You fold your arms across your chest like a pouting child, realizing a little too late how funny the doctor probably finds the gesture.

Warren gets out some medical supplies: a needle and a vial. Filling the syringe with a clear liquid from the small container, he turns towards you and grins menacingly. "This'll only take a moment..."

Before you can stand up and try to run away, he plunges the needle into your arm.

You cry out and flinch away, but not before all of the syringe's contents empty inside you. He holds you against him, shushing softly in your ear as you sob until suddenly your eyelids grow heavy.

He keeps you firmly tucked in his grip, and you find that you're unable to move, paralyzed by whatever substance he injected into you.

As soon as he sees you drifting off, he lies you on the bed and rushes out, yelling something that sounds too far away to hear.

...

When you wake up, you see white walls all around you. Blinking your eyes, you look down at your clothes to see an outfit totally different from what you had been wearing when you were in Warren's office. This looks more like hospital garb.

Speaking of which, where was Warren?

Turning your head weakly to the right, you notice you're attached to a heart monitor, the wires running to sensors on your chest and fingers.

You struggle to prop yourself up and sit properly on the bed.

Warren walks into the room. "Good morning! Or, should I say good afternoon?" he smiles teasingly, closing the door behind him. "How are we feeling?"

"I'm feeling like you drugged me! What am I doing here?!" Your throat feels like its on fire, but you continue trying to speak regardless. "Can't you talk to me without having me admitted to a hospital?! Oh god- please don't tell me I'm in the psychiatric ward..."

"You are in the psychiatric ward, yes," he confirms smoothly. "But don't worry. I pulled a few strings to make sure you got the best care." His voice dips into something softer, almost affectionate. "I even had them set up a private room for you. No noisy roommates, no prying eyes—just me, looking out for you."

A chill runs down your spine. This isn't normal. This is too far.

"For what? Telling you I wanted to see a different doctor? For wanting to get off my meds?!" You glare.

He doesn't seem too bothered, pulling out a clipboard. "Well, it says on your chart you attacked me with scissors during our last meeting when I wouldn't give you prescription opioids. That's pretty serious."

"WHAT?!" Your jaw drops. "You liar! That never happened!"

Warren feigns worry. "Oh, sweetheart..." He caresses the side of your face. "You poor thing. Those delusions have you again, huh?" He shakes his head. "I don't know how to tell you this... but you have a problem. A very, very severe one. Which is why you need constant surveillance from someone trained to handle people with your particular condition."

You blink away tears blurring your vision. "This is crazy. You can't do this to me."

"Baby, I'm not 'doing' anything. This was all in your best interests." Warren moves closer to you, rubbing circles into your skin. "You're sick, (Y/n). I've been your doctor for multiple years now. Why would I lie about this?"

You sob harder. You want to believe him so bad.

You trust him, and it's always been easier to follow along with his suggestions rather than try to fight or argue back, but...

"You like treating me as if I'm a baby. Does that have anything to do with this? Or why the medications you've given me make me feel like I'm regressing into a toddler every day?" you spit out bitterly.

He sighs. "That's because you have the obvious mentality of one. The regression isn't a result of the drugs, (Y/n). It's your disorder acting up." He pushes some strands of hair out of your face. "If it helps any, I like taking care of you. Really, I do. I've never considered myself a parental person until I met you. You need me, just as much as I need to be needed by someone else. Like you."

"I'll tell everyone you basically kidnapped me," you threaten. "They can look on the security cameras for proof I didn't do anything!"

He clicks his tongue, chuckling. "I might have accidentally deleted the security footage from the day. Oops," he adds innocently. He kisses your forehead. "Now, get some rest, kiddo. Papa will check on you in an hour. And please don't try anything bad while I'm gone; otherwise, we'd have to add assaulting an orderly or nurse onto your file... We really don't want that, do we?"

All you can do is stare dumbly up at him as the words sink in.

Yes, Warren could definitely get in trouble for this... but who's going to believe you when you've been labeled a danger to yourself and others with a laundry list of mental health disorders, prescribed enough pills to tranquilize an elephant daily?

No one.

He leaves with a final, "Be good," shutting the door with a soft thump, leaving you alone, staring after him long after he's gone.

[ms-demeanor]

Maybe I should wait for the PDF, but I’ve been thinking about password managers lately and might forget to check for that. My problem is that if there’s one thing I want to never ever put on the cloud to potentially get compromised, it’s my password information. But if there’s one thing I don’t want to lose access to, it’s also my password information. This seems to rule out both local options like KeePassXC and remote ones like Bitwarden.

I've started to become somewhat annoyed by the "there is no cloud, there is only someone else's computer" thing (this is a general thing, not specifically directed at you but you reminded me of it).

The risks of putting things on the cloud are that the internet or the provider will go down and you'll lose access to your data OR that the data will be compromised because the information is essentially public because it's on someone else's device.

Losing access because the provider crashes and burns or because there is a global internet outage is a distinct possibility, however with most password managers it is very very easy to download a copy of your data, which you can then store as an encrypted file on your desktop.

With companies like Bitwarden and Proton, which have open source encrypted cloud storage, your risk of compromise from being on someone else's computer is essentially zero. It IS important to make sure that you're finding a provider who is actually encrypting your shit and is not holding onto your password, which is why Bitwarden and Proton are the providers I keep recommending (privacyguides.org has recommendations here; bitwarden, protonpass, and keepassxc are all on the list, all of these are extremely safe options).

And that's where I have the problem with the "other people's computer" thing. I would have zero problems with storing a properly encrypted file in the comments of a facebook page. If a document had good encryption I would post it on livejournal and not worry about people getting into it. If you are working with good encryption, there is zero risk of compromise when keeping your shit on someone else's computer.

So I actually think the solution for either side of this conundrum is the same: If you're worried about losing access to your password manager because a service shuts down or the internet blows up, download a copy of your data to your desktop and store it in an encrypted folder on your computer. If you're worried about losing access to your password manager if your physical hardware is damaged in a disaster, export a copy of your data, save it as an encrypted file, and upload your encrypted file to gmail for all it matters - they will straight up not be able to get into it.

But that's also all kind of beside the point because a major feather in Bitwarden's cap is that you can self-host. It doesn't need to go on someone else's cloud, you can put it on your own server and never worry that someone else is going to tinker with your password manager.

Either way, you are sort of worrying beyond your means because if you're not using a password manager right now you are almost certainly at greater risk of credential stuffing attacks than anything else and need to put out that fire.

Anyway if you're at Harvey Mudd have you tried Dr. Grubbs across from where Rhino used to be? Everything on the menu is great but there is this jalapeño garlic sauce they've got to go with their mains that is so good that I want like two gallons of it.

[zazaiafe2]

How to really shift: a deep, gentle and complete approach based on data from people who shift on command.

Introduction: what the data says about people who shift on command ->

Most people who have managed to shift in a stable and repeatable way share the following:

– A deep sense of relaxation: mental, emotional, and physical

– A form of dissociation from personal identity or ego

– Mental states close to sleep (alpha or theta brainwaves)

– A strong connection with calm or neutral emotions (sadness, serenity, emptiness)

– Detachment from outcome and absence of hypervigilance

– Gentle, slow practices that are not overwhelming and adapted to their own rhythm

This post is a synthesis to help you recreate ideal conditions, without pressure, by maximizing your chances of shifting, whatever your cognitive or emotional profile may be.

1) Emotional state: it’s not “positive = good,” it’s “calm = receptive”

What the surveys show:

Intense emotions (anger, stress, euphoria, fear) reduce the chances of shifting, or at least don’t seem to help for most profiles.

Calmer emotions (sadness, melancholy, inner emptiness, serenity, gentle excitement) are more effective.

Emotional calm doesn’t have to be joyful or “positive.”

It’s an inner openness.

Why?

The brain can enter favorable brainwaves (alpha, then theta) when it no longer fights an emotion.

When we’re sad without resisting that sadness, or when we’re calm, we’re close to a hypnagogic trance state, a state that seems to allow shifting more easily.

The emotional states of people who shift on command before shifting

2) The ego: the critical self must dissolve

You may find it more difficult to shift if your brain is trying to understand, verify, or monitor.

Many think they must “let go”... then ask themselves if they did it right.

-> That’s the trap of the ego. It sneaks into the intention to let go.

What is observed in the testimonials:

People who shift on command often have a “floating” state of awareness, detached from analysis, even from personal identity.

They describe losing the sensation of their body, or no longer being “themselves.”

This is not dangerous dissociation, but a gentle dissolution of the self.

Tip:

-> Don’t try to let go. Try to forget you have to do anything.

Enter a state where you “watch yourself from afar,” or better, where you have nothing left to do.

-> A good mental image: you watch your thoughts pass by like clouds. Don’t chase them. Don’t identify with them.

The definition of ego

3) Physical and brain state: encourage entry into the alpha or theta state

Shifting seems to happen more naturally when the brain enters a pre-sleep state (alpha/theta waves). This is also what hypnotists and lucid dreamers seek.

How to encourage this?

