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bananasplit133 · 3 days ago

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Dial T for Tenna (PART 5)

'Ant' Tenna/Reader

PART 1 -- AO3

Summary: After a calmer broadcast, Tenna is pulled into a surprise meeting with the higher-ups. Tension rises, but the reader helps him stay grounded. Despite everything, they choose to stay by his side through the rest of the day.

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The next day carried the weight of something unspoken—like the echo after a broadcast that had ended too abruptly. The studio didn't feel loud, exactly, but it wasn’t quiet either. There was a tension in the air that no amount of lighting gels or laugh tracks could dispel. The incident from yesterday—the contestant, the knife, the panic—had slipped into every crack between cables and clipboards. No one said anything outright, of course. They were professionals. But there was a new tightness in the way stagehands moved, how producers huddled behind headsets a little longer than necessary. Every time someone glanced toward the main hallway or the editing bay, it was like they were bracing for a surge of static that never came.

And then, Tenna arrived.

He didn’t enter with a bang. No signature catchphrase. No arms thrown wide, demanding attention like a spotlight come to life. Just the soft tap of his shoes on tile, the hum of his frame as he walked through the lobby like someone who had simply never left. His screen was calm—still glowing white, not flickering or glitching, no sharp color shifts or sound distortions. Just… steady. Even his antennae, usually twitching with some unreadable broadcast tension, were unusually still, rising in slow, measured angles instead of jittering through thoughts he couldn’t say out loud. And his mouth—tight-lipped, flat—didn’t try to form a smirk or a grimace. No theatrics. No false charm. Just a thin line of quiet resolve.

You watched him from the break room doorway as he passed by, barely registering the crew around him. He moved like a weathered professional might walk through a set after a bomb scare—no panic, no collapse, just checking the walls to see what was still standing. When he saw you, he didn’t stop, but his head turned slightly in your direction. A twitch of his antennae. A subtle parting of his lips. Not quite a smile—more like an acknowledgment. The broadcast version of, “You okay?” without ever asking it out loud.

He didn’t ask how you were. And you didn’t ask him either.

That was the strange thing about yesterday’s chaos—it hadn’t broken something between you. If anything, it clarified it. You weren’t just background anymore. Not just the network’s last-ditch “liaison” plastered into place to keep him from melting down on air. He’d looked at you yesterday like you weren’t part of the noise. Like you were the one piece of signal he could tune into when everything else was screaming.

Tenna moved through the building like a presence now, not just a performance. People didn’t flinch when he walked by—not because the fear was gone, but because he wasn’t wearing the same razor-edged energy anymore. He wasn’t performing for them. Not today. He walked into the control room before anyone else could, leaned over the shoulder of a technician still finalizing transitions for the day’s recording, and quietly pointed at a glitch in the lower-third overlay. His antennae dipped as he murmured something under his breath—some note about timing, or color, or spacing. The tech nodded, fixed it, and Tenna stepped back without fanfare.

No booming critique. No tantrum. No static pulse of fury.

Just... work.

Later, in the side hall near the loading bay, you found him again. He was leaned up against a metal case full of cables, coat slightly wrinkled, one antenna bent where it had snagged on a scaffolding pipe earlier. You caught him mid-thought, staring off into some corner of the ceiling like there was an old episode of himself rerunning up there that only he could see. You approached slowly—no clipboard this time, no notes, no rehearsed lines. Just you. Just him.

“You alright?” you asked softly, the air between you still thick with yesterday’s memory.

His mouth pulled into a lopsided shape—something close to a grimace, but lacking any real bite. “You think if I say yes, the sponsors’ll start sending fruit baskets again?”

You gave a dry laugh, stepping beside him. “Depends. You want apples or apologies?”

Tenna snorted, a sharp burst of static through his chest that fizzled just as quickly. “I’ll pass on both. Apples rot, and apologies come with paperwork.” He tilted his head slightly, antennae flicking to one side like a shrug he hadn’t fully committed to. “Not like any of them meant for her to go off like that. They just wanted a wildcard. Something unstable. Something marketable.”

You didn’t correct him. He wasn’t wrong.

“She didn’t belong on that stage,” you said. “You knew it before anyone.”

“I didn’t know,” he muttered, voice low and mechanical, “I felt it. The timing was off. The pacing. The rhythm of the segment just... cracked.” His mouth pressed into a deeper frown. “Used to be, I could fix anything. Tanked jokes, busted lights, even dead crowds. All it took was volume. Flash. I’d pump the feed so full of noise they wouldn’t even remember the glitch. But yesterday...”

He didn’t finish.

You didn’t push.

The silence that followed was long and stretched, but it didn’t feel empty. It just sat with you both, like something earned. Tenna’s antennae drooped slightly—not with exhaustion, exactly, but like someone powering down just enough to feel the air around them. You watched his screen quietly, waiting for the static that usually crawled at the edges to return. It didn’t.

Eventually, he turned his head toward you, mouth parting like he had to chew on the thought before letting it out. “You remember what she said? That she didn’t sign up for this?” His shoulders flexed slightly. “Neither did I.”

You looked at him then—really looked. Not as a star, not as the network’s unbreakable showman, not as the suit who screamed catchphrases into the void because it was safer than silence. Just Tenna. Broadcast burnout in a humanoid frame. Not crying for help. Not begging for pity. Just… there.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you stayed anyway.”

He stared forward, then nodded once—mouth twitching downward in what might’ve been the beginning of a real, weary smile. His antennae perked slightly, not all the way up, just enough to register the motion. A signal that said I heard you.

The crew started buzzing again down the hall. Lights warming up. Producers barking over comms. Another episode to prep. Another thirty minutes of structured chaos and camera-ready reactions to build. The world was waking up again. But for now—for this one moment—it was just the two of you tucked between shadows and silence.

“You coming to stage?” he asked finally.

“I’ll be there.”

“...Don’t let them throw another knife girl at me.” he muttered, antennae dipping in the closest thing to a comedic wince.

You gave him a crooked grin. “No promises.”

And with that, he straightened his coat, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his shoulders like he was rebooting a long-lost file from deep in his system. His mouth curled—not quite into a grin, but something that suggested he still knew how to wear one if the moment called for it.

“Alright then,” he murmured, voice steady but still tinged with something tender. “Let’s give them a show.”

Then he turned and walked back toward the stage, his antennae bouncing slightly with each step—lighter now. Less like a man trying to outrun collapse, and more like someone beginning to trust the silence wouldn’t swallow him whole.

—

The show went off without a hitch.

No fog machines breaking down mid-round. No stagehands tripping over wires. No rogue contestants with twitching hands and knives tucked into jacket linings. Tenna was sharp, electric in all the right ways, never overloading. His timing was crisp, his jokes hit their beats, and the audience—blessedly—stayed on their side of the stage. The buzz in the control room leaned toward cautious optimism, like everyone had been holding their breath for forty-five minutes and now weren’t quite sure how to let it out.

You watched him carefully from the wings the entire time. He didn’t know you were tracking his every move—not directly—but you could feel it in how your eyes wouldn’t leave his screen. You weren’t watching the host. You were watching the tilt of his mouth when a segment didn’t land quite right, the brief flex of his shoulders when the audience clapped too late, the flicker across his antennae whenever someone called a cue half a beat early. He didn’t falter. Not once. But the little signs were there, if you knew what to look for. And you did.

Then came the wrap. The sign-off. The "Thanks for tuning in!" delivered with just enough static to sound spontaneous, but clean enough for broadcast. The music swelled. The lights faded.

And Tenna… exhaled.

You caught the way his shoulders dipped—not in defeat, but in release. His mouth slackened slightly, no longer pinched with performance. The glint of white on his screen dimmed to a gentler glow. Not tired, not smug. Just done. It was the kind of ending that usually bought you at least fifteen minutes of peace before someone barged in yelling about numbers.

But then came the voice.

"Mr. Tenna, please report to Conference Room 1-A. Immediately."

