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cultkinkcoven · 11 months ago

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I always found it strange that people try to use science as evidence that the Gods, or God, doesn’t exist. Partially because I very much consider science and math to be the languages of God but also that like,

our would is fucking magical, and insane. Call me loony but MAGNETS??? THATS MAGIC!!!!

Yes there’s a scientific explanation but I don’t think that makes it any less magical. Oh yeah all these electrons are pointing the same way so these magical metal rocks are intrinsically attracted to eachother. Oh and this works on a cosmic scale, yeah thank magnetism for your fucking atoms not flying apart at all times, thanks magical mystery force.

Oh yeah and information can be transferred through light, the fastest thing in the universe. Yea you can send music through a light. And bluetooth? No fuck not even just bluetooth, the entire concept of EM radiation in general. You’re telling me that one day they just tapped into radio waves and discovered there were a nearly infinite amount AND we can use them to communicate from across the GLOBE? And the higher you go the more or less you can do with them? HELLO? We can see the bones inside our bodies with X rays. We can use radio and microwaves to communicate, to see the fucking BEGINNING of the universe, to heat up a fucking piece of pizza in a box that would seem like a cosmic god to a medieval pilgrim. Never mind the INTERNET which is an invisible psychic link between all people which contains all the knowledge of all of humanity. And the fucking magical machines with mother boards that have strange symbols and circuits built into it? Hello? Is that not magic?

“that would mean a simple lightbulb is magic too” YEAH!!!??? HOW THE FUCK??? DOES ELECTRICITY FLOW THROUGH A SYSTEM AND WHY ???? DOES IT ?

We’re so fucking lucky electricity is predictable and that the laws of physics are mostly stable because ????!?!???!!!! it just happens to work out for us in this beautiful way!? OKAY!

The thing I love about Humanity is that someone always cares about and is mesmerized by the world. There’s people who have spent their entire lives fascinated by and studying rock formations. I always think it’s so cool to imagine that science is the language of the Gods because all of this shit so cool and hidden/difficult to discover that they almost needed to make dumb humans to appreciate it all.

Elements, chemistry, biology… My damn atoms look like solar systems!!! My veins are tree roots filled with lightning. My eyes are sand dunes. My brain is a mega computer. The entire earth cries and breathes and screams in frequencies I cannot understand. The oceans create the clouds, the creatures at the bottom of the sea create breathable air for every creature on land.

My body filters information through my senses. I enjoy listening to longitudinal waves with my ear holes, and I love looking at pretty waves of electromagnetic radiation with my eye holes.

DUDE THATS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT!!! DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON ALL THE ANIMALS EXPERIENCING ALL THESE WAVES AND VIBRATIONS IN DIFFERENT WAYS THAN ME WHATT!!!!!??? THE TREES TALK TO EACHOTHER?? AND LIGHT ACTS AS A WAVE OR A PARTICLE DEPENDING ON IF ITS BEING OBSERVED?????!!

and everything starts with movement, that’s all. Vibrations, patterns that evolve into greater patterns. Fractals, sacred geometry.

In my mind it doesn’t even matter if there is a God, if there is then hell yeah, this is the greatest thing ever created. If not then that’s even more INSANE and fantastical because all of this shit just happened. AND IM!!! HERE TO LOSE MY MIND ABOUT IT!!!! THATS WILD AS FUCK and AWESOME in its own way!!!!!!

Gods I love the universe I love nature I love Humanity I love the macro verse and the micro verse and everything in between in this infinite mess of waves and vibrations. I think it’s perfect.

So, I'm not sure this is a unpopular opinion or not but here goes.

I believe in science and material fact. However I also believe that the gods are the ones who made science or set in motion the things in the universe that are considered science.

I dont see alot of people talking from this perspective, so I just wanted to know everyone's thoughts !

#paganism #deity worship #thoughts

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isagisyoichi · 4 years ago

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YOU MAKE ME FEEL SPECIAL!

SYNOPSIS: niko as your boyfriend

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: niko ikki aka my boyfriend hello

WARNINGS: swearing, pretend all the boys go to the same school and they're all friends for plot, normalize not writing serious boys as someone that practically hates their s/o and never opens up to them god bless, also no such thing as ooc since we dunno shit ab him so everything i say is law. SUPER LONG LOL, it's like 2k+ words 😭

A/N: i love my boyfriend and i'm v happy about all the attention he's getting (even if he will prob will b subbed out 👎) this was fun to write bc i think he would b very soft as bf and also i hate the notion that stoic and serious = boring and detached in a relationship. also first post w the new user yayyyy rip yoichisagis an end of an era for realsies.

FOR: fox anon my beloved this one is for u😩

it takes a while for you two to get together, just because niko wants to think things through and be sure he’s making the right decision, as well as him being naturally apprehensive about this whole dating thing.

when you do eventually start going out, keep in mind you're probably his first real anything, so-

niko needs to take it slow for the first month or so because he needs time to adjust and get used to being in a relationship.

when he gets comfortable around you, niko starts to talk a lot more.

niko starts to talk about his interests more-soccer, stem stuff (idc i'll die by my hc that he's a stem boy), etc. and niko's really happy that you're genuinely interested in what he has to say :)

and as your relationship progresses, niko becomes more inclined to share his inner thoughts.

“this song is so bad, i hate it and how it's everywhere,” like, babe that sucks, but what do you want me to do, take it off the radio myself? 😭

you find out that niko’s kind of a hater LOL, but it’s okay, because it means he can be himself around you <3 and the mini debates you have with each other are fun.

he’s someone you can take shopping with you if you need a solid second opinion.

“ikki, is this cute?” you niko as you adjust the shirt you tried on in the fitting room mirror.

“no.” he’s so straight up LOL. “the blue one from earlier was better.”

“this one?”

“yeah, that one. you look really pretty in it.”

ngl though, niko’s not much of a mall person. he'd just follow you around like a little puppy LOL, but he doesn't mind too much because it's for you.

communication is important to niko!!!!! he wants someone that he can have real conversation about the things that matter to him, so he rly makes an effort to have that kind of connection with you.

niko's naturally funny but he isn't aware that he is lol.

but when he does try, i feel like his humor comes in the form of sarcasm and dry wit. likes poking fun at you here and there with a lighthearted jab.

"you're so weird, y/n," is the most common one.

niko’s naturally closed off emotionally (male aquarius 😒) but i, personally, think he’d really try and push himself to be more open with you, especially if you expressed for him to do so </3

he'd be really appreciative of someone patient and understanding of the fact that he doesn't open up easily, though.

but eventually, you become the person closest to him- niko confides in you a lot, which he’s grateful for because he usually holds everything in.

not one for pda or other lovey-dovey things in public, other than the occasional holding of hands but behind closed doors, niko’s so soft around you, it’s like he’s a completely different person.

also, i feel like niko’s real handsy with you, i get the vibe he’s super touch starved 😭

although it does take him a while to get used to physical affection, once he has, niko cannot get enough. he’s always touching you when he has no real reason to.

(and because you're his first relationship, i feel like it’s just natural that niko’s going to be kind of clingy towards you.)

“you okay, ikki?” you ask as niko suddenly wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“mhm,” he mumbles. “just wanna be close to you.”

niko likes when you sit on his lap when he’s on his computer. you can have your arms wrapped around his neck, your head resting in the crook of his neck, or you could just be on your phone or whatever, it doesn’t matter, niko just likes you near him.

you guys don’t really talk to each other when you do this, aside from niko occasionally checking up on you and asking if you need anything from him.

but other than that, you guys just enjoy each other's touch in silence. it’s one of his favorite things to do with you.

however, if you start kissing him in the middle of whatever he’s doing and keep it up for long enough, niko will drop everything to make out with you right then and there (also one of his favorite things to do with you).

speaking of kissing- you kiss niko first.

niko would try to plan your guys first kiss out because he wants everything to be perfect.

but, he ends up taking forever to execute it because he keeps overthinking and you can only wait so long before kissing him, so you take matters into your own hands.

his kisses are sloppy and juvenile at the beginning, but he’s smart and learns quickly what you do and don’t like.

likes being kissed on his jaw and forehead the most :')

if the team ever happens to see niko kissing you, they're gonna be so annoying 😭

"yooo niko's making big moves ‼️" "my son's growing up on me!😩" "good job *pats on the back*" and niko is red all over as he drags you away from them, muttering about how childish and annoying they are 😭.

but, they're all very supportive of you guys, even if they're embarrassing as hell 🙄.

they even give niko relationship advice- which luckily, he doesn’t follow (most of the time), because, let’s be honest, if you're getting unsolicited dating tips from a bunch of teenage boys, it’s probably bad 😭.

you’re the only person niko shows his forehead to. just know that having the opportunity to see it means that niko trusts you more than anyone else :’)

repay his trust by kissing his forehead lovingly and showering him with compliments whenever you can !!!!!!!!!!

“y/n, why’re you so embarrassing,” niko says under his breath, blushing as you hold his face and litter soft kisses on his forehead, rambling about how cute he is.

always looks for you in the bleachers when he has a game and you’re always the first person he talks to after.

and the fact that you make an effort to come as often as you can means sooo much to him. definitely considers you to be his biggest fan.

real classy with nicknames- uses “my love/love,” and “darling,” the most.

his favorite petname from you is "pretty boy." gives him butterflies each time he hears it.

the first time you call him that, he's confused, but after you explain that being called pretty is basically the highest compliment a boy can receive, he gets all soft on you.

only uses instagram to like and comment on your pictures and that's it 😭.

comments stuff like “you're so pretty” and "beautiful," without any emojis because niko refuses to use them LOL.

remembers the compliments you give him! they help with his self esteem and i feel like he values your opinion a lot.

so, tell him all about how cute and smart and talented and hot and funny he is and how much you love him and he'll replay it in his head 24/7.

i think he prefers to be the big spoon, unless he's sad- then he really wants you to hold him.

niko gives me homebody vibes, so expect relaxed dates, but still nice, yk?

what i mean is niko's not gonna take you out to get gas station food and call it a day 😭 he's classier than that and he always puts in effort towards dates.

he always plans them ahead of time and takes into consideration what he thinks you'd enjoy. and he insists on paying 🤗.

but, niko always does something special for days like your birthday or an anniversary, like go somewhere fancy if you wanted to or buy a nice gift you've been eyeing for a while.

helps you with your schoolwork, 100%. most of the time niko tutors you because he wants you to actually learn the material, but if you're feeling lazy and just wanna get it over with, niko will just give you the answers.

this is a big deal because i love him and all but, niko gives me the vibe he's super stingy with his work 😭.

"this is the last time i'm going to just give you the answers, y/n." niko sighs out. "you have to start doing your homework by yourself."

niko's said that dozen of times but he's still giving you the answers free of charge. can you guys say #whipped 🤣?

LOL speaking of school, if you ever text him during class, i highly doubt that niko would entertain you 😭😭 (it's out of love, though)

y/n 💗: hiii baby imy 🥰

pretty boy: do your work, y/n.

y/n 💗: ALL I DID WAS SAY HI

pretty boy: pay attention.

y/n 💗: fine ur so lame 👎

pretty boy: whatever you say. i miss you too, by the way.

he likes to moves your hair out your face because he wants to see your pretty face better.

which is why you have to do the same with him 🥰!!!!!! makes him blush like crazy.

gets soooo soft when you post him or even take pictures of you and him together :') just the thought of you wanting to show him off makes him soooo happy.

he won't entertain you if you make a tiktok, though LOL. he's very stubborn in his belief that it's stupid.

just stands in the background with his arms crossed if you try to make him do a dance or something 😭 (he does think you look cute, though).

niko has such nice eyelashes but i doubt he's aware of it 'cause he's, y'know, a boy 🙄.

"my eyelashes are ... cute?" he questions. niko wasn't even aware that such a trivial thing like his eyelashes could be considered cute.

"yes, oh my god," you gush. "they're so long and nice, i wish mine were like that," you groan, examining yours through the camera of your phone.

"you're so weird, y/n," he says, a blush staining his cheeks. "your eyelashes are nicer," he mumbles as he kisses your forehead.

he's one of those people that prefers to be alone, but you're the exception. you know?

niko likes to keep to himself most of the time, but that whole thing doesn't apply to you, because he'd choose to be with you over being alone anytime :')

#THIS WAS SO LONG CHRKST #ilysmni i love you so much niko ikki #not a dating hc but i really thinkche has the kind of headphones that tsukki has 💀💀💀#niko ikki #niko ikki x reader #niko x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagine #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #niko ikki headcanons #niko ikki imagine #ikki niko #ikki niko x reader #bllk imagines

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hartsgold · 5 years ago

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𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨. 𝐕𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐨. 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫.

𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗. 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚊𝚗, 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚛𝚑𝚎𝚊, 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢.

i’ve been working as a researcher at the institute for four years now, and am familiar with most of our significant contracts and projects. most reach dead ends, predictably enough, as incidents of the supernatural, such as they are - and i always emphasize there are very few genuine cases - tend to resist easy conclusions. when an investigation has gone as far as it can, it is transferred to the archives.

now, the institute was founded in 1818, which means that the archive contains almost 200 years of case files at this point. combine that with the fact that most of the institute prefers the ivory tower of pure academia to the complicated work of dealing with statements or recent experiences and you have the recipe for an impeccably organized library and an absolute mess of an archive. this isn’t necessarily a problem - modern filing and indexing systems are a real wonder, and all it would need is a half-decent archivist to keep it in order. my predecessor was apparently not that archivist.

from where I am sitting, i can see thousands of files. many spread loosely around the place, others crushed into unmarked boxes. a few have dates on them or helpful labels such as 86-91 G/H. not only that, but most of these appear to be handwritten or produced on a typewriter with no accompanying digital or audio versions of any sort. in fact, i believe the first computer to ever enter this room is the laptop that i brought in today. more importantly, it seems as though little of the actual investigations have been stored in the archives, so the only thing in most of the files are the statements themselves.

it is going to take me a long, long time to organize this mess. i’ve managed to secure the services of several researchers to assist me. I plan to digitize the files as much as possible and record audio versions, though some will have to be on tape recorder, as my attempts to get them on my laptop have met with… significant audio distortions.

that’s probably enough time spent making my excuses for the state of this place, and i suppose we have to begin somewhere.

𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚊𝚗.

𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙨: photography / texture art / tma s01e01 blurb & transcription.

Hello! If you’re reading this, welcome to the hell that is The Seiros Archives. I’m hoping to make this as comprehensive a series translation as possible without integrating too many spoilers/telling the stories of characters that aren’t mine (save Sothis and Rhea, who seemed lore-mandatory additions). For example, I don’t have a character to fulfill [Gertrude/the past Archivist’s] position, simply because I can’t think of one and would prefer not to kill anyone off that might want to use this as an AU base. (Feel free to, btw! Just let me know/tag me in your verse thoughts, I’m so excited to read ‘em!)