- Get into a position where you could fall asleep, but don’t try to sleep

- Gentle, conscious breathing: inhale slowly, exhale even slower

- Let your body become heavy, soft, numb

- Try not to move even if you feel itchy (not mandatory)

Complementary techniques:

- Slow countdown (from 100 to 0, or even from 0 to 0)

- Slow mantras, whispered or gently thought

(“I let myself go,” “I have nothing left to do,”

“My body falls asleep, but my mind travels”)

- Listening to theta/alpha waves

- Gentle immersion in one sense

My favorite alpha/theta wave to listen

4) Calming hypervigilance: the overlooked key

This is probably the main cause of failure for those who "haven’t shifted in a long time".

Hypervigilance = brain constantly on alert:

- "Am I doing it right?"

- "What if I still can’t do it?"

- "I MUST succeed"

- "Is it normal to think like this?"

- "Am I in my DR or not?"

- "How will I know when I’ve arrived?"

Solution:

-> Reconnect with non-goal. Let go of the idea that you must succeed. Tell yourself:

“Tonight, I’m simply going to live the experience.

Even without results, it’s a victory.”

At the moment you shift, focus on internal sensations, breathing, or one of your senses in a soft way without forcing, for example touch or anything else.

Tip: Create a mini-ritual. A soft light, slow ASMR, a relaxation gesture. This conditioning will signal your brain: “You can let your guard down now.”

Even with a strong critical mind it is possible to shift.

5) Encouraging the release of critical thinking during the shifting time

The critical mind is the inner judge, the one that "watches to see if you’ve arrived". It blocks the shift, or at least makes it harder, because it keeps identifying with the ego and prevents letting go.

To deactivate it:

- Don’t use methods that are too rigid (unless they calm your critical mind if you're familiar with them)

- Choose a gentle method, leaving room for imagination without forcing

- Vague visualization or sensations > precise mental images

- Whispered or softly thought affirmations, not shouted or repeated frantically

Example:

“I let myself fall there”, “I’ve already left”, “My mind floats, that’s all”

No matter the affirmation, what matters is that it resonates with you, aligned with your state and emotions.

The methods of those who shift on command

6) Accepting differences in cognitive and sensory profiles

You're not “bad” if you can't visualize.

You're not “broken” if you don’t get it quickly.

Some people:

-Need total silence, others need background sound

-Don’t visualize, but feel

-Have an active mind: in that case, channel it into soft narration (“I’m sinking,” “I’m floating”)

-Need more repetition or conditioning (especially in cases of ADHD, autism, chronic anxiety)

What matters is the general state: calm, relaxation, acceptance, mental letting go.

Basically: it's not a matter of method, but of inner state.

What you should aim for is a modified state of consciousness, emotional relaxation, a soft loss of control, not mental performance.

-> You don’t shift by “thinking better”, you shift by “thinking less”, or rather, by letting go.

At the end, a tip to try tonight:

Lie down, close your eyes.

Breathe slowly. Let your body fall asleep.

Then think gently:

-> “It’s already done.”

“I have nothing to do.”

“I let myself drift.”

No goal. No visualization. No checking.

If nothing happens? It’s OK. You’ve already started aligning with the needed state.

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 10 - Smoke and Mirrors

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.4k words. People are hiding some very big secrets... if that's not obvious already...

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (scenting, heats), vomit, throwing up, Non-consensual drugging, mentions of past abuse, smut, masturbation, brief mentions of blood, angst, assault.

AN: Can you tell I'm bad at summaries?

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You’re in the lab. It’s early again. It’s getting exhausting. Today you were here even earlier than normal though. It’s about to be the weekend which means staff come in earlier to make sure they’ve got everything done before they go home. Dr. Miller seems tired too. He has late nights in the lab and early mornings with you. You’re pretty sure he’s looking forward to a break too.

“Here,” he says, sitting down in front of you with a plastic cup of what looks like water. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“What is it?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat away. 

“It’s going to stop your body from producing your omega scent. Or at least that's the idea,” he says, shrugging and writing something down on his clipboard. He watches out the corner of his eye as you drink the solution. It doesn’t taste of anything. 

“So what now?” you ask. 

“Nothing. We’ll come back in the evening. I'll take some blood, and we’ll see if it worked or not.” You nod standing up off the stool. You’re overwhelmed with dizziness. Your hand goes to the back of your neck. Why does this feel so familiar, it’s like déjà-vu. 

“It’s okay.” Dr. Miller's hands rest on your shoulders. “It’s easier this way. You won’t remember anything.” You try to turn but you can’t. Black spots appear in your vision as your body slumps against him. You feel sick as he guides your body to the floor. Then everything goes black. 

You wake in pain, stiff and cold as you look around the room. You’re in the medical room again. You hop off the bed and pain travels up your side. You pull your shirt up to see if there is anything there. Nothing. You walk to the door, your head spinning. You make it to the steps, still aching.

What happened?

Maybe you passed out again. You’ve been feeling weird lately, tired and strangely weak. It’s been days since your heat ended, you should be feeling fine. More than fine. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Dr. Miller makes you jump as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. You turn to him not knowing quite what to say. 

“I’m worried about you not eating properly. This is the second time I've tried to take blood and you’ve passed out,” he says. He looks worried. “Maybe I should talk to Dr. Piper about getting some tests done.”

“No,” you say quickly, holding your hands up. “She already has so much to worry about, I'm fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well and I should eat more.”  

“Okay,” he sighs, but you can tell he’s not happy about it, shaking his head as he sits back down on a stool. You rub the back of your head as you walk to the door. You’re being a bad omega. You need to take better care of yourself.

You don’t need Dr. Piper to worry. She needs to focus on the cure. You walk into the cold morning air. It’s so cold that you can see your own breath. You’ve never seen that before. It makes you smile as you pull your arms around you, crossing the green. 

The sun has just come up in the sky bursting through the clouds in shades of pink and orange. You take a second to enjoy it before walking into the barracks. 

“Been for a walk?” Simon asks. He’s in the kitchen by the kettle again. You smile and nod at him. 

“You shouldn’t be going out so early, especially now that it’s getting colder. You’ll catch a cold,” Dr. Piper says, still in her PJ’s, almost bullying Simon out the way so she can reach the coffee machine. You nod, walking in and closing the door behind you. 

“Cup of tea?” Simon asks. You look up at him shocked that he's asking you. You don’t think he’s ever asked you before. You open your mouth to say yes then you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Your hand flies to your stomach and you swallow the saliva filling your mouth. 

“Are you okay?” Dr. Piper frowns at you. You go to nod but panic rises in you and before you know it you’re sprinting into the bathroom. The first toilet you see you throw yourself over heaving into the bowl. You hear Dr. Piper come in behind you, her scent strong in the air as she grabs your hair pulling it out your face. Your head is throbbing as you continue to vomit until there is nothing left but bile. Dr. Piper rubs your back as quiet sobs leave your throat.

“You’re okay, deep breaths,” she says. You wait until you’re sure you’re not going to be sick anymore and then sit down, sweat dripping down your face. You see Simon in the doorway, and you feel heat running to your cheeks. Dr. Piper turns to take a glass of water from his hands.

“Want me to get Price?” he asks. 

“No,” she says before you even have time to shake your head or reply. She passes you the glass of water and you use it to swill your mouth out. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead.

“Fine,” you say, the adrenaline fading from your system making you feel tired. Dr. Piper hums. 

“What did you have to eat yesterday?” she asks. You try to think. There was the pudding that you didn’t like, but Johnny ate like 3 of them and he’s fine. You hope. 

“I can’t remember,” you say. She sighs standing up and offering you her hand. You take it standing up. Your head is still spinning. When you walk out to the common room you can see Johnny is up now sat at the table with Simon. You smile at him as Dr. Piper leads you to your room. She helps you change and get into bed. You want to tell her you’re fine, you’re capable of doing this yourself but you have a feeling she wouldn’t have it. 

You let her do what she needs to do, leaving the room quickly while you’re getting comfortable in bed, she comes back with a glass of water. 

“I promise if there is anything bothering you, or anything going on you can tell me. Or tell John, tell your alpha.” She’s looking at you like she’s pleading with you. You don’t know what to say. Should you tell her about passing out after you had blood taken? Maybe you’re sick and that’s what's happening. 

You look at her worried face. You don’t need to give her more to worry about. 

“I know, I’m okay though. I think I must have eaten something,” you say. She sighs. You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, but she doesn’t push you any further, just turning to leave the room. 

“Get some rest. I’ll come and check on you later,” she says, closing the door behind her. You take a deep breath in closing your eyes. You just hope you’re right and it is something you ate. 

You’re in the lab. You’ve been dreaming about the lab a lot recently. You’re with Dr. Miller again, and he’s making you smell q-tips. 

“What about this one?” he asks, shoving a q-tip under your nose. It doesn’t smell of anything, only when you look down it’s not a q-tip any more. It’s a cloth, the next thing you know the cloth is being pushed into your nose and mouth. He wraps his arm around your face and everything goes black. 