It blared in from the overhead speaker with all the warmth of a dial tone. Your stomach twisted. The tone of that announcement was never good. Not neutral. Not casual. Immediate was code for bad. And calling him in right after the show? That was blood in the water.

Tenna didn’t speak. His antennae twitched once, sharply. His mouth pressed into a tight, unreadable shape. Still, he didn’t argue. He just stepped offstage with the same quiet grace he’d worn all day, like someone walking into a spotlight they didn’t ask for.

You moved before he could say anything.

They’re calling him in alone? After that week? After what happened? That’s not just a red flag, that’s a broadcast emergency test pattern. You caught up to him halfway down the hallway, shoes clicking against tile, clipboard forgotten somewhere on a prop cart behind you. He didn’t look at you, but when you fell in beside him, his hand brushed yours in a tiny motion. Not a grip. Not an ask. Just… a reminder that you were there.

“I’m coming with you,” you said softly, more a statement than an offer.

He didn’t argue. Just gave a tiny, affirming twitch of his antennae. His mouth was set straight again, expression unreadable—but you knew better. That was his defensive mode. Screen bright, posture tight, antennae alert. Like a live wire trying not to short.

Conference Room 1-A. Of course it was that one.

That room still held the ghost of every shouted memo and every impersonal “We love you, but…” ever aimed his way. You’d been in there with him during that first meeting. The one with the paper rattling, the light flickering, the static roaring behind his words like a barely leashed storm. You knew exactly how quickly this place could dig its claws into his frame and twist.

He reached for the door handle like it might shock him.

Announcing you that a meeting is about to take place, your thoughts quipped bitterly. Hmm. You should go with him. The higher-ups calling a meeting out of nowhere might bring trouble. And you were right. The moment you stepped inside, the air changed.

The lights in the conference room were always too bright. The walls sterile white, like a blank screen trying to blind you. The suits were already seated in their tidy little rows around the glass table, tablets and styluses at the ready like they were prepping to dissect someone instead of talk. Kairos was already standing, arms crossed tightly, her nametag catching the light in that frustrating, self-righteous way. She didn’t smile. She didn’t welcome him.

She jumped straight into it.

“Tenna. Sit down.”

His mouth curled slightly—not into a smile. It was the kind of twist his lips made when something was being forced out of him. Restraint. Disgust. Tired showbiz tolerance. His antennae twitched again, more sharply this time, but he obeyed. You sat beside him, hand near his on the table but not touching.

Kairos didn’t waste a second.

“Do you want to tell us,” she said, voice dangerously calm, “how that girl—a completely unverified, unscheduled individual—ended up on your stage with a weapon?”

Tenna’s screen didn’t flash. Not yet. His mouth stayed in that tight line. But his antennae tilted back, defensive.

“I didn’t bring her on,” he said, voice flat.

“She was introduced as a contestant on your segment.”

“I wasn’t given a choice,” he snapped back, and the sharpness of it made his antennae flick forward again. “They slotted her in last minute. I didn’t even get a name until I was already live.”

The other suits muttered, tapped their screens like they were scrolling for excuses. Kairos leaned forward slightly.

“You lost control,” she said. “You were supposed to maintain the broadcast. Instead, we had an emergency feed cut halfway through a round. Sponsors are calling. PR is—”

“I handled it,” Tenna said. A bite in his voice now. “No one got hurt.”

“But it was close,” she snapped, louder now. “And if the footage leaks? We’ve got optics to consider. Damage control. Headlines. People saw your screen glitch, Tenna. You think no one noticed that panic loop in the audio?”

His hand twitched on the table. You noticed it. The same way you noticed his screen beginning to brighten, not with light, but tension. The static wasn’t visible yet, but you could feel it. Building.

Too bright. Too fast. Too many voices talking at him instead of to him.

You looked at him. His mouth was tense. Antennae stiff. The glow behind the glass of his screen was becoming just a little too sharp.

You had to step in.

“I was there,” you said, calmly, clearly. The suits turned. Kairos didn’t, but you knew she was listening. “Mr Tenna did everything he could with a chaotic situation he didn’t create. He got everyone out. He kept it from going to black. That was him. Not you. Him.”

Tenna blinked—figuratively—and you felt the tiniest release of tension at your side. His antennae lowered a notch. His hand flexed once on the table and stayed flat. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t explode either.

You could work with that.

Kairos didn’t flinch at your words. She didn’t scold you for speaking. But the flick of her pen against the table—measured, slow, deliberate—spoke louder than her voice ever could. Her expression remained professionally neutral, but her posture screamed frustration barely caged behind a clipboard and a polished blouse. Across the table, the other suits whispered behind their tablets, muttering about liability and news cycles, ignoring the actual person seated inches from them like he was just another broadcast machine that needed tuning.

And Tenna?

He was slipping.

You could feel it—see it—in every detail they ignored. His screen, still a dull white, had begun to hum. Not loud, not chaotic, but enough to rattle the air near him. The kind of quiet pre-static that came before one of his episodes. His antennae were twitching again, sharper now, not in rhythm with his usual controlled theatrics. One of them ticked down and then jerked upright again, like it couldn’t decide whether to brace for impact or send out a distress signal.

But it was his hands that gave it away.

He dropped them to his knees under the table, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants like they were the only thing keeping him tethered. The grip was tight—too tight. The kind of white-knuckle pressure you knew from watching people try to anchor themselves to reality before something inside them cracked. His mouth tightened, clenched at one corner like he was physically holding something back. Words. Static. Rage. Fear. You couldn’t tell which. Maybe all of it.

The suits kept talking.

Kairos was still reciting PR nightmares like it was a weather report.

And Tenna was unraveling in real time right next to you.

Don’t wait. Your brain barked it before you could overthink it. Don’t let him drop here. Not in this room. Not in front of them. You shifted slightly in your seat, slow enough not to draw attention. The hem of the tablecloth grazed the top of your hand as you reached beneath it—careful, cautious—and found his arm where it rested against his thigh.

His forearm was tense, cables and synthetic tendons pulled taut beneath his coat sleeve. You slid your hand over it gently—steady, warm, grounding. No sudden movement. No demand. Just there. You pressed your palm down just enough for him to feel it.

And then, soft—just for him—you whispered: “Hey… you’re here. With me. Not them.”

There was a beat.

Then another.

Tenna’s mouth twitched—not open, not closed. Just… shifted. Like he was processing the words before his mind could reboot fast enough to shut them out. His antennae flicked, then slowly lowered—not limp, but calmer. Less signal lost. More signal stabilized.

His hand didn’t release the grip on his pant leg.

But it stopped tightening.

The hum in his screen softened—not gone, but muted now, like the volume had been turned down. You didn’t let go of his arm. Not yet. Not until he leaned into your touch just slightly—barely noticeable to anyone not watching for it.

But you were.

And then Kairos spoke again, this time louder, with that tired finality of someone wrapping up an unpleasant job.

“We’ll be monitoring the next few episodes closely. If there’s even a hint of instability on-air—emotional or otherwise—there will be consequences.”

She straightened her clipboard with a snap.

“The meeting is adjourned.”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor rang too loud in the silence that followed. Styluses tapped off, tablets clicked shut. The suits moved in their usual rehearsed rhythm—brisk, indifferent, unaffected. A few tossed tired glances Tenna’s way, but no one lingered. No one said anything to him. Not even Kairos, who simply pivoted on one heel and strode toward the door with the grace of someone who had never once questioned her authority. Just another day at the network.

But Tenna didn’t move.

He stayed seated, hands still resting on his knees. His mouth had drawn into a thin, brittle line. One antenna sagged halfway down, like the energy had drained right out of it. His screen glowed with a dull white pulse—not dangerous, not angry… just empty. Faint interference ghosted along the edge of it, like the image wouldn’t quite finish rendering. He hadn’t looked at you since you touched his arm, but he hadn’t pulled away either.

You let the quiet stretch.

Let the suits walk out first. Let the echo of their footsteps fade behind the conference room doors.