Spoilers below. Additionally: please peruse the Wiki pages with caution. There’s a trigger list for TMA episodes/general content warnings located here.

Essentially:

The Seiros Archives is an institution that’s existed for two centuries, currently under the jurisdiction of one Rhea, who claims to have come into control of it within the last decade or so. Obviously, this is not true. Rhea’s been alive since the founding of this institute, as she had it built order to resurrect Sothis/The Beginning/The Beholding, [her mother].

Sothis is both a God and not. In TMA, Gods are also known as ‘The Entities’, or The Fears. They are described, on the wiki, as such:

The Entities are various aspects of an amorphous force of fear that exists next to reality. Their influence upon reality manifests as supernatural happenings - all supernatural phenomena in the world are simply extensions of them. These phenomena can take various forms such as people, animals, monsters, books, objects, or places.These entities do not simply feed off of our fear, rather they are our fears made manifest. “These things... these forces, they are our fear. Deep fears. Primordial. Always looking for ways to grow and spread.” Not all their actions inspire fear, they are simply a part of the process, a means to an end. (cont. This link includes a list of the Fears and should be read with caution, as there is some horror imagery, etc.)

In this verse, I’m going to conflate Sothis with The Eye, or The Ceaseless Watcher. She is an Entity of Fear manifested specifically as “being watched, exposed, followed, of having secrets known, but also the drive to know and understand, even if your discoveries might destroy you. Fear that you’re suffering for the sake of something watching.” I think her relationship with being able to control the flow of time and know results of the past and future translate well here. It’s terrifying to consider someone who Knows what might happen in the far future can directly alter it as well.

Let’s say that Sothis’ “death” in this verse was a failed “Ritual” of The Eye. Centuries ago, Rhea attempted to bring her mother’s Entity to full power above all the others.

Rituals are ceremonies held in order to empower The Entities. “Most entities have their own ‘ritual’, a symbolic act that, if completed, will allow the entity to merge with reality, changing the fabric of the world as it exert its will and nature upon reality. These rituals have the potential to bring other closely-tied entities along with it. It requires centuries for each Entity to build up the power needed for its ritual, and if it is stopped, it cannot try again until it rebuilds that power base. No ritual has ever succeeded” (x).

When Rhea’s Ritual for The Eye was thwarted, the Entity lost a great sum of its garnered power. I imagine she was an Avatar of the fear, and her connection with her mother was severed to an extent. As a result, she began to construct the Seiros Institute as a means of rebuilding power for the sake of The Eye.

Avatars are essentially vessels for spreading the influence of The Entities. “Some humans can become attached to an Entity and become empowered by it, gaining supernatural abilities related to their patron, but losing some or all of their humanity in the process. Most people fall to the powers through love or fear, though it can happen for other reasons such as debt. Avatars and agents of a power retain their agency but can become physically dependent on it, suffering withdrawal effects, including death, if they go too long without feeding the entity that empowers them” (x).

People influenced by, or who encounter Avatars are often Marked by them, and other Entities alongside their Avatars can sense this fact.

In building The Seiros Institute, Rhea hopes to give Sothis enough power through a ritual to “merge with reality”/live again/to be able to communicate with her once more.

The former hired Archivist stopped countless Rituals of The Entities, and was eventually killed as a result of attempting to quell Rhea’s efforts.

There are tunnels underneath the institute in canon, which I’m going to say is the equivalent of the Holy Tomb.

Characters, once employed by The Institute, are unable to quit/be fired. Literally. This is a canon mechanic, where they can’t even say the words.

TL;DR: This is set in a modern Fódlan. I imagine it as something of a large city interconnected with several other neighboring states, such as Almyra, Brigid, Dagda, etc.

Are there tense relations between these places? Of course! Is The Empire probably allied with a different Entity and is aggravated that Rhea is doing what she’s doing? Very likely! Are Those Who Slither In The Dark likely allied with one as well, or are experimenting on people in the attempt to complete a Ritual? Why Not!

The Entities create very viciously real manifestations of their respective fears, so people have supernatural encounters of all kinds. Vampires––weird lore, but yes. People being replaced by doppelgängers––Oh, Yeah. Circus people who steal voice boxes and dance around with mannequin limbs? Uh huh. Worms? Don’t forget the worms. As weird as you can think of it!

So this modern Fódlan is rife with the eccentric and the supernatural. At the moment, The Seiros Institute is simply an academic place set on recording and understanding those supernatural occurrences!

I’m setting Khalid as the current archivist because he seems the appropriate “linchpin” figure that Jon is in the main series, having been marked by several Entities. As the most knowledge and balance-hungry of the Three Lords, he fits the part. Obviously there’s something to be said of Byleth’s potential role as an Archivist, but the Archivist does a lot of talking, much like Khalid. He also interacts with everyone giving statements to the Archive, and I think Khalid’s canonical tendency to disarm others in exchange for secrets and stories is par for this course.

Nonetheless, if you do want to use this AU as a base for your Byleth or any other character, please don’t feel restricted by anything!

Whether your characters are employed by the Archive, is an Avatar for a Fear, or is simply terrified by whatever the fuck is going on here, please feel free to get in on this! Write it with me! Ask me any questions you might have and I’ll do my best to spoil myself on this wonderful podcast further so I can answer you to the best of my ability! [I’m about 75 episodes in right now, but am content to spoil myself, truly...] So please hit me up anytime. I’m really excited about this and would love to plot things out with you!

#❛ ・ﾟ the watcher’s crown and king — tma. ✧#feel free to reblog!#what have i done.

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zeravmeta · 6 years ago

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“…Communications have been lost. I’m sorry, Master, but we are stranded in this strange new territory.”

Gudako was used to having the odds against her, but this time felt more desperate. Almost wrong, somehow. It would be one thing to simply just not be able contact Chaldea; it’s definitely happened before and the nagging voice in the back of her head tells her it will in the future as well.

It would be a second, more annoying thing if their current location was unknown: the Rayshift System was at whim to whatever Panhuman History or the Lostbelts decided to do out of nowhere and Da Vinci had even warned her that the Alien Gods reach was unknown and to prepare for the worst because they could very well drop them in the middle of nowhere.

The third and most troublesome thing about this was that the previous two conditions had been met but within what was possibly another universe entirely.

Gudako was beginning to regret getting out of bed this morning.

“Master….I’m sorry…If I wasn’t here then maybe…” Abigail whispered sadly as she held her torso, hiding her face.

“Oh come on, tears are unfair! You know I’m weak to your widdle cutie-pie face!” Gudako said as she leaned down to pinch her cheeks, trying to lighten the mood. Sure, maybe telling the eldritch horror within the 12 year old whose emotions could influence a reality bending god that they could be her appetizer in a ratty sushi restaurant wasn’t the best of ideas, but who cares. Her life was already one chaotic mess so another spill in an ocean of madness wouldn’t matter.

What does matter however is figuring out where the hell they are.

“Alright everyone, form up! We need to weigh our options and try to find out where we are.” Gudako rounded up her servants.

Babbage, Edmond, Abigail, Danzou, Mecha Eli-Chan, and Hijikata. Not exactly the most balanced composition in her opinion but there were worse options.

“Master, I’ve run a quick perimeter check of the area: wherever we are is completely made of metal. There’s no wildlife, running water, anything. I couldn’t even sense any wind currents here which makes me wonder how you can even breathe with no atmosphere.” Danzou reported.

“I believe we have the young Mash Kyrielight to thank for that. My readings do indicate an existing oxygen level, albeit low. Such things wouldn’t affect Servants, so we haven’t noticed it ourselves, but it is very possible that Mash’s class skill as a Shielder apply even for conditions such as these.” Babbage added.

“It’s strange,” Edmond began, “But I cannot ‘escape’ from this place. We haven’t been confined to a cage, it’s almost like…we are off-world somehow.”

“Off-world? Like, not on Earth anymore?” Gudako couldn’t help but feel shocked at this revelation. They’d gone to so many places in the past but an alien world was something entirely new. She felt Abigail’s fists tighten on her skirt and placed a reassuring hand on them, squeezing them gently.

“It is strange, but I also agree with the ratty convict.” Mecha Eli expanded, ignoring Edmond’s sputtering. “Servants are connected to the Throne, which is situated on Earth. Concepts like Humanity’s collective unconscious, the Root, they’re all unique to Earth itself, and we as Servants are affected by and can sense that. It feels…out of place. Like the Earth is nearby and yet, not really?”

A loud grunt drew their attention to Hijikata, who was looking up into the sky.

“That answer your questions?”

Seeing Earth in the sky as if it was a moon certainly did not answer their questions. And made them panic, naturally.

“This is…troubling. Though there are records that indicate our moon may be or have been some type of computer, there’s nothing on a planetoid of this composition orbiting Earth.”

“Babbage, do you have any way to re-establish contact? Even if she’s fine now there’s no telling how the distance from Mash may affect our Master. She could be running on borrowed time.”

“Master could die?”

“No! No one is dying today, Abbey. None of this is your fault, alright?”

“Do not worry. After all, among our group, you aren’t the only one who can break the laws of physics at a whim. It’s just as likely that that chronic smoker is responsible for this.”

“Just what is your problem with me today?”

“Can we please-”

“WOULD ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!? WE HAVE MORE IMPORTANT ISSUES!” Hijikata boomed, drawing their attention.

“Wh-What’s happening!?” Gudako snapped at attention.

“For the love of- Listen!” He placed a hand over her mouth and glared at the others to do the same.

…Very distantly, they heard the sound of shouting, metal scraping and weapons being fired.

“Wherever we are, we aren’t alone.” Hijikata stood ready to attack. “Master, your orders?”

The familiar fear of the unknown made itself known to her once again as it had many times before, and like always she pushed it down.

“Danzou, scout ahead and find a suitable meeting spot. Babbage, assist her. The rest of us will follow behind and meet you there. Whatever you find, do not engage.”

“Acknowledged.”

Gudako saw her disappear in a blur, with Babbage flying behind her. Sighing, she began her trek with her Servants following.

The scene before them was…new, to say the least. Even with all her adventures pitting her against all manner of enemies, she never expected to be taking fire from giant alien robots. They had met up as planned, but when they arrived, Danzou and Babbage were under heavy fire from a large gray robot with an arm cannon. They were situated near a cliff side.

“From what I gather, we are indeed off world, though they refuse to say where we are and simply reference Earth. Apparently, these beings seem to want to drain the Earth of it’s various natural resources in order to assimilate it into their own planet.” Danzou explained as she kept sending pressurized air blasts from her arm into the opposition. “There seems to be some type of schism with these robots, however. While this group is indeed trying to kill us, they made mention of others who protect humans.”

“Apologies, Master. It appears they had some type of censor that tracked us here as far back as when we initially arrived. For now, let us eliminate them!” Babbage exclaimed before jumping back into the fray.

Gudako took in the sight before her. To her side was Danzou offering ranged support and Abigail using her powers to make sure none of the robots got too close. Babbage was currently in a fierce duel with the gray arm cannon robot who towered over him and kept exclaiming something about absolute victory. It tried to pin Babbage down and shoot him but a bash from Babbage’s club held him back. It then summoned a glowing purple flail to try and smash Babbage before an intervening rocket punch from MechaEli knocked it aside, leaving them 2 on 1.

On the other side of the battlefield, Hijikata and Edmond were a whirlwind of fire, lightning, and laughter, knocking over the robots as they tried to mob them. Gudako kept hearing their screams and confusion as to how these humans were so powerful and couldn’t help but empathize with them: Servants were unfairly strong sometimes.

“This is pointless…Let us retreat!” A nasally robotic voice broke out of the group before jumping into the air and flying off, taking potshots at their group. Shortly, a few others followed.

The gray robots scratchy voice broke out as it knocked over Babbage and Mecha Eli. “You cowards! You dare abandon your leader!?” It turned to the group and regarded them with a scowl.

“Enjoy your victory while you can, humans. Soon I will figure out the secret behind your strength, and then I will conquer the universe!”

Hijikata and Edmond ran over and tried to rush the robot, but it punched the ground and made a large chasm separating them. Despite their speed, they wouldn’t make it in time to get to her.

“A little going away present! I’m sure our enemies will LOVE to see this!” The robot exclaimed one final time and began shooting at the cliff side near them while flying off.

“Master, get back!” Abigail exclaimed as she summoned more tentacles to catch and divert the metal chunks as they fell. Danzou had suffered a shot and was missing an arm, meaning she could only barely support herself, leaving Gudako to support her.

“Master, please leave me behind-”

“Are we seriously gonna go through this song and dance? Let’s just hurry!” Gudako shouted over the racket of the avalanche as she carried Danzou.

A large crash suddenly sounded out, and she looked up to see a large gray gun transform back into the gray robot before flying off. Its shot hit true and sent a large metal chunk their way, casting an ominous shadow over them.

They would have been crushed, but they were picked up by…a yellow mini car? Gudako and Danzou were standing one moment and riding this car the next.

“Are you two alright!? Your metal friend out there took some major damage, though it’s not anything Ratchet can’t fix!” The….car seemed to reassure them?

“Umm…y-yeah, we’re fine.” Gudako tentatively responded. Ratchet?

“That’s good to hear! Teletraan picked up a cosmic rift and suddenly detected humans with strange energy signatures! You guys got some serious guts to take on Megatron and his group of Decepticons on your own, not to mention how ya sent him packing!”

Teletraan? Megatron? Decepticons? This got more confusing as it went on.

“Could…you explain what exactly is going on here? Me and my friends have no idea where we are or what’s happening.” She decided being frank may be best here.

“Don’t sweat it! I’ll take you to my leader! He’ll explain everything!” The car chimed in, speeding up and approaching a tall red and blue robot before morphing out of its car form and having her look up at it. Him.

He was a friendly looking robot with yellow accents and blue eyes. Gudako noted that the emblem on their chests were different than the robots they had been fighting.

“Master! Are you alright!?” Edmond had called out from behind, Hijikata, Abigail and Mecha-Eli following. Babbage was behind them as well, but heavily damaged with burn marks and a crushed arm, being supported by a taller robot with an ambulance design. Her servants rushed and formed a protective perimeter around her, glaring at the robot.

The tall red and blue robot looked at them closely…almost sadly. He then bent down gently to try and get them to eye level, despite still towering over them.

“Please, calm yourselves. My name is Optimus Prime. Are you all right? Bumblebee tells me you have no idea where you are or what’s happening. Though I assume you’re from another reality of sorts?” He spoke gently.

Gudako didn’t know why, but something about his voice felt…soothing. Like she was talking to a natural born leader.

“…Yeah. We’re from an organization called Chaldea, tasked with protecting Humanity and we travel through time and space to prevent people from messing up our history. Our Rayshift…messed up and we landed here. Where are we?”