You wake strapped to the exam bed in the medical room. You see Dr. Miller with a scalpel in his hand just like before. The room is dark, and he’s wearing a surgical mask. You look down and you’re shirtless, you feel embarrassed being so exposed. There’s pen markings on your body. You start to panic as Dr. Miller moves to the side of you. You fight the restraints but it just feels like they get tighter making your hands and feet go numb. 

“It’s okay, it’s easier this way,” he says. His voice sounds harsh in your ears. You can see him smiling under the mask. He brings the scalpel down as you try to wriggle away. Pain shoots up your side, a burn worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. You scream and thrash. Dr. Miller brings the scalpel to your face. It’s dripping in blood, your blood. You feel sick. 

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” he spits through gritted teeth, his alpha strong in the air. You can only follow his instructions; you're in too much pain, too tired to fight. Before you know it black spots appear in your vision. Your last thought is about how much you let John down. Then everything goes black. 

Dr. Piper's mind is preoccupied as she reads through the email she has written up. She’s supposed to be sending it to Professor Hale, breakdowns of everything she’s been working on and the results. It’s the first contact she’s had with him since she left the base.

She wants to lie. She so badly wants to fake everything, but she wasn’t in the mood for the consequences. Her mouse is hovering over the send button at the top of the email. She just can’t bring herself to do it.

She has too much to worry about, the cure, her lab being bugged, and now there is something going on with the omega. 

“Working late?” Simon’s voice reverberates in the silence making Dr. Piper jump up in her seat, a yelp leaving her throat.

“Christ Simon. What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice coming across more hostile than she means it too. He walks into her office, closing the door behind him. He leans against the wall crossing his arms. 

“How is she?” he asks. She knows he’s talking about you.

“She’s fine. It could just be stress, it could be a lot of things. Kyle and Johnny have been keeping her busy,” she says, running her hand through her hair. 

“Are you worried?” he asks. 

“About what?” 

“The omega. The bugs,” he says, shrugging. She looks at him shocked. He knows about the bugs. Of course he knows about the bugs. He’s John’s lieutenant after all. Panic rises in her and she looks around the room almost wanting to shush him.

“Don’t worry this room is clear,” he says. She lets out a sigh, relaxing into the chair, a little smile on her lips. John already told her they weren't going to look for the bugs. Simon went out his way to clear this room. 

“I’m not worried about her. She has a strong pack around her,” she says looking back at the email. She should just send it. She’s being stupid. 

“What are you working on?” he asks, moving over to her desk. 

“Nothing, it’s stupid. It’s everything I needed to send to Professor Hale.” He looks over at the email. He hums reaching over her and clicking the mouse, pressing send. There’s a swoop and the page changes.

“Simon!” Piper pushes him out the way, clicking her sent box. Why was she panicking? She's been procrastinating all day, reading it at least a hundred times. 

“I wish I had the option to never speak to Hale again,” she says, huffing and leaning back in the chair.

“Yeah, well he never tortured you all his life did he,” he says as he leans back on the wall. That one stung. She sighs, shaking her head and crossing her arms. 

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” she asks, looking straight in his eyes.

“Why do you need my forgiveness?” 

“I don’t know, maybe I’m a narcissist.” There’s bitterness in her voice.

“Yeah well. We’re all a little bit selfish,” Simon says, looking at her. She sighs, opening her arms back up. She’s not supposed to be arguing with him. 

“Price wants her to help with a training exercise tomorrow. Think she’ll be up for it?” he asks. 

“More scenting stuff?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. He nods. “She should be fine.” 

“Do you think she’s in danger?” Simon asks her. She can hear the concern in his voice, and she can hear something else too. If she didn’t know him, she would think it was fear.

“I think she has a strong pack around her,” she repeats, it’s not up to her to say. 

“Would you give your life for her?” he asks. 

“Of course,” she says without hesitating, hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Why is he asking this? Has something changed? He’s not saying anything, maybe he’s trying to see if she’s lying or not. 

“Do you think she’s in danger?” she asks, making sure her voice doesn’t falter. He stands up from the wall turning to look at her.

“You said once that she will never be safe until Professor Hale is dead. Now he’s breathing down our necks. It’s the closest he’s been since we rescued her,” he says. She gets it now. John doesn’t think there’s any danger, but Simon disagrees. 

“She has 4 SAS soldiers around her almost 24/7. Hale doesn’t stand a chance.” She smiles hoping it will reassure him. Of course you will never be safe until Hale is dead, but rifts in the pack are just as dangerous. If you think you can’t trust them, if things start drifting apart, if they start drifting apart it could be devastating.

“How do you feel? Now the omega’s been claimed,” she asks.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s Price’s omega now.” He turns like he’s going to leave.

“Simon,” she sighs. He stops turning his head slightly. “We can look into other things, maybe even double claiming. It’s never been done but it could be possible.” 

“She trusts Price—” 

“She trusts you all. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself. You’re important to her too,” Piper interrupts him, getting up out of her chair. She lets out a sigh. He’s closing up again. He doesn’t need to. He’s still standing there. 

“You saved her life, you’re part of her pack. It won’t take much. Talk to her.” 

“She’s John’s omega,” he repeats and reaches for the door handle.

“She’s your omega too,” she tries but she watches as he presses down on the door handle leaving the room. She waits listening for the door to the lab to close before letting out a breath and sitting down. Maybe two alphas in a pack couldn’t work. No . For your sake at least they have to make it work.

You were happy when the next morning John asked if you would help with a training exercise. You assume it was going to be more scent training but instead he leads you to an empty barracks building. John tells everyone to wait as he takes you through into the building.

You go upstairs into one of the furthest rooms and see a chair set up in the middle of the floor. It makes your breath catch in your throat, in the dark it looks intimidating. John turns on a light and you can see what looks like bombs round the bottom of the chair. At the back of the room there’s a table with a laptop.

“It’s not real is it?” you ask. John chuckles, shaking his head. He walks into the room. 

“Now you can say no, but I would really like to try something. I want to push them to make sure they can act under pressure.” You nod following him as he gestures for you to sit down in the chair. 

“I want you to be scared, or more make them think you’re scared. Can you project a scared scent?” You watch as he walks back in front of you with zip ties in his hands. That alone makes you nervous enough.

“I can try,” you say. 

“Good girl. Let's have a safeword. I’ll be watching, if you need to stop for whatever reason you say that word and it’ll stop, understand?” he asks, you nod. 

“Purple,” he says.

“Purple,” you repeat. He nods, smiling at you. 

“I’ll tie you up now. Don’t worry, it won’t be tight. It’s just important that it's realistic.” You nod as he bends down, tying your ankles up to the chair legs. Panic seems to rise in you even though you know it's fake. That's good though, the more you actually panic the easier it will be to project a realistic scent of fear. John stands up going behind you. He takes your arms gently tying your wrists together, then against the chair. It’s uncomfortable but that's the point. He walks back round into the doorway. 

“Ready?” he asks. You nod at him. He hits the lightswitch in the room leaving you in the dark and closing the door. 

You’re alone in the dark with your arms and legs tied. It’s all too familiar to what you’ve been through before. You remember the times in the bunker when you would be tied to a chair like this. Normally it was because you were misbehaving. You would be left in the chair, force fed, tortured. This position always reminds you of water, and you’re not quite sure why.

The dark, the memories. It all feels a little too real. You hold on to that feeling, letting the fear wash over you projecting it out into the air. It feels like you’ve been sitting for ages. A shiver runs up your spine. You don’t like this. Maybe they’ve forgotten about you, maybe this was a test for you? More panic rises as you try to keep your breathing steady. Sweat is building up on your body. You can’t even hear them. If they were close you would be able to hear them. 

Maybe they have forgotten about you. 

You swallow hard, moving your legs and hands. The zip ties seem tighter all of a sudden. John said he was only doing them loose. You can’t get out of these. You can smell your own fear in the room now. Your eyes fully adjust to the dark but you can’t see much. The room is pretty empty other than the fake bombs at your feet that have been beeping louder and faster. 

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath.

“ It’s not real, it’s not real ,” you whisper to yourself. You hear noises, they sound distant. You squeeze your eyes closed tighter trying to focus on the noises. Is it them? Your mind goes to Dr. Miller for some reason, why did your mind go to him? It comes in flashes, and there’s a stabbing pain in the back of your neck. You want to move your hands to rub it but you can't. You start to squirm all of a sudden. It's real fear running through you now. You don’t know who’s coming through the door but you know it’s no one good. 

There’s a bang, your eyes fly open and you stop struggling. There is definitely someone close. You’re holding your breath listening to the voices, but in your panic you don’t recognize them. It could be anyone. 

The door crashes open. Light from the hallway floods in. You look away, blinking from the sudden change in brightness. You’re shaking, and it's real fear. The light in the room comes on and you see Johnny, Simon and Kyle spill in. 

“Hey lass, what’ve you been getting up to?” Johnny asks, smiling as he lets his weapon fall from his hands. You want to relax but you can't. You look at John leaning in the doorway, his gaze low. His nostrils flare as he breathes in your fear. Johnny’s cutting the ties round your ankles. You hear Kyle typing on the laptop behind you. 