Only then did you slide your chair a little closer, hand still resting on his sleeve. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. His mouth twitched once—like he was trying to form a sentence and the wires just wouldn’t cooperate. His jaw flexed. His antennae slowly started to rise again, unsure, shaky.

“I didn’t lose it,” he muttered finally, voice rough. The sound of static barely touched the words, but you could hear the strain behind them. “I didn’t break. Not really.”

“No,” you said gently. “You didn’t.”

“I wanted to,” he added, quieter now. “I wanted to yell. Scream. Fry the table and walk out and tell Kairos she can stuff her clipboard through a CRT.” He inhaled, and his shoulders lifted sharply with it. “But I didn’t. I sat here. I let them talk to me like I’m not even—like I’m just some busted set piece they can wheel out and dress up and scream at when the ratings dip.”

You hesitated, then leaned in a little closer. “You’re more than that.”

He turned his head just slightly. Not enough to face you fully. But enough to let you know he was hearing it.

“You held it together,” you said. “That’s not nothing.”

Tenna finally let out a long breath—half-static, half-exhaustion. He peeled one hand off his leg slowly, the fabric of his pants creased where his fingers had clutched so hard you were surprised the stitching hadn’t snapped. He stared at his hand for a second, like he didn’t quite recognize it, then rubbed at the side of his screen where the edge flickered faintly, like a headache trying to bloom behind his face.

“I hate this room,” he muttered.

You glanced around. The cold lighting. The clinical table. The emptiness that always buzzed around the walls even when it was full of people.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Me too.”

He finally looked at you—his screen flickering to a faint, washed-out tone. No color. Just the suggestion of something trying to stabilize. His mouth softened—not quite a smile, but no longer pulled so tight. His antennae drooped toward you a little, a quiet motion of… trust, maybe. Or just relief.

You stood first, motioning subtly toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

He nodded, slow and deliberate. Didn’t say anything else as he rose, but when he moved to follow you out, his shoulder brushed against yours and didn’t pull away.

You didn’t need to fill the silence between the two of you.

Because this time, he wasn’t filling it either.

He was just walking beside you. Still lit. Still broadcasting.

Still here.

The hallway felt quieter after the conference room.

Not sterile like before—just… soft. Like the building was exhaling after holding its breath too long. No more shouting. No more accusations. Just the hum of distant machinery and the low shuffle of crew breaking down the last of the day’s sets. Your footsteps echoed beside Tenna’s as you made your way toward his dressing room, neither of you rushing, neither of you speaking. You kept a comfortable pace, close enough that your sleeve brushed his every few strides. He didn’t comment on it.

He didn’t pull away, either.

When you reached the door, he unlocked it with the familiar hiss of an old magnetic reader and pushed it open without fanfare. Inside, the space was as you remembered it—overly lit, lived-in, faintly cluttered with cue cards, old wardrobe notes, and a half-drunk cup of black coffee that had gone cold on the shelf. Tenna stepped inside like muscle memory, tossing his coat onto the side couch and immediately heading toward the small desk in the corner.

“Of course,” he muttered, antennae twitching in resignation, “they left me a pile of incident reports to review.”

You blinked. “Already?”

Tenna made a sharp static noise in the back of his throat—a noise you’d come to recognize as the mechanical equivalent of a bitter laugh. “Oh, they waste no time when they think I’ve embarrassed them.” He plucked a small stack of digital printouts from the desk and dropped into the swivel chair like he was collapsing into it. “Look at this. Eight pages. Eight. On how I may have agitated a potentially unstable contestant by existing too loudly on live television.”

He spun the chair halfheartedly, antennae drooping forward in exasperation. His mouth twisted—not angry, not sad. Just exhausted.

You stepped inside and leaned against the wall near the coat rack. “Need help?”

Tenna looked at you, screen flickering faintly.

Then, he shook his head. “Nah.” His voice lowered into something dry, familiar. “I’ve got this. Paper cuts and PR lies. I’m used to it.”

You nodded slowly. You could tell he meant it. He’d shifted back into function mode—not performing, exactly, but retreating into the safe rhythm of things he could control. You watched him reach for a stylus and begin scanning the first document with quick, deliberate flicks of his hand.

After a moment, he spoke again—quieter now. “You don’t have to stick around. Really. It’s boring from here on out.” He didn’t look at you when he said it. His screen glowed soft white again, blank. “You should take the rest of the day off. I know they didn’t assign you to babysit paperwork.”

There it was. The graceful exit. The dismissal that wasn’t unkind, just routine. Something he could say without having to admit anything.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t reach for the doorknob. Didn’t make an excuse.

Instead, you smiled—quietly—and stepped toward the little armchair near the far wall, dragging it just close enough that you could see the top of the report stack but not read any of it. You sat down, folding your hands in your lap. “I don’t mind boring.”

Tenna paused, stylus hovering mid-mark.

His antennae twitched once.

Then again.

His mouth didn’t smile. But it didn’t argue either.

He let out a soft, static-laced sigh, so faint it could’ve been mistaken for the white noise of the room’s old AC vent. “You’re strange,” he said, not unkindly. “Sticking around for the boring parts.”

“Maybe,” you said, watching the way his antennae finally settled, relaxed, no longer sharp with stress. “Or maybe I just know when someone shouldn’t be alone.”

He didn’t reply.

But he didn’t ask you to leave again.

For the next hour, the only sounds in the dressing room were the quiet hum of electronics, the occasional scribble of Tenna’s stylus on paper, and the soft shift of your breathing as you leaned back in the chair. He worked. You watched. You didn’t fill the silence with conversation. You didn’t reach for your phone. You didn’t feel the need to. He didn’t need a speech. Just a presence.

Eventually, he glanced your way—not a full turn, just the tilt of his head, a subtle shift in the direction of his screen. “Still not leaving?”

You met the glow of his screen with a calm look. “Nope.”

Tenna was quiet a long moment.

Then: “Good.”

And with that, he returned to his paperwork, the tension slowly unwinding from his frame with every page he signed, every breath he took.

You stayed until the lights dimmed and the office was quiet enough to hear the soft flick of his antennae with every subtle movement.

Not because you had to.

Because he let you.

Because he wanted you there.

---

THANKS FOR READING!

TAGLIST: @fallendove @theilluminatidragonqueen @sacru-tainted @thefiasco-onyourblock @aroura-yuh

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insanitize · 4 days ago

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how old is tenna. like actually

okay so 4 hours ago at 2am i saw someone say tenna is from the 70s (likely because he's a game show host) and my gut reaction was There's absolutely no way that's true, he's for sure a late 80s or early 90s tv. but i realized if i were to believe that i should probably have a verifiable reason to, so i went and made sure i did my research to validate my opinion. my opinion has not changed, i still think he's probably supposed to be from the late 80s, but here's why i think that.

so. if i wanted to be anal retentive as fuck about it, i could say that if deltarune is meant to have a similar in-universe technological development timeline to ours irl, and if deltarune is indeed meant to take place in some analogous place to the united states, then tenna is likely no older than 18 (from 2007). because he's a crt receiving over the air signals, but past 2009 irl it would need to be a digital signal, and i assume deltarune takes place after 2009, and tenna crucially does not appear to have a converter box. which would mean he'd need to have that capability built in.

however, i like. really badly do not think that matters. not only am i positive he's meant to be much older than a tv from 2007, but i just don't think a detail that minuscule would be on anybody's list of priorities when designing an old tv in fiction.

so let's imagine none of that factors into how old he could be at all. what else can we go off of. primarily i want to first look at his design. you'll notice that although he verbally references one, tenna does not actually appear to have a dial in any visual we have of him. he doesn't even look like he has a button array of any kind.

this was extremely uncommon for the 1970s, especially for just everyday family households on an average budget. this wasn't, however, as uncommon after the 80s swung around. you'd still see a lot of tvs with dials on the side, but it wasn't so notably rare to see ones lacking in this control scheme.

