#For a safety violation

[ihazyourkitty]

Why John Hargrove is full of it p.1

Multiple people have expressed interest in the detailed Blackfish rebuttal I am working on. The plan is to put it in video essay format on Youtube. This not only has the potential to reach a larger audience, but it also gives me more creative/expressive flexibility that would otherwise be difficult to get across in just written text.

This project will not be completed for quite some time, as there are a lot of things to cover. However, I did want to provide a short glimpse into some things I've uncovered thus far.

You see, I plan on not only refuting the movie itself, but also covering the consequences of Blackfish, and major figures like Naomi Rose, Ingrid Visser, etc. So as part of this project, I am listening to the eBook version of John Hargrove's Beneath the Surface for the second time. It's..... so.... much..... fun.....

*sigh* Warning, there's a long rant ahead. TL;DR John Hargrove comes off as very full of himself in this book, and it's annoying.

______

Now, on a purely emotional, literary level I guess, the book is certainly very gripping. It's difficult to put down, even when you know that much of what is alleged therein is utter bullcrap. However, I don't think this is just because the whole "little-guy turns against evil corporation" trope makes for good storytelling across the board. I think it's also because, unlike Mark Simmons' Killing Keiko, or Hazel McBride's I Still Believe, John Hargrove's Beneath the Surface has the luxury of both professional editing, and a co-author (Howard Chia-Eoan).

To be clear, I'm not saying this as dig against Hazel McBride or Mark Simmons. I bring this up merely to illustrate the stark contrast here. As far as I know, their works were self published, or at least lacking the same polish and publicity from big name publishers, or sensationalist documentaries.

However, this contrast wouldn't be so noteworthy to me were it not for these two things I'm increasingly noticing in this reread of Beneath the Surface:

It is never clearly stated which parts were written by Hargrove, and which were ghost written by Chia-Eoan... but the amount of contradictions and shoehorned information in here gives me some serious suspicions.

John Hargrove... seems incredibly full of himself!

I don't have the time to elaborate on #1 right now, so we'll just talk about #2 today. John Hargrove is almost never in the wrong. He is always painted as the hero, the true advocate for these animals. You don't hear much about the other trainers he worked with or learned from. Mostly, it's just about him. He bemoans the allegedly poor conditions SeaWorld's animals are kept in, while simultaneously boasting about all his accomplishments with them. He speaks of differing perspectives between him and some of the other trainers, but seldom elaborates on what exactly those differences were. Instead, he usually just frames it in a sanctimonious "me vs. them" way.

The closest he gets to admitting any mistakes he had to learn from is when he recounted an aggressive incident with Freya at Marineland Antibes, and even then.... the whole reason why that incident (allegedly) happened was because Hargrove overestimated his training/waterworks abilities with a whale he didn't have a relationship with. His admission of that mistake is then overshadowed by the rather self-righteous tone he frames the resolution with. All the success was about him. You don't hear anything about how he worked with the other trainers there, what they brought to the table, and certainly not the stronger, lasting relationships they had with Freya. It's not that he had to mention them by name, but he didn't even mention them at all!

To be fair, this interpretation is partly subjective on my part. Still, as someone who is personally working in animal husbandry right now (albeit not with marine mammals), the gaping holes in this narrative raises some red flags.

Here's some free advice to anyone interested in working in the zoo/aquarium industry: I have been told by multiple hiring managers that they don't want someone who "just wants to work with the animals, and not deal with people." That's not how this works. You still have to work with people in some form or another.

It doesn't matter which animals you are working with. When you're on an animal husbandry/training team, you gotta ask for/provide help, seek/give feedback, communicate with other departments, etc. Complaints, conflict and disagreements will inevitably happen, but you gotta be mature about it.

And yes, in that process... you are going to make mistakes, and you're going to have to own up to them! It's part of how you learn. You're also going to inevitably work with people who don't see things the same way.

The people who can't do this tend to not only get stuck in their own way, but are more likely to start resenting coworkers and/or management whenever disagreements happen. They'll constantly complain about how other people do things, but then can't/won't take constructive feedback themselves. It's worse when it's someone with more experience under their belt because of the massive ego. Let me be clear: this kind of mindset does not help your animals! It only creates a toxic work environment that's resistant to change!

