#(yes i started the presentation with ‘space: the final frontier’) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

de-profundis-ad-astra · 4 years ago

Text

Fury, Oh Fury - Part One

Triple Frontier | Hunger Games AU

Me: Hey what if I started working on Fury again? Y’all: Me: Hey if I started working on Fury again would you read it? Y’all: Me: Okay okay you’ve forced my hand I guess I gotta start working on Fury again

Rating || Mature (for graphic descriptions of violence/gore and strong language) Characters || Ben Miller. William Miller. A good chunk of this fic will be heavily focused on the Miller brothers, because I’m most comfortable writing them and I feel like I know them the best. Rest assured, Pope and Catfish will be making appearances ~eventually~ Word Count || 4.2k Taglist || (Starting out tagging some mutuals and people I remember from the previous taglist) @firefeatherx @mylifeliterally @mandoplease @phoenixhalliwell @skylyknightly @havenforafrazzledmind @beatriz-silva-00 @veuliee @veuliee2 @oldstuffnewstuff @dindisneydjarin @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @agirllovespancakes @xjustmenobodyelse @oscarflysaac @jaime1110 @goldenhour-goldenboy @pascalz @briskywalker @herestherealproblem @givemethatgold

Author’s Note || For anyone who might be new here, @veuliee sent me a concept that I kinda uh, tripped over my own feet and plunged face first into and that’s the story of how I started writing a Hunger Games AU for Triple Frontier. Things got unbelievably crazy once I started work, and I’ve had some pretty unhealthy work/home boundaries with being virtual. I’m trying to establish some healthier limits and make more time for my writing, and this seemed like a good enough starting point. That and the outlines for the rest of this fic are still staring at me and demanding to be written.

So, here goes.

Home hasn’t felt like home since Will left.

It’s been nothing more than a house since the day of the reaping, almost a month ago. A collection of walls with a roof—the same as any other building. The place where he grew up. A place to rest his head and feed himself between training sessions. It won’t be home until Will comes back.

If he comes back.

Will has trained for this, Ben tells himself when doubt creeps in, wraps its icy fingers around his lungs and clenches tight, pushes down on his chest in the dead of the night and it feels like Ben is drowning. Will practiced and fought and earned the chance to volunteer for District Two. He wouldn’t have been selected as the male tribute for this year if his teachers hadn’t felt he had a strong chance of returning victorious.

But there had been Two’s female tribute also. And the tributes from One and Four. All were formidable in a fight, and knew the tips and tricks to survival that would be essential in the arena. Not to mention the Games themselves were an absolute wild card. For all Will’s training, he still could be killed by a natural disaster of the gamemakers design, stabbed in the back by his allies, a tribute from an outlying district could catch him off guard.

There’s far too much that can go wrong; Ben drowns each and every thought behind his own training at the academy.

He can’t let that kind of vulnerability shine through. Not to his father. Not to his peers. Especially not when he’s being followed as much as his brother in the arena. Since the field of tributes narrowed down to eight five days ago, when Capitol cameras and personnel arrived to interview him and his father, there’s been hardly a moment of privacy. So Ben covers his fear with a smile, says he has full confidence that his brother will be home as soon as he can. He laughs when they ask him if he’ll volunteer one day, just like his brother did.

Ben answers with a grin, says he has no place to make that determination—but who knows?

Deep down… he knows. He’s known for a while now. He’s young, but he’s already tall, strong, quick. A prodigy, they’d said of his skills. A promised child, just like his brother was.

In spite of his age, Ben is favored to volunteer and represent District Two in the coming years. For now, though, the focus is on honing those skills, shaping him into the best warrior they can to bring pride to District Two.

The Capitol, they say, are charmed by him already. The idea of two brothers bearing the title of Victor is the kind of narrative they’re keen to fall for. So Ben plasters that smile on and lets himself become a part of the show.

Because if he lost Will…

If he lost Will—

Where would home be?

All of District Two seems to have hit pause, every pair of eyes glued to the nearest screen.

Peacekeepers-in-training pause their exercises. Future tributes stop their sparring matches. The lines at every shop in town are on hold. Even the children have stopped playing their games to witness this.

And in the city square, standing in front of the Justice Building in a roped off section reserved for family, the mayor, and a handful of District Two’s more recent victors, thirteen year old Benjamin Miller tries to keep his fidgeting down to an occasional scuff of his feet on the dusty ground or flex of his weary muscles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we are entering the final moments of the Fifty-fourth annual Hunger Games!”

The massive screens mounted in the square broadcast live footage from the arena. Presently, two feeds are placed side by side, dedicated to the two remaining tributes of this year’s Hunger Games. One tracks Will’s every move, the other follows his opponent: the boy from District Four.

Will abandoned the Career pack when there were still fourteen tributes left. One night, during his watch shift, he left them behind, taking with him a pack with enough food to last him four days, a bottle of water, a sleeping bag, a hunting knife, and his preferred sword. A long, wicked thing most people might have struggled to wield two-handed. Will handled it with ease. One-handed.

Speculation rippled through the district at that. The decision to leave so early in the Games was shocking enough. Why not kill the rest while they slept and increase his odds of victory by an exponential margin? It was known that the pack would disband eventually, but why so soon?

At the academy, Will was both praised and berated for his choice. It was understandable to leave before bonds formed and killing another tribute turned into killing an ally. But so early? When so much could go wrong? It was a risk not many were brave enough to take.

In the arena, navigating the terrain proved to be its own exercise of survival. This year’s terrain consisted of three mountains of varying height, surrounded by dense forest. It became apparent early on that the woods were not safe, as they were crawling with all manner of predators, both organic and manufactured by the Capitol. Two weeks into the Games, the gamemakers destroyed the entire forest with a raging wildfire, killing an additional two tributes.

The forest now uninhabitable, Will had taken to carving out several hiding places among the mountainsides. Once he’d burned through his rations, he relied on hunting small creatures still inhabiting the cliffs and whatever his mentor was able to provide through sponsors. With the element of surprise working for him, Will had managed to ambush and eliminate four additional tributes, bringing his kill count to a whopping ten—high above the average for a typical career.

Almost half of the playing field, brought down by one seventeen-year old. Will must have struck a deal with his allies before the start of the Games, because during the bloodbath, he’d done most, if not all of the killing while the remainder of his team secured their supplies from the Cornucopia. If he walked away from this, he’d be the pride of District Two for a long time to come on that merit alone.

When the tribute pack thinned down to four, the gamemakers struck again. Devastating rockslides hammered each mountain, cutting off both Will’s access to his hiding spots, and any freshwater sources he’d relied on. The slides killed two tributes, the girl from One and the boy from Five.

Ben remembered watching in abject horror as his brother fled from the avalanche, finally managing to take cover underneath an outcropping of rock that shielded him from the worst of it. He’d escaped, though not without accruing a fair amount of scrapes and bruises along the way. The worst of it was a small, but deep cut slicing through his eyebrow. By a small miracle, it had stopped bleeding within an hour, but half of Will’s face was now crusted with streaks of dried blood, only adding to his already haggard state. He lost his knife in the chaos, but managed to hold onto his sword—his saving grace.

Not only that, but the only reason the boy from Four had survived was because he’d turned on his companion as they fled. When they were clear of the slides, while her guard was down, he’d shoved her back, right into the path of an oncoming boulder. She was crushed before she could even appear shocked by the betrayal. There weren’t even any remains left for the hovercraft to collect.

More whispers rippled through the district, then. Yes, it was sad. But it was what needed to be done.

No fresh water. Most of the wildlife either dead or scared off. Two tributes. It was evident the gamemakers wanted to end this fast. The Games had already lasted nearly three and a half weeks, far longer than average. This year had proven to be a particularly hardy bunch. Even getting a small water bottle into the arena at this rate would likely cost a large fortune.

Which meant they were on their own.

The moment the dust cleared, the cannons fired and faces projected in the sky, everyone knew what came next. Immediately, a space was cleared in the square for Ben and his father, victors called out to join and prepare to offer either congratulations or condolences depending on the outcome of the final encounter.

On the screen, Will inches his way along a narrow path on the face of the tallest mountain. All he has on his person is his sword and his clothes, veritably shredded after three weeks of fighting for his life in such an unforgiving environment. The landscape is similar enough that when Ben looks at the screen with the boy from Four, he can’t tell how near they are to each other. Will grew up in the mountains of Two. In theory, he should have an advantage over the boy from the coast. Nothing is ever set in stone, though—not in the Hunger Games. Four had proven himself to be quiet the adaptable tribute.

They have to be getting close, Ben thinks, there’s no way the gamemakers would push them away from each other at this point.

As if in answer to his thought, a low, feline snarl rumbles through the speakers. It’s faint, far away, but Will hears it. Everyone hears it. Pressing his back against the rock, he dares a swift look down towards the origin of the sound. As if oblivious to the cameras trained on him or simply not caring, Will’s shout cuts through the wind.

“Fuck!”

The camera angle switches, and Ben’s heart plummets.

Prowling about fifty feet beneath Will’s feet is a strange breed of feline, the likes of which Ben has never seen before. Three of them. Large, with a pale golden coat and small round ears. Long, curved, razor-sharp claws extending from all four oversized paws carve thin scratches into the rock as they pace back and forth beneath him.

Ben’s first thought is cougar, but then the cat looks up, and he beholds the elongated canines extending far past its lower jaw. He’s learned about it in school. A kind of cat that went extinct long before the continent was even known as the Americas. Despite his best efforts, Ben cannot recall its name.

It’s undoubtedly a muttation, designed and put out by the gamemakers to do one thing: kill.

The long-toothed cat bares its teeth, its companions following suit. From his perch on the mountainside, Will’s chest moves rapidly. He’s struggling to control his breath, Ben realizes. His throat tightens, his stomach tangling with itself.

Beside him, his father murmurs, “Move, William, move.”

“Look at that!” one of the commentators yells. “It seems the gamemakers have one last trick up their sleeves to push Will and Reed together!”

Ben grips the rope in front of him as if that is the only thing separating him from Will. The big cat crouches, leaps up to a rock jutting out from the mountainside, ten feet closer to him. Ben spares one glance towards Four’s feed. He doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Another trio of cats nip at his heels as he struggles to ascend the mountain.

Will’s breathing slows and deepens, and he masters himself enough to take several tiny steps closer to the end of the path. There, he will easily be able to summit the mountain, another twenty feet above his head.

The cats leap up another ten feet, and Will draws his sword with one hand. Bracing his free hand on the smooth, grey rock, he angles the blade towards the advancing cats and continues inching along. Only a few more feet separate him from the safety of the broad platform of stone. Beneath him, one of the cats leans back onto its haunches. Its entire body trembles before it goes preternaturally still, preparing to make one last leap towards its prey.

Reading the movements, Will does the same. For a moment, they lock eyes. Blue to gold, predator to predator. Silence grips the square. Ben’s lungs strain against his ribs, but he doesn’t let himself breathe. Not yet. Not when it feels as if a single puff of air could alter the course of history in this moment.

The cat leaps.

So does Will.

He goes nearly parallel to the ground, his free hand reaching out for something he can catch himself on and his sword hand sweeping downward the same moment the cat swipes a clawed paw towards him.

The honed edge of the sword slices deep into the neck of the feline. A trail of blood droplets follows the arc of the blade as Will twists in midair, angling his body so his back will take the brunt of the impact and tucking his chin down into his chest. The cat yowls as it tumbles back, the sound turning into an awful gurgle before cutting off. Its body falls down the steep mountain face. Ben only catches a short glimpse before it tumbles off the screen, but he can see that Will cut deep enough that its head is barely hanging on by a few tendons and muscle fibers. A thick streak of red smears the rock where it fell.

With a grunt, Will slams into the ground, sliding over the dirt and loose rocks for a moment before his body stills. He remains there for several seconds before ever so slowly, he turns onto his side. Pressing his left hand into the ground, Will pushes himself up, dragging his feet beneath his shoulders. As soon as he puts his weight onto his legs, he gives out and he topples back down.

Any relief Ben felt at his brother’s life-saving maneuver is swelled out by a pulse of fear when he sees why his brother can’t stand.

A duo of long cuts, so straight and deep it looks almost surgical, extends from the middle of Will’s thigh down to his ankle. Ben had been so busy watching his brother he’d been oblivious to the fact that the cat had gotten him.

Each breath Will takes has blood oozing from the laceration until the leg of his pants are soaked and glistening a deep, sullen red. He tries, and fails, again to rise to his feet. Even using the sword as a support, he loses his footing and crumbles, his weight kicking up a cloud of dust when he hits the rock.

“In a stunning turn of events, it seems that the outcome of these Games have already been determined…”

Get up, Ben thinks with every shred of desperation he has. Get up, Will.

Will sluggishly turns onto his back, and hoists himself upright with his legs stretched in front of him. It seems to take every bit of energy he has to shrug his jacket off, and slide it underneath his bleeding leg. He brazenly ties the sleeves around his thigh until his arms are straining and the blood flow slows. The makeshift tourniquet may save his life, but it’s only a matter of minutes before the damage is so permanent that he risks losing the limb altogether.

Again, using his sword for support, Will heaves himself to his feet. He wobbles again, and Ben feels his heart rise into his throat before he steadies himself. Will straightens, and takes a few limping steps towards the final ascent. He’d been so busy tending to his wound, worrying about the big cats, that he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps. Ben, too wrapped up in concern for his brother, hadn’t checked the other video feed, hadn’t heard the commentators call out in shock—

When Four crashes into Will and sinks a knife into his shoulder.

Ben, his father, the city square, the entirety of District Two, cry out in collective shock as Will and Four go down, Four pinning him with a roar so inhuman it sends a chill skittering over Ben’s bones.

It’s worse, so much worse than he’d imagined.

Blood sprays, and Will’s fingers splay when he hits the rock. His sword clattering too far for him to reach. Ben barely processes what he sees as he fights to remain upright. He feels the cameras in the square narrow in on him. He can’t give out. Not now.

Will rolls, flipping Four off of him and onto the ground, wrenching the knife in his shoulder free in the process. His blood drips down the blade as Four angles it in front of himself, his own arm shredded, likely from his encounter with those big cats. Will slowly climbs to his knees, beaten and bloody and entirely at a disadvantage. The blood, the dirt—he looks more animal than human when he bares his teeth.

Ben’s never seen anything like it. Anything so unearthly, so primal and raging.

Four leaps again, and Will leans down. As Four descends on him, Will straightens, and there’s a clang of metal on metal.

It takes a moment for Ben to understand what he sees.

But there’s Will, knife in hand, his face red with the effort it takes to keep Four from landing another blow. He’d lost his knife in the avalanche. He’d seen it.

How long had Will kept a knife hidden in his boot, waiting for a moment such as this to use it?

Will manages to deflect what would have been a life-ending blow, but they topple again. Four bellows as Will’s blade plunges into his forearm and twists. The shrieking of Four, coupled with the spray of blood, sends a chill weaving down Ben’s spine.

Move, move, move!

Four’s free hand slams into Will’s face hard enough to crack bone, and Will stumbles back, blood gushing.

Will just grunts, his brow bunching in pain and concentration.

Every part of Ben shakes.

Four punches his face again and the sound fracks from Ben, “Will.”

Four yanks his arm free of Will’s knife, blood spraying like rain as he slashes at Will. He catches Four’s wrist in the follow-through with both hands, pinning his arm across his body. Four swings with his free hand, the punch easily dodged this time by Will.

They stare at each other for long, uncounted moments, nothing between them but howling wind and heavy, pained panting.

Then Will does the last thing Ben expects him to.

He headbutts Four.

Will releases Four’s arm as he staggers towards the edge of the peak, right towards where the long-toothed cats stalk in wait. The blow proves disorienting enough, and though Four swings his arms wildly to regain his balance, he takes one step back too far back and plummets.

He screams as he falls, but it goes hauntingly quiet when he hits.

The impact of Four’s body on the stone is heard across the nation. They wait for the cannon, but there’s nothing.

The mutts attack.

Will sinks to his knees.

Ben clutches the rope so tightly his knuckles whiten. It could be minutes, it could be hours, before the cannon booms at last.

Will looks to the side, his eyes finding the camera as if he’s known precisely where it was the entire time. Something like relief shines there, overpowered by pain and fury and something feral as the announcer declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the fifty-fourth Hunger Games, William Miller—the tribute of District Two!”

Two days later, Will’s final interview in the Capitol airs. Before now, he’s been kept keenly away from the cameras, and it becomes clear why the moment Ben sees him for the first time since his final glimpse in the arena. He wears a sharp grey suit, but any evidence of his injuries on his face have been wiped away. Whether by makeup or surgical alteration, Ben can’t tell. His skin is smooth and pristine, unmarred by bruises or cuts or even the faintest scar.