part of this is likely due to the invention of the infrared remote, which would take television manufacturing by storm in the 80s. to be clear, wireless remotes for tvs did exist before this, but i specifically do think the zappers are infrared due to their attack patterns and sprite movements. if this is true (and especially if the zappers are universal remotes), then the existence of the zappers would support the assumption that tenna is from the 80s at the very earliest.

as an aside on the topic of tenna's appearance, while i do think the photorealistic images are more of a visual gag than anything meant to be like. concrete canon appearance of the guy. i do want to point out that the ridged edges he has were especially typical of 80s zennith tv sets. which makes sense to me, because zenniths were pretty state-of-the-art at the time.

another thing we could look at for clues to his age is the "programming" itsself. there are a few minor details to this i'd like to point out. none of these necessarily materially impact how old tenna could be, but seeing as he's already designed as a symbolic gesture towards nostalgia, understanding the references made with these small details can help us better construct what timeframe he's meant to evoke.

first of all, his reference to a "cooking channel". correct me if i'm wrong, but i'm pretty sure the first cooking channel broadcast in america was the food network, which is from the 90s. there is also literally a Cooking Channel (proper name) but i think it's from like 2002

secondly, the rhythm minigame. live music performances have been on the air forever and ever, but specifically the channel he's on is one dedicated to music videos. that wasn't hardly a thing at all until mtv. which is from the 80s. (Adding onto this point hours later hi. they're also specifically performing hair metal, which is. 80s.)

thirdly is the existence of lanino and elnina, who are (to me at least) a blatant reference to the weather channel. weather is a staple of television, of course, but i do mean the weather channel specifically. which is from the 80s. (also. this is going to seem like a stretch but the line "weather girls are the wave!" reminds me of the work done by 2nd wave feminists to make it so that more women could go into news network jobs. so that's cool)

i do also want to point out an even smaller tidbit. tenna interrupts (or claims to interrupt) his normal programming for breaking news. this was not impossible, per se, before the 80s, but it didn't become a regular occurrence until the 80s as well, after the inception of CNN. again, this doesn't mean tenna wasn't possibly at all manufactured sooner than this, but thinking about this from a fiction writing perspective, what matters here is what tenna is mean to make the player feel. these references are ones to a world post-cnn, post-food network, post-mtv. it's an expression of fondness for a very specific past.

this is also true in how older tech itsself is utilized. the tv time intro being played back with vhs effects is telling to me, because vhs wasn't the dominant household market video format until the 80s and 90s. this is even present in the format of the game show. it's a merging of the game show concept and the prevalent force of 90s video games. television programs based on video games weren't uncommon at the time, as they were essentially literally an attempt to teach an old dog new tricks. nick arcade came to mind right away for me the first time i saw the boards.

so that's why i think he's supposed to be 80s or 90s tech. honestly, this still makes him a ridiculously old crt. most crts on a regular use schedule will last a while, but only a little over a decade.

anyways so that's my stance. i;m so so tired

#shadow's posts #deltarune spoilers #i'm insane. Hi #long post #<removing the readmore because i have more to say that i'm going to space out in a reblog. Hi

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cypress-punk · 4 months ago

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Monster Hunter Wilds Spoilers ahead:

The Guardians are a really interesting concept to have added to the world of monster hunter. The idea of an artifical or engineered monster has been around for a long time, the first game's art book had the unused concept of the Equal Dragon Weapon which was a Frankenstein's monster stitched together from various dead monsters, and there's some old lore about ancient civilizations with incredible technology all over MH, some of which include elements about being able to control monsters in some way. Now that we've seen the ruins of Wyveria and the Guardians we have a canon picture of what that world was like.

The Guardians do raise a number of questions though, questions that I doubt we'll get strong answers on since MH storytelling has always been a little patchy. We might get some comments in the Wilds art book or something but nothing huge.

The first question and the biggest is this: the Wyverians are stated to have created the Guardians in response to some kind of threat, and that led them to their demise because eventually they built Zoh Shia who seems to have destroyed them somehow. Its unclear what exactly it did. The Wyverians were a post scarcity society with a perpetual motion device in the form of the Dragon Torch. They could engineer entire ecosystems and weather systems. Portions of their capital floated in the air weightlessly. So the question is, WHAT THE FUCK COULD THREATEN THAT KIND OF SOCIETY? Who or what scared them so bad they tried to engineer something like Zoh Shia??? Were there other hyper advanced societies with insane weapons they had to contend with? Or was it threats from natural sources? Was being Wyveria basically a way to make yourself Fatalis bait? Did the Wylk attract elder dragons hungry for the raw energy it could provide them? We know powerful networks of raw energy can form naturally in MH since one was nurturing Xeno'Jivah in World. Maybe there are whole classes of Elder Dragon that smelled the Dragontorch on the wind and went wild. When you consider that Alatreon and Fatalis are basically living nuclear weapons its easy to see why even the Wyverians would fear the Black Dragons or their close cousins. But still i want to know what they were trying to hold off with the Guardians.

A second question that the Guardians raise for me is this: where are the chimeras?. All of the Guardians except Zoh Shia appear to be modified clones of existing monsters. Rathalos, Doshaguma, Odagaron, Seikrets, Anjanath. They're all just an existing monster altered to live off Wylk and follow whatever commands the Wyverians gave them. The only exceptions are Arkveld, who appears to have been extinct even in the time of the Wyverians if I'm understanding the dialogue properly, and was then revived used Guardian technology, a process that seems to have been less successful than with extant monsters given that Guardian Arkveld began to follow its instincts to act as a predator and was able to reproduce, two things we're told normal Guardians do not do. So basically they Wyverians Jurrasic Parked themselves on that one. Zoh Shia is the big outlier of the group, because even though Arkveld was flawed he was still a copy of a real animal. Zoh Shia appears to be the only chimera, and its a hell of a chimera. It seems that the Wyverians took Gore Magala/Shagaru Magala as a base and tried to build a Black Dragon on top of that base, producing something that seems to be more Wylk than meat and possessing insane destructive power, you can see Fatalis and Alatreon in its movements very intentionally. So was Zoh Shia their only Chimera? Did they start trying to engineer entirely new monsters with this walking atom bomb or did they make smaller ones first? I really want to see more fucked up Wylk chimeras that were prototypes of this thing.

#monster hunter wilds #monster hunter wilds spoilers

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a-roguish-gambit · 11 months ago

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I made a turn of the century x men evolution au

Hey everyone so a big special interest of mine is the period from 1900 to about 1928 so I decided what if I took the kids from the X-Men evolution cartoon from their point at the turn of the 21st century and put them at the turn of the 20th century instead...and also added a few characters. I hope you enjoy this. I have a lot for this au, and I'm gonna put it all under the read more.

So Au thoughts

The year is 1912. Xavier has started his institute a few years prior with scott summers and jean grey as students. Scott was adopted by Xavier after his parents died in a train crash and jean comes from a family of doctors and scientists Xavier is friends with.

Because no computers yet, as the microprocessor has yet to be invented, Forge didn't get stuck in a pocket dimention and got to grow up he works for xavier. He helps design and build a modified danger room that's more steam punk/dieselpunk. Lots of things are gear powered and Holograms are projections onto steam curtians. Because no computers, no cerebro. But jean and Xavier have trained themselves to be able to sense those with mutant powers around them and have been working with a network of underground individuals, some cases literally like the morlocks, to find out about new strange individuals popping up in the states. The morlocks are much more involved in this. they are good friends with Xavier and frequently helps young morlocks train their powers.

One of those individuals is Gambit. Gambit is 17 in this and does various jobs for xavier. One is listening through the grape vine for odd individuals popping up. The other is essentially working the danger room with forge. As The danger room is more steampunk/dieselpunk in this, with storm's help as well it can simulate weather events, earth quakes, fires, unstable ground, flooding, (bb gun based) old west shootouts, explosions (thanks to Gambit), search and rescue, avalanche / rock fall settings, and much more.

