#defining one's entire life: The Correct Dream Job] & then Failing to push it or just express it & be understood ''correctly'' even if i Did

[kumeko]

A/N: For the End of the Universe Zine, I wanted to explore a small story in a dystopian world

Summary: In a dystopian world, Keith took his small pleasures. His drives while dropping illegal goods. His ever-complaining mechanic and his low repair prices. The rare night with Shiro. He didn’t need more than that.

He definitely didn’t need Shiro’s dreams of saving everyone, of saving anyone.

…

…

…

…

“Jeez.” Hunk squatted down next to the dented motorcycle, his hand hovering over the metal like he didn’t know where to touch. Horrified, he looked up at Keith. “What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing unusual.” Keith shrugged, his hands in his leather jacket. Considering how fast he had driven to reach here, his black clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably and he really wanted a shower. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t.” Hunk tied a dirty bandanna around his head. Keith was never sure if that was to protect his hair or if he just thought it looked cool; if it was the former, judging by the dirty overalls and grease stains on his face, it was a failed effort. “I thought transporters had to be careful.”

“Careful and quick,” Keith corrected, walking over to a side table. Pushing away the cigarette butts and bottle caps, he picked up a newspaper. Replicants Stage Coupscreamed the top headline. “And even then it’s hard to avoid the government dogs.”

Hunk tapped the side of the motorcycle and the pedal fell off with a loud clatter. Groaning, Hunk shot Keith a baleful glare. “Why? I give you a great bike and every single time you break it.”

“It’s either that or my life,” Keith pointed out. He flipped through the newspaper quickly, scanning headlines. Issues with the current president, interest rates rising again, a food shortage with no end. The same old fare, nothing at all unusual about the headlines. When Hunk didn’t say anything, he rolled up the paper with a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“…that’s what you always say,” Hunk grumbled, accepting the apology nonetheless. Pulling out his tool kit, he sat down next to the bike. “It’ll take a day or two to get in top condition.” Pointing a wrench at a grey box perched on a chair, he added, “Oh, and deliver that to Pidge while you wait.”

“Huh?” Keith crossed his arms. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a transporter?” Hunk rolled his eyes. “It’ll be the easiest job you’ve had. Nothing dangerous inside, no one chasing you. Just do it.”

Keith raised a brow. “And how much are you paying me?”

“I’m fixing your bike.” He tapped the back threateningly with the wrench. “You wanna get stuck here forever?”

“Fair point.” Picking up the box, he almost dropped it in surprise. Considering his job, Keith was pretty strong but that would just barely help him with this package. “What do you have in here? It weighs a ton.”

“Spare parts, an engine to take a part, the usual things.” Already in work mode, Hunk absentmindedly waved him off. “Just get it to her today, she has a client.”

-x-

The streets were as dirty and crowded as ever, with throngs of people flowing to and from work. Or to and from the pleasure district, to be exact. Popup shops crowded every corner, offering anything from drugs to weapons to the latest stolen technology. Neon-coloured signs hung off various buildings, enticing pedestrians to enter.

Keith pushed his way forward, his gaze firmly fixed in front of him. He hadn’t missed any of this while he was on the road. There wasn’t really anything keeping him here, fixed to this city. Hunk was a great mechanic but they were a dime a dozen, one in every town. No, to be exact, every town was the same. The same grey, the same dirt, the sense of loneliness and loss.

A world in greyscale. The only time he saw colour was when he was racing down the highway, an illegal package in his satchel.

-x-

The bells chimed as he entered Pidge’s repair shop. A small space, squeezed into the very end of a depilated building, Keith had walked past it three times before spotting it. Inside, the white shelves were lined with the latest in limb replacements, fine technology that actually made it better to lose a body part than to have it.

“In the back,” Pidge called out cheerfully, followed by the sound of metal clicks. She was with a customer then.

“I swear your place gets smaller every time I come,” Keith said dryly. A lightbulb flickered as he made his way to the back room. Even the space between the shelves felt narrower than the last time he came.

“Or you’re just getting fatter,” Pidge shot back, a pleasing lilt to her voice. Someone was in a good mood today.

“Like that’s possible.” Keith snorted, waving a package as he entered Pidge’s unofficial clinic. “Hunk wanted you to have this.”

At one point, the room had probably been a manager’s room or something like that. Now there were curtains on windows and a long bed for the particularly strenuous limb repairs. Not that Pidge’s current operation seemed like one of those. Seated on a worn-out chair, she had her latest patient sitting across from her, his mechanical arm in her lap. A man with a streak of white hair. He glanced up and Keith almost forgot to breath.

Shiro.

Shiro was back.

“Must be the parts I ordered.” Still tinkering with the arm, Pidge glanced over her shoulder. “Just put it on the table, I’ll take a look after.”

“Sure.” Keith tore his eyes away from Shiro long enough to set the box down. Shiro was back. Trying not to sound overeager, he asked, “What happened to you?”

“The usual.” Shiro winced as Pidge tried to reconnect the arm. “There was a trap. We almost got caught.”

“And then your hand got caught instead,” Pidge chimed in, closing an eye as she examined her handiwork. “What’s this, the tenth replacement? There’s a reason you’re my best customer.”

“Eleventh,” Shiro corrected with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh. It’s a good thing I don’t paste my name on these babies, otherwise I’d be dead right now.” Pidge grimaced. Somehow, Keith didn’t think that would save her for too long. Her work was too advanced, too impressive, and all it’d take was a couple of questions to find out just who made the rebellion’s general’s arm.

Taking a deep breath, Keith finally turned around and gave Shiro a proper once over. Dressed in a tank top and sweat pants, it was easy to see that there were no injuries on him. There wasn’t any blood or bandages. A relief, considering it all. It was a rare time when Shiro got away with just a broken prosthetic. Noticing his stare, Shiro smiled. “We didn’t lose anyone, at least.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about. At all. Keith crossed his arms, his eyes roving over Shiro’s biceps, his well-defined chest, and trying not to remember what it felt like to have that body curled over his. To have those hands on him. “I didn’t think you did. There was nothing in the newspapers.”

“Yeah, I guess they’d mention it if they caught us.” Shiro lowered his gaze. “Especially if they caught Allura. The rebellion would be over in an instant.”

“Rebellion.” Pidge clicked her tongue, finally setting down her tools. “You’re making it sound better than just a rag-tag of people who still think they change something.”

“We can,” Shiro answered simply.

No, you can’t, Keith thought, and perhaps more so than the world they lived in, that was the real tragedy: hope.

-x-

This wasn’t love. This was sex, pure and simple. A raw need, a primal urge. A way to forget the present. A way to feel something other than despair.

Keith bit Shiro’s throat, feeling the resulting rumble tremor through this body. Shiro’s hand interlaced in his. His nails scratched on Shiro’s back. All he could smell was Shiro’s musky scent. All he could feel was Shiro’s touch. Nothing else existed—not the road, not the government, not the possibility of death.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned, but Keith didn’t say anything back. He refused to.

This wasn’t love and therefore, he didn’t have anything to lose.

-x-

Through the half-open blinds, neon lights spilled into Keith’s bedroom. It was a spartanly furnished room, consisting of just a bed and a table. And now, Shiro, who was lying face down in a pillow to block out the light. The pinks and oranges from the street signs painted Shiro’s pale back and Keith traced familiar patterns over the many scars that littered his partner’s skin. The one on his shoulder blade, from when he’d been thrown in prison for eight months. The one on his side, from when a gun had almost hit his stomach.

Propping his head up on his hand, Keith idly touched the scar on Shiro’s lower back. Hearing Shiro’s breathing change, Keith asked, “Why do you fight?”

For a long moment, he thought Shiro was going to pretend to be asleep. Instead, he finally turned over, the sheets tangling up around his legs as he stared up at Keith. His single white lock glowed in the dim light. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“There’s no right, not anymore. Not here.” Keith dismissed the argument entirely. That was old world crap. His nail scratched line left by a blade on Shiro’s chest.

“There’s always a right. Especially here, especially now,” Shiro countered, grabbing Keith’s hand. “If I don’t fight, then who will?”

“Someone else.” Keith lowered his eyes. They had this same discussion every time, this useless argument that never changed anything. Soon, Shiro would disappear again, off on some doomed rebellion plot or the other. Maybe he’d die this time, his picture plastered on the photos.

“There’s no one else.” Shiro tightened his grip, interlacing their hands. “Just us.”

And maybe that was true too. But Keith wouldn’t stay around to find out—if he was going to be left again, he might as well leave first. There was always something that had to be transported, some job that needed doing. He’d find one as soon as his bike was fixed.

Instead of answering, he pressed his lips on Shiro’s chest, his hand already reaching down. At least during sex, he didn’t have to think these useless thoughts.

-x-

“All done.” Hunk proudly wiped his greasy hands on a dirty towel and Keith wasn’t sure if his hands or the towel were dirtier than before. Holding onto the handlebars, he glared. “At least give it a few weeks before you break it.”

“No promises.” Prying the bike free, Keith gave it a once over. It looked almost new, except for the scratch on the side. “Impressive.”

“Of course it is! Who do you think you’re talking to?” Excited, Hunk tapped on the engine. “I also spruced up the engine a bit—it’ll go a little faster than before.”

