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big1ron · 4 years ago

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Different nightmares for the Kamino guard

Woo! More clone wars. And just in time for bad batch. Fair warning this is meant to be part of a series I may never end up continuing, so go ahead and guess the plot twists. This is the first part of an ‘orders’ rework.

Tup had shot a jedi. Fives had no idea why or how his old friend could ever do something like this. It was as if he was sick or in some kind of trance. The separatists had already tried to stop him from reaching kamino once, so Fives would not let him fall into harms way again. The captain had assigned him to protect his friend, so he would. Even if he wasn’t assigned so he would. He was just as curious as everyone else as to what was happening and concerned for Tup’s safety.

During the flight to kamino fives talked to tup, reassuring him he would be fine, unsure if it was even true or if he could understand him in that state.

“Medical frigate 571 cleared for landing in bay 5” a voice rang out on the intercoms. This was to be a special case. Dean squad moved to secure this special transfer.

The five guards escorted fives and the hover gurney into the city and towards an examination room.

Nala se spoke with shak ti. They were discussing this special case. Fives was put in a separate room from who he was supposed to protect. This clued dean squad to the kaminoans intention immediately.

The captain that had accompanied the two was dismissed back to the battle field. The guards all knew he was the lucky one.

“You hear what was so special about this one?” One of the guards, Roy asked. Whispering over the comms though the helmets were sound proof. His head didn’t move a millimetre, no sign he was even speaking.He was distinguishable only by an ever so slightly different finger placement on his blaster.

“Heard he killed a Jedi” Nix responded, also hushed but slightly louder. He was distinguishable just by the near invisible slant of his hips as he favoured his left leg.

CT-2894, distinguishable by nothing, as he was damn near perfect, scanned this anomalous clone’s face. It stirred some kind of foreign feeling in him. Something like what he felt right after waking from the nightmares only he got. Of course, he didn’t say anything. He never did.

Once in the testing room, lama su is quick to start the hyper tests, near immediately giving the order to “administer the stimulant.”

The medical droid complied, jabbing a hypo into the bound clones chest.

“Remove his mask”

As the droid did so, the clone began struggling and writhing against the restraints. The dean squad adverted their eyes from the disturbing sight, except 2894, who couldn’t take his eyes away. Why? What did he feel about that clone?

The arc trooper who had been separated from the anomalous clone banged on the window between the rooms, distressed. He was shouting things to his droid, understandably upset over the treatment of who he was meant to protect. He calls out to shak ti, who while more composed than the trooper, also looks distressed. She presses a button that shades the window separating the two rooms.

“His reactions are normal. His reaction will subside.” Lama su says calmly, while imputing the results to her datapad. “The patient must be awake for the next round of tests.”

“I am not fond of these hyper tests.” The Jedi says, watching the clone concernedly.

“Yes, but they do give us all the information we need in a timely fashion.” Lama su says while tapping away on one of the control panels. “There does not seem to be any sign of infection in the blood.”

“How curious”

“The subject has tested negative on all counts. This clone seems to be in perfect health.”

“We must be missing something”

“Why am I here?” The clone on the table asks breathlessly as he wakes.

“Is he conscious?” Asks the Jedi to the kaminoan.

This causes the clone on the table to lock onto the Jedi, and somthing seems to switch in his head. “Follow orders. Kill Jedi. Kill Jedi!”

“Are you finished with your tests?” Asks the Jedi. “Sedate him.”

And the clone protests with his mantra of “kill the Jedi” until he losses consciousness again.

The Jedi and the kaminoan discuss the clone, but the kaminoan and the dean guards already know exactly what his fate is. He’s a defect. He’s liked a Jedi and expressed his intent to do so again. He was as good as dead the second he arrived. And it’s rare but cases like this have shown up before. The kaminoan insists upon it being some kind of nano virus, same excuse as always.

“The only way to find out what happened to this clone is to terminate him. And do a full molecular level autopsy.”

Roy’s shoulders fall ever so slightly. He knew this would happen. They all did. But still, to hear it is always different. 2894 stiffens his shoulders. There’s something off about this clone. For some reason, some gut feeling was telling him he did not want this clone dead.

One of the medical droids suggests a level 5 brain scan that might reveal the cause instead of termination, but lama su brushes the suggestion off, saying the clone is too weak.

The Jedi and the kaminoan get into a civil debate over the fate of the clone, with the Jedi wishing to take him to the Jedi temple alive. This general’s tried before. And she’s never won. But she leaves to speak to the Jedi council, and lama su leaves to speak to the prime minister.

The three guards watching the anomalous clone are silent, awaiting the decision. The sound of something hitting the window from the other side is the only noise other than the beeping of the machines.