Gambit helps set up the room and make the mechanisms work. it functions well with automatons, steam engines, pistons, and a lot of theater special effect tricks. Gambit helps forge scrap hunt for machinery to repurpose for it. He has befriended the local street children and finds out from them wherever a factory tosses out a machine.

Speaking of theater though, we have morph as well as a staff member. Kevin is well known fairy(period equivalent to someone who does not fit into either gender) and drag expert from New York where they worked on broadway and a very close friend of Logan. So close they share a bedroom....;)

Morph is there to help with tailoring as well as helping kids who need disguises to pass in public cause of their time in broadway and avoid harassment, like Kurt.

They also help simulate battles in the danger room with foes they have faced off against before.

Kurt doesn't have an image modifier in this obviously. No computers, no digital holograms. But with forge and morph they are able to help him pass. Morph designs pants for him that have a special pocket for his tail to tuck away, as well as boots with special braces that help disguise his digitigrade feet. Morph also helps him with makeup and hair in the morning to hide his blue face and pointed ears.

For his hands forge has built some prothstetic fingers that are controlled by the other fingers in his hand like a puppet, so it appears he has five fingers on each hand covered by riding gloves, as well as colored contact lenses for his eyes to disguise them as brown.

Kurt's parents came to America from Germany with him as a toddler. People found out about their adopted son and they had to flee. They settled in a small German speaking community in the middle of nowhere Iowa where they could be safe. They would have a priest visit Kurt to give him mass in private for his own safety and had a nun come to tutor him. Xavier found out about Kurt through gambits grapevine.

Ororo came from Africa as a citizen of British colony egypt to Jamaica where she met Charles she has family living in the states via her sister who do are wealthy merchants. they were british colony expats that moved to the states to control British imports to the states easier. Thus how we get Evan. Skateboard hasn't been invented yet so he is big into the turn of the century cycling craze as well as roller skates.

Rogue is still a goth. A very very classic goth. Victorian goth. She still dresses like it's the 1800s to in part keep others from touching her skin but also she is just a great appreciator of Poe and Shelly and stoker.

One thing that is different for Scott is that on top of the train crash his brother havoc is still with him at this time. His parents are very, very dead tho. No alien rescues. (Forgot to draw Alex tho but he's there as are the minor character students)

Beast is also there more from the begining as a teacher he helps take care of the kids medical needs. He got kicked out of his scientific circle, not cause of his mutant ness that came later, but because he insisted doctors must wash their hands before interacting with patients.

Jean grey is a highly educated absolute Gibson girl. She and Kitty sneak out to do suffragette stuff regularly. Speaking of, kitty is definitely a girl of the new century. Wants to go to college one day with Jean. Insists on wearing riding/sports pants wherever she goes. She is girly in certain ways, but defs is a very modern young woman. She likes helping Forge out with his projects.

Magneto's hatred for humanity in this case comes from his survival of the pogroms of eastern Europe only to see there is still antisemitism once escaping them. And mystique has a boarding house where the brotherhood kids live, but she wasn't principal of the bayview school.

Wolverine is a cowboy in this au yes. He has a horse, but he's also toying with some of the very few motorcycles. They are more of dirt bikes at this point tho, so his horse his still his go too. It's a deep black mare named Blackbird. He does not have an adimantium skeleton but his claws have been capped with silver to help protect them.

No x jet but they do have a few biplanes they are training with. Forge is modifying them to be able to cary more people. So far he's made one that can vary five.

Gambit introduces everyone to jazz cause it hasn't left Louisiana yet. He brought his Grammaphone and all hell broke loose from there.

Also rogue having a bit more of a high society upbringing thanks to irene. Gambit hasn't had a day of real school as public school wants universally established until the 1910s. He knows his reading, writing, and arithmetic from Sunday school and such and whatever jean luc had him taught, but he's excited to learn about what the kids are learning about in their normal school.

Rogue brings him her study material and teaches it to him and in return he teaches her the various crafts and skills he learned in the bayou and as a member of the theives guild.

Hope you guys enjoy all this!!! Please feel free to share your thoughts!

Tried to keep things period accurate outfits wise.

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mariacallous · 8 months ago

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This is a gift article.

The truth is, it’s getting harder to describe the extent to which a meaningful percentage of Americans have dissociated from reality. As Hurricane Milton churned across the Gulf of Mexico last night, I saw an onslaught of outright conspiracy theorizing and utter nonsense racking up millions of views across the internet. The posts would be laughable if they weren’t taken by many people as gospel. Among them: Infowars’ Alex Jones, who claimed that Hurricanes Milton and Helene were “weather weapons” unleashed on the East Coast by the U.S. government, and “truth seeker” accounts on X that posted photos of condensation trails in the sky to baselessly allege that the government was “spraying Florida ahead of Hurricane Milton�� in order to ensure maximum rainfall, “just like they did over Asheville!”

As Milton made landfall, causing a series of tornados, a verified account on X reposted a TikTok video of a massive funnel cloud with the caption “WHAT IS HAPPENING TO FLORIDA?!” The clip, which was eventually removed but had been viewed 662,000 times as of yesterday evening, turned out to be from a video of a CGI tornado that was originally published months ago. Scrolling through these platforms, watching them fill with false information, harebrained theories, and doctored images—all while panicked residents boarded up their houses, struggled to evacuate, and prayed that their worldly possessions wouldn’t be obliterated overnight—offered a portrait of American discourse almost too bleak to reckon with head-on.

Even in a decade marred by online grifters, shameless politicians, and an alternative right-wing-media complex pushing anti-science fringe theories, the events of the past few weeks stand out for their depravity and nihilism. As two catastrophic storms upended American cities, a patchwork network of influencers and fake-news peddlers have done their best to sow distrust, stoke resentment, and interfere with relief efforts. But this is more than just a misinformation crisis. To watch as real information is overwhelmed by crank theories and public servants battle death threats is to confront two alarming facts: first, that a durable ecosystem exists to ensconce citizens in an alternate reality, and second, that the people consuming and amplifying those lies are not helpless dupes but willing participants.

Some of the lies and obfuscation are politically motivated, such as the claim that FEMA is offering only $750 in total to hurricane victims who have lost their home. (In reality, FEMA offers $750 as immediate “Serious Needs Assistance” to help people get basic supplies such as food and water.) Donald Trump, J. D. Vance, and Fox News have all repeated that lie. Trump also posted (and later deleted) on Truth Social that FEMA money was given to undocumented migrants, which is untrue. Elon Musk, who owns X, claimed—without evidence—that FEMA was “actively blocking shipments and seizing goods and services locally and locking them away to state they are their own. It’s very real and scary how much they have taken control to stop people helping.” That post has been viewed more than 40 million times. Other influencers, such as the Trump sycophant Laura Loomer, have urged their followers to disrupt the disaster agency’s efforts to help hurricane victims. “Do not comply with FEMA,” she posted on X. “This is a matter of survival.”

The result of this fearmongering is what you might expect. Angry, embittered citizens have been harassing government officials in North Carolina, as well as FEMA employees. According to an analysis by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, an extremism-research group, “Falsehoods around hurricane response have spawned credible threats and incitement to violence directed at the federal government,” including “calls to send militias to face down FEMA.” The study also found that 30 percent of the X posts analyzed by ISD “contained overt antisemitic hate, including abuse directed at public officials such as the Mayor of Asheville, North Carolina; the FEMA Director of Public Affairs; and the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security.” The posts received a collective 17.1 million views as of October 7.

Online, first responders are pleading with residents, asking for their help to combat the flood of lies and conspiracy theories. FEMA Administrator Deanne Criswell said that the volume of misinformation could hamper relief efforts. “If it creates so much fear that my staff doesn’t want to go out in the field, then we’re not going to be in a position where we can help people,” she said in a news conference on Tuesday. In Pensacola, North Carolina, Assistant Fire Chief Bradley Boone vented his frustrations on Facebook: “I’m trying to rescue my community,” he said in a livestream. “I ain’t got time. I ain’t got time to chase down every Facebook rumor … We’ve been through enough.”