The crowd breaks into applause as Will is presented. He gives a winning smile, but the haunted glow is still there. He still looks a little too much like a cornered animal. His stylist is praised for his masterful capture of Will’s strength, physique, and iron-willed character.

Will sits in the victor’s chair like he was born for it. Maybe he was. He views the highlights with the rest of the nation, and answers his interviewer’s questions with grace.

“While you were there, in the arena,” says the host. “Was there any one thing that kept you going?”

Will seems to think on it for a moment, working his jaw over before he answers, “My brother. The whole time… I just wanted him to know that I love him.”

The audience croons about how strong and brave he is. Ben feels himself swell with pride.

He wants to be like Will one day, he thinks.

The wait for the train is its own agony.

District Two is nearest to the Capitol, but operations there don’t start until late in the morning on a good day. With the conclusion of the Games so fresh, it seems they need a few extra hours to get moving.

At last, the train rolls into the station late in the afternoon. No one comments on how Ben stood there, waiting for almost the whole day as more and more citizens of Two arrive to welcome their newest victor. They chatter amongst themselves, clearing space for Ben’s father as he arrives at last, fresh off his shift as the town’s head Peacekeeper.

As the train crawls to a halt, the voices around Ben die down, awaiting with bated breath for Will to show himself. Ben feels like he’s about to burst from his own skin with the anticipation—

The doors open, and there he is.

Will’s eyes snap to Ben’s almost instantly. The relief that cleaves through him almost knocks him to his knees.

Ben thinks it might have, had Will not leaped down and ran to him.

Will opens his arms, and Ben finds his way home.

Will remembers every face of every tribute in that godforsaken place.

The ones he killed directly haunt him the most.

He kept count of many things in the arena. The minutes that turned into hours that turned into days away from home… away from Ben. The number of breaths he still counted himself lucky to take. But most poignant of all was those faces. Each one, their faces as they died, had been etched into his memory. Every time he blinks, he sees them.

Ten. He killed ten of them.

The train barely makes a creak as it speeds over the railway. The ride from the Capitol to District Two isn’t long—barely an hour.

Though he grew up in one of the “wealthy” districts, there is a certain elegance to Capitol wares Will thinks he’s going to miss. He relishes in every moment he has left, wresting back thoughts of death and killing and betrayal.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it was Ben that got him through the worst of it in the arena. But that hadn’t been the whole truth, either. It was the thought of how he could redeem himself after so much tragedy, inflicting so much pain on others. He couldn’t do that if he let himself die in the arena.

How did Ben—little Benny, who perhaps wasn’t so little anymore but would always be to Will—see him now, at the end of it all? What could he say that would make all the violence, all the killing, right.

He didn’t know how, but he would do it. Will would make sure to see it done, no matter what it took.

Will is barely formulating what he can say to his brother when he feels the breaks engage on the train. All too soon, just like that, he’s back home… whatever home is, now. Sure, he’ll have the house in Victor’s Village and of course his family would be allowed to live with him, but the concept seems too foreign, now. He suspects it’ll take some time to adjust to that.

His mentor—a victor from about ten years ago, beckons him forward. Will’s legs are surprisingly shaky as he rises to his feet. Outside, he can hear the district already clapping, cheering for him. He tries to imagine Ben there, tries to pretend that his brother will be happy to see him, that he’ll be happy to see Ben.

The doors open.

Light floods the train car, and Will almost lifts a hand to block the sun. The initial surge of stimulus is overwhelming. The light, the sound, the unrelenting heat of the mountains. Will blinks hard to adjust his eyes.

As if by gravitational pull, he sees him.

His eyes find Ben’s, almost an exact mirror of his own. His brother’s eyes are wide, his face broken into a grin so wide it’s a wonder his skin hasn’t split.

That’s all it takes.

Will leaps down from the train car and runs. Every thought, every doubt, every word flees his mind as he takes in the sight of his brother. Healthy and whole and alive.

Ben’s there to meet him. They collide, and Will finds his way home.

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #william miller #william ironhead miller #ben miller #benny miller #pls god let this post to the tag on the first try #i don't want to redo all the formatting #triple frontier fic

43 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 4 years ago

Text

Star Trek Villains Who Actually Had a Point

https://ift.tt/3t8D3MQ

This article contains spoilers for various parts of the Star Trek franchise.

Last fall, airing just a few weeks apart, both Star Trek and Star Wars debuted season premieres of new streaming TV episodes in which the heroes of each show had to fight a giant, legless worm-monster. In Star Trek: Discovery’s “That Hope Is You Part 1,” it was the deadly Tranceworm, while The Mandalorian’s “Chapter 9: The Marshall” had the murderous Krayt Dragon. The differences between the Final Frontier and the Faraway Galaxy could not have been made clearer by these dueling beasts: in Mando, the plot involved killing the monster by blowing up its guts from the inside, while in Disco, Book taught Michael Burnham how to make friends with it.

The Trek universe deals with the concept of evil a little differently than many of its famous genre competitors. There is no Lex Luthor of the Federation. Palpatine doesn’t haunt the planet Vulcan. The Klingons have no concept of “the devil.” (At least in The Original Series.) This isn’t to say Trek doesn’t have some very memorable Big Bads, it’s just that most of the time those villains tend to have some kind of sympathetic backstory. Even in the J.J. Abrams films!

So, with that in mind, here’s a look at seven Star Trek villains who maybe weren’t all bad, and kind of, even in a twisted way, had a point…

Harry Mudd

In Star Trek: The Original Series, Harry Mudd was presented as a straight-up con-man, a dude who seemed to be okay with profiting from prostitution (in “Mudd’s Women”) and was also down with marooning the entire crew of the Enterprise on a random planet (in “I, Mudd”). He’s not a good person. Not even close. But, he does make a pretty could case against Starfleet’s lack of planning. In the Discovery episode “Choose Your Pain,” Mudd accuses Starfleet of starting the war with the Klingons, and, as a result, putting the larger population of the galaxy at risk. “I sure as hell understand why the Klingons pushed back,” Mudd tells Ash Tyler. “Starfleet arrogance. Have you ever bothered to look out of your spaceships down at the little guys below? If you had, you’d realize that there’s a lot more of us down there than there are you up here, and we’re sick and tired of getting caught in your crossfire.”

Seska

At a glance, Seska seems pretty irredeemable. She joins the idealistic Maquis but is secretly a Cardassian spy. Once in the Delta Quadrant, she tries to screw Voyager as much as possible, mostly by hooking up with the Kazon. That said, Seska is also someone caught up in hopelessly sexist, male-dominated power structures and does what she has to do to gain freedom and power. The Cardassian military isn’t exactly enlightened nor kind, so the fact that Seska was recruited into the Obsidian Order in the first place certainly explains her deceptive conditioning. You could argue that Seska could have become a better person once she had Captain Janeway as an ally, but, the truth is, she was still a spy caught behind enemy lines, but suddenly without a government to report back to. So, Seska did what she had to do to survive, even lying to Chakotay about having his child. The thing is, again, outside of Starfleet, Seska is at the mercy of the sexist machinations of the Kazon, so again, she’s kind of using all the tools at her disposal to gain freedom. Had Voyager not gone to the Delta Quadrant, and Seska’s villainy may have been more clear-cut. But, once the reason for her espionage becomes moot, her situation gets more desperate, and, on some level, more understandable.

Charlie Evans

In The Original Series, Kirk loves telling humans with god-like powers where to shove it. In “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” he phasers Gary Mitchell and buries him under a rock. But, in “Charlie X,” when teenager Charlie Evans also gets psionic powers, Kirk does a less-than-a-great job of being a good role model. For most of the episode, Kirk tries to avoid become Charlies’ surrogate parent, and when he does try, it results in an embarrassing overly macho wrestling match featuring those famous pink tights.

How Star Trek: The Next Generation’s Killing of Tasha Yar Became an Awkward Mistake

By Joseph Baxter

Why Star Trek Needs More Characters Like Captain Lorca

By Lacy Baugher

Charlie was a deeply troubled human being, and there was no justification for him harassing the crew and Janice Rand in specific. But, angry, kids like Charlie have to be helped before it gets to this point. Kirk mostly tried to dodge the adult responsibility of teaching Charlie the ropes, and only when some friendly aliens arrived, did everyone breathe a sigh of relief. But, don’t get it twisted, those aliens are basically just social workers, doing the hard work Starfleet is incapable of.

The Borg Queen

Because the origin of the Borg Queen has dubious canonical origins, all we were told in Voyager is that she was assimilated as a child, just like Seven of Nine. As Hugh and Jean-Luc discuss in the Picard episode “The Impossible Box,” basically, everyone assimilated by the Borg, is, on some level, a victim. The Queen was never presented this way in either First Contact or Voyager, but, at one point, writers Judith and Garfield Reeves-Stevens had pitched a story for Enterprise which would have featured Alice Krige as a Starfleet medical technician who made contact with the Borg.

Because both Alice Krige and Susanna Thompson played the Borg Queen, it’s possible the backstories of each Queen is different and that maybe they aren’t the same character. Either way, assuming the Borg Queen retains some level of autonomy relative to other drones (likely?) then she’s pretty much making the best of a bad situation. In fact, at the point at which you concede the Borg are unstoppable, the Queen’s desire to let Picard retain some degree of his independence as Locutus could scan as a kind of mercy. The Borg Queen actually thinks she and the Borg are making things simpler for everyone. And with both Data and Picard, she tried to make that transition easier and, in her own perverse way, fun too.

Ossyra

Yes, we saw Ossyra feed her nephew to a Trance worm, and we also saw her try to kill literally everyone on the USS Discovery, including Michael Burnham. However, in the middle of all of that, Ossyra did try to actively make peace between the Emerald Chain and the Federation. And, most tellingly, it was her idea. Ossyra also pointed out one of the most hypocritical things about the United Federation of Planets: the fact that Starfleet and its government rely on capitalism without actively acknowledging it. Essentially, Ossyra was saying that the ideals of the Federation are great, but the Federation has all kinds of dirty little secrets it doesn’t want to talk about. In her meeting with Admiral Vance, pretty much everything she said about the Federation was true—and her treaty proposal was fair.

Q’s Return on Star Trek: Picard Season 2 will Follow “Significant Trauma”

By Joseph Baxter

Why Star Trek: Discovery Needed to Write Out Its Klingons

By Lacy Baugher

The only snag: she wouldn’t turn herself over as a war criminal. Considering the fact that the Federation made Mirror Georgiou into a Section 31 agent, despite her war crimes in another universe, this also seems hypocritical. Why not just do the same thing with Ossyra? Tell everyone she’s going to prison for war crimes, but make her a Section 31 agent instead? Missed opportunity!

Khan

Khan was genetically engineered by wacko-a-doodle scientists at the end of the 21st Century. At some point on Earth, he became a “prince” with “power over millions.” But, as Kirk notes in “Space Seed,” there were “no massacres” under Khan’s rule, and described him as the “best of the tyrants.” Kirk’s take on Khan in “Space Seed” is basically that Khan was an ethical megalomaniac. Most of what we see in “Space Seed” backs this up. Khan doesn’t actually want to kill the crew, and stops short of doing it when he thinks he can coerce them instead. His only focus is to gain freedom for himself and his exiled fellow-Augments. In the Kelvin Universe timeline, Khan’s motivations are similar. Into Darkness shows us a version of Khan who, again, is only cooperating with Section 31 because he wants freedom for his people. Sure, he’ll crush some skulls and crash some starships to get to that point, but in his dueling origin stories, Khan is, in both cases interested in freedom for his people, who, are by any definition, totally persecuted by the Federation.

Khan is still a criminal in any century. But, we only really think of him as a villain because he goes insane in between the “Space Seed” and The Wrath of Khan. The Khan of The Wrath is not the same person we met in “Space Seed.” As he tells Chekov, “Admiral Kirk never bothered to check on our progress.” Had Kirk sent a Starfleet ship to drop in on Khan and his “family” every once in awhile this whole thing could have been avoided. In the prime timeline, Khan goes nuts because Ceti Alpha VI explodes and nobody cares. In the Kelvin timeline, Admiral Marcus blackmails him. Considering that Khan is Star Trek’s most famous villain, it’s fascinating that there are a million different ways you can imagine him never getting as bad as he became. In “Space Seed,” he and Kirk basically part as friends.

In “Encounter at Farpoint,” Q accuses humanity of being “a savage child race.” And walks Jean-Luc Picard through the various atrocities committed by humanity, through the 21st Century. Picard kind of shrugs his shoulders and says, “we are what we are and we’re doing the best that we can.” When we talk about the philosophy of Star Trek, we tend to give more weight to Picard’s argument: the idea that by the 24th century, humanity has become much better, in general than it is now. But, the other side of the argument; that there’s a history of unspeakable violence and cruelty baked into the existence of humanity, is given less weight. We don’t really listen to Q when he’s putting humanity on trial, because we can’t see his point of view.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

But, because Q wasn’t a one-off character, and because he said “the trial never ends” in the TNG finale, he’s actually not really a villain at all. Q exists post-morality, as we can imagine it. His notions of ethics are far more complex (or less complex) than we can perceive. Q is one of those great Star Trek characters who is actually beyond reproach simply because we have no frame of reference for his experiences or point of view. In Voyager, we also learned that even among other members of the Q Continuum, Q was kinder, with a more humanitarian approach to what he might call “lesser” lifeforms. If Q is villainous, it’s because of our definitions of villainy. Of every Star Trek antagonist, Q is the best one, for the simple fact that he’s not a a villain at all.

Which Star Trek villains do you think had a point? Let us know in the comments below.

The post Star Trek Villains Who Actually Had a Point appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3eIGmoq

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

6 notes · View notes

cecilspeaks · 5 years ago

Text

161 - The Space Race

Space, the final frontier. The womb, the first frontier. Somewhere between those two, the ocean. Welcome to Night Vale.

I’m excited today for the annual Night Vale Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. Yess, that’s right! As we’ve done every year on this day, we will be devoting our entire episode to a scientific narrative that is sure to delight both the young and the young at heart. And also those who have stolen young hearts and incorporated them into your flesh sacks. For this year’s Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentations, we will be looking into the history of – the Space Race. Mmm! My husband Carlos has been helping me research this. Thanks, honey! And so it should be airtight and without error.

Now, the Space Race truly began in 1792, at a garden party hosted by the first Duke of Luftnarp one lazy July weekend. A bored group of noble people were sitting out in the garden in all their ruffles and wigs, looking absolutely fashionable for the time, and absolutely ridiculous to modern eyes. And soon the conversation turned, as it often does in parties, to how much they all hated the moon. “Stupid moon!” said one. “Lousy orb!” added another. “Why, I loathe that sky rock!” said a third. Then they started to throw things at the moon to demonstrate how much they hated it. But none of the objects they threw, not the champagne glasses, nor the decorative party masks, nor the dangerous knives, came anywhere near the moon. Most of the hurled items followed the tedious arch of gravity back into the party with mixed results for the attendees, some of whom required immediate medical attention. “This won’t do,” said the first Duke of Luftnarp. “We must hit the moon square on with our objects of derision. “Let us endeavour,” said the Prince of York, “to build an object that can make it all the way to the moon, and smack that awful rock right across its ugly surface. The first one to do so will show that they indeed hate the moon the most.” There was general cheering to that remark, along with some moaning from those who had been struck by the falling objects. And thus, the Space Race was born.

And now the news. As I’m sure we’ve all been following, there is a presidential race going on. Yes, Night Vale may be a small town, mostly preoccupied with the banal goings on of our day to day life, but we are not unaware of national stories. Just like any other town, we have our own opinions on the presidential race. And spirited debates are held weekly in the Compressed Spine amateur boxing gym. Winner is generally by knockout, although occasionally a winner has to be chosen by points. I myself am a strong supporter of Spotless Tony, who I think has the best positions including banning guns, legalizing writing utensils, and Medicare for Spotless Tony. A-a program that would provide comprehensive health care to himself. Others may support Heartbreak Maggie, and I do see the arguments for her. She has the most number of arms, the most number of eyes, and her singing voice literally kills. In any case, I think we can all get together on one thing: Old Towel Leonard has got to go. Get him out of here, ugh! Old Towel Leonard! This has been the news.

And now traffic. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. This world has grown so tired. This world has grown restless. This world has less color and more dust. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. Get to that other world by any means, pilgrims. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? What is anyone without a destination? You must lift yourself up to that other place. Gather your supplies, pilgrims. Strip this world bare in order to raise yourself up. Take every scrap around you and put it toward that other world. This is all that matters. It’s all that matters to you, and so it is all that matters. Aloft, pilgrims. You have done it. from here, the sweep of the universe presents itself. Cast down your eyes, pilgrims. See below you the world you left behind, the world you stripped bare to make this journey. There was found all the conditions of life. Up here is only a cold, lonely hollow. Why did you ever feel you needed to leave? But oh well, ooooh well. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? This has been traffic.