The air was heavy, as they waited for news of this clones fate. None of them had known him personally, but that didn’t mean they would want him to die. 2894 never let himself grow attached to the clones passing through. Barely spoke to his own squad. But he had such a strange unexplainable draw towards this specific clone, that he couldn’t help but feel concern for him.

Soon Nala se returned however. Before the Jedi and with a syringe.

“It will be a painless death. And all our questions will be answered.”

For the first time in recent memory, 2894 felt panic. As if he had just woken form a nightmare only he ever seemed to get.

Why? Why this clone? Why did he care about this clone? That didn’t matter. He couldn’t let that happen.

He’d not planned for mutiny, but he was prepared for it.

He knew to kick for Nix’s left knee first, while he set his blaster for stun. He knew Roy always swung high first, when in range. He knew he was not from their batch and had a few tricks he didn’t remember learning. And he knew he had to keep that clone alive.

Kamino guards don’t get nightmares. At least not as violent, or frequent ones as 2894. His squad mates tell him this out of concern whenever they have to wake him up from one. Its not normal for a kamino guard. And 2894 would never tell them exactly what the nightmares were about.

But despite that, 2894 was the most perfect clone in dean squad. He barely talked to them outside what was necessary, and though he wasn’t unfriendly to them, he always seemed distant. He wasn’t from the same batch as Fly, Scale, Nix, or Roy. And when asked about his batch, would just go quiet.

2894 seemed much less a clone than a droid. Maybe his scores were higher than his squad, but the most human he seemed was when he woke up screaming from a nightmare.

So this was extremely unexpected. Or maybe all that was an early warning.

The ARC trooper that had been in the other room came rushing in. 2894 couldn’t read his intention straight away. This second he took was too long. ARC troopers are fast, and this one had him on the ground in an instant.

“What are you doing?” He demanded immediately

“I don’t know!” 2894 answered truthfully before amending with “protecting the patient until further orders.” That slip up will have cost him his life. The excuse he came up with was good, but it came a moment too late. Surely this ARC trooper would punish him for it.

2894 awaited his fate in the seconds the ARC stayed silent.

“They would have killed him” the ARC stated the obvious as he looked towards the kaminoan.

“Yes”

“But the Jedi hasn’t returned yet.”

“No”

The ARC was quiet again, adjusting his hold on the guard

“You weren’t following orders, were you?”

“I was, sir. To see to that the operation is carried out safely. Nala se, while being the head of the operation, did not have the consent of the Jedi overseer to continue.”

The ARC chuckled. The guard wasn’t joking. Surely the bluff wouldn’t fly.

“They didn’t need the general’s permission. You know this. You attach your superiors. You committed mutiny! But you do remind me a lot of someone I used to know.” The ARC’s tone was jovial. Relived. 2894 didn’t get it.

“AZ, you should be more like this guy.” The clone calls to a droid waiting patiently in the hall. The ARC leaned off of the guard and stood, helping him up. He went on, inspecting the equipment. 2894 just stood, bewildered. What was the ARC doing? He should be arresting him! Or setting off an alarm! Or killing him!

“W- why are you ok with this? You should probably set off the alarm-“

“Don’t touch that!” The ARC calls as the guard reaches for the button. “You are terrible at mutiny! First time I take it? AZ I need a distraction. Set off an alarm in the far wing”

The droid complied while reassuring itself about saving the patient. An alarm blared letting them know it had worked.

“Great. Now I need you to do a brain scan. Level 5. There’s something there they aren’t looking for.”

“You can’t. He’ll die. You need to wait a few hours after the hyper tests”

The ARC groans in frustration. “We don’t have that long! We need the results now!”

“I thought the the objective of this exercise was to save his life, not end it!”

AZ looks between the two feuding clones before stepping in “actually, preforming the scan itself has a 76% survival rate. Most casualties occur once the scan if finished and any operations begin”

“76 is good odds. Preform the scan. I’m sure we’ll get something useful”

“Commencing level 5 atomic brain scan”

The guard doesn’t watch, attention much more focused on the door. This is much too open. He grabs a blaster off the ground and steps outside. closing the door behind him. He can trust that ARC to help that clone.

He stands guard, but more than that he takes a step outside. He’s got no idea what he’s doing, and it’s very wrong. But standing outside the door he can just go back to what he was before, even if it’s fake and just for a little bit. It’s enough.

#the clone wars #star wars #arc trooper fives #captain rex #fives #starwars #clone trooper tup #my writing #it includes my two favourite characters just as a spoiler #you know what that means #I would write a bunch of different fandoms if I had the confidence #but since most of you are clone people #I’m just staying with stars war for now #would you like some other fandoms?#I’m not as confident with other characters as clones but I do want to try some other stuff #ah whatever just rambling in the tags #part of this was written months ago. I had completely forgotten about it.#now it’s a little more complete

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curatedfaetes · 4 years ago

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Brand Identity || Solo

TIMING: Present LOCATION: Somewhere in the mountains. SUMMARY: Oz finds his target. WARNINGS: Torture.