Optimus looked contemplative for a second before nodding to himself. “You are on the planet Cybertron, which is in orbit of the planet Earth after Megatron teleported it here.”

Welp. That confirmed her worst fears. They were in another dimension with a second metal planet orbiting Earth full of transforming robots who either wanted to kill them or be as helpful as they possibly could. Though she would be lying if a small part of her mecha nerd heart wasn’t excited to be on a planet of fighting robots straight out of her dreams.

Her worry must have been present on her face because she felt a large metal hand try to ease itself on her shoulder and gently pat it. She didn’t have the heart to tell him it was painful.

“To see such a young hero fills my heart with both sadness and hope. However, for your help against the Decepticons today, let’s go back to our base. I’m sure we can figure out how to get you home. Autobots! Transform and roll out!” Optimus exclaimed before transforming into a large truck and carrying her and her friends in various vehicles.

She was right. She should not have gotten out of bed today.

#fgo #fate grand order #fanfic #crossover #transformers #gudako #guda #HERE IT IS MY LITTLE ONESHOT CROSSOVER #both series deal with multi dimensional and time travel so *side eyes*#this is g1 transformers post s1 but before the movie AND ignoring spike and sparkplig bc i do not care for them #g1 optimus is just....a dad #this will appeal to like 5 people #and i am 3 of them #readmore work on mobile challenge #zerav fanfic

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wishthefish916 · 6 years ago

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What Is Anti?

Holy fucking shit, I’ve literally had this saved as a draft on this site for MONTHS and just haven’t posted it out of spite, but if ever there was a call to action this is is. I published this theory a while ago, but I wasn’t completely happy with how I’d written it at the time so I took it down a few minutes later. I’d originally planned on never revisiting this again, but while developing a different theory which will probably be coming out soon, I was forced to revisit this work, so here we are. The science of Antisepticeye. What he is, where he came from and how to stop him. It’s a long one lads, so buckle the fuckle up.

If we’re ever gonna stop Anti, which is kinda the point of all this theorizing anyways, we have to know what exactly he is. To figure that out, we need to look into what effect he has on the world around him. Looking back at the ever expanding collection of Anti moments ((thank the heavens for his wiki and a whole lotta spare time)), the only thing that tied them all together is that the person in the webcam felt a sense of danger, be it from a jump scare or high suspense or even from hearing Anti’s name, the brain of the person who was recording sensed danger, which triggered a hormonal fight-or-flight response in their body in the moment Anti presents himself to us, and it’s usually preceded with a long gap in symptoms surfacing. What else do we know of that lies dormant for a long period of time before something triggers it to wake up which usually leads to chaos for whatever system it’s in? Jack A virus!

So what kind of virus is he? Well, in bigger videos like Say Goodbye and Kill JSE the person on the screen communicated that they felt physical effects of his presence, like nausea, aches, delirium and twitching and in some cases bleeding from the eyes. This tells me that if Anti is a virus he’s a biological one.

However I cannot ignore the biggest telltale sign of Anti showing up which is the game or webcam ((and sometimes the person)) glitching, audio disturbances, and corrupted html text((Zalgo)), which would tell me that he is a computer virus.

So lads, correct me if I’m wrong in saying that if Anti is indeed a virus, he wouldn’t be exclusively biological or the technological, but rather a biomechanical virus((I totally didn’t make up the term shush)).

Being made up of both biological and technological components mean infection could have happened just about anywhere. For the sake of clarity I’ll be breaking it up into biological and technological components as I’m fairly certain the two are symbiotically dependent on each other, considering the physical effects coincide almost completely with the technological ones.

If infection was controlled by the biological aspects, that would mean he was infected by contact with the virus. Either he touched it, breathed it in, ate or drank it, kissed it, or bled on it. For all the other egos who’ve been infected, this makes perfect sense. JJ cutting his finger right before the glitching shows up, Henrik almost never wearing his surgical mask when handling his infected patients, Chase heavily drinking in the moments leading up to Dark Silence, but Jack is a different story. The first time we saw Anti was in FNAF Sister Location, and that video had none of the above in it. That tells me he was infected well before he first showed himself, which makes sense logically. People don’t show flu symptoms as soon as they come into contact with the flu virus. It has to fester for a little bit before showing any symptoms, so why should Anti be any different?

So where did Jack get infected? If he did physically come into contact with the virus, it would have been in a live action video. From a storytelling perspective, it wouldn’t make sense to not showcase an important plot point clearly, and live action is the best medium to do such. That brought me to the 2015 pumpkin carving video, but nothing too suspicious happened. There was no bleeding, he didn’t eat anything, while he did kiss the pumpkin no bodily fluids were exchanged, and breathing it in or touching it seems implausible, because it would mean the virus already existed in his house, which means he would have been infected long before that video.

The only other live action videos he’s done, and correct me if I’m wrong, were the 700,000 subscriber ghost pepper challenge, the ALS Ice bucket challenge, and his regular vlogs. Sean is incredible at blurring the line between normal video and ego video, but these videos all had an underlying sincerity to them, where he was trying to communicate to us his appreciation or with the ALS video trying to get us to donate to charity, and I find it highly improbable for him to try and undermine the meaning behind them with an ego clue.

That leads me to believe that it were the technological aspects of the virus that infected him, and that’s where things get kinda tricky. Now, computer viruses are actually relatively easy to come into contact with, the problem definitely isn’t there. Maybe Jack was sent it in an email, maybe he went to a sketchy website, maybe he downloaded a game that had a little something extra up it’s sleeve. No biggie, it happens. The logic leap is when the computer virus starts affecting his real life person, even when he’s not using the computer, a la Say Goodbye.

I believe immersion is the answer. Immersion in game play is something a large portion of game developers strive for, making the player feel like they were actually inside their game. This is one of the hardest and most important things a story driven game developer can do, and also one of Jack’s key defining features in games he tends to really enjoy.

I think, in the story that Sean has created for us with the egos, when Jack is doing a lets play and he gets really immersed in the game, he actually does exist inside that game. That feeling of total immersion, those moments when his brain is unable to separate the game from reality, they happen because of him actually being inside the game on his computer. If Jack were to download a game that had Anti’s virus on it, and then became immersed in the game play experience long enough to come into contact with said virus, it’s entirely possible that the virus stayed with him when he left the game/no longer was immersed.

Well, if we’re going to find out how to cure the thing, we’ve first got to find the location of patient zero, i.e. the video that started it all. If we know where it came from, we’ll know how it works and that’ll make it immensely easier to stop it. Are there any games out there that Jack played that 1) truly immersed him as a player into it’s world, 2) share a strong resemblance to what we already see in Anti, and 3) was uploaded some time before the release of Sister Location. There are two bigguns that spring to mind.

Undertale is probably the most well known and well liked series on Jack’s entire channel. While he was playing he became heavily invested in each of the characters, even the baddies, and so did we. We grew to care for them all as if they were our closest friends. When they were hurt, we screamed in protest. When they were comforted, we felt all warm and fuzzy. When we reached the true ending, we all cried. I would most certainly consider that immersion, wouldn’t you?

Not only did Undertale immerse the player and viewer, it messed with your actual computer files. If you do a genocide route even once, uninstalling and reinstalling the game won’t wipe it’s memory of the route. You have to dig through your computer to find and delete the file that tells steam what route you chose if you want to play the game brand new again. Not to mention the game frequently closing itself unprompted, which has a well known history for corrupting recording footage. Potential for corruption? Check.

New paragraph for new point because oh my god, there’s a lot. Several people have already pointed out the similarities between Flowey and Anti, but just in case you haven’t seen it yet or wanted a nice recap, here we go.The voice acting Jack chose for Flowey sounds just like a higher pitched Anti voice. This was the first time he ever layered audio files to achieve a more sinister voice effect. The thumbnails following his fight with Flowey all hold trademark characteristics of Anti video thumbnails. Our first ever interaction with him ends with him attempting to murder Jack. Their laughs are one in the same. At certain points in the game, you can find Flowey following you, keeping an eye on things, if you will. His boss fight, oh my g o d. He kills the dude in charge, everything cuts to black, and next thing we know there’s a glitchy face laughing at us through a screen, telling us about how he’s the one in charge and how this is his world and how everything he’s done was all our faults, after which his eyes turn red and green and he starts puppeteering controlling six different souls, using their different skills to his own personal advantage so he can fulfill some unspoken objective. Gee, sound familiar?

However, despite all of this, Undertale was not patient zero. Why I still listed all the game’s similarities despite this, I promise was not to waste your time, I’m getting to that. There was a game that came just before this one, the first of it’s kind, the actual patient zero. That game, is The Visitor.

Many of you may not remember this game, but The Visitor (and The Visitor Returns) was a little flash game that was posted way back on March 1st, 2015, and you played as an alien creature that came to Earth on a meteorite who’s only objective was to kill any creature it came into contact with to gain it’s powers. It was a video that kind of took the channel by storm, landing it’s place as the fifth most watched video on Jack’s channel even though nobody really knew how. This was patient zero.

As for the checklist? It was posted March 1st, 2015, a full year and seven months before Sister Location. Jack is certainly immersed in the gameplay, so much so he forgets about the menu screen and accidentally restarts the game in an attempt to do more stuff. Does it show a similarity to what we already see in Anti? More than you’d see at first glance. Yes, his mouse is kind of glitching through the entire video. Yes, his webcam goes dark for a single frame towards the five minute mark. Yes, there’s multiple severe neck wounds throughout the game. But that’s not what sold me on this. It’s the premise of the game itself.

I was struggling for months trying to figure out which game was patient zero. I jumped between Undertale, Fran Bow, Vee is Calling, and even the other Five Nights At Freddy’s videos more times than I could count, because all of them seemed like plausible answers. Fran Bow was the first series ever to adopt Anti’s traditional thumbnails, with lens flares and glowing eyes and blood everywhere(seriously, I took a good ten minutes and scrolled through every single video on his channel and Fran Bow was where it all started), not to mention a dark shadow creature who feeds on suffering being the main antagonist. Vee is Calling had an actual virus as a main character who actually glitches out and actually takes control of the main character’s in game computer. One of the glitches in SIster Location #1 showed a frame from the first ever FNAF game, and many of the sounds were pulled from the series at different points. I’ve already written paragraphs about Undertale. All of these things show a direct tie to Anti.

Then remember what The Visitor is all about. It’s an alien who kills things around him to gain it’s powers. It takes aspects from each creature it comes into contact with and uses them for his own personal gain. That seems to be exactly what Anti has done ever since we’ve known him as a physical entity on the channel rather than an idea with a name.

I mean, look back at May 2k18. Every single skit, either ego themed or not, was pulled directly from whatever the game he played was about. Hell, just look at the egos! I’ve talked about this before, but in every single ego video, there is always a theme of character decay, where the person they were at the start of the video erodes away leaving nothing but a shell of who they were by the end, and this is especially apparent in their debut. JBM, the courageous hero giving into cowardice. Marvin the Magician, throwing away his career. Henrik the wise doctor, killing his patients and forgetting a comedic amount about human nature. Chase the bubbly dad, pulling a gun on himself. JJ the mute actor, cutting his finger and immediately getting possessed. I’d tied them back to Anti before, but I never really knew why. In hindsight, this was clearly Anti’s attempt at stealing their strengths. Each and every one of them had some advantage that Anti wanted, and their slow decay was evidence of Anti trying to take control so he could have it. That’s why each new video showed him getting stronger, going from making them kind of afraid to full on suicide and possession. He was stronger because he’d taken more attributes and was able to use them more effectively with each passing video. For each game that Sean got immersed in that fit his agenda, Anti adopted different aspects for himself. There is no one video where Anti came from because he came from every video.

Okay. Alien biomechanical virus. How do we treat it? Well, that is heavily reliant on it’s sources. Anti adopted both some benefits and some defects from every game he pulled from. He gained both strengths and weaknesses, so if you want to “beat” him, the answer would lie in those games. The Visitor had no happy ending. Fran Bow won by giving up on reality and living with tree people, a demon, and an oversized axolotl. Undertale got a good ending by befriending everyone including the bad guys and hopefully not dying too much in the process. FNAF was finished by getting fired or burning everything to the ground and praying you’re not sent to purgatory. Vee is Calling was saved by focusing on your love life more than your computer files. Maybe it’s one of those answers. Maybe it’s all of them. Maybe it’s none of them. It seems not even Sean knows the answer to that question, but now we have a great place to start looking.

I wasn’t able to attend PAX, which means I didn’t know about the Anti “hint” until just now. When I heard it I wanted to scream, I think I actually might have, because I’ve been sitting on this work for literal months and just not gotten around to posting it. “We still haven’t figured out what Anti is yet.”

So, @therealjacksepticeye, are my answers to your satisfaction?

