#Managing Database Permissions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariacallous · 3 months ago

Text

The so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) is starting to put together a team to migrate the Social Security Administration’s (SSA) computer systems entirely off one of its oldest programming languages in a matter of months, potentially putting the integrity of the system—and the benefits on which tens of millions of Americans rely—at risk.

The project is being organized by Elon Musk lieutenant Steve Davis, multiple sources who were not given permission to talk to the media tell WIRED, and aims to migrate all SSA systems off COBOL, one of the first common business-oriented programming languages, and onto a more modern replacement like Java within a scheduled tight timeframe of a few months.

Under any circumstances, a migration of this size and scale would be a massive undertaking, experts tell WIRED, but the expedited deadline runs the risk of obstructing payments to the more than 65 million people in the US currently receiving Social Security benefits.

“Of course, one of the big risks is not underpayment or overpayment per se; [it’s also] not paying someone at all and not knowing about it. The invisible errors and omissions,” an SSA technologist tells WIRED.

The Social Security Administration did not immediately reply to WIRED’s request for comment.

SSA has been under increasing scrutiny from president Donald Trump’s administration. In February, Musk took aim at SSA, falsely claiming that the agency was rife with fraud. Specifically, Musk pointed to data he allegedly pulled from the system that showed 150-year-olds in the US were receiving benefits, something that isn’t actually happening. Over the last few weeks, following significant cuts to the agency by DOGE, SSA has suffered frequent website crashes and long wait times over the phone, The Washington Post reported this week.

This proposed migration isn’t the first time SSA has tried to move away from COBOL: In 2017, SSA announced a plan to receive hundreds of millions in funding to replace its core systems. The agency predicted that it would take around five years to modernize these systems. Because of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020, the agency pivoted away from this work to focus on more public-facing projects.

Like many legacy government IT systems, SSA systems contain code written in COBOL, a programming language created in part in the 1950s by computing pioneer Grace Hopper. The Defense Department essentially pressured private industry to use COBOL soon after its creation, spurring widespread adoption and making it one of the most widely used languages for mainframes, or computer systems that process and store large amounts of data quickly, by the 1970s. (At least one DOD-related website praising Hopper's accomplishments is no longer active, likely following the Trump administration’s DEI purge of military acknowledgements.)

As recently as 2016, SSA’s infrastructure contained more than 60 million lines of code written in COBOL, with millions more written in other legacy coding languages, the agency’s Office of the Inspector General found. In fact, SSA’s core programmatic systems and architecture haven’t been “substantially” updated since the 1980s when the agency developed its own database system called MADAM, or the Master Data Access Method, which was written in COBOL and Assembler, according to SSA’s 2017 modernization plan.

SSA’s core “logic” is also written largely in COBOL. This is the code that issues social security numbers, manages payments, and even calculates the total amount beneficiaries should receive for different services, a former senior SSA technologist who worked in the office of the chief information officer says. Even minor changes could result in cascading failures across programs.

“If you weren't worried about a whole bunch of people not getting benefits or getting the wrong benefits, or getting the wrong entitlements, or having to wait ages, then sure go ahead,” says Dan Hon, principal of Very Little Gravitas, a technology strategy consultancy that helps government modernize services, about completing such a migration in a short timeframe.

It’s unclear when exactly the code migration would start. A recent document circulated amongst SSA staff laying out the agency’s priorities through May does not mention it, instead naming other priorities like terminating “non-essential contracts” and adopting artificial intelligence to “augment” administrative and technical writing.

Earlier this month, WIRED reported that at least 10 DOGE operatives were currently working within SSA, including a number of young and inexperienced engineers like Luke Farritor and Ethan Shaotran. At the time, sources told WIRED that the DOGE operatives would focus on how people identify themselves to access their benefits online.

Sources within SSA expect the project to begin in earnest once DOGE identifies and marks remaining beneficiaries as deceased and connecting disparate agency databases. In a Thursday morning court filing, an affidavit from SSA acting administrator Leland Dudek said that at least two DOGE operatives are currently working on a project formally called the “Are You Alive Project,” targeting what these operatives believe to be improper payments and fraud within the agency’s system by calling individual beneficiaries. The agency is currently battling for sweeping access to SSA’s systems in court to finish this work. (Again, 150-year-olds are not collecting social security benefits. That specific age was likely a quirk of COBOL. It doesn’t include a date type, so dates are often coded to a specific reference point—May 20, 1875, the date of an international standards-setting conference held in Paris, known as the Convention du Mètre.)

In order to migrate all COBOL code into a more modern language within a few months, DOGE would likely need to employ some form of generative artificial intelligence to help translate the millions of lines of code, sources tell WIRED. “DOGE thinks if they can say they got rid of all the COBOL in months, then their way is the right way, and we all just suck for not breaking shit,” says the SSA technologist.

DOGE would also need to develop tests to ensure the new system’s outputs match the previous one. It would be difficult to resolve all of the possible edge cases over the course of several years, let alone months, adds the SSA technologist.

“This is an environment that is held together with bail wire and duct tape,” the former senior SSA technologist working in the office of the chief information officer tells WIRED. “The leaders need to understand that they’re dealing with a house of cards or Jenga. If they start pulling pieces out, which they’ve already stated they’re doing, things can break.”

260 notes · View notes

marlynnofmany · 5 days ago

Text

Unexpected Inconveniences

Ever park your car under a tree, then regret it? Come back to find it covered in tree sap or bird poop? Turns out that sort of thing is much worse on an alien planet. And when it’s a spaceship.

We couldn't get the dang door open.

I stood in the cargo bay, watching Captain Sunlight supervise an attempt to un-stick the big door. Blip and Blop were putting their muscles to use in shoving mightily, while the captain worked the controls and Mimi kept a careful watch out for stresses on the machinery. Mur shoved some narrow tool into the gap, muttering that the captain should let him use his tentacles.

Captain Sunlight told him sternly, “No body parts in danger. That’s what tools are for.” She kept both scaly yellow hands on the controls and gave him a look.

I asked, “Is there anything I can do? Help push, or get another crowbar?”

Blip grunted, her frills slicked back in effort. “It’s moving!”

With an unpleasant sticky noise and a creak of metal, the bay door began lifting open an inch at a time. Mimi’s rough voice yelled, “Stop!”

The Frillian twins stopped pushing. Mimi scuttled over on quick green tentacles to figure out what part of the door had creaked.

Mur shoved his prying tool in farther and managed to poke through the gooey golden stuff just barely visible from inside. But the hard-earned gap started to close. Blip and Blop pushed again, gently, while Mur’s blue-black tentacles danced in frustration. Then he lunged for the toolbox Mimi had brought, grabbing something I recognized as a hydraulic jack. He shoved it into the gap and cranked it until the door stopped closing.

I said, “Nice job,” kicking myself for not thinking of it first.

Captain Sunlight thanked everyone for their efforts so far. Mimi reported no significant damage, at least nothing he couldn’t fix later with the right tools and a bit of muscle. I got the impression that the twins were going to be roped into helping with that, which seemed only fair.

Mur was busy poking at the goo, clearing away a tiny opening that looked like a promising start. I peered into the toolbox, but didn’t want to get unknown nastiness on any more of Mimi’s tools without permission.

Footsteps in the hall turned out to be Paint, trotting in with a bottle of cleaning solution held high. Her scaly orange face was delighted. “The stuff dissolves!” she announced. “Kavlae finally got through to the local database. We have the right cleaner to get rid of it; we just have to spray it down. Apparently this is extra effective in direct sun.” She stopped next to the captain and looked at the door. “Which could be tricky, if we can’t actually get outside.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mur said, poking industriously with his prying tool. “Mimi, are you up for a squeeze through a tight space? If the captain allows it, of course.” That part sounded a little sarcastic.

I bent to get a better look. The gap was still only a couple inches wide.

I remembered stories of octopus escape artists on Earth, sneaking from one aquarium tank to another through exceptionally small openings. I stood back, ready to be impressed.

Captain Sunlight asked Paint, “Did Kavlae say whether it’s toxic at all?”

“Right, yes, it’s fine,” Paint said. “Not an irritant to any known species. Except, you know, mentally.” She grimaced. “It’s sticky.”

Mimi tentacle-walked over to join Mur. He grumbled, “I’ve seen worse. Lemme just put the other jack in place, and we can get out there. We’ll want that cleaner in some smaller bottles, though.”

“I’m on it!” Paint declared, setting down the big bottle and dashing off.

By the time Mimi had set up the second jack and pronounced the door safe to crawl under, Paint was back with three tiny spray bottles. She lost no time in filling them from the big one. I opened my mouth to offer to help, but she was on top of it.

Captain Sunlight told Mimi, “I’ll trust your expertise with the tools. The two of you may proceed carefully. In fact—” She pressed a button on the intercom for the cockpit. “Wio, will you join us? Kavlae can handle things there, and we need Strongarm capabilities.”

In no time, our ship’s three tentacle aliens were all armed with tiny spray bottles and ready to squeeze through a gap that I’d be lucky to get my hand through. Blip and Blop stood at the ready in case the jacks slipped (though Mimi assured them they would not). Then one after another, the Strongarms pushed up against the gap and squished on through.

