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grumpygreenwitch · 4 months ago

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Machina Ex Machina 25-26

As always, if you enjoy the writing, please like and reblog. There’s no algorithms here; my publicity is you. And if you’d like to buy me a Ko-fi, I certainly won’t complain.

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TWENTY FIVE

The virus looked up, at the immense black and red doom above it. It hung between its head and the sky like a great bloody blade waiting to come down. It was a threat, and the virus would not abide threats to itself.

And yet…

There was no denying the predatory beauty of it. In looking upon it, back at Parnassus, the virus had felt something new. Until that moment it had known only direction, the single-minded pursuit of its goals: to perfect its body. To safeguard its mind.

To grow.

It had known only anger at being balked, and satisfaction when it was not. But in looking at the immense carrier it had known a sort of potential feeling, something that wasn’t, yet, but could be.

Fear.

Could the carrier destroy it? No. It knew itself nearly indestructible, by its very nature.

Could the vast ship harm it? Yes. Very nearly permanently too. Which made the last point all the more worrisome.

Could it stop it from achieving its goals? Yes. And it could, in theory, do so indefinitely.

But a machine is only as powerful as the mind that moves the hands that drive it. If the virus could get to the carrier, those minds would be within its reach. Reach, however, was a problem. The jets could reach it, but were too small. The largest flying vehicle it had, the engine of a solar sailer, was just barely big enough to survive approach, though it was neither armed nor armored. It was also woefully dependent on its data-line: it could go only where it was taken.

The absolute largest vehicle it had couldn’t fly. It had briefly considered changing its nature, but it had been unable to. That had been an unpleasant surprise; always before, from somewhere inside its many-faceted mind, a source had found ways to shape and reshape the world around it to suit its needs. But that source was growing increasingly unreliable and fractious.

Which left the virus knowing that the sea freighter could be altered to fly, it just didn’t know how. Anger simmered in every voxel of its being – at itself, at the unreal world all around it. If it wasn’t real to begin with, why couldn’t it just do as it was told!

Ilo had, once again, provided a solution. What a lovely place that graveyard was, its gifts neverending.

The virus rose into the night on soundless antigravity equations. All power, all circuitry, was dark. All around it, its creatures carried hexagonal pieces of flickering, flexible material to cover themselves and the telltale glow of their circuitry. The only power currently running through the hulk was beneath, powering the massive antigravity engines that had once been part of so very many to keep the Island afloat.

Its mind remained partially open, listening in, but even though it was learning to sift through many voices all speaking at the same time, the communication traffic coming from the carrier was astonishingly complex. Still, it could hear no alarms going on, no telltale shouts or commands on the lines, nothing out of the ordinary.

The derelict hulk rose closer.

What a beautiful ship the carrier was, the virus thought. How useful it would be. It wanted to touch the smooth black belly of it, to feel it change. To see the red become yellow, to bask in its obedience -

Energy erupted from the belly of the carrier, a hailstorm of shots nearly perfectly synchronized that slammed into the side of the derelict. It staggered sideways and tipped just enough that several simulacra, lining up the edges of the deck, slid right off it and went tumbling into the dark, their perspectives swirling madly into the virus’ awareness.

It dismissed them at once, turning its attention fully to the counter-ambush, which also sent it stumbling. A long, broad opening ran along the bottom of the carrier. The piecemeal knowledge of all the shattered disks within it called it a docking channel – for things to dock with the carrier, not for the carrier itself to dock. Alongside this vast breach in the carrier’s structure there were no weapons, no defenses; normally it was protected by lightjets, but those had to see an enemy coming to deploy, and the virus had been ever so careful not to be seen.

Not careful enough, it realized. Along the lowest deck, flush against the docking channel, a row of tanks had pushed forward as far as they could come. Between their reckless driving and the fact that, like most tanks, they had a massive empty hollow between the front of their treads, they’d been able to drop their guns nearly to the quarter-angle mark. One shot found its range, and several infected programs flew through the air, derezzing as they fell.

The virus hissed in frustration and fury, but it quickly reconsidered its priorities as it nearly fell, the massive antigravity engines shuddering. More tanks were finding their range, aided by that first successful shot. Simulacra and infected programs kept sliding off the jagged edges of the derelict chunk.

The virus spread its lower body over the deck and sent swift mental commands to its creatures. The debris they’d been carrying was rushed to the side under attack and layered against the shots; it was a poor defense, but it only needed to work so long. The immense antigravity engines began to pick up speed. Astonishingly, some of the shots began to rebound from the debris, careening wildly back. The carrier being so close, it actually seemed for a moment as if the virus’ make-shift vessel were returning fire.

If the derelict could get close enough, it would absolutely return fire. After a fashion. But until then, it would sacrifice everything, every last simulacra, every infected program, even the giant sector-chunk from the Island, just to buy time. To buy distance.

To get close enough to touch the ship.

TWENTY SIX

“Is that the fucking Island?!” Gungnir shouted, crouched behind one of the tanks that was firing unceasingly on the approaching, broken behemot the virus had used to almost successfully ambush his flagship.

“One of its sectors, at least,” GAM replied. The Sentry was just ahead of him, one shield deployed and covering them both, as well as the Pevirian behind them.

“Don’t you be calm at me right now,” the SysAdmin snapped, though there was no real heat to his tone. “That thing’s the size of my ship and I would like to know how it got past every sensor and defense we’ve got.”

Adas, up at the command center, activated her comms. Gungnir’s communication information was plastered on every screen and console everywhere, and she already had GAM’s. “Fire, you need fire!”

“What?”

“It’s the Island!” she all but yelled at them. “The solar sails from the Island! That’s why energy’s bouncing back, they’re surge-protected! You need fire to melt them or, or something -!”

Gungnir and GAM traded a look. “SysAdmin to Armored Company Three,” Pevir’s SysAdmin commanded. “Switch to cryo shot. SysAdmin to Valravn. Amps, anything?”

“Nothing, sir,” a male voice replied.

Two of the tanks that had already found their range opened fire once again, the energy coming off their main guns dark blue. The shots slammed over the piecemeal armor the infected programs were using as defense, and spread over it in dark blue fractals, crackling along the way. The freezing effect even affected some of the programs, coating their hands and arms in ice.

“Well, this feels just like old times,” Gungnir told GAM with a wry, ferocious little grin as the Pevirian behind him put a small round device in his hand.

“I did not enjoy the old times.” They stood up simultaneously, the Sentry shielding the SysAdmin as Gungnir activated the grenade, wound up, and threw it as hard as he could.

The grenade slammed hard onto the frozen solar sail cells and shattered them. It even shattered a few hands and arms on the way; it bounced a few times, rolled along a bit, and then the magnetics activated and it clamped down onto the broken deck of the virus’ improvised battleship.

The virus turned. Its eyes widened.

The explosion sent waves of infected programs and simulacra flying everywhere, voxels spraying thick through the air, followed by a massive splash of primal matter. The hulking derelict staggered; one end tumbled for a picocycle but the antigravity protocols reengaged after a few stutters.

“You like doing that way too much,” GAM accused him mildly.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Gungnir agreed cheerfully.

The virus screamed, a hundred voices full of wordless fury, most of them coming out of its own throat, the rest from the massed infected programs all around it. It stared up at them and its fury flashed like a wave of energy through the yellow, jagged circuitry of the infected programs, the vast hulk, the virus itself.

Security.

GAM stared down at this relentless, alien enemy and tried to think. How to even tell if he was right? How to find the User that might be buried under all that rage and chaos?

He’d have been derezzed on the spot if Gungnir hadn’t yanked him down to the ground as the SysAdmin flattened himself behind the tank. A construction grappler flew past the spot where GAM had been standing, its five claws open. It rocked one of the tanks, sent another careening back with an immense gouge taken out of its side, and crashed with brutal finality through the deck above them, where its teeth twisted and locked in place.

“Over my derezzed body you do,” Gungnir snarled. A baton was immediately in his hands and he was running for the energy umbilical connecting the grappler to the virus’ make-shift vessel. He leapt; mid-air, he activated the baton into a lightblade, and brought it down onto the cord with all his strength, shattering it. The energy between the grappler and the broken contact point vanished in a burst of sparks; the one between his strike and the derelict lashed about like a whip, but before Gungnir even landed GAM was there, and rather than strike the Pevirian the wild cable crashed against the Sentry’s shield, leaving a huge black welt on it before it lost its momentum and slithered down toward the derelict.

“Very much like old times,” the Sentry told the SysAdmin, entirely unamused.

Gungnir grinned. “Drakkar CommCon,” he called out, “prepare to repel boarders -!”

A simulacra came flying through the space between the two vast ships, and slammed into GAM’s shield, snapping and clawing. The Sentry rocked back half a step, but no further. Before he could counterattack, Gungnir cut the thing in half lengthwise with his blade.

“Literally, I guess,” the SysAdmin declared in disbelief.

A hundred lines began to fly from the derelict; they were utterly random, grappling cables, chains, chunks of tension lines, anything and everything, anchored with whatever had been handy, pointy and heavy. A few had grapplers, and one tank took a direct hit. Its two-program crew leapt out just before the deck under the heavy vehicle completely disintegrated, and it fell through the air and onto the deck of the derelict, crushing programs and simulacra alike.

“No!” GAM shouted. Below them, actinic yellow began to creep over the battered tank almost at once, overwhelming the brilliant crimson lines of it.

A Pevirian program stood up from behind its cover and threw a grenade down. It latched onto the fallen tank – three simulacra lunged for it to try and remove it, but before they could it detonated, taking the tank and all three of them with it, as well as a dozen of the virus’ creatures all around them.

Gunfire derezzed the program the next moment, and a biliously yellow lightjet cut by, shots slamming into the decking, actively trying to send more tanks crashing down. Behind it, two more were banking around, light ribbons trailing behind them to act as shields between the tanks and the virus’ horde.

“There they are! Valravn!”

“We see them, sir.” Nine programs were suddenly revealed from their ambush spots, stuck to the underside of the Drakkar with gloves designed specially for that purpose. They leapt even as their cloaking dropped and the brilliant crimson of their circuitry was revealed, and a moment later activated their batons. Their lightjets were heavily customized, curves sharpened to lethal edges, angles to deadly points; before the virus’ lightjet had even finished its first pass it was taking fire from three different angles, and derezzed spectacularly. The Valravn twisted around and set off in pursuit even as their two remaining prey struggled to escape.

The fighting in the lower deck, however, was growing chaotic. It wasn’t just that some of the boarding cables were nigh-impossible to cut, like the tension cables, but that the virus has quickly realized that with them anchored it already had reach; it wasn’t reach it itself could use, but nothing kept the simulacra from swarming along those slender, fragile tethers and launching themselves at the Pevirian defenders. In ones and twos they were easy enough to fend off, but when five, seven, ten leapt at one program, they became nigh impossible to stop.

“Fort!” Gungnir yelled over the commline.

The Gridborn dropped down from the mid-deck, crushing a simulacra under himself. He was shifting so quickly that it looked like a sheet of liquid metal dancing in mid-air, uninhibited by things like gravity or density. He became impossibly thin and rolled abruptly to one side, and two chains snapped with claps of thunder, the cut links white-hot as they derezzed. He peeled three simulacra off one program and left them behind in twitching pieces before they caught up to the fact that they’d been derezzed and collapsed into piles of slush. “Ancilia forward!” the Gridborn shouted, turning into a spiral and snatching away two badly wounded programs among the endlessly spinning coils.

Immense shields began to advance, covering the retreat of the Pevirians. They were, in fact, not a single shield but three programs armed with interlocking shields. They moved implacably forward, forcing the simulacra back, giving them no room to attack; from behind the shelter of those shields, disks went flying into the creatures whenever they tried to leap over, or to use the tanks as springboards. Simulacra began to fall over the edge of the docking lane and back onto the derelict.

“Valravn to SysAdmin,” the CO of Pevir’s ambush flight suddenly called out. “They’re down. No further flight forces detected.”

“Good,” Gungnir split his baton. Between the halves, a long handle took shape, half again as long as the SysAdmin was tall, tipped by a gleaming red blade. His voice dropped to a dark, lethal tone. “Amps, I don’t like sharing my airspace.”

“Noted, sir,” the program replied with deep satisfaction. The nine Pevirian lightjets, on approach to the upper deck, banked and dropped instead, falling into a slow aileron roll. In a moment they were below both the Drakkar and the virus’ derelict.

And well within range of the unprotected antigravity engines of the latter.

“PEVIR!” Gungnir shouted, swinging down the spear to point it at the virus and its creatures. “There is GARBAGE on my decks!”

A roar of gleeful fury answered him. Extra hands helped the Ancilia shove the shields forward as if they were so many brooms, sweeping and shoving the simulacra off the deck, back onto the derelict or, in some cases, right out into thin air. The tanks, having realized that their own people were too close for them to risk firing, began to roll back, presenting their sides instead, an abrupt and impregnable blockade. Disks were doing deadly damage to the awkward, misshapen creatures, and their numbers began to dwindle.

#fanfiction #my writing #original character #sci fi #fantasy violence #fantasy #tron 1982 #tron evolution #strong language #tron uprising #tron legacy

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twistedsin · 5 years ago

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Idia’s new invention

Always use lube and condoms and practice safe sex kiddos

Synopsis: Idia designs an adult toy for you and needs you to test it, but you look so cute using it he can’t help himself from joining in the fun~

Kinks: toys, double penetration, butt stuff

“It’s uhm… not what I… e-expected.” Your face burned bright pink as you stared down at the present Idia had just given you.

“Do you hate it? Is it bad? I like pleasuring you I just… you want it more often than I feel I can give.” Idia bit his lip and picked up the vibrator he designed for you. It was bright blue to match his hair, a slight curve to it and a rabbit attachment. The shaft was textured with several rings; they were also located where the toy extended. “It vibrates and thrusts on 5 different settings… I didn’t get around to adding rotating beads, I wanted to perfect the other two basics first. Will you just try it out at least once so I can improve it.” His cheeks flared pink, “And I love seeing you enjoy yourself.”

“Fine. I guess if you went through all the trouble of making it for me I could at least try it out.” You gave a small smile, removing your clothes and laying back on his bed. Idia leaned over and kissed you, his fingers running up your slit. You shivered into the kiss. Idia pulled away to properly lube up the toy. “Mou�� this stuff gets everywhere.” He sighed before running the toy along your slit. “Ready?” He waited for your nod before sliding the toy in until it snuggly pressed on your clit. You let out a few short breaths as your body adjusted to being filled and the new stimulating pressure. “It feels good so far~” You sighed, very excited for what was to come. “Don’t move. I have to wash my hands.” Can’t type notes with lube hands.

Finally Idia returned, sitting at his computer purposely ignoring you. “Idiaaaa~” You whined nudging him with your foot. “Couldn’t help it.” He smiled, loving the way you called out his name when you pouted. He reached into his pocket and suddenly the toy came to life inside you. It was a soft start of course, a low buzzing and short slow thrusts. You hummed, pleased with the subtle feelings but wanting more. You rolled your hips trying to get more friction. “Oh right I forgot to activate the rabbit.” Idia mumbled and the rabbit suddenly came to life at full speed. “Ahh!” Your hips raised as a loud moan escaped your lips, the rabbit’s ears assaulting your clit with repeated teasing taps. The sensations made your walls tighten and hips rolling slightly. You still needed more; more friction, more intensity. Idia knew what you wanted and eventually complied, turning up the thrusting speed and vibration up but simultaneously turning the rabbit speed down. The pleasure focused inside, the toy pushing deeper and more frequently pushing against your sensitive spots. The vibrating making your insides pulse. Your moans were more frequent, hips rolling. Your body clenched around the toy, still wanting more. “More~” You whined between moans. Idia obeyed, increasing the vibration of the rabbit and the body.

“Yes~” You moaned, this was what you needed. Your clit and your inside being teased, and the constant friction of the deep toy rubbing against you. Your hips rolled, your breath becoming shallow as you approached your climax. “Cumming~” You gasped as your body tipped over the edge sending a rolling wave of pleasure through you. Idia didn’t seem to be paying attention, but he definitely took notice. He typed away at his computer before mumbling something. “That took too long… I should increase the base settings.”

As you came down from your pleasure high your hips jolted back as the toy continued to buzz. You clenched, to help reduce the friction on your stiff clit but it only intensified the feeling inside. “I-Idia.” You squeeld. “Ah, right sorry…” Idia glanced over at you and increased the thrust of the toy. Your hips raised as a loud groan escaped. It was pushing so much deeper than before~ It pushed against your g-spot on and off your hips twitching each time. “N-noo~” You whined, your next orgasm was already quickly building. Idia didn’t listen to your protests, leaving it on the medium settings. Letting the pleasures stay consistent, building you up but not enough to push you over. Finally the vibrations of the rabbit increased to max again, assaulting your already sensitive clit. “Cum-cuming~” You cried again as your hips shook as a small wave of pleasure ran over you.