It is difficult to capture the nihilism of the current moment. The pandemic saw Americans, distrustful of authority, trying to discredit effective vaccines, spreading conspiracy theories, and attacking public-health officials. But what feels novel in the aftermath of this month’s hurricanes is how the people doing the lying aren’t even trying to hide the provenance of their bullshit. Similarly, those sharing the lies are happy to admit that they do not care whether what they’re pushing is real or not. Such was the case last week, when Republican politicians shared an AI-generated viral image of a little girl holding a puppy while supposedly fleeing Helene. Though the image was clearly fake and quickly debunked, some politicians remained defiant. “Y’all, I don’t know where this photo came from and honestly, it doesn’t matter,” Amy Kremer, who represents Georgia on the Republican National Committee, wrote after sharing the fake image. “I’m leaving it because it is emblematic of the trauma and pain people are living through right now.”

Kremer wasn’t alone. The journalist Parker Molloy compiled screenshots of people “acknowledging that this image is AI but still insisting that it’s real on some deeper level”—proof, Molloy noted, that we’re “living in the post-reality.” The technology writer Jason Koebler argued that we’ve entered the “‘Fuck It’ Era” of AI slop and political messaging, with AI-generated images being used to convey whatever partisan message suits the moment, regardless of truth.

This has all been building for more than a decade. On The Colbert Report, back in 2005, Stephen Colbert coined the word truthiness, which he defined as “the belief in what you feel to be true rather than what the facts will support.” This reality-fracturing is the result of an information ecosystem that is dominated by platforms that offer financial and attentional incentives to lie and enrage, and to turn every tragedy and large event into a shameless content-creation opportunity. This collides with a swath of people who would rather live in an alternate reality built on distrust and grievance than change their fundamental beliefs about the world. But the misinformation crisis is not always what we think it is.

So much of the conversation around misinformation suggests that its primary job is to persuade. But as Michael Caulfield, an information researcher at the University of Washington, has argued, “The primary use of ‘misinformation’ is not to change the beliefs of other people at all. Instead, the vast majority of misinformation is offered as a service for people to maintain their beliefs in face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.” This distinction is important, in part because it assigns agency to those who consume and share obviously fake information. What is clear from comments such as Kremer’s is that she is not a dupe; although she may come off as deeply incurious and shameless, she is publicly admitting to being an active participant in the far right’s world-building project, where feel is always greater than real.

What we’re witnessing online during and in the aftermath of these hurricanes is a group of people desperate to protect the dark, fictitious world they’ve built. Rather than deal with the realities of a warming planet hurling once-in-a-generation storms at them every few weeks, they’d rather malign and threaten meteorologists, who, in their minds, are “nothing but a trained subversive liar programmed to spew stupid shit to support the global warming bullshit,” as one X user put it. It is a strategy designed to silence voices of reason, because those voices threaten to expose the cracks in their current worldview. But their efforts are doomed, futile. As one dispirited meteorologist wrote on X this week, “Murdering meteorologists won’t stop hurricanes.” She followed with: “I can’t believe I just had to type that.”

What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political. Nor does it explain what is really happening, which is nothing less than a cultural assault on any person or institution that operates in reality. If you are a weatherperson, you’re a target. The same goes for journalists, election workers, scientists, doctors, and first responders. These jobs are different, but the thing they share is that they all must attend to and describe the world as it is. This makes them dangerous to people who cannot abide by the agonizing constraints of reality, as well as those who have financial and political interests in keeping up the charade.

In one sense, these attacks—and their increased desperation—make sense. The world feels dark; for many people, it’s tempting to meet that with a retreat into the delusion that they’ve got everything figured out, that the powers that be have conspired against them directly. But in turning away, they exacerbate a crisis that has characterized the Trump era, one that will reverberate to Election Day and beyond. Americans are divided not just by political beliefs but by whether they believe in a shared reality—or desire one at all.

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sw5w · 1 year ago

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Royal Cruiser Above the Clouds

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:02:28

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reasonsforhope · 2 years ago

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"Any good gardener knows what a good de-weeding can do for a vegetable garden. As it turns out, it’s much the same for coral reefs.

Following a volunteer “sea-weeding” program launched in Australia, scientists are witnessing compounding coral recovery both in quantity and diversity, and suggest that this simple method has the power to transform degraded reefs overrun by macroalgae.

In a balanced ecosystem, macroalgae is kept in check by the size and health of corals, but as extreme weather events or coral bleaching causes some sections of reef to die, macroalgae has no other neighbor keeping a check on its spread.

Over a period of three years, the joint Earthwatch Institute program led by James Cook University Senior Research Officer Hillary Smith and Professor David Bourne, also at JCU and the Australian Institute of Marine Science, has organized volunteer citizen scientists to help remove macroalgae at two experimental reef sites.

The results of the first three years of work and study have now been published in the Journal of Applied Ecology, and they show a 600% increase in coral recovery rates.

“It’s just like weeding your garden,” Smith said. “Every time we return, the seaweed is growing back less and less, so this method could provide lasting benefit without requiring endless effort.” ...

The importance of the study, Smith details, is that a lot of reef recovery efforts globally are powered by expensive, high-tech, and experimental solutions. The study hoped to show that manual de-weeding was just as effective, and thereby encourage organizations or nations that lack the tech or funding of a country like Australia to pursue sea-weeding as a way of protecting their corals.

“We have yet to see a plateau in coral growth within these plots at Magnetic Island, which is characterized as one of the degraded reefs on the Great Barrier Reef,” Smith said. “We also found an increase in coral diversity, so this method is benefitting a wide range of different coral types.”

Smith said her team are now scoping other locations where the sea-weeding technique could be useful, including the Whitsunday Islands, which are home to a different species of predominant seaweed.

They also want to employ them in French Polynesia, Indonesia, and even Singapore, where experts have identified out-of-control macroalgae spread along coral reefs."

-via Good News Network, September 19, 2023

#algae #seaweed #coral #coral reef #great barrier reef #australia #biodiversity #ecosystem restoration #ecosystem #good news #hope #hope posting

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kendallroydefender · 1 year ago

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Cowboy take me away (Kayce Dutton x Roy!Reader) Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary: You’re Y/n Roy the youngest daughter of one of the richest men in America but all that money can’t make you happy and you decide to move to Montana for a while. But what happens when you meet the youngest son of another influential man?

A/n: it’s here!!! This is mainly a Yellowstone fanfic and you don’t have to watch Sucession to follow along!

You stepped out of the car. The car you bought a week ago, when you were sure leaving was the right thing to do. The warm weather hitting your skin. Breathing in the fresh air after a long drive.

You were the daughter of one of the most influential men in the country. Your father, Logan Roy, was a media mogul and owned one of the biggest news networks in the world. But that came with a price, you had always been in the public eye and on top of that your father wasn’t an easy person to grow up with. Now you’re siblings still fought over being his favorite, still fought for his love. A few weeks ago, after thanksgiving where he hit your nephew you finally realized that he would never change.

So you’d made the decision to leave New York behind, to take a few months off in the country side. Hopefully your mental health would get better out here. And you’ve always wanted to visit Yellowstone after seeing pictures of the stunning landscape. To no one’s surprise your family wasn’t the biggest fans of your decision to go, especially your father who always wanted his kids close to control them. But you were a grown woman, yes you were still in your twenties but an adult nonetheless.

Your siblings thought the idea was ridiculous except for your oldest brother Connor who loved that you would follow his footsteps (as he said). He had also bought a ranch in New Mexico where he spent most of his days.

Now you weren’t so sure anymore if this decision was the right one. You had never left the city for more than a few weeks, hell you were a city person. And you had never been alone anywhere. Your family and they’re staff or your personal staff were with you. But if you’d never tried you would never know.