“Hey Soap, check this out,” he says. Johnny gets up off the floor, his fingers quickly running over the fake bombs by your feet. The ones you swear have gotten louder with all the passing time. Johnny moves leaving your hands still tied. You look at Simon who looks more intimidating in his full black uniform and mask. You keep forgetting to ask him why he wears the mask. Right now you don’t care, you just want to get out of this situation. 

You look in his eyes, dark and moody, burning into you. His body seems more tense than usual. You look at the massive weapon in his hands, his finger resting by the trigger. Surely that’s fake too. 

“Hey lass, so we need you to stay nice and still okay?” Johnny says as he comes back round to stand in front of you taking what you assume are wire cutters out his vest. His tone and phrasing makes you freeze, you nod your mouth hanging open. He bends down to the floor looking round the fake bombs. 

“What's going on?” you ask. You don’t like how quiet Johnny has gone and you’re too scared to move. 

“Oh nothing, you’re just sitting on the trigger,” Johnny says, looking over at you still smiling. You look up at John in the doorway. You don’t remember seeing anything on the chair. For a second you forget the bombs aren't real, right now this feels real. Your fear is real. 

“Hey,” Johnny says, pulling your attention back to him. “It’s gonna be fine.” You don’t know what to do, you just stay still. You see Simon move to walk behind you. You almost follow him until you remember you were told not to move. 

“Do this a lot?” you ask, trying and failing to hide the shakiness in your voice. Your eyes fall back to John who’s stood up straight in the doorway now, his arms crossed, eyes flicking round the room. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. This will be tough for him too, his omega in fear.

“Abso-bloody-lutely!” Johnny chimes. That makes you relax a little. How can he still be so happy-go-lucky right now? You wonder if it’s because he knows it’s fake. Or maybe he is like this all the time. You try to watch him working. Every now and then he looks back up at you smiling. 

“Soap!” Kyle says. Suddenly the beeping gets faster. 

“What did you do?” Simon’s voice calls from behind you, and there’s an edge in his voice. You’re holding your breath. Something is wrong. Even a second of panic washes over Johnny as he looks over at Kyle who has come to help him now. They’re both talking to each other making their way round the chair. 

“60 seconds,” Simon says. You hear Johnny curse under his breath. You swallow hard. 

“Triggers on a delay,” you hear Kyle say next. Johnny looks at him quickly then back at you. 

“ Christ , this whole thing is a mess, what amateur set this up?” Johnny asks quickly.

“30 Seconds,” Simon says. Your heart is thumping so hard in your chest you can hear it in your ears. You look up at John. You can’t tell if his expression has changed as he’s watching them work. His arms still crossed, shoulders tight. 

“15,” Simon says, and the smell of fear hits you hard and fast. That’s not your fear. You look down at Johnny. 

“10.” You’re counting in your head, it feels like the seconds are going quicker. 

“Got it! Got it!” Johnny says pulling something up off the floor, a seconds later the beeping whines and stops. 

“Could you have cut that any closer?” Kyle lets out a sigh standing up. You watch as Johnny smiles at him, winking and putting the wire cutters back on his vest. You’re still holding your breath as you feel Simon cut the ties behind your back. Your arms swing by your side. Your body is shaking. You bring one of your wrists up rubbing it. 

“I’m telling you, whoever made this is an amateur,” Johnny says looking round. 

“Save it for the report,” Simon says walking back around to your view. 

“C’mon lass, let's get you out of here.” Johnny throws his weapon over his shoulder and offers you his hand and you take it. You step over the mess of fake bombs on the floor. Before you can make it to the door you feel Johnny scoop you up by your knees and back, picking you up in his arms. 

“Johnny!” you yelp, giggling as he presses you uncomfortably against his chest. Last time you were held like this, Kyle was carrying you out of the bunker. 

"Pretty hostages get the princess treatment,” he says. You giggle, heat running to your cheeks as he carries you down the hallway. 

“What about everyone else?” you tease him. 

“They get thrown over LT’s shoulder,” Johnny replies. You look over his shoulder at Simon talking with John as Kyle walks behind you. Kyle smiles at you as Johnny puts you down just before the end of the hallway. You look down the hall. John and Simon are still talking. 

“Did I make a good hostage?” you ask. The smile seems to fade from Johnny’s face. Kyle too. Maybe that's not something you should be asking. Before Johnny could respond, John calls over to you all. Everyone turns, walking back down the hall. 

“Good job, I want full reports,” John says. You hear Johnny sigh as Simon crosses his arms. You tune out their protesting. John catches your eye, and there’s something on his face, something you’ve never seen before. Maybe you didn’t do a good enough job. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You go back to listening to Johnny and Kyle. 

“Any questions?” John says finally wrapping up the conversation. 

“Who set the bombs?” Johnny asks.

“Some demo guy from Shadow Company.” Price says.

“Ah that explains it,” Johnny says, nudging you.

“Put it in the report MacTavish,” Simon says, nodding behind him. Johnny chuckles and follows Simon to the end of the hallaway. You go to follow after them but John grabs your arm. You stop looking up at him. He pulls you into the room, maybe a little too hard, closing the door behind you. He bends down in front of you placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyes wide. He looks scared. His breathing picks up as he looks around your face. You frown at him, and you nod your mouth feeling suddenly dry. 

“Say it, I need to hear you say it.” 

“I’m okay John, I’m okay.” 

He nods letting go of your shoulders. It’s fear you see in his eyes. You can smell it in the air too, fear and worry. You throw yourself at him squeezing him as hard as you can. His arms wrap around you and you breathe in his scent, projecting yours for him. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest. He’s scared . You’ve never seen him scared before. He kisses the top of your head, and you break away from the embrace. 

“Go catch up with the others. Keep them company while they write their reports,” he says. He seems to have calmed down now. His thumb brushes your cheek, and you smile back at him, nodding. You go to leave the room, quickly looking back to see him take his hat off running his hand through his hair. Maybe he’s the one who needs to do some training. He kept it together though, all the way to the end. 

You make your way down to the hall the same way you remember watching everyone leave a few seconds earlier. The door to the stairwell is open and you walk down the first set of the stairs when you hear it. It sounds like someone breathing heavily, exacerbated almost like they’re struggling to breathe. You slow down, holding your breath. You peek around the next set of steps and you see Simon.

He’s stood in the stairwell, his back to you bracing himself on the banister. His breathing is heavy, his back bobbing up and down as he tries to get a lungful of air. You can smell him in the air, his alpha strong and something else.

Fear.

You step around the corner, swallowing your nerves. You take another step down, before you make another step he turns around. The bottom of his mask is pulled up over his nose and mouth. You freeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. It feels like the seconds are lasting for hours. Your knuckles go white as you grip the banister.

“I’m okay Simon,” you say. You can't falter now, you need to be confident. He looks at you as you take another step down. Maybe he’ll flee, but he hasn’t yet. He’s standing there. His eyes are soft, kind. You take another step and reach out for him, and you expect him to flinch, to back up. He doesn’t. He reaches out for your hand, his gloved fingers touching yours. You smile at him, lacing your fingers between his. 

“I’m okay,” you say. He takes a step towards you, his eyes scanning round your face. Your heart is thumping in your chest. You let him squeeze your hand. You want to hug him and tell him it’s all okay. Maybe John pushed them too far. The betas would be fine but alphas smelling your fear—it’s hard on both of them. They’re your pack. You should have gone easier on them. 

Simon lets out a long breath, letting go of your hand. He reaches up and pulls his mask down. He turns to walk away.

“Simon, wait,” you call, jumping down to the stairwell with him. You don’t know what to say, and you feel like anything you say he wouldn’t listen to. You just go up to him, throwing your arms around him from behind. He waits a few seconds before he turns around and you drop your arms. His hands land on your shoulders just like John had done before, holding you at arms length.

“You’re John’s omega,” he says as a matter of fact. 

“You’re my alpha too,” you say back to him. You mean it. He’s your pack. Who says you can’t have 2 alphas?

“John claimed you,” he says.

“You’re part of the pack, that makes you as much of my alpha as John.” He lets his hands drop from you. There's a pause, silence, his brown eyes burning into you.

“I can’t,” he says, turning to leave, shaking his head. You feel sad. You don’t know what you could have done differently. You wait until you’ve watched him make it through the door at the bottom of the stairs. You feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You sit down on the bottom step throwing your head in your hands sobbing. 

You’ve ruined it. You’ve messed it all up and now he’s going to want to have nothing to do with you. You hear John come down the steps. He sits down next to you pulling you into his arms. He’s not asking what's wrong or what happened. He must have been listening. 

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing the top of your head. 

“I tried,” you say between sobs. 

“I know, you did good,” he says, holding you close. Pack bonds are fragile things. You’ve always been told that. It’s your job as an omega to keep the bonds secure. If you can’t do that, Simon could break away from the pack. You don’t want that. You have to do better. But now you’ve messed it all up. 