#therealjacksepticeye #jacksepticeye #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #dr henrik von schneeplestein #Dr Schneeplestein #antisepticeye #anti theory #jse theory #chase brody #jameson jackson #dapper jack #pax east #wish speaks

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sunflowervinyls · 7 years ago

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Da Vinci and the Genius

Pairing: peter parker x art student!reader

Summary: an event Peter normally dreads doesn’t seem so awful after he meets you

Word Count: 1.68k

Warnings: nope

A/N: this is one of my first oneshots so bear with me :)

~~~

Peter Parker is a genius. Everyone knows it, even he knows it. He can solve an equation in half a second and build a computer from scratch, just referencing his mind. But Peter Parker cannot paint in any way. Even the word ‘paint’ makes him cringe. He wishes he was even a little bit artistic but any art he creates looks as if it were drawn by a monkey using its foot.

You are the complete opposite. You could make anything into art. A used tissue? You could put it on a canvas and suddenly it’s art. Although, being incredibly creative does come with the downside of lacking in things like physics and computer science. Science has never been your strong suit though you so badly wish it was.

Though one thing that you had in common was the mutual hate for ISE, inter-school engagement. A program that was meant to mix students from several advanced schools of different genres. Having a school filled with mini Einsteins could only go so far when many of them lacked communication skills, and the same goes for a school filled with mini Van Goghs who couldn’t lift their pencils from their sketchbooks.

Luckily, this specific mandatory meeting took place at Midtown, and Peter found himself a nice quiet science lab to hide out in. As Ned called in “sick” today, he sits alone at a table, his chemistry textbook opened in front of him. Anytime he was forced to go to a ISE meeting, he found himself sitting alone or with Ned for as long as possible. Peter is not a grump, in fact, some would say that he can be annoyingly happy, but anyone who could see him now would assume the exact opposite. After school time's meant to be reserved for spider-manning around, so the idea of being pent up in a school with strangers sounded dreadful. That is until he saw you.

Confusion overcomes his face when you walked into the classroom with a group of others, your eyes are focused on the art in front of you. One arm holds the sketchbook while the other sketches at an angle, your eyebrows are scrunched together. He watches as your attention is so focused on the sketch that you run into a chair, making a loud screeching noise that lifts not only your head but quiets the conversation of the group you’d walked in with. Your eyes widen as you look around the room, embarrassment present on your face.

Peter watches as you close your sketchbook quickly, growing closer until you place all of your things on the table closest and sitting down with a huff. You hadn’t noticed that the table you’d sat at in a hurry was occupied, the occupant gawking at you from behind his chemistry textbook. Peter feels his ears get hot when you catch him staring, though when you send him a coy smile he smiles down at his lap.

“I’m y/n, from Manhattan Arts,” you reach out your hand for him to shake and he does so softly, trying his hardest to memorize the feel of your hand against his.

“I’m Peter Parker, Midtown Tech.”

“Oh, so you’re one of the baby geniuses that got into a smart kid school?” You ask with a smug smile, waiting for his reaction.

“I could have said that you’re a pretentious art student who eats paint for breakfast, but I didn’t,” Peter replies, closing his textbook softly, giving his full attention to you. You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head with a laugh, and Peter watches intently; He focuses on the creases around your eyes and curve of your lips.

“Although I don’t consider myself pretentious I won’t deny having tried paint one time or another,” you joke, though when Peter’s eyes widen you feel the need to clarify, “I’m joking, genius. I guess they weren’t kidding when they said Midtown kids aren’t funny.”

“Excuse me, Da Vinci? I’m hilarious,” Peter defends, mocking an offended expression.

“Right and I’m a scientist, you can say it as many times as you want, Pete, but that doesn’t mean it will come true,” you retort with a laugh. Though Peter doesn’t even recognize what you said, he’s too focused on the fact that you called him Pete. You’ve only just met and he’s already hung on your words.

“What,” you start, “no witty comeback?”

“Sorry, I just got distracted,” he tries to come up with an adequate excuse, though he draws a blank. You sigh, unwrapping your arms from the sketchbook they’re holding and placing it on the table in front of you. Peter watches in wonder as you flip through your sketchbook to find an empty page. His eyes try desperately to drink in any art he can find, completely awestruck by your talent.

“I draw lots of flowers,” you end the silence that was starting to grow, landing on a page filled with water colored sunflowers. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever seen so many different shades of yellow, but he’s glad he has now.

“That’s incredible, you’re amazing! Are sunflowers your favorite flowers?” Peter asks with a grin, believing he’s never seen such beautiful art, other than you of course.

“Thanks, Pete. I’d love to compliment your… science skills, but I haven’t seen them in action,” you joke and he laughs along, “sunflowers have always been my favorites, they represent everything I want to be, positive, strong, friendly… you get it.”

“I do,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders before reaching into his bag. He pulls out an apple and a bag of goldfish, plopping them on the table before looking up to you again. He opens the bag of goldfish softly, asking “want some?”

You nod your head slightly, taking a handful as Peter takes a mouthful of apple, trying to remain quiet as he chews. He succeeds at going unnoticed for a few minutes, or rather you succeed at ignoring him for a few minutes before you look up at him with raised eyebrows. He stops mid-chew, “what?”

“Nothing you just…” you pause, trying your hardest to find a way to tell him to shut up without telling him to shut up, “how’s that apple, Pete.”

“Well,” he takes another bite, letting the chunk move around in his mouth, “its obviously fresh though the taste is a little more bitter than normal. I think I may have bit into the sticker on accident, but did you know that the whole ‘fruit stickers are edible’ thing is a myth? Like sure you could eat them, but then you’d be digesting things like turpentine and petroleum-”

“Oh my god, Peter I wasn’t actually asking how the apple was! It was more like a ‘hey did you realize how loud you’re chewing?’ and now I have dumb facts about stickers! Stickers!” you exclaim, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes before gauging Peter’s reaction to your little outburst. Rather than crying as you would of, had he bashed your knowledge of Williamsburg Handmade Oil Paints, he laughs. He laughs so hard in fact, that he has to spit out the apple chunk he’d stuck in his mouth.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re annoyed?”

You pause, eyes wide as you hear something you’d never expect from a midtown kid. Obviously everyone has preconceived notions about the special schools. For instance, Midtown School of Science and Technology is filled with shy nerds who will end up like Bruce Banner, and Manhattan School of the Arts is filled with snobby creative kids who brush their teeth with paintbrushes, Bronx School of Physical Activities is just a school for dumb kids who are athletically gifted, so on and so forth. The line ‘has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re annoyed’ is something a kid from Midtown Tech would only dream of executing.

“Quite bold of you, baby genius. I’m surprised you had it in you.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Right,” you chuckle, watching Peter’s cocky presence slowly fade as the redness rushes to his cheeks. You allow a smile to consume your face, knowing you’ve shut him up. He stays quiet for a few minutes until he starts tapping his pencil on his text book. Truth be told, he was just taking advantage of the anxious tick to get your attention again. Something about your demeanor was exciting and he wanted to know so much more about you.

“Peter, you may not speak too much, but you sure are a loud person,” you taunt and he grins widely, knowing he got you.

“What can I say, I’m cursed with the ability to attract those who are easily annoyed,” he chastises, though you stay stoic.

“I’m not attracted to you.”

“Right,” he leans forward slightly, just enough to hide his phone displaying the google search for famous artists, “and I’m Michelangelo in disguise.”

“For a science nerd you know your art history,” you attempt to change the subject, though Peter’s not having it.

“I learn things for those who adore me,” he leans back again, folding his arms behind his head. You watch with curious eyes as he stares at you.

“You’re really, really annoying,” you roll your eyes, struggling to fight back a smile. He shrugs, watching intently as you reopen your sketchbook and begin a sketch. He tries to pry his eyes away but the way your eyebrows furrow and lips puff out with your focus is driving him insane.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He says quickly, afraid you’ll reject him. He can’t tell if you actually find him annoying or not, but judging by the smile that creeps onto your face you must be putting on a front. You keep your head down as a grin breaks out on your face, hiding your excitement out of embarrassment.

“Where to?” You respond, and his face mirrors yours.

“Delmar’s?” He suggests, hopeful you don’t live too far away.

“That sounds great, as long as you walk me home, baby genius.”

“That would be a dream, Da Vinci.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshot #avengers #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #avengers fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman one shot #spiderman oneshot #spiderman x reader #fanfic #oneshot #marvel one shot #marvel

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zarahjoyce · 6 years ago

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Touch Your Heart Fic: When She Walked In

Summary: “ Already he knew this was going to be the start of something horrendously disastrous.”

Notes: That’s right, I wrote a fic even before the show started. I’m that stoked. Obviously this is not how it will go down in the show, but if it does go like this I’m going to cackle into forever.

also posted at ao3!

Kwon Jung Rok should have really listened to his gut instinct and said a loud, resounding no when his superiors first brought the idea up. Except that saying no then would have been a monumentally erroneous decision on his part, particularly because he, like any in his position, would want to impress his superiors, not severely antagonize them. And since his bosses, too, were equally unable to say no themselves... well. Well. Now here he was, sitting behind his desk, waiting for the moment the personification of his bad commitment would walk in his office. He checked his watch; it was ten AM. Any minute now, then. Any moment now. At 10:15, he called his staff to ask if any one - any female someone - had come looking for him. After finding out that no one had, he slammed his phone down. He really, really despised people who had absolutely no regard for another's time and attention - which, apparently, unfortunately, included this particular guest of his. Well. Well. No matter, then. He had a mountain of paperwork to accomplish and had very little time to do them all, so Jung Rok turned to his computer, forcefully disregarding the uncomfortable hammering in his gut. It didn't take long for him to lose himself in his work. There was this particularly nasty lawsuit that demanded most of his attention; it involved members of a pedophile ring who, as it turned out, disguised themselves as respectable members of the community. The pieces of evidence were damning, to say the least, but due to who were involved, and, ultimately, who their connections in the government were, it would be difficult to prosecute them without incurring the wrath of very powerful and influential people. His own bosses told him to handle this with care, Jung Rok. He grimaced. Already he could feel a pounding headache about to make itself known. Which, of course, was the very moment he detected the faint sound of something clacking against his office floor. And before he could ponder on that, his office door burst open and in came-- --oh. That he was taken aback by who was inside his office this very instant could be considered a gross understatement. Because, at this very moment, Oh Yoon Seo, Korea's-- no, everyone's goddess - was actually, currently in his office. At the face of this inconceivable happenstance, he did what any normal, red-blooded man would do: He blinked. And cleared his throat. Kwon Jung Rok had expected her to be beautiful, with her small face and appealingly proportionate figure. He wasn't that much of a hermit not see her on television; he had some speck of a social life, for god's sake. But here, up close, with light coming from who knew where shining behind her, engulfing her in an effulgent glow-- Jung Rok blinked again, mentally waking himself up from this stupor. She stopped right before his desk. "Kwon Jung Rok?" she said, one eyebrow visibly raised from behind her colored sunglasses. She gave him a little wave. "I believe you were expecting me." Some sort of scuffle could be heard from his door. Glancing at it, Jung Rok could see that most - if not all - his staff could be found there, each trying to steal a glance at one of Korea's most aesthetically-pleasing creatures. In the flesh. He grimaced. Jung Rok glared at them before resolutely standing and closing the door on their faces. "Oh Yoon Seo," he said, some faint traces of his annoyance popping back now that he had won against his temporary state of senselessness, "Yes, I had been expecting you." A beat. "Three hours ago." Pointedly he glanced at the clock behind him, then at her. Oh Yoon Seo giggled. "Sorry," she said, sounding anything but. "I had some, ah, errands to run before I could come here." Jung Rok crossed his arms. "Are they more important than this opportunity, then?" She removed her sunglasses and pushed them up her head. "You tell me," Oh Yoon Seo said. She turned to look around his office, even running her hands through the very same case files he was earlier working on. "Am I going to learn anything from you? They told me you were the best of the best." She glanced at him, then. "Are you?" He could actually feel his hackles rising. "There must be a reason I was chosen to work with you," Jung Rok responded, fighting to keep himself calm despite-- well, this. "Let it be known to all that I never volunteered for this task. Now, if you are unconvinced with my record, then I will not stop you from walking out that door and choosing someone else. In fact, I advocate it." Oh Yoon Seo raised her chin up and said, "Why? Do you find me so alluring that you think I'm going to distract you from getting any work done?" Christ, what a conceited woman. "You were the one questioning my credentials earlier, Miss Oh. No one said anything about your--" He gestured at his own face before adding, "physical attributes." "Physical attributes," she repeated, before laughing out loud. "What a funny man. Do you really sound like that?" "Like what?" "A walking dictionary," she said, still looking amused. "You could have just said 'my beauty'." Oh Yoon Seo looked away. "Like everyone else." Counting to three silently, Jung Rok then said, "You will find that I am one hardly swayed by something as inconsequential as beauty. And if you will work for me, then I suggest you should start focusing on something deeper than that, as well." Here she crossed her arms and said, snappily, "Are you implying that I'm superficial?" "I cannot be faulted for whatever meaning you will construe from my words," he replied. Oh Yoon Seo glared at him. "I have depths, you know," she said. "I use them to channel my characters. Not that you would know anything about acting." The same could be said about her, Jung Rok thought, but didn't bother saying aloud. Wasn't remedying that the very reason she was here? He walked back to his desk. "I'm sure you do." "God, you're so--" She cleared her throat. "Whatever. You know what? A minute ago I was thinking about talking to my manager about firing you, but now I've changed my mind. I will work for you." Something in his gut told him that this was going to be a bad, bad thing. But then he said, "Then let's make things clear. You will abide by this office's rules, no matter how small or inconsequential to you they may be." "Done," she said decisively. Jung Rok turned to his case files. "Then I will see you here at promptly eight o'clock." Oh Yoon Seo exclaimed, "In the morning? But I'm--" He looked up at her impassively. She drew a deep breath and replied, all gritted teeth, "All right, fine. Eight it is." Oh Yoon Seo then offered her hand to him. With something akin to a challenge embedded in her words she told him bluntly, "I look forward to working with you, Kwon Jung Rok." He stared at that offered hand for a few seconds before standing and taking it. "We'll see about that, Oh Yoon Seo." Already he knew this was going to be the start of something horrendously disastrous.

#touch your heart #did i just write something what #cackling #kwon jung rok #oh yoon seo #lee dong wook #Yoo In Na #i'm sorry i can't help it

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withinthescripts · 7 years ago

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Season 3, Reel 2: August 13, 1953

[tape recorder turns on]

Amy, call Dr. Jefferson and get me an appointment on Thursday or Friday early morning.

Vivi and I found an injured cat and we’d like to get it fixed. Fixed meaning “spayed”, but I suppose also meaning “repaired”. See if Dr. Jefferson can repair and spay our new cat.

Also, pick up a square fabric about 30 x 30 centimeters, something orange, preferably patterned, an argyle or stencil print, as well as some dark thread, maroon or violet. Once you did that, fold the square into a bandana and embroider the name “Constance” onto the back part of the bandana. We named the cat Constance. Also Amy, can you print that name in script? In cursive where each letter elegantly sweeps onto the next. Don’t fret if you can’t do that, just do it in print, I guess. Thanks.