You took your suitcases and brought the to the small house you were renting. You had put all your clothes into the closets and your toiletries in the bathroom before you went into the small garden behind the house. It was well kept, a bit whimsical and overgrown in some places but beautiful nonetheless. A set of chairs on the lawn and a swingseat under a tree. Yeah, you could do with this.

You made some food with the groceries you picked up on the way here and ate your dinner on the couch. Everything was nice until the evening arrived.

You should have seen it coming, It was your first night and you were already bored. 'Off to a great start' you thought to yourself.

After a quick google search you made your way to one of the bars in town.

Inside it was quite crowded. A band played country music and some people danced. You went to the counter and ordered a simple drink, nothing too fancy like you would have ordered in New York.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, it were mostly cowboys and cowgirls. You must have stood out quite a bit - not too much though since you’ve left your fancier Roy clothing in New York, taking only sweaters, shirts and jeans with you. It was nice though.

”Hey, Tom have you seen my sister?.“ a voice next to you said. You looked to your right and spotted a quite handsome man. He seemed to be around your age maybe a little older, with longish brown hair and brown eyes. He wore a trucker cap backwards on his head and a dark shirt. He looked rugged in the best way. His eyes landed on you and you quickly averted your eyes even though it was probably too late - he had caught you staring.

You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment and you waited a second before you looked back at him.

”'ve never seen you around here.“ he said

”Just got here today“ you told him with a shrug and a smirk appeared on his face hearing that you didn’t sounded like you were from Montana at all.

”Where’re you’re from?“ He asked

”Uh, New York.“ You said and he let out a low blow

”She’s over there.“ the barkeeper interrupted your conversation, pointing his finger in one direction

”Uh-huh. Thanks Tom.“ the man said before he turned to you again

”I’ll have to go but have fun in Montana.“ he said before he turned to leave. After a few steps he turned his head and your eyes met again, with a small nod he turned around once more.

You would lie if you said you weren’t disappointed by him having to leave so quickly. But it seemed like he was just here to pick his sister up anyway and you didn’t even knew if he was single.

The next few days you spend getting settled into the new house. You went to the grocery store, something you haven’t done in years since your family always had people to do these kind of things. But you liked it. Liked being responsible for yourself and you liked being able to meet and converse with others.

Your family always stayed in their circle, almost every meeting with someone you didn’t knew was business related and talk was always about work.

You took walks around town and enjoyed the scenery.

Today you had planned to go on a hike. You looked up the route beforehand so you wouldn’t end up lost. There were other people on a hike but not too many.

Everything was going well. That is until you must have stepped onto a stone.

You fell and felt a sharp pain shooting through your ankle. Shit, if this wasn’t the biggest city girl hurts herself while hiking was the biggest prejudice.

You started to get up when you heard the sound of a horse walking close to you. You looked up as the animal came into your view and felt yourself getting warm. Of course it was the hot Cowboy from the other night.

”You alright?“ He asked and you shrugged

”Yeah, I just sit in the dirt for fun.“

”Shit no reason to get all fuss .“ He said but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He got down from his horse and tied it on a nearby tree.

”Lemme see.“ his voice had softened as he crouched down next to you, carefully taking your foot in his hands. Twisting it gently and putting some pressure on some spots. At one point you let out an ”Ouch.“

”It’s not broken - just twisted. Come on let me bring you down.“ he offered his hand to you and you gladly took it. He helped you up, looping his arm around your back so you could lean on him.

Once you were sitting on the horse he got up too, sitting in front of you.

”You can hold onto me.“ he told you, voice kinder than you’d expected.

You intertwined your fingers in front of his stomach. You felt warmth spread in your stomach.

He took the reins and the horse started moving. You looked around, taking in the scenery.

”Wow it’s even more beautiful up here.“ you said in a low tone.

Kayce smiled at your words. To be honest he was maybe a little glad about the fact that it was you who he found. You had come to his mind a few times since he’d met you a few days ago.

You had intrigued him, there was an air about you that he liked and felt like he wanted to find out more about you.

”Where are we going by the way? Not that I think you’ll kidnap me on a horse.“

”My fathers Ranch. My cars there, I can drive you home.“

”Oh. Thank you.“ you said

”No need to. Just basic human decency.“ he said and you cold hear the smile in his voice.

”Yeah, I’m not used to that in the city.“ you chuckled in wich he joined in.

”Why’d you come here?“ he asked

”I needed a fresh start. I wasn’t happy in my, uhm, my living situation in New York. I knew I would get depressed if I stayed.“

He hummed

”Are you feeling better now?“

”To be honest I’m not sure. It feels great that I’m away from everything but I don’t know anyone here yet… so it’s kind of lonely.“

He hummed as an answer.

The rest of the ride to the ranch was filled with easy chatting. You found out about that his Dad owned a Ranch where he worked as a horsetrainer. You told him you worked in Media at your fathers company, not telling him who your father was.

The ranch was gorgeous. A big stone house as the main building, some stables and a few smaller houses. You earned a few looks from some of the cowboys leaning against a fence.

He got down and helped you safely get back to the ground.

”I’d show you around but I think your foot wouldn’t be too fond of that.“

”Maybe another time.“ you told him and he studied you for a second

”Yeah, another time.“

He had given the horse to one of the men standing close by, who was called Jimmy. Telling him to bring it back into the stable.

He helped you into his red truck and closed the door after you sat in the vehicle.

You told him where the place you stayed in was and he seemed to know where to go. The conversation was easy between you, he pointed out some places.

”You can get good burgers there.“ he said pointing to a diner

”We could do something if you’d like? I mean because you said you felt kind of lonely.“

”Oh? Yeah that be great.“ you smiled wich caused him to smile too

”Okay.“

He helped you up the front stairs of your place and you waved as he drove away. With a warm feeling and the thought that maybe you had made a friend you went inside.

#kayce dutton fanfic #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton fic #kayce dutton imagine #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone imagine

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reality-detective · 3 months ago

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MON. 10 MARCH 2025: UNSTOPPABLE! 300,000 Military Troops Deployed as the EBS Countdown Begins—Unleashing the Greatest Revelation in Human History!

· The final chapter is here. The Emergency Broadcast System (EBS) is set to detonate a truth bomb so massive it will shatter the Deep State’s (DS) grip on humanity. The global takedown is in motion.

· Trump and the Military Execute the Final Phase: Under Donald J. Trump and a worldwide military coalition, 300,000 troops are executing the most decisive operation in history. March 2025 marks the moment the DS feared most. There are no escape routes left. Every move has been countered.

· The DS has tried false flags, financial collapses, and new pandemics to stop what’s coming. But every plan has been intercepted. The EBS activation is no longer a possibility—it’s inevitable.

· Deep State Strongholds Raided Globally: The military’s worldwide operations are exposing the darkest secrets of the DS:

· Ukraine: The Real Battlefield – Coalition forces uncovered underground bioweapon labs designed for mass extermination.

· U.S. Underground Bases Neutralized – From Denver Airport to Dulce, NM, DS trafficking networks and experimental labs have been eliminated.

· The Vatican’s Hidden World – Ancient tunnels beneath Vatican City reveal centuries of ritualistic abuse and financial corruption.

· Star Link: The DS’s Worst Nightmare: Elon Musk’s Star Link AI “Prometheus” has gained full control of global communications. DS assets attempting cyberattacks and retaliatory strikes have been intercepted and neutralized.

· EBS Will Reveal: Robotic Impostors: Evidence proving world leaders were AI-controlled puppets. Secret Space Program: Military raids on DS bases on the Moon and Mars have seized hidden spacecraft. Weather Manipulation Proof: Devices used to orchestrate hurricanes, earthquakes, and droughts have been seized.

· High-Profile Arrests Underway

· Rothschild and Rockefeller Dynasties – Their global financial empire is being dismantled.

· Hollywood Elites – High-profile figures vanishing from public view.

· Media Executives – CEOs arrested for coordinating DS propaganda.