DO. NOT. BE. THIS. PERSON!!!!

No, this does not mean you can't vent frustrations. No this does not mean that you can't take pride in your work. It means that you gotta be able to swallow your pride, and not alienate other people.

So, what does all that have to do with the contrast mentioned earlier?

Like Hargrove, McBride details her career journey, but doesn't just paint it all in glamour. She talks about her setbacks, how she grew, things she learned from other people, the internships she did, the grunt work she was willing to do, etc.

Killing Keiko has less to do with the details of Mark Simmons' career path, but he does give credit to other people where it is due, even at times towards those he fundamentally disagreed with. I can remember one part where he explicitly admitted that he made a mistake too, and tellingly, it was in an instance where he played the "I've been doing this for years" card. In the very next sentence he admitted it was the wrong thing to say in that situation, and highlighted the perspective he was missing in that moment.

These things are conspicuously absent in Beneath the Surface. I don't remember anything of the sort that stood out when I first read the book, and thus far it's certainly not there in my second time around. The first third of the book is dedicated to how he dreamed of becoming a trainer as a kid, and the path he took to get there. Most of this path, though, is painted in glamor, when the reality is.... the path to getting into animal husbandry isn't particularly glamorous. Not only do you have go to college, but you also have to settle for various unpaid internships or volunteer gigs, and then apply for multiple jobs only to get several no's before it works out (to say nothing of how underpaid zookeepers/aquarists/trainers are).

Hargrove, on the other hand, kept pestering lead marine mammal trainers at SeaWorld since he was a kid, practiced his swimming/diving abilities, and started his degree in psychology. Then, as luck would have it, an apprentice trainer position opened up at SW San Antonio, and when he got the job, he jubilantly quit college. Not much is said about what kind of volunteer work he did before that. I think he did some stuff with marine mammal rescue in Texas, but I'll have to go back and reread to be sure... in any event, I wish I'd heard more about the experience he got besides swimming and pestering the SW animal training department.

And like.... great, he got the job, but it seemed more by luck than by the sweat of his brow. Then he balked that he was put in the SeaLion Stadium, and/or that he had to spend a lot of time washing dishes and spotting before even being allowed to work directly with a whale, which like..... yeah? I don't know what you were expecting dude.

(Btw, this part isn't just me being nit-picky, Duncan Versteegh from ML Antibes corroborates Hargrove's resistance to doing grunt work like cleaning)

Whenever mentioning people at SW who didn't want to work at Shamu Stadium, Hargrove couldn't understand how anyone wouldn't want that.... because heaven forbid other people have different preferences? To be fair, from what I've heard of SW work culture in general, Shamu Stadium is kind of painted as the glamorous A-team, but DANG does Hargrove really lean into that attitude!

Later on, he detailed some of the conflicts he had with SW's entertainment department. At one point his manager explicitly told him he needed learn to get along better with other departments. And like... yeah... yeah you do!

Look, I'm not interested in doing blanket apologia for SeaWorld. I'm sure Hargrove was in the right more than once when he'd argue with people, but I'm also not convinced that the whole of the entertainment department, management, et al., were just a bunch of unfeeling jerks who didn't care about the animals.

This part actually ground my gears quite a bit. Before I became an aquarist, I was an educator, and sometimes I would overhear certain husbandry staff gossip about us in a really patronizing way whenever there were miscommunications. Not that they never had valid reasons to complain, they did, but to be treated like you're just a dumb educator/guest services person is not pleasant, and certainly not professional. I don't know how common this is at other places, but I bring this up to illustrate the importance of being able to work with other departments, especially in the face of disagreements or miscommunication.

That Beneath the Surface paints Hargrove's inability to do this as a virtue rather than as the character flaw that it is... well.... it's um... it's a choice. And it's telling.