Let us know continue with our Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. The history of the Space Race. The Space Race went on through the 18th and 19th centuries, with the rich and poor alike trying to be the first to successfully throw something at that horrible moon. The most obvious methods were quickly tried and discarded. Catapults only managed to cause collateral damage to neighboring homes, gunpowder only backfired on the scientists involved, often quite literally. One woman, the Arch Dutchess of the Motley Meadows, believed that she could reach the moon through dreaming. Every night, she performed a series of meditations that allowed her to have lucid control of her dreams. In those dreams, she would fly upward, each time getting a little closer to the dumb old moon. It was her belief that when she reached the moon in her dream, she would attain the same goal in real life. But the moment she finally touched the moon in her dream, she awoke to find herself in the stifling darkness of a coffin. It seems she had died several decades before, but still she dreamed. Having ascertained that there was no way back from the grave, she performed the meditations and fell into one final endless lucid dream. And that basically sums up the Space Race until 1953.

Now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Borders Books and Music. Remember the old days when your legs were shorter, but your life stretched longer? When the shadows were less dark and the lights less bleary. When the internet was a secret club and not a poisoned chalice. When energy was a bottomless thing, not a quickly siphoned tank. We are what once was. Look on our works, both books and music, ye mighty, and peruse. Borders Books and Music. What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be. This has been a word from our sponsors.

The lawsuit in the case of the estate of Franklin Chen versus the city of Night Vale continues apace. The suit is currently in the discovery phase, which has been made difficult by the fact that the apparent murderer of Franklin Chen, Hiram McDaniels, has not been seen in Night Vale for years. Not since… the incident. And all records in Night Vale are top secret. So every time the lawyers for the Chen family try to see one, they have to dodge the laser grid and tank darts that surround every filing cabinet in City Hall. Those lawyers have filed an injunction against the city to try to force them to turn the laser grids off, but as the official Night Vale motto, written by the town founders hundreds of years ago clearly states: “Laser grids or death”. More news on this lawsuit as news is made by this lawsuit.

Back to the Space Race. Affairs continued with little success until 1953, when the United States, descendants of the Prince of York, decided that enough was enough and established the North American Slap the Moon Agency, or NASA, dedicated to developing the skills and technology needed to give that horrible orbiter what for. Meanwhile, the Russians, descendants of the Duke of Luftnarp, started their own agency designed to kick the moon in the you know what. And so a bet between two bored aristocrats became a global race, as they both tried to be the first to aim missiles at that sad little planetoid. To represent us, we chose Neil Armstrong. He was a test pilot, and he reportedly hated the moon more than anyone. Above his bed, he kept a National Geographic picture of the moon. The caption: “Can this celestial trash ever be put in its place?”, which he had drawn a huge red X through. Below that, he wrote: “Darn you, moon!” Which was the strongest language that existed in the 1950’s.

Finally, all was prepared. Neil Armstrong and his fellow astronauts boarded the rocket. All was quiet. Then, all was loud. More soon, but now for this week’s word jumble.

The following nonsense words will, when the letters are rearranged, produce a simple phrase we all know well. Here we go. Before I went into the cave, the prospect of the cave became so monstrous in my head that I dreamt about it for weeks. In my dreams I was just outside of the cave and I knew that the moment I stepped into the cave, my life would be over. But I also knew I could not delay my journey into the cave. I shook and shook with fear, and in my shaking awoke myself. This happened night after night. Then came the day of our expedition and to my horror, as I stood outside the cave, the same dread certainty came to me as soon as I stepped one foot into the crevice before me, my life would be over. I shook and shook, but I did not awaken, for I was not asleep but in the terrible dream we call life. So there it is. Just take those nonsense words apart and rearrange them into the phrase we’re looking for. If you think you have the answer, you probably do. Great job! Uh, before we go, the answer to last week’s jumble was: “Hop! The window shakes slyly, look here!” Which is, of course, the title to Dave Edgar’s new book of essays about block chains. This has been this week’s word jumble.

We near the end of our story on the Space Race. Neil Armstrong and his comrades hunched in this tiny capsule that absurdity of absurdities was about to be launched through void to lifeless rock. Sweat on his nose, sweat on his lips. Then sweat in his mouth. This was all unnecessary, the-the history of humanity did not require us to physically touch everything there is, but. Some drive made him willing to risk his life, the only life he would ever get, in order to go far away and then come back again. There was a sound. There was a fire! There was pressure! And then, there was an absence of pressure. And they were at the moon. The lander careened its way to the surface. Neil, sweat still on his face, placed one foot on the moon. “I have a small foot,” he said. “But humanity metaphorically has big feet. Biiiig huuuge metaphoric feet.” History would record and repeat these poetic words. Neil looked about him. He had done it. He had been the first one to smack into this disgusting space rock. All around was grey, and above that black. And within that, unnervingly distant blue and green. And then, Neil saw.

What Neil saw in a moment. But we really should, and we really must Go to the weather.

[“Have a Smoke” by Head Portals https://headportals.bandcamp.com]

Neil’s breath made shapes on the inside of his helmet. Some part of him felt that it was not even him on the moon, but that he was merely watching someone else’s body through a little window. That other him stepped forward and saw something truly odd. It was a house. Solidly built, two floors, a front door and gable windows. As he looked at it in disbelief, he realized that it was one of many. An entire town all cleverly camouflaged from above with grey and black mesh, so that it would appear through telescopes to be merely the awful boring surface of the awful boring moon. He was not the first one on the moon after all. Who had come before? He walked through the town, tho it appeared abandoned. He stood in the middle of the main square and he said, tho he would not be able to be heard through his helmet and the thin atmosphere: “Hello?” In every window appeared an animal. Dogs, cats, snakes, hamsters, and parrots. So many animals all watching him silently, regarding him from the windows of their little town. One cat, grey as the moon itself, hopped from her ledge and came over to him. “I am Barbara Emmeline Gwendolyn Sauss,” said the cat. “But you may call me Barb-E-Q –Sauss.” Neil said: “You can talk?” And then he said, “Well, apparently you can, I don’t know why I asked. The cat continued as though he had not spoken. “This is our city. We are the lost pets of your world. We are lost, because that is what we choose to be. We came here so we could be lost forever. Tell no one.” Neil didn’t know what to say. All of his training had been about zero-G maneuvering and the best way to hit the stupid moon when he got there. Nothing about how to interact with a cat that wanted him to keep a secret. “Please,” the cat repeated, and Neil nodded. Not knowing what else to do, he went back to the lander, climbed in, and looked at the other man who had made this journey with him. Lee Marvin looked back at him with gentle eyes. “Lee,” Neil said, “You’re not going to believe this!” “A secret lost pet city on the moon?” Lee said. “Well…” Neil said, “Uh… yes!” Lee nodded thoughtfully. “Better leave them to it then,” he said. “Probably better we keep this between us.” Lee did not look surprised. It seemed to Neil that maybe Lee was there precisely to ensure that this secret was kept. And so again Neil only nodded, and they made their preparations and left. As they launched, out of the tiny window, Neil could just barely see thousands of animal eyes looking up at him. “I’ll keep your secret,” he whispered, “I’ll keep your secret. And he did. He never told anyone. Neither did Lee. No one knows this story. No one has ever heard it.

This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Correct placement from right to left: salad fork, soup spoon, salad spoon, bread knife, bowie knife, meat thermometer, entrée fork, and finally, the dessert claws.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #episode 161 #the space race

88 notes · View notes

lisbeibeth · 5 years ago

Note

I never actually watched Star Trek (any of it, Star Wars either for that matter), but I've got the impression that it's a kind of softer, wholesome sci-fi story, and while Tarantino is a talented movie-maker, he's anything but soft and wholesome. I kind of feel it'll be disastrous if this really happens.

You’re probably gonna regret asking, because there is so much to say about Star Trek in all its incarnations! It’s like, the reason Steve Rogers, in TWS, only had Star Wars crossed out on his list, is because there’s too much Trek! I haven’t watched all of it, but I’ve watched A LOT.

Basically, the Star Trek in question (which has, inexplicably, been handed off to Tarantino, of all people) is the reboot of The Original Series, which ran for three seasons between 1966 to 1969. That’s the one which introduced all the iconic characters, like James T. Kirk (William Shatner), Spock (Leonard Nimoy), Leonard “Bones” McCoy (Deforest Kelley), Uhura (Nichelle Nichols), Sulu (George Takei), and so on. Nowadays it seems cheesy to modern eyes, but at the time it was a revelation - a scifi show describing a Utopian society which had no more war, no more conflict, their lives were all about exploration and discovery.

"Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission: to explore strange, new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before."

It was a scifi show which introduced something unheard of, called the Prime Directive, which meant that they couldn’t interfere with pre-space travel civilisations. It wasn’t perfect - that ‘no man’ in the tagline shows quite a lot about the attitudes towards women in the show. Also, the women’s uniforms were . . eh. But at least they showed their rank in fricking Starfleet, unlike the fricking shit they put in Star Trek into Darkness (rants for several pages about the uniforms in that movie, sending everyone to sleep).

In Star Trek, you had a black woman on tv in 1966, who wasn’t playing a maid - and I’m quoting Martin Luther King, who used this argument to persuade Nichelle Nichols (Uhura) not to leave the show after realising that in those early years, she was nothing more than a telephone operator (in space). But she was still an inspiration to MLK, to his children, to many little black girls like Whoopi Goldberg, for example.

Yes, there was racism in the network and among the producers, the treatment of women was abysmal, and it took Star Trek Beyond, a movie released in 2016, to show some LGBT+ characters.

But there was the utopian ideal which was always present. The reboot, starting with ‘Star Trek’ in 2009 didn’t manage to destroy that, though JJ Abrams did his best. Don’t get me wrong, I love the new actors (RIP Anton Yelchin, a really good Chekov), but in the first two movies there’s very little of the old utopian spirit.

But Star Trek Beyond is different. It could be an episode of the show writ large, or one of the movies which followed the original tv show (this is a biased list - but IMO the only ones of those worth watching are 2, 4, 6, with Star Trek 2 (The Wrath of Khan) being the real masterpiece among them.

But apparently, Beyond didn’t make ALL THE MONEYS. So now we have to give it to the edgelord himself.

To quote Khan himself: “He tasks me . . .”

#anon answered #star trek #i could write so much more #help

6 notes · View notes

ithinkthingsaboutstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Ode to Odo (DS9)

Hey my pride month people

i Have been trying to come up with something to post for pride month and i finally found it, a deep dive textual analyse of my new fav space goo. I will be looking at star teaks changeling and how the character has been show to be asexual or at lest how it was coded that way intentional or unintentional this argument is worth exploring.

SPOILERS for a show that’s over 20 yrs old, but i’m not one to judge

let me start off by saying i have not finished watching DS9 i am on the first half of season 7, so there my be some holes here. secondly i will be looking at how the character can be looked at as asexual and how his relationships are shown and formed under this lens.

A no nonsense detective who almost always gets his felon. The master of neutrality in hell on earth, the keeper and pursuer of justice in any and all forms. This description fits just about fits about a million hetero male characters that tend to fall under the sheriff detective trope. this trope in and of itself is not a bad thing per-say by there are fundamental issues and criticisms that can be made,

usually characters like this are often presented as having disdain or at lest disrespect for most people impractically women, they are also either useless or corrupted and need to be overthrown or pushed out. they are hetero men who hate there wife or prey on young women around them that the hero has to save.

Now with all of that being said that brings me to Odo, this character could have very easily have fallen under this trope trap, he is set up as a lone frontier lawman with basically unlimited power over the station (security wise, and before the series starts) with the only eyes on him being cardassian oppressors so he could have very early could have done anything he wanted if he kept order (the aforementioned preying on women) . but he choose to be as just and fair as possible given the situation.

I bring this up to show how he is set apart form this trope, but this set up to his character also has some interesting implications to his sexuality (asexuality in this case)

for example this scene for ep 2x08

(i will be looking at 1.06 - 1.40 but the scene is gold and i was unable to shorten it)

youtube

now this moment is his first meeting with what became his best friend (spoiler,and then girlfriend)

this moment shows two things

1) - he is not naive about sex, as he identifies how his words sound after the fact

2)- its not something that crosses his mind as a possibility for him or at lest as something he would ever ask for

3)- Kira is not aware of his intentions to interrogate her until after this moment specifically after his apology to her, so it shows that he is every different from other men she has encountered in this hell hole (which she say at 3.40-3.55)

This scene on its own dose not show an asexual character but it defiantly has elements and traits of one (but given the context of the scene it is understandably overlooked)

now this second scene shows a more relaxed version of Odo

(i will be looking at 0.00 - 1.35)

this shows his order but it also shows is care and tentativeness that is not seen by Kira,

youtube

that is an important detail, she dose not see him in a romantic light

BUT

it is never shown to be her fault

rather it is shown as Odo being unable to connect his feelings to his actions in a clear away (a common problem for asexual people trying to be in relationships with non asexual people) not out of unwillingness but out of lack of experience and overall uncertainty of how those experience and relationships usually work.

later in this ep Kira dose get to together with another man,

(side note, Odo dose not make his feelings for Kira her problem rather he accepts her choice and reluctantly moves on.)

After one of my fav Odo scenes in ds9, (looking at 0.00 to 1.30ish)

youtube

now to get to my point, it is not just Odo and how he views himself but how others, Quark in this case view Odo

1) - quark doesn't believe Odo’s feeling were real until now

2)- that Odo has no passion therefore was unable to show certain types of love

3)- that Odo is cold and unfeeling because of this

4)- the ‘someone like me’ can be taken in different ways about him being a changeling, but that is not the focus of the ep so yes that is a good argument but i think it has more to do with his overall demeanour, a quiet man who dose not express himself in a passionate way and therefore sees himself as unworthy of the love that he feels,

so this shows a man struggling to come to terms with his feeling but not in the typical ‘i am unlovable’ way though that is still presented it is less to to do with the things he has done (that is normally used for the scared man trope) and has more to do with how he feels incomplete as a person because of inner qualities and traits he feels he lacks (passion, romantic’s ect)

and finally my last example is from when he is in a relationship with Kira

i am looking at the first 30 seconds

youtube

this right here shows his whole approach to there relationship

1)- he sits with her even though he dose not eat

2)- he dose not need to be there but he enjoys being there

3) - he may not get the exact same thing out of this experience she dose but he enjoys it all the same

4)- she tells him inadvertently that its ok that he dose not take part and that if he is uncomfortable that she understands

5)- he tells her point blank that it fine and that he is not uncomfortable because she is what make the experience enjoyable for him

so much asexual subtext here it hurts, it shows two people who care deeply about one another’s wants and needs and how one’s dose not override the other’s and that they clearly respect each-other and is the foundation of there whole relationship. That is all done in 20 seconds,

but i digress, I’m not saying that Odo is a perfect representation of asexually (don’t get me started on what the fuck happened with the fem changeling and ep 5x17)

but i can say that for the most part Odo could be very easily read as asexual and I personally do see him that way. As it show that an asexual person can have romantic agency, that lack of passion is not lack of feeling and that love and enjoyment can take many forms in a loving relationship.