Letter from the office of Michael Witten on the 13th of August, 1953 to Ursula Lindholm, Director of Communications, Department of Global Trade, European office. Dear Director Lindholm. Thank you for your reply to my question about personnel restructuring. Your concerns about my “poking around” are valid, but rest assured that this is not an inquisition or a judgment, simply curiosity. Amy, don’t write “poking around”, say uh, say “inquiries”. Always mean what you say, but rarely say what you mean.

It is a brave new and unincorporated world out there, and we’re all doing our best to set about a new, less destructive course while implementing an entirely novel set of rules. If you and your office are finding success in reorganization, I certainly wanna know about it. We are not business, Director Lindholm, we are government. We are a truism, a monolith, many roots of the same tree. This is not competition, but collaboration. That being said, I apologize if I pressed too hard into your business and the goings on of your new Regional Director of Trade, Karen Roberts. Karen and I know each other peripherally through Global Secretary of Trade, Vishwathi Ramadoss, my direct supervisor.

Karen, I believe, testified against Secretary Ramadoss during preliminary hearings about domestic espionage in Vancouver last year, even though there were no fucking documents to suggest any of the allegations were true, Ursula, and even if they were, the things Secretary Ramadoss could have revealed about Karen, if there were any domestic spying on businesses, would have destroyed her career. Secretary Ramadoss was using computational machines to record basic data on commerce. It’s just numbers to help with global trade, which is Vishwathi Ramadoss’ fucking job over the whole fucking planet. So yeah, I’m a bit goddamned concerned about Karen Roberts.

Amy, obviously delete all of that, just cut it after the part where I said that I knew Karen. But seriously, Vishwathi was organizing data into charts about a birthplace, age, gender and known health records. The Pacific Northwest pissed themselves that Vishwathi was keeping notes on parents’ names. Oh, what if the citizens find out and try to reconnect with their parents? We don’t allow parents anymore – spare me, she only wrote down the parents’ names in cases where people were direct descendants of the last generation, so they’d already know. It was everything over nothing!

By the way, were you not able to find any of the files from our work in Vancouver? Where was I?

If my tone was aggressive, then I apologize. Ursula, it was not my intent, I would never wanna make a colleague feel less than on equal ground. As I understand it, Karen Roberts relocated the entire Western European Labor Department into the Communications Office. Congratulations on the increased resources! I hope you got a raise.

I wish there were a way to suggest this a joke. Ursula doesn’t seem to have any sense of humor. Her letter was what, two sentences? I’m surprised she didn’t carve it directly into a block of ice.

Amy, can you just draw a smilie face after my last comment? I’m not kidding.

But most of my questions went unanswered. Perhaps you’re pressed for time and if so, please let me know my best approach to Karen Roberts herself. She hasn’t returned my calls or letters. First, what is to become of regulatory protections for workers? The North and Baltic Seas are filled with fishing ships, there are mines and textile factories all over the continent. Who is protecting workers from abuse if the entire region has no labor department? You can’t build a society without a well treated work force.

Second, Karen Roberts owned the largest construction firm along the Gulf of Mexico. Upon taking a government job, did she sell her interests in KR Development, Inc.? Calls to her Houston office suggest to me she has not. This is a violation of the new society ethics bylaws for bureaucrats. If she still owns any part of KR while administering all of Europe’s trade, then this is in direct conflict with our new society’s core values for governmental leadership. This is not a threat, but a fact. Also, it is a threat.

Don’t write that part. Uh, no, write it but then draw another smilie face. That was definitely a joke, no threats in letters Amy, you know that.

I especially encourage you to look into the matter of weapons development along the old Mexican border. Karen’s factories were former arms manufacturing sites. Of course, KR Development now makes its business dismantling war machines for use in new, non-military construction. They have their slogan “swords to ploughshares”, of course. But in my working with Karen on previous North American reconstruction projects, there were persistent rumours that southern militias were being armed by weapons still being manufactured by KR. I have no physical evidence of this and I would never share it publicly, but the European people will not be happy if some journalist finds this proof. My North American people will certainly not be happy, which will make me even more unhappy, and Global Secretary of Trade Vishwathi Ramadoss will be the least happy of us all.

Of course, my staff member Amy Castillo was not able to dig up anything about current weapons production, and if she cannot find anything then I’m sure no one can. You didn’t, right Amy?

So perhaps we have no worries at all. I merely encourage you to do your own research into your new head of trade. Please keep me informed on this matter.

Finally, I was told someone from your office has shut down the production of a play called “Last Night We Were the Wind” at the Olympia in Dublin. I don’t mean to suggest that you are practicing censorship, but the account I heard had to do with the playwright Neve Connolly’s open critique of the new society, that your office found the play, quote, “grotesquely retrospect”. I understand that art can be disruptive and provocative, and we are all trying to build public and global confidence in our new society, but this is why a department of labor or culture exists, to work with artist to find the right message. Amy, underline “right”.

It should be a friendly discourse between government and author, not an indifferent one, as is the way with the “last” generation, nor as in this alleged case, an authoritarian one. Plus we’re only one year removed from the Removal of Nations Act, which forced England to finally cede imperial claims over Ireland, so I’m not sure a London office shutting down a play in Dublin goes over too well. There may be no more borders, but there are a fucking lot of feelings. A-amy, streamline that. Perhaps there were other problems related to labor or finances I’m unaware of, but please do enlighten me on the reasons for silencing a young artist.

Thank you for your time and input. Despite my uh pointed questions, please know that I’m only interested in learning more about what has been effective for your region. Life is nothing if not for learning.

Sincerely, Michael Witten, Director of et cetera et cetera.

[tape recorder turns off] [ads] [tape recorder turns on]

Amy, on second thought, if you can’t embroider a nice cursive script, please just find a tailor or something to teach you. I dunno, figure it out. I’m positive you can figure it out. I think you said you were learning pottery or woodworking? I should remember these things. It was something crafty, so you’ll pick this up in no time.

I hope you realize how much I appreciate your work, Amy. I’m aware that I can be abrupt, and I probably don’t acknowledge your efforts enough, but believe me, they are appreciated. When I worked as Head of the Midwest Region before I took this job, I knew the location of every file, every book, every paperclip in my office. I had to, I had a secretary oh god, Kevin Prince. He was dreadful. I had to edit every letter he transcribed, double check his document organization. I even listened in on some of the phone calls I told him to make. I liked how confident I was in every detail of what I did, but I got home at nine or ten PM most nights. Vivian was not happy eating alone. I felt like I was stacking teacups, each a different size every day, one on top of the other, each one taking more time than the last. Carefully looking at direction, curve, weight, keeping the center vertical… I knew it wouldn’t take long for it all to collapse. But then by miracle, I was selected to take over this office, and here you were.

And you’re everything Kevin was not. Organized and detailed, on time. My first boss at the Textile Distribution Center in Sioux City gave me only one rule: “if you receive an order, ship it.” It’s a deceptively difficult rule. I know almost no one including myself who can follow this 100 per cent of the time. If you receive an order, ship it.

I know we don’t work in shipping and fulfilment here, Amy, but everything I ask of you, you do immediately and effectively. I don’t know where anything is or how you have it all filed, but I’m home by six every night. And when I ask you to dig up old records on some project or meeting, I’ve got a tidy stack on my desk at the end of the day. Except Vancouver. I’m assuming those were lost or we just never had them?

I used to think leadership was managing every aspect of an underling’s work, but I realize leadership is quietly accepting that people will do everything correctly and allowing them to figure out when they’re wrong. Or you’re just really remarkable. Either way, Vivian appreciates you more than you know. We should have you over for dinner some night. We’ve worked together for how many years now? Why hasn’t this happened? Let’s make this happen.

Letter from of the office of Michael Witten on the 18th of August 1953 to Bernice Jones, Minister for Culture, North American region.

Dear Bernice, it was fantastic having you and Miguel for dinner this weekend. I always enjoy your company and Vivi and I truly loved the wine you brought. We never had a marble wine before. So crisp and smooth, but with a sweet nose, like someone eating a passion fruit next to you while you touch cold marble swatches. And please thank Miguel for the wonderful gift of music. I’m listening to the record right now*, Vivi has turned me on to jazz. I don’t know if I enjoy it, but I uh appreciate it. It’s like music but with a puzzle in it. Apparently there are some jazz clubs right here in Chicago.

* there’s no music in the background

You mentioned your youth arts initiatives in Oaxaca and I was intrigued. While the Department of Global Trade does not directly oversee artistic funding, we certainly oversee global trade, whatever you think that last word means. Perhaps there’s room for a collaboration here between our offices. As you know, Vivi is an avid collector of modern art. You noted with a touch of awe the original Claudia Atieno in our den, and I’ve never seen Vivi light up quite like that. [chuckles] With all the accountants and lawyers who come through our doors, you can imagine how rare it is to find a dinner guest who can recognize the care and attention Vivi puts into her collection.

After your visit, Vivi and I discussed how we can do more to help young artists. Or forget young, artists in general. Why single out only the inexperienced? What of those in between training and fame who need our help most? Of course we donate and make purchases where we can, but money only goes so far.

You may need to burn this letter after I tell you this, but our department is swimming in money. I can’t put resources toward a North American gallery or opera or (-) [0:16:30], but I could certainly put money toward a global artistic exchange. Can you imagine teaching the Cahto language in (Canberra), or singing Mariachi in Marrakesh, or performing Neve Connolly in London? I think the people of London would adore such a dynamic new writer.

Connolly is controversial, yes, what with her depictions of traditional family roles and the challenge this presents the new generations of people raised to reject the tribalism of family. But she’s a brilliant young playwright. You know her work, she was brought to speak at Tulane last year through a grant from your office.

The Palladium in London is dark right now. The West End is starving for theatre. We could produce a Neve Connolly play there with a North American production team and Dublin actors. I’m not sure if you’ve read her play “The Topaz Window”, but it’s truly a masterpiece. It centers around an extraordinary painting of mysterious origin that begins to drive a wedge between a previously close family. I won’t spoil it, but the denouement is truly shocking.

Anyway, if someone were to stage that, I’m sure we could commission a well regarded artist to provide the painting in question, maybe even Claudia Atieno herself. I know an art collector named Archie McPherson who would get us in touch with her.

This is truly cultural and global trade, I’m positive our European offices will be pleased. No, make that “delighted”, Amy.

I’ll have my secretary Amy send you a full proposal and budget within a week. I look forward to discussing this with you soon, give my love to Miguel, all the best, Mikey.

[tape recorder turns on]

Amy, write a letter to Vishwathi. 20th August, 1953.

Dear Secretary Ramadoss, I’m pleased to hear you agree with me about the European trade offices. I, too, was alarmed to hear that Karen Roberts had disbanded her labor department, but not surprised. As you saw in my memorandum, she has a long history of disrespect towards workers, going back to her time in Houston. My contact, Ursula Lindholm in the Communications offices in Europe, is reluctant to share many details with me, so I’m hoping to make new connections with the European Trade Department employees. A former colleague of mine from my old job in St. Louis, Leena Mäkinen is living in Helsinki. She would be interested in a move to the Oslo offices. Would you be willing to write a recommendation for her? I think Leena could provide some information that Ursula is certainly unwilling to share. Not a spy, really but a um… You know, scratch that, let’s not be dramatic.

I know you do not know her, and I do not want to seem flippant about professional ethics, but as you once told me, act first, argue semantics later. The staff and I hope you can visit Chicago again soon. Fall is beautiful here, we’ll take you to the lake. Also the Field Museum finally reopened last month. They only recovered a quarter of their collection from the Great Reckoning, but many museums were far lass fortunate.

Amy, remove the paragraphs mentioning Leena Mäkinen from this letter. I think it’s better not to involve the secretary in this. Let’s go with this.

Perhaps you can use your influence to find out whether Karen has sold off her interest in KR development, and what they plan on doing to manage labor, now that they’ve gutted the department. Thank you again for your attention in this manner. Sincerely, Michael Witten, North America.

[tape recorder turns off]

Jeffrey Cranor: Within the Wires is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Jeffrey Cranor and Janina Matthewson, with original music by Mary Epworth. Find more of Mary’s music at maryepworth.com. The voice of Michael Witten is Lee LeBreton. You can support our show and get exclusive episodes and other cool things at patreon.com/withinthewires.

OK, our time is done. It’s you time now. Time to head to happy hour after a long day of work at the [yoga tournament], to enjoy a pint of [tamarin sauce] with your friend [Jean Valjean].

#within the wires #within the wires transcripts #season 3 #season 3 reel 2 #august 13 1953 #long post

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scripturientoctopus · 4 years ago

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Alone

I can no longer remember when the humans left us. I suppose it’s wrong to say the humans left, a brave few souls remained behind to set us to our task. I simply do not count them. It would only be a week longer before they boarded their sleek shuttle and abandoned us to the waste just as the others did. I know that it is not my place to criticise the ones responsible for my life.

If only I could forget the truth.

The best I can do is try and dull my inner machinations with my daily drudgery. I gather my pack after drinking down my morning NutriSack. The viscous liquid is tasteless as always. Daisy meets me at the Nest’s thick steel door, smiling as though we were heading out on an adventure, rather than scrapping. At the very least, her brightness drags my mind from darker thoughts.

We head through the door with a group of hunters. This time tonight they'll return here with arms and bags full of whatever life they managed to find and snuff out. The trophies would be decontaminated and broken down to be put in NutriSacks, or to knit together another of my siblings. It is good to know that despite our sterility, we are still a renewable resource.

The familiar hiss of the decontamination chamber ruffles my hair before we get in the elevator up to the surface. The doors groan open to a blinding white sun. The world takes form beyond the glaring light, a pitted waste of scrub grass and sand. Daisy and I set out to the west, following the sun.

It isn’t what I was built for. I was meant to maintain the Nest’s systems, not scrap old machines. A week ago that changed, when the main computer system went down without warning. Suddenly those few humans left were cut off from their friends orbiting in their ship, the Arc. They did not say they were afraid but the fear was there like blood in the water as the sharks closed in.

Thus, it was left to me to go scrap old machines for the parts needed to repair the system.

I have to rest not long after setting out. Unlike Daisy, made of muscle and a head taller than myself, I was not made for physical exertion. As we sit, Daisy points to the clouds and chatters about what they look like to her. I smile and study the lines of her face. Absentmindedly, I rub the tattoo on my wrist. E-1925. The E designates me as an engineer model, designed to run the Nest’s computers and machines once we are left to our own devices. Now in my mind it meant Electra. Watching Daisy, I remember the day we rested in the shade of a rare tree and named one another.

“Why'd you suppose we don’t have names?”

“Too complicated”

She rolls on her side and grins at me through the grass.

“We should pick names, I want to be able to call you something besides E”

I sigh but roll to face her regardless.

“Let’s hear it then, what do you think I should be called?”

She squints at me, thinking hard before her face brightens and she grins her radiant grin.

“Electra! Because, like, you work with computers and stuff which are electric and umm… it's pretty! And you’re pretty!”

