#weighing the future

[blacklifescience]

"Genetic analysis is indeed increasingly being used as a catalyst for reconciliation - to restore lineage, families, and knowledge of the past to make political claims in the present."

(The Social Life of DNA: Race, Reparations, and Reconciliation After the Genome by Alondra Nelson)

Biocapitalism:

I found the term "biocapitalism" intriguing and wanted to learn a little more. It is a new market that focuses on biological matters. The biotechnology extracts biological materials, such as plasma, blood, sperm, eggs, and treats them as commodities in the economic system. (Valdez, p. 13, footnote 39)

[eliashirsch]

Drunk Iceman Is A Different Beast (2/3)

ice has a surprisingly (or maybe not) good voice. mav is so in love slider and goose are throwing up in the background

click here for part 1 // part 3

[mishacakes]

it’s Missing Them Hours (apocalypse flavored!!)

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[camels-pen]

fellow tumblr people! i have a very important question: does anyone know the ship name for zoro / usopp / nami? or if there even is a ship for them

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

tbh a big indicator shuro loves and trusts laios just as much as vice versa is in that harta magazine extra where shuros always on the outskirts of the old group but sitting next to laios at meal times. Now that I think of it in the chimera falin chapters, hes seen sitting away from everyone else when eating in the group shots but sits and eats w laios after their fight.

[cina-full-moon-xanadium]

on one hand i do like that kamen rider as a franchise has an entirely new setting and story and cast of characters year after year so that outside of the occasional fun crossover you can just jump into any series with no prior knowledge as if it's its own franchise but on the other hand is there LITERALLY any reason why for just one time we can't have a season that's a light sequel to a previous show and have a previous rider as a mentor type character and follow up on those themes and have them in conversation with each other

[ghcstlly]

― ❛ i need to confess ,

i told you a lie.  ❜

DAVIKA HOORNE ?  não! é apenas MAEVE GRACE CONSTANTINE, ela é filha de HIPNOS do chalé 20 e tem VINTE E OITO ANOS. a tv hefesto informa no guia de programação que ela está no NÍVEL III por estar no acampamento há TREZE ANOS, sabia? e se lá estiver certo, MAE é bastante BENEVOLENTE mas também dizem que ela é AMBICIOSA. mas você sabe como hefesto é, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência.

ABOUT.

Depois de um caso de uma noite com um estranho charmoso que lhe proporcionou o melhor sono de sua vida, sei thipaya pawityakul entrou em desespero ao se encontrar grávida e sem prospectos na vida. Com um emprego de salário mínimo para sobreviver em Nova York, e órfã, sem nenhuma família com quem contar , ela decidiu - rezar. Pela saúde de sua criança? Não, para que a prole que um erro criou se tornasse uma fonte de fortuna. Sem religião marcada, ela foi até as montanhas e às catedrais, pedindo para que esta pequena menina em seu ventre fosse de alguma forma especial ; que no futuro tivesse sucesso e dinheiro para cuidar das duas, e lhe pagar de volta por decidir trazê-la a este mundo. 

Apesar das preces serem em vão, alguém já tinha garantido que a filha de sei fosse ser diferente - o pai, deus hipnos, que acompanhou de longe o começo conturbado da vida de minnie ponthip pawityakul, como a mulher nomeou sua filha, significando luz , com toda a pressão de ser algo especial, de trazer lucro e a vergonha de ter de participar dos esquemas da própria mãe, que tinha decidido aplicar pequenos golpes para sustentar as duas. 

Porém, um dia - minnie provou-se valiosa. Começou pequeno, disse a mãe o resultado de um jogo do bicho depois de sonhar com o animal e até então, nada de diferente, era apenas a crença cega da mulher em coisas que não importavam. Contudo, os sonhos da pequena iriam se provar ser muito, muito importantes. Através dos sonhos, do sono natural e profundo, ela via partes do futuro. Com o tempo, foram de ganhar em jogos de azar para pequenos prêmios de loteria, e sei estava em êxtase - suas preces tinham sido ouvidas. 