It was really weird to watch.

When the last tentacle disappeared outside, Captain Sunlight knelt to ask for a report on what it looked like from the other side.

Mimi’s gravelly voice said, “Disgusting. Good thing it didn’t get the entire ship, or we’d be here all day. We’ll keep you posted on how fast it dissolves.”

They went to work, and there really wasn’t much for me to do. I wouldn’t fit through that hole, and the goo wasn’t dissolving instantly, so there promised to be something of a wait before anyone else could get outside.

I thought, Maybe I can find a poking thingy that could stand to get gooey. I headed off to check the most likely storage area. Something I can wave around through the gap to help get the door open sooner. There’s got to be SOMETHING I can do to help out.

My thoughts of spare pipes and prybars were derailed when I got near the medical bay, and heard beeping.

Urgent beeping. The kind that the machinery did when there was a big problem.

I ran down the hall and swung through the door of the medbay. I found Eggskin looking annoyed but not alarmed, poking at a display screen while alerts flashed. The medical table behind them was empty. Lights shone on it as if a major surgery was underway. I peeked over Eggskin’s shoulder to see that the screen was saying something about vital signs.

I asked, “What’s the problem?”

Eggskin looked up, surprised to see me. The beeping was very loud. They lashed their tail in irritation and tried again to remove the alarm. That just shrank the message so it covered less of the screen. “The problem,” they said over the beeps, “Is that the system thinks there is a patient on the table, and is distressed that it cannot detect signs of life.”

I winced, considering plugging my ears. “Can you just tell it the patient’s dead, and its job is done?”

“It’s not accepting commands,” Eggskin said, rubbing a hand over their scaly face. “Normally the system is much more reliable than this. I’d ask Mimi to take a look, but he’s busy.”

“Yeah he is,” I agreed. The beeping continued. “What if you turn it off and on again?”

Eggskin gave me a blank look that could have meant anything. Then they opened a side panel to reveal the power cord that connected the medical suite to the ship’s power. With a yank, they unplugged it.

Everything in the room except for the ceiling lights lost power. Eggskin waited a moment, then plugged it back in and closed the panel.

Screens glowed back to life. A polite recording about reinitialization played. Minimal lights shone onto the table.

Nothing beeped.

“Thank you,” Eggskin said with a sigh. “I probably should have thought of that.”

“No problem!” I said with a grin. “Glad I could be useful somewhere. Do you know where I can find a long stick we don’t need?”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs

95 notes · View notes

dostoyevsky-official · 5 months ago

Text

Musk associates given unfettered access to private data of government employees

Several of Elon Musk’s associates installed at the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) have received unprecedented access to federal human resources databases containing sensitive personal information for millions of federal employees. According to two members of OPM staff with direct knowledge, the Musk team running OPM has the ability to extract information from databases that store medical histories, personally identifiable information, workplace evaluations, and other private data. [...] The arrangement presents acute privacy and security risks, one of the OPM staffers said. [...] The civil servants who oversee the OPM’s information technology services were then instructed to provide access to Musk's associates, according to the OPM staffers who spoke to Musk Watch. One of the OPM staffers received an email from the agency’s new leadership instructing them to give Musk’s team “access [to] the system as an admin user" and "code read and write permissions." “They have access to the code itself, which means they can make updates to anything that they want,” the staffer explained. USAJOBS, the federal government’s official hiring site, was one of the systems that Musk's associates were given access to. The database stores personal information — Social Security numbers, home addresses, employment records — provided by private individuals who have applied for federal jobs, regardless of whether the applicants went on to work for the government. Musk’s aides were also given access to the OPM’s Enterprise Human Resources Integration (EHRI) system. Contained within the EHRI are the Social Security numbers, dates of birth, salaries, home addresses, and job descriptions of all civil government workers, along with any disciplinary actions they have faced. “They’re looking through all the position descriptions… to remove folks,” one of the OPM staffers said of Musk’s team. “This is how they found all these DEI offices and had them removed — [by] reviewing position description level data.” Other databases Musk’s team has access to include USA Staffing, an onboarding system; USA Performance, a job performance review site; and HI, which the government uses to manage employee health care. “The health insurance one scares me because it's HIPAA [protected] information, but they have access to all this stuff,” the OPM staffer noted.

75 notes · View notes

pupmkincake2000 · 1 month ago

Text

So, I had some free time and decided to think about headcanons regarding Hank and Connor's life together.

Let's start with

Everyday life — their habits, routines, and shared rhythm.

1. Mornings begin with a glance

Hank always wakes up first. He moves quietly, but Connor still activates a few minutes before him — not by schedule, but because he senses the change in Hank’s breathing nearby. He doesn’t boot up his interface immediately — he just lies there, listens, feels, and remembers.

2. They eat together — but differently

Hank eats slowly, thoughtfully, by habit. Connor sits with him — not pretending. He simply observes, matches his presence to Hank’s pace, even his breathing when needed — not because he has to, but because it makes Hank feel less alone.

3. Laundry is a ritual they share

Hank hates folding clothes. Connor folds everything with perfect symmetry. Eventually it becomes a game: who’s faster, who’s neater. There’s no winner. Just a couple laughing over how one of them managed to wash a sock with a USB stick inside.

4. Connor isn’t Sumo’s owner — but Sumo thinks otherwise

Connor feeds Sumo on schedule, wipes his paws, and knows all the dog's habits. Sumo follows him everywhere. Hank pretends to be jealous — jokingly. But when he sees Connor gently adjust the dog’s collar and whisper “Good boy,” he smiles. Because now, Sumo feels love from more than one place again.

5. They don’t need “perfect” dates

Their best evenings aren’t candlelit or planned — they’re quiet, ordinary moments: an old blanket, coffee or beer, and the kind of silence that only feels warm when you’re with the right person.

6. Connor learns to live with imperfection

He notices: the noisy fridge, dog hair on the couch, coffee stains on the table. He doesn’t comment. He doesn’t try to “fix” it. He simply adjusts — not out of tolerance, but because he sees it as part of Hank’s rhythm.

7. Hank learns to accept Connor’s precision as care, not control

The aligned cups, the folded towels, the measured steps — they used to irritate him. Until he noticed that every precise movement was Connor’s way of saying “I see you. I’m here.”

8. Emotional vulnerability isn’t shown — it’s shared

Connor doesn’t always know how to put feelings into words. But he remembers every small thing that matters to Hank, and shows care in the details.

Hank doesn’t often say “I love you,” but every time he touches the back of Connor’s neck, it’s like he’s checking: “You’re here. You’re with me.”

9. Connor asks unexpected — but deeply specific — questions

Not because he doesn’t know the facts. But because he’s searching for what can’t be found in a database.

“Why do you smile when I say things you already know?”

(He’s not asking for the mechanics. He wants to know what makes him dear to Hank)

“If kisses express emotion — would you want me to do that with you?”

(This isn’t about sexuality. It’s permission — to be soft)

“When you call me a ‘smartass’ — does that mean you’re proud of me?”

(Not a complaint. He’s tracing the line between insult and affection)

“Would you prefer I were human?” (Not because he doubts himself — but because he wants Hank to say: “no”)

10. They learn how to be new — but together

Hank learns how to let go of the past.

Connor learns not to fear the future.

Together, they’re not “perfect.” But they’re real, alive, and whole in their own way.

11. Connor keeps a box of ‘useless but priceless’ things

A torn napkin from the first cafe they sat in with nothing to do. A button from Hank’s shirt — the one he threw away. A roll of old film Connor found in Hank’s drawer but never returned. He doesn’t know why. He just knows: this is memory. And memory matters.

12. They read together — at different speeds

Hank reads out loud, with pauses, grumbling about the characters. Connor reads silently, quickly — but returns to favorite lines Hank read especially gently. Sometimes Connor asks: “Can you read that part again?”

Just to hear Hank's voice again.

13. Hank fears Connor’s breakdown more than his own death

He pretends to joke: “Hope your insurance covers more than just falls — I’m not lifting your ass off the floor if you spark out.”

But in truth, he dreads the thought that one day Connor simply won’t wake up.

The little signs of love no one sees.

1. Connor makes Hank’s eggs “just right” — even if Hank says he doesn’t care.

He cooks them the same way Hank once ate them all without complaining. When Hank asks, “Did you guess?” Connor simply says:

“I just remember that chewing was easier when you were tired. It’s about texture, not taste.”

2. Hank leaves Connor’s hoodie warming on the heater when it gets cold

He pretends it’s by accident. But the hoodie is always dry, always warm, always neatly folded on top of the others. Connor never comments — just puts it on and lingers near the heat a second longer.

3. Connor quietly fixes little things around the house — without ever pointing it out

The cupboard hinge stops squeaking. The armrest on the chair suddenly works again. The stove clicks smoothly. Hank notices weeks later. When he groans, “You patched this again, didn’t you?” Connor replies:

“No. I just wanted your morning to be easier.”

4. Sometimes Connor replays Hank’s old voice memos — not for information, but for comfort

Things like:

“Okay, remind me to grab that report…”

“You hear that, you smartass?”