Osric was never more disappointed than when one of their own kind sold them out.

The moon rose high above the forest clearing, a few days past full. The natural waterfall that fed this lovely little river gurgled in the background, a decent muffler for the night’s events. In the night’s calm light, Oz had noticed the microexpression flicker across his target’s face before it’d gone still. Shock, and vague disgust. Ah, well. Other fae tried their best to be shrewd, but spriggans were a touch more impulsive than his more elegant brethren. Remorse was so rare in their kind, stealing close to breathing for them, that Oz had learned not to bother expecting it.

He pressed the heel of his shoe down firmly on the spriggan’s windpipe, a warning should the spriggan attempt a struggle. Its own limited abilities were as good as null here at the edge of the water, where Oz was near-drunk on power. But it never hurt to remind someone of the precarious position they were in.

For Oz’s part, this transaction was as good as complete. Confirming the find was the real bitch of it all. Would he be able to get at his databases, out here in the middle of nowhere? Sighing, he pulled off one of his leather gloves, fishing his phone out of his pocket. No such luck. He thought back to his notes, humming a bit of a human pop song under his breath. Whistle while you work and all.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Right.” Oz pulled his glove back on and leaned down, replacing his foot with one coiled hand. His fingers twitched, eager to bring an end to the fae the best way he knew how. But he needed it for a few moments longer. The water was so, so close. The box enclosing the artifact had fallen into the shallows. Oz plucked it up, wrenching it open easily.

At first, when he’d been searching for it, he’d thought it strange, for a fae artifact to be so… so cold. But the amulet itself wasn’t very old at all. Likely, a human had seen the smooth stone, Oz’s true goal, and thought to enclose it in its current prison. Oz couldn’t help but think it looked tacky, beyond the offense the iron caused him, personally. Even by human standards, the amulet was simply ugly. No accounting for taste, he supposed.

“Alright, wake up,” Oz said, dragging the spriggan’s body into the shallows. “C’mon. I don’t have all night.” Sensing, perhaps, that the danger had grown, the spriggan tried to croak out a word, a muted struggle against the power of Oz’s hand. “Jeez, dude. I don’t have to kill you here, you know. Besides, if that was my intention, you’d be dead already.”

He hummed, dangling the amulet by its chain over the spriggan’s chest. “I could confirm that this is, in fact, what I’m looking for by testing it on myself, but that sounds pretty damn painful. I mean, ugh, iron, right? Not fun for either of us.” Oz pulled it up, almost like a yo-yo, clasping it hard in his fist. His anger threatened to simmer out, but this wasn’t cruelty. It was a lesson. Oz could resist. “But I’ll cut you a deal, I’ll even make it a promise,” he said.

The spriggan huffed at him, petulantly refusing to speak. “It holds more power if you agree, you know that, right? Otherwise, who knows what I might do.” Oz let the amulet drop again, close to the hollow of the spriggan’s neck. The spriggan tensed under Oz’s hand. “Calm down, my thieving friend. I wouldn’t endanger your ability to blend in like that.” A momentary relaxation, before the spriggan lifted a hand slowly to tap at Oz’s. The nix let his grip loosen, just enough.

“What… do you want?” it gasped out. “You have what you came for, right? Just… Just leave me. I won’t do nothin’ else, honest.”

Oz laughed, a cold sound in the relative quiet. “See, somehow, I doubt that. In fact, I’m no seer, but I have a feeling you and I will be right back here, sooner or later. And next time, I won’t be quite so generous.” Oz let that sink in. “What I want, beyond this trinket, is insurance. A reminder for you to be more careful with what you pick up. I can’t go against your nature, obviously. You’ll steal and steal again. But next time, you’ll make sure you’re only stealing from humans. Do you understand?”

“A promise, then?” Another fraction of relaxation. But no. Not enough.

“Wouldn’t mean much if it’s a simple promise, now would it? Then you can’t disobey. Least, not without a lot of pain. No, I like autonomy, myself. For our kind, at least. We’re no better than the humans if we bind each other up, are we?” Oz rolled his shoulder back, amulet back to his gloved palm. “I’ll give you a promise on my end. As long as we don’t meet here again, like this, I promise I won’t seek you out. You can go about your business. I’ll even forget your face. Does that sound alright with you? Say it out loud.”

The spriggan was fidgety now, freedom so close on its lips. “Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. I accept, let the deal be made, what the fuck ever. Can I go now?”