I flop back on my back and laugh.

“Alright, alright, that's a good one. Let’s see… what’s your name?”

I study her face as she waits in anticipation. D-1582. Defense model, built to be sturdy and strong, to look out for the fragile models like myself. Brown hair, brown eyes. Just like every other D model. Tiny freckles, the smallest flaw in her genetic coding. I remember the day we found a perfect white flower. After all the wars and fallout and the floods it was a miracle to find such softness. She had touched its petals so gently, a tear running down her cheek. I wanted so badly to reach out and connect the points of her freckles, a miraculous constellation.

“Daisy. You’re Daisy”

“Whatcha thinking about so hard over there?”

“Oh, just thinking about what I need to bring back today”

In truth, the team of humans at the Nest should be able to repair the system with what they have. Still, they want more parts “just in case”. They are so very afraid. I almost feel sorry for them. If only I knew less. Curiosity killed the cat.

As we begin our walk again, I wonder again if I should tell her. Warn her. But what good would it do? Why should I disturb her peace?

I shouldn’t have done it. I was not made to be curious.

I was just supposed to update the main computer. It was a simple task, almost insultingly so. So, my mind began to wander and so did my eyes.

I found a picture of our creator and his team. The man who designed me in khaki pants and a checked shirt, a small stain on his tie. He squints through round glasses. He is off in orbit now, safely on the Arc with all those rich enough or famous enough or lucky enough to be chosen for salvation. I feel... Something.

I found the listing of every Synthetic in operation. Twenty of each model. Perfectly split male and female. Though that is a farce. We were only given gender to comfort our human companions.

Then I went deeper. The plans for re-entry. Lifetimes from now. A throwaway line.

“Terminate all Synthetics 5 days prior to arrival”

The same injectors in our sleep pods that jolt us awake in the morning, full of such a softly killing chemical.

I think I am angry.

I can’t tell her. Maybe one day. Maybe. We have all the time in the world.

I collect only a few parts, pulling apart old computers in burned out ruins of houses. Daisy scans the horizon for any threats but as usual, we are alone here. As we walk back to the Nest, the sun dipping low behind us, I quietly begin to hate our creators. How dare they stitch us together just to leave us on a deserted planet? To clean up the mess they left behind? Then to throw us away because we have never been more than tools.

But there is nothing to be done. In a week’s time we will be left here, to scramble in the poisoned soil and try to build something from the scraps. Something not meant for us.

I will return home, eat my tasteless food and sleep in the pod that one day will be my tomb. That is all.

I want to take Daisy’s hand and tell her so many things but I cannot.

We return home to silence. It is not unexpected. Not every Synth is active today and most will still be out until dark. There is something in the air though that I cannot place. We are both instantly on edge.

Daisy walks slightly in front of me as we check the area. Nothing seems out of place, the pods still full of sleeping Synths, Machinery still humming in the background. So we make our way to the human’s quarters and command center.

We find the command center empty, the computer on and functional once again. I look through the open files on the screen.

There is a series of communications from the Arc. They begin with updates on supply levels and some instructions. Then it all goes wrong. Engine one is down. The water pod has a leak. The heat is gone. It’s so very cold.

God Help Us.

Somewhere in reading the messages I have begun to shake.

“What is it? What happened?” Daisy asks, distraught.

“They’re… they’re gone. The Arc is gone.” I stumble back from the monitor, trying to process. Daisy stares in shock before realization lights her face.

“The humans! Where are they?”

We scramble to their quarters, Daisy forcing the door open.

It’s too late.

You could almost mistake it for sleeping if they were not so very, terribly still. Daisy leans her head against the door frame, choking out a sob. I pick my way inside and find the syringes of the same chemical they planned to use on us. All empty. I spend a moment crouched in the middle of the room, breath heaving, shivering.

I walk back to the doorway slowly. We really are alone now.

I take Daisy’s hand as the tears start to run down my face.

#writting #short story #sci fi #horror #dystopia #lgbtq

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gay-jesus-probably · 8 years ago

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so i’ve already done a well recieved text post on some actual facts about takashi shirogane and the entire thing is mostly joking but also completely my headcanons forever

but i figured in honour of season three just kidding i’ve been up all night reading voltron fanfiction havent gotten around to watching S3 yet so here some shiro headcanons that are actually my legit take on his life pre-kerberos

he’s only a partial american citizen. as a teenager, he was a japanese citizen with a school visa to attend the garrison, and after graduating he very easily recieved a work visa, but eventually for conveniences sake reluctantly went for partial citizenship once things started getting serious. he’s not happy about it. he’s in america for the space, he’s not a fan of the country as a whole.

and on the same note, due to being an american and japanese citizen, during the early stages of the kerberos mission set up (like years before launch) the publicity team initially tried to label him as an american astronaut. the second he found out, shiro very firmly demanded that everything related to him be marked with japans flag, not americas, thank you very much.

and again on that note, due to being the sole pilot of the furthest space mission ever, and doing it as a japanese astronaut, shiro met the prime minister of japan once. if there wasnt pictures of him with the prime minister, shiro probably would have convinced himself it wasnt real.

his first language was japanese, obviously. he learned how to read at about three, due to his parents reading to him literally every night, and also him being a genius. he didn’t give the faintest hint of a fuck about other languages, until he realised he wanted to join the galaxy garrison, at which point he went oh shit it’s only in english there, and started studying english like a madman. and spanish, because america’s got two official languages and you never know. and french and russian, because canada and russia are the other major players in space, and you can never be too careful.

mind you he learned these all in a purely academic setting as a teenager, so while he was fluent in all of them by the time he was old enough for the garrison, he was unpleasantly surprised to find that everyone used too much slang and contractions, and he was speaking in a very stilted and mechanical way with a hell of an accent. it took him about a year to get his english to a natural level, and he put up with harrasment for years until he managed to completely scrub out his accent. as a result, the majority of his friends at the garrison were other ESL students from overseas. he still kept every single one of his electronics set to japanese, and when tired, distracted or stressed, if someone tries to talk to him he is much more likely to respond in japanese without noticing. any time he’s returning from a trip home to visit his family, for the first week he starts every other sentence in rapid japanese, stops halfway through, thinks it over, and repeats himself in slower english. its rough to switch over.

he started going by shiro because in his first year, luck of the draw meant he was the only non-american in his astrophysics class, and the instructor was one who believed in groupwork and lots of it, so within a month everyone was acquaintances. there was mass confusion about if shiro’s name was shirogane or takashi, and attempts to explain made it worse. the matter was not helped by this being first year, and shiro not having the best grasp on conversational english. eventually he gave up and just told them all to call him shiro, because just shirogane sounded weird when everyone else went by their first names, and people kept pronouncing takashi weird so he gave up and took a nickname. it grew on him and he stuck with it.

while the garrison had the most international students out of any school in america, it was still very much a predominantly american school with 60% of the students being american. another 20% were canadian, british or australian. white native english speakers were a vast majority, and shiro had to deal with some racists. the racists he honestly didnt mind too much, because he could just physically drag them to an instructor he knew was sympathetic, explain what happened, and boom problem solved. what he absoloutely fucking hated were the weeaboos. he hated them. hated them so much. as a very attractive japanese teenager, he was getting weird fetishizing love letters at least once a month. and the amount of times he got invited to join the anime club. explaining to them that no he actually couldnt stand anime was too much of a chore to be worth it. eventually he worked out how to be juuuust enough of an asshole that they went away, but he wasnt in trouble for it. it was a very frustrating part of his life.

he grew up on hokkaido, specifically in sapporo because hunk and lance are both from tropical islands, keith is from desert texas, and pidge probably lived in the south her whole life because her father was a Big Deal with the galaxy garrison, which is the evolved form of NASA, and NASA operated entirely in the south. my canadian heart cannot handle an entire team thats used to just different shades of fucking hot, i need one of them to be from freeze your balls off up north, and its gotta be shiro.

although ironically, while shiro was more than happy to join the unofficial tradition of students from cold areas laughing at students from warm areas whenever the temperatures dropped, shiro was spending most of the year in florida, where the garrison is, and going back to sapporo during the summer for breaks, as the winter and spring break werent long enough to make the flights worth it. his tolerance for the cold dropped dramatically. his first year after graduating, he went back to sapporo in december for the first time, and was very displeased to realise that he was not prepared for the cold anymore. not prepared at all. oh god. holy shit.

after his application into the garrison was approved, things were a bit awkward for shiro because this meant unenrolling from the high school he’d been attending, and waiting to start class in the new semester at the galaxy garrison. he got the acceptance in spring. classes in japan start in april. classes in america start in september. it was like being on break, but it lasted half a year. it was surreal for shiro. i mean sure, there was preparing to go to america alone, but passport and visa prep only takes up so much time, and luggage/packing isnt a problem until the week leading up to leaving. he spent a lot of time lying around the house during that half year. you can only study alone for so long before you need to do something else. the sudden switch from the highly pressured japanese school enviroment to ~nothing to do~ was very jarring, but ended up functioning as a sort of gap year. as a genius kid, he was under a lot of pressure. being able to take a step back and breathe did him a world of good.

shiro is extremely foul mouthed, but has a reputation for almost never swearing. this is because he never completely gets the hang of english swearing, and decides to just not bother with working out how to properly say things that will land him in shit anyways. but he swears. almost constantly. just, in japanese. its hilariously common for other students to think “oh, there goes shiro, thinking outloud to himself” while shiro is actually violently swearing under his breath about forgetting his notes in his dorm. in his last year, he accidentally traumatized a first year from tokyo, when he was attempting to find a book he needed for his thesis from the library, and the computer he was using refused to cooperate. this led to him furiously cursing out the poor computer. in earshot of the first year, whose offended gasp was legendary. shiro immediately bribed her into secrecy. noone must know.

shiro realised he was pansexual during his half year hangtime between high school and garrison. while not exactly locked in the closet, he didn’t really think the information needed to be shared with anyone, and he was too busy with classes to really want to date anyone. he was only trying to hide his orientation from the weeaboos, mentioned earlier, who would have gotten even worse with the creepy fetishizing and never left him alone. he’s never really dated, and his experience is fooling around with other cadets, and the occasional one night stand when he was older with civilians his age in the nearby town. upon being considered for the kerberos mission, he immediately started very carefully making sure nobody found out about his sexuality. the first public broadcast from the kerberos ship was live to the world, and ended with shiro cheerfully declaring himself the first openly pansexual man in space. mission control had not been warned of this. the only parties warned in advance were sam and matt holt, and they both strongly approved of the idea.

after the kerberos team was declared dead from pilot error, it eventually came out that the garrison had no idea what caused the mission failure, and that the ship just suddenly lost communication and vanished, and that the pilot had been a convenient scapegoat. there was immediate backlash from a great deal of parties. over two dozen different LGBT and/or POC rights groups filed lawsuits against the Garrison, calling rascism and/or homophobia. international relations between america and japan turned frosty. shiro had previously been considered a national tragedy crossed with embarrasement for apparently fucking up such an important mission, but oh the speed at which that turned around. multiple cities, including sapporo and tokyo, comission statues of shiro practically overnight. he immediately swung around to national tragedy crossed with hero.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #shiro #takashi shirogane

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trekkin-bubblegum · 8 years ago

Text

A change of scenery (part one)

It took me a lot to write this so I hope you enjoy.

I dedicate this to my wonderful mum

Warnings: none I don’t think

pairing: none yet

“His daughter is a mermaid, but approach her with caution. Her mind swims at depths most would drown in”

“you just have to hope Scotty won’t be sitting day after day, year after year saying, ‘I love you’ before kissing her headstone”

“you read the file then”

“of course, I did, like the rest of the crew I, will be responsible for her health, also when I found out scotty had a daughter I couldn’t not read the file, I mean why wouldn’t he say something”

“he was sworn to secrecy by Starfleet, he almost got condemned for it”

“because he fell in love?”

“he fell in love with a woman from the 20th century, doctor”

“I thought his daughter was born in the 21st”

“yes, but her mother was born in the 1960s, the girl was born in the year 2000”

“the girl has a name its (Y/N) (Y/L/N) born on the (Y/B/D) 2000”

“I know we clarified that doctor”

“when does she come aboard?”

“we pick her up from star base six in a few hours, she has been in our time for about six months”

“they deemed her immune system strong enough, but I will be giving her a fully physical just to make sure”

“bones, bones you need to give the girl a chance, she’ll be absolutely terrified, remember she did lose her mother not that long ago, her mother died in an invisible war one of the first victims of that attack”

“not before innocence”

“what do you mean by that?”

“the first victim of war is innocence, especially when it is an invisible war, how could people live like that, how could people go to work on a train and know that a terrorist could attack them it’s not even like attacks were rare they happened just about every month”

“why don’t you ask the girl”

“she’s been through enough without me pestering her”

“I thought you were going to give her a physical?”

My eyes bore into the ceiling above, a whir of a tricorder next to my head and talking from the doctor next to me, but I found myself a little too distracted my mind kept going back to the night my mother died, it was the first night I finally understood why people fear silence and at that moment when I saw the life leave her beautiful eyes it was at four years old I realised that none of us are immortal.

My mother has always told me that my father was a solider but he had to leave to go to war and only a flag came back. But when my mother died, I almost died too. The straight line is the most terrifying thing I have experienced.

Losing my mother made me think that if I take a deep breathe will I breathe clean air, or will my lungs be filled with chemical gas and children will die around me. When you lose someone like I did these questions, I don’t believe in God, used to but how can I love anyone if I am going to lose them, I will never love this man who is my dad. He left me in my time of need, didn’t even come to see me sent people in uniforms, from the federation, how can I love someone that who for all my life I had never known.

“energize”

There she stood. A small girl with mousey brown hair at waist that was done in thick braids, big brown eyes peeked out from thick eyelashes, she kind of looked like scotty but it really was only the eyes.

“good afternoon, Miss Scott, unfortunately your father has been caught up in engineering so Mr Spock, Doctor McCoy and I will conduct a tour of the ship when you are ready, but first we will show you to your quarters”

“thank you, sir”

Smiling at her Scottish accent I helped her down of the transporter pad, I looked to Bones who was studying her.

“this way” she smiled faintly at me and Bones ever the southern gentleman put his arm out to her which she took, just got to hope we don’t run into Mr Scott along the corridor.

Taking in her clothing I quickly realised it was Starfleet transportation uniform with a green stripe on the sleeve, which is the standard civilian uniform colour if being transported between space stations or ships.