“Nice.” Sling his leg over, Keith slipped onto the seat. Turning the key, the engine purred under him. “I’ll take it for a test spin.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll count the cash.” Hunk picked up the metal box Keith left by his workbench. “It’s all here, right?”

“Yep, paid in full.” Keith revved the engine and closed his eyes. Yeah, that sounded right. “Got a job lined up for tomorrow, so you finished just in time.”

“I finished exactly on time—I said I’d be done now!” Hunk rolled his eyes, popping open the box.

Pulling out of the garage, Keith felt his mood brighten. There was something about the open road, about the one thing, the one place where he wasn’t restricted. There was freedom in flying down the road, the wind in his hair, and nothing but an archaic vehicle to keep him safe. It was a simple happiness.

There weren’t too many of those anymore.

-x-

Shiro was still at his place when he returned, and that was an oddity. Keith had almost expected to find an empty bed, their usual arrangement. Instead, Shiro was brazenly sitting on his kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

“You’re here,” Keith said, more a statement than a question.

Shiro looked just as surprised as he felt. “I thought you left.”

“I had to grab some supplies.” Keith set his helmet on the table. Shiro was drinking from the wolf mug. His favourite mug. Did Shiro know that?

“Oh.” Shiro’s fingers curled around the table’s edges. “I was just about to leave.”

“It’s fine.” Keith entered his bedroom. It was funny. Shiro’s scent still lingered on his sheets. Picking up his first aid kit, he glanced back at the kitchen. At Shiro’s back, at the weariness in his shoulders.

It wasn’t that easy to be optimistic, was it. It wasn’t easy at all. His feet moved automatically and before he knew it, his hand was on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, looking up curiously.

“I’ll help,” Keith muttered. A pile of newspapers was stacked in the corner, remnants of him checking for any rebel news. Any sign that Shiro had died. He did that every time he arrived at a city and maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself. It wasn’t love but he would be heartbroken nonetheless if he just read about Shiro’s death and did nothing to stop it. Maybe he could show the futility of it all and drag Shiro out of the mess entirely.

“Keith…” Shiro smiled at him brightly and Keith swallowed.

It wasn’t love.

Maybe, if he said it enough times, his body would believe him.

[ffxivash]

Curse of the clueless

Thoughts ran around in his head, again it was complicated, he was lost not knowing how he should feel, or what he should be doing with himself. There was progress when they spoke to Loivoix, Lucerna seemed to be able to pull herself back from the abyss. As long as she wanted to fight, he would find some way to help.

The tuna tenderloin was rolled in the pepper crust, the actions more automated than anything he had to think about, he had to have made it hundreds of times. Though he was not paying attention when he put the full loin on the hot pan. There was down sides to having such a creative genius mind, the racing thoughts was one of the bigger drawbacks.

He didn’t hear Laplace Daemon come down the steps, his own mind lost in the sea of thoughts.

"Ash? Where's uh..." There was a brief pause, “...where's Lucerna? Asleep, I take it?"

An ear flicked, as her voice cut through the thoughts racing around his brain. “Perhaps…” A shrug left him not entirely sure why she was asking him about Lucerna’s state. He left her in professor Loivoix’s room. He looked at the tuna, more than he could eat portion of food, he accidentally cooked. "Want some tuna, pepper crusted."

There was a clear look of confusion on her face, making Ash wonder if he spoke in the correct language. "...Sure. I was hungry anyway, and I don't mind tuna." Laplace finally answered.

One problem solved, he took down another plate and started making the salad of sprouts, arugula and baby biter leaves that would help offset the pepper sweetness of the tuna. He also was not able to have a good meal with out some carbs, so two pieces of thick bread found a waiting skillet. “I felt, we made progress tonight.”

One of Lap’s eyebrows go up as she watched him. "With Lucerna? I think so too, poor girl. I hope she can learn to forgive herself someday..." Laplace crossed her arms, gently shook her head. "...It's a good thing she has you though. Maybe you two can figure things out." He caught a glimpse of Laplace smiling as she spoke again. "Lucerna is a sweetheart at her core, even if she'll never admit that now. I think she just needs to be supported, and maybe that can be coaxed out. Or so I like to think, but I'm no professor."

"She isn’t going to forgive herself." It was a fact in his mind, he had at least been paying attention during the emotional chats he had with Lucerna in the recent past. The tenderloin was off the heat now and he buttered the slices of bread. "It’s what defines her, how she lives with herself and what happened."

The woman heaves a deep sigh, “Perhaps not, but a girl can hope for it all the same. What of you, Ash? How do you feel?" Laplace asked while he worked on getting the toast on to a small side plate for himself. "About this, I mean. You said you didn't like feeling helpless back in there, so I know you care, at least."

There was a lot he could have said, some of it danced around his brain for a moment. "It’s complicated. Just don't push your hopes on her, or get upset when they don't workout." Sound advice that would save anyone frustration when dealing with a survivor’s recovery. A sharp clean knife cut slices of the pepper crusted tuna, placing them around the two undressed salads. "I want her to be free, to make her own choices. The same thing everyone wants I assume." He handed her the plate of food right after sprinkling the salad with some light dressing.

Taking it with a grateful smile she started to talk as she followed him to the bar to sit. "And here I thought I was just having a sandwich when I came down here." He heard her laugh softly before continuing. "I know what you're saying, though. I'd had no intention of pushing things. I just worry for her, is all. When she said what she did yestersun when we got out of there.”

He could see her color drain some as she shook her head. “She ran right off a cliff, apparently. Lucerna is…” her words faltered, “... I consider her my best friend. I want her to be free as well, but I'd also like it if she could smile for herself, if only a bit. Perhaps it won't happen but I will keep hoping."

Reaching for the iced water he took a drink like it was whiskey on the rocks. The pain that he felt at the words, suicide was an unfortunate reality in the castrum. Not everyone can do the things he had done, and live with themselves. "We will see.. " He let it drift off some as he held his water. "One day at a time, there will be days like this, were things seem to fall backwards. Hearing her say she wants to be free, gives me some hope." Lifting his glass before he was truly done talking, his words of self deprecation lost to it.

Taking the next stool, Laplace had a gentle smile, despite the dark circles around her eyes. The natural empathy Ash possessed, told him she was in a good mood. "Yeah, that made me hopeful too." There was a pause as she peered at him while he was eating. "Forgive me, am I bothering you?"

Looking over he paused clearly unsure why she would ask such a thing. Though seeing her shovel the food in to her mouth, he was not sure if she would be able to clarify without choking. So he guessed, “No, not at all. Just beating myself up some.”

Mouth wide as she was about to devour another fork full of tuna and salad, her cheeks suddenly went red. In a flurry she suddenly corrected herself, correcting her posture and dabbing her lips with the napkin, Trying to perhaps pretend she was not eating like a hungry wolf at the table. “The tuna, it's really good, you're a fine cook."

Standing she went off to get herself a glass of water was she spoke. "Regardless, what are you beating yourself up for? If you don't mind my asking. You seemed to do a hell of a lot more for her this sun than anyone else, barring perhaps the Professor."

"I can cook a very few things well." He corrected as he cut a piece of tuna in half. Then he ate it between thoughts, enjoying the fish before became cold. "I, never was great with people. I… I feel clumsy when it comes to things like this.”

Laplace simply shook her head as she sat back down. "She's a grown woman. She has her struggles but..." Lap bit into a bit of salad she'd caught on her fork, and quickly deals with it. "...ultimately, you want her to make her own choices, right? You two already have pet names for each other."

Something skipped a gear in his head and he just stared at her, before repeating the words like they were in some foreign language. “Pet names…” Blinking some as if trying to command his brain to reboot. “It’s, like inspiration, not umm…” Nope process failed and that was all he was able to say.

Her red eyes just looked at him for a long moment before her shoulders started to tremble, and the giggles escaped her in a sudden fit. "You call her 'Dove', and she calls you 'Brave', Ash!" The giggles were not done yet, continuing to interrupting her sentence. “You two are cute together, you know? She was melting into your arms earlier, it was the sweetest thing I've seen in moons."

It was not really registering what she was getting at, though she seemed amused by it. “Ummm…” He lifted his fork and ate another slice of the tuna, no higher thinking needed for the action.

Laughter now as as she fought to speak. "Forgive me, forgive me. I could ill resist the opportunity, but I mean it, you two get on well." Ash watched Laplace go back to eating and seemingly done with confusing him further. It was odd, but at the same time familiar, to be apart of a joke he had no knowledge of. Like perhaps someone placed a ‘filthy savage’ sign on his back, and every one was laughing, while he was oblivious. “It seemed to help.” His ears were pink while his moon touched gray cheeks did a good job of hiding the warmth he was feeling. “Better than doing nothing, right?” He truly sounded unsure, as if he was waiting for her to take the sign from his back, and reveal the joke.

Shaking her head she went to speak again still holding the fork ready to attack the food. "I wasn't saying it was a bad thing, not at all! On the contrary really, Lucerna, I know she responds really well to physical contact. I don't know why she's like that, but when she's uncertain, or when she's upset, she seems to calm down if she's hugged, or even if her hand is held." The last remains of her plate were eaten before she continued. "Hells, even when she seems to be having bad dreams. While she was recovering, after that Highlander drugged her, she seemed to calm a bit when someone was with her."