Again, some of this interpretation is subjective on my part. Ultimately, none of us can know for sure what is in someone else's heart. Hargrove does seem to sincerely care about the animals, despite the narcissism. However, the vast majority of people who are going to be reading his book are not people who have spent much if any time working in the zoo industry, and thus may not pick up on some of these things. I'm not the only one to point these things out either.

So even if one is against keeping orcas in captivity, I think being aware of the egos behind figures like Hargrove is important. When you get to the end of his book, you would think that all his former colleagues are, at best, just timid little clogs in a corporate machine, brainwashed to do as SW says. This is just not true. These people are dedicated to their animals, and have worked very hard to get where they are at. Some have gone on to get their masters, or PhD's, provide expertise to other facilities, or take part in rescues, etc., and they did it without chasing clout.

SW Corporate should absolutely treat their employees better, but their treatment of them pales in comparison to how people like Hargrove basically erase their accomplishments altogether. In this way, he tries to have it both ways... his time at SW proves how much of an expert he is, you know, because he was a senior trainer with two decades of experience after all! Oh, but when someone else from the field speaks up to refute what he says, nope.... their accomplishments don't matter, they're just brainwashed. If that doesn't scream "massive ego", then I don't know what does.

I'm only halfway through the book on this second round, so there is a chance I'll come back to correct some things here. I do encourage people to try to read this book themselves and come to their own conclusions. You don't have to buy it either, check your local library (it's how I got a hold of this eBook).

[theraedar]

joyride 🛵💨💙

[kensatou]

the most rancid man alive

[brainmuncher]

Go in Danny. Nothing bad will happen Danny. You definitely won't die. :)

Today's warmup sketch was an experiment in perspective. Decided to try out drawing the Fenton's lab. I might clean this up and make it an actual drawing someday but here's the sketch for now.

(Unofficial thanks to @daily-dose-of-danno for the screenshots that I used for reference. They were really helpful :> )

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*glances at all the your boyfriend posts on my dash* im calling protective services

[anobjectshowguy]

I hope people in the OSC (and other fandoms in general) who are ok with or neutral about Kosa realize that not only will we lose a bunch of platforms that allow us to interact with each other (Tumblr, discord, Ao3, Wattpad, Twitter, YouTube, etc) but will also get rid of at least 80-95% of our fandom.

The OSC consists mostly of people between 13-17 who (if Kosa goes through the Senate and Houses of Representatives and gets passed as a law) will most likely no longer have access to YouTube and other social platforms which actively kills almost all the people who read and watch Object Shows!

By visiting and sharing animated shows like II or BFDI those creators make money which gives them the means to keep making their shows and paying their animators, voice actors, writers and so much more. This bill will actively get rid of most of the people who watch these shows which will cause a large loss in support and revenue for these creators and will most likely mean the end for any smaller object show.

Object show comics rely on people sharing them around in fandom spaces since they’re not animated and put on YouTube like animated object shows are. By losing these spaces and the people who support their content these creators will no longer be able to reach a large audience and get the support they need to continue their comics. This means that we will lose a lot of the comics that the OSC has!

Most of the content you see in the OSC is made by minors, which this bill will actively destroy and thus kill this fandom and many others!

So I am begging of you OSC and other communities, Please please please sign petitions, tell your senators and representatives that you don’t want this bill to pass, and tell anyone that you can reach about how this Bill is a violation of privacy and minors' rights! Re-blog anything you see with helpful information about what Kosa is and keep talking about it! We need to tell people about it so that this doesn’t go through the Senate. Remember, the final day is February 26, we don’t have that long!!!

Here’s some helpful resources:

 https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/07/you-can-help-stop-these-bad-internet-bills

[preservationofnormalcy]

[Somewhere deep in the Bronx there’s a warehouse building with a big sign that reads “Carpet Heaven,” and I’m standing outside of it. When I blinked, it changed to “OPN Site 27.” It stayed like that after I looked at it again - a feature of the Office’s “memetic masking” that hides their locations from those not exposed to the supernatural. Or “Extranormal,” as is the Office’s preferred term. Site 27 is the official name for the location - though the staff that work there call it something else: the Station.