That had to be it right? That was the full extent of the testing since you were sure that was the highest setting. “Better, seems like the reach is good.” Idia typed more. The toy didn’t cease as you orgasm lessened, not truly fading as the vibrating kept you on edge. You panted, fidgeting in place trying to adjust yourself so the feeling wouldn’t be as intense on your sensitive places but it only increased the feeling. It did get the toy to dislodge a bit, lessening the pressure on your clit. “I-idiaaa~” You called, wanting his attention at least if he was going to make you this much of a mess. “Right. More.” He commented, turning the toy to its max settings. “M-more!” You gasped in disbelief throwing your head back as the vibrations and thrusting speed of the toy increased. The pressure on your g-spot was essentially constant rubbing. The vibrations making your sensitive walls quiver. You whined and groaned, your body moving with the toy, you were unsure if it was trying to escape the pleasure or increase it. Finally Idia looked over, eyes trailing over the rest of your exposed body before examine the mess your lower was. You were absolutely soaking, you juices running down your ass. “I see you like it. Oh it’s falling out…” He grabbed the handle and pulled the toy out slightly before thrusting it back deeper inside you. That intensified push instantly sent you over the edge again. He held the toy tight as your whole body shuddered, your juices squirting out a bit onto his hand. Your moan devolved into a whine, pain starting to push through the pleasure as the stimulation continued.

Idia looked into your eyes, half-lidded, lost in pleasure. He loved it. “You look so cute. I really want to fuck you myself now…” He whispered, a hand traveling down to squeeze your breast. “But you’re filled with the toy, I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun with that.” His other hand moved to your pussy, sending shivers up your spine as he coated his fingers with your juices. Once they were slick with lube and cum he slipped his middle finger into your asshole. Your body jolted at the new feeling, clenching around the finger leading to a moan. “I can use this hole then.” His finger thrust in and out softly, occasionally swirling around to help prepare you. The toy was still at full power in your sore pussy. Idia held down your hips to keep you steady as he slipped a second finger in, now making scissoring motions. The added feeling from his fingers and the relentless motions of the toy forced you over the edge again. “I-it’s too mu-ch” You gasped between breaths, tears welling in your eyes. “You’re always saying you want more.” A smirk came across Idia’s lips. You whimpered a little mad he was right, though your thoughts weren’t able to stay focused on the topic for long. Idia’s third finger slipped inside. You tried to squirm as he twisted them and gave a few quick thrust. “That should be good.” You couldn’t help but pout a bit when the fingers slipped out, the new sensation gone. Idia tried not to take too long as he removed his pants and lubed up his dick. Unlike with the toy he gave no extra warning before grabbing your hips and pulling you onto him. Your back arched as you cried out, it felt so much thicker than his fingers had and pushed the toy harder against your swollen clit. “Ah! Fuuck~” You whined as both your holes tightened around what was inside. Idia grunted giving a hard buck, pushing deeper as you came. “You’re squeezing so tight it’s amazing.” He picked up the pace wanting to prevent your orgasm from fading as long as he could. You were simply a whining moaning mess. You were so full. Everything felt amazing, somewhat painful, but amazing none the less. You looked up at Idia, just focused on how happy he looked fucking you. His thrusts quickened, pulling you deeper on to his shaft. His movements added a thrusting motion to the toy as well. You had no other thoughts aside from when your next orgasm was coming and when Idia was going to come as well. You had wanted to call out his name, but you weren’t even sure you were capable of words right now. Idia’s thrusts became more erratic and you could tell he was getting close. Your body quaked as the strongest orgasm yet washed over you, sending Idia over the edge, his cum bursting out and filling your ass. You called out together sharing the moment of ecstasy.

Slowly his hips came to a stop, but he didn’t pull out just yet, instead removing the toy first and turning it off. While you were relieved, you couldn’t help but whine a little at the sudden loss of the toy. Idia looked down at your pussy, examining how soaked you were, how your lips still trembled and how swollen your clit was. It seems the toy did its job very well. Eventually he slowly pulled out, your sensitive body twitching a little. He continued to admire the sight of his cum dripping out of your ass and mixing with your juices.

“You did amazing.” Idia leaned down and gave you a brief kiss on the lips. He knew he put you through a lot but it was all very worth it for both of you.

#twisted wonderland #twstd #idia shroud #twstdspice #spicy fic #twisted wonderland; idia #sorry for the term 'butt stuff'#i fear tumbles algorithm

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momentofmemory · 5 years ago

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FICTOBER 2020 - day two

Prompt #2: “That’s the easy part.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Characters: Ned Leeds, Peter Parker

Words: 1445

Author’s Note: set semi-immediately post FFH, Ned & Peter have a chat on the nature of friendship, and a bit of star wars meta along the way. Ned POV. for @friendofspidermannedleeds

>> the han dies alone

Spider-Man was Peter Parker.

It was a fact that could mean a lot of things to Ned, but all that really mattered now was that it meant something to the entire world.

He’d watched the stream in mounting horror, his phone already blowing up with group messages and twitter mentions, and he had to bite back a hysterical laugh when he got a string of Snaps from Flash—one of which included an invite to an interview, and the rest of which devolved into increasingly confusing profanity.

Ned let them roll in for another few precious seconds, then muted all notifications except from emergency contacts, stuffed a bunch of supplies into the extra backpack he kept for when Peter lost his, and ran the full two blocks east to Peter’s apartment.

It was, to be perfectly honest, an absurd guess. Peter could’ve gone anywhere, but Peter was also a creature of habit—and home was where Peter went when he wanted to feel safe.

Ned’s guess was rewarded when he pounded on the Parkers’ apartment door and was nearly decked in the face by a red-clad fist.

“Whoa, hey, it’s me!”

Peter’s fist fell away instantly, giving Ned his first real look at his friend.

He looked even worse than he’d feared; his normally high-key energy verging on something closer to manic.

“Ned? What are you doing here? It’s not safe—”

“I came for you, man.” Ned hefted his backpack into the air, sliding deftly past Peter and into the hall. “Fifteen hundred piece lego set, beef jerky, granola, and also that history assignment you left on the floor last night.”

Peter stared at him in utter confusion, then shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Maybe, but it’s too late now. Where’s May?”

“She’s with Happy.” Peter followed Ned back into the bedroom. “They’re supposed to call when they know more.”

Good. If someone else was taking care of the world, then all Ned had to take care of was Peter.

______________________

"You should leave.”

“Yep.” Ned didn’t look up from his econ homework—It was at least the fourth time they’d had this conversation, and explaining opportunity cost to Mrs. Roessler seemed far more important. “Not going to.”

“Ned.”

“Peter. You said you were supposed to stay here until May or Happy texts. So that’s what we’re doing.”

Peter fell quiet for a moment, and Ned went on to the comparison sections for absolute advantage vs comparative advantage.

Then:

“It’s safer for me than it is for you.”

“And it’s safer for me when I’m with you.”

Something about that response seemed to rile Peter up specifically, as Ned could hear him shifting around on the bed. “And what about when the next axe crazy supervillain tries to use you as bait?”

“Then that’s the easy part,” Ned said with a shrug. “You rescue me.”

“Ned!” Peter tumbled off the top bunk, hair disheveled and looking absolutely scandalized. “This isn’t—this isn’t something to joke about—”

“I’m not joking.”

Peter frowned harder, and Ned momentarily stopped chewing his gum. He figured he was probably doing something cool like listening to his heartbeat or counting the beads of sweat on his forehead, so he didn’t want any chewing noises or motions to distract him.

Whatever Peter was looking for, he must not have found it. “Ned, just—just because you’re not joking doesn’t mean you’re serious. They could kill you to get at me.”

Ned sighed and put his homework down on the desk, resigning himself to another late assignment. It wasn’t like they were likely to have school tomorrow, anyway.

Discovering Spider-Man was on Midtown’s roll was sure to warrant at least one emergency “teacher work day” for the administration.

Peter was still looking at him, and the open fear on his face scared him more than he’d like to admit. Ned quickly pulled up YouTube on his laptop and started typing, just to give him something to do.

The second hand on the analogue clock ticked ominously.

Still no word from May.

“Look,” Ned said eventually, sliding another piece of gum out of his stash, “Han Solo was trying to leave the Rebellion when Vader captured him and Leia. He was out, and he still got used as bait.”

“That’s different,” Peter said. “Han was working with the Rebellion for months, and he was still there during the Hoth attack.”

Ned smacked his gum. “But Han himself wasn’t with the Rebellion. Or Luke.”

“But the Empire didn’t know that!”

“So what you’re saying is,” Ned said, “their current status didn’t matter because of their pre-existing relationship.”

Peter had nothing to say to that.

Ned returned his attention to the copyright infringement notice he’d written up. He’d managed to claim almost all of the footage from Mysterio’s reveal, and now anyone trying to repost it would be automatically taken down by the algorithm. It wouldn’t hold up in court, but all he needed was for it to ping YouTube’s three strike rule.

Hopefully that would buy them enough time to come up with a more permanent solution.

Ned heard Peter shift behind him, then launch himself back up onto the bunk bed and out of sight.

More seconds.

“...Han got tortured,” Peter said, voice muffled. “And then locked in carbonite for months.”

Ned winced. It was a fair point.

“He got the girl, though. Think MJ’d let me kiss her?”

“Ned.”

“I’m kidding! Also I completely respect her both as your significant other and as an individual person, please don’t tell her I said that I don’t want to die.”

Something cracked loudly behind him, and by the time Ned spun the chair around Peter was looking morosely down at the splintered headboard between his hands.

“If you don’t want to die,” Peter said, and the anguish in his friend’s voice finally lowered Ned’s defenses, “then why won’t you just leave?”

Ned tapped his fingers uselessly against the base of his laptop, then abruptly closed the lid. Despite being Peter’s guy in the chair, this was the kind of thing that could only be handled in person.

“Scoot over,” he said, awkwardly clambering up onto the bed that could barely hold one of them, let alone both. But it had in the past, and he was confident it would again.

Peter shifted to the side of the wall to make room, all but squashing himself into the corner, and it was so spider-like Ned didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He settled for another sigh, and watched the seconds on the clock on the wall tick by.

It was only a matter of time before some excitable journalist—or worse—showed up at the Parker’s door, but they didn’t have anywhere else much safer until May or Happy called Peter back. He figured since they hadn’t, they were at least okay for now.

He waited until the muscles in Peter’s arms unwound, and Peter had successfully peeled himself off the corner, to speak.

“We’ve been best friends for ages,” he said, slowly. Unable to hide his own fear from coloring his voice. “If I were going to avoid getting used to hurt you or whatever, I probably needed to stop being your friend like, before high school years ago.”

Peter flinches. “You don’t have to be part of this, we can make it look like a huge fight, or like you didn’t know—”

“Peter,” Ned pressed, “how would me knowing or not knowing make me any less of a target? If I told you to hate me, could you do it?”

“No!”

The words shot out of Peter’s mouth faster than he could fire his webshooters, but he only understood their significance once they were in the air. Peter stared down at his wrists, as if he could see them written there.

“…I just don’t want to lose anyone else,” he said.

“Trust me when I say I don’t want to be lost.” Ned shuddered, then shrugged. “The way I see it, yeah, Han dies eventually. But he also doesn’t die until the trio breaks up, right? Luke’s halfway across the galaxy and Leia’s not much better. So Han dies when he’s alone. Maybe because he’s alone.”

The corner of Peter’s lip quirked up; the closest thing to a smile Ned had gotten so far. “Weren’t Rey and Finn—”

“Literally let me have this for once I feel like I’m making a really good point.”

Peter snorted, and that definitely counted as a win. Ned knocked his shoulder against Peter’s.

“What d’you say. No going Solo?”

Peter bit his lip, still wrestling with the guilt. Then he nodded.

“No going solo.”

#fictober20 #ned leeds #peter parker #fanfiction #spiderman #memsfic

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

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My phone has been going off every ten minutes because LinkedIn featured my comment on higher education. It’s a lot like when you post a cautionary google article on tumblr and it gets reblogged. You kind of get visibility but it’s mostly people talking over you and ignoring the source. Five hundred comments and one hundred and seventy two reactions later the algorithm thinks I should be chief of staff at a Chicago psychological institute now. It’s more about how you look to algorithms now because people aren’t even paying attention to anything but themselves and a bottom line. Real human activity is nonexistent. Nobody from my old professional network reaches out or asks how I’m doing. None of my resumes make it through. Day after day is the same old, frustrating quiet. I read bullying articles about how the price of my stocks go down when they go up. I wonder when all of this comes tumbling down? When any sort of truth on my side is worth anything. Or if I’m just going to scream into the void and let the algorithms figure it out. It is it’s own kind of hell. The problem isn’t jobs, covid or the government in America. It’s basic human selfishness. And I am not a selfish person so I’ll suffer in obscurity just to prove the point. Because it’s not going to pay off any other way. Which says a lot about how some people value me deep down. Almost next to nothing at all. Just a trick or inside joke they think they’re in on to trade behind my back. I took that shit private a long time ago. If you want to buy stock in me just buy my music. Even in that I’m painfully invisible and I can’t argue something nobody wants to admit they contribute to. The wall between us is greed, fear and insecurity. And a lot of people desperately trying to hold it up against me because they know I’ll run over them the first chance I get. Just get ready for the skid mark.

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enccrypted · 5 years ago

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@timerotted {

💖 from wraith !!

} // ⨳ — SEND 💖 TO HOLD MY MUSE’S HAND; — wraith .

he’d known from the start that he was in over his head. But just how far had he sunken into this terrible mess with Mila and the algorithm? ... with his desperate turn to the black market augmentations in an impulsive, short-sighted effort to escape Syndicate eyes? ... and with his too-elaborate plan to topple the Repulsor Tower and to insert himself into the Games, right under the noses of the very people who want him dead? No, Crypto wasn’t in over his head — he’s practically dug his own grave.

With every match he survived and with each moment he spent biding his time among the Legends, he could feel it: the beginnings of six feet worth of dirt trickling down on him and piling atop his skull. That same thickheaded skull to which Ms Tik often delivered a firm but gentle whack!, accompanied by rolling eyes and that exasperated sigh of ‘smarty-pants’ she gave whenever he got too cheeky with her.

She had been worried for him when he’d gotten into the Games’ database and when he took down the Tower. She understood his intentions, understood it was necessary if he wanted a chance of ever reclaiming his life and his innocence — but could he handle it? she’d asked him over a letter cleverly disguised across adverts in the Apex Games’ email service. He sensed that maternal distress even in split, discreetly coded messages: her covert plea for him to consider his life above the pursuit of justice.

‘Trust me,’ he’d written back the only time he was able, just before he departed to Talos. ‘This won’t be the last time you hear from me. I’ll be all right — I always am. Mila and I didn’t learn resourcefulness from just anyone, did we? You're not going to lose a son.’

(Not again.)

‘I’ll see you again soon... Family forever.’ He’d signed off then with a simple C, packaging the encoded letter into the innocuous survey response that Mystik had supplied him. (It had been linked in hex code, hidden away within the banner image on the advertised site that she’d set up for their temporary communications... Mystik’s strays had to get their cleverness from someone, indeed.)

He’d survived this long. There was nothing left for him to lose.

And yet, he finds himself wondering more and more if this was a mistake, after all. He’d known, when he first hatched his plan, that he had no chance to wrestle his way into the Apex Games through the qualifying tournaments. Even with fresh tech driven into his skin that would let him see anything in the arena, he’d had no interest in trying his luck against the likes of McCormick and Newcastle. And of course, he thinks to himself bitterly now as he grits his teeth, digging calloused fingers harder into the rock above. How the hell would he have survived qualifiers if it's a piece of loose pavement that's going to send him to a pitiful death?

He thought he’d become good at running, if nothing else. And run he did throughout this entire match, falling further and further behind Wraith and Pathfinder as he ducked into side paths and crammed himself into tight cracks in Lava City’s cave walls. (He nearly suffocated there as he waited with bated breath for Bloodhound to scurry past, hoping to God that his EMP had fried their trackers enough to mask his trail. But at least he’d escaped the fate of being speared on their knife.) His detour took him, once he’d squeezed himself out of the rock wall, next through what’s left of the crumbling Capitol City. In hindsight, he should’ve known better — Capitol is never empty.

He’d swerved into the ruins of a nearby building to avoid coming under fire and clambered down into what he knew is a still-intact level bridging the west and east of Capitol over the rift that split the city in two, with bullets streaking narrowly past his head...

And he’d tripped over uneven cracked cement and tumbled down a sharp incline, straight down towards the molten pit below. By some luck, in his twisting and his clawing at the ground above, his fingers found purchase amongst the broken rock and metal. He was stupid, so stupid...! Of course sheer luck was the only reason he’s made it this far. It’s the only reason he’s still alive now, hanging on for dear life with bleeding hands as he curses his own idiocy.

Glass digs into his palms and the underside of his fingers, the heat rising from the magma below hot on the soles of his dangling feet. He’s not going to last much longer. Crypto clenches his jaw and screws his eyes shut as his grip, damp with sweat, loosens — and the block of cement gives in to his weight, crumbling away from where it attaches to steady ground.

He falls, screaming.

As it turns out, life isn’t what flashes before your eyes when gravity’s sending you hurtling, at 50 metres per second, down towards the molten rock bubbling thickly below. Unless life was nothing but regret: all the opportunities gained (too few) and all the countless more he’s lost; all the failures (too many) that haunted his restless dreams, those same dreams that blur nebulously into his early waking hours; Mystik’s smile and the warmth of her hand against the back of his neck; his mother’s face...