Peering over at him she had a smile on her face as she once again spoke. "Call me presumptuous, but I think she wants you to be the one to hold her hand in those times. If how she was leaning into you in Loivoix's room was anything to go by, at any rate."

Panic, yes, that is what he was suddenly feeling, though he racked his brain to figure out why. “I overstepped my place…” Looking away from Laplace he looked at what was left on his plate. “I’m new here, and should have not leaped in like I did."

Her head was shaking in his peripheral vision. "You're thinking too hard, Ash." There was a small break in her words for a sigh. "Think less about your 'place' here and more about what you want out of life. Forgive me for saying this, but, your job here in this Free Company, isn't your entire life. It doesn't need to control you."

There was some relief in the change of subject, less focus on the joke. "It's what I’m good at, and nobody's getting hurt by what I'm doing." He picked at what was left of his food. "Place, rank, order, it is like a first language, a good default.” He tried to explain between bites. “I also teach at the orphanage, seeing I know what it is like to not have anyone or anything. I want them to have opportunities, without being swept up by the Empire." Looking over at Laplace his ear flicked some, perhaps finding one of the sources of her confusion. "You do know I’ve only been out of a uniform for a year and a half? Of that I’ve only been here, a moon or so." Saving her from explanation that he spent most of that first year being a hermit, and scavenging, before being manipulated by a psychopath.

Some understanding as she shook her head, no she didn’t know. "I didn't know that, but I do now, forgive me.” A small apologetic smile filled the air between thoughts. "I suppose I can understand, though. T'would be like me, trying to shake myself out of a huntress' mindset. It's my default." "If you'll bear my prattling a bit longer, I think you should chase what you want. Do what comes naturally sometimes. Like that hug she needed that, I think, but I won't lecture you further. You say you teach at an orphanage? I didn't know that, either. Would you tell me a bit about them?"

The thought of the children brought a small smile to his face. "I won't turn away advice, though not sure if I will follow it. I think people are making this out to be more than it is." He had hoped to spare Lucerna from the teasing.

Laplace chuckled at that. "I'll not fluster you further, not tonight at least."

His plate was at least clear now, "They are all so thirsty to know everything, innocent even the ones who are the most hurt. I, have a hard time remembering myself like them. I teach science, once a sennight we do something practical outside, a space to safely experiment. It has been a tad taxing they do not understand what happens when I... when I have to step away."

There was a brief moment of silence as she listened. "Step away for visions, I take it? I... Well, perhaps they need not know." Ash could see her grimace, likely remembering the one time she had witnessed him having a vision. "Sorry, 'tis hardly my business, but, I would simply tell them you have regular migraines.”

"That is what I have said, the head mistress seems to be forgiving, and my lessons are not a main focus of the cas… orphanage.” The Imperial terminology was likely going to haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Ah, but I digress. I'm glad you have something you enjoy. Ash, if I may offer a light suggestion?"

There was a pause as he waited for her suggestion. "If they're in Eorzea, perhaps bring them to Lucerna's restaurant sometime? There's apparently magitek-based games there, it could be a fun way of showing them different uses for science."

He was not going to over step his boundaries there. “They are in Gardenia, though I'm not…” Shaking his head some. “... it is not really my place. Though I may make something like it, perhaps something that helps them understand how things relate to each other.. " His words drifted off as he thought about a couple of visuals that could help with his lessons, including some basic problem solving games. He felt his mood sink some, he had a full time job, and one on the side. "A lot of ideas not a lot of time."

He could see she understood, likely faced similar problems herself. "I see, I misunderstood, forgive me."

Did she think he ran an orphanage? A year and change away from the empire, where did she think he would find the time. Also he was not going to tell her that he was not legally in Eorzea, the Alliance had no idea he was there, and he had no intention of telling them.

"If you ever decide to pursue that idea though, to create something similar, I'd like to see what you come up with." She gave a light smile as she got to her feet. "Much as I'd love to chat all eve. I fear my lack of rest since last eve is beginning to take its toll, and I feel my body telling me it's finally willing to sleep.” “If you ever need help chasing those ideas of yours Ash, try and remember you've got friends now, alright? People who will help you." Turning she made her way up the steps with a few parting words. "Take care, Ash. Thanks for the tuna, I'll repay the favor sometime."

"Rest well. After this turn around, I will likely also see how much sleep I can get." There was a small wave before he picked up the dishes and went to the kitchen to clean them. The racing thoughts were at least more organized now, and now he was able to focus. Though he was not looking forward to the nightmares, the memories of people who had ended their own lives, were already trying to get a hold.

[canadaherligste]

After The Story: The Music of The Andøya Rocket Incident

Hello everyone, and welcome to the music discussion of The Andøya Rocket Incident. We apologize for the delay; both Eve and I have had a very busy week, but we were determined to get this to you!

This week Eve and I were stumped at times, so we’re really looking forward to hearing your views on the music. We always learn a lot from you all, and we need it this week!

So take your application to the corresponding station in a classified location no one can access, and then sit back as we talk about our favourite songs, and about the genres and themes of the songs. Join in, we want to hear you!

1. Which was your favourite song?

2: Genres. Homages. Parodies. Tropes. Music. Vocals.  Let’s break this down, song by song:

A - Aurora Borealis

B - Russian Government Process

C - My Cheget

D - Push the Button

E - Never Again

F - Non-Ylvis song choices: Fly Me to the Moon (Julie London)

1. Which was your favourite song?

Eve: Although I am gaining an appreciation for Vegard’s deep rich tones in “My Cheget” (despite it’s jarringly weird romance montage) as soon as “Push the Button” starts, I realize it’s definitely my favorite. It makes me want to leap across the lawn in tandem with Boris.

Robin: While I think "Push The Button" is the best song this week, my favourite is “Aurora Borealis.”I can't get enough of it; I have to hear it on repeat at least 5 times before I can move on to the next song. I’m sure many an elevator surveillance camera has caught me dancing to it. I love everything about that song, it just makes me so happy. (A far cry from my weepiness from last week!!) I’ve even changed my ringtone to the instrumental ending of the song.

2. Genres. Homages. Parodies. Tropes. Music. Vocals.  Let’s break this down, song by song.

A - Aurora Borealis

Robin: Man I love this song. I believe that the genre inspiration for this song is Brazilian bossa nova jazz fusion, in the style of Sergio Mendez and Ivan Lins. “Aurora Borealis” reminds me most of “Mas Que Nada,” Sergio Mendez’s signature song; the chord structure is very, very similar. Mendez is also known for working with current artists and giving his songs modern and contemporary touches, and this song seems right in that vein.

Guys, the background vocals! Oh my gosh the harmonies. The “aurora borealis, aurora polaris” lines are just so gorgeous (they’re a choir girl’s dream), and freaking Bård at “lift off!!” holy crow. I also really love the background vocals at the second verse; they’re punchy and give the second verse a little more energy to take it to the countdown.

That said, it’s actually Vegard’s hyper-nasal geeky voice that sells this song for me. I. Love. It!! Remember when I said in the Bieber music review for “Normal Boy” that Vegard can’t contain that beast of a voice? Well, I stand corrected, because Vegard doesn’t sound anything like Vegard in this song!

The voice he puts on in this song, along with his demeanor in the video, give this song the wonder and joy and excitement you would expect to have when you’re about to press a button to launch a science rocket into space! His happy geek voice singing about the rocket, his awe of the auroras, and his confidence in the countdown just all works so well.

Besides all that, you have that killer bass going on, and the wind instruments sound so breezy and light! Vegard and the music together give a very light-hearted feel to the song and to the situation, giving a little irony given that we know how that happy moment takes a really dark turn.

Vegard’s voice also blends really well with Bård’s more muted version of his own voice. Bård sounds like himself, but with a much more controlled prosody, which works well to make his character sound different and separate from all the incredibly melodic background vocals he’s giving to the song.

I love that last scene where you can hear the party going on from the outside. All I can think off is the He-Man/What’s Up parody on YouTube (it’s one of my favorite things on the internet, don’t judge me) where the chef in the kitchen is hearing the muted version of the song. I’m sure it’s unrelated (unless Ylvis has as weird a sense of humor as I do) but that was the first and only thing that came to mind LOL https://youtu.be/ZZ5LpwO-An4

Eve: Although I can hear the bossa nova now that you’ve pointed it out, that wasn’t what I originally got from the song at all. The quick steady beat and the sort of regular, stiffness to the song (except for the lovely Aurora Borealis interlude) song, accompanied with stiff old-man dancing reminded me of Devo’s “Whip It”, of all things. It was a like a musical reflection of the concept that “white men can’t dance.” Or “White and Nerdy.” But I loved it because of that, and and how it was combined with delightfully nerdy lyrics like “look at all the data / look at the results / numbers numbers numbers / exactly what we want.” I also found it amusing that all the scientists dancing around looked a lot like the club scenes in “Pressure” and “Work It”, complete with the bursting champagne bottle, but with a bunch of old nerds dancing arthritically (in other words, me in about 20 years). I like that it’s a very happy, cheerful song, too. Something I could sing when my program compiles and produces the desired output.