Graffiti dots the bricks of the building’s exterior, following me up the small stairs to the building’s entrance. There’s a nondescript door that buzzes as I approach, quietly unlatching. Past the doors, security towers loom in front of me. An electronic voice asks me to place my belongings in a tray and slide them into a conveyor. I do as I’m asked, but I’m somewhat confused - why does this place need so much security?]

A few moments later, I retrieve my things from the tray and keep moving. I’ve become used to the intentional plainness of Office locations. I’m always torn as to what it means. In a place like this, it’s obviously meant to put people off. This is Carpet Heaven, the most boring place in the world. Every panel, every wall, every chair seems to be chosen with the sole purpose of being as unremarkable as possible. But then, many interior locations within the Office are similarly designed. They’re not designed to fool anyone. Did the designers just get used to it?]

[My thoughts are interrupted as I walk into the tiny reception room, a desk with a few chairs and a single fake potted plant. A man stops his conversation with the receptionist, looking me up and down. He’s short and stocky, heavyset, a man clearly used to physical labor - and judging by the look on his face, not used to being inconvenienced at work. His hairy arms folded over a broad chest, his thick eyebrows scrunched into a wary suspicion. A thick mustache completes the look of a blue collar dad, close to retirement but not close enough.]

B] Hendricks. Ma’am.

M] Mr Koppel?

B] Call me Barry.

M] I hear you’re the person to talk to when it comes to occupational health and safety in the Office.

B] I got a reputation for it.

M] I saw the poster about, uh….unstable reality zones, and I wanted to ask you about it.

B] About the zones, or our response to ‘em.

M] Sort of…both if that’s okay. I figured a quick tour wouldn’t be out of the question.

[He nods, his arms not moving from their position across his chest. His voice had an air of curt evasiveness, clearly not enjoying my questions. Now, there’s a moment of awkward silence.]

M] You seem annoyed, Barry.

B] Yeah, well. Let’s just say I wasn’t real happy when I heard you were coming over. Especially today.

M] What’s today?

B] Work meeting later. Something I didn’t think I’d have to start late, and I hope I won’t have to.

M] I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.

B] No. You won’t.

[It’s a veiled threat, but his tone doesn’t veil it very well. He gives the receptionist a look that she returns, and jerks his head slightly, leading me through the door deeper into the facility. Past the doors, it looks like something you’d expect from a government facility: bare concrete and pipes, emergency lights every several yards. It all looks very old. At this point, Barry seems to catch himself, his tone shifting to that of a practiced but bored tour guide as he leads me down the hallway.]

B] This is OPN Facility 27, known as the Northeastern Power Facility, or to the people that actually work here, the Station. The Station was discovered in 1932 during Operation Doorway, an attempt to investigate rumors of spatially-noncompliant buildings in the United States - that is, buildings bigger on the inside. After mapping and cataloging it, the Station had the distinction of being one of the few spatially noncompliant facilities grandfathered into current extranormal building code.

[Just down the hall is a locker room, which we move through. Barry points to a sign that reads “Hard Hat Area Past This Point” and hands me a hat taken off of a nearby peg.]

B] In other words, this facility is one of the only places in the US legally allowed to be bigger on the inside. The Office did this cause, for reasons that still ain’t totally clear, the Station anomalously produces enough electricity to power the entire eastern seaboard with no energy input. This building powers every Office facility this side of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon. New York, DC, Philly, Boston. Further than that, with hydrogen. 

[Opening the next set of doors, the facility opens up substantially, a wide open space that looks more like I’d think a warehouse would look. The ceiling several stories above, massive industrial shelves at the edges of the space, machines operating in distinct areas of the room. A forklift beeping away, carrying yellow drum barrels on a pallet. A few workers were here and there, some of them giving Barry a quizzical look that he didn’t return.]

B] It needs people like us to maintain the works during reality shifts, pump out the byproduct, keep everything in as much working order as we can.

[Another set of doors ahead - a massive sign above them reading “End of Geometrically Compliant Building Space.” The hazard symbol on the sign depicted a building within a larger building, the larger of the structures emblazoned with the eye symbol and a question mark. Another sign on the door read “Audio-Memetic Inoculation Equipment Required” with a depiction of a head wearing both a hard hat and large headphones. Barry stopped and jerked a thumb at the door. His voice was low and serious.]