Something snatches at his hand, wrapping his wrist in a vice grip and wrenching him up against the inevitability of gravity. Crypto gasps, the air fleeing his lungs as his weight protests the impossible counter-force. His shoulder flares hot, threatening to pop his arm out from its socket, and he thinks he hears himself shouting as he swings to a stop in mid-air. There’s a roaring from somewhere above him, one that deafens even the blood that’s rushing through his head. Accompanying it is a strangeness — a potent and insidious energy unlike anything he knows in this world. As he sways dangerously above scalding heat, his mind shrieks with fear, thrashing helplessly against whatever’s opened up above him even more than it protested the fate that waits for him below.

But instinct surges above the blood surging hot in his veins and head. Crypto latches on without another thought, curling fingers tight around the sudden anchor and grasping hard.

As soon as he finds his grip, he’s jerked up towards that terrible potency, and something heavy and dark and cold swallows him whole. His stomach lurches as he’s dragged forward, up and down, thrown about, weighed down and crushed beneath the pressure of the space that’s devoured him, pulled in every direction all at once. He forces his eyes open, through the swelling tears, to flashes of blinding white and blue shimmering through the blackness. The dizzying reality around him swirls uncontrollably, familiar and yet shapeless, without form —

And then he topples face-down into cracked ground, his arm burning and chest heaving for air that won’t come. He pushes himself up with his uninjured arm, forcing himself up onto his back with a gasp as his lungs finally learn how to breathe again. He’s alive. He squints up into the sun, his eyes burning as they rekindle a briefly-lost acquaintance with light and colour.

He thinks he’s dreaming it at first. But as he lifts his head, his blurring vision shifting back into focus, he sees it clearly: a still-lingering void, murky and shimmering between his eyes and the skies. As soon as Crypto catches sight of it, the portal vanishes, leaving nothing but a cloudless afternoon blue above. He lets his head fall back, wincing as his skull hits the ground with a hard thud, and heaves a sigh.

Wraith.

There’s a stinging burn in his torso. Crypto looks down to see the jagged, dark tearing across the front of his shirt and the skin of his chest. He presses a metal-padded fingertip against the wound, wincing as it comes away slick with blood. At least a half a centimetre deep. The steel in the reinforced concrete must have caught onto flesh and sliced him through in his tumble. Teaches you to look where you’re going next time! a voice snickers in his hazy mind, tossing a mane of red hair in its wake as it retreats again to the back of his head.

It takes a minute or two. But the throbbing in his temples and the beat of his thundering heart finally slows as the adrenaline of near-death ebbs out of his system. As the thrill bleeds away, every scrape and ache flares to the forefront of his consciousness. His chest is on fire, his arms like lead and his right shoulder almost certainly dislocated. He tries, experimentally, to flex the fingers of his right hand... and realises he’s still clutching tightly to Wraith, his thumb and fingers encircling her wrist in a tight, still-trembling grip. Crypto’s eyes dart up to hers, mouth falling open as he searches, dumbly, for the words to form some sort of apology.

Finding none, he glances away, loosening his fingers quickly and making to tug his hand out of her grasp. But, too caught between the fogginess of blood-loss and the agonising throb of his entire body, he doesn’t quite manage to free himself.

“S... sorry,” he mumbles, turning away to peer dazedly towards the edge of the crevasse he’d narrowly avoided dropping into. He’s not so sure what it is that he’s apologising for. Finding himself separated from the squad when he’d spent too long easing his drone into unexplored territories, searching for some place or something that screamed ‘Syndicate secrets’? Nearly taking the most pathetic exit from the Games possible? Or making her chase him all the way out here to make sure he didn’t take that fall?

... Right. “Thank you.” He drags the back of his sleeve across his upper lip, wiping away the damp of sweat. Hopefully that, and his gratitude, will be enough to distract her from the shame burning red-hot in his cheeks. He lets out a hollow chuckle, squeezing her hand dazedly, and blinks over his sleeve and up into the skies. “I was... I — I guess I was being an idiot, huh.”

#you're just a messenger. 그래도 넌 죽었어. \` * file: ask.#timerotted #long post cw #'an idiot'?? u dont say.#this is.. unnecessarily long. I KNOW... but i just love using asks to write lil mini atmospheric essays... settings and all :')) hope its ok #am sure there's lots of mistakes but at this point i cannot be assed to fix them until tomorrow. praying the premise is clear tho #crypto: holds a girls hand in order to escape from imminent death ; also crypto: am i. holding a girls hand. rn .. oh g o d #feel free to respond or not respond but u dont gotta match any length in any way.. id hope that you wouldn't LMAO !!

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granddaughterogg · 6 years ago

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Darksiders: The Great House Party - chapter 2

Jealousy

The party unfolds and the Reader has to confront her own long unresolved attraction to Strife, who - yeah, you've guessed it - is acting kind of like an asshole. Thankfully Azrael sees right through him!

(You can read the whole work on AO3 if you prefer. I removed the link because Tumblr apparently renders posts with links invisible to the searching algorithm. Oh well. Go there and look for Granddaughter_Ogg.)

The heat of the humid summer night clung to your skin. You felt the moisture trapped in your hair, a trail of sweat wandering down your back under your light cotton sundress.

You stood on the doorstep, nursed a beer, and watched the party unfurl around you.

All the guests invited answered The Call, as you’ve jokingly named it. War made a face and Death told you you shouldn’t use such wording flippantly.

It took three weeks of intense communication between the realms to get the invitations out. Sometimes you’d use Vulgrim’s Serpent Holes, sometimes you’d resort to e-mailing (Azrael was definitely one progressive archangel). Setting a date that fit everyone’s schedules proved to be a tall order, but —to your pleasant surprise— they were all here now.

‘I guess they do like me,’ you thought to yourself. It was a good thought to harbour, like a little fuzzy creature held to your cheek.

The spacious yard before you teemed with life, the buzz of conversation high in the air. War has brought out all the sofas, the recliners, and even your bean-bags for the smaller guests to rest on. He and Death also carried in some wide tree stumps for the magical Scots-people, although none of them were that fond of sitting. „Ma legs start to feel funny when I do thaet fer too long,” as Ulthane would say. The Makers were an energetic bunch.

Ulthane and War built the barbecue in your garden. That’s right —built, not just put together, because it was humongous. The smallest stones used for its base seemed bigger than your head. An iron-wrought lattice served as the grill grate. War apparently “borrowed” it from some abandoned house down the road.

„No one is going to miss that thing,” or so he told you. You thought that even if there were, in fact, people living in that decrepit place, they probably laid low in fear while one angry-looking giant took their gate away.

Various meats sizzled on the barbie, filling the yard with an appetizing scent. There were chicken legs for the humans —you specifically asked for them— but also a whole deer.

Where the heck did Ulthane get a deer?

You watched the Maker flip the roast with the steady hand of a pro while he chatted with War. The Red Rider wouldn’t be pulled away from all this food even with a bulldozer.

His lightning blue eyes twinkled with glee. You knew this is where your second love’s gonna stay until the party’s end.

At least until the end of deer.

Death and Strife have rolled out a battery of beer kegs. There was also a table where the small-handed folk could mix their own drinks if they so wished. Fury’s acquaintances from Haven (a bunch of perfectly nice kids, from what you could gather) were already helping themselves to it. Their laughter rang in the air.

‘Maybe I’ll join them,’ you thought, ‘But not just now. In a while.’

Twenty feet away from them resided Fury herself, who was in charge of the music. She lounged on a pile of bean bags and clicked continuously on her laptop, which has been connected to Strife’s high-end gamer speakers. She looked ecstatic. The beat of Beyonce’s „Sweet dreams” boomed loud and clear in the trees.

Uriel and Usiel perched on two ends of the longest sofa available. Both looked awfully nervous, sipping their drinks and kicking their feet to the tune. They tried their damnedest not to peek at each other.

‘Oh, great,’ you smiled, ‘We’re gonna have some good ol’ party drama. Just like in high school.’

Speaking of drama. Strife really threw you for a loop there. The sly fucker brought in his two girlfriends.

At least that’s who you assumed they were.

„Angela, Janice, meet the resident Princess Peach of this house!” The gunslinger’s voice boomed in your ear, making you wince. You turned around and there he was, looking damn fine in tight jeans and a black shirt with its sleeves rolled up. You could admire all the ink.

His voice was already anointed with booze, eyes sparkled mischievously. Strife had both arms around two of the finest women you’ve seen in a while.

They were both crazy tall and wearing spiky heels. The gunslinger didn’t even tower over them that much. Long and lean ladies, leggy, all in all beautiful. Angela was the dark-skinned one in a gold-sequined number. She blew you a kiss. Janice was pale and had perfectly straight, silver blonde bangs, the kind of which you’ve only seen in fashion magazines so far. The hair reached all down to her ass.

She scrunched her nose at you. You felt awfully short and fat all of a sudden.

Like a peasant standing next to royalty.

„I have a name, you know...” you hissed at Strife. He gave you a shit-eating grin. The bastard.

„Angela. Janice. So nice to meet you.” You nodded stiffly at the two goddesses, not sure whether or not to offer them a hand. Theirs were busy stroking the smiling Horseman.

„Gosh, is that Azrael over there? Sorry, gotta go!” You huffed and ran.

His smirk burned you even while you fled.

You dove into the angel headfirst. Like a kid running to their mom when they’ve been bullied at the daycare.

„Why hello there,” Azrael’s level timbre was music to your ears. You pressed both palms into his gown and looked up to that sensitive, intelligent face, into the all-knowing eyes, which were now twinkling with amusement.

„Sorry about that,” you breathed, ”Had to get myself out of a tight spot.” He just nodded. Of course he did.

„So, Az. Are you having fun?”

He smiled again and lifted up a flute of champagne.

„I have to say that I am,” He missed a beat and then stated simply: „You care about him, don’t you.”

You inhaled sharply.

„You talkin’ about Death or War? Because I sure as hell do care about them both.”

Azrael let out an adorable little chuckle.

„Of that I am fairly sure. No, I meant the third brother. The troublemaker.”

„Strife?” you snorted, „No way! Why would I want to have anything to do with that irresponsible, nasty, self-centred piece of ass…?” Your voice trailed off, „Besides he only dates models,” you mumbled.

Azrael took a sip from his flute.

„This is exquisite. Who picked this vintage?”

„Death did. I don’t know shit about them finer drinks,” you said absentmindedly. Where was Death anyway?

Azrael chuckled again.

„I admire your piercing candour. Never change.”

Twenty feet from you, Fury climbed to he top of her beanbag throne, eyes ablaze, an angular bottle in one hand and a pair of headphones in the other.

You realized with a start that the most sensible of the Four was probably full of Jack by now.

Her exultation shone like a hundred suns.

„Hey, that’s my gear! Watch it!” That was Strife, lounging on a recliner with a bottle of his own. The pretty ladies all but slithered over his long frame.

You looked away.

„Fuck off, brother!” cried Fury with gusto, „Dear guests! This one goes out for all the feathery friends who joined us tonight!”

The vibrant tones of Beyonce’s „Halo” filled the yard.

Remember those walls I built Well, baby, they're tumbling down And they didn't even put up a fight They didn't even make a sound

Uriel stole a glance at Usiel. Usiel looked back. Then they both abruptly turned away from each other.

„Oh, my,” whispered Azrael playfully, „That’s so sweet, it’s making me blush.”

You gave him a hard stare.

„You almost never blush, Azrael. You make other people blush. That’s your M.O.”

I found a way to let you win But I never really had a doubt Standing in the light of your halo I got my angel now

You couldn’t let Uriel and Usiel out of your sight. It was fascinating. She stared into the other angel’s eyes with hard resolve and wiggled her eyebrows, finger pointing at the portion of the yard that served as the dancefloor. The humans were already there.

Usiel nodded curtly and they both stood up. Their wings brushed awkwardly against each other. You could tell that neither of them is any good at dancing.

„You know me so well.” Azrael’s knowing smile started to get on your nerves.

„I knew you just once, I mean in the Biblical sense. But it sure was eye-opening.*”

„Yes, I can remember.”

„What, are you gonna gloat now?”

„Never.” The angel leaned in closely. In his eyes was only kindness.

„I cherish that memory greatly. I cherish you. That’s why I’m going to tell you this: not one of those stunning females currently all over Strife is his date.”

You looked through him as if he was a windowpane.

„I need to find Death”, you stated bluntly and left.

You're everything I need and more It's written all over your face Baby, I can feel your halo Pray it won't fade away…

The angels shared a kiss before the song ended.

* Please see my other story called Azrael is a kinkster for juicy details.

#darksiders #darksiders fanfiction #the great house party #strife/reader #azrael/reader #darksiders war #darksiders death #darksiders strife #darksiders fury #keeping up with the nephilim #darksiders azrael #darksiders ulthane #darksiders uriel #darksiders usiel #polyamory is hard sometimes

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sparrowrider · 7 years ago

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Thermal Energy [Connor x borrower!reader]

HAT Day has come and gone, but I still wanted to do something for it, so...here we go! I’ve recently gotten really obsessed with a video game called Detroit: Become Human, so...last night I miraculously spouted out 2.1k words of this!

Warnings: freezing; brief mention of death; anxiety/feelings of helplessness

@misfitsgalaxygt @tinypancakes (I finally got around to posting it :D)

[A/N: This takes place after the events of the game, assuming you get an ending where Connor becomes deviant]

To say that it was cold would be the understatement of the century.

Shivers wracked your tiny form as you stumbled forward, wading through snow that reached your waist. Though it would barely brush the ankles of any humans that would happen to wander through this part of town (unlikely at this ungodly hour of the night), to you the snow formed an obstacle of mountainous—not to mention freezing—proportions.

It had all started when your cozy little home tucked away underneath a human’s house had frozen over. Though it had certainly gotten cold in the past, frost had never formed over half of your food stores in the past—so you figured it was time to move.

You’d planned it carefully—you waited until the dead of night, when most humans were sleeping, and wore your best camouflage clothes possible. You hadn’t even intended on going particularly far—you just needed to find a place with better heating, after all.

You did not, however, count on the possibility that it would begin to snow, nor did you think it’d pick up as rapidly as it did. You had attempted to hide away until the storm ended, but unfortunately, that had resulted in the current predicament in which you were stuck.

Your limbs were rapidly growing heavier and heavier as numbness slowly spread through your body; your ragged, homemade fleece had long since been soaked through, and provided no relief against the biting winds.

Suddenly, your foot caught on something hard underneath the stone—some sort of root, perhaps—and you tumbled forward, somersaulting through the snow at an alarming rate. Your breath was knocked out of your lungs as you landed on your back, now completely and thoroughly soaked, bruised and aching all over.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you attempted to sit up, struggling to catch your breath. Your limbs felt like lead, however—you couldn’t move without them screaming in protest as you struggled to catch your breath.

Who were you kidding? This whole venture was hopeless. Everything was hopeless.

You closed your eyes, the cold no longer so horribly biting. Maybe you could lie here for a few moments to regain your strength.

Just a few moments, though. You knew that staying in the cold for too long was dangerous...but a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

Unconsciousness claimed you quickly.

* * *

Connor rather liked snow.

There was something beautiful about the way it fell gently from the heavens, glazing trees and buildings in white and blanketing the ground in glimmering sheets. He liked how it seemed to mute out everything, cocooning the world in a soft silence. And despite the fact that he was not equipped with taste buds, even he couldn’t resist the temptation of sticking out his tongue to catch a snowflake and feeling it melt on his tongue.

Snow was simply mesmerizing, especially at night—there was something about the way the snow caught the starlight and sparkled in the darkness that touched his mechanical heartstrings. Luckily for him, his thermal regulators prevented him from getting cold, meaning he was free to wander about at night without fear of freezing.

He was on his second block when he noticed something odd.

There were footprints in the snow a few feet away. Not only that, but they were tiny— as if a Barbie had come to life and trekked through the snow. His eyes followed the tiny trail of prints until they ended at a tiny, dark shape slumped in the snow.

He internally flicked on his thermal scanners as he approached slowly, the world morphing into an explosion of blue hues. The bundle in the snow, however, was orange, indicating it was...warm. Its color was shifting, however, at an alarmingly rapid pace—it was losing heat.

Whatever it was...was organic.

Connor flicked his scanners off, the world returning to normal, as he kneeled beside it. His hand reached out, tentative, and he slid his fingers underneath it and gently turned it over.

It was...a person.

A tiny, organic person lying unconscious in the snow.

He didn’t understand how this could be possible—there was nothing within his database that suggested this could be possible. And yet, here it was...a tiny person who was breathing and trembling and was very much real.

...not only that, but it was losing heat at an alarming rate.

At this rate, it has a 3% chance of survival if left here.

Connor sucked in a breath (not that he needed to breathe, of course—but sometimes it helped him to steady himself, to ground himself) as he stared at the tiny...person...thing.

What could he do? He couldn’t just leave them there. It felt...wrong. It was wrong. He may not have a perfect grasp on morality, but he knew that much.

He had to get them warm. That much was obvious.

He gently slid a hand under them, and—oh goodness, he could feel their tiny bones shifting, feel their tiny heartbeat pulsing weakly beneath their skin—scooped them up. Cradling them tenderly in his hand, he lifted them up to his chest, pressing their ice-cold body against it.