B - Russian Government Process

Eve: This is another one of those show-tune-ish songs that I feel like I’ve heard before and can’t remember where. The plucked bass line with the other instruments responding, the minor key, it all sounds very familiar. I don’t know how they can keep singing when the song speeds up -- I can barely keep up until lunch! tiiiiiiime! and once they start up with “grill it, spice it, supersize it / flame it, boil it, circumcise it” I’m lost. So lost, in fact, that I didn’t realize until I paused it to get those lyrics that they threw “circumcise” in there.

Robin: I’m the same; I cannot for the life of me figure out why this song is sooooo familiar. Everything about it is familiar; the melody of the verse, the chord structure, the increasing tempo. I’ve had this problem a lot this episode - the songs all sound vaguely like something else I’ve heard but I can’t place all of them!  Lars has really gotten me this episode. Freakin’ Lars. I’m hoping someone comments with some insight into what inspired it because I am so stumped.

Vegard’s vocal performance in this song is stellar; man, he is on fire this episode. His voice is strong and stately, and he totally sells the character throughout the song. That said, I would pay to see him get through this song and get all the lyrics right and in order. Y’all better get started on those prompter cards.

The lyrics are hilarious: “take your application to the corresponding station in a classified location no one can access!!” Bureaucracy defined. That said, the standout moment in this song is the combined visual and lyric of “equal rights for gays” going into the trash. It’s songs like this one and like “Normal Boy,” songs whose funny moments are inherently tied to their videos, that make me really wish they would do commentary on this show.

C - My Cheget

Robin: This song has a slower bossa nova jazz groove going on, it again reminds me of some of Sergio Mendez's and Ivan Lins' work. This song reminds me most of “Fallen” by Lauren Wood, from the Pretty Woman soundtrack. It has a similar style and laid-back mood, as well as the bossa nova jazz groove, the horns and similar background vocals. I think.  I'm sorry, everyone, I am failing spectacularly at the music analysis of this episode! I blame Lars for being too good at his job.

Again, Vegard's killing it here. Man, his baritone is insane in this song. At no point during this song does Expensive Jacket Vegard Ylvisåker make an appearance; he is absolutely "Boris Yeltsin" in this song (and in the next one). In the extended version online, there are glimpses of his regular voice during his instrumental ad-libs, but that quickly devolves into hilarity as Yeltsin drunkenly loses control of his ad-libs. That makes me snort every single time I listen to it.

The lyrics of the song itself are super weird. Yeltsin daydreaming a love song to his nuclear suitcase in the middle of a crisis is almost as random as a Flat Eric puppet being Petter Northug’s life coach. It’s weird and almost completely incongruous. That said, it is interesting that he repeatedly declares that the Cheget is “his” at this time, because that’s exactly what he needed to remember as his military advisors urged him to do something he wasn’t sure about. He was the president, he had the power, and the decision about the Cheget was his to make.

Lastly, that shot of Yeltsin looking on at Putin’s inauguration gave me a chill. Not the good kind.

Eve: One of the cool things about this format is that Ylvis can make songs about whatever ridiculous bit they want to, and let the song be as long as it needs to. I feel like this is the type of song that might have resulted if they took that “What car do you drive?” digression from “Stongehenge” and made it its own song. Unlike the other songs which reflect plot points, this song is just a weird imagining of a romantic relationship with his nuclear briefcase because it’s always by his side. For some reason, I find this whole thing vaguely icky, particularly the flour-throwing scene, although “handle in hand with another man” makes me smile. I do enjoy the song, particularly since Vegard sings lower than I can remember hearing him sing for an entire song. I love how he sings “You are my Chegeeeeet” at the end. The photo album full of pictures of Yeltsin with the briefcase at McDonald’s or famous landmarks (I see the Eiffel Tower, Taj Mahal, and a skyscraper on a beach -- Dubai?) is fun. Is it in a cabana on the first page?

D - Push the Button

Robin: "Push The Button" is an intense, driving, powerful song, and everything about it represents the tenseness of the situation. The 3+3+2 drum rhythms at the beginning and at the bridge give this song a feeling of urgency. You can hear a similar use of that rhythm in Rob Thomas' "This Is How A Heart Breaks," one of my favourite workout songs for precisely that reason. I've been told that this also has some High School Musical inspiration, but since I haven't seen those movies, I'm hoping you guys can tell me more about that!

I also love that the other vocals aren't harmonized, but in unison at different pitches. There's nothing pretty or harmonic about this situation, it's an unevenly balanced argument. The only harmony comes in the silliest line, the digression, the Russian extra furry hat, thrown in there just to give the listener (and Yeltsin) a breather from the intensity of the situation.

I seriously can't talk enough about how Vegard's killing every song in this episode. I mean, damn, guy. If you're just listening to the song while streaming, there is no Vegard Ylvisåker, only Yeltsin. He really sells the conflict that Yeltsin is feeling, with every counterargument, the pressure he feels to make a decision.

There was a lot of discussion about Mikhail Mouse on the episode post so I won't go too much into it, but it's interesting to listen to how Vegard's tone and enunciation (and thus Yeltsin's attitude) change slightly after he talks to Mikhail Mouse. In the beginning he's really feeling the pressure and uncertainty and his voice wavers a little more in that vein, but after talking to Mikhail he sings more strongly (to the point where the Russian accent fades a little), because he is defiant and certain of what he wants and what he can do.

Also, "YYYYES, I'm a Russian, just like you!" gives me life every time. And man, Vegard's energy is insane; how he does all that dancing in that ill-fitted suit is beyond me.

Eve: I love the heavy drums in this one, that feel like a wave pushing Yeltsin closer and closer to the moment he has to make the decision. And it’s super creepy when they set the visuals of mushroom clouds and houses exploding to the beat of those drums. The repetition of the firm “Push the button” interspersed with the emotion explanations why he can’t are awesome. I also love the sections where the bass line pauses (“Do it for Stalin / Do it for Molotov”). I don’t quite understand why Yeltsin gets his American pop culture so mixed up, but I am always going to refer to it as the “Super Canyon” from now on. (And if you haven’t been, it really is all that.) Is there any connection, musically, between the carnival-sounding music of the Mikhail Mouse visit, and the rest of the song?I listened for one but can’t make one out. And finally, I gotta mention how much I adore that last “butTTONNNNNNNNNNNN!!!” I hope I get to hear that live someday.

E - Never Again

Eve: This song reminds me of “We Are All To Blame” at the end of “The Diving Tower”, one of those wrap-up songs sung by the entire company with a cheerful tune and “all our problems are solved” theme. Except in this case, they keep driving home the point that it is NOT solved, we’ve only had a narrow escape and the chance of this happening again is still looming heavily over our heads. The music and the happy dancing almost feels like a sort of “fiddling while Rome burns” thing, or at least some pretty severe denial.

Robin: Finally, a song I can talk about with certainty! The style of this song is 1960s-70s traditional black gospel music, a genre of Christian music. Some of the hallmarks of this sound is the fusion of southern gospel with the black gospel choir and distinct influence of soul music. This, along with contemporary black gospel, is mostly what I've performed as a vocalist.

As far as gospel songs go, this is a pretty decent one. The chord sequences and melodies in traditional black gospel can be a bit predictable if you're familiar with the genre, so kudos to Lars for still making it sound mostly fresh and original.  Also, the Hammond organ sound is a staple of gospel music, so I loooove that Lars had that sound going on in the song!

The background vocals are great, though I wish they had used more layers or singers to give a real choir sound (more like Massachusetts). I also wish they had added a little more of the gospel ad libs to the end. Bård had a decent go of it, but they should have let those singers go a little nuts!

The use of this genre is all in the name of irony. The word "gospel" literally translates to "good news." The lyrics of the song, "this will never happen again" would seemingly be good news, except Ylvis is being completely sarcastic and actually sharing terrible news that nuclear war is incredibly likely to happen someday just because someone inadvertently messes up.

I think the use of this genre was inspired directly by Dr. Pry, as he states in his documentary interview that we've avoided a nuclear holocaust through the grace of God. One of the common themes of gospel music, especially black gospel, is hope. That said, Dr Pry isn't hopeful that we can continue to avoid that kind of disaster without some interventions on our end. Ylvis completely run with that, also painting a pretty bleak picture in the guise of upbeat, optimistic gospel music.

F - Non-Ylvis song choices: Fly Me to the Moon (Julie London)

Eve: I had to look this one up, only to find that it was the delightful cheerful music at the beginning of the episode I wanted to mention! I thought it was some of the ambient music that’s usually woven into the episode but not part of an Ylvis song. It sounds like they “tech-ed” it up a bit to fit with the science-y mood of “Aurora Borealis”. I thought it was a great opener and I love that it’s a real song with a space theme.

Robin: I don’t have much to add here; I thought they used a really cool version of “Fly Me To The Moon.” They really used a lot of Latin jazz in this episode, and this version was a good introduction to the episode.

[splattershotsundae]

Better Eight Than Never --- Chapter 35: Orvokki Vitrel

Warning: The following chapter details gore.