Everytime you think you’re making progress with Simon he turns away. Maybe he really does hate you. Maybe the pack would be better without him. You break from John’s embrace looking up at him as he rubs the tears away with his thumb. 

You have to make it work, for the sake of the pack.

When you get back to the barracks it’s dark. When you walk in, the building is empty, so you walk down to your room. Everyone’s doors are locked. John goes into his office. You don’t know what you want to do. You feel drained when you step into your room. You don’t want to be in your nest, you don’t want to sleep. You turn back out the room, closing the door. 

You walk up to John’s office knocking on the door. You wait for him to call you in before entering. He smiles when he sees you. 

“Can I sit in here?” you ask. He leans back in his chair nodding then gets up. He picks up a folder then moves to sit down on the tiny sofa in his office. You smile crawling up onto the sofa leaning into his shoulder. He leans back resting the folder on his thighs.

“What’s that?” you ask. 

“Final report from the mission. I need to check it over before I give it to Shepherd.” You look down at it. You don’t know what any of it means and you’re probably not even supposed to be seeing it. 

“You know, Professor Hale used to make me lay on his lap when he was working.” You look up at John. 

“Is that something you want to do?” he asks, looking down at you. You sit up on your knees. He’s giving you a choice. You haven’t even done it for the Professor in a long while. At the thought of it though there’s something warm building up inside you. You nod. He smiles, moving the folder out of the way. You lay down facing away from him, your head resting on his thighs. 

He has strong thighs, you can feel them under your head. That warmth bubbles up inside you and you relax as his hand comes to stroke your head. He tucks your hair behind your ear and you close your eyes, breathing in his scent letting it relax you. 

After a few minutes you hear a relaxed hum leave his throat as he flicks through the file. You smile. You’re making him happy, being a good omega for him. Your body feels warm and relaxed. With his hand running through your hair, you’re almost purring at the feeling. His hand moves down the back of your head over the base of your skull before he stops. You open your eyes.

“You can touch it, if you want. It’s your mark,” you say, keeping as still as possible so you don’t spook him. His hand stops for a few seconds as he thinks about it. He moves his hand to your ear so he can pull your hair out the way revealing the back of your neck. You stay nice and relaxed for him so he knows it’s okay as his fingers brush over the indents in the skin. He takes his time, gentle as he follows the mark all the way around. 

“Beautiful,” he says. 

It’s like something snaps in your brain. Beautiful. Memories come flooding back. Dr. Miller, the cups of, something. Pain pulses through your body, you remember your body on the lab floor, Dr. Miller's voice in your ear. His words are ringing in your head. 

‘It didn’t have to be like this’

‘It’s easier this way. You won’t remember anything’

You thought it was a dream. You thought it was your mind playing tricks. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes you feel sick.

You sit back up knocking the file out John’s hand. Your hand goes to the back of your neck. You’re trying so hard to focus on the memories flashing into your mind. 

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” he asks. You look over at him swallowing. 

“No, it’s not you,” you say getting up off the sofa. He sits up straight watching you as you continue to rub the back of your neck. 

“I forgot I have to go do something quickly,” you say heading for the door. Your hand is shaking as you press the door handle. You look back at John. He's frowning at you as he reaches down to pick up the file.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I promise,” you say. You go out quickly dropping your hand from the back of your neck closing the door behind you. You head for the lab. You want to see Dr. Miller. He drugged you. You thought it was just dreams. It feels so real. You feel sick, you trusted him.

You need him to tell you it’s not true and that you’re making it all up. There’s no way he would hurt you. You trust him. He’s working on the cure. You can’t ignore the feeling though, the dreams you’ve been having over the past few days. They’re not dreams, they're memories. 

You’re shaking as you walk into the lab. You don’t know what you’re going to do, or what you’re going to say. Maybe you should have spoken to Dr.Piper first. What if she didn’t believe you? You need to do this. You want proof. Dr. Miller is sitting at a table watching you walk over to him. He smiles but you keep your distance. You swallow your nerves. 

You trusted him, and now his smile sends shivers up your spine

“What’s up?” he asks, looking up from his work giving you his full attention. 

“I keep having these dreams,” you say, trying not to sound shaky. You’re focusing almost all your attention on controlling your scent. 

“Sleeping pills not working?” he asks confused, leaning back on his stool. 

“Sometimes I come here and I feel like I lose hours of time. I wake up upstairs and I don’t know what happened,” you explain. He straightens up in his stool. 

“I’ve always told you what’s happened,” he says, looking confused. 

“I just want the truth, I have dreams about you, and it feels so real. Almost like they’re memories.” You rub the back of your neck as he stands up. You don’t like how he’s coming towards you, his alpha strong in the air. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. You want John. Coming alone was definitely a bad idea.

“I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself and to tell you I can’t help you anymore,” you say. He smiles at you but instead of calming you it makes you feel sick. 

“And I’m telling Dr. Piper,” you say quickly backing up. You hit a table. This is as far back as you can go. The door is just slightly to your left. You would have to turn to open it though. 

“Dreams don’t mean anything,” he says. He’s about a foot away from you when he stops. His scent is overwhelming, and fear rises in you. This was a stupid idea and now you’re trapped. 

“Dr. Miller, you’re scaring me,” you say, trying to hold back the fear burning inside of you. Your fight or flight has kicked in and you’re choosing to flee. 

“Sorry,” he says with the last step towards you. You don’t even realise he’s reaching for your arm until it’s too late. Panic bubbles up and you take a sharp breath in when his hand makes contact with your skin. Your body turns without you thinking and now you’re attempting to head for the door. He’s stronger than you though, pulling you to him. 

You stumble on your feet crying out as he pulls you against him. His arm drops round your stomach as he pulls you up off the floor dragging you backwards. You scream and kick, fighting him as much as you can. It’s pointless though: he’s way bigger and stronger than you. He picks something up off the table and a second later you feel a sharp pain as a needle plunges into your neck. 

A few seconds later a burn rises inside you. You scream, your vision going blurry, there’s a pulsing in your body. All you can smell is alpha then honey. Your head is spinning as he lets you go. Your hand comes up to the back of your neck. 

You feel like you’re floating, bumping into a table, tripping over a stool. There’s throbbing between your legs, a pain in your core. You only want one thing John. You need John. You blink away the fuzziness. Looking around, you see that you’re in the lab. You can’t remember what you needed.

You don’t care. You need John, you need your alpha. You force your body to open the door, stumbling down the steps. The cold air hits your skin, making you dizzy. You don’t know which way you’re going, you just follow the smell of alpha. You’re sure he’s nearby. 

“John!” you call out for him. Your vision is going blurry again. There’s pain burning in your core, your pussy throbbing as slick soaks your underwear. Your clothes are irritating your skin, brushing past your rock hard nipples. You want to pull your clothes off but it’s too cold. Your body meets a door. You’re not sure where you are but you push down on the handle stumbling in. You stumble, you don’t have time to put your arms out to break the fall and your head slams into the floor painfully. 

“Christ love!” You hear voices. You can smell beta. There are hands pulling you up off the floor. You try to look up at who’s holding you but you just whine instead. The skin to skin contact feels like burning. It sends vibrations through your body. 

“Alpha,” you call as you’re picked up. You hear someone calling for Dr. Piper. You can smell alpha now, it’s strong in the air. You reach out trying to find him in your haze, your eyes darting at the blurry figures around you. You feel cold hands on your face and you wince at the temperature difference. Your name is called, then again, someone pulls your face to look at them. 

“Who did this?” It’s Dr. Piper, she's the one with her hands on your face. It sounds like her words are echoing in your ears. You have a moment of clarity. You were in the lab, what were you doing in the lab? 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” That’s John’s voice, you whine reaching out for him again. Whoever is holding you keeps you in his arms as the cold hands leave your face. 

“She’s in heat. Someone forced her heat.” You breathe in John’s scent as you see him come over to you. His hand brushes your cheek. 

“Alpha,” you whine trying to grab him, touch him. 

“Take her to my room. And someone tell me where the bloody hell Riley is!” His shout makes you stop whining. You protest as you’re taken away into another room. The next thing you know you’re placed down on a bed. The figure leaves as the burning comes back to your skin. You want to claw it off. 

Fire in your veins, pain in your chest. Your body is covered in slick and sweat. You’re clawing your clothes off as you dribble over the pillow caked in John’s scent. 

“John…” You breathe, thrusting your fingers into your sore cunt trying to quell the growing pain. It feels like someone has rubbed chilly all over your pulsating body.  

Raw and sticky you roll over in the bed, arching your back as you grind down on your hand, trying anything to feel friction between your legs.

“Alpha...” you whine as your vision fades, clenching down on your fingers, only giving you a few seconds of relief. You need to cum, you need relief. You’re thrusting your fingers in and out curling them up to hit the rough spot inside you. Your palm grinds on your swollen clit. It’s not enough. You need more. You whine in frustration as your other hand cups around your breast pinching your nipple. 

