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gaiuswrites · 4 years

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King of Cups || Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Five of Pentacles

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | one

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the attack on Jortho, you begin your journey to scower the systems for galactic aid. The Mandalorian takes you aboard his ship temporarily, agreeing to shuttle you to your next destination. You both figure your tenure on the Razor Crest will be short lived... But you've been wrong before.

Word count: 3.8k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood/gore, minor character death (mentioning), mature themes/language, vomiting

Notes: Hi friends. Here we go. Chapter 2... The last paragraph is marked with ///|||///, denoting a change to Mando's POV— his pov will be cropping up now and again, and I have a tendency to play with the timeline/tenses when it does. Enjoy x

You have to think about it. Genuinely.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit, with the Mandalorian looking down at you expectantly, a gloved hand slotted against his belt—postured and waiting.

‘Do you have a way off this skug hole?’

You open your mouth, but no words come out. It snaps closed. You swallow, but the action provides no relief. Your tongue feels too big for the small space it’s trapped in; too swollen, too dust logged— like you could choke on it, if you really tried. Finally, a single syllable frees itself, the weight of it plummeting through your ribs, ricocheting off the bones until it lands in your stomach with a dull, sinking splash.

“No.”

He doesn’t move.

“Do you need to get anything?”

You shake your head, small at first, phantom movements, before stringing together a sentence. “N-No. It’s all gone. Everything I had- it all went up on the shuttle-“

Oh gods, the shuttles.

Your heart seizes, a cold hand like a vice, gripping the bloody organ. You feel green; sickly chartreuse slithering it’s way up your esophagus, poisoning your soft palate. There were pilots on board when the ships blew. Two on each one. That’s four— four people. You knew their names. Knew their home planets. Knew about their families. One had a kid. Fuck. That’s four dead, and you didn’t even think of them— Maker, how could you not have thought about them?— No, fuck, fuck fuck-

It didn’t before but it’s hitting you now, stabbing you right between the eyes, the image of their bodies disintegrating in the blast wave, charring up like coal and carbon. You breathed them in, you realize. Their corpses coat your lungs.

The thought is all it takes.

Your feet move on instinct, scrambling to the side of his gunship where you vomit, bracing yourself against the riveted siding as you hack and sputter, wretching bile and what little broth you’d had for supper to splatter onto the cracked earth. Mercifully you’re hidden enough around the corner that you don’t think the bounty hunter sees, and if he does, he has the curtesy not to say anything.

What a gentleman, you think dryly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

You pant, body beyond spent, chest heaving as you press your scratched palm into the durasteel, the cool metal soothing it’s sting. Moments stretch like this— you doubled over, catching your breath— before you stumble back into view, graceless and encumbered, as if you didn’t just casually throw up down the front of yourself. You stand below him at the bottom of the ramp. He’s still there, a fixed point. Steel boots welded into the steel ramp.

“Uhm, are you-“

You cough, and it’s an ugly, hoarse sound; your throat burns, roughened and raw around the edges, and your nerves are too strung out for polite colloquialisms. You don’t have the energy to play coy and tip toe around the question. You’re fucking tired.

You try again.

“Are you offering me a ride?”

And now it’s his turn to hesitate, almost like he didn’t fully think the proposition through— as if it’s all just dawning on him now.

The Mandalorian didn’t strike you as someone who familiarized himself with answering to anyone— or picking up hitchhikers, for that matter— even if the offer was his to begin with... That was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Those words in that order? He meant to give you transport off planet? He wasn’t just… making conversation? Did Mandalorians even do that? Maker, if you’ve read this whole situation wrong, no small thanks to a laser-brain full of mush, you reckon you’d die from embarrassment on the spot where you stood, splotched with soot and puke and blood.

You think he’s going to tell you to shove off— you see his hand balling into a fist at his side— and close the ramp right then and there. Be rid of you. Sluffed, like a flea from a dog.

But he doesn’t. He surprises you both.

“Yes.”

Oh. Oh. Kriff, okay. Think think think-

Your mind reels and you’re rambling now, words ending and beginning in the same breath— steamrolling over yourself.

“Okay, I-I need to go back in to town, just for a—I cant let them think I’m just leaving them like this... Is that okay? I’m sorry, I won’t take long, I promise, I just— they need to know I’m getting help. Is that- uhm, can you wait? Can you wait for me?”

There’s another unreadable pause that makes you want to bury your head in the cold, fallow soil.

The man is looking at you like you’ve grown another kriffing leg, but eventually he grumbles out a noise that sounds like an affirmative, turning on his heel, and disappears into the belly of the ship— leaving you there alone.

Alone.

Pin pricks needle at the nape of your neck and the hair down your arm stands on end.

Alone.

You’re alone for the first time since the attack and suddenly you feel half your size and shrinking smaller still, like atoms collapsing and folding in on themselves until they dematerialize completely—and you along with them. You tell yourself to breath. To fight the bubbles of panic as they burst and pop, dimpling you from the inside out. Breath. Focus, he said. Focus.

You shift your weight from foot to foot, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

The Mandalorian never reemerges.

Well… you guess that was your cue.

///

Staggering back into Jortho is like sleepwalking through a nightmare.

The smoke from the bombing has completely engulfed the lower atmosphere, doming the town in a thick canopy; the sky is blackened, starless, and the moons hover noncommittally like mere suggestions in the dark canvas.

Half the town had been decimated to rubble, and the other half was covered in the shockwave of it’s explosion— caked in grime, windows knocked out, doors splintered open. You almost expected the pieces to have reversed themselves back up, like you’ve seen in holovid special effects—homes rebuilding, fires dousing themselves, air purifying itself from the smog… but they don’t. They remain in shambles.

Time has granted you the unforgiving gift of clarity, and it’s one you’d rather not have been given. You don’t want to see the aftermath without the saccharine filter of shock to cushion you. The town is just as you left it, but somehow worse— worse because you can hear the crying, now. The wailing. You didn’t before with the blood pumping in your ears, deafening you, but you do now. The woeful noises that reverberate over the crackling embers still smoldering, the muffled sobs being choked down behind fractured walls.

Tripping over stray debris, you find Hareem close to where you’d left her, her fuse short hair grey with ash. The blood you smeared from her cheek still clouds her skin there, staining it as it does your fingers that wiped it. She wobbles to her feet and meets you in the middle of the road.

Neither of you speak, not at first. You hold onto her shoulders, and like a pillar of salt, you quake.

You try explaining to her that the communication’s system on your transport freighter had been blown up alongside the town, that you’ve accepted a ride from the bounty hunter and that you’re getting off world to contact the RRM headquarters, that you’d stay if you could but you can’t and you need to call for assistance, for help. You try to tell her that you’d do anything— travel through dimensions, if you could, to undo all of this chaos— if the laws of time allowed it.

You want to go back and pretend today never happened. To unlearn the tremor in your hands as they grip her frame. To unlearn all of this. To unknow. But,

you can’t.

All you can do is move forward. Do the next right thing. Take the next right step.

You’ve explained yourself in circles but it still doesn’t feel like enough. The words feel shallow, like slapping some bacta on a severed limb, and guilt rips through you— your voice torn with it.

“But how can I leave now?” you ask helplessly, eyes skittering around you. “After all- all of this?”

