#viewscreen

[contac]

[federationgothic]

[sw5w]

All Rise for the Queen

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:40:06

[swtechspecs]

Darth Maul's Sith Electrobinoculars (viewscreen)

Source: The Official Star Wars Fact File #9 (De Agostini, 2002)

[homoquartz]

please help why is riker/picard ACTUALLY happening to me??

[dreamsrunfaster]

Michael Burnham is CAPTAIN

[sage3m5]

💀 he says you should look at my art blog -> @cfrog

hey thanks for clicking on the read more. welcome to my blog.

i just wanted to let you know that this mst3k clip is stolen from this post. you can leave now.

[etherealspacejelly]

this is so random but i love the way sulu always turns around to look at whoevers in charge when he gets nervous. its such a consistent thing its gotta be an intentional character choice either by the writers/directors or by george. they always cut to that angle looking at the viewscreen to show him doing it as well.

maybe he gets reassurance just from looking at the captain being all stoic and calm. maybe hes waiting for him to give a command. maybe he's just thinking "you seeing this shit??"

who knows. not me. but its just so. human. i love that every character in this show feels like a person with their own quirks and personalities.

also i just love sulu

[crownofbegonias]

Check out the Hexfield Viewscreen!

[jackhawksmoor]

You'd be surprised

Turns out he's both effective AND hilarious

watching an episode of TNG where Crusher was left in charge of the ship and thinking about how much i would NOT trust McCoy in that situation

[federationgothic]

[sw5w]

There Hasn't Been a Full-Scale War Since the Formation of the Republic

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:39:33

[revelboo]

I miss my wife(Fort Max), Revel. I really miss him..😔

He needs some love

Move Pt 2

Fort Max x Reader

• Lip curling slightly as you purge on his console and try to shove yourself into an even tighter ball against his viewscreen, he’s aware of Red Alert jabbering. But he can’t look away from those frightened eyes when you peek at him, chirping softly. What are you saying? “Can you send me the language file?” He interrupts Red’s slide into conspiracies and that you just blipping into existence is likely the work of the Decepticons somehow. ‘Of course,’ Red mutters sulkily and he knows he’ll need to apologize for cutting off the other bot.

• This can’t be real. You didn’t just get beamed up from your crappy, barely above minimum wage job by a giant, scary robot monster. “This isn’t happening. I’m not in space,” you whisper, the words pleading. Because this can’t be real, you’ve obviously had a mental breakdown. Maybe you’re in a padded room babbling away, your crappy job finally breaking you. “There’s no scary monster. Yeah, you’re not real.”

• Shivering as the language patch comes through and gets assimilated, suddenly your terrified chirping takes on meaning. Begging for this to not be real, trying to desperately convince yourself from the sound of it. “I’m sorry, little one, but this is real,” he says and you shriek, scrambling to wedge yourself into a corner and he can hear Red laughing at him. And you’re so tiny as you cringe away from him. “I won’t hurt you.”

• It talks. In a low and surprisingly soothing voice, but it’s gigantic and it stretches a servo bigger than you are your way as your heart races trying to beat its way free of your ribs. And you wonder if your heart’s going to give out before the monster can even do anything to you. “Where am I? What are you?” Tensing as that big servo edges too close, you try to smack it away. Immediately regretting it when he frowns at you and you brace for retaliation. Why’d you hit him?

• You’re terrified of him. Knows most organics don’t care for Cybertronians, but you’re cringing like you expect pain. Maybe your only point of reference was the Decepticons? Or, and the thought makes him uneasy, but what if your kind haven’t even had first contact? Swapping to his own language, he draws his hand away. “How much experience do humans have with other sentient races?” Hears Red clear his vents. ‘None.’ And the hysterics make sense as he grimaces. “Figure out how this one got here if you can, Red.”

• He’s back to growling in his own harsh language as your skin crawls. Flinching when his attention focuses back on you, you wonder if you’d break your neck trying to slide off of the console. But really? Where are you going to hide? You’re on a ship in space. And he’s leaning closer to make your feet slide trying to wedge yourself tighter into the corner. Is he going to squish you like a bug? Torture you? Dissect you? “Ba weep granna weep ninny bong,” he growls. What?

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[mollyjames]

ALERT! This unit will not consume rations without an available viewscreen!

[josephpaine]

people are gonna think I'm a spirker and like no I ship Kirk and Khan and McCock, DUH

it would be funny if the only movie I see consistently on film in my life is Star Trek II The Wrath of Khan right

Right???

[suzukiblu]

Final 1k of the 5k of the promised "the Last Son of Krypton meets Hypertime Kon" behind the cut, and that's the full 5k up! 💙 Hope y'all enjoyed the updates the past few days, haha. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off like that,” Clark adds as he scans the the information on-screen–there’s a reporter with a mike, but he can read and process much faster than they can speak, so the scanning is a reflex at this point–and Kon . . . hesitates, it feels like. 

“I mean–it’s Super-shit, man,” he says, sounding more confused than anything else. “What’re you sorry about? Like, it’s literally your job.” 

“Kid, we can prioritize emergency situations and still feel bad for getting pulled away from people in our lives for them,” Clark reminds him even though he’s sure his other self must’ve told the kid that a few thousand times by now no matter how new he is, briefly distracted by the new line of text rolling by on the screen and the reporter’s words and frowning to himself.