You moan out, John’s name on your lips as you chase the high, grinding harder, your hand becoming soaked in your slick. You press your fingers in harder, your palm rubbing as hard as you can. Your body is sensitive but you need an alpha, your own hands are not enough. Your body starts to shake as you get closer to the edge. You know it’s not going to be enough but you will take anything right now. 

You cum chewing on the bottom of your lip as you moan out, your body going rigid, your back arching. You taste blood in your mouth as you come down from the orgasm, your lip throbbing from the pain of breaking the skin.

You let out a sob as your body relaxes. It’s not enough, none of it is enough. Your breathing picks up again as black spots fade into your vision. You’re going to be too out of it soon. You roll over in the bed sinking your nose into John’s pillow. You breathe in his scent, and it makes your head spin. You call out for him one more time but no one comes. 

A few seconds later the burn comes back.

Next

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[npdzane]

I think the fandom of Ninjago should talk about Zane's fear of losing his humanity and his fear of any negative emotion in general. And how they contradict each other.

(warning, yap sesh ahead) TLDR: can nindroids get therapy? If so we need 5 therapists for Zane immediately

It's already established that Zane has a fear of being seen as just a machine, nothing but a freezer with fake coded emotions. But I haven't seen anyone talk in depth how he seems to turn off his emotions whenever he's faced with grief or stress, and how he only learnt to not do that far into his life.

He probably picked up that habit from when Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch before "dying" back in season 1. And he realized that if he went so long not feeling bad about the "death" of his creator by simply not remembering it or not having the actual emotion of grief, he wouldn't feel bad either when anything similar happened if he just turned off his emotions like Dr. Julien did to him.

The fact this lasted as long as it did meant nobody picked up on it* and tried to tell him he was wrong. Which only validated that idea because if there was a problem with it, someone would've told him..right?

But how can you say you don't want to lose your sense of humanity as a robot while simultaneously doing something humans can't whenever you're faced with stress? I'd say he'd overthink it, and feel guilty about not being honest with himself. He knows hes being irrational, but hes still terrified of the thought of no one seeing him as a person.

But at the same time, he's never been taught how to face stress by himself. Only for other people. It's not like he just doesn't know that ignoring your feelings is a way to avoid the problem and a bad coping mechanism, he obviously knows that. He probably just doesn't know any other solutions because his situation is so niche.

Because how could anyone not want what he has? In his position, he probably feels as if everyone would kill to be a nindroid. Since nobody tells him otherwise. We even see clips where the others use Zane's robot body as a joke or in one case, use him as a fucking cleaning robot. Can you imagine how dehumanizing it must feel for someone to be forced against their will like a puppet into doing a weeks worth of chores?

Zane probably feels as if his fears are irrational. Like he shouldn't have them because being a nindroid seems to be the only thing that others care about when they see him. He's a logical person for sure, but everyone has irrational thoughts and unless you face the reason you have those thoughts they aren't going to go away and they'll cloud your judgement. Zane, for sure, is not doing that. Because we can see he just simply forces himself to stop having emotions when they happen instead of facing them, which only fixes it temporarily.

So hes afraid of being seen as just a freezer with fake emotions (i have more to say about the "fake emotions" part), and because he doesn't face his feelings about why hes afraid of that he lets himself believe that is how people see him. Which causes him to think that fear is stupid and that he shouldn't have it, which makes him turn off his emotions for a while, and the cycle continues.

He also might believe his emotions arent needed. Like maybe at some point he convinces himself that if everyone else only sees him as a calculator with ice powers, maybe that's what he actually is. So on top of everything, he feels like since hes only a computer, all his emotions are fake. Therefore unnecessary.

Not to mention he most likely feels as if he's weak for letting Vex manipulate him. And emotions = weak, weak = manipulated again, manipulated again = letting everyone down. But thats just a little thought i had to let out.

If i could write I'd probably make a fic about him being confronted by this fear, but until then it'll stay in my brain.

Poor boy. Just look at him. He doesn't deserve this bro AUUGIGUGJGJGGHHGHHHH IM AUTISTIC 🥹

Edit: *i rewatched crystalized today and realized the other ninja ARE aware of Zanes habit. They just dont gaf 😭WHICH MAKES IT WORSE!!!

[imagine-darksiders]

Hello again, Cooked Anon reporting back with tears in my eyes. Spoiler warning for anybody who hasn’t played/seen Clash: Artifacts of Chaos. I just finished watching the last of the game and I am going to explode into a cloud of viscera. This is a Kax-Teh Hate account now but also not cuz I GET IT BUT ALSO?!?!!!?? I am distraught I am heartbroken but I am hopeful in a weird way. Word the Giant Land Whale Grandpa is right that change HAS to happen but but… did it HAVE to happen like this? 😭😭😭

After all that after everything?? Every fight and all that peril trying desperately to stay together??? After each of them having lost so much and only really having each other??? I was SHRIEKING when the Boy went missing!! And Pseudo *gross sobbing* running across the whole island, fighting up a mountain, pushing himself to the brink of death fighting Kax-Teh, him screaming “I don’t want to be alone again”?? AND BOTH OF THEM CALLING EACH OTHER “son” AND “father”??? Hey Ace Team???? We are fighting in a parking lot somewhere!!!! YES all of you!! These hands are rated E for Everyone!! Y’all are gettin boxed up like this is Amazon Prime! And I WILL be crying the whole time

I need to lay down in a field somewhere and be subsumed by the earth ;-; nobody even died and yet here I am… LAMENTING. 10/10 I’d have my heart ripped out of my chest a second time. Now I’m gonna go re-reread your fics to make myself feel better ASKXLSOQBDJFKSBASKDODNAKQKWPDNSKAKSNF 😭

(On an EXTREMELY less sad note: I couldn’t take Kax-Teh seriously for a sec because his voice reminded me of Dr. Claw from the old Inspector Gadget cartoon and that really helped take some of the edge off the ending…. Until the little drawings started scrolling up with the credits and I lost my shit again)

ANON!!!!!

Comprehend my struggles.

I was sat there in my pyjamas, controller on the floor, DISTRAUGHT, as the credits rolled and the Boy's pictures appeared.

That transition from "What are you doing to my- to the Boy?" to "You will not take my son!" ruined me.

Pseudo, you've known this kid for like a week. Chill.

Like the story was so simple but resonant, do you use the gifts you're given to help or to hurt, and after a certain point, when does helping become hurting? What if helping one person hurts another? It's about letting go!!!!!!!!!!! The Grief!!!

The little outfits you can get for the Boy to make him more comfortable through each zone :]

I love that Pseudo's not a 'smart' protagonist, he doesn't have all the answers and he prefers to brute force his way to a solution like when he thinks the instrument is hurting the Boy, he just starts punching it and telling it to 'leave him alone.'

You begin to realise that Pseudo's only goal in the game isn't anything more complex than, 'keep this kid safe by killing the Big Bad who's after him, then he can stay with me and I'll take care of him forever.' And you're like Yes! Awesome! Let's do it!

But IT'S. NOT. THAT. SIMPLE. weeh.

[rei-ismyname]

What the fuck, Beast?

I'm going to start by saying that IvX is ridiculous and almost everyone is out of character to some degree. Hank McCoy had fallen off the jerk slope in recent years, but this shit is just too far.

Here's Medusa, being subtle.

The Inhuman Terrigen Cloud is circling the Earth, making new Inhumans wherever it goes. The problem is that it kills mutants, as Jamie Madrox, Cyclops and Alchemy found out. Emma Frost already destroyed the other cloud, and the Inhumans were not happy. A truce was agreed to while Beast worked on a 'all things are possible with science' solution, but he's made zero progress and time is up.

The cloud is going to do some technobabble and render the planet uninhabitable for mutants. Beast has just realised they've got 2 weeks until that point but Iso, his Inhuman helper (and watcher,) has not.

Look at the big brain thinking big thoughts, familiar images of death and genocide, grief and trauma. Quite probably thoughts of past science failures too, like reversing M Day. He's been very confident up until this point, annoyingly so, but now he's terrified.

After visiting Scott's grave and having a complicated conversation with his headstone, Dr McCoy meets with the various Mutant factions to pitch his incredibly clever solution.

He really beats around the bush getting to the point, acknowledging everyone else's efforts with some disdain. Particularly Magneto, who doesn't give a fuck what he thinks. It's so bad that the School is in Limbo - the Hell dimension Ilyana unwillingly grew up in.

Beast finally gets to the point in his own verbose way, breaking down the what, why and when. Cloud, science mumbo jumbo, two weeks. The solution is coming, I promise.

Everyone starts yelling and pointing fingers, mostly at Hank. Magneto slams his fist on the table like Judge Judy - he will be heard.

Obviously, he refuses to accept his people being gassed to death. Yeah, they really went there. IvX is not subtle with the Holocaust and Hitler analogies. Drumroll please, the good doctor proposes his solution - ALL MUTANTS LEAVE THE PLANET FOREVER. What the fuck?

Almost everyone (except Rogue for some reason) is like 'you're a fucking idiot, let's just kick the shit out of them and destroy the cloud.' Beast is terrified of the Inhumans for some reason and thinks mutants have zero chance of beating them. Sure, there's a lot of them, but X-Men have been fighting pretty much everyone since forever. Mags and Storm could probably do it themselves if this event wasn't so ridiculous.