B] Like any spatially-noncompliant structure, this place doesn’t make sense. This wall right here is the absolute limit of what the building’s size should allow, and as you can see, it keeps going.

[He paused, looking back the way we came for a moment.]

B] When the Office figured out they could use this place for free power, they rushed in. But the Station….it didn’t take kindly to that. It doesn’t like intruders. The higher-ups don’t like hearing it, but this place is….kinda alive. It grows, changes. We don’t know who built it, or even if anyone built it. Coulda just appeared one day. From the late 30’s to the early 40’s, it was…a lot of death, lotta guys going home without hands or legs or an eye. Machines not working right, hallways shifting around, pipe structures growing suddenly. There’s places, deep in the belly of this fucking machine, that I’ll never go…we’ve blocked off rooms where time runs in reverse, or that swap temperature extremes every forty-five seconds. Lotta guys like me laid down their lives figuring this place out, mapping it. That’s what the signs and posters are for. Every warning in this building is written in blood.

[He gestured to a worker at a nearby desk, who got up and reached for a tray.]

B] Just past these doors, there’s a hallway in complete silence. Not just a lack of sound, pure silence. If you listen to the lack of sound, you go insane. Understand?

M] I don’t understand why you can’t just…avoid it, or unravel it, or—

B] The Office ain’t gonna just put it’s head in the sand, ma’am. It can’t. And all respect to the wizards and shit upstairs, but sometimes you can’t just wave your hand and make it go away, either. The Station is important. Without us, the entire Office goes down. It’s the sacrifice we make. We gotta deal with the situation in front of us, and sometimes the situation’s got teeth. 

[The worker walked up, offering Barry two pairs of headphones and a clipboard. He took them, checked them over, and handed one to me.]

B] Here. Press the button on the right side, you’ll hear elevator music and nothing else. This’ll protect you from the silence. Then initial the sign out sheet.

[I did so, sliding the bulky device over my head and hearing generic Muzak once I hit the nub on the right. At this point, I didn’t question much of anything. They knew what they were doing. I took the clipboard from him - the sheet was keeping track of the headphones, calling them safety equipment. I wrote my initials on the sheet, noting I was a ‘visitor’, and as I did I noticed Barry and the other worker conversing in sign language.

I was slightly surprised at first. But it made sense - if you had to work a lot of the time in silence with these headphones on, it might be worth the time to teach everyone ASL. I tried not to betray any comprehension. They didn’t need to know I’d grown up with a deaf cousin, had a deaf roommate in college, that while I was rusty I could understand most of what they were saying. The two men gestured furtively, quickly, an ‘accent’ that tinged their words.]

<We have to postpone union meeting?> 

<No. Same time. Won’t take long. Lady is looking for scapegoat.>

<From Upstairs?>

<Unlikely. Ghost-talking I-R-E-N-E telling me she’s been asking around lots of departments.>

<Why?>

<Don’t know. Could be politics.>

<LA?>

[Barry looked over his shoulder, and I tried to look nonchalant, putting the clipboard on a hook by the door and giving him a smile and a thumbs up.]

<Maybe.>

[He nodded and opened the door. I felt a physical sensation as I passed the threshold, and it was silent. It was a silence so intense I could feel it on my skin. When my feet hit the floor I felt nothing, not even the vibration through my own body. It was oppressive, covering me in a heavy blanket. I heard the music in my ears but I was intensely aware that a bundle of plastic and electronics was all that stood between me and…that. I felt like an eternity. I tried to focus on the music as my vision swam, having to stop to breathe when we rounded a corner. When we finally passed through the hallway, taped marks on the floor told me where it was safe to take off my headphones. I was almost out of breath, a little disoriented.]

B] You get used to it.

M] Do you?

B] You gotta if you work here, ma’am.

[His voice slipped back into tour guide mode as the space widened again. Huge doorways on each of the three walls ahead, large enough for a vehicle to pass through. Each passageway had different signage, and two had a conveyor belt stretched across the room, running parallel above us with clear markings on the floor underneath them.]