It’s not a dire emergency, thankfully, but it seems like there’s a structural incident going on with the Central Auxiliary Operations Dams up above the Historic District. Which . . . they’re arch-gravity dams–so more reliable than pure arch dams and less expensive to build than pure gravity ones–and they connect the hydro plant and the water treatment facility. They’re both made of RCC, not conventional concrete or masonry, and their lifespans should last another thirty-five years or so with appropriate upkeep, which means a structural problem could be a defect or poor maintenance or even deliberate sabotage, but definitely not just ordinary wear-and-tear, and therefore almost definitely not an issue the staff is currently prepared for. 

The eidetic memory may be over-supplying some information here, probably, Clark can admit, but not to be Bruce about it: it never hurts to go in prepared. 

Either way, though, this is definitely an “an ounce of prevention” situation. The issue isn’t about Metropolis itself flooding, if either of the dams break or overflow–the reservoir will dump out into the ocean, if anything, which won’t be ideal for the local ecosystem but at least will be much less likely to kill or injure anyone–but the hydro plant and water treatment facility and what might happen to those are definitely an issue. Half the city could end up without clean water, and at least the Historic District and New Troy would lose power for god knows how long. 

Maybe several ounces of prevention, Clark thinks. 

“Oh,” Kon says. “Uh. Sure, man.” 

Something about the way he says it catches Clark’s ear, and he glances away from the viewscreen reflexively and looks at Kon instead. He looks confused, still, and maybe a little troubled, and then–startled, almost, as he registers Clark looking at him. 

Like he didn’t expect someone would actually hear that note in his voice and not even look at him. 

Clark thinks some unkind things about interdimensional cloning labs and puts a smile on, pretending not to have noticed the reaction. 

“I need to go see if there’s anything I can do to help out,” he says. 

“Oh, uh–yeah, I know,” Kon says, and looks briefly uncomfortable. “Like, it’s cool, I’ll be fine . . . uh, here. Or do you need to like, stick me with another ‘make sure the guy’s not secretly evil’ babysitter or something?” 

Admittedly, a “babysitter” is protocol with an unknown on the Watchtower, but also, Clark doesn’t actually want to leave the kid alone when he’s upset and out of his usual territory anyway, because in what possible world–or reality–would he? 

Though there’s a pretty effective solution for that, he figures. 

“Are you up to coming along?” Clark suggests, tamping down the hopeful note that wants to slip into his voice and might make the kid feel pressured about it. Considering he just took down a metahuman gang solo less than two hours ago and he has no idea what the kid was doing in Hypertime before that, Clark wouldn’t blame him for needing to sit this one out. 

Still . . . well, it’s a little selfish, he supposes, but he can’t resist asking all the same. 

If Kon never does happen here, it’d at least be nice to work with him the once. 

“Uh . . . I mean, yeah, sure, but like . . . you sure you wanna bring me along?” Kon asks warily, which seems like a ridiculous question to Clark right now, given he’s fairly certain that he’s never been more sure of anything in his life than he is of Kon. “Like, I’m kinda . . . destructive, y’know? Like–you saw the street and all earlier.” 

“Kon, I’ve sneezed more destructively than that,” Clark says wryly. “And either way you did it to protect people, so my first instinct is really not being concerned that you’re going to just randomly blow up a dam without a good reason.” 

Kon stares blankly at him. 

“Uh,” he says. “What, it’s okay if I think I’ve got a ‘good reason’?” 

“Yes,” Clark says. He would much rather anyone blow up a dam or two than let anyone else get hurt because they were too busy worrying about property damage, of all things. 

Kon just keeps staring at him, and Clark has the thought that maybe not everyone the kid’s met has done the correct math in terms of “people” versus “property”, which is definitely unpleasant, as a thought. 

At least Kon knows how to do that math himself, if nothing else, but the thought of someone telling off a kid who’s just trying to help for not worrying about tearing up a layer or two of asphalt still makes Clark rankle. 

“Are you good to go?” Clark asks him. “I don’t blame you if you’re a little tapped out, after getting tossed through ‘the Hypertime pinball machine’ and all.” 

Kon stares at him, then half-seems to startle, or maybe just reorient, and gives a quick shake of his head. The kid’s still all over the place, but even without this situation he’s a teenager, and even without being a teenager god knows how much experience he has with emotional regulation, so Clark doesn’t even slightly blame him for the mood swings. Frankly he’d have been doing a lot worse at sixteen himself. 

“Uh,” Kon says. “It’s just–weird, man, that’s all. Uh–I’m good to go, yeah. Lead the way, Big Blue.” 

Clark tries not to let out a little laugh at hearing that one, wondering if the kid picked it up from his Jimmy or just around Metropolis in general, but it’s just–well, it’s just cute to hear it, either way. Though maybe a little sad, too, because Kon’s been making a clear effort to call him “man” and “dude” and things like that; things that, well . . . 

Things that a kid wouldn’t normally call a parent. Which, well . . . 

Clark keeps calling Kon “the kid” in his head, so . . . well, it’s not any different, he thinks, if they both need to remind themselves they’re talking to someone who isn’t really theirs. Though it makes him feel a little soft too, in a little bit of a sad way. Just–seeing the same coping mechanism he’s using himself in Kon is . . . 

It just–it does make him feel a little soft, in that sad way. It also makes him just want to reach out and hug the kid. Pull him in and wrap his arms around him and just–not actually let go. 

At least not until he has to, anyway.