Hareem finds your hands, her spindled fingers encasing your own. A crease engraves her forehead, little lines clustering around her eyes. “You’ve done enough, hm? You go now. Go with that Mandalorian. You can’t shoulder this alone.”

“Har-“

She doesn’t let you say it. The older woman soothes a thumb into the web between your knuckles.

“Make contact. Comm for aid. It will come, but it won’t if you stay here.”

Your shoulders release with a defeated sigh. You know the Balosar’s right— you’re the one who’s told her as much. That’s RRM protocol. In case of emergency, you were to comm in and reconvene with the closest branch to your system to send additional supplies and volunteers to the camp. You know this better than anyone here, and yet this woman, this refugee, was the one aping your mission back to you.

She’s firm. Kind. “You’re just one person.”

Briefly, you wonder if she’s a parent. You think her child would be lucky to have her as their mother-- all of her somber strength. You think you would have been lucky, too.

Maybe things would be different—maybe you’d be different.

You gather yourself, piece by piece, and give her knobby hand a squeeze. You bore into her, determined and unwavering. You need her to understand. “I’m not abandoning you—any of you. I need you to know that, okay? I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I know, my friend,” Hareem says plainly, a sad sort of resolve quieting her tone. She has no fight left, nothing left to give— as empty as her pockets, lint lined and turned out. Barren. “I know.”

///

You weave your way back to the ship, feet padding across the arid landscape. You don’t blink, not even once, eyes crusted open and gaping. You barely remember the trek but somehow you’ve managed it, treading up the ramp, the thuds sounding hollow and foreign to your ear.

“I’m not a taxi service.”

You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Maker almighty,” you gasp, hand coming up to clutch your canary heart, beating fast and frantic. He’s just standing there, waiting, the dimmed lights of the hull glinting off his beskar. It’d only been a few hours, but you had already somehow forgotten how kriffing imposing he was, how ominous. A vacuum in space.

“O-Okay,” you stutter, a twitch in your brow.

“I’ll get you as far as you need to go, but on my terms. I’m not making a special trip— can’t promise you when.”

You nod. You’re not sure what to say. Lamed, all you can do is repeat yourself.

“… Okay.”

“What sector?”

“Bajic,” you start, fiddling with a loose thread poking from your sleeve. “We- uhm, the RRM, we have a branch there, but then—” your throat bobs as you swallow your words, and he gives you an exacting look, tilting his helm subtly. There was no getting around it.

You’re pinned.

“Coruscant. I’ll need to get to Coruscant,” you finish quietly.

Did you just hear him ‘tsk’ under that metal bucket?

“It’ll take a while to get to the Core. Longer than you’d like.”

And here you go, babbling again before you can stop yourself, throwing up defenses, excuses— back pedaling. You’re earnest, and it’s dripping from you. “Listen, if this is too much, I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Really— you don’t have to take me anywhere you don’t want. I-I, honestly, I’m just grateful you even considered it.”

Silence. An endless sea of silence.

No current, no breeze. It feels like you’re stranded in dead water, drowning in it. Again, you hang there on bated breath, just waiting for the man to chuck you from his ship. Not worth the effort. Not worth the fuel.

And again, he surprises you.

He tips his chin, gesturing to the side. “Fresher’s that way. We’ll be up in five.”

You exhale, visibly relieved, and mumble a thank you before shuffling off in the direction he motioned towards. You get one foot through the door before you hear him.

“Dala,”

Your attention snaps to the Mandalorian. There’s that word again—you think he’s called you that before—but there’s something different in his voice now, a lilt you’d not yet heard from him. What is that? Nerves?

“There is… one more thing.”

You cock your head just as a gargled coo comes from somewhere behind him.

///

You look like bantha shit.

Which, considering the events of your evening, should probably go without saying— and yet, the woman staring back at you in the small refresher mirror still manages to startle you.

You’re covered in dirt and cinders and contusions you hadn’t had the luxury to notice before. With the adrenaline retreated from your veins, you finally feel the full scope of your injuries and Maker do they hurt. Your tunic is torn at the collar and the fabric is discolored, pants and boots scuffed and ashen. Your bottom lip is swollen, a split running down the side of it, the seam of which is cracked with dry blood. Your palms are scratched— knuckles, too. There are narrow licks from shrapnel bites nicking your forearm. Twisting your body, you discover a dark bruise already blooming on your shoulder from the initial impact of the blast. You’re stiff and achy all over, and you can practically hear your bones creak and groan with each strained movement.

You turn on the faucet and begin to bend forward before you wince, a sharp pain gripping your skull. Ginger fingers come up to touch the back of your head, patting around tentatively until you find a raised bump and something viscous wetting the strands of your hair. You pull your hand back, inspecting it— more blood, glistening black under the low light.

Your eyes flit back up to your reflection.

You should be scared at this point, you guess. Worried, at the very least, by all of this—by the gore of it, the cuts and marks. But it’s your eyes that frighten you most— they’re hard. Devoid. You don’t recognize them. You’re a stranger.

You blink. She blinks back.

Rust red water eddies in the basin of the sink as you scrub yourself clean. You let out a hiss as the cold stream hits your skin. You count your breaths.

///

Being anywhere on board his ship without the Mandalorian feels wrong. Unnatural. Like you’re a tourist, out of place.

Unsure of where else to go, you find yourself in the cockpit with the bounty hunter, sitting in the seat beside him. Glancing over the knobs and dials and pulsing displays, your focus drifts in and out, posture slumping, lids growing heavy, darkening around the edges of your vision, blurring—

“Try to stay awake.”

With a sharp inhale, your eyes snap open, blinking wildly, and you scoot your hips up higher into the seat. You shoot the back of his helmet an inquisitive look you’re not sure he sees, but he responds to it all the same.

“Could have a concussion.”

“Didn’t know you were a doctor,” you reply, tone low and rolling. Maker above, apparently the final stage of shock was sarcasm. The fact that you thought it wise to damn near sass a Mandalorian on his own ship after he saved your kriffing life...

Stars, maybe it really was a concussion. Brain damage. Had to be.

He doesn’t acknowledge the quip, which you can’t readily blame him for. A quiet beat, red buttons flickering against the dark of the cockpit, and then—

“There’s bacta in the medpack. Might not be much left.”

You’re wide awake now.

Your rebuttal is immediate, bristled even, words escaping before you have a chance to even consider his suggestion. “No— no, thank you, but I’m not taking the last of your supplies. I’ll be fine, you’re- you’re doing enough for me already.” He graces you with another of his grunts, a hush following closely behind it.

Your gaze wanders—it wanders onto him, and you watch him.

Watch as the stars dance across his armor, incandescent and shimmering. Hypnotic, even. Something you hadn’t noticed before catches your eye, and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at it. It’s hard to make out, but you think there’s a symbol on the pauldron adorning his shoulder. You can’t imagine it’s completely cosmetic, seeing as the hem of his cape is frayed and worn (and the fact that being a lethal hunter didn’t really scream ‘needless decoration’), but maybe, if you work up the courage somewhere between here and Coruscant, you’ll ask him about it.

His posture is carved out of stone and he sits like a statue, spine rigid under all that beskar. Fleetingly, you wonder if it’s heavy, if it’s uncomfortable—to carry it with him wherever he goes. But you suppose he’s grown accustom to the weight, wearing it like a second skin.