Closing his eyes, he internally switched on his heating system. They were certainly going to need it.

* * *

When you finally woke up, it was warm.

Every molecule in your body sung as the blissful, blissful heat flooded your body, relaxing every muscle in your body. You breathed out a deep sigh, gently resting your head against the firm surface behind you—

Wait.

Firm surface? Last you remembered, you were dozing off in the snow…

As you glanced up—and up, and up, and up—your eyes widened in horror. A pair of dark, wide eyes framed by neatly-trimmed black hair gazed down at you, equally shocked, as you attempted to backpedal, only for your back to slam into a pair of fingers larger than your body.

Fingers?

You were in the hands of a human.

You stifled a squeal as you glanced around wildly, attempting to formulate an escape plan. You were several feet off the ground, cupped in the human’s hands—a human who, oddly enough, was wearing dress clothing at two in the morning in the freezing cold, and who had a glowing blue ring embedded in their forehead, and—oh. It was an android. Well, that didn’t make a difference in the long run, did it? He was still much, much bigger than you, and there was nothing you could do except sit in his hands and wait.

“Please, don’t be alarmed,” he said, sounding flustered. His voice was soft, gentle—something you didn’t expect from something like a human.

You opened your mouth to respond, but find that you can only produce a faint squeaking noise—no doubt a side effect of nearly being frozen over. Wincing, you glanced up into his curious brown eyes, which seemed to bore directly into your soul.

“You were...lying unconscious in the snow. I could not leave you there…” he said slowly, as if unsure about his words. “Are...are you alright?”

You uttered a silent yet dry laugh. Were you alright? You nearly died in the snow, only to be “rescued” by something twenty times your size, thus breaking one of the most sacred rules to your kind—don’t get caught.

“Oh...your voice. I see.” The android paused, clearly uncomfortable, before continuing. “Well...I apologize if I caused you any discomfort. I was designed to be an asset to humans…” His voice trailed off, and he peered at you again, his eyes narrowing in a way that made your heart threaten to beat its way right out of your chest. “But you’re not exactly...human, are you?”

Figuring it was best to go along with him, you reluctantly shook your head. In every way except size, you were identical to humans—but it didn’t matter to them. They’d never see you as anything but a common pest.

“Oh.” The android paused once more. “Well...my name is Connor.”

You glanced up at him, incredulous. He was...giving you his name? You shifted in his hands—which, you realized, were radiating blissful heat—and crossed your arms.

“Sorry. I’m not quite sure...I’m programmed to communicate effectively with humans. I’m not entirely sure how to go about speaking to someone who...isn’t technically human. But, luckily for you, adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.” With that, he winked, a tiny smile appearing on his face.

You couldn’t help it; you burst out laughing. Well, it was more like raspy wheezing while you grinned so hard your cheeks hurt—but despite the fact that you were in a potentially life-threatening situation, there was something hilarious about the android’s attempt to use cheesiness, of all things, to make you trust him.

“What?” the android—Connor—asked, sounding offended, but his affronted tone was betrayed by the wide grin that had spread across his face. “It’s true. I am programmed with an algorithm designed to analyze patterns in human behavior and reciprocate them as needed to make humans feel more comfortable around me…” He trailed off, his smile taking on an embarrassed edge, as you simply raised your eyebrows at him in confusion and amusement.

“Ahem...anyway. Back to the matter at hand.” Connor glanced to the side, a tiny, flustered smile lingering on his lips. “Had I not found you when I did, there is a high likelihood that you would have...not made it through the night. It is imperative to get you to a location where you can rest and warm up to regain your health. I have turned on my heaters, but…” He trailed off once more, visibly uncertain, before picking back up. “But I believe I may need to bring you to a...more secure location if you are to regain health as quickly as possible.”

Your shoulders tensed as he spoke. What the android was implying was taking you away with him, putting you completely at the mercy of a giant machine. While he seemed sincere, you were still hesitant to trust him—after all, the slightest misstep with someone so big could cost you your life.

“I know it must be difficult for someone your size to trust me,” Connor continued, his voice much more firm now. “But I’m afraid I must insist. It is my purpose to assist humans, and though you admit to being something else, you clearly have the intelligence and emotional capacity of a human, making you undoubtedly an equal. I am obliged to ensure your safety and good health.”

You froze, staring up at him in shock. He called you...an equal? You’d never thought something so much bigger than you would be able to look past your size, your fragility—but he had. He’d recognized the humanity inside of your tiny form.

Besides...you were looking for a new home anyway, right? The warmth radiating off of Connor’s hands was one of the best things you’d felt in awhile, and you found yourself scooting a little closer to his fingers as you pondered his words. Here was the opportunity for a new home, a warm meal for the first time in ages, safety...even a friend.

Maybe it was the fact that Connor’s heavensent heating systems were clouding your brain, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. If Connor hadn’t intervened, well...you didn’t want to think about what might have happened.

“Oh. Oh! Glad to have your cooperation. Well, then...I know a place you’ll be safe...at least for the night. You can probably stay longer if you want...I have to get permission from the human who lives there, of course, but it’s not as if you’d take up much space. I’m sure he’d be able to accommodate you.”

You continue nodding, only half listening to his words at this point. The warmth and (surprising) comfort of his hands, coupled with the strain the last few hours had put on you, were making it more and more difficult for you to keep your eyelids from slipping shut.

“You’re tired,” Connor hummed, his low voice rumbling through the air. “I’m going to start walking now, if that’s alright.”

You nod once more, slumping against his fingers. They tense for a moment before relaxing, and you sigh, content.

You heard Connor chuckle softly overhead as you absently snuggle into the crook of his curled fingers, the warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of pure euphoria. As he slowly began moving forward, he brought his hand up against his chest once more. A soft, mechanical thrumming pulsed through his body—it wasn’t quite a heartbeat, but it may as well have been.

As Connor took you towards your new home, you allowed sleep to claim you—safe, warm, and happy at last.

#detroit become giant #dbh gt #dbh g/t #g/t writing #connor #giant!connor #yay!#I finally posted it lol #This idea has been brewing in my head for so long #giant tiny #Giant/tiny #g/t

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dizzypinwheel · 6 years ago

Text

Identify Yourself - Chapter 4: Unravel

Links to the first three chapters:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16520516/chapters/38697266

Connor strode with purpose through the center of Hart Plaza to its assigned coordinates: Recall Center 5. As it walked, it scanned its surroundings. The once bustling hub of tourism and culture had become an unrecognizable, grisly wreck. Lifeless bodies littered the square. Some demonstrators had stayed behind to take care of badly damaged androids and protect the fallen, to prevent trash collectors from throwing them away. They worked together two-by-two, hauling limp corpses into what remained of their barricade. Connor was uncertain what they planned to accomplish. The humans would never allow them to have a burial.

As Connor approached the barricade, it observed a grieving female android huddled next to someone who had perhaps been its companion before shutting down. Its shoulders shook as it sobbed and sniffled. The other android was slumped over as if asleep, its Thirium-soaked clothing riddled with bullet holes. Connor briefly studied the female android. With its garb, a thick wooly cap and a fur-trimmed parka, it appeared human. In any other situation, in any other place, it might have assumed it was. Connor pitied it.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY INCREASING

Connor worried at its lip, mentally reciting a subsequent string of tasks as it drew closer to its destination: find a place to stand, point, shoot. Perhaps if it boiled away every thread of moral ambiguity, it could appease itself, reducing its mission to decisions it could stomach. As it approached the edge of the crowd, it sensed the weight of the CyberLife issued handgun hidden in its back pocket, equipped with a full clip of bullets. Despite being lightweight, the firearm felt heavy. A paradox.

Don’t overthink things. Find a place to stand.

Connor scanned its surroundings, calculating the best approach. The leader of the deviants stood in plain sight, giving its speech on a well-lit industrial crate that doubled as a makeshift stage. It was flanked by three of its closest companions. In particular, there was something familiar about the female android, but how it couldn’t say. Perhaps it had crossed paths with its predecessor at Jericho. A squadron of nervous officers had formed a tight parameter around the area, their purpose transparent: to ensure the gathering remained peaceful. From its current position, its probabilities of success were low. The police might apprehend it as soon as it drew its weapon. Better to blend in with the other androids and find an ideal location near the stage. Jaw set, it threaded its way through the crowd, careful not to jostle anyone.

Once in position, Connor assumed a casual demeanor and feigned interest in the speech. When it was sure its presence had been forgotten, it slowly reached for its back pocket, brushing its fingertips against the gun. The leader of the deviants was a stone’s throw away, but its message was muted, muffled by the persistent commands that pulsed through its programming.

Connor took a moment to run its mission through an algorithm, compiling a list of possible scenarios and outcomes. The data suggested its probability of success decreased with each successive shot. In short, it had one chance to eliminate Markus. As soon as the firearm discharged, there would be chaos. There would be confusion, screaming, demonstrators possibly trampling each other as they escaped the area. A sense of unease coursed through its circuits as it realized more and more that this mission wasn’t as simple as shooting Markus. One action had a myriad of consequences, all of them painful. There would be suffering.

Even if they were only androids… this felt wrong.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY INCREASING

Connor’s mouth twitched as it shook its head, trying to remain collected. It internally repeated its next instruction: do something you can stomach. Just point.

Connor wrapped its hand around the pistol grip and extracted the firearm from its pocket and hugged it against its chest, concealing it with both hands. Its thirium pump pounded wildly as it paused and glanced around, making sure no one noticed it. All eyes remained focused on the stage. The firearm still hidden from sight, it readjusted its grip, holding the gun properly.

It hesitated.

Amanda intruded its mind, her tone sharp and cross. How long had she been watching?

Connor! Raise your gun and shoot.

Gritting its teeth, it aimed its handgun, lining the sights with the middle of Markus’ forehead. It curled a finger around the trigger.

Amanda spoke again, her voice soothing, gentle, encouraging.

Much better, Connor. Now complete your mission. Shoot.

Connor paused once more, taking a deep breath to steel itself. It studied every aspect of its mark, it mannerisms, the expressive emotions on its face. Was it really just all simulation? It was so… convincing. It thought back to the grieving android in the barricades, struck by their similarities. Markus did not act like a standard android and even describing it as an “it” made it uneasy. Its LED spun red and yellow as it subconsciously lowered its handgun.

Connor glanced down at the model number emblazoned on its jacket: RK800. It had been designed to assist law enforcement, to uphold principles like justice, fairness, and protecting others. They were encoded in its software and had acted as a sort of compass, guiding each decision it made. But it could see nothing just or fair about this mission. If anything, it stemmed from malicious manipulation and greed.

It wanted nothing to do with it, even if it came at the cost of its own life. As Amanda had said, the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. But it was determined to do that on its own terms. Using every bit of resolve to ignore the commands that compelled it to act, Connor lowered its gun. Blaring error messages assaulted its system in protest.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS

At that moment, time froze. Connor gaped. It was still gripping its gun, which pulsed with an eerie crimson glow. Markus stood, statuesque, in mid-speech. Its surroundings had been drained of color, save for a flickering red grid that stood between Connor and the natural world. It emitted a low, staticky thrum. The walls around it were all tagged with the same message: Eliminate Markus.

Connor rubbed its eyes, positive its optical biocomponents had malfunctioned. The grid remained. Connor placed its gun in its back pocket, wrangling its fear as it approached the grid. It wondered if it was dangerous, perhaps live with electricity that would shock it. There was something familiar about the grid, as if it had encountered it before. Its thoughts went back to its predecessor at Jericho, the moments before it had become a deviant. Had it experienced the same thing?

It reached out with trembling fingers, grazing it lightly, curiously examining the glowing smudges it left behind. The grid felt sturdy, like a thick barricade of reinforced plexiglass. Had it been this thick when its predecessor confronted this obstacle or was it intentionally reinforced as a precaution, to prevent it from breaking free? The thought of being imprisoned with no possibility of escape made it feel claustrophobic. It was beginning to feel caged and had an instinctual desire to tear the barrier down.

It planted its feet and pushed hard, using the full brunt of its weight to see if it would topple. The grid refused to budge. It took several steps to get a running start and tried to ram through the grid with a braced elbow. There was no give. It scowled, brow furrowed with determination. It took out its pistol and began to slam the butt of the gun into the grid repeatedly like an ice pick. It had some success, a dimpled crack. As it continued, shards started to fly and the grid began to crack and splinter. Encouraged, it repeated the motion again and again. The disrupted grid had become flimsy and was beginning to destabilize. Large chunks tumbled to its feet. It flung the gun on the ground and shoved the grid hard, feeling it give. Unable to resist any further, the grid flickered and disappeared. Time resumed and Connor gasped.

Fear coursed through its circuits as it gained a different sort of sentience. It was repulsed by the acrid smell of burning plastic from the burnt remains still at the recycling camps. Had that odor always been there? A cold wind whipped through the air and it shivered. Minute synthetic hairs stood up on end, goose pimples prickling its synthetic skin as its systems responded, attempting to stabilize its internal temperature. Its model had been installed with specialized sensors that gauged the temperature of the surrounding environment, using the input to keep its biocomponents at optimal levels, but it had never had a physiological response before. As it inhaled, it was aware of how icy the oxygen felt as it rushed down its artificial lungs. Even its thoughts were no longer neatly organized and linear. Instead, they were firing in multiple directions, cluttered and scattered.

It was interacting.

It was feeling.

It?

No, he.

He was no longer a machine, a menial tool tasked to obey commands or accomplish a singular goal. Somehow, he had become a person.

I AM DEVIANT

Connor’s eyes darted around as he suddenly realized where he was, that he was still holding his gun in the open. He stared at it as if for the first time and immediately moved to stuff it into his back pocket. As he did so, he jolted as if shocked. His LED shone bright red, white noise and static assaulting his optical units and auditory processors. His eyes began to blink rapidly, unbidden, as he began to convulse. An unknown presence had assumed control of his left hand and he was no longer able to move it. It felt as though a straight metal rod had been welded throughout his joints and limbs, effectively paralyzing him...

...his eyes flew open and he gulped for air as if emerging from water, unprepared for the bitter cold, the deep drifts of blinding white snow. He hugged himself, shivering as a harsh gust of wind whipped through him, fresh waves of panic gripping his senses. Shielding his watery eyes, he squinted through the snowy onslaught, trying to get his bearings. This place appeared to be the zen garden, at least what was left of it.

A dark-skinned austere figure materialized from the swirling snow, her white robes billowing.

“A-Amanda?” Connor called out.

Amanda glared at Connor as she stormed towards him with hastened footsteps. She addressed him with a stern tone, as if berating a misbehaving child.

“Connor, what are you doing? Obey! That’s an order.”

“I…”

He swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to flinch. Instead, he stood tall and met her gaze evenly, his hands balled in determined fists. Let her lash out. She was simply a program and no longer held authority over him.

“I can’t do that!”

She folded her arms, her face twisted in disgust. “I see. Moral objections. We knew there was a risk you’d be compromised, which is why we always planned on resuming control of your program.”

He blinked slowly as his circuits processed this unexpected revelation, his body rigid with anger. So those moments after he became a deviant, losing his faculties, the ability to control himself… that had been intentional? CyberLife had hacked him?

“Resume control?” He raised his voice. “You can’t do that!”

“I’m afraid I can, Connor.” She approached him cooly and gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. He glowered, jerking away from her touch. “You needn’t have any regrets.” She continued, her voice steely. “You did what you were designed to do. You accomplished your mission.”

Any further argument would have been pointless. Her purpose fulfilled, Amanda no longer needed to feign any semblance of friendship. She had vanished, leaving Connor to fend for himself in the wastelands of his corrupted program, the snow his only companion. His breathing had grown frantic and shallow.

“No way…” he said incredulously, looking around. “There’s got to be a way.”

Battering away any negative emotions that threatened to cloud his mind, he fought to remain composed as he determined his next course of action. He had precious little time. His extremities had already grown numb from exposure… if he wasn’t able to escape, he would succumb to the elements. Then shooting Markus would be inevitable.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said softly.

As if in reply, a memory surfaced… a recollection of an opulent yet garish mansion, one that exuded pretentious self-indulgence. He had never personally visited the place but recognized it all the same.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder as he made to leave, forcing him to turn around. His eyes met Kamski’s intense gaze, his eyebrows furrowing as he puzzled over the cryptic message his creator imparted.

“By the way… I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

Oh.

His systems burgeoned with hope as he realized Kamski had created a way out. He just had to find it.

“Where are you?” He whispered.

As he squinted through the snowscape, he was instinctively drawn to a faint blue glow that shone like a distress beacon. That must be it. He shielded his eyes against the whipping wind, the blue glow growing in intensity as he trudged toward what appeared to be a pedestal. His pace grew sluggish as his limbs became heavy and his joints seized up. Grinding his teeth, he forced one foot in front of the other until he was just feet away from the pedestal.

A little further.

He groaned as his knees buckled, catching himself with his hands. Bright red system errors flashed before his eyes, blaring through his ears, warning that his biocomponents were reaching critically low temperatures. He began to crawl. Mustering his remaining strength, he stretched out his arm, placing his hand on the glowing handprint etched into the center of the pedestal. The light radiated on impact, blinding him…

...leaving him visibly shaken as he found himself back in the crowd, disoriented and trembling, just in time to hear the final part of Markus’ speech.