B] To the left we have the Gearbox, straight ahead is Onto-Runoff Byproduct Packaging, and to the right is the Dynamos, where we try and funnel all power generated by the Station so it can be directed to other facilities or converted into hydrogen energy storage. 

M] Onto-Runoff?

B] That, ma’am, is the stuff on the posters.

[He pointed up to the conveyor belt. Yellow barrels traveled across the room, stamped with the Office logo on one side, and a depiction of an eye on the other.]

B] It’s a byproduct of the Station’s works. The labcoats have been studying it for decades. They’re not real sure what it is, just that it…kind of isn't. It technically doesn’t actually exist. No mass, can't be detected on any spectrum they got. Theory is that we're not actually seeing it, just the absence it creates. Pure, concentrated entropy, runoff from the Station creating energy from nothing. You can’t violate laws of spacetime without some consequences, and in this case it’s creating all this…almost-kinda-real entropy that gets everywhere if we don’t clean it up.

M] Sounds like the Ontophages.

B] Yeah, like that. They think they’re related, but we ain’t seen an Ontophage down here in ages. This non-stuff drops off pipes down in the works, or leaks out of compressors. Pools in lower areas, or gums up machines. If it touches anything outside of the works that exists, it starts to cause what the Office calls ontological dissolution - it gradually stops existing, like an acid that melts reality. Some of it gets processed for the Office’s use, some of it goes to the folks at the Yellow Circle, a good chunk of it goes to long term storage.

M] What does the Office use it for?

[At this, Barry gives me a sidelong look as we approach a small office in the corner between two junctions, little more than a shack.]

B] That part’s classified. We don’t even know. They don’t tell us. Could be a secondary energy process, could be they use it to contain something….could be a weapon.

[The tone in that last phrase…we enter the shack and Barry grabs a drink from a water cooler.]

M] You sound like you have an idea of what it’s used for.

B] A hunch. This stuff is dangerous. It’s half the reason we made the Union way back.

M] The Union? 

[I remembered them signing that word - two fingers extended on each hand, moved in a horizontally circular motion.]

B] The North American Supernatural Worker’s Guild. Started in ‘42 after the big paracompressor explosion down in sublevel 17. The Office kept pushing us, we kept cutting corners, and eventually five people died. Including my great uncle. After that, my grandfather started the Union to push for better working conditions and hazard pay. 

[His tone is softer now, taking a drink. He gestures to the Unstable Reality Zones poster on the wall, a copy of which began my trip here.]

B] I could talk all day about the history of it. We ain’t perfect, of course. Didn’t accept nonhumans until ‘63, which my father went to his grave ashamed of, but we’re the reason the Office more or less abides by the safety guidelines we’ve come up with. Without that there’s a work stoppage, and everything grinds to a halt.

M] Has there been a lot of conflict between the Union and the Office in the past?

B] It’s all conflict, ma’am. The Union and the Office are engaged in a state of irreconcilable disagreement. They wanna pay less and get more, we want better pay and better, safer work. The whole history of the Office can be seen through that lens. 

M] Do you see the posters as a win for the Union?

B] Without a doubt. You know the bodycount we’d have if we didn’t keep drilling all our safety precautions into everyone’s heads? Safety win, morale win. We need all the help we can get.

M] What do you mean?

[Barry finishes his drink, looking away, through the window looking out onto the junction.]

B] Ehh. I’ve said enough already.

M] You too, huh. 

B] Hm? 

M] Everywhere I go in this organization I’m being bounced off walls. Secrecy seems to be something you and the office both abide by. The Office acts like it’s giving me clearance, but….they’re curating my job. 

B] Mmmh. 

M] Everyone I talk to is knowledgeable about what I’m asking, sure, but they’re also….company people. All of them are either trying to cover their ass or they honestly believe that they’re doing the most important job in the world. The only person I’ve met so far with an honest opinion on the Office is you. I thought I might get some actual answers. 

B] About what? 