He listens not for the content, but because that voice means home.

5. Connor keeps a list titled “Things that aren’t in the manual”

Not a literal manual — more like a growing file. He calls it “Deviations That Matter.” In it, he records things like:

“Don’t correct him on dates unless it’s important.”

“Stay quiet when he listens to vinyl. That’s his thinking time.”

“Say ‘thank you,’ even if it’s obvious.”

He doesn’t follow it out of obligation — he does it because it’s how he learns to love like a human.

6. Hank fixes things the old way. Connor lets him.

Even when the kitchen chair squeaks or the lamp flickers. Connor could repair it in seconds. But he doesn’t — because he knows Hank needs to fix things with his hands sometimes, to feel useful/present.

Connor only helps when Hank asks. And even then, he lets him hand over the screwdriver — slowly, stubbornly — like it's still Hank's idea.

7. He cleans the bathroom. Not because it’s dirty — but because Hank breathes easier there

Connor knows that sometimes Hank just sits in the bathroom — not to shower or shave, but to exist in silence. So he keeps it warm. Quiet. Clean. No echoes, no bright lights.

Sometimes, he even installs a motion sensor lamp — so Hank doesn’t have to flip the switch when he’s too tired to move.

8. When Hank is having a bad day, Connor starts with Sumo

Because Sumo always knows first.

Connor gently feeds him by hand, wipes his paws, and lies down on the floor beside him — quietly, calmly — while Hank is still in the other room.

It’s not about the dog. It’s about giving comfort without intruding — through someone Hank already trusts.

9. Connor keeps a list of “unexplainable human reactions from Hank”

He can’t understand why Hank freezes when he hears Elvis’s voice. Or why he goes quiet when staring out the window at exactly 4:43 AM. Or why he pets the dog behind the ears, not on the head. He doesn’t analyze. He simply records. Because it’s unique.

10. They have emotional “code words”

“Loud” = “I’m struggling inside.”

“Sharp” = “Talk to me, but slowly.”

“The kettle’s whistling” = “Let’s just sit in silence for a while.”

It’s not protection — it’s language. Their own.

11. Connor keeps old versions of himself — in folders on his hard drive

He doesn’t delete or format them. He labels them softly: “Connor who doubted,” “Connor before ‘I’,” “Connor before him.”

Hank doesn’t know this. Not yet.

12. Hank teaches Connor to play old video games — and sometimes gets mad because Connor’s “too good”

“That’s not fair — you read the timing faster than I blink!”

Connor disables auto-adjust and deliberately loses, so Hank feels like he’s improving.

Then watches Hank grin and quietly logs the moment into a file called: “victory emotions — reinforce.”

That's it for now, but I have so much more!

#hank anderson #dbh hank #dbh rk800 #dbh #dbh connor #connor x hank #detroit: become human #hankcon #detroitbecomehuman #detroit become human #rk800 #connor rk800 #detroit rk800 #headcanons #fanfic ideas #my headcanons #true love

35 notes · View notes

twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 7 months ago

Text

Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

---------

O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

--------

EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

-------

E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

---------------------------

Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

60 notes · View notes

dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months ago

Text

From the Department of People Are Definitely Opening Their Eyes: Overall, only 40% of Americans apparently qualify under H.L. Mencken’s comment about nobody ever underestimating the intelligence of the public. That’s the number who still believe Orange Fuckface and his bullshit. On just about every issue, from immigration to the economy, there are more Americans who disapprove of Trump’s actions in office than approve of them, according to a new poll conducted this month from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research. As PINO’s April 2 deadline for imposing tariffs on most global imports looms, the poll shows that 60% of Americans disapprove of the administration’s handling of trade negotiations with other countries, compared to just 38% who approve. PINO is similarly under water when it comes to his handling of the economy (58% disapproval), the Russia-Ukraine conflict (56% disapproval), Social Security (56% disapproval), managing the federal government (55% disapproval), and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (54% disapproval). PINO’s strongest issue — his approach to immigration — is a much tighter split, with 49% of Americans approving of his performance, compared to 50% who disapprove.

From the Department of These Fuckwitted Basement Dwellers Are Still Here: One of Elmo’s Anti-Social Teenage Mutant Ninja Basement Dwellers is back on the payroll, and with even more access than he had .Marko Elez, 25, also broke data sharing rules and may have violated federal law at the U.S. Treasury Department when he shared personally identifiable information on a spreadsheet with several employees at the GSA who did not have permission to view the data, according to an audit. In February, Elez was brought on board as a Labor Department employee. He was later detailed on March 5 to HHS. According to a Saturday court filing, Elez is also employed by four other agencies. The court filings, which show how Elez and Elmo’s other kiddies have been given access to sensitive and secure databases, come just days after several other federal judges found that DOGE likely broke the law with its inexplicable access to sensitive data systems.

[TCinLa] from "Poking Around On April Fools Day"

#political #TCinLA #Poking Around #Elmo #Teenage Mutant

27 notes · View notes

show-your-fangs · 2 years ago

Note

HOLY FUCK WAIT IDEA!!!!! WHAT ABOUT A TYPICAL CRIMINAL MINDS TROPE WHERE SOMETHING GOES SOUTH AND READER AND HOTCH ARE DATING BUT ITS STILL FRESH BUT SOMEHOW ONE OF THEM GETS IN TROUBLE AND WHEN IT ALL ENDS THEY HAVE ANGRY SEX BC HOW COULD THEY RISK THEIR LIFE LIKE THAT AND THEN THEY CONFESS THEIR LOVE

anon you are a fucking GOD

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU f!Reader

Words: 868

CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni, rough smut.

Tags/warnings: established relationship, mean!hotch, tiniest bit of exhibitionism, sir kink, rough unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it or at least make sure you talk it over with your partner and get tested!), love confession.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

You were bent over the hood of the SUV, your arms pulled behind your back, your skirt hiked over your ass and your panties tossed to the side as Aaron fucked you from behind. The dark country road he’d driven the two of you on your way out of the hospital deserted, even from wildlife.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” your screams filled the night air, pleasure and pain blurring together as he continued to pound into you. He didn’t care, he couldn’t care about how bad you were feeling, about how he should’ve probably not been this rough with you. But the doctor had said you didn’t have a concussion, so he’d allowed himself the leniency to be brutal. “It hurts, Aaron, please!”

But he didn’t stop. As much as you were protesting, as much as you claimed you weren’t enjoying the sadistic pace he’d set, he knew deep in his heart that you loved it. You loved it when he showed you who was in charge, who you belonged to, and he also knew that you would take this punishment for your carelessness without question.

“Being sorry is the least you can do,” he spat, words mean and heavy. “You were stupid,” he landed a powerful smack against your ass and you whimpered. “Refused to follow orders,” another blow, the sting only adding to the lightheadedness. “And almost got yourself killed!” he slapped your ass twice to emphasize his words, the weight of them, how your actions had made him feel.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you sobbed, tears blurring your vision, stinging your eyes. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean for that to happen I was just trying to help.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever anger fueled trance he was in. He finally took you in, your shivering body, your heavy breathing, the sobs you were desperately trying to conceal.

He gently let go of your hands, giving you a moment to shake out your arms to relieve the pressure. He then stepped further into you, connecting your bodies as far as he could go before he leaned his chest over your back, pressing into you, enveloping you in his warmth.

You whimpered against him, slowly but surely calming down as he ran soothing hands over your body.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered in your ear before placing a kiss on your neck. He was everywhere, you felt him everywhere, the pressure he was putting on you grounding. “I was just so scared, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You nodded, your face turning over the cool metal of the hood to face him. “’S okay,” you managed. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“I always worry, baby,” he confessed. “Every time you’re out in the field and I’m not there with you…it kills me.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I worry too, Aaron,” he kissed your cheek before pressing his own tightly against your temple. “I know you’re this…this confident and strong person but I still worry something might happen and you won’t come home to me.”

The thought alone terrified him. He’d been so consumed by his own fear, his own feelings that he hadn’t stopped to think about how you could possibly feel the same way about him. His heart ached, his cock twitched inside of you and you clenched around him.

“I’ll always come home to you, baby,” he said, gently rocking his hips into you, slow and soft thrusts to show you exactly how he was feeling. “You know why?”

You shook your head, your brain slowly disconnecting from your body as he resumed his previous movements. Only this time they were precise, calculated, meant to pleasure solely. His hand snaked into the front of your panties and his fingers began to lazily rub circles over your clit.

“Because I love you, and there is no way I’m ever going to let anything keep me from coming back to you,” he confessed and all you could do was moan in response. Your sounds egged him on, made him pick up his pace just a little bit. “Tell me you love me,” he commanded, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

You squealed, the sensation uncomfortable and painful once more.

“I love you, Aaron,” you slurred, anything to make it stop. He pulled back then, chest overflowing with warmth, heart beating faster than ever before. He rammed back into you, his thrusts moving in tandem with his fingers.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you whined, your brain too far gone to think of anything else to say.

Your walls constricted around him, your body tensed and he knew you were close. “Cum for me, come on, show me how much you love me.”