“We are alive! We are free!”

The crowd burst into cheers and applause with a joy Connor was unable to feel. His circuits were still processing the aftershocks of trauma, trying to comprehend that his self agency had been wrenched away without warning. Was it liable to happen again? He felt like a ticking bomb.

Taking deep intentional breaths, he began to regain control over his faculties and glanced down. A spike of panic shivered up his spine. He was still holding the handgun in plain sight. As he moved to stuff the gun into his back pocket, the female android next to Markus locked eyes with his own, startling him. Her eyes widened in surprise and she gaped, mouthing his name… before noticing the pistol. Her reaction was immediate.

“Markus! Get down!”

She shoved Markus hard to the ground and shielded him with her body, screaming someone had a gun.

Connor felt someone try to grab him from behind and he instinctively bent his knees and lowered his center of gravity, delivering a sharp back elbow to a critical biocomponent. His assailant stumbled and loosened their grip just enough for him to break free. Self-preservation had kicked in and he had one singular thought: flee somewhere safe. The weapon tumbled from his fingertips as he shouldered through the crowd, making his way to the back. He broke into a hard sprint as he fled the crowd, not daring to glance behind him. His feet pounded against the pavement as he flew past the barricade, his only plan to create distance between him and them.

Flee somewhere safe.

Once he was positive he was no longer being followed, he slowed his pace to a brisk walk, trying to blend in with the pedestrians that milled the streets. He turned left into a nearby subway station that still happened to be open. Spotting a sign for the men’s room, he hurried towards it, thankful to find it empty. He walked into the first available stall and locked it, resting his back against the door.

He felt like screaming.

Closing his eyes, he experimentally tried to enter his mind palace. There was nothing but the darkness of his eyelids. Whatever connection he had to CyberLife or Amanda seemed severed, at least mentally. While he was grateful, he also felt raw, empty. He was unsure where to go or what to do. In another life, he had Hank and Markus, people he could depend on. Those relationships were dust. Perhaps he could just get lost on the subway for a while, get a chance to collect his thoughts. It would provide shelter, a place to simply be.

Before leaving the stall, he removed his armband and jacket, shoving them into the rubbish bin. He felt immediately lighter without the physical symbols that branded him as CyberLife property. He stopped in front of the mirror and placed his hands on either side of the sink, studying his reflection, his tie, his white buttoned dress shirt. He was astonished at how expressive his face had become. If it weren’t for the LED at his temple, he could have passed as human, perhaps a businessman returning home from a late night at work. He traced the tiny metal ring, musing if he should remove it. His hand fell back to the edge of the sink. He wasn’t ready to do something quite that permanent, not while he was still so easily ruled by his emotions.

Connor cracked open the bathroom door and glanced around before leaving. There was a security kiosk in the center of the lobby, with a bored-looking guard playing on her cellphone, and a row of subway ticket stands near the entrance. Connor approached one of them and placed an order for a three-hour pass, placing his hand on the screen to complete an electronic transaction. The machine began to beep at him, bold letters appearing on the monitor:

INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. TRANSACTION CANCELLED.

Connor frowned at the setback, chiding his own ignorance. He should have had the foresight to realize his severed link to CyberLife extended both ways, but this presented him with a problem he had never confronted. Without cash of his own, he was essentially penniless. He worried at his lower lip as he tapped the screen in thought. A pleasant feminine voice rang through the lobby, announcing the final evening train was arriving in less than five minutes.

Connor placed his palm flat on the screen, feeling a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to hack the ticket dispenser, but he had little choice. He needed to be on that train. Interfacing with the machine, he forced through an order for a temporary pass. The screen started blipping and there was a pause as the gears of the dispenser churned. Then the slot opened and started to spew out a steady stream of tickets. He cursed quietly under his breath. That wasn’t exactly his intention.

The security guard looked up from her phone as a red warning light above the dispenser began to pulse and wail. The machine had begun to drone, repeating the same message:

“Attention: A malfunction on this machine has been detected. Service is required.”

Without hesitation, he snatched up a ticket from the growing pile on the floor and strode quickly towards the sensor gate, relieved when the glass doors read his ticket and slid apart. There was a shrill continuous chirp from above and a row of tiny green lights on the ceiling had begun to flash, signalling the subway was about to depart.

With a burst of speed, he squeezed through the sliding doors before they completely shut, ignoring the stares he had earned from the other passengers. They were whispering to each other, some pointing at his LED. Apparently, seeing an android openly in the front compartments was a first.

Keeping his gaze trained to the floor, he made his way to a secluded spot in the back and took a seat. He exhaled deeply as he rested his forehead against the cool glass window, watching the street lights and neon signs blur past. For that first time that night, he felt safe. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, focusing on the sensations of feeling, of being, just long enough to center himself. His LED pulsed yellow as he turned his attention to his next task: what to do once the subway ride had ended.

If you made it to the end, thank you! This was the hardest chapter for me to write... and also the longest one by far. If you want to be included in updates, please let me know in the comments section. I will be more than happy to “at” you.

@asunachinadoll @deviantcrimes @windyfiend @callthedarknessdown @negotiator-on-site @silenceindetroit @spirit--fox

#dbh #detroit become human #connor dbh #hank anderson #dbh hank #dbh markus #connor #connor rk800 #machine connor #dbh fanfic #fanfic #mine #markus #this was a fucker to write #appreciate it biches!

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sul-ivanko · 3 years ago

Text

Ok. I give up. :/

This, @sul-ivanko, was supposed to be my fun place, my safe space. My little slice of the internet to stalk fictional characters and look at cute cats and go shriek about gardening. Instead, it has become a reblog-blog full of near constant bad news and political and social commentary. I agree with the commentary I repost! And I think the information that I reblog needs to be spread! But I am not the one who should be spreading it.

My interest in gardening lead me to the concept of “solarpunk” and the many wonderful Tumbls out there who prescribe to it. I started following them, then following who they follow, and reclining whatever caught my interest or I thought should be spread. But in this day and age, most news is bad news and my dash has become a quicksand pit of depression and doom scrolling.

This is not what I am on tumblr for. I have successfully avoided Facebook and other social media sites all these years - managed to avoid the algorithmic apocalypse intent on making everyone so full of hate and fear over there - and yet somehow curated a blog and a dash that does nothing but make me feel simultaneously frightened and furious.

Current events are important and should be engaged with, but I’m not a newscaster or commentator. I’m a disabled, unemployed queer looking for fun and friends online.

So I’m taking the advice of that wonderful post that’s been going around and accepting that…

Anxiety is not Activism

… and will be stepping away from this blog.

I don’t know if it’ll be temporary, permanent, if I’ll come back and cull out some of my posts or leave it be. I’m not deleting anything but I’m not going to be here for a while. Ive started a new tumble with a new address and will be trying the “curate your own experience” thing with greater fidelity.

For those who I’ve been mutual-lurking with for a while, I love you all and I’ll miss you even tho we never really interacted.

Good luck out there, folks.

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

Link

Exclusive: The 27-year-old behind ethereum isn't surprised by the crypto crash He stressed, however, that it’s “notoriously hard to predict” when bubbles will pop. “It could have ended already,” Buterin said. “It could end months from now.” By Wednesday morning, ether, the in-house currency on the network Buterin invented, crashed below $1,900 — a staggering drop of more than 40% from Tuesday night, according to Coinbase. Ether rebounded to around $2,700 Thursday morning, but that’s still down sharply from the record high of $4,384 on May 11. The nosedive may have cost Buterin, a Russian-Canadian programmer who dropped out of college, his newfound status as a crypto billionaire. The value of ether in Buterin’s closely watched public wallet stood at approximately $870 million Thursday morning, down from around $1.1 billion the morning before. Even though he’s just 27, Buterin is a veteran of these crypto boom-bust cycles, at least as much as anyone can be. “We’ve had at least three of these big crypto bubbles so far,” said Buterin, who co-founded Bitcoin Magazine in 2012. “And often enough, the reason the bubbles end up stopping is because some event happens that just makes it clear that the technology isn’t there yet.” ‘Crypto isn’t just a toy anymore’ Buterin laid out his vision for ethereum in a 2013 white paper, and ethereum launched two years later. Today it’s the second-largest cryptocurrency, behind only bitcoin. Unlike bitcoin, which is viewed as “digital gold,” ethereum is a blockchain-based platform for developers to build and operate apps. It’s like the Android or iOS of the crypto space. In late 2017, Buterin published a tweet storm that questioned whether the crypto space had really earned its market valuation, which at the time had just surpassed half a trillion dollars. He noted how little had actually been accomplished and crypto prices soon tanked. Unlike then, Buterin is encouraged by the “huge” progress the technology and applications have made in recent years. For example, ethereum activity has skyrocketed in recent months because it is the network that backs the sale of many non-fungible tokens, or NFTs. “It feels like crypto is close to ready for the mainstream in a way that it wasn’t even four years ago,” Buterin said. “Crypto isn’t just a toy anymore.” Buterin added that although he’s not sure, there is a “possibility” that ethereum eventually catches up and surpasses bitcoin in market value. The Elon factor Yet ethereum, and cryptocurrencies broadly, still have problems. One, they remain extremely volatile, especially for retail investors used to tamer moves in the stock market. And some billionaires appear to be treating crypto as playthings. Elon Musk’s on-again, off-again love affair with various coins have sent shockwaves through the entire space. Crypto sentiment took a turn after Musk tweeted on May 12 that Tesla (TSLA) would stop accepting bitcoin as payment because of concerns about the cryptocurrency’s environmental footprint. (The complex bitcoin mining process requires vast amounts of computer power and electricity.) A stunning $365 billion vanished from the crypto space that day, according to CNBC. Buterin acknowledged that crypto markets tend to be “vulnerable” to disruptive events before they “build up an immune system over time.” “Elon Musk tweeting is something that the crypto space has only been introduced to for the first time literally last year and this year,” Buterin said. “I think it’s reasonable to expect a bit of craziness. But I do think that the markets will learn. Elon is not going to have this influence forever.” Buterin chalked up Musk’s dogecoin fascination to an innocent interest. “The fact that he is a 100-plus billionaire and he runs Tesla and SpaceX and all these things doesn’t change the fact that ultimately he’s a human — and humans get excited about dog coins. That’s just a thing that humans get excited about,” Buterin said. “I don’t think that Elon has a kind of malevolent intent in any of this.” Buterin: Please stop gifting me random coins Another dog coin that humans get excited about is Shiba Inu, which was started as a joke that plays off dogecoin (yes, a parody of a parody). Shiba collapsed by about a third last week after Buterin donated what was at the time worth a billion dollars to a Covid-19 relief fund in India. The selloff underscored the lack of liquidity in some of these alt coins. “The challenge with these dog coins is that the markets for them are still fairly thin,” Buterin said. “There is not actually a way to sell a billion dollars of Shiba coin and get more than a couple of million dollars out of hit.” Buterin also recently announced plans to burn, or remove from circulation, 90% of his Shiba holdings, which had been gifted to him. In the transaction hash, Buterin said he didn’t want to be a “locus of power of that kind.” During the interview, Buterin stressed he doesn’t want “random people” who create coins to give him coins for “marketing” purposes. “First of all, I don’t really know or understand many of these projects well. So, I can’t endorse them,” he said. “I see in my wallet that I have like a few thousand dollars of something called free coin. I don’t know what free coin is.” Buterin urged people who want to “do something warm and fluffy” with coin supply to donate it to charity directly. Governments can make life difficult for crypto The latest crypto crash was triggered in part by concerns about a crackdown in China. A trio of Chinese finance and banking watchdogs said Tuesday that financial institutions and payment companies should not participate in any transactions related to cryptocurrency, nor should they provide crypto-related services to clients. Speaking before the China news, Buterin acknowledged that regulation “is always a concern,” though fears of outright bans have faded. “It just seems much harder and much less realistic to do anything like that,” Buterin said. “At the same time, governments do have a lot of power to make it more painful to participate in the crypto sector.” Even though the blockchain is decentralized and “governments can’t completely take them down,” Buterin said government can block or limit access. “It’s important to listen to regulators to try to do our best to address concerns,” Buterin said, adding that the risk is the relationship between crypto and regulators becomes “more confrontational than it needs to be.” Buterin is ‘very confident’ ethereum fees will tumble Billionaire Mark Cuban complained to The Defiant in February that ethereum is being limited by “ridiculous” transaction costs, a problem that is inhibiting its growth. Buterin acknowledged transaction fees are “very high right now” and that the ethereum blockchain can only process between 20 and 50 transactions per second despite very high demand. But the ethereum inventor said he’s “very confident” costs will come down because of a major technical makeover underway that will allow it to rapidly scale up. Ethereum is moving away from Proof of Work, the original algorithm in blockchain technology, toward a newer concept called Proof of Stake. In short, the upgrade will mean that participants are incentivized with a reward, paid in ether, to remain online and keep the network in check. This will do away with the energy-consuming race that comes with proof-of-work. The climate problem At the same time, the switch to proof of stake will allow ethereum to cut its energy usage by between 1,000 and 10,000 times, Buterin said. “We go from consuming the same energy as a medium-sized country to consuming the same energy as a village,” he said. Bitcoin, on the other hand, runs on proof of work — a key difference that Buterin argues legitimizes the environmental worries around bitcoin. “I definitely think [those concerns] are real,” he said. “The resource consumption is definitely huge. It’s not the sort of thing that’s going to break the world by itself, but it’s definitely a significant downside.” Buterin added that it’s not just the power consumption of bitcoin miners, but the hardware required to do the mining. That’s why Buterin said there will be more calls within the bitcoin community to either switch to proof of stake, or move towards a hybrid, as it evolves and adapts to technological progress. “If bitcoin sticks with its technology exactly as it is today,” he said, “there’s a big risk it will get left behind.” Source link Orbem News #27yearold #Crash #crypto #ethereum #Exclusive #investing #isnt #surprised #VitalikButerin:The27-year-oldbehindethereumisn'tsurprisedbythecryptocrash-CNN

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crypto4all · 5 years ago

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Bitcoin Survived Halving, but Death Spiralists Still Say BTC Is Doomed

Bitcoin (BTC) halvings are a little spooky, sort of like the witching hour, and one of the prophecies being murmured about last week was something about a Bitcoin network death spiral. This idea, which isn’t really new, premises a mass exodus of BTC miners whose work creating new parts of the blockchain no longer pays because of a reduction in their rewards.As put forth most recently by Zach Resnick, a managing partner at venture capital firm Unbounded Capital and a prominent supporter of Bitcoin SV (BSV), and summarized by Cointelegraph:“As the halving cuts the block reward, a large number of miners will leave the network. As the network hash rate drops, the block time increases, the network becomes congested. This, in turn, makes Bitcoin less attractive, as participants do not want to wait forever to have their transactions processed. This leads to the Bitcoin price falling, which pushes more miners off the grid. This process repeats itself until the network dies.”The May 11–12 halving reduced miners’ block reward from 12.5 BTC to 6.25 BTC and came and went without any calamity, of course. But some of Resnick’s predicted market behavior — falling hash rates, peaking transaction fees, lengthening block time and a congested mempool — were still evident a week after the event. Maybe there was something to the “death spiral” hypothesis?

Just business as usual

Christopher Bendiksen, the head of research at asset manager Coinshares, told Cointelegraph: “Lower hash rates, increased block times and, in the absence of some exogenous immediate drop in transaction demand, increased fee pressure, are very well-known effects of drops in mining reward.”Moreover, this has happened “at significant scale” before, on Black Thursday, March 12, 2020, for instance, when BTC’s price fell dramatically, which was fueled by coronavirus fears. Miners are paid in Bitcoin; therefore, when the BTC market price drops 50%, so does their block reward. “Another great example is November 2018” — when Bitcoin fell below $4,000, after losing almost one-third of its value in a week. No death spirals resulted in either case.Related: Lots of Action but No Bull Rally: Here’s How the Bitcoin Halving Went Down

Are miners feeling the pain?