“Okay, good,” Oz said brightly, a smile wide on his lips. He wondered how he looked, from down there. If he looked at all like the predator he knew he could be. “But, damn, if I’ll forget your face once I let you go, I think I’ll need another way to know it’s you, right? Now, how might I do that?”

The amulet hung like a guillotine over the spriggan’s sternum. The spriggan started struggling, its mind turning over the admittedly limited possibilities. Huh. Smarter than Oz gave it credit for. It started talking: “This wasn’t part of th—”

“Shut up,” Oz said, cutting it off. He shoved the amulet down, between the gaps in the spriggan’s button down, scalding, cold iron to the ridges of the spriggan’s rib cage. A brand, its own promise on the spriggan’s skin.

The waterfall might not hide that scream as well as Oz’d thought.

So disappointing.

#wickedswriting #para #solo #Brand Identity

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isiso8 · 3 years ago

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MAKING AUSTRALIA HEALTHY AGAIN

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Your legal rights: no more lockdowns

Fearless speech and video - The pandemic of fear

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Freedom

IN EVERY CITY AND CITY OF AUSTRALIA

Be There or you and your children will live with the consequences

THE HIGH COURT OF AUSTRALIA APPROVED AND ARCHIVED (and REJECTED) OUR PREVIOUS CASE AGAINST THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT.

Discover the Magna Carta

Sols speech at the Great Australian Rebellion - Melbourne - May 10

PRINT YOUR DEMO SIGNS A2

Our hymn - Ballad of the Great Southern Land

I DO NOT AGREE TO LOCKDOWN APP, SELF-INSULATING, SOCIAL DISTANCE, TRACKING

I DO NOT AGREE THAT 5G IS INSTALLED IN GROUND WHILE WE ARE LOCK DOWN

I DO NOT AGREE TO BEING COMPULSORY AND COERCIVELY INJECTED UNTESTED POISON VACCINES AND MICROCHIP AND NANOBOTS

I DON'T VOTE CONFIDENCE IN THIS FASCIST TIRANIAN GOVERNMENT TRAITOR WHICH DESTROYS OUR LIVES, OUR

LIVELIHOOD IS OUR COUNTRY FOR A FALSE DEMIC OF PANIC BASED ON A FALSE DISEASE AND FALSE ASSOCIATE

TESTS

RESPONSIBILITY OF THE IDIOTIC AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT AND BE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR FAILURE TO MAINTAIN

AUSTRALIAN CONSTITUTION, YOUR BETRAYAL DECEPTION AND THE CRIMES YOU ARE COMMITING AGAINST EVERYONE

AUSTRALIANS

DAY OF FREEDOM

SATURDAY 5 SEPTEMBER

All cities and towns in Australia

Be There or you and your children will experience the consequences.

MakeAustraliaHealthyAgain.org

This Australian government no longer represents the Australian people.

This Australian government is now a company with international corporate clients.

This government agenda is funded and controlled by international corporate clients for the benefit of these clients and NOT for us, the Australian people.

This Australian government is blindly following mainland China's dictatorship and terrorizing the Australian people with a totally false panic based on corporate lies about the common cold that has been and will be with us forever. A strategic lure corporate artificial virus was released in Wuhan specifically to create fear and terror around the world.

The Australian government dictatorship has destroyed our economy, is robbing us of our human and legal rights, terrifies us with shocking and unfounded fear and panic, and is creating universal suffering for all Australians, destroying our businesses, assets, our lives and our families.

This is treason.

40,000 Australians have died since the beginning of February this year, 750 from the flu.

Have you heard of these Australians who died?

Nothing Nada Nix.

Has the Australian economy been shut down due to the deaths of these 40,000 Australians? Or even for the 750 deaths from the flu? NO.

What we are being shot 24/7 is a tiny minuscule of these unfortunate old age deaths that are still part of those 40,000, who have comorbid issues aside from old age, who are assigned by a RT- False positive PCR test designed for a totally unproven "flu-like" disease Covid19 that can't even pass Koch's postulates, the gold standard of infectious disease testing.

The President of Tanzania recently received tests for papayas, goats and birds again positive for Covid19 https://bit.ly/3beVera

It is estimated that 3000 Australians commit suicide directly as a result of this shocking campaign of terror and betrayal by the Australian government against us, the Australian people.

They tell us we are in a pandemic. Pandemics are defined by a huge number of people who become seriously ill and die. Where is this pandemic? It's like the emperor's new clothes. Nowhere.

The Australian Government's international pharmaceutical and corporate friends, whose sole focus is monetary profit, have taken over the World Health Organization, which has become Big Pharma's World Department for Marketing and Distribution of Unsafe and Untested Vaccines . Their main goal is to send poisonous, untested vaccines to the entire world population with huge profits.

And all this demic panic was designed to gain total control of the people of the world.