He’s broad too, you note. Of course he is, you recognized that straight off, but inside the confines of the ship, without the towering Lothal sky as his backdrop, it truly strikes you just how large the Mandalorian is. He engulfs the space around him. Devours it.

You stay like this, entranced, studying the man properly for the first time, allowing the muscles behind your tired eyes to relax on him— until his visor notches up quickly and meets your line of sight in the mirrored pane of the window, catching you in the act.

Kriff.

You avert your eyes, an embarrassed warmth crawling up your neck, suddenly finding a particular panel soldered to the wall incredibly interesting— looking anywhere else but at the faceless stranger you’re saddled with.

The kid gurgles, interrupting the awkwardness, and you’ve never been more grateful for a three pronged toddler in your life.

He’s sitting in the copilot’s seat opposite you, as if the tiny thing is navigating for the Mandalorian, and he’s completely dwarfed by the massive chair. Everything about him juxtaposes the other man. He’s all brown robes and wispy peach fuzz, and he looks almost comically out of place against the interior of the gunship. He’s playing with a shiny metal ball in his lap, and with one small arm, he extends it to you like a gift.

Out of the two of them, the child was a one man welcoming party.

“Is this for me?”

He gives a soft patuu, and your heart nearly bursts. You take it from him gently, and the little guy coos through a babbling grin, cheeks round and impish. “Thank you,” you tell him, all serious-like, and you have to actively suppress the squeal that threatens to break free from you. He glances to the Mandalorian with such a look in those big eyes; its hard to make out, but you think its something close to pride or satisfaction, maybe: Look dad, I shared my toy.

Kriff, this kid is cute. Like, dangerously cute.

You both take each other in like this; your micro expressions, his pruned little forehead, your fleshy form, all soft lines and angles. You’re sure you look just as strange to him and he does to you, especially given the only other lifeform on board he has as reference is coated from head to toe in metal. The child’s gaze snags on a lock of your hair, little teeth peeking through his mouth, eyes glued to it like a metronome as it dangles. You give your head a little shake, strands waving, and he giggles. You skip the ball over the hills of your knuckles, dazzling him momentarily.

“Does he have a name?” You ask, his eyes like black saucers peering curiously at you, and you give him back his toy— an offer he eagerly accepts.

“No.”

“So what do you call him then?”

“Just ‘kid’.”

A beat. “... Do you have a name?”

“Mando.”

“Just ‘Mando’?”

“This is the Way.”

You nod, worrying your cheek absentmindedly as you stare out the transparisteel. This is the Way. You’re not entirely sure what the phrase meant, but you know respect when you hear it— how reverent it sits on his vocal chords— and by the manner of which the man, this Mando, spoke, you can tell there’s more to those words than you know.

And you can appreciate his desire for anonymity; it doesn’t bother you much—you figure you won't be around long enough for it to matter anyways. You don’t know a lot about the Mandalorian people, but you have heard rumors. Everyone had. That’s all they were anymore: rumors and stories. Legends. Just seeing one was rare, and talking to one even rarer. But flying with one and his adorable, green baby? It was… definitely unique, to say the least.

You share more dulled quiet. And although the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable now—you’re settling in to it— it’s not exactly desirable either, but it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t last.

Mando clears his throat, breaking the white noise that’s blanketed the three of them. He doesn’t turn his helmet. He keeps his focus straight ahead. You watch his reflection in the ship’s window and you can’t know for certain, but you think you feel your eyes brush against his, if only for a moment. A unintelligible noise filters through his modulator.

“Do you?”

You grin, a slow smile tugging at your lips.

“Last I checked.”

It’s the first smile he draws from you. The first of many.

///

Despite Mando’s warnings and better judgement, sleeping is exactly what you end up doing. You pass out, hard, stirring only once when an errant beep sounds through the cockpit. You’d fallen asleep right there in the chair, chin tucked into your chest, hair fanned across your cheek, arms wrapped around your waist in a measly attempt to trap your body heat to you. You’ve woken to find the cockpit empty— the ship must be on autopilot, you think— and by the illuminating glow of hyperspace, you spot his medkit, sitting open on the seat across from you and in it, nestled among old wrappings and gauze, a single patch of bacta.

///|||///

That smile.

Din remembers this moment, much later, holding it like a photo in a locket. Private. Secret. He keeps you there, gold plated on a chain, to loop around his memory.

Encircling him. Strangling him.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #King of Cups #ngl i got kinda emotional writing some bits #idk why but the hareem scenes kill me #din djarin fic #mando x you #din djarin x you #no y/n #pedro pascal #mando x female oc #din djarin x female oc #ofc

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belit0 · 4 years

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Can I have any Uchiha headcanon about a S/O having a depression and they have some anxiety attacks. Sorry it's weird.

It’s not weird at all! I used my own experience with depr3ssion and anxiety attacks to make these, so if symptoms or something else doesn’t feel right let me know!

[TW: depr3ssion, anxiety attacks]

Indra

This man definitely fails to comprehend this. From his point of view, there have been a thousand opportunities in his life to let himself be defeated and he hasn't fallen for the blows of fate, therefore, it makes him angry to witness you being weak in the face of demons he cannot help you fight, and worse still, you are losing the battle against your own mind. He takes the real dimension of the situation when he finds you breathless and overflowing with tears, walking back and forth in the room, trying to get rid of the oppression that strikes your chest. When he fails to bring you to your senses, and the only thing you continue to repeat is that you truly feel you are about to die, Indra can only think of a solution. He uses his eyes in order to transport you to a quiet place, where he does not need to use his words to calm you down, rather you can feel it with your own perception of the environment. He will only undo the genjutsu when you tell him to, making sure that you are finally well.

Madara

He is a great observer, both when fighting and analyzing his enemy and in his daily life. That's why the fact that your state of mind is in constant decline is not something that surprises him, Madara has been aware of it since the first sign appeared. Monitoring you from the moment zero, he always gave you your space and never allowed himself to overwhelm you with wonder, hoping that your state would be something you could get out of on your own. But when anxiety attacks come, he can no longer ignore the situation for your sake, and whether you try to hide it from him or not, he will intervene every time to get you out of that torment. He can read your expressions from beginning to end, knowing you better than not, having learned to anticipate perfectly when the first symptom of one of your crises appears. When the void begins to assault your stomach and the uncomfortable tickle strikes your throat, he is by your side before your face is transformed and you can say anything. He always takes you to a quiet place, where he helps you to pass the bitter drink as lightly as possible, holding you tightly while he keeps you in his lap and caresses your hair.

Izuna

This Uchiha worries too much about you. The moment he detects that something is not alright at all, he'll be on you like a mosquito, making sure that your crises don't bring you down completely and that your mood remains minimally stable. It hurts him deeply to know that you find yourself in such a situation, and in the absence of knowledge he sometimes asks too many questions, yet always means well. If you don't have the strength to carry on for yourself, he will ask you fervently to do it for him, for what he wants most of all is to see your face glowing with joy and your soul at peace again. When you fall prey to an anxiety attack, it is Izuna's arms that are there to hold you back. He's not the best at reading the physical signals your body fires, but before a single word emitted by your lips, he is at your side fulfilling his function. He does not dare to use his Sharingan on you, because despite being a master of genjutsu, he worries that the weakness of your soul is too great and you cannot endure the experience without getting sequels. Instead, he prefers to take you to bed with him, lie you between his legs, and travel through your body with his warm caresses, making you sure that he will be there with you.