M] Anything. How the Office determines normality, the numbers stations, the identity of the Director…what happened in Los Angeles. 

[He stiffens.]

B] I don’t know anything about that. 

M] You said the Runoff could be used as a weapon - 

B] I said I had a hunch. Don’t put words in my mouth. 

M] What’s your hunch based on? 

B] Listen. I’m one of those guys covering my ass. If I say something I shouldn’t or I fuck up, I don’t get a slap on the wrist. I'm not some spokesman for the Board of Infernal Affairs. I’m a union officer, and we’re already on thin goddamned ice with the Office. Secrecy is a tool. We both use it for our own goals. 

M] So you can’t help me. 

B] I’m walking you back. This is fucking over. 

M] That’s…probably for the best. 

[I let the moment pass before I speak again.]

M] I don’t want to keep you from your union meeting tonight.

[He stops in his tracks, shooting a look over his shoulder. His face moves from surprise to realization to suspicion. After a moment he half turns back to me.]

B] Ma’am, what are you here for?

M] I just…want answers. All of these interviews have been someone beating around the bush because they’re scared. After your speech about it, I thought the union would be people who could stand up.

[Barry hesitates, frowns, and silently turns back to keep walking. My face burns in embarrassment, my heart racing. This wasn’t worth it. I wanted answers but this wasn’t worth it, was it? Shame now, but what if I pushed a button I couldn’t un-press?

Barry doesn’t speak. We reenter the room of silence, mechanically putting our headphones back on. As we round the corner in the hallway again, he stops. Of course I can’t hear him, but his frame calls as if he’s letting out a heavy sigh. He turns to me, and signs.] 

<Back there, I was being honest. None of us know what happened, but we know something did. We have some shipment records that don’t make sense. Runoff shipped en masse to some site that’s not on public record anymore. Something called Project D-A-M-M-E-R-U-N-G. Our records are shredded. It’s like…>

[He trailed off - with signing, he sort of stared into space and tried to find the right words.]

<Like someone or something came in and tried to destroy everything to do with a certain subject, but only mostly succeeded. Like every fiftieth paper survived or was passed over. That’s what our meeting is about tonight. We know something happened and we’re deciding what to do next. You mentioned the stations. The stations are a part of it.> 

[He pulls a pen from his vest pocket and writes down an address, handing me the paper.]

<Memorize this address, then burn it before you leave. Bring P-E-P-P-E-R-M-I-N-T oil. Put it on before you go.  You’ll need it.>

(Buy the poster here.)

[evorathesylvurr]

I am writing the funniest script to a video essay ever. This is the first draft and it’s a 1 am ramble.

[entomolog-t]

G/t July : Thief 

Mark is not a fan of dirty lil feral tromping around in his food. Its unhygienic. 

---

I love the idea of a human who can’t stand borrowing. Not because they care about stolen crumbs, or the invasion of their privacy, but just because the idea of someone handling their food is gross.

Do you let your human friends grab food off your plate with their bare hands? Would you eat food that they stepped on? 

No. Of course not. Because its UNHYGENIC. 

Also bonus points if anyone spies the lil reference. 

[tytactical]

You have to be fucking kidding me

[tired-fandom-ndn]

Kim Kitsuragi really is king of minding his own fucking business huh. Harry will be like "I think this is illegal" and Kim's response is just "who cares" like yeah babe you're right, who fucking cares. I love him.

[thistransient]

紅樹林站附近 // near Hongshulin Station

[leiamcgonagall]

Overheard at robotics build session part five:

“It’s the iphone of military takeovers.”

“I love bearings that crunch, the sign of truly healthy bearings.”

“They’re crayons, you delinquents.”

“Safety isn’t as important as the wall of shame.”

“Here you go, if it’s a carcinogen do it outside.”

“A long time ago in the galaxy far far away that is robotics 2013…”

“What do you want from me, you foul creature?!!! I’m in hell!!! Hey, what do you put in for sine theta here?”

“I don’t know how it works, therefore it doesn’t exist.”

“Is that a reference to the hit natural sleep schedule, fuck you industrialization?”