The vaccines have failed. The herd immunity of vaccines is a lie.

Vaccines are poisonous and have never been tested for safety. Australians are now sicker than we have ever been. Autism is skyrocketing. It is estimated that one in two Australian children will be autistic by 2025.

This could bring about the demise of the Australian nation.

4,000 innocent Australian babies and adults were killed directly by injecting vaccines.

1.5 million innocent Australian babies, children and adults, were directly mutilated by injecting vaccines.

There are literally thousands of scientific studies showing that unvaccinated children and adults are much healthier than vaccinated children and adults who have been systematically poisoned by vaccines.

Vaccines contain the most toxic foreign and man-made substances carried directly into our bloodstream, bypassing all of our natural immune defense systems.

Vaccines include both male and female contaminants and DNA from mice, pigs, dead cancerous human fetuses, cows, chickens, monkeys, dogs and worms. They contain live and dead viruses and bacteria that are injected directly into our bloodstream. Vaccines contain aluminum which is scientifically proven to directly cause autism. Vaccines contain many other poisons including formaldehyde, detergent, antifreeze, yeast, preservatives, and metals.

LET SOMETHING BE INJECTED INTO YOUR BODY THAT CAUSES:

Febrile respiratory disease, asthma, multiple sclerosis, chronic arthritis, arthralgia; myalgia, polyneuritis, encephalitis, encephalopathy, subacute sclerosing panencephalitis, Guillain-Barré syndrome, acute disseminated encephalomyelitis, transverse myelitis, febrile convulsions; aphebrile seizures or convulsions, ataxia, polyneuritis, polyneuropathy, ocular paralysis, paraesthesia diabetes, anaphylactic shock and anaphylactoid reactions angioneurotic edema, autoimmune diseases, austism, severe eye infections or loss of vision, severe rash, encephalitis (severe brain reaction), which can lead to permanent brain damage, Severe infection starting at the vaccination site, Death, Hypersensitivity, Panniculitis; atypical measles; temperature; syncope; headache; dizziness; malaise; irritability, Vasculitis, Pancreatitis; diarrhea; He retched; mumps, nausea, thrombocytopenia, purpura, regional lymphadenopathy, leukocytosis, aseptic meningitis.

This is a partial list of the side effects of the measles mumps and rubella MMR vaccine.

Soon you won't be able to go to work, college, school, get your driver's license, go to the supermarket or leave the house without being fully vaccinated. It is already happening in Victoria and Western Australia.

Furthermore, while we are in isolation, the Australian government is stepping up the rollout of 5G, a totally dangerous and dangerous technology that has NEVER been tested for safety.

These politicians are working for international corporate fascist clients and not for you, the Australian people. Their final game is an Australian fascist corporate dictatorship.

The Constitution of Australia clearly states that we, the Australian people, control the government. They are our public employees.

Yet, covertly, the Australian Constitution is devastatingly eroded by these Traitors. They presented themselves as modern barons and lords, illegally bending the laws, paying huge salaries with our taxes, living in luxury and treating us Australians as second-class citizens. They have taken control of your Parliament, the People's Parliament of Australia, which we of the People of Australia have built, paid for and owned.

We are not allowed in Parliament to express our opinion against their international fascist corporate decisions, ladies and gentlemen. The Australian people have banished us from our own Parliament, in a dusty field half a kilometer in front of our Government Building, where pathetically, like slaves, we cry our complaints from afar, to the wind never to be heard.

This is a shocking state of Evil and Corruption in our great Southern Land.

They disown us, the Australian people. They steal our land, our water, our minerals and sell them to their cronies in the international government, in order to line their pockets.

They are selling Australia from under our feet, ladies and gentlemen.

One of our greatest and bravest Australian citizens, our international hero of truth, Julian Assange is allowed to rot in prison in an overseas country, by these spineless Gollums who flock to and get paid by the United States, China and from other foreign countries, and the Antichrist Bill Gates and his cronies who plan to take over the whole world via their fake Panic Demic, based on a false disease, Covid19 and a fake RT-PCR test, all run by their Big Department. Pharma marketing and distribution of untested and poisonous vaccines which can now be called the World Organization of Hell.

Not anymore.