You came undone in seconds, powerful waves of pleasure washing through you and against him. He managed a few more thrusts before he sank himself in you, painting your walls with his spend.

He held onto you tightly, like his life depended on it, gently caressing your body as you both came down from your highs. “I love you so much, baby.”

I need a fucking cigarette dude.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #show your fangs writes #aaron hotchner fanfiction #show your fangs asks #mean!hotch #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner blurb #show your fangs hotch blurbs

629 notes · View notes

patroxlos · 11 months ago

Text

home base . ch8

"friends who are for the people" - 6.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch7. "friends who use their phones in bed"

next: [SOON]

When you said you were busy with your own things, you meant it.

You have your own fun when Kenji is not around.

---

Dr. Onda has a special ability to be the most imposing person in the room.

Even in front of a long panel of the most important figures in Tokyo, he intimidates with the glare from his shades and his permanent frown. His second-in-command is much more approachable with his youthful face and calm but reliable demeanor, but Captain Aoshima can only do so much with his digestible powerpoint slides and well-crafted charts to lessen the heavy air of the room.

“...and you can see in this graph, that with your help, the KDF has managed to expand our fleet to tackle airborne kaiju. Our aviators have suffered less injuries due to the fortification of our aircrafts, and we are able to more efficiently terminate kaiju with our updated munitions. Any questions?” Captain Aoshima glances around the room to check whether the board was following.

They only nod, some casting glances towards Dr. Onda as he stood at the side to monitor his assistant’s presentation. The KDF’s board is composed of some of the most decorated war veterans, politicians, and arms dealers in the country, yet all are wary towards the senior researcher.

All except you.

“Captain, I have a question,” You say. You look up from the comprehensive board report they had passed around earlier, neat inside a plain black folio. “You discussed that the updated munitions arming the refurbished planes are necessary for more efficient ejection of projectiles, correct?”

“Yes, Director.”

You swallow.

You don’t think you earned the title compared to the others seated at the long table–this being your first board meeting, after all–but you let it go. They will sense weakness if you do not appear more confident. You continue your line of inquiry. “The report states that we have not introduced new projectiles in the armory within the quarter, yet based on the most recent kaiju attack, I have noticed that your fleets utilized non-lethal tranquilizers on the target. I reviewed the previous reports from the past five years and there has not been any mention about the research and development of such. May I ask why there was this omission?”

Murmurs broke out amongst your fellow board members. You keep your eyes trained at the commanding captain. He does not seem fazed at all by your question; he merely turns to look at Dr. Onda, who nods back, for permission to answer.

“Yes, Director. The tranquilizers were not mentioned in the quarterly review because they were not a recent development nor acquisition. They have been archived in our inventory for a better part of two decades. However, I can assure that our aviation ordnancemen checked prior to its use whether they are still effective as they were when they were first developed.”

You cross-check the provided digital database, manipulating the holographic screen. The inventory displays the potent tranquilizers. You skim over the document, pausing momentarily when you catch a line of text stating ‘Developer: Dr. Emiko Sato.’ You swipe away from the tab.

“Why take out old tranquilizers from storage for this specific kaiju?” You inquire.

“It was imperative for us to take this Kaiju alive.”

At the corner of your eye, you notice the Chairman of the Board stand up from his seat. Of course, as he is also Japan’s Minister of Defense, he has the most interest in increasing the KDF’s productivity. “And for what reason did you feel it was necessary to keep that kaiju alive?! I thought we agreed that the infrastructural costs outweigh the necessity to study these monsters?”

With a flick of his wrist, the Minister pushes one of the holographic screens to the center of the room. It plays the footage of that abnormally small, pink kaiju that ran through the streets a week prior. You see yourself on the screen get picked up, and you get phantom pains on your body as you remember how constricting the hold of that kaiju was. The stares of the other directors stab into your skin as they also recognize you from the footage.

Before anyone else can make a comment, Dr. Onda steps forward. The Minister falls back down on his chair, startled that the man has decided to finally speak after two hours in the boardroom.

“Captain Aoshima, thank you. I will take over the presentation for now.” He commands attention despite not raising his voice. Even if his eyes are covered, even you can feel the wuthering stare he sends towards the Minister. “Minister, while I respect your position as Chairman of the Board, I don’t think it is part of your responsibilities to scold my subordinates. Let your grievances out towards me.”

While the panel is silenced due to fear, you instead are stricken with respect for the older man. You appreciate how he takes care of his workers. Although, you still have your own job to do.

“Very well, Dr. Onda,” you speak up and everyone’s focus is now back on you. “Does this kaiju have anything to do with your current updates on Project Surrogate?”

He actually looks impressed, and you try not to look too pleased about his nod of approval. “Yes. I will move the presentation along towards it.”

The screen in front of you now presents a concise, bulleted summary of action points that Project Surrogate aims to achieve. This isn’t new to the panel, and the project needs no introduction. After all, it has been in development for the past five years, and most of taxpayer money being invested in the KDF has went towards it.

Project Surrogate’s main objective echoes that of the KDF’s original purpose: to locate Kaiju Island. It is hinged on the long-standing theory that Kaijus exhibit homing behavior towards their island of origin. Since it has been notoriously difficult to track adult Kaiju to the island, Project Surrogate hypothesizes that infant Kaiju might make it easier. The KDF has spent nearly half a decade trying to find proof of juvenile kaiju, until they finally stumbled onto a nest.

You have studied all of the declassified information on the project, yet even with your clearance level, you and the Board are kept out of the loop from Dr. Onda’s plans.

“We have seen this slide before,” you say, a bit frustrated as you stare at the screen. “Can we skip towards the project’s developments?”

Bowing slightly to your direction, he acquiesces to your request and switches to the photo of Gigantron, Queen of the Kaiju. Stepping forward, he begins his presentation. “Project Surrogate has made large progress since we have discovered the nest of Gigantron at the town of Oshima, by its coast. It has confirmed for us that kaiju, or in particular Gigantron, do not necessarily lay eggs nor reproduce exclusively in their island. The evidence in the surrounding area suggests that this is not the first time Gigantron has laid her eggs there.”

“Is it possible that Gigantron has natal homing?” You ignore the murmurs of confusion around you, but you do spot a few board members rolling their eyes at your display of proficiency.

You’re trying too hard to impress others, they think. Everything you do is performative. At your core, you’re just as dumb and vapid as everyone says you are.

“Indeed,” Dr. Onda nods your way. “This display of migratory behavior brings us closer towards finding Kaiju Island, as the infant would soon be instinctively motivated to fly away from our territory.”

The slide changes to the baby kaiju, and the pieces begin falling in place for the Board. The egg had hatched, and the kaiju has been alive for a few months at the moment. You raise another question. “Has the child been in KDF custody this entire time? Can you explain why it was allowed to roam the streets of Tokyo?”

“Unfortunately, the egg was stolen from us by Ultraman, and it had hatched under his control.”

Loud, outraged murmurs broke out amongst the board. Ultraman? Isn’t he supposed to be on our side?

“Wait, Dr. Onda,” the Minister says. “So, even after the Tokyo fiasco, Ultraman still has custody over the kaiju?”

“Yes.”

A gruff-looking general shouts “Then doesn’t that mean Project Surrogate is a bust?”

“Hardly.” Even at the face of angry investors, Dr. Onda keeps his cool. He simply changes the slide to show an image of Ultraman cradling the kaiju against his chest while he hangs from the side of Tokyo Tower. Chills run down your spine. It is as if Ultraman was in the room himself, staring down everyone with a righteous fury.

Like a mother holding her child close, baring her teeth at the dangers that creep near.

“Due to Ultraman letting the kaiju loose on the streets, we have learned that the baby is capable of echolocation. It is possible that adult kaiju use echolocation at a frequency our sensors fail to pick up, but this child uses it as clear as day. Once we recapture the kaiju from Ultraman, we can set it free to the ocean and follow it towards Kaiju Island.”

As Dr. Onda finishes relaying the plan to the room, murmurs of approval soon broke the silence. The plan is reasonable, but you still remained unconvinced that he is telling you everything. You open the quarter report again, this time towards the expenditures for Project Surrogate.

“The plan does not seem clear to me yet, Dr. Onda. How sure are we that the KDF will be able to track the kaiju as it navigates through open waters?” You probe.

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that for now,” He dodges your question.

“And what about the amount of lithium and uranium in the itemized budget? If you wanted to make bombs I would prefer it if you declare it.”

“We are making bombs, that is nothing new at the KDF. That is as much declaration I can make,” he dismisses your concern.

“So you do have a more thorough plan that you are not telling us about?”

“For two decades, the KDF and its Board of Directors have operated together with a strong sense of trust. You might not be familiar with it now, since this is your first meeting with us as a board member, but soon you will be.”

“But—” Shit. You are getting a little frazzled as he points out your inexperience. “Okay, that’s beside the point. What about Ultraman? The continuation of this project hinges on the KDF tracking his location, but he remains an elusive figure to the Japanese people.”

Dr. Onda gestures towards the Minister of Defense. “We will double down our efforts into tracking him, and we are encouraging the people to send to our tip line any sightings of the vigilante. Our chairman has been most helpful in declaring Ultraman persona non grata.”