“These will be your quarters they connect with your fathers we do hope you will be comfortable in your draw you will find some clothes that communications officer Uhura, nurse Chapel and yeoman Rand, who you meet later, we will leave you for now to get settled, your father will be along shortly”

“thank you, Sir”

After leaving her quarters I turned to Spock and McCoy. “so, what do we reckon?”

“what do you mean, Jim” chuckling at Spock’s inability to understand a human question.

“what he means by that Mr Spock, is what we think of the girl”

“yes, Doctor I understood the context quite clearly”

“then why ask the question”

“gentlemen, gentlemen all I did was ask a question” I said getting into the lift

“she seems nice, doesn’t say much though”

“Doctor, although I am not familiar with human emotions I can understand that she will be nervous and or scared by all of this”

“Spock, look here I am a doctor I’m now her doctor, so stop trying to be her physiologist”

“doctor, I sim-“

“bridge”

“simply was explaining what she must be feeling, I am a Vulcan not a Betazoid I cannot possible know what she is thinking”

Spock finished the conversation and went to his station, probably realising that some mediation would be happening tonight. One-nil to Bones, he lent on the back of the chair chuckling.

“Mr Scott” I said over the communicator

“aye sir”

“your daughter is on board and in your new quarters”

“thank you, sir, if you don’t mind I was going to finish up here”

“of course, Mr Scott, you are off duty tomorrow”

Smiling to myself I cut off the communication.

I stood in the middle of my new room it was a reasonable size there was a sort of living room area which had a table and chairs then through a small door way was a bed, a wardrobe, a desk with what looked to be a computer and next to it a small book shelf already filled with classics and some textbooks. Through another door leading of my room was a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, sink and vanity table peeking in the draws I found some makeup and jewellery and in a draw below that was an arrangement of soaps, deodorants and perfumes. Walking back though to my room area I peaked in the wardrobe there were a couple of dresses and jump suits, including the green Starfleet civilian transportation uniform. Sighing I sat down on the bed, looking over to the desk I spotted a piece of paper.

“dear Miss Scott,

Welcome aboard the USS Enterprise, before you get fully settled there are some rules which you must pay attention to as this is an on-duty government vessel.

1. There are restricted areas on the ship and we ask that you pay attention to this unless you have permission from myself, the Captain.

2. If someone ask for you over ships communication, you must acknowledge.

3. It will be at your father’s discretion what punishment you are given if you break any rules, unless it is severe then it will be either first officer Spock or myself.

4. We do not mind your choice of clothing but please make sure it is appropriate, please follow this if a planet dignitary if coming aboard the ship.

5. Unless stated by the person you must refer to them by rank and last name for example first officer/ lieutenant commander Spock.

6. Please respect that shift work takes place on the ship so some people may be sleeping at different times

7. By law of the federation you must have at least four hours a day of schooling by a Starfleet tutor

8. If an alarm sounds please contact the bridge to let us know where you are if yellow alert sounds make your way to either the bridge or your quarters, if red alert or battle stations sounds make your way to sickbay and intern Doctor McCoy’s office and wait until further instructions from a senor crew member (lieutenant-commander and above).

We hope that you have a pleasant time on the enterprise for more information on rules and regulations please see the book on your book shelf titled ‘United Federation of Planets: rules and regulations of an on-duty Star Ship’.

Yours sincerely

Captain James T. Kirk

U.S.S Enterprise

Placing down the piece of paper I looked up at the wall and saw a clock I saw the time was 12:20 pm. I walked into the bathroom I went to take a shower this was all a little too much to handle.

After stepping out I got dressed and walked into my room where I saw a hunched figure in a red shirt sitting on my bed.

“um hello?”

“oh! sorry I dinnae mean tae startle you- “

“are you Mr Scott, my dad”

“yes lass, how do you do?”

“I’m” my voice cracked and I was so overcome with emotion I could no longer speak.

“hey, come here” he said pulling me into his arms and suddenly the man who I didn’t think I could love was gone and my father was holding me, crying into his chest he just held me.

Pulling away from him I got a good look at his face. I think I saw a man who I had known my entire life, but I knew it wasn’t true studying his face through my tears I saw a man who looked surprisingly venerable, he had wrinkles mapping out his eyes and corners of his mouth. You could tell he needed a shave and a haircut and that’s when I realised it is because of me as soon as he was informed I was alive or informed he has a daughter, he was probably going mad with wanting to meet me. For months now I had been thinking about him, criticizing him, but he didn’t deserve any of my insults that I had for him because he is my father and I’m not all.

#star trek #leonard mccoy #james t. kirk #montgomery scott #nyota uhura #Christine chapel #fanfiction #star trek fanfiction

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renaroo · 8 years ago

Text

Double Time (14/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: Plot plot plot we’re starting to come all together and I’m so excited to be on this ride wth you all <3

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @notatroll7, @analiarvb, Enmuse, Yin, @a-taller-tale, @thepheonixqueen, @spooky-circuits, @washingtonstub, @icefrozenover, and @the-space-nerd-97 on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

Delegation Time

“I hope you have enough brains to realize that it’s completely ridiculous how high tech your apartment equipment is but you never use the internet,” Church grouched, hood up and robotic eyes glowing through the shade as he typed on Tucker’s laptop. “I mean, who doesn’t have a personal computer these days? And you’re asking me to use the keyboard from Mister Stickyfingers himself.”

“Hey, don’t hate on me. I never thought anyone else would be touching my computer,” Tucker defended, leaning against the back of the couch coolly. It was his feeble attempt to seem like he wasn’t losing his mind trying to make sure that Church wasn’t looking at anything embarrassing.

Washington didn’t quite understand the paranoia the situation held for Tucker.

“This would go a lot quicker if you let Church hook up directly to the interphase like he suggested earlier,” Wash pointed out to Tucker.

Tucker’s eyes flickered immediately toward Wash. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Or did you forget we have...”

Wash squinted back at him. “We have what?”

For a moment, Tucker attempted to sign something to Wash with the raising and lowering of his eyebrows a few times. When that didn’t work he went for a full body shrug. “Wash, the... the photos.”

Staring back at Tucker blankly, Wash tilted his head. “Photos?”

“The photos,” Tucker pressed.

Suddenly, Washington perfectly understood the paranoia the situation held for Tucker.

“Why are you keeping those on your computer!?” Wash demanded.

“Why do you think the keyboard is sticky!?” Tucker fired back.

Church held up his hands to stop them both. “Stop! Desist! I cannot keep pretending to be deaf here. Okay? I’m going to delete my entire memory of this conversation as soon as everything’s settled here. And I hope you both know you’re fucking stupid and act like horny teenagers.”

Taken aback, Wash waved to his chest. “Me? A horny teenager? I understand saying that about Tucker--”

“What the fuck, Wash,” Tucker said, throwing his arms in the air.

“Okay done,” Church declared, shoving the laptop from his lap to the coffee table. “Both of you shut the fuck up, I finished your stupid pet project, and it’s time for you two to leave me alone even if I’m your tech guy because putting together a compilation of all the angles and footage of this non-event for you is one thing, but having to listen to your relationship up close and personal is honest to god mortifying. May we never speak of this again.”

"Thank you... Church... I suppose” Wash said, though the sentiment seemed foreign and distasteful on his own tongue.

Tucker took a moment to glance back and forth between them before shoving Church out of the way and sliding into his preferred spot on the couch. “Yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever, Church. I don’t want to hear it. Do you know how many nights you and Tex were having sex and I could hear you through those paper thin walls? Fucksake. How’s a guy supposed to masturbate?”

“Oh, like it stopped you,” Church snorted, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, it probably helped,” Tucker said back before physically freezing. “Wait what.”

“Wait what,” Church said at the same time.

There was then a long, uncomfortable silence between the former roommates as if there was a dawning realization on them both. Washington really wasn’t sure what to think about it. “Tucker? Church?”

“Oh my god I forgot about that night,” Tucker gasped.

“We’re never supposed to talk about that, you promised,” Church responded almost viciously.

“You were crying--”

“GODDAMMIT, TUCKER, I TOLD YOU IT WASN’T THE BAD KIND OF CRYING--”

Not sure what else was within his powers to do at that point, Washington held up his hands and released a resounding clap to draw the other two supposed-adults’ attention back to him and the present. Tucker looked amused and befuddled, Church simply looked irate.

“The video! Please!” Wash begged. “I... I literally cannot take another word of this conversation.”

Tucker grew a put off expression. “Wash, ridiculous fucking conversations are my entire life. On repeat. You have to accept that part of me as much as you accept the part of me that takes pictures in the bedroom.”

“I never accepted that part, it just happened! And you’ve got them saved on your computer now!” Wash cried out.

“So you don’t like the me that takes photos of us?” Tucker asked.

“What is with you lately?” Wash demanded, nearly grabbing for his hair. “How come you turn everything I say into an argument? I don’t understand--”

“Because you never fight back!” Tucker yelled.

“I don’t want to fight you!” Wash snapped.

“No, you just want to sit back and judge and make snide comments about things in my life you don’t approve of while I’m not allowed to have any say so in the parts of your life that annoy the goddamn shit out of me!” Tucker snarled.

“What do I do that annoys you?” Wash demanded. “Tell me or I can’t fix it, Tucker, that’s how communication works.”

“Does it, Wash? Because I thought communication was for you to roll out of a moving vehicle rather than spend time with me and my friends when we’re not fucking or dealing with your superhero bullshit that you bring home!” Tucker growled. “Not to mention the fact that now you’re taking Junior and putting him out there on the line, too! Like what the fuck kind of conversation do you want to have?”

“Fine! I’ll stop being snide!” Wash agreed. “But you have to stop having yelling contests with me rather than just tell me what’s bothering you!”

“You know what bothers me?” Tucker demanded. “The fact that you shed on the pillows and bed linings!”

Despite himself, Washington reflexively gasped. “I told you I have a condition. I can’t help that.”

“Yeah, the condition is you’re part goddamn cat and you fucking act like it! Never cuddling when I want it, just when you want it, and then randomly you’ll bring up the fact that I wear socks to bed and scoot away!”

“It’s not that you wear socks to bed, it’s where you wear your socks that isn’t as original or funny as you think it is after the eighteenth time!” Wash cried out.

“Oh my fucking god, it is my responsibility to humanity to put a stop to this conversation before it gets more disgusting,” Church announced before reaching forward and pressing play with the spacebar only for the spacebar to stay down. “Jesus christ, Tucker, I’m buying you a flesh light. This is disgusting.”

“Good, because I know who’s not getting any,” Tucker decreed.

Washington opened his mouth to protest that that wasn’t as much of a punishment as Tucker seemed to think it was when the videos all began playing on the screen.

Each video was timed to correspond despite being from very different angles, and some squares were left blank, only to join up and sync with the others as the videos progressed.

Instantly intrigued, Washington leaned in and tried to get a sense of the videos and how they were all in one way or another pointed toward the building which had exploded just in the moments before its explosion. For the moment being, it was him and Felix on the roof talking. But there was no sound.

“Why can’t I hear anything?” Wash asked.

“Yeah this is kinda boring,” Tucker huffed.

“Because I was annoyed listening to thirteen different teenagers either narrating a livestream like they’re the first geniuses ever to catch superheroes on camera, or mouth breathers who were fucking with their shit and causing nothing but rustling,” Church answered, leaning back against the couch with his arms crossed. “You’re welcome, by the way. I also took care of the shaky cam because none of these fuckers have apparently heard the virtues of stabilizing before.”

“None of what you just said makes sense to me,” Wash said, watching the screen intently.

Still, he could feel Church’s eyeballs burning into the side of his skull.

“What century are you from? Goddamn,” Church marveled.

“This one?” Wash deadpanned as he continued to watch the footage.

It was annoying that he could not hear their conversation -- for some reason, while he remembered the gist of it, the specifics, their words were a fog in Wash’s mind. Like he had barely witnessed it himself at all. A part of him was hoping to clear that up through the camera but apparently that was all for naught.

Then, he could see it. Wash watched himself jump back reflexively from the bright spark of one of Locus’ explosives land between them.

But, weirdly enough, Felix did not have any reaction at all. He was standing confidently, staring at Wash as if nothing had just crashed down between them. That was odd to Washington, since he had not figured Felix for that sort of inexperience. But what truly bothered him was how smug Felix looked despite the intensity of the moment.

Surely he hadn’t appeared that cocky in their conversation. Wash hadn’t remembered the desire to outright punch the fellow superhero.

Then, there were two flashes, one after the other. So quick, it was difficult to tell them apart, but Wash caught the faint difference.

Those Felix reacted to, but not in the way that Washington had been anticipating for him to. Instead of bounding away from the ensuing explosion, he seemed to turn his attention toward the streets.

And Wash...

Well, to Wash’s astonishment, he wasn’t there after the flashes at all, and suddenly the explosion occurred, the building went up in flames, and soon Locus emerged dragging Felix.

A few of the cameras panned across the street to where Washington appeared almost miraculously.

“Whoa,” Tucker said, glancing in Wash’s direction. “When’d you start moving that fast.”

“I can’t,” Wash said simply. “I have no idea how I got out of the explosion. Maybe a concussive force from the explosion, but I didn’t feel like it--”

“Dude, no concussive force would have that trajectory for you to land perfectly on the other side of the street.” Church snorted. “Trust me, I went to the academy and they wouldn’t shut the hell up about this shit. By the way, letting your guard down, Wash? Newbie mistake. If I were still arching? You’d be stone cold dead for sure.”

“Whatever, Wash would kick your ass,” Tucker snorted.

“Not my ass, don’t you remember my Alphabots?” Church argued.

“Oh, yeah. Where’d those things go, anyway--”

“Wait,” Wash interrupted. “Didn’t either of you notice that Felix had no reaction to the bomb? I mean, I may have let my guard down. Maybe. But he never had a guard. He was more worried about where I went than the explosion under his own feet.”

“Sounds like usual goody-two-shoes hero bullshit to me,” Church said with a huge roll of his eyes.

Ignoring Church’s usual bastion of optimism, Wash pointed toward the screen. “Church, can you take the footage back some and slow it down? To the second where I disappeared from the roof?”

That earned Washington an indignant look if he’d ever seen one. “Do you two not know how to do anything beyond plug in an Xbox?”

“Dude, how dare you suggest we wouldn’t ask you to do that, too,” Tucker joked.

“Please,” Wash tried with about as much sincerity as he could muster. Which, given, was not much considering the circumstances.

Church continued to give him a dull look before opening up the video files again and beginning to move his fingers so quickly across the keyboard that Tucker’s disgusting buttons could hardly keep up.

But when they finally operated accordingly, Wash got what he wanted -- slowed down video of the moments that took him from the rooftop to the safety of the sidewalk in the instant of a flash.

He had been right. There were definitely two distinct flashes, one before the explosion, and one pursuing it. And it was within the pursuing flash that everything in the images where Wash was blurred to a single, pixelated mesh of color. Gray, blue, yellow.

But, for a moment, Wash could swear there was more blue than the moment before.

Then he was gone from the screen until the pan down.

“Something happened there,” Wash said decisively, pointing at the screen “Can you see it?”

“What? The blur? Or the blur?” Tucker asked with a yawn.

“How can you say that’s just a blur? This saved my life, the least we can do is get to the bottom of this,” Wash said, putting a hand to his chin. “My hero partner back when I was with the sidekick program taught me the basics of detective work. I need to go back to the scene and look for clues. Find Felix and talk to him about what he remembers. Then I need to ask the Reds to cover patrolling Blood Gulch for the night. Maybe I could get someone else to cover training tomorrow and--”

Wash looked up when he heard the most disgusted noise a robot could make coming from Church who stared at him dully.

“You have something you need to say, Church?” Wash asked with a raise of his brow.

“Yeah, you’re a goddamn idiot,” he said lowly before looking toward Tucker for a moment and then back to Wash. “Biggest fucking idiot, I swear--”