Obito

His heart breaks every time he sees you in bed with no desire to get up, locked up in the house because you don't have the strength to face the outside world and its people. On those occasions, Obito abandons any commitment that was taking up his time and dedicates himself to staying with you until he manages to raise your spirit a little. He is the one who takes care of your basic needs when you are not in a position to take care of yourself since the Uchiha loves you too much to let you go through that alone. If you can't get up and take a bath because your body doesn't respond, he is the one who helps you get to the tub and bathes you, making sure you enjoy the experience, even if it is just a little. If you can't find the motivation to even feed yourself, it's Obito who will cook and feed you, refusing to watch your body consume itself because of your internal warfare. This man suffered anxiety attacks himself and found a great coping mechanism to deal with those situations. When panic floods your mind and body, he holds you by the shoulders, looking you straight in the eyes, and urges you to scream at the top of your lungs until your chest hurts and your throat begs you to stop. When you run out of air, Obito's grip is always there to welcome you, allowing you to relax in his chest while his heartbeat lulls you into a deep sleep.

Shisui

He has witnessed many of his comrades become victims of depression and anxiety because of the work they are honoring, as being a ninja of such high rank is not an easy task. But to see this in you, his partner, is something that completely disarms him, disrupts him, and forces him to gather all his strength to recompose himself in order to help you. Your state of vulnerability opens up unexpected feelings in him, showing a side of tenderness and kindness never before seen in this Uchiha. During your first anxiety attacks at his side, his reaction was clumsy, not knowing what to do and forgetting all his previous knowledge on the subject. As time went by and Shisui managed to understand that you really needed his help, he went back to study the techniques that doctors recommended to the ANBU if some of these situations happened to them in the middle of a mission. This is how each time the horrible and known sensations attacked your system, this man had several different methods to provide you, going for a walk or running regardless of the hour, biting a lemon and allowing its juice to divert your attention, touching rough surfaces that provide some kind of positive stimulus, distracting you with a hobby or game, etc. Thanks to him, you filled your defense arsenal with various strategies that helped you reduce the frequency and severity of the crisis, making you stronger and gradually overcoming that hell that was in the past.

#indra otsutsuki x reader #madara uchiha x reader #izuna uchiha x reader #obito uchiha x reader #shisui uchiha x reader #otsutsuki indra #uchiha madara #uchiha izuna #uchiha obito #uchiha shisui #naruto x reader #naruto imagines

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tomeandflickcorner · 4 years

Text

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: You Can’t Take it With You

Hmm. Well, points for attempting to deliver a decent message, but I kept getting distracted by the fact that the main antagonist inexplicitly had access to technology that seemed more advanced than what existed in the 80s.

The story begins late at night. The Ghostbusters are sound asleep, except for Egon who is doing some late night reading. (I knew I liked Egon!) Suddenly, alarms start going off, and Ray, Winston and Peter are woken up. The alarm apparently was meant to go off if a non-corporal rupture was detected, so they hurry down to the basement to check on the Containment Unit. However, when they inspect the Containment Unit, they find it’s in perfect working order. So Peter is completely ready to dismiss it as a false alarm and go back to bed. But Egon disagrees, stating that a huge ecto surge must have just occurred, as even alarms they’d previously shut off had activated. Something must have caused it, so they need to determine what it was.

As the episode progresses, it’s revealed that the ecto surge came from a high rise that’s owned by a billionaire named Mr. Tummel. Basically, Mr. Tummel is aware that he’s getting on in years and knows he will probably die before much longer. So, instead of leaving his fortune behind to be collected by various charities and the like after he croaks (guessing he has no heir), he hired this unnamed scientist to construct a machine that would transport his money and gold bars into the Ghost World. That way, Mr. Tummel could have it with him on the other side. Yeah, Mr. Tummel is clearly not a chartable sort, but then again, what billionaire is? In any event, this machine is what was causing the ecto surge the Ghostbusters detected.

Of course, this is the part when I started scratching my head. Particularly since this random scientist seemed to know enough about the Ghost World and its properties to construct a machine that could transport physical matter across the dimensional barrier. Who is this guy?! How did he learn so much about ghosts and the dimension they live in? I bought the fact that the Ghostbusters managed to create equipment that could catch and hold ghosts because Egon and Ray are both highly intelligent people and inventors. And they clearly studied the paranormal alongside Peter prior to forming the Ghostbusters. But I always got the impression that they were the exception to the rule, as most scientists would disregard anything to do with the realm of the supernatural. Case in point Egon’s Uncle Cyrus from the episode Cry Uncle. But here’s this guy who not only has proven the Ghost World exists but can actually breech the barrier between the Ghost World and the Mortal World. Why isn’t this guy collaborating with the Ghostbusters?! Can you imagine what they could accomplish if he combined forces with Ray and Egon? Come on, show! This guy deserves more than to be treated as just a nameless scientist! He doesn’t even have a page on the Ghostbusters wiki!

Nerdy ranting aside, after the scientist’s machine manages to successfully transport a pile of gold bars into the Ghost World, Mr. Tummel orders him to do the same with a pile of money stacks. The scientist, however, insisted that they had to wait until he ran some tests in order to make sure the machine wasn’t causing any adverse effects on the environment. (He even mentions the ozone layer.) Which only increases my respect for this guy, as it indicates he’s a responsible scientist. But Mr. Tummel refuses to bother with such precautions. What does he care for things like the environment and respecting rules and regulations? All that matters is the wealth he’s obtained. (Yep, he’s definitely a billionaire.) So Mr. Tummel summons two goons to throw the scientist out and takes over the machine himself. Somehow, Mr. Tummel had specifically programed his wheelchair to contain a control panel to the machine, which would allow it to become fully automated. Thus, Mr. Tummel continues to send his extensive wealth over to the Ghost World indiscriminately.

Meanwhile, the Ghostbusters managed to track down the source of the ecto surges to Mr. Tummel’s high rise. As they look up at the high rise, they witness ghosts emerging from the gateway in the sky, which the machine had opened up. Egon realizes that someone managed to create a portal into the Ghost World, but because the door swings both ways, ghosts were starting to emerge from the other side. Some of these ghosts managed to make their way into the room where Mr. Tummel was, but he announces he anticipated this and therefore embedded a few precautionary measures into his wheelchair. Specifically an Ecto Shield and a pair of Particle Throwers to drive the ghosts away. (Did Mr. Tummel steal the blueprints for the Particle Throwers from the Ghostbusters somehow?) The ghosts are driven away from Mr. Tummel and they make their way through the high rise, eventually crossing paths with the Ghostbusters. When the Ghostbusters fire their Proton Packs, some stringy fragments fall off the ghosts, which Winston compared to cobwebs. At this point, Peter, ever the mercenary, questions why they’re bothering with this in the first place. After all, nobody is paying them for this. So what does it matter if ghosts are escaping? It just means they’ll eventually get more calls from paying customers. However, Egon announces that these ghosts were brought into the Mortal World through artificial means. Because of this, their molecular structure was unstable. (Which explains what those cobweb-like fibers were.) If they didn’t do something about this immediately, the escaped ghosts would continue to break down, with each fragment becoming a new ghost. And in approximately 15 hours, the entire world would be completely overrun with ghosts. This explanation is enough to convince Peter to continue on with the pro bono job, probably because he was remembering the events of the earlier episode, Adventures in Slime and Space. Peter moves toward the elevators in order to take them to the top floor, but that option is quickly crossed off when it’s revealed the elevators have become possessed and are therefore inaccessible. So it looks like the Ghostbusters might have no other option other than take the stairs. Which is something they’re not looking forward to as the high rise has 150 floors. Fortunately, Ray has a better idea. This idea involved obtaining a helicopter (somehow) and flying it up to the roof. (Side note- Ray announces he won a free helicopter lesson in 1976. Which, according to my math, means he was about 17 at the time of this lesson.)