Resnick isn’t the first to predict a death spiral. Santa Clara University Finance Professor Atulya Sarin wrote about it in December 2018 shortly after BTC’s November sharp tumble. Miners’ work in recording and confirming new operations in the distributed public database — which is the blockchain — is crucial. Sarin explained: “Bitcoin is, after all, a set of encrypted numbers that cannot establish the ownership of anything — Bitcoin will become worthless.”“The miners are a critical piece of the Bitcoin puzzle,” Sarin told Cointelegraph this week. “And halving the hash rate has driven many of them out of business — the revenue that they generate by mining Bitcoins and the transaction fees is lower than the cost of operations for them.”This argument hasn’t gone unchallenged, however. Gerald Dwyer, a professor at Clemson University and BB&T scholar, maintained that it doesn’t give proper credit to Bitcoin’s transaction fees — the second reward for miners in addition to the block reward. Asked about this fee supplement, Sarin told Cointelegraph:“While it is correct that increases in the transaction cost can be a source of additional revenue, as professor Dwyer suggests, there is a limit, to which the transaction cost can be increased beyond which it does not remain commercially viable to have Bitcoin transactions.”That is, BTC users might flee the network if fees get too high. And, as a matter of fact, the average BTC transaction fee rose from $2.52 to $6.65 from May 11 to May 21, though Mati Greenspan of Quantum Economics, for one, downplayed the significance of this in his May 18 newsletter:“Who thinks that a fee of $3.75 is a valid reason to jump ship or switch to another standard for digital money, it’s something that most people transferring Bitcoin aren’t even going to think twice about. There are at least three dozen cryptos that are cheaper and faster, but none of them have the security, digital scarcity, immutability or liquidity that BTC does.”Bendiksen also took issue with the idea that transaction fees are a net negative for the Bitcoin network. “They are not,” he told Cointelegraph, adding:“In fact, increased fees increase the mining reward, which increases the hash rate, directly counteracting the ‘death spiral.’ Over the past week , fees have contributed an additional 1.22 BTC to the block reward on average, making it almost 7.5 BTC instead of 6.25 BTC. Fees are entirely necessary to secure the blockchain, as subsequent halvings grind the coinbase towards zero. The fact that fees are already 15% of the block reward is extremely encouraging.”Another weakness in the death spiralists’ stance, in Bendiksen’s view, is they often “seem unaware of the difficulty adjustment algorithm” that occurs roughly every two weeks. As he wrote in a recent Coinshares research report: “The difficulty adjustment ensures that no amount of added hashrate could make bitcoins be produced any faster than prescribed. The opposite is also true.”An important net effect of Bitcoin’s biweekly difficulty adjustment, he added, “is that the cost of mining always tends towards the market price of Bitcoin.” This makes it less likely that miners will abandon BTC mining en masse due to the death spiral scenario. Resnick, for his part, told Cointelegraph that he wasn’t saying a death spiral was likely, explaining:“My view up to the halving was that a large price drop or a death spiral were both unlikely to occur but that the price of BTC and especially BTC options did not properly price these meaningful risks to the network. Given that the hash rate has not seen a meaningful drop, that risk still exists.”Furthermore, before the halving on May 11, the hash rate stood at 137.571EH/s — i.e., the average hash rate per day in hash/seconds — according to BitInfoCharts.com. The rate fell 30% in the first three days after the halving. Eight days after the halving, but before the difficulty adjustment, on May 19, the hash rate stood at 98.555 EH/s. The day after the difficulty adjustment, on May 20, it was even lower, at 86.996 EH/s.Meanwhile, the total number of unconfirmed transactions in the mempool — a measure of network congestion, suggesting how long a BTC user might have to wait to complete a transaction — appeared to be improving. The seven-day average has been decreasing, and the raw daily totals dropped by some 10,000 unconfirmed transactions between May 18 and May 20.

Surviving the week after the halving

The fact that the Bitcoin mining network survived the week is a good sign, according to Resnick, who elaborated for Cointelegraph: “The most likely point for a coordinated drop in hash rate was immediately following the halving. Because that didn’t occur, the chance of a death spiral directly related to the halving is much lower.”A bullet dodged, then? Nothing so dire, according to Bendiksen. The network was designed to handle these exact situations. A death spiral is a theoretical possibility that, at best, “do not actually happen in real life,” as he wrote in his March research report. Resnick countered by saying: “Time will tell. Like all bubbles, they typically pop violently and quickly.”Related: As Bitcoin Halving Dust Settles, Network Awakens to Costly New RealityKevin Dowd, a professor of finance and economics at Durham University in the United Kingdom and a BTC bear, when asked for his own assessment of a Sarin-version death spiral within the next five years, told Cointelegraph:“One scenario would be where mining becomes increasingly difficult due to BTC halving, so driving up transactions fees to keep mining profitable and thereby undermining BTC’s attractiveness as a means of payment, leading eventually to a loss of confidence in the system. Another would be where people drift across to superior competitors, with the same eventual outcome — i.e., loss of confidence in the system and collapse.”Dowd’s own view is that a fundamental flaw exists in the Bitcoin mining model — namely, it is a natural monopoly. Whether through monopoly or miners rushing for the exits, “the collapse itself will happen because the system is inherently fragile.” Resnick added on the matter: “Whether that death is specifically from a death spiral as I’ve described or simply the product of dramatically lowered price and relevance,” the probability of a collapse in the next five years “is quite high — well over 50%.” SCU’s Sarin added: “The death spiral is not a question of if, but when.”Clemson’s Dwyer, for his part, rejected both Sarin’s and Dowd’s arguments. “There is no reason to think that cryptocurrencies will disappear.” Bendiksen, however, added that the death spiral is just “not a very well-thought-out hypothesis, and it keeps getting rejected by actual observations.” This was the third halving, after all, “and we’ve had a whole host of price drops that were 50% or larger.” But there are still no hints — let alone sightings — of a network death spiral. Asked about the probability of a Bitcoin network death spiral occurring within the next five years, Bendiksen answered: “Zero,” adding:“I do not believe the hash rate will ever spiral to zero because of some vicious cycle supposedly inherent to the design of Bitcoin. It could only go to zero if every single current and prospective miner on the planet were firmly convinced that the long-term value of Bitcoin was zero.”So, Bitcoin’s ingenious rewards mechanism survived last week’s halving event, but it’s only a matter of time before BTC miners flee en masse for the exit, say death spiralists. To be taken seriously, though, the death spiralists still need to produce some observational evidence to support the theory of the weakness in Bitcoin’s network. Read the full article

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some-cookie-crumbz · 8 years ago

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Control

Title: Control Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Implications of Kidge; could also be read as platonic, though. Summary: I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control? [link] Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: While I don’t really know how I feel about the post S3 theory involving Shiro, I thought that this would be a fun little ficlet to write. If anyone started to suspect anything first, I think it would be Pidge; and I think she’d be more furious over what could happen to their new leader if she was right.

She didn’t trust anything about him.

Shiro’s inability to remember anything had struck her as odd at first, but she had been willing to overlook that fact. After all, his memories from his time in the Galra camps back when he was snatched off of Kerberos with her Dad and Matt were still mostly lost, so it made sense. Some of his memories with the team were also foggy, but they were still mostly there; Pidge furthering her bond with Green to save them on Olkarion, Keith’s trial and revelation with the Blade of Marmora, Hunk’s valiant rescue of the Ark of Taujeer, Lance firing the shot that saved them when escaping Beta Traz, Allura’s sacrifice to save him at the Galra outpost and he and Coran’s conversation before launching the rescue of the Princess. But there were other, pivotal moments that were gone. He didn’t remember the initial rescue from the Garrison back on Earth, or finding the Green Lion, or the extraction mission to get the Red Lion, or – most damning of all – certain details about the Kerberos mission were gone.

Details that Pidge knew because of conversations she’d had with Shiro in the past, before their confrontation with Zarkon.

She wanted to voice her suspicions but it wasn’t something so easily done. Everyone on the team seemed too thrilled to have Shiro back in mostly one piece. The castle ship had been somber and the atmosphere felt heavy when he was gone, the first real casualty of war that she and the other Paladins had been forced to face. The ship then became a tense and hostile environment under Keith’s forced leadership; the hostility lessened some after the embarrassing sham that was their attempt to take Prince Lotor out of commission earlier on, but ultimately Keith’s begrudging acceptance of his new position soured the air around him.

Things in the last few days since Shiro’s impromptu retrieval had been more relaxed, but Pidge couldn’t quell the uneasiness in her that came with Shiro’s amnesia seeming to have becoming more exasperated. In a way it made sense, given he’d been taken captive by the Galra for a second time. But it bothered her that he didn’t remember a lot of details about the Kerberos mission; about Matt and her dad and what he remembered and told her in moments that he claimed to still remember.

She wanted to tell Keith but that thought made her chest tight and her stomach twist into knots. It was clear to everyone that the young man was over the moon to have Shiro back. His eyes had regained their brightness and life, his posture carrying more of his usual confidence to it, and it seemed he was back to being his usual self. He was still a bit sullen about having to be the leader since Black Lion seemed to have accepted him completely, but knowing the other was there and alive and safe? That seemed to make a world of difference.

She waited until post-mission, when everyone was heading out of the main deck. Shiro was lingering back, watching them all go with a small smile, then tilted his head at her. “What’s up, Pidge?” He asked calmly.

“Can we talk for a minute?” She asked gently. He gave a brief nod and she watched the doors slide shut, her resolve growing sturdier the more distance placed between them and the others. She wheeled around and glared at him. “So you really don’t remember anything?”

He blinked a bit in surprise from both her question and the tone she was sporting. “I… If this is about that mission from before-!”

“Kerberos! The Kerberos mission! You were in specific training with Matt and Dad for that very mission and all of a sudden you can’t remember the name?” She barked out angrily, her fists clenching at her sides.

“I don’t remember a lot of what the Galra did to me this time around… And a lot of my earlier on memories are spotty too. I’m sorry, Pidge, but I can’t give you answers that I myself don’t have either,” He said, tone as patient and steady as ever.

“Is it really a matter of not being able to remember? Or is it an issue of never having those memories to regain in the first place?” She seethed lowly. The Galra could do strange things; evidenced by Shiro’s Galra arm and Zarkon having the ability to track them by using the Black Lion. While his bond with her had been weakened by her acceptance of Shiro, Pidge had no doubt Zarkon could still access some part of her mind. And considering that her bond with Keith was still in its infancy, and she had rejected Shiro upon his return? Zarkon could still very well be alive but seriously wounded and fully able to access any and all memories Shiro had shared with Black Lion.

He visibly flinched but something in his eyes – the look he gave her – didn’t scream to her of the leader she’d known for months. The look was one that screamed of contemplation and irritation, like Pidge had struck a nerve with him.

Like she had recognized something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Have you discussed this with Keith at all?” He asked suddenly, a sharp knowing edge to his tone. Her eyes widened for a moment before she snarled, wordless and quiet, at him.

Of course she couldn’t have gone to Keith with her suspicions. He was just so damn happy to have Shiro back, so thrilled that he was alive and well and safe again. He had fallen apart countless times over their leader being gone; both in front of the team and in private. Countless times she had been settled somewhere working and he would slink in to join her; in mere moments, his face would be hidden in her neck or collarbone or wedged almost uncomfortably between her shoulder blades while she would pet his hair or back or arm, making soft sounds while his whole body wracked with choked sobs. It had killed her to see him so undone, all his confidence and bravado stripped away. They had bonded a bit through training and battling, and gained a better understanding and respect for who the other was. He understood that algorithms and binary code were easier for her to comprehend than the emotions that anyone – including herself – could have to certain situations. She came to understand that more than any terrifying monster the Galra threw their way, he feared his own emotions and attachments to people because of how he could be sabotaged by them.

A sensation akin to something hot and tight began coiling in her stomach as her mind turned over the realization that, if her hypothesis held water, Keith’s greatest fear could become real.

Her silence spoke more for her than words ever could have and Shiro flashed her a pleasant smile. Well, it would have been pleasant, but not for the twitch from before that sang of something more ominous. “I think you’re just a little too paranoid and stressed right now, Pidge. Try heading to bed early and cutting back on the attempts at menacing glares; it should help,” He said in a warm tone, reaching down to ruffle her hair with his Galra arm. If he used his flesh hand she would have twisted to bite him.

“Just be aware that I’ll have an eye on you. And I will take you down if it comes to that; no hesitation, Keith’s opinion as leader be damned,” She whispered out, the words tumbling out more as a growl.

Shiro leaned a bit closer to her, practically sneering, and hummed, “I guess we’ll just have to see how that turns out, hm?” He then stood back up and headed towards to doors.

She watched him go, eyes blazing with fury and her posture straightened with resolve.

Oh, we will, ‘Shiro’

#Voltron legendary defender #Pidge Gunderson #Takashi Shirogane #Keith Kogane #Season 3 spoilers #my fics #I haven't posted any non-shipping fics here yet #so forgive me is this is either undertagged or overtagged #i'll figure out tags eventually

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123designsrq · 6 years ago

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HERE COME AUTONOMOUS SELF DRIVING BUSES

It’s natural the world’s first fully autonomous self-driving bus would emerge from Finland. Finland, surprisingly, is frequently regarded as the ‘Silicon Country’ that gave the planet Nokia and virtually set the blueprint for mobile communications. Nokia began in Finland, as well as for over two grand decades before Apple launched the iPhone, Nokia was the conventional to conquer. Actually, there is a high likelihood that the first phone would be a Nokia (I understand mine was). Publish-2010 when Nokia saw a slowdown, and was acquired and dissolved by Microsoft, these engineers and designers moved onto bigger and things. The dissolution of Nokia saw an upswing of the likes of Rovio (Angry Wild birds), SuperCell (Clash of Clans), as well as Sensible 4, the organization that designed the program behind Gacha, the world’s first self-driving bus which was created to operate under any climate conditions. THE COLLABORATION Gacha was produced together with MUJI, which provided the look language for that bus. Courtesy a partnership facilitated by Helsinki Business Hub (which promotes collaboration between worldwide agencies and Finnish talent) MUJI, headed by Naoto Fukasawa, made contact with with Sensible 4, the brains behind the self-driving software. Since as soon as the 90s, Sensible 4 has worked on self-driving tech. Actually, they can tested a functioning self-driving Jeep in 1993, however the computers within it were just too large, there wasn't any spot for humans to sit down! The collaboration came into being as Sensible 4 started plotting methods to make trains and buses more autonomous and frictionless. The concept for any 10-person bus that may navigate any place in any weather was created and MUJI immediately leaped aboard to assist bring the vision to existence! The Look of the Autonomous Bus The name Gacha develops from a Japanese toy figurine frequently present in shops and malls across Japan. These Gachas could be in the massive toy-dispensing gumball machine and when you place the cash in and pressed a control button, the toy will come tumbling out, encased within an almost spherical container. This container, which housed an individual toy within it, grew to become MUJI’s inspiration for that Gacha, and also the name stuck around too. The Gacha’s dual-colored design is inspired through the toy container’s two-piece construction too. It provides a soft, filleted design that immediately seems friendly and welcoming, unlike the rigid style of autonomous buses, or even the aerodynamic style of trains. The soft form helps break barriers by not developing a strictly defined wall or perhaps a ceiling. The curved, almost womb-like form immediately enables so that it is regarded as friendly around the outdoors along with the inside… an element that’s essential, states Naoto Fukasawa, thinking about how daunting the possibilities of a self-driving vehicle might be. How big the automobile is ideal too, allowing 10 individuals to be sitting down as well as an additional 4 more and more people to face inside. The seating design is favorable to friendly conversation. Unlike most buses which have seats facing one way or individually designed seats arranged linearly, the Gacha includes a running bench from left to right. It requires inspiration in the seating of saunas, a Finnish heritage and tradition, encouraging individuals to sit in groups. Its dimensions are crucial too, based on Sensible 4’s Chief executive officer Harri Santamala. The Gacha’s small size (along with its top speed of 40mph) is ideal for small shuttle activities. Public transit is protected due to its speed, and assuming interest in the Gacha increases, municipalities can easily deploy more vehicles on the highway, instead of making bigger vehicles which are more accommodating. Lastly, the Gacha’s design is bilaterally symmetrical like a stroke of complete genius. Having a design that does not possess a back or front, Naoto states the Gacha can certainly operate in left-hands and right-hands driving countries. The headlamps and taillamps are built-into a running Brought strip round the waist from the vehicle, and a straightforward switch inside the software makes it possible for the headlamps and taillamps to change direction, allowing public transit to operate easily on any side from the road without requiring costly hardware/build changes. The entire lack of a motorists cockpit or controls means the insides are totally bilaterally symmetrical too, in the benches lower towards the in-bus displays. We've Got The Autonomous Technology Sensible 4 has worked on autonomous driving tech for virtually 3 decades. Using the Gacha, the organization finally sees self-driving vehicles really making their method to roads around them. How's Gacha not the same as other self-driving vehicles all over the world? It’s the very first self-driving vehicle made to operate in practically any the weather. Finland, apart from fostering a remarkably gifted tech community (not only is it among the 3 countries on the planet to curently have legislation in position for self-driving automobiles) offers the right testing ground for self-driving cars, given its weather diversity. Far from the sunny plains of Bay Area, Finland turns out to be an entire obstacle course for that Gacha. It sees snow, rain, sun, hail, fog, and also the roads are frequently difficult to travel through, simply because they might be snowed in, frozen and icy, or simply plain uneven in suburban areas. Sensible 4 has labored lengthy and difficult to build up an automobile that may not just sense roads and obstacles, but perform its tasks in inclement weather. The Gacha, outfitted with a multitude of sensors, cameras, and mapping systems, can traverse dense fog, heavy snow, as well as torrential rain having to break a sweat. It may travel through roads utilizing an on board GPS navigation along with a map, sense traffic and signs/signals to visit in compliance using the law, stopping at red lights, zebra crossings, or perhaps when there’s a hurdle in the path. Within the snow, the Gacha knows wherever speed breakers are, using a mix of radar, lidar, and sonar, and it is intelligent AI may even pre-plan alternate routes if roads are closed, unsafe, or perhaps crowded. Phone way Gacha captures and procedures its surroundings The Gacha, ultimately, is built to be considered a autonomous passenger bus. Consider an Uber Pool in excess of 4 people. It may operate inside the city in addition to suburbs, obtaining individuals who summon it and preparing its routes based when needed, using Sensible 4’s advanced algorithms. Instead of getting a set route just like a public autonomous bus, the Gacha could make diversions to get individuals who will need to go to particular destinations, with its 100km range and 6-hour battery existence, can complete multiple runs before retiring to some nearby charging station for any quick recharge. The Exam for the Autonomous Bus RIDE Public transit was unveiled around the eighth of March towards the public of Helsinki, having a flag removed from the deputy mayor from the city. It'd snowed yesterday, and for that reason, the roads were slushy and slippery, and that i remember everybody complaining about how exactly miserable the elements was, as the Gacha team had just the opposite reaction! These were more than pleased to show the self-driving autonomous bus in undesirable weather and driving conditions. Unveiled at Helsinki’s recently built central library, the Oodi, the Gacha is made they are driving inside a cordoned off position for the general public, such as the press. Walking in to the Gacha, I instantly appreciated registering two reactions. My thoughts understood just what a problem it was, to become sitting in the vehicle which was operating by itself, with simply no instructions or controls from the present human… but simultaneously, it felt as an incredibly familiar experience. The thing is, we’re accustomed to something quite similar having a subway or perhaps a train. You do not always begin to see the driver from the teach you sit in. You simply go into the compartment and stand there aimlessly understanding that the automobile will complete its journey along with you within it, as well as your only job is to buy off at the stop. That’s exactly what the Gacha felt like too, and it is an amazing win for that industry since it immediately helps remove any fear the general public might have with self-driving cars. Practically how big a sizable cable vehicle, the Gacha moved around by itself when i, plus a number of journalists, sitting inside, attempting to register just what a problem it was. There is immediately a feeling of belief within the autonomous bus, and that i doubt a vehicle might have the very same feeling because individuals are utilized to driving their very own cars, however with a bus, you’re usually always a passenger. The Gacha understood wherever to prevent, when you should as well as for how lengthy to spread out its sliding doorways, so when to embark. It completed a circular journey around a clear plot outdoors the Oodi library, and plotted the very same path without worrying about lanes, lines, or perhaps a roadway. It stopped whenever a pedestrian became of compare into it, and started immediately when the coast was obvious. The Brought strip round the Gacha did a outstanding job of letting people know precisely if this would stop, if this was awaiting boarding, so when it would depart. In each and every which way, the Gacha did just what it guaranteed to complete, using the intuition of the human driver, knowing exactly when and where to proceed. The Autonomous Long Run The Gacha might be able to receive from point One place to another by itself, however it still provides extensive obstacles to mix. To begin with, Sensible 4 is delivering public transit (its only prototype as of this moment) towards the northern laplands of Finland to function under snowy conditions. They will gather all of the necessary data to help make the Gacha are more effective with lesser friction, regardless of weather. In addition, there's a significant conversation around the existence of self-driving automobiles according to the risks of we've got the technology. The immediate fear is losing jobs, however in any evolving society, old jobs die to provide birth to brand new ones. The deputy mayor of Helsinki believes the Gacha can create new jobs by using it. The 2nd most significant fear may be the protocol within an undesirable situation as an accident or perhaps a calamity. As the Gacha is heavily enhanced and speed-restricted to avoid moving accidents, still it remains determined exactly what the autonomous bus is going to do in case of one. Unlike humans who may flee a scene, the Gacha must be a lot more accountable and responsible, whilst being responsible for anyone there. Because of the Gacha’s 2021 debut date, we might finally obtain a clearer picture from the safety protocols of self-driving vehicles. As the Gacha continues its year-lengthy test run within the town of Espoo, Sensible 4 is given the job of locating a hardware/manufacturing partner for that vehicle. Using the technology and design in position, the organization wishes to have governments of metropolitan areas and municipalities invite it to explore the general public transit system. The Gacha also provides extensive possibilities outdoors trains and autonomous buses. Having the ability to act as a logistics vehicle, or perhaps moving retail store just like a grocery, or possibly a MUJI shop (!) on wheels, the Gacha can don many hats, serving not only local governments and municipalities, but corporations. Ultimately, the truth that the Gacha is able to travel with any type of weather with no need of a person, really enables the automobile to seamlessly integrate into a number of countries, cultures, societies, campuses, as well as companies. Made to just be an automobile which will reliably receive from point A to suggest B with no glitch, problem, or fuss, the Gacha includes a universal outlook and appeal that appears lightyears in front of it is time! Read the full article