Australia is time for us to rebel

WE DO NOT ALLOW FALSE LOCKDOWN, SELF-INSULATING, SOCIAL DISTANCE, TRACKING APP

WE DO NOT ALLOW 5G TO BE GROUND INSTALLED WHILE WE ARE LOCK DOWN

WE DO NOT ALLOW YOU TO BE INJECTED WITH POISONOUS VACCINES NOT TESTED MANDATORY AND COERCITIVE AND MICROCHIP AND NANOBOT

WE VOTE NO TRUST IN THIS TRAITOR TIRANNIC FASCIST GOVERNMENT THAT DESTROYS OUR LIFE, OUR AID AND OUR COUNTRY FOR A FALSE PANIC DEMIC BASED ON A FALSE DISEASE AND FALSE ASSOCIATED TESTS

RESPONSIBILITY OF THE IDIOTIC AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT AND RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR FAILURE TO MAINTAIN THE AUSTRALIAN CONSTITUTION, YOUR DECEPTION, YOUR BETRAYAL AND YOUR CRIMES YOU ARE COMMITING AGAINST ALL AUSTRALIANS

IT IS THE BIGGEST AGAINST IN HISTORY. And our ridiculously STUPID Australian government is backing it up and controlled by its cronies like banking cartels, Big Pharma, Anti-Christ Gates, WHO which is wholly owned by vaccine cartels and Big Pharma and other NWO players. . Our Australian media is also owned by these same satanic organizations. It is as clear as the nose on our face.

And we Australians for our part are treated like totally brainless animals. All our human rights have been stripped from us, including the right to decide what is injected into our bodies and into the bodies of our children. We can't even move from our homes or visit our friends and families or enjoy parties or sports. Our businesses are being destroyed and taken away from us, as are our homes and other assets. We have been ruined and thrown into abject poverty by our OWN GOVERNMENT. We are fined $ 1,500 for talking to someone.

Where are all the millions of people who die from this fake Covid19?

THEY DO NOT EXIST. THEY MUST "STEAL" DEATH FROM OLD AGE AND DEATH FROM CO-SOFTNESS TO TRY TO STRENGTHEN THE FALSE NUMBER OF "COVID19" DEATHS. PLEASE WAKE UP. HOW CAN YOU ACCEPT THIS ABSOLUTE MADNESS?

WAKE UP and say NO NO NO. Join us on Saturday 30th May at 12pm across Australia. WAKE UP AUSTRALIA. YOU ARE CONNECTED. THEY STAY WHILE YOU. THEY GIVE YOU BRAIN WASH. And what's worse is that this fake Covid19 disease has been defined as "flu-like symptoms" and therefore this FALSE COVID19 will be with us FOREVER. WE WILL LOSE ALL OUR RIGHTS FOREVER.

IT'S THE BIGGEST CRAP LOAD EVER. IF IT WAS NOT SO SHOCK IT WOULD BE ALL JUST A TOTAL MASSAGE. IT IS THE GREATEST SATANIC EVIL SPREADED BY AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENTS AND IDIOTS AUSTRALIAN MEDIA ALL BY ORDER OF THE NWO, BIG PHARMA, THE ANTICHRIST DOORS AND VACCINE MANUFACTURERS THAT CONTROL WHO, 'THE WORLD HELL ORGANIZATION' acting Department of Distribution Vaccines ..

There is no "pandemic". There is no "Covid19". It's all a Big Pharma marketing spin. A source of disease must overcome Koch's postulates. SARS-CoV2 doesn't come close. The "Covid19" RT-PCR test is false. The figures on the death of "Covid19" are completely false, stolen from old age and deaths from comorbidities. There is no increase in death anywhere on the planet. Just a shocking hypnotic satanic shock. WAKE UP. ALL WAKE UP.

The latest NON-CONTROVERSE evidence of this shocking FRAUD is that global death statistics in the world have not increased and in fact have decreased, eg. in the United States during this fraudulent panic. Statistics on death from old age and other comorbid diseases have been blatantly used to bolster the fraudulent numbers of Covid19 deaths. THIS WHOLE DEMIC OF PANIC IS A TOTAL COUNTER FROM BEGINNING TO FINISH FOR GLOBAL FASCIST SATANIC CONTROL, MANIPULATION, FEAR, ECONOMIC DESTRUCTION, AND MANDATORY VACCINATION.

STAND UP AUSTRALIA AND SAY NO, NO, NO. AND ON MAY 1, THE MANDATORY FLU VACCINATION ARRIVED IN AUSTRALIA

These government idiots don't realize that aside from shocking death, poisoning, side effects and the ineffectiveness of the flu shot in particular, a vaccinated person spreads SEVEN TIMES more flu "viruses" than a person. not vaccinated. For some real facts about flu vaccines visit https://bit.ly/2zFElJb https://bit.ly/35aj1XI

LET SOMETHING BE INJECTED INTO YOUR BODY THAT CAUSES:

This is a partial list of MMR vaccine side effects.