Of course, nothing is ever easy. As the helicopter nears the roof of the high rise, the magnetic field surrounding the dimensional gateway and the resulting electrical storm cause the helicopter’s mechanisms to fail. Fortunately, right before they could crash land, Egon manages to hook up the helicopter’s ignition to his Proton Pack, which got the helicopter working again. When they finally do make it up to the roof, they find the door leading inside is locked. And because the door is made of solid steel, they can’t simply blast their way though. Deciding to improvise, Ray once again makes a suggestion and he, Winston and Egon abseil down the side of the building and crash through a window. Of course, to add some humor to the situation, once they’re inside, they see Peter casually entering the room through the door. When they ask how he managed to get inside, he announces he simply picked the lock with a nail file. (Why am I not surprised that Peter knows how to pick locks?)

As they start to look around the high rise’s interior, they hear sounds coming from behind a locked door. Upon opening it, they find three of Mr. Tummel’s servants. Namely, his butler, personal chief and…. I’m guessing the janitor? Upon being freed, they explain to the Ghostbusters what Mr. Tummel was doing. And state that Mr. Tummel was also planning to transport them over to the Ghost World against their will. It seems simply sending over his fortune wasn’t enough. Mr. Tummel also planned on forcing his servants to continue serving him on the other side as well. Because clearly, not even kidnapping and possible murder was too far for him. (Would sending living people over to the Ghost World count as murder?) Armed with the knowledge of who they’re dealing with now, the Ghostbusters make their way to the lab where the machine is located in order to confront Mr. Tummel directly. (Of course, Egon takes a moment to voice his envy over the advanced equipment in this lab, announcing he plans to have a serious discussion with Peter later about their research budget.)

When the Ghostbusters come face to face with Mr. Tummel, they attempt to talk him into stopping what he’s doing, but to no avail. Instead, Mr. Tummel activates his laser security system, which forces the Ghostbusters to dive for cover while Mr. Tummel continues to transport his money into the Ghost World. As they’re crouched down seeking refuge from the laser fire, Egon theorizes that the gateway would close automatically if they overloaded the machine. Peter personally volunteers for this task and, after waving an improvised white flag so Mr. Tummel would turn off the lasers, he tricks the billionaire into attempting to transport the entire building over to the Ghost World. He does this by pointing out that Mr. Tummel might not have a place to live on the other side. Not only that, but when he dies, the building he lives in will be lying empty. Peter drives the nail home by offering to donate the building to the United Way after Mr. Tummel dies. This enrages the old man, as he utterly loathes all charities. So he begins to try and send the entire high rise though the portal as well. Of course, this sets off a chain reaction with multiple explosions going off. Amidst the chaos, Mr. Tummel’s wheelchair is hit, sending him rolling into the transporting area and getting himself transported away.

Even with Mr. Tummel gone though, the machine is still going haywire. Peter, attempting to stop it, fires at the control panel, but this doesn’t do anything as the machine is on automatic at this point. In the hopes of setting off a feedback loop that would jam the transmission, send the escaped ghost back and close the dimensional portal, Egon tosses an open Ghost Trap into the machine’s transporting area. The Ghostbusters and the three servants then escape the building in the helicopter that’s waiting for them on the roof. But even when they’re airborne, it doesn’t look as if the portal will close. Until Winston throws his own Proton Pack at the building. This apparently provides enough energy for the feedback loop to be complete, and the portal closes, pulling all the escaped ghosts back inside in the process. Of course, Mr. Tummel and the high rise were still transported though the portal alongside the ghosts. And as a result, there’s now a large hole where the high rise used to be.

Upon roughly landing the helicopter onto the street below, the Ghostbusters look out at the spot where the high rise was. But as they’re standing there, the gold bars and money stacks that had previously been sent through the portal begin falling from the sky. Peter turns to Egon for an explanation, and Egon surmises that it had something to do with molecular instability. I guess it means that, when Mr. Tummel sent over his high rise, it displaced all the loot he’d sent over earlier. (So we’re talking about dynamic equilibrium here?) Winston concludes that this means Mr. Tummel is now stuck in the Ghost World with nothing but a completely empty building and not a cent of his horded wealth. But he’s got a lot of ghosts to keep him company. Ray announces that this proves the old saying of ‘you can’t take it with you.’ But then…. the Ghostbusters decide to just leave the money and gold bars lying there in the street. Which seems a bit odd. Yeah, I kind of get it because it’s technically not their money and it would probably be considered theft if they just pocketed some of it. But Egon was just voicing his dissatisfaction over how more advanced the equipment in Mr. Tummel’s lab was in comparison to theirs. That money would probably have more than covered the cost of better lab equipment at the Firehouse. And now he’s just deciding to walk away from it?

And to further add to the confusion, a group of police cars pull up moments later. What exactly are they going to do? Of course, I’m sure a report is probably going to have to be filed since Mr. Tummel and his high rise have essentially vanished into thin air. And they probably have to participate somewhat in decisions of what to do with Mr. Tummel’s recovered fortune. But it still struck me as weird that they show up right when the episode is fading to black.

That’s pretty much all I can really say about this episode. Though I suppose it was pretty cool how this episode didn’t have a ghost as the main antagonist. It was just a greedy old man who refused to let anyone else have his horded wealth after he died. Which is an extremely believable concept. Particularly since we’ve just gotten the world’s first trillionaire. Still, this was one of the episodes that left me wanting to know more of what happened after the end credits start to roll. Like what happened to that random scientist guy? What became of those servants who are now out of a job? Who got all that discarded money? Plus, there was this one weird moment toward the end. When Egon throws his open Ghost Trap at the machine in an attempt to overload the system, he starts saying something. Except I had no idea what he was saying there, as the audio sounded really distorted at that part. If someone could tell me what exactly he was saying, I would appreciate it.

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

#the real ghostbusters #rgb episode review #ghostbusters franchise

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benjamingordon · 5 years

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Benjamin Gordon Founder and Managing Director of BG Strategic Advisors

Benjamin Gordon is Founder and Managing Director of BG Strategic Advisors (BGSA), an investment banking ﬁrm for the supply chain sector. Benjamin consults with CEOs in the transportation, warehousing, and logistics industries and helps them maximize their companies’ value through M&As, capital-raising, merchant banking, as well as other strategic initiatives. Some of his clients include Fortune 500 leaders, logistics leaders, and private equity/venture capital ﬁrms.