#ds9 #odo #kira nerys #kira #deep space nine #deep space 9 #pride month #asexual #honestly the first 2 season of ds9 odo was just such a fucking asexual mood #like look at you go you funky little pile of goo #and kira is just so badass #but has a smile that makes flowers grow

5 notes · View notes

quirrel · 6 years ago

Text

I have some Jojo aus I’d really like to work on but I’m too busy or too lazy to do it so I’m just gonna dump them here (My English is terrible so please be nice asdfasdf)

Passione Dance Academy AU (Gionara) (All of them are two years older than they are in canon)

Note: I know nothing how dance academies work and I gotta learn before I write this but here’s what I got so far

Bruno and Abbacchio are teachers, Bruno teaches breakdance/hip hop and Abbacchio teaches ballet, they’re roommates, they’re not together as a couple yet but it’s mostly because Abba is a dumbass

Narancia lives with his uncle Formaggio (yes, uncle), they started to live together after Narancia’s mother died and his father neglected him, they don’t hate each other but Formaggio doesn’t really stay at home enough time to bond with Narancia, they also have like 5 cats

Fugo lives with Bruno and Abbacchio after his parents threw him away, but surprise! Fugo’s grandma is alive and well and she sends him cash for stuff he needs, she also visits him every now and then so his family won’t find out

Mista lives alone in a tiny apartment, he befriended the family of 6 mice that live in the air vent

Trish is the daughter of the headmaster Diavolo, they don’t really bond too much and mostly spends her time with her uncle Vinnegar

Giorno was adopted by Jonathan and Erina when he was 8 after Dio disappeared, he has a decent relationship with them and the rest of the Joestar but addresses Jonathan and Erina as his uncle and aunt rather and not as his parents (This will change as the story progresses)

Mista, Fugo, and Narancia study with Bruno while Giorno and Trish study with Abbacchio

I’m not really sure how the story would go because I want drama and romance and goofiness in it, I just know the three nerds saw Giorno and Trish in a performance made by the school, they don’t really talk to each other until one day after classes the three nerds see Trish throwing hands with a dumbass (she was winning) and they go help her to take him down, she’s still a bit shaken after it so they ask her if she wants company till her uncle comes and gets her, that’s how their friendship starts, she mostly visits him in their classroom because her classes finish first, she knew Bruno because he visits her ballet classes to see Abbachio so he lets her stay and see the class, but one day she has to stay late fo rehearse some things with her classmates so the three nerds go to her class instead, that’s when they meet Giorno (Fugo already knew him, he also knew Trish too but only from sight cause they used to attend the same school), Narancia already thought Giorno’s perfomance was good in that show the school had but seeing it closer he thought it was the most beautiful thing he could’ve seen, thus start Narancia’s crush on Giorno and the shenanigans of a bunch of friends who love to dance

Also, I might involve mafia things in here too but I’m not sure yet asdasdfa

Reimi survived Kira’s attack AU

Everything is the same AU except Reimi never died

She was attacked by Kira, yes, but she and Rohan managed to survive, she has ugly scars in her back but that’s only it

Arnold also survives but he dies of old age

They never got to see Kira’s face, after leaving the hospital they stayed in Morioh for a couple of years and so, she still was Rohan’s babysitter, also baby Rohan considered Reimi his hero

Reimi still was a nervous wreck after the attack, so her parents decided to move from Morioh, it made baby Rohan sad but she and Reimi became pen pals for a while until their lifestyles started to take away their time to write cards

Reimi’s will to survive and strength to continue with her life after the attack gave her a stand, I still don’t have a name for it but it works like the cursed alley of Morioh, if Reimi is standing in a closed space/hallway she can activate her stand and drag someone’s soul to wherever the cursed hallway sends them

She became a private investigator and helped to solve a lot of cases, she also became some sort of vigilante, saving people with her stand

Years later she got a card from Rohan, where he told her he was moving to Morioh and would like to catch up with her, Reimi is happy to hear about her old friend, but also worried, because of all the disappearances in Morioh, she believes it might be connected to the one who attacked her when she was younger, so she takes this as an excuse to not only visit Rohan but to find out the truth about all the disappearances

She appears a bit after Rohan is introduced, I don’t know, I just like the idea of Rohan having an actual person he cares about, she’s like a big sister figure to him and everyone is super confused, Rohan is supposed to hate everyone and everything, seeing him getting along with a nice and gentle woman is so weird and confusing. I also like the idea of Reimi being super disappointed on him for treating everyone in Morioh the way he does. Rohan also never uses Heaven’s door on Reimi, not only due to respect to her (and because it gives them time to sit down and talk) but because he believes she knows nothing about stands, Reimi also doesn’t know everyone else has stands but she eventually finds out before Rohan can even tell her lol, also everyone else in Morioh never tells her Rohan also has a stand

The arc with Cheap Trick happens like it does but Reimi helps Rohan, finally revealing her stand to him (Rohan: You had a stand this whole time?! | Koichi: Wait, you didn’t know? | Rohan: DID YOU TELL KOICHI FIRST AND NOT ME?! | Reimi: Actually uh, everyone else knows about it | Rohan: *BETRAYED GASP*) Reimi also reveals her true intention for coming back to Morioh, so she finally informs the gang about the things she had been investigating

Touhou AU

Everyone has cute puffy dresses, Idk I just wanna draw the Jojo characters with Touhou aesthetics and all that jazz

Giorno is helped by a small kid the same way he helped that gangster when he was younger AU (All of them are seven years older than they are in canon) (I’m tempted to make it Gionara but I’m not really sure)

I’m not sure how it happens yet, but it happens, except Giorno is more present in that kid’s life and in the end he adopts the kid and everyone loves the small child *cries*

The entire Stone Ocean Story except Annasui is a woman and is actually nicer AU

Let’s call her Anne Sue to not make it too complicated

She ended up in jail after killing her ex-boyfriend, it was in self-defense but she panicked and ended up stabbing him more than she originally intended to, the jury ended up sending her to jail because of it

She and Jolyne don’t get along at first but after defeating their first enemy together they become friends, and as the story progresses they fall in love

She’s actually nicer and not creep like Annasui, she and F.F. become besties, Weather and her are like siblings, she also gets along with Hermes but there’s some rivalry between them after they both ended up in a tie after a competition of who can eat more chillis

She can be a bit bad tempered, especially when a situation becomes more and more stressful, but she’s usually good at keeping herself focused until whatever was going on is done

She likes to dismantle things too

She panics when she meets Jotaro and blurts out “Please let me marry your daughter!” Then regrets it because she never properly confessed to Jolyne before lmao

Jojo Macross AU (SheiTrish) (All of them are three years older than they are in canon)

I,,,,,,,,, Really love Macross Frontier,,,,,,

Trish is a famous Pop Star known across the entire universe, her stage name is “Mafia Queen” or something like that, her aesthetic changes a lot

Sheila E. is a pilot in training along Fugo, Mista and Narancia, they took the job to be in Trish’s concert so they can fly around and do some air acrobatics

Pericolo is Trish’s manager and he wants Trish to interact with more people her age in a normal way so he asks Sheila E. and the three nerds to hang out with Trish

Everything is a mess, not only the guys managed to embarrass themselves in front of Trish, they kinda made her uncomfortable, so Sheila (who hasn’t spoken too much from the beginning) ask Trish if she wanna go somewhere else without the nerds, Trish accepts and so they leave them behind

Sheila sends them a text later so they won’t worry (Also because she needs the job and doesn’t want Pericolo to think she kidnapped Trish)

The girls have fun and that's how the story starts

I still don’t have much on this one, except later in the story they find out Trish’s voice has the same power Ranka’s voice had and she ends up helping the pilots in order to defeat the [Enemy Alien space of turn]

#orange speaking #jjba #jjba au #vento aureo #diamond is unbreakable #stonce ocean #gionara

10 notes · View notes

page-of-tales · 6 years ago

Text

Frontier Medicine II

2k words

sequel to box clinic

The Ents and Zygaroon had never been friends. They had enough biological differences that they would rarely come into contact. Zygaroons breathed oxygen while the Ents metabolized fluorine. This distinctive difference alone kept them sequestered to different star systems. In addition, fluorine isn’t a particularly common element in an atmosphere so the Ents rarely colonized planets beyond constructing simple enclosed habitats on a few resource rich planets. Another contributing factor to the Ent’s general aversion to space travel

There is one exception to that notion, and that is the Progenitors as the Ents call them. Humans call them the Libenters for reference. From what remains of their civilization the latest hypothesis is that the Progenitors were a space faring race some millenia ago that eventually faded out into extinction. For the Ents the Progenitors are akin to religious icons. Half of their colonies are constructed on planets holding trace remains of the Progenitors for the sole purpose of archeological research. As the name suggests the Ents view the Progenitors as having a key hand in their history, the details of which are unclear to outsiders.

You can imagine the Ents delight when they heard news that an ancient Progenitor city had been discovered by miners. They rapidly set off en masse in a large fleet to investigate the ruins, in the process they chased off the miners. In short summary the planet was in a star system claimed by the Zygaroon. The Zygaroon didn’t take kindly to the intrusion and attacked. The Ents dead set on the Progenitor ruins declared war. Skirmishes erupted along their borders, and neither side yielded the other any advantages. Both parties had attempted to ambush the other by circumventing through Federation space, and instead ended up spotting each other in a surprise encounter and having a running space battle that stretched across several star systems. As a human observer would put it, “The neighbors were having a tussle in my yard.”

Davi had to fight back a guffaw. The embellishment to the memo had caught him off guard. The line sounded familiar, maybe a quote from a drama. A timer notification popped up on his screen and he minimized the files. Davi took a moment to take a glance to his left and to his right as he sat upright behind the desk. On his right sat the Provincial Supervisor Theseus, leaning back in his chair to stretch long lanky arms. On his left sat the military liaison, Lieutenant Commander or was it Lieutenant Colonel, Akers was sitting reviewing some data on her screen.

Around the three a cadre of staff and aides milled about. There was a quiet buzz as they passed notes between themselves and the door to the room was swinging open constantly. The lights began to dim as the meeting began and the voices died down. One by one a projector beamed images of the System and Planetary leadership figures from across the province onto the far wall as communication was established. Light years of distance cut to a few microseconds of lag, a miracle of hyperspace communications. Yet even with that convenience came the hassle of arranging the schedules of 15 individuals who had widely varying day and night cycles. That aspect of conferences would never change.

The last connection was made and for a moment the room was silent giving Davi time to look at the profile’s of the gathered leaders. Of the 12 local leaders 1 was non-human. 8 star systems were represented, for star systems that didn’t have more than 1 significantly populated planet the Planetary leadership and System representative were usually the same. Supervisor Theseus issued greetings and the transcriber began tapping on his keyboard signaling the start of the meeting. Sparing everyone’s time the topic of discussion was brought up immediately, the Ent-Zygaroon war, specifically the recent battle that had careened through Federation space. First off the broad strokes presented by the Lieutenant Major. A star chart was projected into the room and the liaison highlighted the intrusion points of the alien forces. Noting that the initial intrusions had been too far from any Federation force to prevent either fleet’s movement. Davi took his turn to note the Federation had logged a strong formal complaint to both governments, and was now moving to secure its border with both species. Elements of the Federation Fleet would be mobilized throughout the region, and further intrusions would be met with force. There was muted approval and easing of worry from the leadership.

Supervisor Thesues took the reins again and listed out some prepared guidelines for the leaders to follow. In general all they were asking was for inspection of current defenses, and for certain systems to prepare for disruptions as the Federation fleets moved through and about. The Ents military were to be given non-military assistance if requested, the Zygaroon to be ignored unless an emergency presented itself. The meeting was adjourned after a special communication line was established for any further requests or notifications in regard to the matter. After the last leader had logged off Davi let out a breath. The Lieutenant Captain flashed a grin at him, “You thought that was hard, here comes the media.”

The door to the office open and a surge of reporters with cameras flashing rushed in. Davi groaned under breath. He still had that Zygaroon to call. Today should be the day she was discharged from the clinic.

Flight Leader Tara stood at attention in front of the graves. It was a clear day, the sun high in the sky. At her request her flightmates had been buried in an open field. The tall yellow grass shorn to create a clearing in the center. Fresh turned dirt marking the site of the dead. Above the graves a pyramid of branches marked the site. The humans had made a good faith effort in the burial. Her flightmates had been cleaned, dressed in violet garments, and laid to rest with their weapons. A warrior’s burial. Tradition stated she wear battle wear, however only her survival suit had survived intact. At the very least her weapons, her pistols and blades, had been returned to her. For the moment it would do. Around her with heads bowed stood several dozen humans, friends of her rescuers. With the final resting rites intoned Tara lit the pyramid aflame.

As the pyramid burned itself down the humans came up to giver her condolences. This was a human tradition and she accepted their words silently. Last were her rescuers, the father and son. They didn’t say anything, merely standing beside her. Tara averted her eyes from the embers to look around. It was a good place to lay her comrades to rest, however momentary. When the war was over the bodies would be retrieved and laid to rest on their homeworlds. The humans had promised to watch over them until then and she knew they would hold to that debt.

At last she settled herself. She spoke through the translator. “We can go.”

Clark Woods waited for Tara in the waiting room of the Box Clinic. Today there were a few other individuals sitting around, waiting for appointments or here to have a doctor examine a weird mole on their back. Clark made small talk with the grocery manager, and to a parent of his son’s classmate. They were eager to ask questions about his new occupant, despite their inquiries he waived off any questions on his guest.

Tara in the meantime was stripped down and doing stretches for the holo doctor. Evaluating her today was one of the nurses from the team that had treated her that first night. The nurse was making some notes and asking questions about her health. Tara gave succinct answers. “Yes, her chest ached. It was a 4 on the pain scale. No, she wasn’t drowsy. No, she wasn’t allergic to anything on the planet yes. Yes, she was washing her wounds.” Fairly standard medical processing.

The nurse seemed satisfied and told her as much. There had been no complications with the surgery. At the end the nurse recommended Tara maintain a low level of activity making sure not to overexert heerself. She could pick up a package of various medications from the dispensary.

After the nurse disconnected there was only a brief pause before the diplomat stepped back into the room. He said hello to which Tara ignored as she put back on her clothes. He wasn’t put off by her silence and continued. The full script of the blood debt had been written up by the lawyers and he was here to orate the terms. She initially listened dutifully, however as he droned on she stopped listening. The stipulations were common sense and water tight, preventing her from inflicting harm or being deceptive in regards to her imprisonment. Tara hadn’t been looking for loopholes in her debt, and wouldn’t have taken advantage of them if she found any. To do so would have dishonored the spirit of the agreement and bring dishonor to herself. The diplomat finishes and apologizes for the delay, he continues by saying they have connected a communication to her people as promised. He points out that there is a minute delay because of the signal lag. He leaves the call button on the screen for Tara to initiate, before leaving the room. After taking a moment to groom herself Tara connects the call. An image screen opens on the wall, after a few minutes of silence the connection clicks and a Zygaroon voice comes in.

“This is Grand Overseer Maga. Report.”

“Flight Blue-243, Flightleader Tara. I was shot down in an Ent ambush and am being held prisoner on the Federation world Naranja.”

There was a long pause.

“I see. Are you being treated well?”

“Yes, the humans have provided medical treatment and adequate shelter. I owe them a life debt.”

Another long pause, one which seemed to keep going.

“Very well. Stay strong and persist Flightleader.”

With that the call disconnected leaving Tara feeling suddenly very isolated. Frankly the reaction of her people wasn’t surprising. Given her individual status as a prisoner of war her people couldn’t offer her much. Nor could she offer much to them in her wounded state. Fighting off the feeling of abandonment Tara turned and left the darkened room.

The drive back to the farm was quiet. Clark had seemed aware of her disconsoled mood, yet as always remained silent. Tara took the moment to look out at the passing scenery. Fields of crops. Of what nature she couldn’t quite determine. The fields seemed rather like an endless ocean, stretching to the horizon and with only the occasional copse of trees to differentiate the landscape. The quiet and monotony had an enchanting effect on the Zygaroon who only realized they had arrived at their destination when Clark pulled the truck into the driveway.

Tara’s cell was to be the unused spare bedroom. The bed had been modified to accompany her larger size and it now made the rest of the room look awkwardly small. The survival packages from her escape pod had been brought here and placed in the closet. Not that she needed anything from them. Clothes had been custom modified for her distinctly non-human appendages. The environment did not have any elements that were averse to her physiology. Bottles of vitamins were left untouched as her dietary needs were compatible with the humans.

Tara knew she should count herself lucky. Rather than being imprisoned she was essentially on vacation. It was… a conflicting thing to try and think about. Her schedule as a prison was loose, but regular. She rose a little after the sun had filled her room through the room’s sole window. In the morning she spent much of it maintaining the grooming standard of a warrior. She ate two meals with the humans. She would spend the day either walking the perimeter or resting in bed depending on the level of pain she was experiencing. In the evening she might play a game of Lilp against Clark or otherwise watch the sunset before heading to bed. The boredom felt much more in line with a prison camp.

She had asked how long Clark could expect to keep up this charade. His response had surprised her.

“The war won’t last more than a week.” Clark said with unwavering certainty.

“How long is a week?” Tara inquired, unable to bring herself to challenge the declaration.

“10 days.”

6 days had already passed since then.

#hfy #story #writing

5 notes · View notes

clefaiiiry · 7 years ago

Text

A Short Analysis on Cyrus

Discussions of Abuse, and mentions of Suicide and terrorism are below. If any of these are unsettling to you, it may be better to skip.

Google Docs Version

The Pokemon games have a long list of fun, interesting, and sometimes downright intimidating villains. The series also has a shaky relationship with the concept of abuse and how that affects an individual’s development and actions. So combining the two was only inevitable.

Up until Generation 4, the villains in Pokemon had never really had their backstories play such a vital part of understanding their motivations. Giovanni is a Yakuza boss out to make money, Archie and Maxie are environmental extremists, but Cyrus is on an entirely different level. Cyrus’ goal is to create a new universe, one where the human spirit does not exist.

(And yes, the focus here is on his characterisation in Platinum for multiple reasons but to keep it short, Platinum is the version I am most comfortable in discussing.)