“Worst case scenario only one of us dies. There’s not enough electricity in the world. I don’t fear electricity, electricity fears me. That’s why I’ve never been shocked more than three times in a day.”

“I went to the ER for stomach pains and left with a half a cast on my arm.”

On today’s agenda: how many safety violations can my team commit in one sitting

(Additional quote insanity)

[radio-show]

I love trigun fanart and fanfiction that portray Wolfwood as looking at all the crazy and the weird stuff and the alien nonsense or even just the artists trying to make the twins attractive or whatnot and Wolfwood just being the most normal person there. Just like "i aint paid enough for this."

[spider-mancan]

but like peter getting fucked by some random guy at a club because he is just fucking so fed up with waiting for tony to see him as an adult, he's giving up, but when tony sees Peter after he somehow just Knows there's cum dripping down Peter's thighs

queue tony shoving peter up against the wall because he's so jealous he's seeing red, tugging peter's pants down to check the damage, shoving his fingers inside with the feral urge to clean peter out

it's only when peter's knees give out that tony realizes he's finger fucking peter within an inch of his life. not intentional. but once he realizes what he's doing, he...well. speaking of feral.

they're both totally dressed and peter is covered in glitter and smells like amaretto sour and he's so fucking open when tony fumbles to get his dick out and just fucking slides in like an animal, some stranger's cum dribbling out around his cock, smearing over peter's taint

tony uses peter's underwear like reins, hiking them up into a french cut so he can pull peter back on to his dick and the sound is CRIMINAL it's a squelch and peter's moans and peter banging his head against the wall be he knows this is a mistake but it's so fucking good

and tony pushes peter's face into the wall and presses in close and asks peter -- angry and snarling -- if he's a whore, if that's what he wants to be, and if that's the case tony will turn him into one, anything for peter, anything for you kid

its meant to be mocking but peter cums in his pants so hard his vision goes white andh is moans choke out and tony still has his hand on the back of peter's neck like he's a dog to master

but tony keeps going because there's still cum in peter's ass and that's just too bad, tony's going to have to flood it out

he comes hard, and he's merciless in fucking peter through it. peter is sagging against the wall and tony doesn't pull out, presses closer, moves his hips so peter feels his soft cock inside and Knows

when tony pulls out cum drips onto the floor and tony pulls peter's underwear back up with a snap of the waistband, carefully rights peter's pants and reaches around, still panting in peter's ear, to delicately tuck peter's cock away and do up his belt buckle

peter's underwear is full of cum -- the stranger's, and two loads that are all peter. now tony's slides out of him slow and languid. peter ACHES. fuck. he has to livewithout this feeling. he CANT live without this feeling. dirty and wanted and full and empty.

peter's underwear is full of cum -- the stranger's, and two loads that are all peter. now tony's slides out of him slow and languid. peter ACHES. fuck. he has to livewithout this feeling. he CANT live without this feeling. dirty and wanted and full and empty.

and tony just gives peter a gentle pat on the ass and directs him towards peter's room. "you smell like sex." and peter thinks that probably means "you smell like me" but tony is still a little too feral to put the pieces together

blah blah blah peter is freaking out but there's a plug in his nightstand and when he goes to tony's room tony is sitting on the bed with his head in his hands and he looks at peter with those wilds eyes and peter just holds out the toy and says "i want to keep it"

because fuck you he's drunk and horny and in love, and tony doesn't need to make a whore out of him be peter is already kind of a whore, and he drops his pants and his underwear so tony can see the bruises and glitter on his knees, and he steps out. and he crawls onto the bed.

he presents his ass because tony's ferality is contagious, and tony strokes a hand up the back of peters thigh with fucking Reverence, rubs cum into peter's taint w his thumb until peter's cock is twitching, presses butterfly kisses to peters back while pushing in the plug

peter thinks tony would probably turn a blind eye to peter just falling asleep here in tony's bed, but he gets up. he picks up his pants and his briefs, hangs the cumsoaked underwear on tony's door knob before shutting the door behind him.

peter wakes up smelling like tony but the real question is whether tony is still going to love it.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

the first time you go to bufos classroom and the second time