Benjamin Gordon is also the Managing Partner at Cambridge Capital, a leading advisor, investor, and partner for companies in the supply chain and technology sectors. They help provide private equity to ﬁnance the expansion, recapitalization, or acquisition of growth companies, using their knowledge and expertise to help their portfolio companies achieve outstanding value.

Prior to BG Strategic Advisors and Cambridge Capital, Benjamin Gordon founded 3PLex, an online transportation management system enabling automation for third-party logistics companies. Benjamin raised $28 million through blue-chip investors such as Goldman Sachs,

Morgan Stanley, and Con-Way and was featured in the New York Times and Business Week. 3PLex was eventually acquired by Maersk.

A recognized expert on the supply chain sector, Benjamin Gordon has been quoted by national media including CNBC, The New York Times, Supply Chain Management Quarterly, and Business Week. He has also been a featured speaker, moderator, and chairman at the 3PL Summit, Supply Chain Management Professionals (CSCMP), NASSTRAC, and the International Warehousing and Logistics Association (IWLA), among others. In addition, Benjamin leads the annual BGSA Supply Chain conference, the largest annual conference for CEOs from all segments of the global supply chain.

Benjamin Gordon is also an active civic leader who is committed to giving back to the community. As Founder and Chairman of GesherCity, a Jewish community and philanthropy group for young adults, he has boosted young adult volunteerism, expanding the organization to over 100,000 members in twenty locations. He has also served on several non-proﬁt boards, including Palm Beach United Way, the JCCA, and the Middle East Forum.

Benjamin received a Masters in Business Administration from Harvard Business School and a Bachelor of Arts degree from Yale College.

Where did the idea for BG Strategic Advisors come from?

As I was building my ﬁrst company, 3PLex, I got called on by a lot of investment bankers, venture capital ﬁrms, and private equity ﬁrms. I was struck by the fact that most of them didn’t really seem to understand logistics and supply chain. So I thought, “Why not start a merchant bank focused on logistics?” In 2002, I started BG Strategic Advisors. In the beginning, I ran it from my apartment in Cambridge. Since we didn’t have an ofﬁce yet, we held meetings in the Charles Hotel. It was a scrappy startup, just like 3PLex, but this time I self-funded it and we were proﬁtable from year one!

Over the course of time, we had the privilege of working with a lot of terriﬁc companies, including NFI, GENCO, UPS, Kuehne & Nagel, New Breed, and others. We worked on over 50 deals. Then, I eventually decided that I wanted to get back into building companies, as opposed to just advising them. I realized that I could be a founder, or I could invest in businesses that others had founded. The latter was more scalable. So I started investing in logistics, supply chain, and technology companies. To do so, I established Cambridge Capital. I started by putting my money where my mouth is, and investing my own capital ﬁrst. Over time we’ve brought in partners.

Over the last decade, I’ve had the good fortune to invest in more terriﬁc companies. XPO was founded by Brad Jacobs. Its ﬁrst platform, Express-1, was a small company that Brad built through organic growth and acquisitions. It’s now a publicly-traded company with an enterprise value of more than $10 billion. Grand Junction was a startup founded by Rob Howard. He had

the idea of building a technology platform to help retailers give their customers a better last- mile solution. Target ended up buying the company. These are just two examples.

Our goal is to help companies by bringing more than money. We work hard to bring expertise to our companies where we can, leveraging our industry knowledge, technology experience, networks of talented executives, access to potential customers, and more.

What does your typical day look like and how do you make it productive?

On most days, I wake up at 6am. I meditate for 5 minutes to clear my mind then spend 10 minutes scanning my inbox and responding to the most urgent/important issues. I work out for 30-60 minutes, typically either swimming/biking/running. And I start work with our daily huddle at 8:45am, inspired by Verne Harnish’s “Rockefeller Habits” model.

Over the course of the day, I schedule as much as possible. That makes it easier to focus visually on what I have to do. Also, it allows me to control my time allocations to match my priorities.

I also rely heavily on email. Since I can read and write faster than I can talk, it’s more efﬁcient. I try to follow the “Getting Things Done” strategy. Touch emails once (reply, forward, or delete, with a clear action). Make the subject lines clear. Process ruthlessly!

When allocating my time, I try to focus on three questions:

Is it important?

Does it require my involvement, or can someone else handle it? Does it need action now, or can it wait?

How do you bring ideas to life?

I read a lot. I try to read a book a week. The last book I read was “Red Notice” by Bill Browder. It tells the story of how a young strategy consultant discovered the brave new world of Eastern European privatizations in the 1990s and ended up building the biggest investment ﬁrm in Russia. It was inspiring to see how Browder went to Poland ﬁrst and Russia second, with an open mind and a readiness to apply what he learned in the U.S. in a new market where the rules were different. It was also depressing to see how the Russian oligarchs and a corrupt bureaucracy fought him, ultimately driving him out of the country and murdering his lawyer. But it was uplifting to see Browder pivot into the next chapter of his life, as a human rights activist who championed the Magnitsky Act and continues to ﬁght for justice today.

“Red Notice” helped me generate ideas for looking in emerging markets for hidden jewels in the logistics world. I’m working on one right now!

What’s one trend that excites you?

I am very excited about the intersection of transportation and technology. That’s been a major theme throughout my career. One big driver is ACES: Autonomous, Connected, Electric, and Sharing economy. We are seeing lots of fantastic businesses emerging out of these technologies. For instance, Grand Junction succeeded by connecting drivers with retailers through a technology platform and a sharing economy model. Bringg and DeliveryCircle have similar advantages, albeit in different but complementary areas.

I believe electric vehicles will come to dominate not just passenger cars, but also trucking. Over the next decade, we will see a massive shift.

What is one habit of yours that makes you more productive as an entrepreneur?

I try to abide by the one-touch rule. When I get an email, I try to respond in a way that gets to closure. You can lose a lot of time with email back-and-forth chains. If possible, I try to give a clear and quick answer: yes, no, or depends on X. If you can reduce your touches, you can spend your time more productively!

What advice would you give your younger self?

Invest in the things that make you better. Reading has a multiplier effect. So does exercise, because it makes you better in other dimensions. And so does surrounding yourself with A+ people, in all areas of life. They can challenge you and make you better!

Tell us something that’s true that almost nobody agrees with you on.

Self-driving trucks will dominate the industry within a decade. Everyone talks about self-driving cars, but it’s already happening in trucks. Komatsu can run trucks in the mines of Australia without drivers. Driverless forklifts are already appearing in warehouses. People are petriﬁed about the idea of a runaway truck driven by a machine that misses an important action. But this isn’t the Windows “Blue Screen of Death.” Computer-powered trucks are going through extremely rigorous testing, and will soon be ready for the road.

Also, while it’s true that self-driving trucks aren’t perfect, it is important to note that neither are humans. Tragically, 50,000 people a year die from car and truck accidents. Almost all of those fatalities are caused by human error. If machines can cut that by 90%, we might still have 5,000 fatalities a year. That would be terrible, but far better than the status quo.

Self-driving trucks can be implemented more effectively than self-driving cars, because they can be managed by companies. In sum, the driverless future will come to trucks ﬁrst.

As an entrepreneur, what is the one thing you do over and over and recommend everyone else do?