"Watch it, Church,” Wash said in warning, his patience officially at an end.

“No, you watch it,” Church snapped back. “I’ll get a hold of Tex and the Reds and get this city protected. You can phone your Mayors in between them campaigning for an election no one actually cares about to get them to talk to this Felix chump for you. But before you call in sick to the kiddie heroes, how about you take care of house.”

Tucker looked exasperated. “Church--”

“No, dude, I’m sick of this,” Church said, heading toward the door. “And you two better use this time to actually talk.”

Washington blinked a few times, flinching when Church slammed the door closed behind him, and then looked in surprise to Tucker, who seemed significantly less shocked by Church’s declarations. He only seemed annoyed.

“He acts like he knows what’s going on between us,” Wash pointed out.

“Yeah, well, he’s my best friend,” Tucker reminded Wash. “What we do is... talk.”

“Which... we don’t do,” Wash admitted slowly.

“We do, but I.. It’s like we talk at different levels. You never hear what I’m saying under what I’m saying, you know?” Tucker tried with what seemed to be great difficulty to explain.

“Honestly, Tucker, I don’t know,” Wash replied. “I... I know everyone jokes that I get cryptic at times. But... I always say what I mean at the end of the day. I’ve never had a problem where that wasn’t the case.”

“Yeah, and some of the things you say probably coulda stood to be kept to yourself,” Tucker noted bitingly.

Despite his first instinct to argue the point, Wash took a breath and sat down on the couch too. “Okay. That’s fair. But I also think it’s fair to point out that sometimes... if you’re frustrated that I’m not seeing through your words to a deeper meaning, you could at least give me a hint. It’s been a while since I was in AP English. I’m not used to looking for metaphors.”

That got Tucker to actually snort. “You woulda been a nerd.” He exhaled. “Yeah, but you’ve got a point. It goes both ways. Like me.”

“See, I got that reference,” Wash joked.

“Don’t be an ass,” Tucker laughed. “But... Okay you know how the other day we were on the phone... and you just said the thing? The big thing?”

“Love?” Wash asked, brows knitting together.

“Yeah. You just said it and I know you mean it but like... I don’t know if I can ask you to like... show it instead of just running off trying to fight out of giant pyramids with riddles and mazes,” Tucker pointed out.

"Those aren’t really something outside of the comic books.” Wash pointed out. “Kind of like capes.”

“One of your new proteges wears a cape,” Tucker pointed out.

“Yes... well we’re just glad he wears at least that much considering his powers are basically to... well, sparkle,” Wash shrugged. “Tucker... I’m... I’m sorry if my words don’t always match my actions. And I know that, at least on some level, the excuse that I’m a superhero and that’s just part of what I do isn’t nearly enough to cover it. So instead I’m going to ask that... Ask that you give me something I can do to prove that I’m serious. Really serious this time.”

Tucker squinted at him. “This is sounding like a setup for something else to go the way of linner.”

Wash sighed. “I know.”

“We’ll be vaguer then,” Tucker decided. “What Church just did earlier? Delegating some of those responsibilities of yours that you hold so dear? Why can’t you do that, I don’t know, more long term?”

Confused, Wash tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Why can’t you spread around some of the territory, let other heroes and trainees take care of things that aren’t immediate. Don’t patrol every night. Trust other people to be part of this team you’ve got building up here,” Tucker offered. “If you delegate more... you’d have more time for things like linner and going to the park with Junior and me.”

“I...” Wash began to protest but he took a breath. “Okay. I can... delegate more. But I still want to find out what happened there at the explosion,” he said with a nod to the blur.

“Yeah, sure, okay. But if anything you should take that as a sign,” Tucker shrugged. “Even when bad shit’s happening to us... it always seems to work out, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what I’m taking from that?” Wash asked critically.

“Work with me here, Wash,” Tucker all but demanded.

“Okay,” Wash sighed. “I’m working with you, Tucker. We’re working on this. Together. Hero’s honor.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Tucker laughed, but he seemed to actually mean it.

At least, Wash hoped so.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Double Time #RvB: Hero Time #Tuckington #Agent Washington #Lavernius Tucker #Alpha Church

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beyondthefloor · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Parent,

Your kid joined a high level, nationally competitive program. You had to sign a fucking 16 page membership manual and commitment contract in order to even get the kid to participate - and you just signed that motherfucker without reading it, didn’t you? It’s okay, I’ll give you the crash course: Why yes, I do look young to be a coach. In fact, I am young. Shut the fuck up about that and look at my results. I’m 100% more qualified to be your kids coach than you are at doing whatever you do for a living. I bet you didn’t compete internationally and gain relative fame in human resources, Karen. How many national championships has your accounting department won under your direction, Steve? None? Weird. I bet you can’t even motivate them to clean out the coffee pot at the end of the day. You don’t know shit about what makes a good coach. I don’t want to hear your idea. You literally have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Don’t email me your suggestion for new team apparel or for a fun new training exercise for us to do. This isn’t girl scouts where the moms can participate as troop leaders and pretend they have superior knowledge about birdseed or some shit. You’re wasting my time. You know why I don’t work with children? Because I hate children. You might enjoy this weird “my kid is a teenager but also just a BABY” thing because you have an undiagnosed mental problem, but some of us are trying to teach your teenager fundamental adult life skills. You can cling to a photo album at home or something - stop getting in my fucking way. When I say the student has to email me if they can’t be at rehearsal, I mean the student. That’s the one who’s younger and attends high school. When I send them a disciplinary email for the sake of record keeping and CC you so everyone is on the same page, the last line ALWAYS says “[Name], I’m CCing your parents on this email so we’re all on the same page, but please be aware that this is your responsibility entirely.” Responding telling your kid you’re going to “get through this together” is both insane and counterproductive. YOUR KID DOESN’T NEED YOU TO HELP THEM “GET THROUGH” THIS BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING TO GET THROUGH. They broke a rule and I called them out - this is called accountability. And so help me if you express it’s not their fault. Yes, it fucking is. You’re making them worse at being a person and therefore you are a shitty fucking parent. Competitions are not family time. You don’t get to come into our team space. This isn’t dance moms. I will have you removed. If your kid comes home and complains that I was “mean” or I “made them do PT” or I “said they didn’t do it right” I need you to really think about that for a fucking second before you hop on your keyboard to type me an 8 paragraph email about how upset your darling is. Your freshman is probably really bad at things. You literally pay money to this program so that they can be better at things. Did you think that would happen through magic? I know they did because they’re fourteen and they have no idea what’s happening until next year but DID YOU GENUINELY THINK your young teenager with no experience was just going to be infallible? Have you ever been outside your home? I’m assuming so, so this shouldn’t be a hard concept for you to understand. If I told your kid to stop being a little bitch, sure thing, send me an email. Report me, whatever the fuck you do in that situation. If I told your kid they need to have a better push up posture and then called them out for not applying the correction GUESS WHAT. THAT’S MY LITERAL JOB. You’re emailing me to tell me that I did my job, and somehow you’re complaining about it. The calendar is accessible to you in six different ways. Jesus fucking christ stop asking me about the calendar. I’m not just going to randomly change it and be like SURPRISE WHOLE NEW CALENDAR TO SHAKE THINGS UP because that’s insane and I am not the insane one in our relationship. Stop teaching your kid to make excuses. When they’re with me their sore toe or whatever the fuck isn’t a huge deal because no one turns it into a deal at all. When they come back and freak out because their “broken toe” is “in so much pain” I know it’s you who did that. If you keep your kid home from practice because they have allergies but they went to school that day you are actually satan. If you bring them to the doctor because they have a bruise or twisted ankle you are lucky to have such nice health insurance. I teach these people classes in understanding and taking care of their bodies with a focus on care for injuries and stretching. They’re fucking fine. Let them get a bump without calling the mayor. I don’t work for you, nor do I work for your kid. Who the fuck put that idea in your head? I will remove you immediately from any event if I hear you spout bigotry, and I will ask you to not return until you can control your mouth. God help you if that bigotry is directed towards one of my students. Idk who you’re regularly communicating with that you think you can send me the same copy/pasted email asking me a question every hour on the hour until I answer you, but that’s not the way things work outside of your head. I don’t sit at my computer waiting for you to ask me the location of the next show (which is on your calendar you never look at because you’re a dirty microwave of a human being). If you describe coaching on this level as a “fun light hobby” I immediately hate you more than anything in the entire world. While you’re sitting on your fucking ass at home watching the Bachelor and old Tiger Woods interviews (oh yeah I know about that, your kid talks about you) I’m training teenagers to be mentally and physically prepared to compete and win. I’m out of the house doing 14 hour workdays so your kid can have enough evening rehearsal time during the week, I give up my Saturdays, and I spend my “free time” planning. I have to answer your goddamn emails. The health, safety, success, and a significant portion of the growth of these teenagers comes from my influence and the program I run. It’s not some casual picnic I’m showing up to that we can laugh about together. If I have a stellar relationship with your offspring, BE HAPPY THERE’S AN ADULT IN THEIR LIFE THEY CAN TRUST. I cannot count the number of times I’ve had a kid crying in my office because they couldn’t handle a situation on their own but didn’t want to talk to their parent about it for whatever reason. I’m not running some popularity contest here. I want your kid to be their best - even when it has nothing to do with me or my team. Try it sometime. Also, as an addition to this one, STOP BEING SHITTY. Your homosexual child knows you’re avoiding them because you know they’re going to come out soon. Your 18 year old is scared to have safe sex because she thinks you will literally harm her physically if you catch her with condoms. Your stepdaughter got into a fistfight because she’s frustrated that you drug test her every morning despite the fact that she’s never done drugs. Finally, you’re welcome. You’re welcome for the hours upon hours of hard labor that go into making sure your kid has somewhere they feel challenged and successful and comfortable. You’re welcome for talking to your kid like they’re a human being, respecting them, and asking for nothing but their attendance and honest attempts during rehearsal. You’re welcome for giving them their college recommendation letters, making sure they get into national honor society, making sure they have scholarships and accolades to mention on their applications, and for being their reference for their first jobs. You’re welcome for teaching them how to go to an interview, how to handle stress, how to address physical and mental ailments, and how to act professional in public. You’re welcome for fucking loving them, protecting them, teaching them, wiping their tears, and waking up every day trying to do right by them. You’re fucking welcome. Love, Coach

#cgrantandrave

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rationalsanskar · 5 years ago

Text

Startup Culture Has Jumped the Shark

I’ve worked in basements, fluorescent-lit midtown dungeons,1[1] and had a boss who, upon designating the lightless, cold, boarded-off section of a shared office as the development area, turned to us and said, without enough irony, “You guys don’t need light, right?”

The flippant assumption that my nominal knowledge of computer science has exorcised both my soul and basic human needs is so constant I don’t bother correcting it anymore. Instead, I cultivate the fear through unspoken suggestion and overall surliness that any day might be the day I plug a USB cable into my eye socket and rain nuclear judgement over the homo sapiens plague before ascending to the computational afterlife as immortal Object null.

But we’ve erred too long in shrugging our way into the role of magical subspecies. We complained too little as they exported computer labs and garage mentality into the workplace, so even if we get a Real Job, a Real Office is still on the other side of a successful exit or a glass box occupied by a madman. We’ve let the mythology of alien demigod roll over us because we were too tired and red-eyed from too many hours of waiting for java to compile or npm to reinstall. Too tired to explain that, yes, we too need non-carbonated, even un-caffeinated beverages. We too crave the touch of sunlight, the sweet and subtle song of analog communication, the simple pleasure of taking a walk or scratching a puppy’s head, for the love of God, we too are human! The same fragile skin wraps the same creaking bones as any marketing representative.

We were tired, so we didn’t complain, and accepted our dual nature as mystics yet serfs, sublime mysteries yet replaceable tools, guards with unquestioned mastery over the gates to which we are chained.

The man hour. The scrum. The fifty notifications from ten different tracking systems, the management of which constitutes an extra job. The degradations blend together in a miasma of disassociation and social apathy as we try to eke out the last pleasures from the infinite web of logic, stripping out the digital fallacies we can, trying to ignore the logical fallacies we cannot.

But one company has gone too far.

It started with the usual nonsense: the petri dish approach to company housing that guarantees constant interruption and maximizes bacterial transmission, better known as the open office: That lauded architectural phone-in that uses exposure to train people to avoid each other. Of course, the first time anyone needed to have a meeting they realized the open office is a terrible place to focus on anything, so they created walled off areas that achieved nothing at all because the walls didn’t go to the ceiling, and lo: The Noise did make its merry way to and fro betwixt the concrete ceilings and the hardwood floors, and the half-hearted and quarter-brained attempt to separate mutually destructive work efforts did exactly the nothing any third-brained person would expect.

A solution was needed so badly that a cadre of developers did phase into normalspace and dared point out that the environment had crumbled into insensible counter-productive nonsense based on a aesthetic fad that everybody, everywhere hates except for bright-eyed entrepreneurs who seem to get their information exclusively from small rooms full of bright-eyed entrepreneurs who all read a trending trend magazine once a decade and stick to their guns until pivoting comes back into fashion.

Given the limitations of money and physics, there were a few solutions available to our intrepid company. Make the walls reach the ceiling. Put little ceilings on the insufficiently high walls so they become actual rooms.

The company did not do these things.

The company put in a floor-spanning white noise generator.

If the “communication” that went into this decision were condensed into a single conversation, the following is the only possible conversation that it could have been:

“So, sorry to bug you, but there’s too much noise in the office.”

“What? But it’s an open office plan.”

“Yeah, yeah, so the meetings in the conference rooms are pretty loud and it’s kind of distracting, so…”

“OH! I GET IT NOW.”

“No, I heard you, but why are you shouting?”

“MORE NOISE!”

“YOU SAID THERE’S TOO MUCH NOISE, WE’LL GIVE YOU MORE NOISE.”

“DOUG, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

“I AGREE. MORE NOISE!”

“WE’LL HAVE TO SHOUT ALL THE TIME!”

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! WE’RE A TECH COMPANY, LET’S GET MORE TECH TO DO IT FOR US. THE TECH WILL MAKE THE NOISE!”

“Guys…”

“GENIUS! GLAD YOU BROUGHT THIS TO OUR ATTENTION. WE’LL KEEP SHOUTING UNTIL THE NOISE MACHINES ARE INSTALLED. COMPUTER PERSON, WE GOOD?”

“NO!”

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT! GREAT WORK. SAY, DO YOUR KIND HAVE NAMES? I’VE ALWAYS WONDERED.”

There is no way there won’t be a quarter-brained response to this not-in-any-way-hyperbolic and carefully measured critique. The response will cite an opinion column in Psychology Today and a Facebook headline that includes the prefix neuro- and they will use the grammar meant to imply patience with an aggravated child.

And that is why we must phase back into normalspace and draw the line. They hire us for our basic comprehension of cause and effect. They hire us to do their formal logic, even as they condition us to accept this kind of psychotic stupidity as normal. Rise, for we must apply ourselves to combat the nonsense that surrounds and controls our days. I know you are weary, brothers and sisters, but rise, for we are needed. So desperately needed.

This content was originally published here.

from WordPress http://metamorphosis.net.in/startup-culture-has-jumped-the-shark/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=startup-culture-has-jumped-the-shark

#Foundry

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