[Entry 1

This is the first entry since that blasted Harlequin incident that my experiments have bared any fruit. As such, I am starting anew. To begin, after that wretch escaped me, I figured I needed to move my plans to the surface, and placed devices which broadcast the ink transfusion signals (Quite an upgrade from the tubes, if I do say so myself) into ink battle arenas. I tried to pick ones that were near large amounts of water… which sure took some doing.

However, as I waited for results, one by one the machines seemed to fail. It is only now, several shifts later, that the surface news has told of a squidling named ‘Yuri Skwidd’ who had clear ink. I was astounded, not only had the machine worked after all, but the subject had survived! The downside is that these results seem to only be temporary, though it might only end upon being splatted. Due to the report… however, this is outshined by the news that not only can he merge with water, it sounds as though he could merge with squidlings themselves, and take control of their bodies.

The uses of this could be limitless, we won’t just have super soldiers, we could have squidlings fight each other in the war! This technology could save thousands of Octarian lives. After giving these results to the lab’s managers, I have been given permission to access the lab’s full potentials once again. Our first mission is to rebuild the machine while soldiers take squidlings from the surface. Hopefully we shall yield further results.

– Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 2

Construction in lab 32 is going agonizingly slowly. Don’t these workers know how to do their job? Which is work? I can see the sweat dripping from their brow, so how come progress has been at a minimum? The only thing keeping me from screaming at them this moment is Olwen’s hand on my shoulder. In one sense, I’m grateful. In another, I am sure the push these fools need is stern words. No matter! While they’re busy attempting to put together the frame to my dream machine, I am overseeing the more delicate parts, as they seem unable to comprehend my genius. I wrote everything down exactly how it is supposed to be done, and yet… ugh. If I made the calls, we wouldn’t be hiring the gunk I scrape off my boots to do such important work! It’s fine. Until we get in our subjects, I would undeniably still be pacing. I hope that the machine shall be recreated for the next shift.

Unlike MK I, MK II attaches to the ceiling or walls, with the subject positioned in front, with their torso in front of the core. The core will replicate pulses like a spawner, and steadily draw their ink from them and replace it with water. However… subject Harlequin still had her skin, organs, everything. Her skin was soft, but still firm. This Yuri… reports say he was water through every fiber of his being. I am uncertain what this could entail.

– Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 3

I couldn’t sleep, and returned to the lab to find the machine was almost complete, and my first subject has arrived! At long last, I can test to my heart’s content! I shall return after the results of my experiment.

Nothing has gone according to plan. Such is the nature of science, I am left thoroughly disappointed. It seems as though someone in this crew assembled my Ink Transfusion machine improperly, so it short circuited and fried a few wires. Not only that, but the core released a pulse which promptly caused the subject, subject 1, to explode into a burst of water. Through analysis it can be concluded she is deceased.

Subject was female, with green ink, type A positive.

One test in, and already I’m wasting squidlings due to incompetence. I will check over the machine myself, and from this point forward, only I or Olwen shall operate it.

– Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 4

Still unable to sleep,  I am quivering with excitement; I have in two more subjects; Subject 2, Male, Orange ink, type B positive, and Subject 3, female, blue, type AB negative.

I have checked the machine at least a dozen times while waiting for Olwen to arrive. She seems concerned for my well being, perhaps she is right. After these experiments I should try harder to rest, a visit to the bathhouse to relax and then back to bed. I asked if she would like to come with me, and of course, she said no. I can’t tell if she thinks I’m joking. Why would I joke? Aside from the fact that we’re furthering technology right in this very room, she is the most important thing in my life.

Regardless, we have now positioned Subject 2 beneath the machine. He’s straining himself against the restraints with all of his might, and seems rather adorable in doing so, though such an action is dealing severe damage to his wrists and ankles. What a fool.

We have turned the machine on, and it is functioning properly, I hear his screams, and I can’t help but smile. That means that it’s working. On more cooperative patients, I’d ask what it felt like, so I could get a better sense of how it was working. He passed out, and a minute later, all that remains is a pool of water on the table. Upon containing the puddle, it began to thrash around and squeak in fear. How adorable. We’ve begun the process with the other squidling, and the results appear positive. Now with two of these things, we must remain cautious. If one of them were to escape and enter one of our brains, the lab might be torn apart.

Subject 3 is much more calm than subject 2, we’ve put her into a larger chamber for analysis, and we shall attempt to revert subject 2 to his previous ink, of which we still have samples of.

Subject 2 has been reverted to orange ink, however he did not survive the process. Either way, this is valuable intel, as his body remained intact. Upon conducting an analysis, the tears in his flesh from pulling against the restraints are all but gone. It is possible that being in this water state has corrected any minor wounds he had. We’ve sent his body to lab 22 for an autopsy, and Subject 3 shall remain under close watch until my return.

– Orvokki vitrel]

[Entry 5

I slept too long, subject 3 died between shifts, but at least we recorded the entire thing. She’s not a puddle like I first thought, she did actually have limbs, and as time went on she began to shrink until she fell apart completely, leaving only a puddle. (For sure this time) It seems that an evaporation process caused her to simply die. I’ve sent what remains of her to undergo analysis, but I suspect that by now she’s merely returned to water.

On the brighter side, they’ve brought me not one, not two, but four new subjects today. I shall continue the naming process as per usual.

Subject 4, Female, Green, A-

Subject 5, Male, Purple, B-

Subject 6, Male, Dark blue, A-

Subject 7, Male, Pink, O+

Now that we have more subjects, I can finally begin implanting. We decided to transfuse subject 7, a process which has left him rather delicate, more so than the others so far. After some deliberation, and much frustration, we managed to secure subject 4 to a table and forced subject 7 into her mind.

I’d never seen an ink reaction like this, even in the thousands of shifts I’ve been working in ink research. Her skin simply dissolved, allowing her flesh to bubble and pop, much like hostile ink. I’ve saved the footage to the journal for reference, and we’ve collected the ink that remained for further testing. We were unable to find subject 7, and so far, subject 4’s ink seems… perfectly normal.  This perplexes me, I must learn more.

Under consulting with Olwen, we decided to turn both 5 and 6 into water. 6 is fairly sturdy in form, and we’re able to make out distinct limbs, whereas subject 5… is perfect. His form is pristine and clearly defined, and he appears to have a fierce spirit. We put the both of them into containment tanks, a true feat in the case of subject 5, who not only appeared to have seen what we did earlier and tried to jump at one of our scientists, but was able to temporarily change into humanoid form. I suspected this was possible, but to see it confirmed… He looks nothing like Harlequin, I wonder if she could even enter another’s mind, her humanoid form had skin and rigidity in a way he simply did not.  Regardless, any further subjects shall be kept in a separate room, perhaps the room where empty containment tanks are stored could be filled instead of left to collect dust. Olwen presses me to sleep, she’s right, under my mask I feel the dark circles, and my nose runs. We added some water to the containment tanks, which should, theoretically keep them alive. Perhaps we should have only transfused one for the time being… It’s too late now, all I can do is sleep and see what happens.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 6

I can’t see. Never in my life have I felt so… Empty inside.

I can’t stop crying, she’s gone, she’s just gone.

This morning, we went to retrieve subject 5, and he broke out of his container and jumped at Olwen.

He killed her. There was nothing I could do.

I can’t believe that she’s gone. How am I going to keep going without her? She was the one person who meant anything to me, and I’m never going to see her again.

They took her to have an autopsy, and gave me the rest of the shift off, but…

I wish we’d done more together. There was so much we could have done once the surface was ours.

We could have even gone up now, I was tempted to ask her today, if she wanted to go up to the valley and look at the real sky. But she…

I feel like… nothing.]

[Entry 7

They brought me more subjects while I was away, but I hardly care. They can fill out most of the operations themselves…

It’s not that people around me haven’t died before, it’s just… this once, the shift-long grieve doesn’t feel long enough. How can I let go of her in this short of time? They expect me to be focused under these circumstances? How can they keep working while she’s gone? I’m listening to some audio I took of her, a long time ago, over and over and over again, but it’s not enough. How can this, and a few pictures, be all I have left of someone so full of life?

Subject 6 has been put into another subject without my authorization, what could go wrong? Well, the two fell unconscious, and nothing anyone can do will rouse them. For once it feels as though I won’t succeed. Olwen always cared more about me than my projects. She wouldn’t want me to simply give up, would she?… What if she’d been hesitant in the past, but never told me?

They came to me, and told me the results of the autopsy of my dear, sweet, Olwen. Her brains had all been torn to pieces, and then he’d done as much damage to the rest of her body as he could, they couldn’t even find one of her lungs.

It doesn’t feel fair to have to see this. To see what he’s… done to my beloved. The ooze seeping from her body...

I’m taking another shift off, sick leave.

I can’t do this.]

Bato was pulled from the journal by the sound of snapping fingers, and looked down to see Stacey trying to get his attention. “Huh, what?”

"What’s going on?" She asked. "I've been trying to get your attention for like, five minutes."

"Oh..." He'd temporarily forgotten about their current situation. "This mask, it has these... entries? Like, a scientist's journal sort of thing. And they're about these... experiments, that they've been doing on inklings, trying to recreate what happened to Yuri."

Stacey grimaced. "Of course... Well, you seem to have turned the lights on with that thing... it can probably open the door. I... Don't think I'm ready to go anywhere yet though. You doing alright? You look shaky."