Cyrus is driven by the desire to rid the world of strife. Strife is defined as “angry or bitter disagreement over fundamental issues.” As long as humanity exists in its current state, disagreements will always be an inescapable part of life.

A noble cause, but his actions are still morally corrupt. He manipulates his followers into complete unquestioning loyalty, organises terrorist attacks on natural landmarks, and steals Pokemon for the purpose of experimentation. But he justifies all of it in his mind, because it will all be worth it when he finally rids the world of suffering and strife.

He believes that strife is created by the human spirit. When the player meets him in Mt Coronet, he says:

“According to one theory, Mt. Coronet is where the Sinnoh region began. In a newly created world... A world where only time flowed and space expanded... There should have been no strife. But what became of the world? Because the human spirit is weak and incomplete, strife has spread... This world is being ruined by it... I find this state of affairs deplorable…”

To him, spirit and emotions are the weakness of humanity. Anger makes us act violently, sorrow leaves us wallowing in self pity, even positive emotions like joy or love only serve to cloud our judgement. If we were not shackled to the weight of our emotions, humanity would surely flourish. At least, that is Cyrus’ belief.

Cyrus acts as if he is above this, as if his emotions do nothing to affect his behaviour, but he is just as driven by his emotions as everyone else is. But because he doesn’t allow himself to feel the good along with the bad, it only leads to a self-destructive spiral that only further proves his own hypothesis to himself.

But why is it that he is so thoroughly convinced that the human spirit is to blame for strife?

There’s a house on Route 228, past the Resort Area on the way up to Stark Mountain where you find an old man who will tell you about his grandson. Even though it is not explicitly stated that the man is related to Cyrus, most people are in agreement that it is his grandfather.

The house is so out of the way from the rest of the game that most people won’t even bother to get that far. First, you have to beat the Champion and unlock the Battle Frontier. Then you have to see every Pokemon in Sinnoh to unlock the National Dex. Then you have to pass through most of the Routes in the Battle Area and go on a damn hike around Route 228 just to get to the guy’s house. It is because of this that Cyrus’ motivation is often confused with that of his Diamond/Pearl or anime counterparts, wherein the whole ‘Cyrus wants to become a God’ thing comes from. This is not present in Platinum.

But once finally finding the house, Cyrus’ grandfather will tell you about how, despite being an gifted student, his grandson struggled to live up to the expectations set up for him by his parents. At best, this implies pushy helicopter parents, and at worst abuse and neglect, leading to deep feelings of rejection and lack of self-worth.

He generally preferred his own company or that of easily predictable machines than that of humans and Pokemon, both of whom were more difficult to predict given how volatile emotions can be. Victims of emotional abuse often find themselves avoiding social situations, so they don’t have to live up to the rules paired alongside them.

His grandfather comments on how he regrets not taking Cyrus away from his parents. Often times other family members who failed to stop the abuse find themselves the target of more hate than the abusers themselves. Even if his grandfather tried to reach out to Cyrus after he left home, he likely would not have received a positive response.

Long term effects of emotional abuse include, but are not limited to:

Emotional instability

Inability to trust

Withdrawal

Depression

Aggression

Sound familiar?

Cyrus has a lot of misplaced anger. He has outbursts of extreme aggression which are quickly pushed down. After the player defeats/captures Giratina in the Distortion World, Cynthia attempts to reason with him only for Cyrus to respond with unfiltered rage:

“Silence! Enough of your blathering! That's how you justify spirit as something worthwhile?! That is merely humans hoping, deluding themselves that they are happy and safe! (...) ...Enough. We will never see eye to eye.”

Despite his best efforts, he is unable to stop himself being controlled by his own emotions and he hates himself for it. Cyrus choosing to accept the empty Distortion World over the real world is as close to symbolic suicide as Game Freak could possibly get without explicitly stating it.

But then comes the question of redemption. Despite how utterly monstrous some of his actions are, mechanical storytelling shows us there is still good in him, even if it’s buried under all the questionable morality.

To make sure everyone is on the same page, mechanical storytelling when you express a narrative concept through a mechanical one.

For example: Ghetsis in B2W2 has a Hydreigon with the move Frustration at full power. Frustration is a move that gains power the less friendship a Pokemon has with their trainer.

During the first battle the player has against Cyrus in Celestic Town, his team consists of Sneasel, Murkrow, and Golbat. By the time you battle him for a second time in the Galactic HQ, his Golbat has evolved into Crobat, a Pokemon which only evolves via high friendship. The can either be interpreted as just further emotional manipulation or further proof that he is not as in control of his emotions as he likes to think.

What stops any potential for redemption? Cynthia and her grandmother.

While their actions are not intentionally dismissive, they are certainly not helpful for Cyrus’ already erratic mental state. When Cyrus appears in Celestic Town, he asks the Elder (Cynthia’s grandmother) about the myth of the Lake Spirits and if the reason the world remains in balance is because of them.

Of course, she has no reason to want to understand where Cyrus is coming from, and thus dismisses him. For the Elder, Cyrus is just a strange man who wandered into the ruins and started asking odd questions. She has not way of knowing his past or his future plans.

Cynthia, on the other hand, essentially tells him where he can stuff his new world.

"...So you were already here. Why do you seek to change the world? If you hate our world you should just go off somewhere alone. Find somewhere where you can live without seeing others."

Again, she isn’t intentionally trying to be dismissive of his struggles, because she doesn’t know about them. During the main story, neither does the player. The player only discovers the details of Cyrus’ past in the post-game.

Because in the main story of Platinum, you aren’t supposed to sympathise with Cyrus. You’re supposed to see him for the monstrous actions he carries out and commands. If you were to know about his past straight away, it would put so much of his dialogue in a completely different light.

Ultimately, the knowledge of his childhood turns him from a egotistical megalomaniac with a god complex into an abuse victim refusing to let anyone else suffer like he did.

Does it excuse his actions? Of course not.

To quote Brooklyn Nine-Nine:

But it helps us, the audience, understand how he can be driven so far to the edge as to decide that the only way to fix the incomplete world is to start over.

#ria.txt #pokemon dppt #team galactic leader cyrus #team galactic #character analysis #abuse mention #suicide mention #long post #buckle up kids because this is a long ride #idk what else to tag this

144 notes · View notes

raiswanson · 7 years ago

Text

MORE OC ASKS

Tagged in via @universalfanfic ;)

Still on a Pryza kick, but Maika has gotten tons of attention so let’s shake things up and do something for Rewill this time :D

Tagging: LITERALLY ANYONE FOLLOWING ME, but I’ll name the squad ;o (I know this one has gone around a little so if you’ve already done this you can pass, but you could do it for another character if you want~)

@typeaadventures @helenpowers @jesse-is-inarguably-purple @prycarious @brynprocrastinates @bambmazing @my-words-are-light @h-brook-writes @tundra-tiger @scribbledwriting @tangledlinescrumpledpaper @otramble @lilymaidofgallifrey @acfawkes @byjillianmaria @christinawritesfiction @dwobbit_under_the_mountain

GENERAL

Name: Rewill Lase

Alias(es): Though he hated it, at one time his group called him Slinky, and when they felt mean it was Vent-Rat (the struggles of not getting to choose your own code name...)

Gender: Male

Age: Mid-twenties

Place of birth: space. the final frontier-- Rewill was born on the spaceport Victorious, near Etak’s orbiting space

Spoken languages: Common, Tech, fragments of Celes, and more recently, Tarthul

Sexual orientation: Bi, with a slight preference toward women

Occupation: ...... modern day privateer >.>

APPEARANCE

Eye colour: Green

Hair colour: brown

Height: 5′10″

Scars: LOADS OF EM

Burns: slighter fewer than scars, but STILL LOADS

Overweight: heavens no

Underweight: yes, though he would prefer it be phrased “lean”

FAVOURITE

Color: whatever color the horizon is at present

Hair colour: blonde

Eye colour: blue

Music genre: old school rock n roll

Movie genre: Horror/Slasher

TV Show: I wish I had the worldbuilding to invent tv shows for Pryza, but it’s probably an anime tbh

Food: Anything from the rundown little food vendor at the end of the district near his old home

Drink: if you ask him he’d probably say Slurm and leave you to figure out why he started laughing

Book: some old programming book he stole from Mach, which he can barely even read because it’s written in Enochian

HAVE THEY

Passed university: his application to JANUS says yes... ;)

Had sex: Definitely yes

Had sex in public: Public as in on the sidewalk of a pedestrian walking space? No.

Public as in somewhere you probably should not be having relations/could easily be stumbled upon? Yes, unfortunately.

Gotten pregnant: This is not that kind of SciFi my friend

Kissed a boy: yes, many

Kissed a girl: yes, m a n y

Gotten tattoos: Yes, though he lost all but one (on his chest)

Gotten piercings: His ears are full of more holes than a block of swiss cheese, but he removed most of them for his work at JANUS

Had a broken heart: ..yes

Been in love: Tragically so

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: His record is a week before he lost functionality and was forcibly knocked out by a coworker

ARE THEY

A virgin: HELL NAW

A cuddler: HELL YES

A kisser: Let’s put it this way. If he could kiss people in greeting and at every positive turn of events without being slapped, he would

Scared easily: By certain things, yes, but not ordinarily

Jealous easily: In a sorta cute “nooo pay attention to meeee” puppy dog way

Trustworthy: Trustworthy as in won’t lie or possibly go back on his word? No.

As in won’t willingly cause you harm and means the best for you/has your back? Yes.

Dominant: 30% normally (though he cranks it up to 100% when he’s in a familiar setting and shit needs doing)

Submissive: 70%. He just likes being pushed around. Leaves more brain power to be snarky

In love: Augh, yes

Single: By circumstance, yes

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: Via general recklessness and stupidity, yes. As a result of dark thoughts, no.

Thought of suicide: Yes

Attempted suicide: Yes

Wanted to kill someone: Has actively killed someone

Ride a horse: He’s never seen a horse in his life but he’d love to ride one if there were any on Etak

Have/had a job: ...technically?

Have any fears: THERE ARE NUMEROUS FEARS. Primarily afraid of Etak’s weather, though

FAMILY

Sibling(s): None that he knows of / some in-laws

Parents: Never knew them, never learned who they were / Rapur has since “adopted” him

Children: 8C

Pets: There are two [redacted], named Anubis and Fenrir, which he has not seen for some time

#ask Rai #I love character questionnaires with a passion #feel free to tag me in all of them 8)#also brb gonna go cry over Rewill now #poor bby

11 notes · View notes

negativefate · 4 years ago

Text

rambling stream of consciousness essay i wrote to myself dec 29, 2014

listening to harsh noise music while driving down the highway i had just taken off at 630 from my house and before that woken up at 5 to get ready and finish cleaning the last set of things and before that leaving a party at kevins house and not telling anyone that i wasn't going to be there for new years and causing disappointment and before that seeing a show at dead leaf with a great 8bit band at the end and before that walking back and forth to the liquor store to get some beer and before that awkwardly getting dinner after my cousin came to visit when we probably should have gotten dinner with them and then before that i am cleaning up the basement again, organizing stupid cables, making a couple old devices work which is fun, but is it worth the time spent even? if not, then is my time on this planet even fucking worth it or am i just making trash like i believe these actual physical well designed objects that come to my home are so jump to me landing in kansas city and here i put on a tape just to get in the mood again i get there only an hour after landing i clumsily look up directions to get to jacks house on my phone i find there’s a bus that gets me there for fuckin a dollar fifty and i give them 2 and they give me a ticket for 50 cents back i ride the bus and i'm pretty tired for lack of sleep, and we drive through some weird semi industrial areas that are sparsely developed yet there are people getting on and off the bus fairly consistently i almost don't even notice who is getting on and off and at one point i look back to the back of the bus and see that i don't remember hardly any of the people getting on one person is looking back at me with a mousey face i typify some of these midwest people's looks certain women especially have a certain look that just reminds me of various nondescript porn actresses or something i start reading a economics book and it talks about oil prices and how scarcity reflects prices and is a major signal to the economy it is an interesting point of view but i look for holes in the logic because it seems obviously presenting a plain vewpoint it is clear that the US for example doesn't give a fuck about scarcity or perhaps the signalling system is so degraded that there is a runaway development the roads are overbuilt the cars are overrunning the roads if i take the face value economic view that this is a supply and demand problem i see it as a very perverse value system that rewards wasting they clearly even mention that soviet economies have gross inefficiencies and if we reflect on our own inefficiency it's clear to see that we are not perfect i feel that the author should have made this more clear i notice that i passed a street that i saw on my map (wyanadote) and while i didn't think it was "already" time to get off, several people are standing for several city blocks instead of sitting waiting to get off therefore I realize perhaps we're at a central location and certainly we are I stumble a couple blocks from the "main transit center" to another crossing on wyanodote, and i pass several office buildings with retail space that is broken down on the first floors first an eye doctor shop, filled with eye product ads but being torn to pieces otherwise then a sandwich shop, with dark cloudy windows and closed signs and a vibe of a previous generations comfort food when i reach the bustop at the streets that i had spotted on my map i was pleased and the troost bus came almost instantly i didn't understand how to scan my transfer so the lady did it for me, and i was acting bashful she was wondering if i knew it was the troost bus and i said yes i was wondering if that question was loaded i rode the bus in the front and looked at all the people that got on and off as we went towards jacks house we passed a row of two story townhouses that were red and white and repetitive that just looked like a dead end life situation for successful people i remembered my talk with my dad about retirement plans and investing money and about how i was literally thinking of blowing my brains out rather than do that and how i was yet again thinking about suicide in the bus i didn't even take it seriously but the vividness of me blowing my fucking head off was really awful i finally started recognizing some troost landmarks and scrambled off the bus i gave my ticket to a guy that wanted a transfer and he lamented being late for the bus that i just got off i don't know how to respond to this very well but wished him luck i walked up to jacks house and there are birds and squirrels and life just running wild there it is bright and sunny though a bit chilly (maybe 40 deg) and all these animals just were simply flourishing i walk inside through a couple closed doors and find my keys in the decorative chicken ornament i was surprised to also find several condoms inside the chicken, which was really amusing (e.g. the rooster...cock...haha) then i sat for a minute and petted the cat i wondered why the cat wasn't outside killing all the abundant wildlife whatever i was wearing three jackets because i was convinced that frontier would charge me for stuffing my jacket in my backpack and making it oversized in reality they didn't appear to care but they charge 50 dollars for a goddamn carry on that wasn't declared so i didn't risk it so i take off several layers and start my car i find where i left several of the christmas presents that I had meant to bring back home in the trunk and sort of kick myself for it i consider taking my car to a dealership to get it fixed up but have no idea where i also consider getting some food somewhere but decide to just hit the road i'm fairly tired still so i decide the stop off at fast food a couple miles out of town during the ride i am listening to some shitty talk radio about some guys that are talking about their "online trading academy" for stock trading i pull over and get some mountain dew, burrito and gasoline. slurping reality blub sucker is all i am at that moment. i do a couple stretches but it doesn't really feel very good. i am still listening to the radio in the parking lot and i notice that they replay recorded segments of themselves suggesting it is not at all a live show. at that point i decide it's time to blast the "white eye of winter" cassette and just start driving. i decide intentionally to start making stream of consciousness analogies to the noises instead of just letting it wash over me in some nonverbal stupidity i realize music journalists are probably better than me at this but i take some interest in just naming the feelings that i get so I'll repeat that hear a full spectrum white wash starts and then quickly gets crushed into a rumbling full force debase attack that's totally intentional about getting a skull crushing sound "large numbers of priests that were administrating the gulags were arrested and presumed killed" "others were sent to the labor camps...and suffered more slowly...assumed to be part of stalins fringe" a demented drum sound with a short delay time and extremely high feedback pounds and is absorbed by a sea-worthy hiss that fuzzes out and pounds once again to a deep drum a wind swept saturation takes hold and kills everything around it dead leaves litter the ground like there was never life anyways a thin veneer on the surface of our planet oscillations that never even really meant anything the dark fades away...like a comet that is completely grey....without color next a dirty fucking liquid sounds like it's being squeezed through a rubber feeding tube and a vaguely operatic chorus sings in the background, lulliby for a screaming nightmare some full bodied drone hovers over the chorus and takes the 17th century in it's arms and lays it gently to rest, taking each of the sharp moments, the sick deaths, the negative atrocity culture, and bringing it up onto a safer place, one where the only thing that matters is th industrialization of our times the industrialization has replaced any notion that feelings matter, any notion that a fair working environment is something that people deserve we could give retards something to do but it's already done and if you go up the ladder you see more and more things have been automated away you don't think about the roads being built do you? you don't think about the farms that cover 80+ percent of arable land do you? even when you're flying from new york to LA you don't hardly notice that humans have claimed this land for themselves scintillation frequency evokes this convulsive thought control that rises into a nasty chemical haze that demands more resources it's silenced into yet another flailing drippy sound fade out