As is the case with many Marvel hero vs hero events, there's a failure to construct an impossible decision where both sides have equal merit. The Inhumans have known Terrigen fucks mutants up since just after M-Day, and they have access to other sources of it. Those factors are ignored for the sake of the plot, and Beast acts like a coward and a fool. If I was being generous I'd say he's traumatized but that's not made explicit. The X-Men end up knocking the Inhumans over quite easily too, as most of their firepower is contained within a handful of people. Anywayyyyy, a majority votes for war. Forge abstains and Rogue votes no for some reason.

That's that settled, except Beast isn't finished with ridiculous choices. Magneto proposes he use his access to Atillan and he agrees, except to snitch to the Inhumans. I guess he thinks this would force the mutants to evacuate, but it would just rob them of the element of surprise.

As he stomps off, Storm hits him with a lightning bolt, incapacitating him. He really asks 'why?' as if he didn't just witness Ororo vote for war. Fortunately, his annoying ass is locked up for the rest of the event, though he receives apologies after it's over. Seems like it should be the other way round to me, but as I said, IvX is ridiculous. Beast thinking leaving the planet forever is the only choice is absurd, though Emma's characterisation is even worse IMO. Oh boy.

[sweetstwawbewwymilk]

Imagine with me.

Imagine an Agency that understands the danger of its work, and has become desensitized to it after many brutal years. Imagine an Agency that, while having noble intentions, is just as guilty of using their Agents as chess pieces as its enemies. Imagine an Agency that's staggeringly hesitant towards changes to the status quo, as deviation had been synonymous with death for nearly their entire lifetime. Imagine this stagnation driving away their brightest and bravest, turning them towards independent ventures... or much darker pursuits.

Imagine Reginald Crane. Imagine being on the front lines of the battle against seemingly insurmountable evil. Imagine time or tragedy wearing on you. Imagine being unable to engage directly like you've always loved, but being unwilling to abandon the fight. Imagine being given the opportunity to become a support agent. Imagine losing your Agent. Imagine losing your Agent. Imagine losing your Agent. Imagine with horror as you realize, with every dying gasp, every plea for help, every flatline, that you were one of the lucky ones. Imagine building up walls of snarky comments, of cold indifference, of "Don't get attached", so you never feel the pain of being The Lucky One. Imagine burying your hurt deep. Imagine putting up a facade so that your judgement isn't clouded. Imagine doing everything in your power to make sure the next one doesn't meet the same fate. Imagine losing the Agent. Imagine losing the Agent.

Imagine Dr. Roxana Prism. Imagine possessing a brilliance so great it practically possesses you. Imagine dreaming, studying and working your entire life to leave a legacy that will outlive you. Imagine finding The Agency, being thrilled, overjoyed, that you finally had the resources and support to pursue your research. Imagine discovering Kinesium, and it's immense, nigh-reality-bending powers. Imagine discovering your legacy. Imagine inventing a device that gave people mastery over gravity itself; inventing Telekinesis. Imagine your invention being used everywhere on the field, creating an entire Division of the Agency. Imagine being held in such high regard, you're made the Head of Research and Development. Imagine that not being enough. Imagine your Agents still dying, even with your "best work" behind them. Imagine an Artificial Agent - metal body, electric mind, perfect and whole and deathless. Imagine becoming attached to your new creation. Imagine becoming extremely attached to your new creation Imagine being so proud of what you've made; a device that could eliminate the danger of the world's most dangerous job. Imagine the humiliation when, somehow, it all goes wrong. Imagine being told your best isn't enough. Imagine being more betrayed than you ever had before. Imagine leaving the people you thought could help you behind, swearing you'd never make the same mistake again. Imagine making the biggest mistake of your life soon after.

Imagine all that? Good. Now imagine someone else. Imagine being assigned another Agent. Imagine putting your walls up. They likely won't last the day. Imagine them being chaotic Imagine them surviving. Imagine them surviving. Imagine them surviving. Imagine your walls being chipped away at, one mission at a time, as you find yourself forming something resembling a Bond (heh) despite yourself. Imagine being drawn closer with each quirk, each eccentricity, each brilliant solution that is anything but orthodox. Imagine sending them on the most dangerous mission you've ever sent any of your Agents on. Imagine them surviving. Imagine rumors spreading about them. Imagine people saying they're immortal, they're invincible....

Imagine your Agent gaining a Name. Imagine remembering when you got yours; strong as stone, they called you. Imagine them surviving. Imagine being more afraid than you ever had in recent memory. For the sake of the world, or the life of your Agent, you can't tell anymore. Imagine you're about to see them off again. Imagine committing your Agency's biggest taboo. Imagine calling them by their Name. Imagine watching as they heroically trade their life for the world's. Imagine, against everything, that Agent Phoenix somehow survives. Imagine mourning them so much, you nearly leave the Agency you've spent nearly your whole life serving. Imagine being so overjoyed at their remarkable return, you don't care about your old walls anymore. Imagine the rumors growing into legend. Imagine one of your own becoming a hero. Imagine your goofiest, most chaotic, most unorthodox Agent being the best thing for your recruitment efforts in recent memory. Imagine the Agency's best asset fall into your lap. Imagine seeing the perfect opportunity to prove them all wrong. Imagine seeing them disarm your every trap, dodge your every attack, outwit your every plan. Imagine them not giving up. Imagine your old friend trying to get through to you. Imagine as you keep improving your work. Imagine making your robots stronger and stronger. Imagine them not giving up Imagine them both following you to your factory. Imagine preparing to cement your legacy as a brilliant scientist - as the one who overcame even the Great Phoenix. Imagine being well and truly betrayed. Imagine losing what you've loved the most. Imagine telling them you never want to see them again. Imagine seeing them again anyway. Imagine them not giving up. Imagine dying. Imagine not. Imagine, despite all logic, despite all sense, Phoenix saves you. Imagine working together to save hundreds (thousands, now) of lives. Imagine remembering that this is what you started inventing for: to leave the world a better place than when you found it. Imagine dragging the person who saved you to safety. Imagine leaving with a renewed sense of purpose. Imagine not giving up.

Imagine Agent Phoenix. Imagine joining the Agency. Imagine being told, very early that you are "A spy. Not a hero." Imagine thinking that's stupid. Imagine doing things your own way. Imagine threatening the status quo. Imagine being told you won't last long. Imagine burning through every handler assigned to you, until you find one who can keep up with your bullshit. Imagine the politics of The Agency shift and churn behind the scenes while you're off saving the world. Imagine the "orthodox" being questioned. Tested. Imagine Agents, who were told that they were small parts of a much bigger collective force, who were told their job is risky and they will need to lay down their lives for the greater good, seeing you survive. Imagine becoming a symbol of hope and heroism entirely without your knowledge. Imagine more Agents coming home. Imagine your Handler getting slaps on the back and congratulations from other support Agents. Imagine your Creator becoming far more invested in your exploits. Imagine coming back to the office from Babadag, being looked at in awe by your fellow Agents, being greeted with awe and reverie, with being confused as to why. Imagine the halls becoming so much livelier. Imagine coming back to a different Agency than you left. Imagine, little by little, Agent by Agent, life by life, you've been changing things more than you'll ever know.

[fanficrocks]

Lost some of his bounce

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Fandom: Endeavour (TV)

Word count: 765

Set post-Zenana through the events of Striker. Written for FFF295 Help Not Wanted. For what can better describe DS Endeavour Morse?

Fred Thursday is a worried man. It is barely 24 hours since he returned to Oxford with a shattered Endeavour in tow, and already his bagman is weary of his and Win’s company. He wants to return home—to that empty echoing house he is in the process of fixing up; or rather to the loneliness that can eat a man’s soul, Fred thinks. The young man needs to be looked after, cared for if not cosseted until he recovers from the events in Venice. But he is forced to accept that with Endeavour, one might as well run into a concrete barrier emblazoned “HELP NOT WANTED”. Ever.

Win Thursday shoots a scowl at her husband. After more than a quarter century of marriage, she knows exactly when he has given in to Morse’s insistence on being left alone. Left alone - when he can barely hold his head upright! And having gone into that frightful barrack of a house of his when the men were both in Venice, she knows exactly what he will be going “home” to. An abandoned squat he is slowly restoring—if it doesn’t destroy him first—and a liquid diet. At least, she can do something about the second of those evils, Win thinks. Even if it is only sending extra sandwiches to work through Fred. 

Fred is desperate for a good night’s rest - he is getting too old for these shenanigans: little to no proper sleep for weeks, then a mad dash to Venice, the nightmare in that graveyard, all crowned by the desperate need to make the Italian police understand Endeavour’s innocence. A small part of him is relieved that the language he had picked up during the war had lasted long enough for the attempt… but most of him is just too tired. But he has one more thing to do before he can sleep tonight. Endeavour might have shut him out, but perhaps another will fare better.

“Debryn.”

“Doctor? Thursday here.”