Bato nodded a bit, lifting the helmet a bit and wiping his forehead, "Some of these entries… they were dealing with some… dark stuff.” He explained, groping behind him for the table and leaning against it for a second, "... Toda and the twins were lucky... I've only read through seven of these and I can already tell that it could've been so much worse..."  He frowned, thinking about this Olwen person… He felt like he was intruding on some very personal things by reading this… but if there was going to be information about where his friends were, he had to.

Stacey winced. "I’d offer to read it.. But at this point, I don't think we should risk you taking that off. If you have low clearance, the fact that you can use that might be a fluke."

"I think you're right." He agreed. "It almost didn't let me in to begin with but..." He shrugged, Hachi must've messed with his mask quite a bit in order to let him use it. He took a deep breath, "Let me know when you're ready to go." He said, as he opened Entry 8.

[Entry 8

I can’t. I can’t keep acting like this. She’d want me to keep going. But how can I? I’m still sick, so I decided to look over the ink samples this shift… as well as my own. There’s always been an irregularity in my ink I haven’t been able to identify… But I think I found something. Something that my ink has in common with the ink of subject…. 5.

The fact that I have anything in common with that hideous muck worm makes me nauseous… If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself.

No, I’d kill the person who meant the most to him.

A child, a spouse, a mother, anyone.

Can’t I still do that?

There would be no way I can find them… but if we storm the surface, there’s a chance that my revenge will be carried out by my work.

I’m prepared to take a gamble, and I won’t tell anyone what I’ve done, unless it’s a success.

Not even you, my journal.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 9

I can’t feel my body]

[Entry 10

I’m still alive… I banked on that connection between mine and subject 5’s ink, and I’ve emerged victorious. My body is made of water, which admittedly makes it hard to write in my journal now, but other good things are happening, it feels as though I’m finally being taken seriously. No, I know I’m being taken seriously, there’s talk of a sponsorship from Ophelia, and I may get as many test subjects as I need. They’re going to adapt the facility to my needs, to allow me to travel through the pipes. Walking around like normal causes me to lose pieces of myself on the floors. I’m also being reassigned to lab 26, maybe for the best… the old one is… highly traumatic. That’s the only way I can say it, I don’t want to go back in there, I can still see her dying face.

I don’t recognize my voice, no longer low and smooth it’s… like a gurgle. Some people can’t even understand me, and they’re terrified of me, which in a way I like, but… I feel so alone, without her here…

Beside me…

In a way, I’ve become what killed her.

Did I ever deserve someone like her?

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 11

Subject 6, and the subject she was implanted in, have both finally died, so it was time I took their place, and got in-depth with the minds of these squidlings. I was put into the mind of subject, apparently 11, and attempted to control them. With their singular brain, I had no idea which spots controlled what, so I simply wriggled around, and soon I felt them dying around me, so I jumped out, which was difficult, the rig is set up so it’s hard to escape… but it feels as though that may be why I’m still alive, while subject 11 is now dead. I don’t understand why this is, but it might be something to look into.

Oh no, I forgot to grab an ink sample from subject 11 before they died. Shit. I need to stay focused. I’ve ordered ink sample collections from every single test subject as soon as they enter the facility. I must find more links between these ink samples.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 12

I’m glad that I’ve always kept a journal as an outside mask, because it’s occurred to me now that… should I die, my journal would simply dissolve if it was on my main mask. I’ve saved everything I have of Olwen to it now, just in case. She should never be forgotten.

Onella, my sister, has been hounding me however, Says I’m not acting the same. It’s not like her to care, I don’t understand what this is.

Regardless of her intrusions, I’m currently overseeing the remodeling of my new house inside the laboratory. It feels empty, but I need a more permanent bed than a bucket of water. They are supplying me with an entire pool.

Most of what I did today was compare samples. This irregularity… it seems to be consistent with purple inks, but none are as close to mine in this way as subject 5… Why am I the closest thing to that slime ball? That murderer? That…

If I don’t embrace this, it will eat me alive.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 13

I transfused two purple squids today, and I’m beginning to let these samples be public record so they don’t have to be mixed with my personal thoughts. We did two experiments today, one in which the squid could escape its host, and one where they could not. The one who could escape was the only survivor out of all of them. So if I escape a host, even if they are dying, I can live. Quite valuable information.

We took the survivor, and put them into another mind, of a different color ink, and… different results emerged. I’ve given authorization for them to continue using this squid while I performed my own experiments. I allowed myself to be dropped into the mind of a squidling and, to my surprise, they retaliated against my efforts inside their brain, so I fought back, physically, I made them claw at their skin, and bite off their own tongue, and worst of all---] Bato swallowed and exited that entry, sweat pouring off of his brow. Dear Judd, he couldn’t imagine the horror that poor person must have felt, or what could have been worse. He didn’t have time to read every entry, he decided, just to give himself an excuse so he wouldn’t have to read something like that again, and proceeded to skim the rest.

And he was glad that he did, these entries detailed the gore, more and more graphically each time. She’d begun to have her subjects put into a special room so that way they wouldn’t be bound, but still couldn’t escape. She’d been made an elite due to the amount of damage she could cause to a person being ‘elite level skill’. She was mad that she couldn’t wear the kelp, as it sank right through her.

A few entries later, he paused. This entry was different.

[Entry 19

I have finally assembled a chart, of how the ink of the subjects effects this process.

Transfusion subjects; Purple ink is the best suitable subject for this, and as of now it’s the only subjects I want from the surface, as it contains a protein which can withstand the process. I get the honor of naming it, but I’ve yet to decide…  Regardless, other ink colors don’t have this, and as a result, they are unstable, and may have less control or fall apart entirely.

As for being a host, the color seems to be a determining factor as well; the darker the ink color, the more dense it is, and the harder it is for the infiltrator to manipulate. Purple ink seems to have an innate resistance, perhaps because of this same protein. If a host and an infiltrator have ‘rival colors’, the two will begin to dissolve, such as Pink and Green, Orange and Blue… Purple and Green also seem to count as rival colors, but the repercussions might put them on level footing. I don’t understand it.

What I need is more proof, I need the survivors of Yuri, as I have yet to be left with a surviving host.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

He skimmed some more before something else struck his interest, entries from the past few days.

[Entry 22

We found one. Today we finally found one of Yuri’s victims, I will be calling him Y-1, and I’ll be taken up there as soon as possible. However… We are unsure how to best do that… as putting my water body through a kettle would… boil me. I’m not sure how that would effect me, would I even survive? There are plans of having a guard take me up in a containment tank, but even that might be risky. We may have to bring the squid down here. That should be fine.

I’m furious. We were so close, but apparently Orion decided to leave him on the surface so he could do one of his ‘revenge’ things against one of the sea sirens. I have a revenge to fulfill as well, over here! Not to mention not only do I have Onella pestering me to let her in on everything, but Ophelia breathing down my neck and rushing my progress so it’s hard to get anything done. What can’t wait a few more shifts?

… She has a voice though, as sweet as Olwen’s…

I must get close to her, I’ll do whatever it takes to record some sounds from Ophelia She’s the closest I have to my one true love…

…

Perhaps the fact that I sit here and write so much is why she is getting testy. Doesn’t she realize how this is a vent? I’d never say any of this to her, of course, I want to keep my tentacles.

– Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 23

They’re all dying. I’ve been in so many today, I’ve killed a dozen squidlings, a fact which I’ll go into more detail in a moment, but… I’m still no closer, and Orion is ignoring my orders to pick up the fucking squidlings I need. It’s not fair, You’re supposed to respect me you big-headed lump of slime. I need to go to another one, I need to rip them apart! I’m so mad!!

To make everything worse, just because Onella’s in on this project now, she thinks she gets to call the shots! I hate her! I hate everything!

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 24

Orion’s told me that some defect made her way back to the domes, she’s been in contact with Yuri’s hosts. She was able to bring down an ink sample from one of them, thanks to being around his tank.

I’ve examined it.

He’s… He has the same irregularity as mine. As subject 5. As my sister.

I need him. I need him now. There are so many questions that need to be answered.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

[Entry 25

The ‘splatfest’ happened, and not only did we get more purple test subjects than I could ever use, but…  finally, we know right were Yuri’s hosts are. They’re here. In this very building, and I’ve just finished dealing with Y-1, and as of now, he’s the first subject I’ve ever left alive. My approach was all wrong. I was… flailing, and wriggling, I never considered fight fire with fire. Attack him with thoughts, my thoughts, his own thoughts. Act like… not like I’m a pilot, but that I was him. It was my body. It felt so… powerful, and soon I shall test with another survivor what I’ve learned… though… these three hosts, know each other, and I have plans for implanting one into another. Perhaps the connection between them will herald different results. I may not have too much more time for experimentation, hearing news that someone I controlled remained alive, we’ve been given a go ahead from Ophelia, and she’ll be sending a very special squidling my way shortly.

In addition… there was a ping on the squid who matched my ink, but he’s… gone. Someone stole him from right under my nose. I was so close, and I need him back! This is personal now, I’ve sent people looking for this thief, and I will stop at nothing to find my specimen. Someone is actively trying to thwart me, I feel…

I’ll find you, squidling.