No entanto, a felicidade da mais velha teve prazo de expiração - depois de um ataque de uma fúria , atraída pelo cheiro do poder como a mãe era atraída pelo cheiro do dinheiro, o pai divino voltou para vida das duas, ao lado de um sátiro, explicando a verdade e dizendo para que a menina de então doze anos fosse para o acampamento , onde estaria segura. 

Ao contrário de muitos semideuses que viria a conhecer, era grata pelo pai e sua intervenção pois a própria mãe tentou argumentar que ela era valiosa demais para ir embora - afinal como iria viver sem ela? Melhor, sem o lucro que ela trazia? Vencida pelo deus, minnie foi para a promessa de segurança sozinha, onde treinou acima de tudo seus poderes, e traída pelo descuido e exploração da mãe, se refez assim que possível longe dela. 

Atingiu o segundo nível e passou a viver partes dentro do acampamento e partes entre os mortais, voltando a ganhar prêmios em dinheiro, e investindo em ações, oque lhe acumulou uma considerável fortuna. O novo nome? Maeve. O capital? Avaliado em cento e oitenta e sete milhões. Era assim que vivia , sem jamais voltar aos braços gananciosos da mãe. 

Porém, não conseguia escapar das loucuras da genitora não importa onde fosse, ou quem fosse. Depois que a mulher envolveu um filho de Nike em um de seus golpes , agora infinitamente mais bem elaborados, a deusa da vitória não aceitou o insulto . Claro, a mais velha nunca viu a consequência de suas ações pois a deusa decidiu que se iria trazer ruína a um de seus filhos, ela traria ruína para a filha dela. 

Assim, recebeu uma maldição - sonhos ambíguos. Continuava a sonhar com os resultados de seus investimentos, mas eram visões turvas e de muitos possíveis fins ; em sua maioria, acabavam em finais tristes. glória, ruína, nunca sabia como iria terminar e com a sorte se esvaindo, fez as escolhas erradas e perdeu quase tudo. Antes de atingir o fundo do poço, voltou ao acampamento em busca de ajuda - claro, não doía que ali a maioria das coisas eram de graça. Apenas não contava com a nova profecia e sua prisão, talvez não temporária naquele lugar. 

PODERES: precognição em sonhos.

HABILIDADES: força sobre-humana e reflexos sobre-humanos. 

ARMA: ’ exhuma ’ , uma espada yeoh do , com cabo de madeira e uma lâmina de ferro estígio, levemente curvada ao seu fim, é ótima para arrancar órgãos , e claro, mutilar monstros. quando em sua forma normal, se torna um colar de pedrarias escuras e um pingente de ferro, como um colar kemet. 

MALDIÇÃO OU BENÇÃO: Enfurecer uma deusa é estonteantemente fácil - mas não diga que eu falei isso - , e para causar a raiva de nike - faça um dos filhos dela perder ; foi o que me disseram. maeve aprendeu isso da pior maneira possível, depois que a mãe insultou a deusa , mexendo com uma de suas crias sem saber a extensão do perigo, ela pagou o preço. condenada a um sono perturbado , com muitas variáveis a serem levadas em conta, não conseguia ver o fim. depois do mal que a acometeu, por dias a fim , tentou não pregar os olhos - o que precisava talvez era apenas estar cansada o suficiente. chegou a beira da morte, até que foi levada para uma sala de emergência por um amigo onde recebeu sedativos e foi reidratada com iv . depois daquela terrível semana, encontrou novamente a mãe , que a disse sobre a visão profética que teve através da névoa - visão clara, mae finalmente percebeu - , onde a deusa dizia “trarei ruína a sua prole como trouxe a minha” . a garota quase não acreditava, a ganância da mãe tinha mais uma vez a feito vítima - estava amaldiçoada. depois disso, estava constantemente cansada e se arrastando pelos cantos, dormindo mais que o normal, mas nunca tendo sonhos premonitórios - apenas bagunças em uma mente que parecia ter sido preenchida por fumaça. era um sono profundo mas não puro, era irregular e com sonhos confusos, ambíguos que sempre a levavam para pior escolha . era obvio, sua sorte começou a desaparecer , sem suas previsões, não era nada nos negócios , afinal nunca realmente tinha sido preparada para aquilo. com péssimas decisões feitas, jogatina e negócios furados, se viu no ponto onde teve de vender a casa e os carros para adotar um apartamento estúdio em nove york. hoje, de volta ao acampamento, ela permanece um fantasma andando, com raros picos de irritabilidade e agressão, culpando o mundo por tudo que perdeu. os sonhos não param, mas seu poder foi bloqueado, não era mais certo dizer que ela sabia o futuro. o poder que nutriu e treinou por tanto tempo, sua qualidade definidora tinha a aludido, e por enquanto lhe restava viver de graça para salvar o pouco que ainda tinha. claro, pensou ser um bom negócio até os ataques começarem. agora além de pobre, está em risco. maldições, e mães loucas, não é mesmo ? 