a electric whip takes the stand fucking whining about the deprivation of resources and stuggles to make some connection fiercely spitting out brief moments of feedback between any number of frequencies that it can communicate on with an aether with non-existant endpoint it takes on more and more endpoint arcing back on itself and driving the frequencies into logical conundrums that antirepel itself and howl into additional painful derivative maneuvers it makes no difference to the machine what the effects of it's energy is being expended on, but only that some noise is being made taken astray leading reclamation of a formerly _done wrong_ system that is now instantaneously trashed and thrown under to make way for something more unplanned more unrelenting in it's consumption of power and antisocial connectivity whining and crying you see tear droplets form in the wave spectrogram taking a full 90 seconds to develop from a mixture of waveforms into a coherent pattern at your notification level notification level that is aloof from what you are supposed to be paying attention to but is instead wired into the inverse avoidance pattern the end the beginning once more gain blasting the appearance of nothing into a oscillation that has wavelengths spanning over years in time \ the bright lightning shatters a dark blank sentimental moment between us vaccum heavy rain sucks the white light from the heavens turning your back onto the keloid frostbite fallow bulbous pulsing face trancerotten yellow drainage trapnell decade trip fucker stumble block meaningless powernazi storm chaser populace chain reveals a mathematical rule. a pseudoconsistent logic to resolve fndamental curry's paradox from thin air what you thought was a clumsy blind behemoth is now an industrialized system that seemingly stands on it's own regardless of what yo even thought your very presence is nothing more than that like a dinosaur a placement that just gives you a central prominence as i start the other side the lull the powerful lull of harmonics drilled deep into the subcortex drilled deep into the somnambulist deity that rocks the beddy-bye to sleep that keeps the sharp reality away for at least some time for that reality of simple nature, the spikes of inedible plant matter, the vast nothingness that humans have somehow decided is rightfully theirs. homesteaded one small plot at a time until the federal government stepped in and purchased the large swaths of land a musical pattern that resembles a shaman opening and closing it's arms above it's head and taken drumming starts thathits something that's the vbrational equivalent of a untuned drum mode across an entire flood basin drumming starts that calls into question or owner ship of that land and the melodic butterfly that was once a welcome sight is now almost gone a tick tock dog growl gargling on some infected bacteria sinus cavity occupies the entire space you can hardly remember what things that you thought reckless distasteful nonsense squanders what was left of your vague fact driven storyline a sigh of relief ahlzagailzeguh stomps something fierce onto the mixing floor and drives metallic shards of broken dreams into the woodwork you don't think about who built your house did you/ why do you think you are worth anything to the other people around you when i say you am i actually referring to myself? i'm just desperately trying to offload my stupidity onto someone else? what is vulnerable to critique? i sit almost braindead when i face some of the most important situations yet when something is inconsequential i can leap into action and hurl retarded insults atpeople who don't deserve it like this girl that played prince at a party for like 4 hours i walked up to her and nearly choked her lights out and when she closed the computer i said no! play something else! i proceed to chose a random song that i thought was good off of youtube and then i proceed to just stand there and drunkenly creep on some peoples conversation wishing i could have just chosen a song that was better it's not my fault right? no, it is... there's a huge societal expectation that can't handle you being this way there's a roaring electric god that isn't going to cradle you in your arms while your social environment sees you as if you were a crying baby on an airplane take just a couple things at a time put them "in their right place" maybe then you won't have a crushing retardation lingering over everything you touch repeat this ad nauseum don't think for a minute that you can "escape" this reality you're "personal experiences" (your vacation, your hanging out with friends) is so far deviated from your systematically disassociated life happenstance that your better off to just give the middle finger to everyone and everything until it's over until it's over and you drop a sharp process into the ground and levitate transgressional power you can physically and mentally fail during this tremble weirdly under the occipital signal tension drab naked torbid flippant crater wield two basic components and when suddenly connected create a huge imbalance that sends flux reeling superintensely into the weak painless skinless meat proper happenstance flayed skinless animal carcass rotting spongiform encephalitis eschera coli sacchromyces schizophrenia pombe river blindness parasite trapped nderneat the helencaste psycholayer obligate individual disease question i never know what to say

0 notes

thewul · 4 years ago

Photo

Imagine a new world out there, all it takes is water and a landmass, and ships designed and equipped to set up colonies even several on a distant world, or several

Ships of a sheer size able to travel very far and very fast, which makes it a possibility to spend time on exoplanets that have not the best potential for life, because in all likelihood life will be there already, but the best potential for a sustainable and lasting human colonization

Imagine this in a context where we have wars here about just about anything, that distant worlds might be colonized and flourish, maybe irrelevantly of what we do here, that here is going to serve as a support while they have everything they need overthere

That trade and commercial relationships will emerge with worlds that may not consider themselves colonies but actual worlds, new worlds to deal with, where we are the ancestors, some might never know Earth and live on an Earth of their own

We have covered that aspect with MESH and Mars, but we can quickly come to the conclusion that Mars is a long time project that meanwhile there are ready made exoplanets

How can they thrive depends on how Earth thrives itself and the effort it can sustain to make them a success knowing that they will grow ingrate over time as they rely more and more on themselves alone

So it’s several worlds not just Mars

There are great chances that new societal modes will emerge based on the ones we have but different, and that are based on mobility. Indeed taking into account the sheer vastness of space and the distances that will take years to cross even aboard such ships as the TITAN or the MEGA TITAN, or even the largest we have which are the SUPRA that people will actually live and die aboard those ships

That these many worlds are stop overs sometimes for weeks months years even, but that home is the ship you belong to, where possibly you are born and possibly will stay all your life, where you have been going to school, upper studies, where you have your job and career, friends and family

So it is will be an increasingly atomized scattered way of life, where the true cement is logistics and telecoms

How you make that wide reaching ensemble scattered across space and atomized by the distances not disparate is by building up integrated and cohesive logistics and telecoms into it

Why MESH is so important is because it sustains GYES that sustains all the rest and makes it homogeneous

It's people of all races and all creeds aboard those ships that constitute this Bombardier civilization bound to spread to other worlds and in the end that civilization will not be bound by anything than its will to do, to engage with the quasi infinite medium that is space

Where other races exist with which we have to develop ties trade and commerce, industry and diplomacy, scientific collaboration and research, where they might just will become part of that Bombardier civilization and live aboard those ships same as the rest of Bombardier citizens

So yes it is a very different civilization that is not bound by a geographic space that is not fashioned by race or religion but by the effort, its many efforts but lets call it an effort, to make their civilization a success

It is a civilization that builds upon the rest, where historians social science researchers, anthropologists writers and thinkers consider these past civilizations in order to learn from their mistakes not to repeat them and capitalize on the rest, so yes it's not something out of the blue space civilization is has always been the finality of the civilizations that are found here and elsewhere present and past

For which space is the future for which space is the great frontier lying at the end of the road, to be pushed ever further, the new important and lasting story resulting from all that was before it, and nothing it seems will come after it

Inasmuch as a second planet in space and a third are a fascinating perspective what we need to contemplate is a million worlds and several millions

That indeed there is a race against time starting now to accomplish all this where the key is the ability to replicate and replicate fast do the thinking beforehand not during or after

And it is an experiment that starts here of all places turning the increasingly globalized world economy into a space age economy and building that new space civilization not from scratch because civilizations existed from a long long time ago but almost because what we want to achieve has never been done before

It's a very broad subject, in fact different ones that are all related, and when it's like that you have to tap into available talents to densify your understanding of the matter, to elaborate on it inasmuch as possible and there is a tool for that called writing, and authors that can take these different subjects much further because they made space and what is for now Sci Fi their lifelong pursuit furthermore we put in place Wayfarer as a series as the most cost effective solution to do just that

Wayfarer as a series is bound to be extensive, and it's bound to stay with us without any time limit as we put all this in perspective for now and for the future what is it like in space, to live there to build there and to make space age and the space civilization we want to build around that space transporter and industrial an everyday reality

A reality that starts here where this planet in itself has to transform from its present state of disparate income inequality when you look at it from a national or even regional perspective into a cohesive whole able to sustain the very consequent space effort that we are considering, for here for now and for starters as for the whole of it its several different systems that will be needed to constitute the embryo of this space transporter and industrial and its training grounds to keep accomplishing more of the same which over time amounts to the space civilization we want to build from the ground up

There are several things we can extrapolate, for example what is a Space Controller, and the answer would be that a Space Controller does the same job as an Air Controller here but in Space, it's the same meticulous attention to detail and proactivity that are needed but a different environment and constraints, it's a similar but different know how but there is already a consequent knowledge body to capitalize upon. And that stands correct for a whole variety of skills and key expertise that are consequent here and of use in space

And the more you put it in perspective, our understanding of space age as an age where everybody is equally educated and prosperous by which we mean that illiteracy and absolute poverty, even poverty, as things of the past the more we realize that the success of our operations in space and in the future depend of the success of our operations here in a general context that is far from perfect and that in itself will require a huge sum of collective and individual efforts to address

And so in themselves both the BPN and the BGP are tools for Bombardier not to go it alone because it is not meant to solve all of the planet's wide range of issues from income disparity to underdevelopment on its own but rather form vast coalitions of willing partners who's interests in the end amount to the same, a better educated more prosperous population for now and for the future, a future who's finality is space expansion and human colonization of distant systems

Many are those who will say that space is nothing but a luxury for now and we have to agree considering the living conditions of a vast swath of the global population, however space and space related research and applications can hold the answers for many problems and issues that we are facing here, ideally we should do both and ideally we should do more of everything, more is needed much more where Bombardier and the BPN and BGP have to play the role of global enablers, enabling individuals, organizations, corporations and governments to do more, meaning funding it

Foremost the funding of those who are able to deliver for which we dispose of established and proven criteria of measurability efficiency and accountability

When it's like that you can find inspiration in the way nature does things, and one way it does things is through cross pollination meaning that we can tap into existing know how and industrial strength of diverse parts of the world to cross pollinate the rest in order for strong industrial poles to emerge in the regions of the world where such industries do not exist

So if you ask me are developed countries going to build the rest I say yes it is a unique growth opportunity for them but that is not the whole answer, the countries lacking infrastructures and industry can build themselves from the ground up and modernize themselves if only they are shown how to do it and that there is the funding for it

Are we talking technology transfers yes but profit oriented in response to their initial cost and while retaining these different ownership as regards patents and technologies. Perhaps or surely when these target countries develop industrial poles new patents stemming from research will emerge that they are the owners of them but we can't go on almost blaming them for being poor while depriving them of that foot in the ladder

The foot on the ladder that is science and research conducted nationally and regionally and no some countries in the world cannot keep indefinitely holding 90% of the world's patents while the rest own nothing, making them solely consumers and never owners or even producers of anything but raw and semi finished materials is akin to condemning them to poverty while speaking of recession, it is non sensical and short sighted to say the least

And it is actually very damageable to the growth of the whole and surely explains the state of poverty of many parts of the world where all they have really is human capital and raw materials or foodstuffs for exports

That are sold for dirt cheap versus any finished product you can think of that cost close to nothing to produce and then are geared for exports for much much more

Which these finished products themselves that are costly and exported back to the aformentionned markets would be a big nothing without these raw and semi finished materials

At some point we need an explanation why a few holding paper patents are profiting while those whose minerals and raw materials constitute the bulk of these finished products are poor

Why are we forever stuck in that biased aid money logic and why patent holding countries are not paying people a fair price for their riches as they should and I find all of the G8 countries guilty in that regard, guilty they are

If I make a 100 billions profit out of raw materials that I paid 1 billion its shameful to say the least to visit with 1 million of aid money they can keep it, I think those export countries would rather be paid their 10 billions then pocket 1 billion and be suckered into buying into the aid money scam

The objective with the BPN and the BGP is also very much to constitute a critical mass to force a radical change upon this system that seems to be based on poverty, yes you are poor so that I can buy your resources for dirt cheap and no you can't develop because you will not accept those low prices anymore but rather seek to transform your own raw materials and minerals to my detriment

Because in the end all I have really is paper patents

And no I am not going to do much else than aid money which amount to a pittance peanuts to be precise

It makes me wonder what these patent holders would do with their economies without the raw materials that are readily available for cheap because they are traded in foreign markets, because the producing countries are either disorganized or pressured to practice low prices by richer countries and so forth and the answer is not much, the answer is that they would close shop

So a major wealth redistribution is needed for space age economy to lift off the ground and the BPN and BGP are de facto tasked with it, it is very much a prerequisite

We also need to look into the dereclit institution that is the IMF which did too little too late and is trying to achieve the impossible with meager means, the tenance of Christine Lagarde has been nothing short of despicable. As for the World Bank where's the money gone?

How come rich countries are in debt themselves what kind of scam this is considering the massive profits that they draw from the de facto income inequality where poor countries do not have any other options than to sell at the asking price of others raw materials and even their human capital, and where all they do is whine about illegal immigration and counterfeiting even of medicinal drugs targeting their home markets, no this doesn't make any sense at all so we are going to stop here and I think those concerned get the clear and full picture

A much needed change, a change that has been the topic of countless discussions in countless organizations governments and institutions so right now the time for words is spent, words and good intentions lead only so far without means, it is means that are needed large and consequent means to make that change

We need to put an end to people paid for nothing, for good words and speeches, mind you we can all make them what do they change in the end

How is it these speeches feed the poor clothe them and educate them for a better future, do not dare say aid money where's the money the real money that people are getting robbed in plain daylight and you call that a global economy

As for Zoellick his tenure of at the World Bank it has been nothing short of myopic, seeing the problems and doing nothing about them in the end, we spoke and I had thought that he had gotten the point but what did he do about it but point to governments living in poverty as partners who’s responsibility it is to implement recommended measures not the World Bank’s, pardon my French but screw partners in poverty, where is the money to implement whatever

This is not the end of this post however having decided to make it as extensive as possible to cover the issues and challenges we are facing to accomplish what we covered so far and the space age economy that we have brushed as the only alternative to poverty and underdevelopment, we need a much better planet and global economy and the both Bombardier, the BPN and the BGP are that coalition of willing partners who will put their money where their mouth is for a change

Housing health education jobs, as we define space age economy what is it, it is the contrary of being born to a world where you have to fend for yourself and that has nothing to offer to its new generations but more of the same

It is an economy where as a citizen you are entitled to decent housing, entitled to health, entitled to education and entitled to work and a career, it is an economy where your coming to the world is a source of wealth and income not a burden and where these things are planed for your beforehand

Are we anywhere close to that, yes some countries have entitled their citizens to such benefits but no it is far from being all countries because of the income not wealth disparities that are prevalent

If we take a look at many different countries on paper they are wealthy they dispose of vast mineral and human capital riches but because of either mismanagement or poor planning or both they are in fact poor and their citizens rank amongs the poorest of the poor why because of a lack of understanding of what we are dealing with here

What we are dealing with here is that producing a robot or cyborg that is anywhere close to the capacities of a human being and we can list them capacity by capacity would cost at the very least tens of billions to produce, while people they're taken for granted, they're readily available and they're worth nothing in many parts of the world, there are no consequent investment in them in their well being and in making them valuable parts of a greater whole

And thus the whole crumbles under the unsolvable dilemma that any robot off the shelve that can be found in many industries costs tens of millions while a human being who's brain surpasses the capacity of supercomputers, who's eyes are more accurate than the latest and most expensive cameras who's hand motions and body motions in general would cost a fortune to imitate with mitigated success, who's intelligence and imagination we seek to translate as AI far surpass those of AI models for now, all of this is taken for granted that it costs nothing

That they can die of curable diseases, malnutrition or insalubrity while any robot that can be found in an automobile factory is insured for millions costs tens of millions and tens of tens times that to design build and procure

Robots are worth more than people, and there is has been a constant drive for automation because automation is the future yet the future that is taking shape where automation becomes a source of wealth and people are regarded as globally expendable even in rich countries people sleep under a bridge or die of cold in winter is not a option should never be an option, is an option for seeing our world and way of life become even direst to the point that whatever little employees and workers can procure out of the work of their hands and even in the future out of their intellect is getting diminished not improved by progress

Where we do not add to people's skills, but rather at some point we will turn them down because their skills have become inadequate and a burden cost wise versus automation automated systems and AI

That is the future we are building right now putting value in things and not in people and that is definitely not the future Bombardier the BPN and the BGP are intent to build or considering as a viable option for the future

Yes large scale automation automated systems and artificial intelligence have a key role to play in our future operations but no, not at the cost of diminishing the intrinsic value of human beings their capacities and skills and their infinite potential for growth, infinite because of their intelligence and imagination that are not bound by anything but by their will to do and the means that they dispose of

I would like to go back to how BCS was redacted on single desktop tied to the internet using publicly available online resources, it is not much in itself but many are those who lack even water electricity and sanitation, so where and how are we enabling people all over the world to do the same as I did, so are yes they are it is not all bleak but many are those who aren't

So before anything a space age economy is an economy that enables people that puts value in people that educates and cares for its people and that believes in their capacity and talents and drive to accomplish what they want and in doing so they fulfill their role in society they make it wealthier and prosperous they lead it further they accomplish for it more then any and all robots can more than artificial intelligence can where robots and automated systems are themselves enablers and a support not the means to replace people because they are more cost effective to operate

And I mean operate not design build or own that part is way up there in terms of costs designing building and purchasing such automated systems or randomly automated if we consider AI as a replicable not replicable entity or several of them working together

Imagine a new world or several of them, distant outposts at first then thriving colonies as the populations increase, how does it change things it changes everything with trips that last years to arrive and as the size of the ships increase it is brought down to months, still a journey but a much faster one and as the journey time is reduced to months we discover a different perspective than travelling in space for years which is time consuming and the realm of astronauts scientists technicians engineers construction workers so we there is over time a change in the constitution of that population taking shape

And we start seeing travelers and colons with their families where spending a few years in a distant system is not a far fetched dream but an everyday reality, where TV and the internet display ads asking for candidates willing to relocate to distant systems for work there either on their own, mining workers and oil industry workers and other ads geared towards welcoming families to populate these different systems

Space tourism becomes an ongoing commercial activity and the dream inasmuch as it was discovering our planet, which is something we want to do with Bombardier its tour operators and AIR Bombardier, the dream becomes achieving more than that in your lifetime it becomes visiting a distant exoplanet and even maybe several of them, where a journey to the Moon is both the easiest and least expensive and where other systems are competing with their natural beauty and sights to attract space tourists

As such the ARK mission as a whole is the cornerstone of all of this and that is why in itself it is with with Odyssey that is geared towards the exploration of our solar system the most important mission of Bombardier Space, maybe the most important missions of all time these two because their success determines the success of the whole of it and that of future space missions

#neo thunderstorm

0 notes

theonyxpath · 7 years ago

Link

Greetings, wayfarers!