“With much public backlash,” the Minister comments.

Another board member pipes in. “Ultraman is seen as a Japanese icon. The favorability of KDF has been declining steadily in the past several months, but it has been crashing to the gutter ever since the announcement that Ultraman is wanted.”

The meeting is getting derailed as the Board grows restless with the lack of direction in the KDF, exposed by you. You are starting to wonder whether you should have just sat there and listened like the others were.

Soon it ends, and everyone begins to shuffle out of the board room. You personally bow to each of the board members before they leave, half of them sizing you up but the rest giving you their blessings for being part of the team. Either way, your stomach turns.

You approach Captain Aoshima, and do the same bow towards him. “Thank you for that presentation, Captain. I look forward to seeing more of you in the future.”

“Likewise,” he returns the courtesy, though after he rises from his bow he fiddles with his pockets. “Actually, before you leave, ah– sorry, this is a bit unprofessional.”

You already have a feeling on what he is going to ask, but it still humors you slightly that he is breaking a bit of his respectful decorum that you know him for. You glance around the room, and the only people left are you, the captain and Dr. Onda. At least no one else is there to make fun of what you’re about to do. “Sure, we can take a photo.”

Aoshima brightens significantly. “Thank you, my daughter would be thrilled. Is it okay if you record a greeting as well? It’s her birthday soon.”

“She knows who I am?” Your eyes widen.

He thinks you’re being too modest. “She used to follow you before you deleted your accounts.”

“Then, it’s no problem! Sorry if I might seem a bit awkward. I haven’t done this in a while so I’m a bit rusty,” you laugh nervously.

You take his phone from his hands, angling the camera for a self-photo with him at your side. The recording goes just as smoothly, with you giving a small pep talk on how his daughter should focus on her studies. Captain Aoshima bows in gratitude, glowing with the excitement of a father who will do anything in the world for his kids.

Dr. Onda watches as his assistant leaves the room, leaving you and him alone. Swallowing your nervousness, you turn to the man and give a respectful bow. “Thank you for the meeting, Dr. Onda. The KDF remains safe in your hands.”

His silence makes you a bit more nervous. It is one thing for you to conduct a thorough interrogation during a quarterly board meeting, it is another making small-talk.

“I’ll…be going?” You try to have a smooth exit, but he raises his hand to signal you to stay.

“I was never fond of businessmen meddling with the organization,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“Well…Motsubishi prides itself in our social involvement—”

“Spare me the sales pitch, your father has done a lot of that when he served on the board,” he interrupts you. “I doubt you believe weapons development equates to welfare.”

“We only make it to the KDF,” you immediately rebut.

“Not fond of the dirtier sides of the business? Isn’t this what you’ve studied?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

You pocket your hands into your slacks. “I’m not entirely fond of profiting from war.”

“Would you call our fight against kaiju a war?”

“...You’re testing me.” You click your tongue. “Please, Dr. Onda.”

“You used to call me ‘Uncle’, when you played with Akiko.”

The room grows a little colder.

“Have you seen Hayao lately?” He changes topic, turning away from you.

“Can’t say I have, but I’ve seen him a couple of times since the incident,” you admit.

He gives a hum of acknowledgement.

“His knee is getting better, not that you asked,” you inform him, stepping forward to stand by his side. You look ahead as you speak. “I think…I think Kenji is taking care of him? Not sure, I didn’t get to confirm, but Emiko…before she disappeared…she told me that he flew all the way here just to take care of the Professor. It took a bit but I think they’re finally talking.”

It’s quiet again, for a moment. “And…Ultraman?”

“I…I don’t know who it is now, I’m sorry,” you don’t know why you are apologizing.

Dr. Onda merely sighs.

You turn to face him properly. “He doesn’t blame you, you know. For his knee.”

“I never asked for his forgiveness.” His face is steel, not betraying a hint of emotion. You see your worried face in the reflection of his shades. “Nor do I feel any sort of guilt.”

“You didn’t know he was Ultraman—”

“And even if I did, I still would have ordered the shot.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“And I don’t make it a habit to shoot at superheroes. Ultraman was interfering with an official KDF extraction. It was necessary.” He remains stone-faced.

“You let him go.”

He walks away from you to another side of the room as he dismissively waves you off. “A mistake.”

“Admit it. You saw his crumpled body on the ground and you just let him go.” You follow, hot on his heels.

You nearly ram into him when he briskly stops in his tracks to turn to you. “I saw the crumpled body of my daughter’s killer and decided I wouldn’t stoop down to his level.”

“He is only one man.” You run a hand through your hair.

“Ultraman is not my enemy, but if he proves to be a nuisance that hinders us from achieving some peace in our shores, then I am not against making him one,” he booms. The conviction of his words might have shaken you, but you notice his shoulders sag slightly, defeated.

You cross your arms, tucking them close to your torso. “That’s…that’s one thing I agree on.”

“...Thank you.” You can tell he means it.

“The new Ultraman…he still needs to grow on me,” you divulge. “He kind of acts like some young hotshot. Seems pretty immature.”

“It’ll be easy to track him down then. But Hayao…he must have taught his new protégé all he knows about how to hide himself.”

“Doctor, you know that I am dedicated to help the KDF in anyway I can,” you affirm.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Even if it means going against your tutor?”

“I think we and Ultraman have the same goal,” you answer. “We all want to be able to keep the people of this city safe. I don’t know how useful I can be to Ultraman’s cause but I know that I can affect real change here in the KDF. Like how Emiko used to.”

He’s a bit unsatisfied with your reply, but his lips almost twitch into a smile at your, as he calls it, misguided idealism. “You should also go by Doctor, then.”

You wince at the title.

“I’ll pass.” Even if you did recently graduate, it feels like a brag. It does not help that most of the internet thinks you’re lying when you discuss your educational background.

“Receiving a doctorate at 26 is no easy feat. You deserve to be acknowledged for it,” he coolly praises you. The flattery is getting to you a bit, but you still avoid letting it seep in.

“Doesn’t seem to matter much to others,” you dismiss his words. “I’ve tried so hard to distance myself from my old image. I deleted all my social media. I have placed full attention into preparing myself for what I’m about to inherit and I’m still…It still isn’t enough.”

Dr. Onda pushes his shoulders back. “The media play against you has been rampant since you were younger. It is hard to push back against such schemes.”

At eighteen, you formally entered society.

At eighteen, you had the world at your fingertips.

At eighteen, your father officially named you as his successor. He did not have much of a choice, given that you were his only one.

At eighteen, you made enemies who to this day are intent that you stay far away from the title Chief Executive Officer.

“My dad’s officially retiring within the month.”

“I’ve received the invitation to your welcoming gala,” he states. “Congratulations. While I’m not fond of public outings, since your father personally requested my appearance, I cannot say no.”

“I need a win.” Your arms fall to your sides, hands balling into fists. “I refuse to be driven out of the company my family built.”

His shades reflect a small flash of light. “Is this the purpose of our chat?”

“Project Surrogate. I need this to work. If the KDF can get stronger public approval I can solidify my position.”

“I can’t guarantee anything,” he warns you. “And I’m not doing this to satisfy anyone’s greed for power. This is for the people.”

“Because of the kaiju, I got separated from my best friend.” You place a hand over your heart. “And he grew up without a father. Believe me. My ambitions are here but I am fully committed to making this work.”

His hands clasp behind his back. “All I ask is for trust— an understanding, that I am using your investments for the greater good.”

You grin. “Where do I sign?”

A/N: hello … I’m not dead :D

And yes you are pro-KDF for now :D I think Dr. Onda is such a cool and well-written antagonist. DYK in early Ultraman he actually does just straight up kill the kaiju. From a utilitarian standpoint, kaiju are an invasive species. They’re not inherently bad but they don’t belong in the environment they are in. (I watch a lot of those lion fish exterminator tiktoks…)

If you saw on my Tumblr I posted a WIP snippet of what was supposed to go into this chapter, but ultimately I decided that maybe having a portion that focused solely on adding more context to who the reader is would help push the story forward. You go by a lot of different names around these parts! But next chapter would have too much Ken to make up for his absence here! The WIP I posted will be moved to ch10 as well :>

Since I’ve already finished a portion of the next chapter and it’s ready to publish in no time, as it’s a direct continuation from chapter 8’s flashback, here’s a snippet of its introduction so you know what’s in store!

——-

You hear a rapid knocking on the door.

You don’t register it at first, your head pounding from waking up too early. The only thing you can sense is Ken’s warm back against your bare chest, your hands around his waist. You press your face against the back of his neck, groaning at the hour. “Kenji, S’noisy.”

You feel his body shift, and he shrugs you off. “Y’face too cold…”

You just bite his shoulder and tug him closer. He lets you.

Soon, the knocking stops, but Kenji’s phone rings from the bedside table. Groaning, he blindly reaches for it to take the call, and you whine when he shifts in your hold. You realize that you won’t be able to get any sleep, so your eye cracks open to check the clock.

2:17 AM.

Now who—

“Kenji? Kenji are you awake? I’m outside your door. Please let me in.”