LISTEN TO THE IDIOTIC AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT

THIS PANIC DEMIC IS ABSOLUTELY FALSE. There is another program, World Fascist Control. Compulsory vaccination. The test is false, the SARSCoV2 is a smokescreen, the death numbers are false. And even with their false death numbers, millions of people are NOT dying. There is no pandemic. WAKE UP AUSTRALIA

SEE YOU ON SATURDAY MAY 30 AT 12 PM. BE THERE OR PREPARE TO LOSE YOUR AND YOUR CHILDREN'S LEGAL AND HUMAN RIGHTS FOREVER.

Please spread the Word.

AUSTRALIAN BROADCASTING CORPORATION WHILE ON VACCINE SCIENCE

THE CONFERENCE IN CANBERRA IN SEPTEMBER AND THE DEMONSTRATION AT THE HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT WERE A GREAT SUCCESS

HERE ARE SOME LINKS

Video of the Canberra Rally

AVN article and media

Conference details

The World Health Organization lied to us

PLEASE DEMONSTRATE IN YOUR TOWN AND IF YOU CAN, COME SHOW OUTSIDE AUSTRALIAN FEDERAL PARLIAMENT IN CANBERRA WHEN WE DO IT AGAIN, FOR YOUR RIGHTS TO DECIDE WHAT YOU PUT IN YOUR BODY AND THE BODIES OF YOUR CHILDREN. PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD. WE MAKE A STRONG AND CLEAR STATEMENT FROM AUSTRALIAN MOMS, DADS AND CHILDREN

WE STARTED AN AVAAZ PETITION:

HOLD A SURVEY ON THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT'S VACCINE POLICY AND / OR A ROYAL COMMISSION

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PRESS RELEASE

AUSTRALIA TO HOLD THE GOVERNMENT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATH AND INJURY OF AUSTRALIAN CHILDREN, CHILDREN AND ADULTS FROM THE CURRENT VACCINATION PROGRAM.

Make Australia healthy again

makeaustraliahealthyagain.org

Vaccines have NEVER been tested for safety.

It is estimated, using the Australian Government's DAEN Vaccine Injury database (Database of Adverse Events Notifications), that 4,000 innocent Australian infants and adults, indigenous and otherwise, have been killed by vaccinating in Australia since 1989.

1,500,000 innocent Australian babies and adults, indigenous and otherwise, have been maimed and paralyzed by vaccine administration in Australia since 1989.

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dothwrites · 5 years ago

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15.06 coda--ocean of silence

There is an ocean of silence between us. And I am drowning in it.--Ranata Suzuki

---

“And check your damn messages.”

The words stick in Dean’s throat, vicious and painful. They manage to worm their way through, but there’s so many other words that want to claw their way out--What the fuck are you doing in fucking Idaho, why the fuck didn’t you listen to your messages, come back, God’s back and we need you, come back, God’s been writing our story all this time and I have no idea which way is up and which way is right, come back, we need you, I need you, I need you--

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say any of it. Instead, he says “Check your damn messages,” and punches the end call button before he can say any of the words begging to escape.

---

Castiel waits until he’s sitting in his cabin before he checks his phone.

For weeks now he’s been watching the messages pile on top of each other, not bothering to check them. He didn’t want to feel that pang in his chest when he realized that none of them were from Dean.

He feels it now, scrolling through the messages--Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam...Something, foreign and hot, clogs in his throat. If Dean had cared, just enough to send one single message, just some hint that he cared, even a little...

He listens to Sam’s voicemail from one week ago. He can hear the barely restrained emotion in Sam’s voice, present in the tiny wobbles and the small hitches of his breath. Sam says that Chuck, that God is back. That he never really left. That Lilith is back. That everything--Jack, Rowena--was all for nothing.

That he lost everything. For nothing.

Again.

If I stay, nothing changes, he’d said, but if he goes back, then nothing changes. From whichever way he looks at it--nothing changes. In the end, God will still be there, Jack will still be gone, and Dean...Well. Nothing will change.

Just hearing Dean’s voice on the other end of the line, hearing the particular way that Dean’s voice shaped his name--Cas. Until Dean Winchester, he had always been Castiel. There had never been any other option. Then he met Dean, talked to Dean, and immediately, Dean began chipping away at him, starting with his name. It wasn’t until years later that Castiel looked at the shape of himself and didn’t recognize what he saw. It wasn’t until years later that he realized that Dean Winchester had molded him, with the care and precision of a master sculptor, into whatever Dean had wanted to see. And Castiel, whoever that angel had been, was lost forever.

---

He drives back to the bunker. In the end, he doesn’t know what else to do. Get back in the game, he’d said, arrogant in the moment, still riding high on the release of his rage. He forgot that he’d closed that door behind him and thrown away the key. Not literally--the key to the bunker still sits in the pocket of his coat but.

When he drove away, he’d honestly never expected to see the bunker again. And now...the gravel road is still the same, winding down to the forgotten entrance. Out here, there’s no light pollution, and Castiel’s headlights cut through the darkness to land on the figure of a woman.