“And what can I do for you, Chief Inspector? Other than wishing you a Happy New Year. At least, I hope it is happy.”

“Thank you, doctor, and wish you the same. And I need a favour. About Morse…” 

 Win waits on the landing, unabashedly listening to Fred’s phone call with Dr. Debryn, and praying that Morse will accept his best friend’s help even if turns down their own. Although a bachelor and a loner to the best of her knowledge, Debryn is a very different sort from Morse. It’s not just his training, she thinks, as much as his inherent nature, that makes him a practical man with feet firmly planted on the ground. Quite unlike Morse with his head frequently in the clouds.  Yes, Fred’s latest attempt has merit. Will it actually bear fruit though?  That’s something time alone will tell.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fred Thursday returns to his office after the meeting with Bright, his conversation with the Chief Superintendent echoing in his mind.

And Morse, how's he these days?

Morse is Morse, sir. You know more than anyone what last year took out of a soul. He walks a step slower maybe.

Lost some of his bounce, you mean?

A bit less full of himself. A bit less cocksure. That's not always a bad thing. A bit of uncertainty, a bit of doubt makes a man more careful in his work. More thorough. 

Perhaps time does that to all of us, sooner or later. There are some blows from which one never quite recovers. Not fully, at least. 

One thing's for sure. He's no more the kid that got off the coach from Carshall NewTown.

It is in some ways a relief to know that Bright is sympathetic to the plight of his DS. For Fred is uncomfortably aware that regardless of Endeavour’s attempts to appear in control, they are fast approaching the point where he needs far more help than the Thursdays and Debryn can quietly and informally cobble together.

~~~~~~~~~~

The case plays out, and they finally get to a solution, or as much of one as they are going to arrive at under the circumstances. And that night, listening to Win’s quiet breathing beside him, Fred finally allows himself to think about what Endeavour had said at the end.

I was always the last to be chosen. The one neither side wanted in the team.

Followed by his own growled response—I chose you.

And he wonders if that will make a difference to his bagman. Or if the scars from always being the last to be chosen have gone too deep to ever fully heal.

[madscientistshowdown]

Top 3 move onto main bracket

PROPAGANDA

Valentine:

Ninja nurse working for an even more evil scientist named Brain Drain. Partially responsible for turning Carol into the creature now known as Painwheel.

Zim:

Both a mad genius and a complete moron. Creates a time space object displacement device and accidentally replaces his own brain. Accidentally creates an explosion that explodes real slowly due to fusing with a time stasis field, and decides the best solution is to just speed up the explosion so it will explode and be gone forever (Thus blowing up the entire city).

Mojo Jojo:

Evil Monkey genius, Mojo is not only the most popular villain on the show, but one of the most popular villains and mad scientists in all of Cartoon Network

Rick Sanchez:

Nihilist, Drunkard, and smartest man in the universe. Literally made a tiny civilization in his ship, just so he doesn't have to worry about getting fuel. Also sometimes jumps universes and replaces alternate versions of himself in order to avoid the responsibilities of his actions.

Davros:

Dude literally genetically engineered the Daleks, the series main antagonists. He's basically an alien Dr. Mengele.

Victoria Van Gale:

She's a meteorologist who turned out to be a crazy insane mad scientist/inventor who used living baby clouds (or baby weather spirits) as a way to control the weather. Later on she created her own artificial Nisse to find a way to the Nowhere Space, a place restricted for Nisse, for girlboss reasons idk, and gaslit gatekept girlbossed three kids (two of which were present in the baby weather spirit incident and already had their trust broken by her, although to be fair David had a lot of suspicions she was up to no good here too) to find a way there. She then proceeded to enter the fairy realm (entirely by accident), and she made a deal with the Fairy Entity to stay there forever so she could proclaim herself as the new governor of the newly discovered "Vangalia". Also her name sounds kinda like a homage to THE mad scientist in fiction history (idk whether or not it was intentional but cool nonetheless)

Andonuts:

he abandons his little gay son to make stupid machines, although I suppose he does help save the world….

Mastermind:

Mastermind experimented on RainWings (a.k.a. a race of dragons) in order for his tribe to attack them (and genocide them) and take their home in order for his tribe to no longer live in a awful place where the air is coated with ash, there’s barely any food and is horrendously affecting his tribe’s health. So yeah, pretty fucked up. Also he loves science and literature ❤️

[multifandomexpialidocious]

The subtext of hunger, agriculture, food crisis vis-a-vis scapegoating and “othering” in Wicked

I just watched the WICKED movie the other day. This is my second night after having watched that movie. I’ve read the book, watched the musical, and now, watched the movie. I am writing this immediately after I woke up after lucid dreaming, some themes and commentary hiding in plain sight having been made clear in my dream.

So.

Oz is a highly agricultural land. From the depiction of a largely agrarian society in Munchkinland to the triggering events that shape its society, this much is clear.

Right off the bat, in the movie, Dr. Dillamond attributes the scapegoating of the Animals to the Great Drought, where the people, hungry and frustrated, wanted someone to blame. (As a side note, I am curious whether Madame Morrible is alive and already competent a sorceress during those times. I am don’t remember the dates, but come Oz suffers from Great Drought when there’s a weather-manipulating sorceress in the picture? This to me is suspicious in the same way Morrible’s hand in Nessa’s demise is, or will be.)

This already sets the precedent of the public consciousness being pliable to “other” sectors of society and deprive them of their rights, if it meant being able to get-over a real but complex societal problem like poverty and hunger. Sounds like Nazi Germany and today’s current climate, right? It does. The propensity for fascism exists within Oz’s culture.

Now this part may sound like a stretch, but I argue that there is subconscious reason why they sprang out of the creators’ imagination.

I’m not gonna talk about witches and their significance as an historically oppressed group and the metaphor of a witch as society’s constant attempts to snuff out women empowerment. Y’all already know that.

Obviously, the solution to a drought is water. And I cant help but remember how water is significant in the story. In the classical tale, Dorothy melts the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle by throwing a bucket of water at her. In the books, Elphaba is deathly allergic to water. This is not the case in the musical and movie, but she does take advantage of that ridiculous rumor and a bucket of water gets thrown at her. In the movie, and as I’ve seen many point out, during Elphaba’s iconic scene, storm clouds punctuate her rise to power. But Elphaba isn’t known to manipulate the weather. You know who is? Madame Morrible. Storm clouds and thunder are gather to literally make Elphaba appear villainous, fearsome, and menacing. Spoilers, but, Elphaba wasn’t able to see her political aspirations bear fruit. Going back to the drought imagery, Elphaba, a symbol of otherness herself exists as a figure that seeks to correct the undue scapegoating and political disenfranchisement that people chose to wrongfully resort to. They may wreathe her in stormclouds all they want, but as force of nature herself, her moral stance in all these injustice, her advocacy, is correct and righteous. She and everything she stands for water to the Ozian’s moral drought: clear, purifying, quenching. A path to wash away the sins of society and clean its conscience anew.

The resulting “othering”, scapegoating, and disenfranchisement of the Animals, of Elphaba, were not mere reactions to a harrowing social ill. The Great Drought and its direct effects (poverty and hunger) and the trauma it entrenched in collective Ozian consciousness were taken advantage of by political figures. Leaders people looked up to but were unable to solve the problem. So instead of taking accountability, they chose to shift it on others instead, employing propaganda. The “greenness” of Emerald City is an illusion of the Wizard, the phony spectacles masking the glaring inequality in its metropolitan affluence as opposed to the more agricultural provinces and distracting from holding leaders responsible to effect true and direct solutions. After all, if there were no problems, who would the people look up to? It is all a fake. This “greenness” is a fake to Elphaba’s real. It’s a “greenness” that co-opts and imposes conformity, calling one to willful blindness and perpetuating that same culture of division and disenfranchisement. A “greenness” that is not the same as and inevitably clashes with Elphaba’s own: a greenness forged by the same “othering”, stigma, and disenfranchisement but with a sense of self and a sense of justice to effect social change that would end the cycle.

[shiftingfawnnn]

Anybody else just feeling down lately? Like something foggy is clouding your mind?

I wouldn’t exactly call myself depressed, but it’s been slowly weighing down on my mind you know?

Like I wanna shift so badly but I just don’t wanna leave my family behind. But I wanna permashift, even though I know that it would come with its own set of problems I still wanna be there.

My family brings me immense joy, but they also bring me so much pain. The good memories don’t erase the bad ones, but the bad ones don’t erase the good ones.

That’s why I’m at a complete standstill, because I know at some point in my wr I would probably have the ability to get rid of my cr family’s memories of them and do it.

But I love them so much you know?

I don’t wanna leave them permanently, just for a few years. But even then, I’d be missing out on actually interacting with my family, I’d just be with my dr one.

I don’t know, I haven’t come up with any solutions yet and if I’m gonna be honest with myself I probably won’t for a very long time.

Just any advice? Anyone? Even if you don’t have any, I just wanna say thank you for reading this post.

Even if nobody else does, it helps me alleviate my stress. Just a little bit, so thank you .