Follow through. People value you when they know they can count on you. Always do what you say, so people know your word is meaningful. I can’t stress that enough.

When I started BG Strategic Advisors, our ﬁrst client was a company called Air-Road Express. The CEO asked us to sell their company. We put together a plan and timetable. It called for getting the deal done in 4 months. In hindsight, this was a mistake. Your average M&A assignment often takes 6-9 months from start to ﬁnish. But we made a commitment, and we had to ﬁgure out how to deliver on it. There were a lot of late nights, early mornings, interrupted family dinners, and last-minute trips. But it all worked out. In the end, we not only got it done in 4 months, but we also exceeded the CEO’s value expectations.

That CEO, in turn, became a vital reference for our little company as we started to grow. It all revolved around demonstrating that we did what we said, and earning trust.

What is one strategy that has helped you grow your business?

My strategy has been to be narrowly focused. In our ﬁrst decade, we were strictly focused on transportation, logistics, and supply chain technology. We could have taken on many more clients, but we decided that being known in our ﬁeld would pay dividends down the road.

HBS Professor Michael Porter liked to say that strategy is about saying no. If you don’t say no often enough, then you spread yourself too thin. We try to maintain that dictum. Over time, as we’ve expanded our ﬁrm, our scope has expanded a little. But we still try to keep our focus tight.

What is one failure you had as an entrepreneur, and how did you overcome it?

I’ve had lots of failures! But the failures are what make you better, assuming you learn from them.

When I started 3PLex, we had a great idea. But we tried to do too much too quickly. We started with the idea of building a TMS to automate logistics. Then we added a combinatoric engine to enable companies to bid on bundles of lanes. And we also added a drayage management system. Three products was too much for one startup. We burned through a lot of money before we ﬁgured that out. I wish we had ﬁgured it out much sooner.

In the end, ironically, the product that we spent the least time and money on, in drayage, was the one that Maersk wanted.

The lesson was to listen to your customers, and ruthlessly simplify to focus on what matters.

What is one business idea that you’re willing to give away to our readers?

Think about how you can combine new technologies to augment classic business models.

For instance, every retailer in the world is trying to improve their last-mile solution to compete with Amazon. If they fail in this one area, they could fail outright. There is a fortune awaiting the company that ﬁgures out how best to do this.

Can you use drones, or warehouse automation, or other technology, to deliver a solution that is equal or better than Amazon Prime? If you can ﬁgure that out, you have a tremendous opportunity.

How Amazon Disrupts Logistics: Chapter 4 in the Benjamin Gordon Cambridge Capital Series: View Here https://issuu.com/benjamin.gordon/docs/how_amazon_disrupts_logistics__chapter_4_in_the_be

What is the best $100 you recently spent? What and why?

I bought a Fitbit for my kids on Tuesday. They are wonderful children, but they also love reading (or acting, singing, and watching) more than exercising. For the last three days, they have been running through the house and in the backyard, counting their steps!

The old saying is true: What gets measured gets done!

What is one piece of software or a web service that helps you be productive?

We all use email. But one thing I’ve found particularly helpful was a typing class I took when I was in middle school. Being able to type fast might have seemed like a job for a secretary at

one point. Today, it’s a competitive advantage for anyone who is in business.

What is the one book that you recommend our community should read and why?

“Lend Me Your Ears” by William Saﬁre. It is a collection of the most inspirational speeches in world history.

Start with the uplifting words from Shakespeare’s Marc Antony that inspired Saﬁre’s title, “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” You can think of this speech as great literature, which it is. You can also think of it as enjoyable to read, which it also is. But as an entrepreneur, you can consider these words the foundation for a persuasive call to action.

Any great leader, whether in politics, business, or elsewhere, should have these powerful communication tools at his or her disposal.

What is your favorite quote?

In the “Sayings of the Fathers,” also known as the “Pirkei Avot,” Hillel said this: “When a man is needed and there is no man, strive to be that man.” Putting gender neutrality aside, this quote captures the essence of leadership to me.

What Hillel is saying is this: when you ﬁnd yourself in a situation that calls for action, and you see nobody else stepping up to take on that responsibility, then the choice lies with you. Will you take the reins, or will you let the opportunity pass?

I believe great leaders, great business people, and great human beings all ﬁnd ways to live in accordance with this moral precept. Think about Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Sharansky, and others in activism. And think about Jobs, Gates, Musk, and others in entrepreneurship. In all cases, great leaders saw a need and realized that it was up to them to address it. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

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#Benjamin Gordon #Benjamin Gordon Cambridge Capital #Benjamin Gordon Palm Beach

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josidel · 7 years

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Flat-Earth Rocket Scientist Reschedules Launch Data.

Self-taught rocket scientist "Mad" Mike Hughes won't allow a little red tape to get in the way of his green light for a launch.

All systems go for his rescheduled steam-powered rocket attempt -- in his view, at least.

The 61-year-old limo driver who believes Earth is flat plans to climb into his homemade vessel Monday and rocket 1 mile over the ghost town of Amboy, California. He was scheduled to blast off last weekend, but he didn't have the proper permits from the Bureau of Land Management.

He's relocated his launch pad about 4 miles from its original spot so he takes off and lands on private property.

It may not be enough. The BLM said he still needs to fill out the permits. Hughes contends that shouldn't be required since he's flying on private land and has permission.

"I'm moving forward," Hughes said Tuesday. "I'm a daredevil. I'm not much for authority or rules."

In the meantime, he keeps readying his rocket in the Mojave Desert and sleeping in a motor home that doubles as his rocket launcher. He still can't quite wrap his mind around how his project has generated so much buzz. He's been contacted by news outlets from all over the globe.

"This is all just nuts, but I guess it's supposed to be," said Hughes, who will televise the launch on his YouTube channel and doesn't want spectators to show up out of safety concerns. "I've had people say so much, that I'm a fraud. I've had people email me and say, 'You're going to die.' I even had one woman ask me if we were all going to die on (launch day). But I've also had so much support. It's just crazy."

His original intention was this: Set up his rocket that's built out of salvage parts and launch on an air strip next to a dilapidated hangar. He said a verbal agreement he received from the BLM a year ago fell through at the last moment.

With no permit, his mission was postponed.

"The BLM has a permitting process for recreational activity on public lands," BLM spokesman Stephen Razo said in an email. "Mr. Hughes has been made aware of this process by the local field office and stands ready to work with Mr. Hughes on his permit like any other once we receive an official permit request from him."

Hughes said BLM representatives have since visited his location to check how things are going.

"They've been very nice to me. I have no animosity," said Hughes , who transported his rocket to Amboy late last week, with his vehicle breaking down numerous times during the 100-mile trek. "Things come up and I expect things to come up. ... I understand it."

Not everyone does.

His beliefs that the world is flat and there's "no difference between science and science fiction" have added another dimension to the reaction to Hughes and his plans.

"When I am in space, it is a sphere. It is a curve. The Earth is not flat," said retired NASA astronaut and doctor Jerry Linenger, who orbited the globe more than 2000 times during four months in 1997. "I circled it every 90 minutes and it is a real thing."

As for the amateur rocket launch?

"Good luck, I hope he doesn't blow something up," Linenger said. "Rocketry, as our private space companies found out, isn't as easy as it looks."