Creature from the Haunted Sea (1961)

Matthew Dawkins reporting in. It’s been some time since my last confession. As many of you will be aware, I’ve been at work developing Onyx Path’s new game, They Came From Beneath the Sea!, an RPG of 1950s b-movie science fiction, horror, and japes. They Came From is intended to be a game you can play to meet any mood or tone, using the framework of one of those archetypal sci-fi classics we know and love. The budget may be low, the costumes may be ridiculously rubbery, and the acting may be poor. But! That’s not too different from most roleplaying experiences, so we should be fine.

My aim with this game is to present a world where within the space of months, creatures from the depths emerge and start threatening our way of life. To the player or Director in need of an analogy, look no further than the reason many such invasion movies came out in the decade they did: the threat of nuclear war was ever present. The panic our heroes feel in these games is the panic they feel when confronted with the Red Scare, the House Unamerican Committee, enforced patriotism, and the real belief it could all end in an instant if someone pushes the big red button. The difference is that the threats are bipedal crabs, brain eater eels consuming our identities, peer pressure forcing every common Joe and Jane to take up arms, and the danger of something more dangerous than a single shuffling aquaterpillar creeping its way up the shore. There’s humor found in a game like this, and we certainly aim for tongue to be in cheek at parts. There’s also a feeling of humanity’s desperation. The writers have successfully put that mood into words in the drafts I’m redlining.

You will receive more information about this game as time goes on, but for now, I present you with an extract from Chapter One (written by Jacqueline Bryk and Larry Blamire, though this section is specifically Larry’s – so blame him for the clowns).

***

Keep Watching The Waves

Deep sea exploration is nothing new. It’s been going on since 1521 when Ferdie Magellan dropped a line 2,400 feet and didn’t find the bottom. It didn’t get into full swing until the 1870s with the HMS Challenger’s systematic approach to undersea exploration — leading to the birth of oceanography — with lines, dredges and trawls to make measurements and take samples. In the 1930s, Otis Barton’s bathysphere broke ground, or water, and Barton himself recently set a record with his 4,500 foot / 1,372 meter dive in his benthoscope.

Now there have been some pretty strange specimens retrieved from extreme depths, some that could be called nightmare-inducing fish, things glowing in a world of otherwise absolute darkness. But they are relegated and accustomed to those conditions, that enormous pressure and lack of light. They would not do well on the surface, if they could even get to it. And while it’s true that much of the ocean floor remains unexplored, it seems hard to imagine anything vaguely sinister, anything with an agenda, and certainly nothing to suggest advanced intellect.

And so indeed it is something of a shock that the actual alien invasion of Earth comes, not from above, but from below. The monsters are in our very own backyard, our giant swimming pool, where so many go to relax, that “next to final frontier,” the place we smugly thought we knew and rather complacently take for granted, where most of our water is.

They Come From the Sea.

So the question immediately comes to mind: Why? And why now? What could they possibly want with us? What could they want on land?

Quite a bit, actually. More on that later. First, let’s look at who, or what, they are, and how we first become aware.

Like many past civilizations before us, the first to become aware of the danger are pets and circus clowns. The latter might sound facetious, but when circus-goers begin to react listlessly and morosely to their zany antics, it’s the clowns’ heightened sensitivity (possibly brought on by years of pies in the face) that first react to the subtle changes in humanity. For the beginnings of this alien intrusion are not in the form of a sudden overnight onslaught of Things Marching From the Sea. Indeed, this invasion is insidious, not only in its sheer scope and variety of outrageous and horrific lifeforms, but also its clandestine and sinister infiltration into our daily lives.

Keep Watching Your Backs

The sandpits are singing.

You know, the ones out back, just past the yard, beyond the crooked tree on the little knoll. Like the little boy in Invaders From Mars we begin to discover that Mom and Dad are not Mom and Dad anymore. One by one, friends and family are lured out back, to be sucked into that sandpit.

Yes, the first wave of alien attack is subversive: infiltration. The enemy mixing among us. This comes in two basic forms:

Destruction and replacement

Takeover and possession

Each results in false humans walking and interacting with us. For the most part it’s systematic and effective, which is why we should be worried. But there are signs. There are things to look for, and that gives humankind some hope to go with our grim determination, science and flailing fists.

For instance, the Crab People, even posing as humans, are compelled to walk sideways. They can’t help it. Evolution-wise, they’re part people — and there’s quite a resemblance — but that sideways thing is just really hard to shake. Plus, it’s difficult to hold the bony face plates under their skin to retain a certain likeness (of the person they’ve replaced) for longer than several hours or so before needing a breather, at which point their wide hideous mandibles open up the entire face and suddenly it’s not Uncle Walt anymore.

Now, the disgusting Brain Eater Eel is easily squished in its natural form. Not so much in a human host. So these things are dangerous. What we need to be on the lookout for, then, is their insatiable appetite and a rather geekish hunger for human cinema. These can sometimes give them away. Of course, this does little to lessen the terror of knowing these creepy things could be beside us in line at the supermarket or Marx Brothers festival.

The third of our notable Identity Crisis Nightmares is perhaps the strangest. The Thaumocs are a form of super-intelligent octopi that are both clever and technologically advanced. How does a brainy cephalopod pass as human? With great difficulty, as the joke goes.

Actually, they ride around in a masterfully designed people suit; a fleshy fluid-filled frame fine enough to fool folks. One shortcoming is the Thaumoc’s lack of speech, causing them to depend on a contrivance that spews small talk, which is what they hear when they monitor and record our human blather. If you meet someone even more boring than usual, with limited direct interaction, there’s a good chance it’s one of them.

Knowing these imperfections should not lead us to a sense of overconfidence, by any means. It is merely meant to balance what has become the highest level of paranoia to ever infect civilized society, even more than the spread of communism. They are survival tips as well as morale booster in the face of things that sometimes quite literally make our skin crawl. The only enemy more dangerous than the one you don’t know is the one you know.

Keep watching your backs…

***

Feel free to ask questions below, and I will answer what I can!

#Onyx Path Publishing

6 notes · View notes

page-of-tales · 6 years ago

Text

Frontier Medicine III

1.8k words

Final part to Frontier Medicine

Tara glanced at the flight controls. But for some reason the readings she was looking at didn’t make sense. She tried to reexamine the data but she couldn’t understand what she was looking at. She turned to talk to her co-pilot only to see the entire fighter was filled with smoke. The thick oily smoke filled her lungs and she struggled to breath. Desperately she tried to call for help, for her crew to evacuate. Despite her growing panic her body seemed to refuse to listen. The smoke soon enveloped her and she started to choke. This was wrong. With a willful movement she thrust herself forward out of her chair as the fighter disintegrated around her.

When she blinked above her was a darkened ceiling. Underneath she could feel a mattress on her back, sheets soaked in sweat. Confused she sat up. Unfamiliar furnishings surrounded her, but after a moment the events of the past week caught up to her. As her racing heart slowed back down, and her gasping breaths stopped. Her chest ached and she reached over to uncap a pill. As she swallowed the medication Tara looked at the window. The frame just barely lit by the moonlight. A nightmare she thought to herself, the room echoed with silence as her mind fought with itself. Finding a balance point she laid back on the bed to try and go back to sleep.

Outside the door a figure slowly crept away as the breathing in the room returned to an even pace.

It was on the 7th day that Clark proposed a suggestion. At first Tara hadn’t understood, but after some clarification things became clearer. Clark was proposing a camping trip for the three of them. Nothing too wild, in fact they would be traveling just a couple hours to the nearby lake just out of town. Technically Tara had no choice in the matter as a prisoner of war, but Clark insisted on getting her to agree to the matter. He explained a change in scenery and a chance to relax would be good for her.

The young boy, Zeke was quite excited. Even though they weren’t traveling far he eagerly rushed about the house throwing items into the truck. Tara found herself caught up in the boy’s enthusiasm, untangling the fishing line at a remarkable speed with her four arms. By noon they were driving down the road.

To give a bit of background about OJ-332. The star system is located some distance within the borders of Federation space, and quite a distance from the warp points in the region. Various spatial bodies nearby made it difficult for hyperspace travel. Because of these factors OJ-332 would historically be largely ignored by all the government and major corporations. LEaving the colonization of OJ-332 up to the venturous independent settlers to move into. Within OJ-223 itself the only habitable and populated planet is called Naranja by the local populace. Naranja is classified as a desert planet with just enough of an atmosphere and water content to be colonized by humans. With a caveat of the atmosphere being a little thinner than standard. Like living at high altitude, without the actual altitude. From space the yellow orange terrain is wrinkled by mountain ridges and valleys, and its most notable feature is a large crater in the north-west hemisphere. Indicative of a long ago impact by a significant massive object.

Geological studies of the planet had determined that the impact had wiped out a thriving primitive biosystem present on the planet. All of that organic matter had been subsequently transformed into prime farmland. Human settlers had capitalized on this fact, with the primary economy of the planet supported by its agricultural industry. The viable and weakened biosystem providing an ideal base for growing food. All of its exports are directed to the overflowing interior Sector systems. Despite its potential for productivity, most of the planet is undeveloped because of how remote the region is.

Spotted Eagle was the first settlement on the planet, and in order to ease the process of terraforming, had been located by the largest body of freshwater on the planet. Development of irrigation and other projects had drained the lake somewhat. A decrease which made it the third largest body of freshwater on the planet.

Their destination was this small unnamed lake, and they arrived sometime just before the sunset. It didn’t take them long to find a camping spot and set up their campsite. Clark told the two should explore the lake while he prepared food. Tara took a walk to a small pier jutting into the lake to rest while Zeke ran up and down the gravel beach. The lake was for lack of better words, modest. You simply don’t get magnificent lakes on a desert planet. “Then again a lake is just a body of water and all bodies of water are the same in appearance.” Zeke had said after Tara scoffed at the lake as a tiny pond. The lake was of a moderate size, surrounded by tree covered hills. The water was largely undisturbed, and clear to the bottom. Tara could watch fish swimming around the legs of the pier. Laying on her stomach she ran her hands in the water. The cold sensation soothing to the touch. It was incredibly pleasant.

Some time later Clark called them in for dinner and they sat around a campfire eating their meal. Zeke eagerly showed some colorful rocks he had picked off from the beach, while Tara focused on the crackle and pop of the campfire. After the meal Clark pulled out a few more bags of foodstuffs. The two of them demonstrated an old human tradition. Smores as they called it. A melted over sugary dessert that repulsed Tara. Though she still ate eight of the monstrosities. Using her two pairs of hands to rotate the sugar balls on their spits to get an even brown appearance. Afterwards the fire was doused and the two split up to rest in the two tents they had set up. From her tent Tara could hear the sound of the water nearby, and the chirp of insects. She wondered how she would sleep with all the noise.

The next morning Clark rose early. The sun was breaking the horizon. Surprisingly Tara was still asleep. Usually she would be up with the sun, doing her grooming. Clark let her rest. Moving to sit by the pier and look at the sun reflecting off the water as it slowly rose over the horizon. Blazing reds flashing off the waves, the light glimmering in a mesmerizing chaos. Absentmindedly Clark felt the old scars on his side. Old wounds from an old war. Though the pain had faded there were still something there. It was largely why he had left the interior for the frontier.

Behind him he heard the footsteps and turned to see Zeke had woken up. He held two fishing poles in his hands, a box of bait precariously balanced. Clark rose to help his son, the sun continuing to rise higher and higher.

Tara stumbled out of the narrow tent opening and blinked in the sudden light. She had overslept. Walking over to the cooler she grabbed one of the food bars they had brought along and scarfed it down. Looking for the others she saw them on the pier. She approached them and saw the two had fishing poles extended into the water. The father turned to greet her and hand her a pole. She handed it back to him and explained she didn’t know how to use it. He quickly showed her how to use it, it wasn’t a complicated device. A spool of line, and a handle. He baited the hook for her with a native worm, and then cast it into the water. She took the pole and sat on the pier. Dangling her feet into the water.

After a long while, the sun having noticeably changed position in the sky, Tara spoke up. “I don’t think this is working”

Clark reeled back in his line, examined the worm which was still intact on the hook and cast his line back into the water. “It’s called fishing not catching.”

Zeke groaned.

After some time the three of them had managed to catch 4 fish. Zeke and Tara had each caught two. Clark went about showing Zeke how to prepare one of the fishes, and then Tara took an opportunity to show how her people prepared fish. Sticking the fish on sticks they roasted them over a fire. Some tubers were wrapped in foil and placed in the fire to cook as well. The savory smell was even more gratifying when the three of them thought of the struggle it had been catching them. As they ate Clark perked his head up, hearing something on the wind. Following his eyes Tara saw a vehicle approaching the campsite. Clark rose as the vehicle pulled up to them. For a moment he conversed with the driver. Then he gestured for Tara to come join them.

“Tara there is news about the war.”

“The war?” Tara had almost forgotten.

“Yes, the Ents and Zygaroons are currently in negotiations for a peace treaty. We have a shuttle to take you home. You can go home.”

For some reason Tara hesitated. Here was the opportunity to return home, and she was hesitating. The moment stretched with an undisturbed silence begging to be broken. Tara’s hands fluttered by her sides as she struggled with her indecisiveness. Clark held up his wrist to his face even though there was nothing there.

“You know Tara I had planned to a vacation for three people for three days. That’s a lot of food that would otherwise be wasted.”

He glanced above his wrist to look her in the eye.

“If you wanted to stick around a few more days I’m sure the embassy gentleman wouldn’t mind.”

After a moment Tara found her voice.

“I’m going to need a moment.”

She turned and walked away from them, heading back to the pier where Zeke was skipping stones into the water. Clark turned to the man who seemed perplexed by the alien behavior.

“It won’t be a problem if she decides to stay right?”

“No sir, this is our only assigned task. There is another team going to handle the mediation.”

“I’m not a sir anymore.” Clark chided gently.

“Of course… sir.” The man said, muttering the last word despite himself.

Clark turned to look at Tara who was sat in a meditative pose behind Zeke.

“I think she needs this.”

“Sir?”

“I said to stop calling me sir, my name is Clark.”

“...sorry.”

Fin

#hfy #writing #story

3 notes · View notes

cheswirls · 7 years ago

Text

The Reality of Nightmares ch 6

i lived, bitch so spoiler: i really didn’t wanna push for sendoff spring, so this is me building on other things before i have to drop them in the lake setting. i know it’s been, like, a year+, sorry. i never forgot about this tho, i jus didn’t know how to handle it and everything else i started around holiday 16.

i’m working on a shorter fic based entirely off a drama to help ease me back into writing for longfics, and that’ll take precedence through this month. once i relearn how to do this, tron will be back in full swing ! so jus consider this an intro to the return, i’ll do a bigger follow-up on everything addressed here before they visit the lake in the next chapter.