++

Praticante individual de parede de escalada , membro da equipe azul de esgrima e líder da equipe vermelha do clube da luta.

[excelsior9173]

so i have to take an english course at my uni to be eligible for nursing (not sure what being able to read or write dramas or poetry has to do with being a nurse but 🤷‍♀️) and i am lowkey panicking about it

not only do i need an english, i have to do well in it too. my grades from the 10 required “pre-professional” courses are what my admission to nursing hinges on

and i am the worst writer ever. i struggle to express myself with words and honestly if there’s no inspiration then i am unable to write anything. all of my previous university essays were written either by forcing myself through an excruciating process of “i hate this but have no other option to write about” or they were written in near-manic frenzies because i had too much to say about my chosen topic. there is no in between

i have a friend with an english degree who said she’d help me through it. but she’d be most useful if i take the dramas class, but not gonna lie i’m more intrigued by the narratives. just because it would mean studying books that i tend to gravitate towards when reading. still anxious as hell about the composition part though… i truly have no desire to be a writer in any capacity lol

[skeleton-squid-boy]

I love timelord victorious because you realise how relentless the last couple of seasons have been. every episode someone dies or someone gets left behind or he can't save them or he cant stop them save him. and you watch it slowly break him. then after Donna you see him give up a little bit more. give up that part of him that let's him take people with him. no one to keep him sane. no one for him to save even when he cant save anyone else. and then he goes to Mars and he's faced with more people he can't save. and he watches them do everything right. and he listens to them die. and he just finally breaks. and it makes sense.

[just-some-guy-joust]

hey scp fans. is there a way to like. ...read up on specific Characters/staff. i kind of don't want to read 5 different scp pages just to try to get a vague understanding of this character

[blacklifescience]

"Despite the substantial shifts in science and technology in the twenty-first century, lifestyle interventions applied in contemporary pregnancy trials have not fundamentally changed since the 1950s."

Weighing the Future, Natali Valdez, 2021, p18

Photo: Texas Tech University Press via https://slate.com/human-interest/2013/07/kay-goldmans-history-of-maternity-clothes-dressing-modern-maternity-reviewed.html

[broodparasitism]

'Archive fever' is a good term for today's delirium of documentation, which extends beyond institutions and professional historians to the Web's explosion of amateur archive creation. There is a feeling of frenzy to all this activity; it's like people are slinging stuff 'up there' - information, images, testimonials - in a mad-dash hurry before some mass shutdown causes all our brains to burn out simultaneously. Nothing is too trivial, too insignificant, to be discarded [...] The result, visible above all on the Internet, is that the archive degenerates into the anarchic: a barely navigable disorder of data-debris and memory-trash. For the archive to maintain any kind of integrity, it must sift and reject, consign some memories to oblivion. History must have a dustbin, or History will be a dustbin, a gigantic, sprawling garbage heap.

Mark Fisher, Capitalist Realism (abbreviated by Merlin Coverley, Hauntology)

[setaflow]

A friend is trying very hard to convince me to start donating plasma (he gets a referral bonus if he signs someone up) and ngl the idea of using it to pay for less important things like books and art commissions is appealing if only for the fact that I get to say "Yeah I'm paying for this with blood money"

[clingylilhoneybee]

Bleh

[thecampbellclub]

i need some drunk sad hughie on the edge of the gun after robins death for morale boost