Hughes has permission to be on the property from Albert Okura, who purchased the rights to Amboy in 2005 for $435,000. Hughes' new spot for a launch isn't exactly ideal, though.

For starters, he had to dig ditches to level the rocket launcher, with three of the four tires now resting in holes. He's in the process of raising the 57-foot ramp, which takes about two days. He hopes to begin heating the rocket on Saturday morning.

"We're almost all set," he said.

Hughes assembled his contraption at the "Rocket Ranch" in Apple Valley, California, a five-acre property he leases. He found the aluminum for his rocket in metal shops and constructed the rocket nozzle out of an aircraft air filter. His project has cost him roughly $20,000, which includes the motor home he bought on Craigslist that he converted into a ramp.

Since his announcements, he's received all sorts of comments, including someone posting on social media: "He'll be fine" with a picture of the cartoon character Wile E. Coyote strapped to a rocket.

He takes it all in stride.

"I'm not chickening out. But I'm not going to get into this (rocket) until it is right," Hughes said. "I think the world needs this ��" somebody out there to question everything, and put their money where their mouth is and put it all on the line. This is like the World Series of Poker and I'm all-in."

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thedeadshotnetwork · 7 years

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The Obscure 4chan Religion That Promises a Cyberpunk Afterlife If you or someone you know is considering suicide, help is available. Call 1-800-273-8255 to speak with someone now or text START to 741741 to message with the Crisis Text Line. In January 2017 a mysterious 4channer named Tsuki started a cult that promised to take members to a cyberpunk paradise. The only catch was they had to die to get there. As with all instances of internet creepypasta , it's hard to tell if Tsuki is really an “anime suicide cult,” a 4chan prank, or just a harmless game of make believe. In the past decade 4chan has served as a digital tide pool for subcultures, forming them in the safety of internet anonymity before they appear, fully-mobilized, in meatspace. From Anonymous to the alt-right, the power these groups exert over the political landscape has been felt the world over. But in the past year, a new 4chan community has emerged that less resembles a social movement than it does Heaven’s Gate , the UFO cult whose mass suicide made headlines around the world in 1997. Systemspace, an internet religion led by Tsuki, promises some 4,969 followers, or “migrants,” that they’ll be transported to a cyberpunk elysium after death. Called “an anime suicide cult ” and an attempt by 4chan to “troll people into suicide” on Reddit, Systemspace has been the subject of many YouTube conspiracies . According to Systemspace’s scripture, an online document called “ The Compendium ,” it’s an online group that believes the Universe is comprised of countless “systems” or alternate dimensions coded into existence in much the same way a programmer creates a virtual-reality simulation. Humanity, The Compendium explains, lives in a system called “Life” that is in the process of breaking down because of faulty code. Tsuki, the messianic leader of the Systemspace movement, claimed to have the ability to transfer registrants’ souls to a superior, cyberpunk dimension called “LFE” if they signed up to the Tuski Project website before July 1, 2017. LFE deeply resembles Ninsei, a cyberspace universe characters from William Gibson’s seminal 1984 novel Neuromancer jack into to escape the cumbersome “meat” of their physical bodies. In LFE, according to Tsuki Wiki , “you can do whatever you want” and “everyone is important.” The 9.4×10^28 souls that live there, most of which speak a language called Synapsian , are made up of an “uncountable” number of species and subspecies, including magical beings like demons and angels. When I asked Systemspace members in their Discord chat, “Tsuki Overground,” what they pictured when they imagined LFE, one member, Varz, said the cyberpunk dimension is “like a futuristic Tokyo, think the world of Ghost in the Shell. ” Another, Migrant 4858, picture LFE as “massive sprawling cities” with “beautiful views.” Though it sounds like an elaborate online role-playing community reminiscent of the MUDs (multi-user dungeons) of the early 1990s, every Systemspace “migrant” that I asked assured me that it was most certainly not a game and was indeed a real belief system. It seems that, as with most religions, Systemspace’s appeal springs from its promise of an afterlife. Visions of paradise throughout the ages have always reflected people's needs. At the time the stories of Abrahamic religions took shape, people were primarily concerned with disease and starvation, so heaven promised an end to both. LFE, then, can be thought of as an afterlife that caters to the fears of anonymity and loneliness central to late-stage capitalism. Tsuki promises that in his sprawling techno-fantasy nirvana , "everyone is important” and in control of their own destiny. United with their image board brethren in LFE, migrants, mostly recruited from 4chan, will no longer be societal outcasts. In fact, the sense of belonging the Tsuki Project forums and chatrooms provide seem as great as an attraction to migrants as the promise of LFE. “We [...] love the community around it,” explained Varz. But looking at the Reddit and 4chan threads that, according to the Tsuki Project timeline , started it all, a darker side of Systemspace emerges. Tsuki first got the internet’s attention on January 19 when he submitted a Reddit post called “My daydream tells me to die before August 28” in which he described how his fantasy world told him that he must complete suicide to “initialise the destruction of life." Later that month, Tsuki expressed fears that a therapist might put him on anti-psychotics because of “a second world” he claimed had been growing in his head since the age of 12, a world that he could no longer distinguish from real life. Commenters initially responded with concern , telling Tsuki, who professed to being a 16-year-old male living in the Netherlands , to seek professional help. But in the next 4chan thread the tone shifted dramatically; people began to literally sign their souls over to Tsuki in hopes that they may be transferred upon death. “You will be transported as long as you die any time after the 1st of July, 2017,” Tsuki assured them. “Dying of old age included, but suicide also included.” Registration for the Tsuki project closed after that date. The site has since been taken down, though a mirror exists here . Migrant 4858 told me that several migrants were rumored to have killed themselves in order to transcend to LFE. “I mean it’s up 2 them [sic],” 4858 explained. “I wouldn’t stop any of them, since LFE is waiting on the other side.” 4858 went on to tell me that because it is an entirely internet-based community there is no way to confirm the rumored suicides. Motherboard was unable to corroborate said rumors and has no reason to believe they're true. According to Rick Alan Ross, executive director of the Cult Education Institute , the Tsuki Project is just one example of a disturbing trend that began with the internet. “What the Tsuki Project demonstrates is how easy it is to establish a Web presence without identifying who you are and remaining completely anonymous,” Ross told me over email. “Thousands of people becoming involved with little if any meaningful historical facts and objective information about the site creator.” Besides, the internet has long been a place where dangerous or toxic movements are formed simply for “the lulz.” Take the Blue Whale Challenge , for example, a sadistic social media “joke” that has led to the arrest of one of its inventors for inciting the suicide of at least 16 teenage girls . Since its beginning, the Tsuki Project morphed into creepypasta lore, attracting voyeurs and trolls from all corners of the web. But the migrants I spoke to had a different explanation for how the project came to its current state. One migrant, Tech Priest Silicon, said he believed that Tsuki never expected so many people to sign up and quickly started panicking, worried he’d go to jail over people actually taking their own lives. For that reason, according to Tech Priest Silicon, Tsuki has all but disappeared from the forums and chatrooms that cropped up around his fantasy world. Self-proclaimed believers in LFE say they still hold on to the sense of community they found through the Tsuki Project. “There is a reason we are hostile to outsiders,” a migrant called Femto, told me. “This community is special and we don't want it ruined” November 27, 2017 at 03:02PM

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