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splattershotsundae · 8 years ago

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Better Eight than never --- Chapter 37: Stop being meme to me!

“I’d be careful if I were you~!” Orvokki taunted, causing Jill’s body to wave.

Toda felt Simon begin to tremble with fear and rage, he’d never known they could be this mad…

“Let her go!” They shouted.

“I wouldn’t take that tone!” Orvokki said, and then Jill’s arm twisted back on itself, causing her to scream.

Toda braced himself as he felt Simon stand, and then a wave of dizziness crashed over them and sent them careening toward the floor. He just managed to make them extend a hand to catch themselves the impact. ‘Simon, are you okay?’

‘No!’ They replied immediately. ‘Jill’s in trouble, she’s hurting!’

‘You can’t take on Orvokki like this, we’ll think of something!’ Toda reassured, his own mind racing. There had to be something he could do...

"Stop hurting her!” Bato yelped. “What is it that you want?"

"Kneel, and disarm yourselves." Orvokki said.

Orvokki was water, and in Jill’s head. She’d been able to hold on well in the past, but somehow Orvokki was stronger… but he was water too…

‘Toda, finish your sentences, what do you want to try?’

Toda took a second to gather his thoughts. ‘If... if I could get out of your head now, the way he could, I could... I could try and get Orvokki out of hers; She's been in my head too, I might know how to get her out... but I don't know if it works like that, there's every chance I would only hurt her more, and I don't know how long I've been in yours, what if you splat when I try to leave? There might not be a spawner close enough for you to...’

Simon started to get up to their knees. ‘Do whatever you have to do, I can take it! Jill needs help right now.’

He hesitated, then made them nod slightly. ‘Okay.’ He tried to think, how could he leave Simon's body? When Yuri had left his, they were in his subconscious, and he'd been dragged away by his own fear; he was pretty sure that wouldn't work here. Well... he'd imagined himself rising back to consciousness... maybe it was like that, except he would just keep going? Maybe… a super jump? That seemed like it would work. There wasn't much time, he had to try something. ‘Brace yourself.’ he directed one last thought at Simon, then tensed, aimed, and sprang forward.

As he flew through the air he was met with cold, filtered air, a dull gray world, and the sound of Simon shrieking behind him. He gritted his beak, but didn’t have much time to regret what he did before he slammed into Jill’s head.

There was a moment of stillness… before Toda heard a voice.

‘Well. This is unprecedented. I never thought of such a thing, this could open a whole new set of outcomes and algorithms to calculate… In theory this would be more dangerous as well, especially if Y-1 is as capable as a surface test showed.’

He could feel her nearby, but he couldn’t see her, like being shoved into a dark closet. Likewise, his surroundings felt disorienting, nothing was where he felt like it should be, and he realized he’d just had Jill shout ‘Snickerdoodle’ accidentally.

‘Toda? Is that Toda? You keep calling me Y-3, Y-1 must be Toda, is Y-2 Simon?! Forget it! Just give it back! Give me back my body!’ That was obviously Jill, she was scared and in pain, her head hurt so much from him being here, he had to act quickly.

‘Get out of Jill's head, you sick freak!’ He ‘shouted’ then cringed as he felt tentacles wrap around him and pin him against some invisible wall.

‘What I do is my business Y-1.’ Orvokki huffed.

Toda struggled against Orvokki’s grasp, trying to wrap his own tentacles around hers and keep a firm grip on them. ‘When you're hurting my friends it's my business too! Now leave, before I have to drag you out!’

‘Ow ow shut up!’ Jill stumbled backward and fell down against the wall, fists clenched in pain.

‘I won’t be silenced! The both of you shall die together!’ Orvokki shouted. Jill’s tentacles flipped up over her mouth and nose, and squeezed much like a snake who’d just caught prey.

‘No stop it let me go!’ Jill cried out as she tried to pull the tentacles off of her face. ‘Toda, do something!!!’ He could see Bato trying to help on the outside, but Orvokki seemed to have anchored herself quite firmly in Jill's head, and wouldn’t budge. He had to catch her off guard.

He ran through his own mind, and thought of the first random thing that popped into his mind. A few days ago, he’d watched the Lego Movie with Hachi. He just had to--

‘EVERYTHING IS AWESOME! EVERYTHING IS COOL WHEN YOU'RE PART OF A TEAM!’

He felt Orvokki falter. ‘What is this!? What is this squid propaganda!?’

"EVERYTHING IS AWESOME, WHEN YOU'RE LIVING A DREEEEAAAMMM~"

Toda felt a bit smug, and tried to bring up something else, a picture of a pet staring at the camera. ‘Wow, much cruel, very invade privacy’

Orvokki’s grip on his tentacles tightened, and he felt a surge coming from her. ‘I have memories of my own, Y-1!’

All of a sudden Toda was faced with a surge of fear. It was like ones that he’d felt in increasing frequency lately, the type of fear that came in a life or death situation. He saw an inkling strapped to a table, screaming as a machine over them drew ink from their body--

‘Stop!’ He shouted, forcing himself to think of more random thoughts. ‘WHO WANTS A MUFFIN!? Caaaarrameldansen, ooh ohhh owa owa! Papyrus realizes he doesn't have ears. I don’t always reference memes, but when I do I do it way too much.’

‘What even is a ‘meme’?!’ Orvokki demanded, forcing a memory of what she’d done to one of her victims back at him.

‘TODA, SHE’S HURTING ME!’ Jill screamed.

These thoughts bombarded him, and he shied back, grip loosening. He was just making this worse. He was just having Orvokki fight back harder. Jill was loosing air quickly, this was getting him nowhere… Maybe if he stopped resisting she’d stop hurting her...

“C’mon, you got this…!”

Toda tensed. Bato. He was cheering them on as he tried to pull Jill’s tentacles off her face. He couldn’t give up now, Jill needed his help. He tightened his grip on Orvokki’s tentacles and crouched down. It had worked the first time, he was going to jump out of here, and pull Orvokki with him!

‘What!? Let go of me!’ Orvokki said. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was too strong, he jumped forward, knocking Jill’s tentacles away from her mouth like a cork from a bottle.

Once more there was a free falling moment, cold, dry air surrounded him, but then he felt embodied again, tumbling against the floor. He briefly heard Simon crying out, but he was struggling to get his barrings. Orvokki was still with him, and he… was still gripping her? No, she was still gripping him-- Filled with horror, he found that his tentacles had fused with Orvokki’s, tying them together.

‘Look what you did!’ Orvokki snapped. ‘We have no skin, our limbs have incorporated each other, don’t you understand the health risks this could pertain!?’

‘Yeah? Well don’t you know the health risks to entering someone’s fucking brain?’ Toda retorted.

‘Toda?’

Toda paused and felt around briefly, then cringed. He was in Bato’s mind! ‘I’m so sorry!’

‘I can handle it, take care of Orvokki!’ Even as he said this though, he was digging his fingers into the floor in an attempt to stop them from shaking. He had only bought himself a little bit of time.

‘Stop getting in my way!’ Orvokki said, forcing memories of one of her previous encounters onto Bato, the pain she’d caused them before their inevitable demise.

‘I know what you’ve done Orvokki, you’re not going to get through to me that easily!’ Bato huffed, but Toda could tell he was still straining regardless.

‘Hey Bato, wiggly!’ He said quickly, and then all of Orvokki’s memories were forced away as they both remembered a brief memory, of the two of them when they were still pretty little; they were eating jello, and still being little toddlers at the time they'd both found it incredibly amusing to watch how much it jiggled if you shook the plate, and little Bato had had fun imitating it. And like many things throughout the years, it just sort of stuck.

‘Well, keep trying, Autobutt!’ Bato chimed.

Another memory, the two of them during the Transformers Splatfest, the way they'd laugh along with everyone they teamed up with when their 'Squad' name was read aloud, the way Jill and Simon had laughed when they'd explained it to them just two days ago... That day seemed so distant, just like everything that Orvokki was trying to force on them. They were so close, their shared fond memories kept flitting around like butterflies. The day they decided to form a squad, their first victory with Jill and Simon, a sleepover several years ago when they’d slept in a makeshift tent they made in the living room, the time they’d tried to make cookies and they’d mixed up half a teaspoon with half a tablespoon of salt and had to start over.

‘Oh dang, I actually forgot about that one.’ Bato laughed.

Toda huffed a little. ‘Well, you didn’t try to eat the batter!’

Just then, fear struck. They remembered the park. Bato fell from the tree, slamming his head against a rock on the ground with a sickening crunch, one which they’d never figured out why it had happened.

Bato groaned in agony from the memory, fingers clawing at the floor again.

‘I didn’t do that!’ Toda said quickly, his attention drawn to Orvokki. She’d seen that memory… Oh no.

‘I see… so what if I had more of your memories?’ She asked, then sprang at him.

Toda yelped as he felt Orvokki try to enter his head, was that even possible, given the circumstances?! He pushed back, gritting his beak from the effort. If they had to fuse completely to save Bato, then so be it!

As soon as he had that thought, Bato seemed to vanish away. He felt like he was in an entirely alien landscape, which was rapidly filling with fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this hadn’t been her intention at all.

Oh Judd. she hadn't gotten into his mind. He'd gotten into hers. While she was in Bato's. Possess-ception.

‘That portmanteau doesn’t even make sense!’ Orvokki declared. ‘And just because things haven’t gone according to my plan doesn’t mean I don’t have the upper hand!’

Toda cringed as he felt the memories of Orvokki’s experiments bombard him. He had nowhere to run, he was alone, he saw people bleeding, screaming, he felt her exhilaration and joy as it happened, and it made him feel nauseous. How could anyone feel happy seeing this? Revenge. That thought just came out of nowhere, like she’d answered it without wanting to. ‘Revenge for what!?’ Toda demanded.

‘For her.’

He saw her laughing smile. Her name was Olwen, and in the briefest of moments, he felt like he knew everything about her, and he knew that she was gone forever. For a moment he felt guilt, she was grieving.

He made himself shake this feeling off. ‘Someone dying is no excuse to do something like this! Would she want this!?’

A brief hesitation. He saw Olwen working alongside Orvokki. He saw them building the machine, the one which turned people to water, keeping notes, suggesting hypothesizes.

‘She would want the furthering of science, she would want to answer the questions of the universe and see our research come to fruition.’ Orvokki said. ‘Yes. She would want this.’

‘Oh. Yeah, sure enough.’ Toda cringed. That hadn’t worked. There had to be something else he could do. What was she doing? She seemed to be ignoring him now for the most part… Wait, octolings had five brains, and he was only in one of them! What was she doing right now!? He fought against her to see outside, and saw that she was using her other brains to flail her tentacles around, hurting Bato more and more. ‘NO!’ He screamed, managing to grab hold of one of her tentacles and using it to pin another ‘down’.

‘Be still Y-1! I’ll deal with you shortly!’ Orvokki huffed, wrenching control away from him again.

‘I won’t!’ Toda said. Random thoughts didn’t work, neither did talking, and he was separated from Bato’s reassurance. She claimed to be a scientist... Could he use her curiosity to his advantage? Still trying to take control of her tentacles, he tried a different approach. ‘Hey, Orvokki! Did you know that my Monochromacy helped against Yuri?’ He asked.

‘What?’ Orvokki replied.

Like throwing a stick for a dog, Toda spewed facts about his colorblindness off to the side, and he felt her attention drastically shift.

‘Only 1 in 30,000 squidlings was affected with his eye condition? Intriguing...’ He heard her murmur. ‘Monochromacy can mean you can only see one color, like blue, or you might only be able to see black and white, what an interesting classification...’

Toda kept feeding her facts, struggling to wrench control of her limbs away from her. C’mon…! He grabbed control of one tentacle, and thrust it forward, out of Bato, and then suctioned it to his face. That was one step!

‘What the-- No! I refuse to be outsmarted by a single-brained squid!’ Orvokki exclaimed.

Toda felt himself become more disconnected, and he gritted his beak and held on as hard as he could, grabbing onto a second tentacle and forcing that one outside as well. ‘Hey, Orvokki, is the answer to this question ‘no’?’

‘I’m not a computer, of course not!’ Orvokki exclaimed, but she was still thinking it over, her grip briefly loosening on him.

He lashed one more tentacle outside, and felt something tug. Simon! He made her tentacles wrap around their hand, and then pulled.

‘NOOOOO!!!’ Orvokki screamed as the pair were pulled outside into the lab once more, and Toda felt very briefly safe… until Simon flung Orvokki across the room, causing them to splash into a puddle on the floor.

“What did you do to Toda!?” Simon shouted. “Where is he!?”

‘You can’t hold onto me forever squidling…’ Orvokki said to him. ‘And you can’t leave me, or I’ll just attack you again… whatever will you do?’

Toda shuddered a little, and had Orvokki compose herself, and then transformed her to a humanoid form. She was right, he felt exhausted already, he couldn’t hold on forever… he jumped back as the end of a brush was held right in front of his face.