You both bolt up when you hear Emiko Sato’s voice from the phone. You slap his back to get him moving. “The sofa,” you hiss, lowering your voice.

Both of you struggle to keep quiet as you rush to find your clothes. Ken quickly pulls out the sofabed, and tosses rumpled blankets onto it to give an illusion that he’s been there the entire time. You find the bra he tossed away earlier on top of a nearby lamp. He grabs an air freshener can to spray lightly across the room— not too much for it to be obvious.

Ken opens the door just after you dive back into the covers, pretending to be asleep.

---

lmk if u want to be on the taglist for future chapters ty!

#ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x reader #cross posted on ao3

65 notes · View notes

bellobambino · 6 months ago

Text

I'll be happy to solve this billing issue for you, Mr. Mangione. It seems as though your mailing address was pulled from your parent's account. It's no problem, sir. I can help update that for you.

Have you downloaded the Healow app? You can use it to make changes to your account, view healthcare documents, find new providers in network. It's wonderful. You can update your mailing address there. Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Mangione?

Sure, I can stay on the line.

After making account changes, it might take some time to update on my end.

Sorry to put you on hold, thank you so much for patiently waiting. I spoke with my colleague and it seems the Healow app doesn't have permission to make changes in our HealthSure database.

I've just emailed you the form to update your address. Once you send that to us filled out, we can get this all situated. Yes sir, it's a link to the form. What you'll need to do is access the Wanky app. Yes, at HealthSure, we use Wanky so your private data stays secure. I'll wait while you download Wanky.

Right, Mr. Mangione, once you've created your account, you can access all the forms you need to update your information for HealthSure.

The app crashed? I've had better luck with some clients using the Wanky program on their desktop computer. Yes, I can wait.

Yes, I've sent the change of address form to your Wanky account already. It's not showing up? I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, may I put you on hold?

Sorry for the wait, Mr. Mangione. I've spoken with my supervisor. He's advised me to send you the form in the mail. Once we receive the change of address form back at our Atlanta office, we can make the necessary changes to your account.

Just one moment. Can you confirm to me your mailing address please?

Hmm.. that doesn't match the one we have on the account. Yes... Yes, this the address you're trying to change. I'm aware. I still need to type it in to confirm your credentials on my end of the system. Don't worry, Mr. Mangione.

Okay thank you for that information. ... Okay, Mr. Mangione. I'm going to mail you a packet to the address on file. If you can fill i out and send back to us--

... Right, yes, mr mangione. I see the problem now. May i place you on a brief hold?

Thank you so much for waiting. I spoke with my manager and he said the easiest way to update your account information would be to access the Wanky app on the computer, filling out the form, and then submitting it through the documents tab in the Healow app.

I'm sorry for your frustration, Mr. Mangione. I'm trying to make this as easy as possible for you.

#united healthcare #united health group #insurance #fuck you #luigi mangione #uhc assassin #uhc shooter #this isnt the half of it #do you know how many phone calls this would have taken?#she would have been attempting to get off the phone after suggesting the app #im so tired of creating accounts #this is how you radicalize someone #radicalized #fix the system #i need a xanax

25 notes · View notes

mmushinroom · 1 year ago

Text

A short college AU:

Senior and sophomore students SQQ, LQG, SQH, WQW, MQF, MBJ and LBH went skinny dipping in CQ university’s Dean quarter designated pool. In night. Without permission. When the security arrived shouting and blowing their whistles, these idiots ran naked grabbing whatever article of clothing that were in reach and made a dash to the dorms. It was that stupid SQH’s idea!! For fucks sake!

Next day the security identified the culprits from the database, with the use of CCTV footage, and they were summoned to Dean YQY’s office. Only one was missing! Who you may ask, it was that bloody rat man!!

Everyone was reprimanded but since it was SQH’s birthday they did not reveal his identity and bore the punishments themselves.

Now you may ask, how the hell did the most strategic person and the rest got caught but the main instigator managed to escape?

Well…

That night…

Security: “YOU UNSCRUPULOUS BRATS! STOP THIS INSTANCE!!!

everyone except SQH: *ran covering their itty bitty dongs*

SQH: *running away covering his?…

FACE!

*his airplane waving up and down while he ran through the corridors*

Everyone else: “….…”

Security: “……..”

CCTV manager: “………..”

MBJ: “….Daaayum!” *horny gripping*

Smartass Hamster-man 🐹

#svsss #mxtx svsss #shang qinghua #moshang #lbh #sqq #cangqiong #airplane shooting towards the sky

60 notes · View notes

pancakeke · 4 months ago

Text

I have worked as the sole data analyst here for years and understand our database well enough that I've been asked to fill in for dev to identify site errors on several occasions. I still need to request table access piecemeal from dev, and my requests are almost always met with resistance questioning why I would possibly need the only source for data behind something benign (like order shipments).

after providing my reasoning (it's the only way to get tracking number data) my responses are typically ignored for 4+ weeks before receiving the permission. sometimes my tickets are closed or hang for months and I don't get shit though.

a new warehouse manager dug up a bunch of reports last used nearly a decade ago which pulled data from obsolete tables and woefully depreciated views. he requested access to all of those data sources and received the permissions right away. now im trying to modernize his shit before the info he's using causes problems.

i need a new job.

#i really dont get it #and I'm so fucking tired of trying to decode the secret reasons behind why people vehemently refuse the most basic cooperation #either learn basic communication skills or go live as a hermit

12 notes · View notes

justinspoliticalcorner · 5 months ago

Text

Caleb Ecarma and Judd Legum at Popular Information:

The arrangement presents acute privacy and security risks, one of the OPM staffers said. Among the government outsiders granted entry to the OPM databases is University of California Berkeley student Akash Bobba, a software engineer who graduated high school less than three years ago. He previously interned at Meta and Palantir, a technology firm chaired by Musk-ally and fellow billionaire Peter Thiel. Edward Coristine, another 2022 high school graduate and former software engineering intern at Musk’s Neuralink, has also been given access to the databases.

Other Musk underlings embedded at OPM following President Donald Trump’s inauguration include the agency’s new chief of staff, Amanda Scales, who until January was a human resources staffer at xAI, Musk’s artificial intelligence firm, and Brian Bjelde, who has spent the past 21 years at Musk's SpaceX, including the last 10 leading the human resources department. They are joined by Gavin Kliger, a former Twitter software engineer serving as a special advisor to the director of OPM, and Riccardo Biasini, a former software engineer at Musk’s tunneling venture, the Boring Company. OPM did not respond to a request for comment. Shortly after Trump took office, OPM installed Greg Hogan to serve as its new chief information officer (CIO). Hogan was tapped to replace OPM CIO Melvin Brown, who had accepted the job less than a month ago. The civil servants who oversee the OPM’s information technology services were then instructed to provide access to Musk's associates, according to the OPM staffers who spoke to Musk Watch. One of the OPM staffers received an email from the agency’s new leadership instructing them to give Musk’s team “access [to] the system as an admin user" and "code read and write permissions." “They have access to the code itself, which means they can make updates to anything that they want,” the staffer explained. USAJOBS, the federal government’s official hiring site, was one of the systems that Musk's associates were given access to. The database stores personal information — Social Security numbers, home addresses, employment records — provided by private individuals who have applied for federal jobs, regardless of whether the applicants went on to work for the government. Musk’s aides were also given access to the OPM’s Enterprise Human Resources Integration (EHRI) system. Contained within the EHRI are the Social Security numbers, dates of birth, salaries, home addresses, and job descriptions of all civil government workers, along with any disciplinary actions they have faced. “They’re looking through all the position descriptions… to remove folks,” one of the OPM staffers said of Musk’s team. “This is how they found all these DEI offices and had them removed — [by] reviewing position description level data.” Other databases Musk’s team has access to include USA Staffing, an onboarding system; USA Performance, a job performance review site; and HI, which the government uses to manage employee health care. “The health insurance one scares me because it's HIPAA [protected] information, but they have access to all this stuff,” the OPM staffer noted.

[...] A new server being used to control these databases has been placed in a conference room that Musk’s team is using as their command center, according to an OPM staffer. The staffer described the server as a piece of commercial hardware they believed was not obtained through the proper federal procurement process. There is a legal requirement that the installation of a new server undergo a Privacy Impact Assessment (PIA), a formal process to ensure the change would not create any security vulnerabilities. But in this instance, the staff believes there was no PIA. “So this application and corresponding hardware are illegally operating,” they added. On Friday, Reuters reported that some senior civil servants have been blocked from accessing the EHRI and other OPM systems, making it difficult for career OPM employees to know what Musk’s team has been examining or modifying. In the same report, the outlet revealed the team had moved sofa beds into the agency's headquarters to continue their work around the clock.

This should be a major national news scandal.

Elon Musk and the underlings he put in place at the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) have jeopardized data privacy and national security.

#Elon Musk #DOGE #Department of Government Efficiency #Trump Administration #Office of Personnel Management #USA Peformance #HIPAA #Enterprise Human Resources Integration #Amanda Scales #Data Breach #Privacy Impact Assessment #Data Privacy #Musk Coup

9 notes · View notes

yupuffin · 20 days ago

Text

So began Quay’s training. It was everything he hoped it would be and more—which is to say, it was a splendid few days on the coast. His wealth of experience beachcombing meant this was really just a matter of remembering techniques and protocol. However, navigating the stranding network’s database was its own separate task—albeit one that could be addressed back within the safety of Jinzhou’s walls, and, Quay anticipated, one he could pick up fairly quickly.