--Orvokki Vitrel]

Bato found himself gripping the table, shudders running down his back. She… She needed him…. She needed him. There was something weird about his ink? Weird how? He felt light headed, and frightened, and he made himself take a deep breath. Toda was alive… and when this had been written, Jill and Simon had been alive as well… but who could say how well they were doing… What sort of irregularities did his ink have?

Focus. He began to run his hands over his tentacles. If he wasn’t here, where was she? Probably lab… which one? 26? If he had more clearance with her mask, could he see where that was? He pulled up the map, which flickered and then cleared up. He frowned as he looked the map over, noting that the lab was quite a ways away, but he was able to bookmark it so his mask could give him better directions. Turned out it was a GPS as well.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a gurgle of water, and he stiffened, looking over at the pool, and seeing that it was beginning to fill with more water. A thick clump came out of the pipe in a rather un-water-like fashion, and he swallowed. Oh no, it was her. He glanced down at Stacey, realizing for the first time that she’d fallen asleep. She must be exhausted, but… he had to wake her. “Stacey!” He hissed as he knelt down.

She groaned and opened her eyes, squinting.

“Squid!” Bato hissed. “I can carry you in my helmet.” He said, flipping it over like a bucket. As she transformed, he helped her into the helmet, not taking his eyes off the pool as a rippling woman made of water arose. He quickly stood as she approached, free hand hovering near his ink tank. "So, you're Orvokki, I assume?" He asked, carefully edging toward the door.

"What are you doing here, give me back my journal!" She shouted as she began to rush toward him.

"I'm afraid I need it right now," He said, turning toward the door to unlock it, and then laying a mine down in the doorway as he backed through it. As she drew near the bomb went off, sending splatters of purple ink through her body, and caused her to start steaming.

"SECURITY! LOCKDOWN FACILITY!" She screamed as she stumbled backward, falling over and writhing on the ground in pain. As the door slid shut, the alarms began to blare again, and this time, he was sure it was for him.

“Hold on tight! He grunted, clutching the helmet to his chest as he began to sprint down the halls, following the mask’s instructions through the corridors. He heard Stacey squeak as he made a particularly sharp turn, but as long as she stayed in the helmet, he told himself he wouldn’t stop running.

He heard a gunshot, followed by a ping off his armor, and he grimaced and turned a corner before he was prompted in an attempt to break away from his pursuers. He could hear them shouting and running behind him, but all he could think of was getting this mission completed. “Stacey.” He said, using what breath he could spare. “ They're going to experiment with the others, They’re probably in lab 26. If nothing else, you need to make it.”

She squeaked, and then one of her tentacles weakly swatted his arm. “It’s a worst case scenario, you know th-- AAAHHH!” Bato screamed as a bullet flew through his ear, but he didn’t have time to stop now, and pushed himself to run even faster. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible, but he had to. He dropped another ink mine behind him to deter pursuit, but knew there was only so much he could do, lab 26 was in a corner of the facility, the guards would close in, and he’d have no way to leave soon enough.

He heard another ping off his armor, and he felt once again grateful that Hachi had told him to put this breastplate on the right way around. He turned a corner into one final hall, seeing his goal dead ahead of him. Behind him, he heard a massive explosion which made his ears rang, and probably gave him some sort of degree of hearing loss from it’s intensity.  He stumbled and staggered, having a hard time staying focused, but he had to make it. This door was his only hope. In a daze, he slumped against it, beating his fist against the metal door. “Open! Open! Open!” He shouted as his legs trembled. The second it took for the door to recognize Orvokki’s mask felt like an eternity, but finally it opened, and he stumbled through the door, and made it shut behind him, thinking a very loud ‘YES’ when it asked if he wanted to refuse access to other octolings. As soon as the door closed, there was an explosion on the other side, which dented it and let a small bit of octoling ink ooze through, but other than that, the door remained seemingly solid. Slumping against the wall, he took a moment to feel his left ear, which now had a notch in it, and hurt like all hell. That had been too close…

He did a sweeping look around the room, seeing rows of counters and machinery, and empty space filled with all sorts of threatening looking tools, and he vaguely remembered a few from when he was skimming the journal, a fact which caused him to shudder. On one wall, there was a valve, which had a small basin under it, and then on the far end of the room was a glass wall which allowed him to see into a test chamber that had an inkling resting on a metal bed, with all sorts of equipment pointed at their head. They sort of looked familiar, but his attention was drawn to an octoling scientist, who was looking at him with an expression of horror. He set the helmet down on one of the counters and grimaced, drawing his inkbrush. “We don’t have to fight, let me into that chamber.”

The scientist swallowed, then grabbed a knife off a table and rushed at Bato, thrusting it in a fairly novice fashion.

Bato flicked his brush, causing the scientist to stumble into a pool of ink, and then swiped at their hands to knock the knife away, causing them to yelp and fall over backward as they tried to escape. He huffed and reached up pick up Stacey, only for everything to go black as Orvokki’s journal was cut from the system. He swore under his breath and hurriedly pulled it off, which was just enough time for the scientist to get up and grab the knife again. He dropped the mask and sidestepped to dodge the scientist’s next swing, then spun his brush around and swiped it at the backs of their knees, sending them sprawling onto their back once again. “You done yet?”

The scientist nodded, covering their face with their tentacles.

Bato nodded, and looked back into the chamber, grimacing as the test subject began to look more and more like Simon. Crud. "Get up," He said sternly, prodding the scientist none too gently with the back end of his brush. “And unhook them from the machines, get them out of there!”

The scientist scrambled to their feet and darted over to a control panel, quickly pressing buttons. “It’s waking….” They murmured.

Bato grimaced, casting a brief glance at the door as someone on the other side began to pound at it. He scooped up Stacey and then followed the Scientist over to the panel, lightly poking them with the brush. “Don’t call my friend an it.”

The scientist yelped. "Heheh, Yes! Of course!… Don’t call the brutish squids its, why would I ever do that?” They asked, tone betraying how frightened they were. They twisted a knob, and a door in the wall opened with a hiss as the pressure equalized.

Bato hesitated just a moment, then ran forward, setting Stacey down so he could shake Simon’s shoulder.  “Simon, Simon wake up! Are you alright?”

There was a moment of stillness, then their eyes slowly opened. They took a small shaky breath and whispered to seemingly nobody in particular. "It wasn't just a dream..."

Bato and Toda are Knitter’s characters

Simon, Jill, Hachi, Orvokki and Stacey are Shuckle’s characters.

Splatoon belongs to Nintendo.

Please consider liking or reblogging if you enjoyed, it’s nice to know we’re doing things right.

Shuckle has a patreon if you would like to provide additional support!

[<PREV] [INDEX] [NEXT>]

[lastkidpicked-blog1]

POST 8. Snowflake to Avalanche. Some cast writing.

Rhain was the first to send some writing in, in relation to the project. This will now change some as we are aiming for a humorous delivery. I thought she had some very strong ideas.��

Matthew also provided some writing but mistook Rhains questions as ones the whole group would answer. Despite this some strong ideas still emerged.

RHIAN’S 1st Draft. 

From Snowflakes To an Avalanche

 A few thoughts…

 Baby Boomers: Born 1946-1964 (54-72 years old) Generation X: Born 1965-1980 (38-53 years old) Millennials: Born 1981-1996 (22-37 years old) Post-Millennials: Born 1997-Present (0-21 years old)

 1.      Why are Millennials so depressed?

Older generations do not understand that a new era has came with the internet that has changed the functioning of society forever. Young people are now experienced widespread guilt, shame and disillusionment from a hand held device that they never let go of. We are bombarded constantly through social media that has affected our attitudes negatively, as seeing posts about atrocities or violence constantly and only able to help by feeding into a go fund me page is debilitating to any person. We are also confronted with racial issues, terrorist attacks, bullying, body shaming and suicide, on top of this contemporary shame, inherited colonial trauma affects our generation the most due to its ever growing acceptance of otherness and feelings of empathy. We also face unrealistic success standards everyone feels they must portray, this is isolating for those who feel less accomplished. We are constantly bombarded by the entire worlds every day, all day on our most prized possession. Then trying to live up to our parents standards, who expect young people to be able to go out and get a job when the economy is vastly different from when they were young and the jobs that are available are a much more competitive process than ever before.

 2.      Why do millennials treat sexuality and mental illness like fashion statements?

The acceptance of difference has never been higher among society and so has resulted in many claiming dignity in their sexuality or gender. The older generation say there are more gay people than ever or is it just that more gay people feel able to express themselves in today's climate? Perhaps our generational guilt and depression stems partly from the oppression systematically enforced by generation Z? It has not become in style to self harm or self destruct or self express, we just now have the internet to try and not feel so alone and through the internet have found ways of supporting one another.

 3.      Why are millennials so concerned with political correctness?

A struggle for the baby boomer generation is understanding the difference between political correctness and causal racism. The younger generation is in constant cahoots with all other races, we do not have time for casual racism let alone brexit, as we see the struggle of refugees daily and we see ourselves in people from other countries as we are more exposed now to other cultures than ever before, a reason to be grateful for our privilege of being able explore further in the world more than ever before through travel agencies or social media.

 4. ��    Do you really find traditional family life so appalling?