She regained consciousness before she regained the strength to open her eyes.

“ . . Faced with multiple lacerations and burns -what happened?”

“Hard to say. Lavana came at us pretty hard with a Magmortar, so some of the burns came from that. As for the others . . Well, she was with Isaac during the final stretch, up the second portion of the tower. He still hasn’t told much, but apparently, they had final encounters with each of the Sinis Trio. I could easily imagine things getting ugly. Especially with Ic-”

“Whaa,” she mumbled, eyelids lifting some, bright blurred forms coming into view. She wasn’t lying down all the way, her upper body propped up by something -pillows, maybe? She blinked and tried to clear her vision, too tired to do much else. In front of her, the forms began to move, one coming around to her side.

“Kate? Kate, it’s Keith. Are you okay?”

“Kei . . ?” She stopped, squinting as her view came into focus. “You look horrible,” she muttered, sniffing.

To her side, Keith stared at her in surprise, not expecting that. After a moment, he cracked up, shaking his head. Catching her confused gaze, he snickered once more. “You should see yourself, hun.”

“Mysel . .” She trailed off, looking down at her form. What she could see atop the sheets was covered in bandages, and then didn’t exactly look fresh, sickly orange patches on some, others stacked so much she could’ve sworn peeling them back would reveal bloodsoaked ones near the center. She couldn’t lift her arms. She couldn’t lift her head. Everything ached. She winced, flopped her head back to the side, and opened her mouth to ask Keith what the hell happened when another voice spoke.

“Ah, she’s awake.”

Keith winced and Kate moved her eyes to see Hastings gesturing for the doctor on her other side. He mumbled a few words and he hurried back to her, fidgeting with the machines she was hooked up to. Hastings looked back at her and hummed, lips curling into a frown.

“Maybe debriefing should be moved in here,” he muttered, glancing to Keith. “How long has she been up?”

“You got here just in time,” he replied evenly.

“Hmm.” Hastings stoops on his cane, thinking. Finally, he raises his eyes to meet Keith’s. “You’ve got two days. Make sure she’s up and able to move.” The scientist doesn’t waste another glance at Kate, choosing to turn around and walk out.

Kate lolls her head back to Keith, a question on her face. He shakes his head.

“Mission clear,” he croaks, finally breaking, tears springing to his eyes, happy to see her awake, knowing she was awake.

“You don’t look happy,” Kate tells him.

He turns his head away, biting down on his lip to keep it from trembling with little success. “Things are complicated,” he finally says. “Things are over, but not everything is fixed, not all is normal.”

She’s too tired to think. “What do you mean.”

“You’ll find out.” He locks his eyes with her tired ones, already drooping again. “In two days, forty-eight hours, you’ll see.”

Her room in the Pokemon League was shared with Keith. The beds were comfortable, but they were cold. Everything was cold in this land. But she wasn’t cold now, which concerned her enough to crack open an eye, searching for the source in the darkness.

Heavy breathing fell on her forehead. Her eyes were level with a neck, Keith’s, she assumed. Interesting.

Not that this didn’t happen sometimes. They were -something. She wasn’t sure what. But why, exactly, she couldn’t-

Oh.

Yes she could.

It had started late, with her bursting up in a fit of choked tears and barely-held back whimpers so harshly she fell off the bed, legs tangling in the sheets. Keith was up in an instant, beside her, ever present, and she remembered clinging to him as she settled down, rasping out a name over and over as he whispered to her it’d be okay.

Blake Hall.

Because they never recovered the people swallowed up by the darkness. Darkrai had vanished after her rampage on the machine and the converging of the dark crystal to a purer form. And it wasn’t like the magical superhero shows where the villain is defeated and everything returns to how it once before. The people that were taken never showed back up. They were lost. Missing.

Trapped in the darkness.

She regained control of herself by blocking it out, by letting herself be lead back onto the mattress, by not letting go of his hand until he climbed in after her, a needed presence.

It wasn’t good, to block it all out. But it was how she dealt, for now. It worked, for now. It was fine, for now. And if it held, well, what was the use in changing it?

She glanced out their window without raising her head to see it still dark. Fine. She’d sleep for a bit longer, then.

They had such a long day ahead.

Dahlia didn’t care for the scones at the league.

Not they that were hard as a rock, no, because they weren’t, and no one would like them that way.

It was the fact that they were near perfect. Not burnt, which, again, she could do without. It was the flavor.

Overpowering. Cheri, pecha, rawst, you name it and the scone was packed full of it. It was too much. It was a scone, not a strudel.

“You’re making that face again.”

She scrunched her nose up more and dropped her breakfast pastry. To her right, Thorton breathed out a sigh.

“I know, I know, it’s-”

“Not how it was when Cynthia was here.”

He sighed again, taking a bite of his own meal before replying. “Lots of things have changed. ‘M sorry our current champion doesn’t appreciate the sweetness of the bread more. Deal with it. We won’t be here that long.”

She slumped forward, her upper arm resting in full on the table while her palm lies on her forehead. “So you say. But do you really believe it?”

Thorton shrugged, disinterest in the topic beginning to take form. “The rangers were called.”

“Yeah.” She sat up, then, eyes brimming with . . something. “Do you think they’re qualified?”

“I think they’ve been through shit,” Thorton told her. “I think one of them’s traumatized, and that doesn’t go away. Just look at Maylene.” She grunts in understanding at the last bit. “But here’s the thing: That’s experience. They’ll know what to look for, what to expect. They’ll know how to handle themselves and the people they’re working with. So, yes. Damn right. I think they’re qualified.”

“Okay okay, you’ve convinced me,” she mumbled. “Just, you weren’t right there, with Kate. When she was telling Keith her location, that whole transmission, it was chilling. She was all cheery and shit, after just being put through an underwater cave-in. Said it was her way of dealing with things. Mentioned the last time was when a cargo ship she’d been on sank in the deep waters. That the ocean wasn’t her friend. That’s a shit way of dealing with things, y’know?”

“Sure.” He pushed his plate back, finished just before his appetite went. “Like I said, the girl’s traumatized. It happens. But she’s still pushing.” He leaned forward, cocking his head at her. “Like Argenta said, she’s a fighter. We just gotta trust in her.”

“Oh. You two are up early.”

Thorton expects it, but he still jumps along with Dahlia at Dawn’s voice as she enters, balancing a plate of food and a glass of juice. She pads over and takes a seat across from them, and for a moment, they just stare.

Her eyes were sunken, frown in place, expression worn in general. It’d been like that for a bit now, ever since . .

Her clothes were rumpled, clearly not sleepwear which suggested she’d been up walking through the castle. Again. But she wasn’t dressed for the day either, like she’d thrown on something in a hurry without a care.

What was always interesting and equally disturbing to see were the twin scarves. Today was no different. The red one was coiled tightly around her neck, like it couldn’t get closer, while the pink hung loosely from her shoulders, sides draped down over her chest. It was clear which was prioritized.

Her eyes narrowed, and she stabbed a piece of food before scoffing. “What,” she muttered, chewing slowly as they broke from their trance.

“Where are we going today,” Dahlia asked, recovering first.

Dawn swallowed and paused, thinking. “Dunno,” she settled on. “Wherever they want.”

The frontier brains share a look. For now, they supposed that’d have to be enough.

The port city might actually have been a bit chillier than where they touched down first in the region, which was . . odd, at least for her. Nearly all of Almia’s townships were set by the sea, after all. And it was decent there. The few inhabited spaces that weren’t near the ocean were in the mountains and this was, well . .

Rhythmi spun around after departing the train, her luggage spinning along with her figure. She pulled her League-issued cloak tighter as the breeze picked up.

Nope, they were definitely at sea level.

She made her way out of the station, using the hand not clutching at her suitcase handle to dig out the map she’d been given by the champion. She remembered it being dual-sided as well as having a key and- yep!

The map of elevation showed Canalave and the surrounding area to the east as very flat and very low. The land did rest against a small cliffside to the west, but it wasn’t very prominent-

“Oof,” she choked out, staggering back upon ramming into someone, the map fluttering from her grip.

Before she could issue an apology, the person turned around. Rhythmi thought she had experience being tall, or at least, being around tall people. But this person was . .

The man before her chuckled awkwardly before she stopped her staring, head raised as if she stood before a skyscraper.

“I’m sorry,” she uttered, doing her best to bow slightly without having her bags slip from her grasp.

The man waved her off. “No no, I was in a precarious position anyway, and- oh, you, wait . .” He paused, reaching to grasp at his chin, eyes fluttering closed in thought. They opened back up with a pop a moment later and he nodded as he looked back to her. “You’re the operator from Fiore, aren’t you?”

Rhythmi deadpanned with a hesitant smile, her mouth falling open slightly. She regained herself after a moment, but her tone was still lackluster. “Sir, there are no operators in Fiore. They’re all stationed in Almia.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, my fault,” he waved off, reaching a hand up to rub his head sheepishly.

“I suppose you were the person I needed to meet, seeing as you were expecting an operator?”

“Yes,” the man said, nodding. “My apologies, miss. I am Byron, the gym leader here in Canalave. I’ve been instructed to guide you to your operating base, and also to keep an eye on you, make sure you stay safe.”

She frowned at that, the thought of her well being being left to someone she didn’t know unsatisfactory. Also the fact she was simply assigned a burly bodyguard for the heck of it, like this was some show. And the gym leader, at that. Wouldn’t he be busy enough? Besides, it’s not like she couldn’t defend herself. She’d picked up a thing or two from working with the Union. Byron seemed to pick up on that, as he leaned forward slightly.

“Think of it this way, then: You’re not exactly in the safest place in the world, right? So-” He broke off upon seeing horror dawn on her face. “Oh, no no not here! Here is good! I meant, well, Sinnoh in general right now. And your friends are on the case to hunt down whoever or whatever is causing this. And since you have ties to them, it just, well, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful, right?”

Now thoroughly disturbed, Rhythmi just nodded, very blatantly, and then realized the guy in front of her trying doesn’t know her name. “I’m Rhythmi.” She stuck her sole free hand out. “Pleased to meet you.”

Byron shook it and gestured behind him. “Suppose we should get going, then.”

“Hm.” She nodded to him and then looked down at her map. She made to hunch over, letting go of her suitcase handle to grasp at her bag straps, but Byron waved her off and did it himself, handing it to her as she straightened back up.

“That’s a pretty fancy one,” He noted. “Don’t think they make those much anymore. Is it-”

“League issued, yes.” Rhythmi frowned at this news, though. She’d make sure to take care of it.

#writing #tron #the reality of nightmares #pokemon ranger #soa #dppt

7 notes · View notes

lesbian-diana-cavendish · 7 years ago

Text

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

words: 1221

A/N: hey guys, here’s my first entry for @dianakko-week ! its set in my light years away AU and it can also be found on ao3, enjoy!

Diana sat quietly in the med-bay alongside the two other doctors, and lifelong friends, Hannah and Barbara. The three had just finished up an exhausting day of dealing with some mass allergic reaction in the agricultural wing. How it started was still a mystery, but Doctor Antonenko assured them the issue would be solved by the end of the week. So, after nearly 8 hours of going through an impromptu physical on every scientist in that branch, the three women were happy to be off their feet.

None of them were actually working, they were just sitting back in silence staring at their blank monitors. Diana was the first to lean forward with the intention of starting one of the many reports, when her comm started buzzing in her pocket. The other two women let out pained groans.

“Relax,” Diana sighed, resisting her own groan, “I'm sure it's not another case.” At least she hoped it wasn't. She quickly fished it out and opened it up, “Hello?”

“Diana!” she recognized the voice immediately, a smile forming on her face as she stood up to leave the room, momentarily looking back to her friends, “don't worry girls, it's just a personal call.”

As the door closed behind her she heard a quiet ‘it's probably her girlfriend’ and a chorus of giggles. Pretending she didn't hear that, she brought to comm back up to her ear, “apologizes Akko, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Diana! Meet me the hydroponics lab! Now!” The woman pulled the comm away with a wince; her friend had always been on the loud side.

Bringing the comm back up to her face, she calmly replied, “Akko, what's this about?”

“Just hurry!"

***

Diana briskly made her way down the hallway, counting the rooms as she passed. She couldn't fathom what Akko could possibly need her in hydroponics for, as Diana didn't think she had any friends who worked in the lab. She supposed her questions would be answered momentarily as she came up to the lab’s door.

When the doors slid open Diana saw a familiar figure standing with her back to the door, facing out into space. Diana quietly made her way behind the petite woman and gently tapped her shoulder. She couldn't help but laugh as the woman let out a shriek, jumping a foot into the air. Upon landing, she whipped around to face the still giggling Diana.

“Diaaaaana,” she whined sticking her lip out in an adorable pout, “you can't just sneak up on me like that”

The guilty party covered her mouth to hide her smile, “I apologize Akko, but you make it much too easy.”

Akko crossed her arms with a huff turning away in mock anger, “I guess you don't want to know why I called you here.”

“Akko…”

“Fine, you convinced me,” Akko grabbed Diana's hand and yanked her to the window, “look!” She waved her hand in the general direction of the window.

Diana followed her hand with her eyes trying to see whatever it was Akko wanted her to see, “yes, it does seem extra dark out today” she drawled.

Akko yelp as she plastered her face against the window, looking for whatever mystery was out there. “No, no, no, no, Alcor!” she called out to the ever-present AI stepping back from the window, “where do we have to go?!” Diana bit her lip in frustration at the cryptic question.

Alcor’s voice crackled to life, “Ms. Kagari, due to the rotation of the Ring, it can currently be viewed at the Agricultural labs.”

Diana wanted to throw her arms up; the answer had been just as cryptic as the question, “Alcor, can you please tell me what’s go-”

Akko grabbed her hand again, yanking her away from the window and back into the hall, “no questions! It’s a surprise!”

“A-kko!” Diana cried in protest, tripping over herself as she was pulled along by the energetic woman.

The two quickly made their way to the other lab, weaving through the rows of crops scattered throughout the room, as Akko made a bee-line to the window. “Ah-ha! Diana, come over here, you can see it!” The woman jumped from foot to foot, like a child on Christmas morning.

Diana shook her head, a small smile forming on her face; Akko was too cute for her own good. Stepping up beside Akko and looking out, she couldn't help letting out a gasp at what she saw, “Akko, is that a-”

“Star? Yup, no one up on the bridge could believe it either!”

Diana shook her head in disbelief, all the sensors suggested that they should see plenty of stars, yet it had been a whole year since they've been able to see even one.

until now.

Dead ahead was a single star shining bright and strong, after so long it was incredible. The two women stared out in awe, neither saying a word.

A pause. Then another. Everything seemed to slow down. Even the ever present hum of the artificial gravity relays seemed to fade into the background.

It was Akko who broke the silence first, hesitantly asking a single question, “do you ever feel homesick?” Diana turned to face the younger woman, who was still looking out into space, a strange look on her face.

She felt a pang in her heart as she considered the question. It was true she had left her mother behind, as well as some other family and an abundance of wealth. But now that her mother was gone? Well, she supposed she really wasn't. Despite leaving those things behind, here on the Luna Nova she had her two closest friends, a rigorous job exploring the final frontier, and of course, she also had Akko.

But what about Akko? She must have left family behind. In all the years Diana had known Akko, she had seen a wide variety of emotions come from the woman, but the ache Diana felt in her chest at Akko’s tone and words was something new. To be frank, she didn't like it.

Without thinking, Diana wrapped her arm around Akko’s shoulders and pulled her in, ignoring the small squeak. “What prompted that question Akko?” she asked softly. She felt the ache in her chest replace itself with a warm fuzzy feeling as Akko relaxed into her.

Akko shrugged, “I don't know I guess I just thought ‘what if that was our sun?’, which I know isn't possible - it couldn't be, but it just came to mind, and I don't know it made me think of home,” her words came out fast and jumbled as she awkwardly looked down at her boots, “it's silly, I know.”

Diana gave Akko’s shoulder a light squeeze, pulling her closer, “I don't think it's silly at all.”

Akko let out an appreciative hum and wrapped her arm around Diana's waist, “Well, whichever star it is, it sure is a beautiful sight.” It was Diana's turn to make a hum of agreement. The two fell back into a comfortable silence, enjoying the closeness.

“Not to ruin the moment, but I think we both need to go to med-bay right now. It’s getting hard to breathe and I’m itching all over.”

“I was really hoping that was just emotions running high...let's go please.”

#dianakko week #dianakkoweek #diakko #dianakko #diana cavendish #akko kagari #lwa #little with academia #my post #My writing #lya au #also let me know if u dont like this format

49 notes · View notes