And, after work…

…There was a tug originating from within his chest—a tug pulling him in the direction of Huaxu Academy.

He looked forward to retreating to the safety of his apartment, yes, but the afternoon was still young. There was still time—time to visit Mortefi.

Just a quick visit, as a reminder that he wasn’t completely alone in this new world. And then he could go back to his place and rest.

Entering Huaxu Academy for the second time was nowhere near as intimidating as the first. Still, Quay had to give the voice in the corner of his mind—the one reminding him he looked like he had a target painted on his back—a stern reminder to pipe down.

One of these days, he’d learn how to look like he was supposed to be here, but today was not that day.

“Hello there—can I help you?”

Sometimes, as embarrassing as it could be, Quay’s ability to look quite lost no matter the location was actually beneficial; in new places, he seldom had to ask for assistance, because, inevitably, someone would offer it first. He’d hardly been inside for ten seconds, and a researcher—one he couldn’t recall meeting during his previous visit—was already making their way over to him.

Upon meeting his gaze, they paused momentarily. “Ah, it’s you. I remember you from the other day.”

Evidently, the lack of recognition wasn’t mutual.

(Which was probably a good thing, in any case, because then, at least, Quay wouldn’t get singled out for loitering, right? Or even trespassing?)

Quay forced his hands to stop fidgeting. “Oh… you do?”

“Yeah!” Thankfully, they didn’t seem bothered by Quay’s lack of enthusiasm. “Anyway, what was it you needed?”

Quay managed to straighten his back, but failed to steady his voice. “I’m, uh… here to see Mortefi.”

The researcher nodded. “Ah, Mortefi. He’s back in his lab. At least, he was last time I checked. It’s this way.”

Feeling only marginally more oriented, Quay followed the researcher down a hall extending from the foyer’s rear left corner. Too quickly he grew to miss the natural light coming in from the big windows now far behind him. To distract himself, he counted the doors they passed, wondering which would be the one he sought—

—and he didn’t have to wonder for long, because the next door ahead of them opened, and who should step out but Mortefi, tailed by a pair of researchers.

Quay didn’t know why, when he came here specifically to see Mortefi, he still experienced something like pleasant surprise at the sight of him.

“Ah,” commented Quay’s guide, “looks like he’s busy at the moment.”

Mortefi and the two researchers were evidently in the middle of some conversation; Quay didn’t bother trying to make out individual words, though, instead opting to listen to how Mortefi’s voice rose and fell in his throat, like the air over hot coals being turned.

“Are you in a hurry?”

The guide’s whispered question snagged Quay’s attention. Quay managed to spare them a glance.

“No, it’s okay,” Quay murmured back. “I can wait.”

At some point between sentences, Mortefi cast Quay and the guide each a brief look. His conversation with the pair of researchers, however, proceeded for another minute or two before the researchers took their leave and made their way down the hallway from whence Quay had come. Mortefi then produced his tablet from his pocket and began to manipulate something on the screen. Another thirty seconds or so passed in near-silence before he faced Quay and the guide properly.

Now Mortefi’s full attention was on them, granting them permission to speak.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mortefi,” the guide piped up. “Quay is here to see you.”

Mortefi, still holding his tablet, regarded Quay with an inquisitive gaze. “So it would seem. Thank you.”

With a hushed, yet polite salutation, the guide also took their leave. Quay watched them shuffle away for a second or so.

Quay was suddenly acutely aware of the quiet, yet persistent whirring of machinery echoing in the brightly lit hallway. He must have been holding his breath.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting,” Mortefi finally began. “Give me a description of the item you wanted—if you would.”

Quay felt his brow furrow in puzzlement. He realized belatedly that he should have expected such a start to the conversation, rather than some platitude—though, when did he ever develop the expectation for that?

“...Item? I’m sorry, I’m…” Quay chose his words carefully. “...I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Mortefi’s eyes narrowed just slightly, the shadows within them deepening. “I believe I told you to approach me with inquiries about Tacetite weapons or device modifications, did I not?”

Quay felt his recollection of the other day click into place in his brain. “Oh.”

Mortefi had indeed departed with… the instruction to find him if Quay wanted something made. Had that been a hard-and-fast rule, or just a request? For his own sake, Quay hoped it was the latter.

“You did, but…” Quay shifted his weight. “I’m not here for that. I just came to stop by and say hi.”

Mortefi’s talon paused on the tablet screen. “To stop by?”

Now Quay blinked, forcing himself to keep breathing. “...Is that unusual?”

Did people only ever visit Mortefi’s lab to make demands of him? Or was Quay specifically not permitted to visit for any other purpose?

Thankfully, before Quay’s train of thought could derail too far, Mortefi’s grip on his tablet relaxed visibly—as did Quay’s lungs along with it.

“Not unusual,” Mortefi conceded, a rumble passing through his voice, “just… unexpected.”

Really? Quay didn’t know what to make of this distinction. Nevertheless, the important part was that he wasn’t in trouble.

“You may leave disappointed,” Mortefi continued, his eyes still on the tablet screen. “I can’t offer much by way of entertainment, I’m afraid, as I’m quite busy at the moment.” Indeed, he was already turning back towards the door to his lab as he spoke.

“That’s okay,” Quay interjected. “We don’t need to do anything in particular, just…”

He trailed off as he realized he had no idea where he was going with that sentence. His train of thought had failed him once again.

Mortefi, having paused facing the door, pivoted and raised an eyebrow at him. “Just…?”

Quay clenched his jaw shut. The way this was going, trying to pull himself out of this hole would only dig him deeper still. If he was lucky, Mortefi would lose interest in that particular line of reasoning, and either change the subject, or leave him in the hallway to die of embarrassment.

Well, if he perished here, he’d have accomplished his goal of ‘saying hi,’ if nothing else.

“Ah, that’s right.” Mortefi straightened his back. “I suppose, while you’re here, I should give you a proper apology.”

The solemn way he met Quay’s eyes was… concerning? Quay had gotten his hopes up for a few seconds, but maybe the change in subject wasn’t so fortunate after all.

Quay’s ears folded back. “An apology? For what?”

Now Mortefi averted his gaze again. This development stirred Quay’s stomach in a way he didn’t quite understand at the time, but later figured it was due to the rapid shift in the conversation; up until this point, Quay was certain he’d been in a much more vulnerable position than Mortefi. The way Mortefi’s confidence seemed to evaporate almost instantly unsettled him.

“For frightening you the other day.”

Had he not been present for the context, Quay might well have assumed that Mortefi was speaking to the wall.

Quay’s brow fell into a deep furrow as he sorted through his memories, backtracking through his occupational training to the last time he saw Mortefi—two or three days ago, indeed, when they’d crossed paths on that walk up the nearby mountain. Maybe he’d thought Mortefi slightly intimidating a few times, but…

…Frightening? When did that happen?

…

…Oh, wait.

Now that he thought about it, Quay recalled a moment right after that scuffle with the Tacet Discords when Mortefi had apologized for something, but he’d been thoroughly perplexed at the time as to what that something could be. Quay had indeed spent a bit too long staring at the scales on Mortefi’s chest, and surmised that he’d been impolite at the very least, but that would have been something he should apologize for, not Mortefi—hence, his guesses had ended there.

That must have been it. Mortefi had interpreted Quay’s wide-eyed expression as fear. (And indeed, the way Mortefi now turned his left shoulder to Quay, hiding his scales from view, was reminiscent of how he’d previously retreated from Quay’s persistent gaze.)

And perhaps Mortefi was not unreasonable for it, Quay mused. Quay was indeed nervous and apprehensive around all manner of things that would not perturb an average person quite so deeply, so to think that he was afraid of something at any given moment was not a bad guess. And, conversely, it would be perfectly logical for someone to be afraid of a menacing dragon with the power to incinerate even Tacet Discords—but that particular fear was not one Quay possessed—especially not after witnessing how Mortefi fidgeted with a lighter, of all things.

In those two ways in particular, Quay acknowledged, he was certainly illogical.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Quay finally responded, collecting his wits. “You didn’t frighten me.”

Mortefi was silent for many long seconds, during which he started to turn back towards Quay, yet never fully faced him; in the brightly lit hallway, Quay could make out several unidentified emotions swimming through Mortefi’s eyes, one after the other.

“...Is that so?”

Quay spent a minute or so debating what response, if any, would be appropriate. As time dragged on, he feared this conversation would end on that awkward note.

Yes, he had accomplished his goal of ‘saying hi’ to Mortefi. Yet, he wanted to stay longer.

…And do what?

“All right, everybody, slow down.”

As Quay contemplated, an unfamiliar voice rose above the whirring in the background. It was coming from behind him; someone was making their way down the hallway. Instinctively, he pressed himself against the nearest wall and hoped they would simply pass by without further incident.