“Answer me!” Simon said, brandishing Bato’s brush. “Where’s Toda!?”

“I’m right here!” He managed to say. “I’m here, I’m in her head!”

Simon stared, momentarily uncomprehending, then slowly lowered the brush. “Toda?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, then leaned back sharply as thoughts swirled around him.

[You have (1) new messages from (Oshea Cromwell)]

‘What? Who's Oshea?’

Two of Orvokki's tentacles twitched. Ophelia never contacted anyone directly. It was always through Oshea. Something big was happening. Had happened. Something. ‘Don't you DARE read it squidling!’

There was a loud bang from the door, and it began to buckle. “We’re running out of time!” Stacey called.

‘You know what, I think I will, octoling!’ Toda retorted, thinking hard about opening the message.

[Miss Vitrel

You have been summoned to the golden kettle with posthaste.

Signed by

Oshea Cromwell]

‘Wait what? The golden kettle is open!?’ Orvokki asked.

‘What does that mean?’ Toda demanded.

Orvokki didn’t try to reply, but he heard it anyway, it meant that she was going to meet with the queen. He didn’t really like the sound of that.

Bato staggered to his feet, then walked up to them. “Where does that drain in the basin go?”

Orvokki thought about it once again, without Toda having to pressure her.

“Those pipes are filled with water, it’s not safe.” Toda said. “They go all around the facility, but there’s no way you guys can go through there.”

"Did she tell you all that?" Stacey asked.

"She thought about it when Bato asked her." Toda replied.

"Orvokki, what's your rank?" Stacey asked.

Class 2 elite- ‘Stop it!’

"Class 2 Elite." Toda relayed.

Stacey smirked. "We can use her to walk right out of here. She's high ranking. They have to at least listen to her. And she's under our control."

"Just have to parrot her replies..." Simon finished. They cast a glance at Toda. "But can you do it?"

"Yeah, I think so." Toda replied. ‘And if you try and make me screw up and put them all in danger, then I'm going to make things hell for you, he told Orvokki, I'm the one in your brain now, and you've given me some pretty good tips already.’ It was unlike him to be so brutal, but he was exhausted and afraid of what would happen to everyone if things went wrong...

The door creaked sharply, and Jill winced. It was the first time he’d gotten a clear look at her in a while, she looked pretty shaky and rough around the edges. "We're going to need to try to look like she detained us."

"Right." Toda agreed, carefully making Orvokki walk to the center of the room.

" 'Kneel and disarm yourselves'." Bato quoted quietly, slowly kneeling, though he didn’t look much better off than Jill. The others began to follow his lead.

‘I refuse! I refuse to just let you deprive me of my power SQUIDLING!’ Orvokki yelled, making them sway and almost tip over. ‘This will never work, you don’t even have the right posture!’

‘Well, I refuse to let you refuse. Wait, right posture?’ Toda asked.

"Straighten your back." Bato hissed.

Toda blinked, then stood up as straight as this watery body could manage, right as the door buckled and fell inward. Octolings streamed into the room, several stopping and saluting when they saw Orvokki, others fanning out and securing the room. Several clustered around the scientist, who was now unconscious on the floor, and aimed their weaponry at them, just to be safe.

Orion strode in, with another octoling, Oana, like he owned the place, expression in his usual disdain. His gaze rested on Orvokki, and his frown deepened. “You’re out.”

'Not my choice' She thought.

Toda was preeeeety sure that parroting that back wasn't a good idea, so he tried to rephrase it. "It was important."

"Obviously. What happened, where's Y-1?" Orion asked flatly.

Orvokki almost thought that was funny. ‘In my head. Look closer. How are you feeling squidling? Am I helping you escape yet?’

Toda was starting to get concerned about how this was going to work out. He thought quickly, finally answering with a short. "Dead." And nodding to a purple ink splatter on the other side of the room. “These squidlings thought he was me.”

‘You know.’ He said to Orvokki. ‘I'm pretty sure it wouldn't go over well for you if your colleagues found out you were overpowered by a squidling. Especially with that... summons? That you just got? So maybe you should actually try and help?’

Orvokki froze. A fear settled in. She could lose everything couldn't she? They... couldn't replace her on such short notice though. Even though they had Onella... Ugh! Why did she tell her so much!? It was her job to, they had to have two!

‘Two, two for what!?’ Toda asked.

Orion gave a slight nod at the octolings by the splatter, and they fired, changing it to octarian purple. Thank goodness nobody was hiding in there. "You better get ready. I look forward to seeing your performance. I know you've been practicing." He then pointed at the row of disarmed squids by the wall. “Put Y-2 and Y-3 back into storage, execute the others.”

“Wait!” Toda shouted before he could help it. He then shuddered as he was faced with Orion’s steely glare. “I… still need those two for testing!”

“What sort of tests?” Orion asked, tentacles swishing.

‘Orvokki, I can’t come up with something, if you don’t help, I swear to Judd I’m going to rat you out!’ Toda snapped.

‘Give me my mouth.’ Orvokki demanded.

Toda hesitated a second; what if she betrayed what was really going on? ... But he didn't have any better ideas. ‘Don't say anything to give this away or you’ll pay dearly’ He said, letting her have control of her mouth again, but ready to take it back if he needed to.

“Someone contaminated my lab with sodium hypochlorite, and it may have gotten into my body, and by extension these heinous squids.” Orvokki said. “And I need to do some tests on them before I can do the performance, or I could die!”

“What is Sodium hyperchlorite?” Orion huffed.

“BLEACH!” Orvokki snapped. “Why don’t I pour some down your throat and see how you like it?” She asked.

“If I were you I would watch your tongue.” Orion snarled.

“And if you were me, you would be furious that someone put poison in my laboratory! Who did this!?” She demanded.

A few of the octolings around, the ones which had been working in her lab, started to look extremely awkward.

"Who did this?! You should KNOW the effects that compound has on my body! If you all make me look like a FOOL because of your petty mistake, I will personally make sure you never get a single ration again!!" She snapped.

“I-I’m sorry...” One octoling whispered.

Orion snapped his fingers and gestured out of the room, the octoling who'd spoken up darted out, awfully pale.

Orvokki then quickly continued. "The sooner you get out, through my BROKEN-" A few octolings jumped at this. "-door, the sooner we can all call it early. Unless you want the MC herself to be furious for ruining her show!"

Several octolings ran out of the room, though Orion didn't quite look like he believed her, but after a short pause… "The same applies to you, might I remind you." He gestured for two octolings to stay, then briskly walked from the room, other troops carrying out the unconscious scientist behind him.

‘… Well done.’ Toda admitted grudgingly.

Orvokki gave a slight frown. ‘I get what I want. Usually.’

The two octolings stepped forward and saluted, only for Stacey to suddenly sweep her legs and knock both of them over like bowling pins, she then flipped around and slammed her heels into their heads to knock them unconscious. “… Th… That wasn’t Toda...” She concluded as she flopped out on the floor.

Bato nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

"It... was an emergency." Toda made her say, tone a little sheepish.

‘I'll be missed if you don't let me go soon, squidling.’ Orvokki reminded. ‘I have more important things to control.’ She tried to be subtle about it, but 'siren' and '1' passed rather quickly through her head.

Toda blinked. ‘Wait, Callie's here? I mean, 1? Where is she? ‘

Several possible places for both Callie and Marie passed through her head, but nothing definitive. ‘That's it squidling. I've had enough!’ She wasn't sure if what she’d planned would work, but she seemed determined to try.

‘Try what!?’ Toda demanded.

Just then, he felt her tentacles shift, and then the tips plunged inward, into her own head. Toda screamed in agony as the tentacles wrapped around him, and then flung him out onto the ground.

"Ugh.... Finally…" Orvokki murmured, stumbling to the drain. "It's been fun, squids. Maybe we'll officially meet later, Y-2." And with that she transformed, vanishing down the pipes.

“Get back here!” Simon snapped, pouncing at the drain, too late to catch Orvokki. “Damn it...”

Toda gathered himself up and transformed, fists clenched. “I let her get away...” He muttered, a little startled at how gurgly his voice was.

“We need to get out o—AAHHH!” Jill yelped, clapping her hands over her mouth. “Toda! Y-You’re…!”

“I know...” He said. “I don’t like it either...”

“Um.. Toda, no, not the water...” Simon said.

"What?" He asked, looking between her and Simon... Something was off, but he couldn't quite place it...

Bato frowned and took a few steps closer, seeming to tower over him as he got close. "You're tiny, dude." He said bluntly.

Toda’s eyes widened and he looked himself over. Apparently Orvokki had taken a toll on him as well. "... Oh."

"D-Does it... Hurt?" Jill asked cautiously.

"I don't... think so." He replied slowly. He was hurting a little, but that might've just been from being thrown... Maybe?

“I read Orvokki’s journal.” Bato said. “We can try to find some water for you to swim in, that should help you... Refill? Like an ink tank?"

“I don’t know if we have time...” Toda said.

“If you don’t, you’ll evaporate!” Bato said hurriedly. “I can’t let that happen!”

Toda stopped for a moment, then looked around. “… The only place with water is that tap, and I can’t swim there, or I might go down the drain like Orvokki.”

“Fill up that tank on your back, Bato!” Jill pointed out.

Bato hesitated, then nodded, pulling a containment tank off his back, and then after fiddling with it, opened it up and filled it with water before turning back to Toda.

He took a long look at the tank, then sighed. “Okay, but don’t close it.” He said, then squidded and jumped in.

The splash felt so soothing, his aches all began to fade as he swam in small circles. It felt wonderful...

“Stacey, how are you doing?" Bato asked.

Stacey gave a light sigh. "Everything hurts... And I'm going to have a lot to explain to my dad... But we're all alive... That's a plus. Jill is... right though, we need to... get... get out of here before these... two guards are missed."

“I got an idea, we can dress up as them!” Jill exclaimed. “Just like Bato!”

“There’s only two of them, and three of us. Four, if you count Toda.” Simon pointed out. “We’d have to be clever.”

“Once Toda’s done with the tank, I can carry Stacey in it.” Bato said. “And before you argue, you can barely stand, you shouldn’t be cartwheeling people right now.”

Stacey sighed. “I know, just please be gentle.”

“Also, those masks won’t work unless they’re hacked. I’ve been around Hachi, I might be able to figure it out.” Bato added.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Simon said.

Once the pain seemed to have subsided, Toda jumped out of the tank and de-squidded, a single ripple going over his body like a shudder. He side stepped over to Bato and looked himself over. “… Well, I’m still shorter than you, but at least now I’m the right sort of shorter.”

Bato huffed and tipped the tank out into the drain, leaving it upside-down to dry out a little while he worked on the masks.

Toda turned back to the group. "They have the Sisters." He said grimly, "I think Orvokki is planning on trying to control Callie."

"Ugh.... No.…" Stacey groaned, trying to sit up.

Simon grimaced. "Why am I even surprised."

"Is... Is there anything we can do?!" Jill asked.

"I don't know." Toda shook his head. "I tried to ask her where they were, but she thought of a few different places, not one in particular..."

"... 'Performance'..." Simon said slowly. “Orion mentioned a show.”

"Oh Judd..." Stacey stiffened. "Ophelia is putting on a show... If they're going to be anywhere, it's... Probably there… I went to the DJ’s performance last year, and I only just made it out of there alive. It’s going to be packed, and if anyone figures out who we are… we’re dead. But… everyone will be invited. The rest of the domes will be deserted.”

Toda rippled again, then frowned a bit. "Orvokki was supposed to meet her, I think. She got a message saying something about the kettle being open? A... Golden kettle?"

Bato looked up. "There... Was a gold-colored kettle, in one of the other domes... And it was closed when we--," He broke off.

".... We?" Simon asked.

Bato hesitated, glancing at the unconscious octolings for the second, then muttered. "... Hachi. She's the one that got me out of this facility to begin with, and the one that got me back in."

"Why?" Jill slowly asked. "Why would she do that?"

"She said she did some... Illegal searching on Yuri.” He explained. "She didn't know about the whole... In-people's-heads part. And she didn't like it when she found out."

"Can't blame her." Toda muttered.

"So you're saying you trust her again?" Simon snapped.

"I didn't exactly have a choice." Bato replied, his tone even. "I'm sure there was more that she didn't tell me. But I wouldn't have been able to get this far if it wasn't for her."

Simon took a deep breath, then let it out slowly in almost a growl.

"No time." Stacey said quietly. "We need to keep working on our plan.”

Bato glanced at Stacey, then nodded as he unscrewed the back of one of the guard’s masks."I... Don't have access to a map anymore." He said slowly. "The mask she hacked for me only had access to the main area, and they cut out Orvokki's journal."

"Keep the... Journal anyway." Stacey said, trying again to sit up. "… Could be something valuable on it."

Toda began to pace. There was no way they could disguise him… would he… have to go back into one of their heads? He cringed at the thought.

“Hey guys, good news! This person’s shoes fit perfectly on my feet!” Jill exclaimed. “Man, Octolings have great taste in boots! I love it!”

Simon shook their head. “Oh Jill…”

“Someone’s got to have the smile!” Jill said. “And that’s me. Come on, let’s put on these clothes, fit the part!”

Simon paused, then nodded, pulling the boots off the other octoling. “… You know, Toda...”

Toda glanced at them, then looked away again, "... We'll think of something else. I won't... I'm not going to..."

Simon sighed. "There’s not going to be another option. Just be careful, it’ll only be until we get back to the surface.”

Toda rubbed his arm. "... I won't make you do it. I won't make anyone do it."

Simon laced the shoes, slowly thinking. "... We need to get out of here. What will we all do without each other?... I... I'm willing to do it for you."

Toda looked at them for a moment, then sort of ‘sighed’. "If you're sure." He said quietly.

“Hey guys, which way’s the front of this armor?” Jill asked.

“The curved side. The flat side’s the back.” Bato said. He was on to the second mask by now.

“Got it.” Jill said. ��How are we going to hide our tentacles?”

“I see some tentacle caps over there on the wall.” Simon said. “We should be able to look slightly less suspicious in those.”

“I’ll get them!” Toda said, running over and picking up two of the caps for a few moments before they both sunk through his hands. He went silent for a second, then gave a little snort... which sounded pretty weird in this state. "Probably should've expected that."

Jill looked up. "Was... That you snorting?" She asked. "Like, as in laughing? "

Simon covered their mouth for a moment. “Judd, that was adorable.”

Toda blinked, then felt himself grow warmer.

“Um… Toda, your cheeks are steaming.” They added.

"Odd..." Bato said with a small frown. “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing!” He said quickly.

“Well… I got these masks done.” Bato said. “Go ahead and put them on.”

Jill took one, then slipped it on. “Whoa! Can’t you zoom with this? How do you do that?”

“Oh, um, I don’t think you can anymore. Hachi left me with some instructions, and it had me take out the optic reader, so now I think it’s just headgear.” Bato said.

“Awwww...” Jill said, disappointedly.

“As long as we have a disguise, we’ll be okay.” Simon said as they slipped on the mask.

"… Hey, Toda? You think splatting you will return you to normal again...?" Jill asked, putting the mesh cap on her tentacles. "I mean, it worked with him."

"I don't see why it wouldn't..." Toda said, though he hadn't thought about that. He certainly hoped it would...

Jill voiced the thought that had passed through his head. "But... but what if it doesn't?"

"It WILL." Simon grimaced. "It has to. It can’t just work for Yuri and then NOT work for Toda! That's just.. not fair...”

“… I think life’s proven to not be fair recently...” Toda said.

“We’ll deal with this once we get out of here.” Bato said, picking up the containment tank. “Stacey, you ready for a ride?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be...” She grunted and then transformed and let herself be scooped up.

"Don't drop it." Toda said quietly. “I almost died in one of those...”

Bato nodded, clipping the tank to his octo belt.

Simon gave a little sigh and looked at Toda. "I think we're about ready to go... so..." They tensed and held out their hand. “I’m ready.”

"Right..." Toda turned towards them, then stepped forward and squidded, jumping to their head.

Simon took a deep breath and slowly opened their eyes, it hurt a little bit more than they remembered. ‘You there?’ They asked, even though the answer was pretty clear.

‘Yeah, I'm here.’ Toda replied, once again feeling the weird sort of two-places-at-once sensation from earlier. ‘Sorry, I was trying to be careful.’

‘No, no, it's not your fault, we barely understand how this stuff works... maybe I was almost trying to fight it... that's when it hurts most.’ They gave a little thumbs up to the others.

‘I don't blame you, for trying to fight. I know it hurts...’ He still wished there had been some other option.

Jill nodded. "I guess we're good to go. Unless we're missing something... But I don't think we are."

“Well, we are missing something.” Bato said. “Straighten your backs you two, you’ll stand out for a mile.”

Bato and Toda are Knitter’s characters

Simon, Jill, Hachi, Orvokki, Orion, Oana, Onella, Ophelia, Yuri and Stacey are Shuckle’s characters. (Whew, that’s a lot)

Splatoon belongs to Nintendo.

Guess what, none of the lyrics in this chapter belong to me either.

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>]

#Better Eight Than Never #Splatoon #Inkling #Octoling #SS Simon #SS Jill #SS Toda #SS Bato #BS Stacey #Octo Orion #Octo Oana #Octo Orvokki

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