· GESARA Begins: The People’s Wealth Restored

· Debt forgiveness has begun. Student loans, mortgages, and credit card balances are vanishing.

· Stolen DS wealth is being repatriated to fund GESARA initiatives.

· The Federal Reserve is DEAD. The Quantum Financial System (QFS) takes over.

· Final Countdown: The Storm Is Here

· The final power outages and internet blackouts will soon begin as the last security measures are implemented. When the EBS activates, the world will never be the same.

· The DS is falling. Humanity is rising. Prepare for the moment that will redefine history. 🤔

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reyaint · 1 month ago

Text

futuristic dr | virelia + neovista

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date: may 14 2025. i'm figuring out how to format this from my script so it's probably gonna look like a mess i'm sorry haha. i may edit this to add more info if i feel like it.

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✧˖*°࿐the state

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ virelia ☆ 𓂃 › official title. The Sovereign Technocratic Republic of Virelia ☆ 𓂃 › motto. “precision. progress. perfection.”

virelia represents a paradigm shift in governance — not built on ideological revolution but on technological supremacy. it emerged in the late 21st century after a coalition of corporate leaders, scientists, and futurists proposed a self-regulating state built around data-driven governance and environmental sustainability.

virelia is a beacon of technological advancement, a sprawling self-sustaining state located on the western coast of North America. founded in the late 21st century, it has quickly risen to prominence as a futuristic utopia where human ambition and technology intertwine seamlessly.

this city-state operates with cutting-edge infrastructure, clean energy solutions, and unprecedented levels of automation, making it a model of the future. however, its advancement comes with hidden costs, such as surveillance, control, and the loss of personal freedoms for some citizens.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ location. built on reclaimed land along the coast, the state is positioned near mountains, leveraging its natural terrain for sustainability. this combination of oceanfront and mountainous landscape allows for the development of a beautiful yet highly structured environment. ☆ 𓂃 › climate. Virelia enjoys mild weather and pristine air quality thanks to its advanced environmental control systems. artificial rainfall helps balance the region's climate, ensuring that both agriculture and ecosystems thrive in a sustainable way.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ security. Virelia's government promises safety and order, with AI-driven law enforcement and near-complete surveillance throughout the city. While this has reduced crime, it has also led to a society where privacy is almost nonexistent. there are whispers of corruption and a power struggle between mega-corporations and the state apparatus, but these are rarely seen by the public eye.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ infrastructure. the state boasts hyperloop systems for rapid transportation, vertical farming to maintain food supplies, solar-powered highways, and drone-based delivery networks that make logistics seamless and efficient. the city is powered by renewable energy sources, making it one of the most environmentally friendly cities on Earth.

*ೃ༄government

Virelia operates as a technocratic-republic hybrid, where leadership is shared between elected officials and influential corporate leaders, scientists, and engineers. while democracy is maintained on paper, the wealth and power held by corporations, especially megacorporations like Orbis, have a significant influence over the decision-making process.

�� ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ the core assembly. a ruling body made of 50% elected officials and 50% appointed technocrats from approved corporate, scientific, and engineering councils.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ citizen score index (CSI). citizens are ranked via a complex index measuring productivity, compliance, social behavior, and cybernetic compatibility.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ the data purity initiative. Virelia heavily regulates access to public data and surveillance feeds. those who attempt to mask or alter their data trail risk demotion in social status or even imprisonment.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ a controlled utopia. on the surface, Virelia is a utopia, offering its citizens a high standard of living, access to the latest technology, and the promise of a pollution-free environment. however, this idealized world comes at a cost—strict regulations on cybernetics, data privacy, and social freedoms. citizens are encouraged to embrace technology, but those who resist are often marginalized or silenced.

✧˖*°࿐the city

neovista is a megacity — a glittering neon spire among the clouds and an undercity of grit and rebellion. It’s a contradiction: a technological utopia resting on a foundation of exploitation and resistance.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ common mods. ocular overlays, subdermal HUDs, neural ports, smart limbs.

*ೃ༄black market and underground tech

located beneath the official grid of Neovista, in the Vein or the Undervault.

დ࿐ ‎˗ˋ traders deal in: ☆ 𓂃 › memory-modding tech ☆ 𓂃 › neural firewalls ☆ 𓂃 › blackbox implants ☆ 𓂃 › emotion regulators ☆ 𓂃 › discontinued weapon augmentations

hackclans (like SpiralZero or Echo Drift) operate in these markets, building custom tools to counter HALO’s surveillance net.

while Orbis Corporation and other megacorporations offer cutting-edge cybernetics, there is a thriving black market for illegal modifications and illicit technology. from hacked neural implants to stolen AI software, the underground tech scene is a dangerous place but provides an outlet for those who cannot afford or do not want to abide by the official channels.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ pirates and hackers: groups like The Shattermen exploit these underground markets, seeking to disrupt corporate control by stealing and redistributing technology. they often employ cybernetic pirates who operate outside the law, dealing in anything from illegal AI software to underground body augmentations.

*ೃ༄energy & environmental tech

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ skyharbor towers: pull moisture and solar energy, creating perpetual artificial rainfall and maintaining air quality.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ cryoroot systems: bioengineered roots that store solar power and regulate temperature in city zones.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ ecozones: each district has its own energy quota; exceeding it triggers rolling blackouts in poorer sectors.

virelia is powered by renewable energy sources like solar and wind, and artificial rainfall systems maintain a stable climate. advanced energy storage technology allows the city to operate efficiently even in low-light conditions.

the city uses vertical farming and aquaponics to maintain food production in a way that integrates seamlessly into urban spaces, providing sustenance for its citizens without relying on traditional agricultural methods.

*ೃ༄transportation & infrastructure

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ hyperloop arteries: Connect districts with high-speed magnetized transit tubes.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ skyrails: glass-bottomed tramways suspended between megastructures.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ drone skynet: hundreds of drones transport packages, law enforcement supplies, and emergency aid across the city.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ vertical cities: skyscrapers built as self-contained ecosystems—residential, commercial, medical, and agricultural facilities stacked together.

neovista's transportation system is revolutionary, with hyperloop networks connecting different districts, allowing for ultra-fast travel. drone-based delivery systems handle everything from groceries to medical supplies, and personal autonomous vehicles are common on the roads.

the city has designed solar-powered highways and green rooftops that house both parks and renewable energy infrastructure.

*ೃ༄law enforcement & governance

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ enforcement is done by VEC and HALO drones. there are no beat cops — instead, predictive policing algorithms determine where violence might happen and deploy units in advance.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ☆ citizen compliance officers (CCOs) are citizens elevated by the CSI system, acting as civilian enforcers with surveillance privileges.

most investigations are conducted digitally—by scanning memory logs, personal feeds, and neural output rather than physical clues.

*ೃ༄cybernetics & body augmentations

cybernetic normalization is pervasive in Neovista. while minor enhancements like augmented vision, neural interfaces, and biomechanical limbs are common, full-body conversions are rare and often subject to strict regulations.

body augmentations are not just a physical enhancement but have become part of the culture. the wealthy often choose to augment themselves for beauty or efficiency, while those in the slums might use augmentations to survive or gain an edge in the fight for resources.

*ೃ༄technology in neovista & virelia

neovista represents the pinnacle of technology, where AI and humans coexist, yet there is a deep tension between innovation and freedom. virelia’s citizens enjoy unparalleled access to technology but must constantly navigate the surveillance state and corporate control.

virelia’s technology fosters a sense of constant progress, but this has made the city and its citizens vulnerable to the very forces they sought to escape—power, control, and the erosion of personal freedoms.

*ೃ༄visuals.

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✦ ˚ — THE MAIN DISTRCITS

☆. MIRROR DISTRICT —

☆. U DISTRICT —

☆. DREAM DISTRICT —

☆. 127 DISTRICT —

#reyaint #reality shifting #shiftblr #reality shifter #shifting #shifting community #shifting motivation #anti shifters dni #dr scrapbook #dr world #futuristic dr

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