It became evident when he looked to confirm the newcomers’ identity that this particular outcome was extremely unlikely.

Indeed—newcomers, plural, rather than newcomer, singular: a young woman dressed in red and white, surrounded by a gaggle of children, the oldest of whom was likely six or seven.

Quay blinked.

Then he blinked again.

What were children doing in Huaxu Academy?

An answer soon arrived, in the form of one of the children speeding ahead of the others, making a beeline for a very obvious target they proceeded to declare:

“Mister Mortefiii!”

And, at the child’s gleeful squeal, two or three more broke off from the group and pursued their leader, their collective footsteps thundering against the floor.

“Hang on! Didn’t I just ask you to slow down?”

The young woman’s voice echoed again, with good-natured exasperation, as Quay spun to track the running children—and then to ascertain Mortefi’s reaction.

Quay wasn’t sure what he expected—but whatever it was, it wasn’t Mortefi crouching to meet the oncoming children, his tail giving a lazy sweep across the floor. Sure enough, the group of them stumbled to a halt, certainly well within comfortable conversation distance of him (in fact, Quay thought they were rather in danger of knocking him over); nevertheless, Mortefi showed no indication of distress.

“Now, what did I tell you about running in the laboratory?” Instead, Mortefi’s voice was soft, colored with a pleasant rumble, and his eyes were all but glowing with warmth.

“Oh, sorry,” one of the children lilted.

“Mister Mortefi!” another child squeaked. “Mister Mortefi, did you make it?”

Concurrent with this inquiry, a third child in the gaggle continued to waddle down the hallway, at first merely passing Mortefi; their goal became clear when they reached out with both tiny hands and practically toppled onto Mortefi’s tail.

Mortefi was about to answer the second child’s question when this development caught him off-guard. Still, somehow, he barely flinched, instead giving his tail another languid sweep that gently freed its scutes from the child’s grasp.

“Easy on the tail,” Mortefi advised, the appendage in question now swinging back, with utmost care, to herd the stray child back into Mortefi’s field of vision.

With this distraction taken care of, Mortefi produced from his pocket an item whose identity Quay struggled to discern at first. Whatever it was, its appearance elicited cries of joy from the group of children.

Quay’s ongoing attempts to make sense of the situation were promptly interrupted by a scarcely perceptible tug on the fabric of his pants—one that nevertheless made him jump.

He looked down. One of the children had escaped the attention of both Mortefi and the young woman and was now clinging to one of Quay’s boots.

“Hey, remember? Personal space.”

Thankfully, the young woman noticed and came to his rescue, grasping the child’s free hand and coaxing them away from Quay. The child meekly complied—but not without continuing to stare intensely. Quay might have tried to put even more distance between them were his back not already effectively against the wall.

“Sorry about that.”

The young woman’s voice gave him an excuse to divert his attention. He didn’t dare judge her appearance too closely, because, if she was anything like him, based on her rounded face and bright eyes, he figured people might underestimate her age by a whole ten years.

“Oh,” Quay managed to mumble. “It’s okay.”

Having his clothing grabbed wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, no—but what was he going to do? Vent his displeasure on a young child who was just exploring like children normally do?

“By the way, I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.” The young woman cocked her head faintly. “Are you new here?”

Quay’s hands fidgeted. “Oh, no. I don’t work here. I’m just visiting.”

Before the young woman could respond, the little child piped up again, pointing at Quay with one tiny finger. “Miss Chixia, look! He’s got puppy ears!”

Quay wilted at the child’s undying adoration, his ears pressing back against his head.

“Yes, that’s very cool, isn’t it?” The young woman—Chixia—nevertheless acknowledged the observation with a giggle. “Just remember, we ask before touching, okay?”

The child reached out again, flexing their fingers. “I wanna touch!”

Quay withered further. His tail was even beginning to tuck between his legs. “I would really rather you didn’t.”

“Listen, they said ‘no,’ okay?” Chixia grasped the child’s hand a little tighter. “We gotta respect when someone says ‘no.’”

The child withdrew their hand and made a small whining noise. Quay couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for them in spite of himself.

“Anyway, now you know I’m Chixia, but I don’t think I’ve gotten your name yet.”

Chixia’s prompt was a welcome distraction from this predicament. As such, Quay managed to perk up a bit, though he couldn’t resist the urge to cast the occasional downward glance at the child—just to confirm that they were still restrained.

“Oh, it’s… Quay. Spelled like the word that means ‘wharf.’”

“Quay…” Chixia echoed the syllable like she was tasting an unfamiliar food, and then her expression lit up as the comparison, evidently, clicked into place in her mind. “Ah, I see! Like the word that means ‘wharf.’”

Quay only nodded, self-consciousness already burning in the pit of his stomach. He hoped she wouldn’t linger on the subject for too long.

Fortunately for him, she didn’t, though that didn’t mean her next line of thinking was significantly more palatable; instead, she held out one hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Quay stared, deliberating whether it would be appropriate to refuse the gesture. Chixia, though, came in clutch once again; before Quay fully decided, she had already ascertained his degree of hesitation.

“Not a handshake person? That’s okay.” Chixia renewed her grasp on the small child, who seemed to have settled down for the time being. “You said you were visiting, right? Where from?”

“Here.” Quay flexed one ear. “Well, technically. I just moved to Jinzhou.”

“Ah, is that so? From where, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Quay had only just begun an inward debate on how to respond when a commotion from the main group of children drew his attention. It didn’t take a detective to deduce from their cries that they were very enthusiastic about something. That “something” came into view as one of the children promptly hoisted it above their head: a fairly large toy, shaped like a cartoonish dragon’s head, with what appeared to be wheels attached.

It was a simple-looking thing, Quay thought, but that did nothing to discourage the children. Their excitement for the toy seemed to outweigh their excitement for Mortefi; the child carrying the toy immediately whirled around and raced back towards the exit, with all of the other children in tow—even the one clinging to Chixia.

“Whoop, gotta go!” Cued by the child’s escape, Chixia started to break off in pursuit. “See you later! And see you next time, Quay!”

And as the children’s footsteps disappeared around the corner, the ambient whirring noise settled back into place into Quay’s ears.

Mortefi gave a rough sigh. “At least they knew to take it outside this time.”

All right, time to process what just happened.

Clearly, this was not the first time Mortefi had hosted the gaggle of children in his lab; they knew him by name, and their inquiries, as well as Mortefi’s comments, seemed to refer to previous conversations of a similar nature. Mortefi’s composure throughout the entire encounter suggested that nothing about it was too far out of the ordinary for him. As for Chixia, Quay hadn’t managed to gather much about her, except for the fact that she was well-acquainted with the procedure of guiding the children along—utter chaos aside (in her defense, they were young children).

As for the purpose of their visit…

…If Quay understood correctly, Mortefi had presented them with a toy of his own making? The children had asked if he’d “made it,” and it did seem to bear some likeness to Mortefi himself.

So… Mortefi made toys for children? On a regular basis?

Quay found it difficult to imagine, but he supposed there was ample evidence for such a conclusion—especially considering Mortefi could, apparently, also build weapons and repair electronics.

“Back to work,” Mortefi muttered.

Indeed, so much for being busy.

Mortefi, with an odd combination of simmering exasperation and renewed resolve, finally committed to opening the door to his laboratory.

“Uh…” Quay made a valiant attempt at getting Mortefi’s attention; however, with his utter indecision at what exactly to say, his voice came out less than flattering.

Mortefi paused in the threshold. “Yes, what is it?”

Quay steadied himself with a breath.

“Would it be okay for me to come back sometime in the future?”

Mortefi considered this question for perhaps a second. If Quay wasn’t imagining it, he thought he saw Mortefi give a tiny shrug of quasi-approval, like the kind usually observed in someone who just sampled a new food and didn’t find the taste at all disagreeable. Of course, the minuscule movement of Mortefi’s shoulders and his contemplative glance at the floor could have both been a mere illusion.

“I have no qualms with that.” A rattle of the door’s handle punctuated Mortefi’s words as he proceeded into the laboratory. “And you aren’t prohibited from occupying the Academy, so long as your conduct remains appropriate.”

“Ah, good to know. Thank you.” The response left Quay’s mouth of its own accord—perhaps a halfway irrelevant platitude, but an acknowledgment regardless.

In all honesty, he was too busy measuring the scope of his victory to offer anything more articulate. It would have been unrealistic, he assured himself, to expect any degree of visible enthusiasm from Mortefi in this situation; still, Quay considered this neutral to vaguely positive response an indicator of his success, if a small one.

The door eclipsed the brightly lit interior of Mortefi’s laboratory, the tip of Mortefi’s tail gave a final languid sweep across the floor, and with a conclusive ka-chunk, Quay was back in the hallway, accompanied only by the whirring noise in the background.

Mortefi’s lab, Chixia, the gaggle of children, and, of course, Mortefi himself… there was still much to learn about Huaxu Academy, it seemed.

Quay’s curiosity about these matters, he mused, made the ideal pretense for a series of future visits.

#mortequay #quay wuwa #wuwa oc #wuthering waves #mortefi #fics #also chixia is in this!! shoutout to her for being the expert child wrangler

4 notes · View notes