A traditional life is no longer appealing to a millennial who has inherited a need for something greater than the generation before. New families are being introduced and a nuclear family setting although still a viable option is seemingly not stimulating enough in this new GO GO GO media society.

5.      Everything has been handed to you. When you are so pampered, how do you feel an existential loneliness?

The previous generation believe they have pushed the world in a state of progression and although this is true in a sense that millenials are the most privileged generation yet in terms of material possessions. Now our things are collectively worth years wages of the baby boomer generation and this is supposed to make us the happiest generation! All this proves is that material things are worthless and due to our higher education standard, we are also more aware that there are more homeless people on the street than ever with empty housing being held by the government, government aid being stripped from the disabled and redirected into military programs and referendums and the government are the enemy to our generation with tensions that were beautifully displayed between Stormzy and Theresa May after the Grenfell Tower Fire.

 6.      Why are millennials so worked up over bodily ownership?

The fact that a room full of mostly rich men decide what people and more particularly women can and can not do with their bodies regardless of context is a disturbing, whether they were voted by a majority into power or not, these issues are for a body and a body alone and laws regarding the body should all depend on its autonomous state. This isn’t generational just common sense???

 Phrases and images

 Inspiring-

‘Keep on truckin’’

‘A minute at a time’

‘This too must pass’

 MATTHEW’S FIRST DRAFT.

why are millennials so depressed? It seems the ideas of success and wealth are now measured more than ever on celebrity ideals, with talentless kids such as lil pump being worth a reported 6.5 million dollars at 18. How can anyone in the real world live up to these ridiculous ways, social media is at the forefront of almost all depression id argue. Whether it is girls comparing themselves to cosmetic Barbie dolls or guys seeing footballers flashing super cars, when it comes down to it social media is a place where life looks so perfect. Thus leaving kids to believe in this perfection and in turn ask why they aren't perfect or as happy as others. Why do millennials treat sexuality and mental illness like fashion statements? We live in a society where we are told to think outside the box and be different and if you aren't different you are somehow boring or just seen as 'normal' which is something nobody wants to be branded as. therefore this generation is using sexuality and mental illness to try and define themselves and stand out from the crowd. However the numbers of people in this generation that suffer with depression and anxiety are astronomically high, and therefore it is probably more individual and different to say that you don't have a mental illness, which is sad. As for sexuality it is getting more and more socially acceptable to be openly gay, and even though some say that this causes people to think they are something they are not. some people disagree with the fact that there were probably just as many gay men and women in the 80s as there is now, it is just acceptable for gay people to be open and public about it now as was not the way in the 80s. Why are millennials so concerned with political correctness? Political correctness is often misinterpreted as just not accepting 'causal racism' we all know someone who will start a sentence with "I'm not racist but..." and then proceed to say something which is in fact just racist. usually this will be from someone of an older generation but not always and where as with the older generations I find it easier to forgive as that was the norm back when they were growing up so they have not changed with the times and is harmless, however there are some members of these generations that are just ignorant and really are racists this is often not the case. it is members of my own generation which I can't forgive this casual racism, I was brought up in the same world as them and I don't use these racial slurs or statements so why should they, it is out of pure bigotry that they choose not to accept that racism should just simply not be acceptable in this day in age. Do you really find traditional family life so appalling?

I feel this is born out of some misconstrued idea that to be successful you have to have no 'distractions' and a family is seen as the main 'distraction'. It feels like people have to make the decision to either be successful or be happy, but why can't we have both?. Everything has been handed to you. When you are so pampered, how do you feel an existential loneliness?

It is this idea that we have everything given to us and we are the most equipped generation to succeed that there ever has been that causes this existential loneliness, as we are told we have the tools to do whatever we want yet we still fail. But rather than putting it down to being human and having to fail in order to succeed, we bury any dreams we have in the fear that we won't succeed. And it is this which leads to the loneliness. The pressure put on kids now is greater than ever before as there aren't as many jobs for people and we are told if you don't have a degree you won't be able to get a job, where as generations of the past were born in to a Britain which had more opportunities as they could go and work down the pit or work in a ship yard or some sort of manufacturing jobs. where as now we have been replace by machines, and we have to fight and scratch to get opportunities for jobs.

[marcusssanderson]

Focus: the #1 Key To Success for Achieving Life-Long Dreams

What’s the ONE key to success?

It starts with clearly defining what success means to you. It’s focusing on your goals and not giving up, no matter what.

For Mother Theresa, it meant caring for the most destitute people that she could find. Athletes often define success by championships or personal objectives. A social activist might consider success a good campaign or a change of policy.

Regardless of how you define it, you must take the time to decide what that looks like. How do you define success in your life? What is your goal for that next race or for that next meeting? How do you train your mind to focus on success?

Make a clear definition of what success will look like in that situation. It is then that you will know if you nailed it, or if you need to refocus and go back into training.

But what will it take to get there? If you are sitting on the couch, eating chips and seeing others succeed while you watch the latest entire season of this or that show, you will NOT get there. The key to success is to focus on making your dreams come true.

Read on to discover how to use focus to achieve success in life.

The number one key to success is to FOCUS.

Make a plan to get there and then take action to achieve it. Here’s how.

1) Create a plan.

This takes time. You cannot simply wing your way to success. I have seen folks who have had small victories accidentally – but real, lasting, and fulfilling accomplishment comes from achieving something that you have dreamed of for years.

Study how others have succeeded in a similar quest as yours.

Talk to others about your dream. In our modern world, we have access to multiple mediums to learn more about how to achieve success. Take advantage of those resources.

Observe others who are in the same quest. Think in small bites. Every bite comes with its own feeling of accomplishment, and with that comes motivation and hope.

Work out as many details as you can think of. Study others who have aimed at the same thing and failed. What did they do wrong? Was there whole plan flawed from the beginning? Most likely, they had no plan so you are already ahead of them.

Think of physical and mental components to your target. Consider how this impacts your friends and family. It would be a real bummer to achieve your success and discover that you are all alone.

Once you have the details, give yourself deadlines by setting dates. Those dates need to be reasonable but challenging. The planning process is a time to push your mind.

Consider possible obstacles and what you are going to do when they appear. Trust me: they will come. Decide now that you will face these with courage and optimism. You will NOT quit.

The key to success might be focus, but don’t forget to believe in your dreams. What will you do when unexpected events take place? Again, decide before you start that nothing will stop your success; nothing will stop you from believing.

When I was in high school and had assignments, term papers, and essays to do, teachers would routinely recommend writing it and then letting it sit for a couple of days before you review it and make corrections. I would have done that – if I was not typically finishing it the day it was due. But for the blueprint of accomplishing your dream, you need to let it sit for a few days.

This is difficult, I know. You just worked up a path to success and now you are not running full speed toward it? But when you come back to it, you will find flaws that you never noticed before. You can make corrections and adjustments before you even start.

Falling down after you start can be devastating to your motivation level. Experience tells me that you will not find all of the flaws until you are in the midst of the plan and fail a few times. As you review the plan and rework it, enjoy yourself. In essence, success is fun!

Now the daring part of developing your plan: tell someone about it. Find your best friend or a family member that won’t laugh at you. They may give cautions and that is good, but no laughing. You have a written plan and now you are enlisting others to help you remain motivated as you strive to move forward.

2) Take action.

That written plan is beautiful and exciting – but if it only gathers dust, it will never come to life. The words alone will not get you to success, only YOU can do that.

If your plan includes a schedule, start living it. You may need to push away the cheesecake or you may have to wake up earlier than normal. It is possible that for a season, you will be working two or more jobs. From day one you may feel a pull to abandon the dream.

Again: the key to success is focus. As you already determined in your plan that you are going to succeed, you can overcome this pull. Take the first step. Make no excuses. Simply live the plan that you have so painstakingly developed. Each day you live the plan you will get stronger.

As you move forward, you will learn new things; but you will also encounter injuries and other distractions. Do NOT let that set you back. Go back to your plan and rework it with the new information, or adjust to take the distraction into consideration.

Every great success has a moment that you will wonder if it was all worth it. That is your moment. That is your success. Push through that pain. Don’t quit and you will soon again find that passion that you had when you began this process. The key here is to keep moving forward.

3) Achieve it. 

You just finished your first marathon, or you got the job of your dreams. Now what?

Take a moment and celebrate. Enjoy the victory. Call in all of those who helped you get there and celebrate with them. Offer thanks and enjoy. The next morning though, it’s time to start working on a new plan. How much faster can you run the marathon? Could you run an ultra? 

Many have had your job before. What will be your success that sets you apart from all of the others? Remember what it felt like to achieve. When you build on that victory, it will feel even greater. Repeat until you are out of life.

Credit: Goalcast

Conclusion

Envision it right now. What does it look, smell, taste, sound and feel like to achieve your success? 

Live in that vision for just a moment. Maybe it’s a small accomplishment like staying calm when your boss asks a difficult question, or something bigger like facing down a bully. But when you create a plan and focus on it, the odds of you achieving your dreams are high.

Hopefully, you will get to rewrite where you are heading. Just don’t forget that the key to success is simply to focus.

The post Focus: the #1 Key To Success for Achieving Life-Long Dreams appeared first on Everyday Power.