Something hot and unpleasant clenches in Castiel’s chest. Ridiculous, given their circumstances, but...The woman turns around, suspicion narrowing her eyes as her hand goes to her waist. Castiel catches a glimpse of a gun tucked into her waistband. Not a civilian then.

He gets out of the truck, but leaves the headlights on her so that she has to squint to see him. It gives him the advantage, however brief. He just hopes that she’ll think before shooting him. His grace...well. He might not recover so easily from a gunshot as he once did.

“Hello?” The woman doesn’t answer his call. A vague rush of foreboding prickles through Castiel’s body. His blade rests in his coat sleeve, heavy with intent. “Hello?” he calls again, louder.

“Hello?” answers him. There’s a thickness to the voice, a slurring of the syllables that means--

Castiel shifts so that the light illuminates his body instead of silhouetting him. “Hello?” he asks again, making sure to face the woman directly so that she can see the movement of his lips.

“Who are you?” she asks, never moving her hand away from the gun.

“Castiel,” he answers.

The tension in her posture relaxes and her hand falls away from the gun. “Oh.” Her eyes fall on him again, with a different kind of consideration. “You’re Castiel.” Her mouth twists as she takes him in--the holes in his shirt where the bullets tore through, the blood spattered on his shirt and neck. He can feel it on his face, pulling unpleasantly at his skin whenever he moves. He’d done his best to try and clean himself before he left, but it had been a quick job. As for his clothes--he didn’t have the infinistirmal amount of grace that it would take to clean his suit. He’s been carefully ignoring that fact, and he continues to do so with a neat little mental sidestep.

“You’re an angel?” the woman asks. Skeptisicm is in her tone, and Castiel doesn’t blame her. He’s a skeptic as well.

“A poor excuse for one,” he answers. He doesn’t realize, until he sees the quick flash of pity in the woman’s eyes, how pathetic that sounds. “And you are?” he asks, swiftly changing the subject. “I thought I knew all the other hunters but I don’t--”

“Eileen.” She extends her hand and Castiel takes it. Her shake is firm and strong, her skin warm. “Eileen Leahy.”

The name sparks the faintest recollection of a memory and though Castiel doesn’t pull away, his hand jerks in her grasp. Eileen’s eyes sparkle at him, mirth dancing in their depths at his reaction. “You were dead,” Castiel says, because he remembers now. Eileen, who was killed by the British Men of Letters. Eileen, who Sam always spoke of with fondness and regret. Eileen, who stands in front of him now, whole and vibrant and alive, while so many others are dead and scattered into dust.

“Weren’t you?” she asks.

Despite everything, a smile breaks across Castiel’s face. “I suppose so,” he answers. “It seems to be a recurring theme for...” He stops himself before the words tumble out of his mouth. A recurring theme for residents of this place.

He can’t say that. He’s not a resident here anymore, if he ever was. “For hunters,” he finishes lamely. Eileen’s expression tells him that he’s not really fooling her, but she doesn’t press. Once again, Castiel is grateful for the strange generosity of humans, the way that even though they can be harsh and cruel, petty and thoughtless, they’re also so gentle and careful with veritable strangers.

“So why are you out here? I thought that this was normally the time that humans spent sleeping.”

Eileen shrugs, glancing up at the stars. “Being dead for a few years--Sleep is kind of overrated at this point?” Her fingers flex in the fabric of her jacket as she turns in a slow circle. “Plus, i just like it out here. In there, it’s...”

“It can be stifling,” Castiel answers. The underground nature of the bunker, the way that two human men can take up so much space. The way that a single human can force his presence on an angel until they crumple underneath the weight of it.

Eileen nods. A faint smile crosses her face as she looks around the bleak landscape surrounding the bunker. “You miss this,” she says, more to herself than Castiel. “The breeze, the smell. The feel of it.” She looks at him, a little shyly. “Do you want to go in?” she asks, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the door.

“No,” Castiel answers, settling down on the steps.

“I’m fine staying out here for a while.”

---

After an hour passes, Sam comes outside to find them.

He’s obviously not expecting any company, dressed only in a thin shirt and pajama pants. He didn’t even bother to put shoes on before he came outside, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. His hair is tousled and sticking up in the back. Castiel wonders what’s between him and Eileen, that he would leave his bed and sleep to search for her.

“Hey, I woke up and saw that you--” Sam pauses, his eyes lighting on Castiel’s form. He blinks away the slumber as his posture straightens and awareness filters back into his expression. “Cas.” His tone is carefully neutral. “I didn’t know that you were here.”

“I just got here a few hours ago.” Eileen’s eyes flick back and forth between Sam’s face and his. Even though she can’t hear the obvious tension in their words, she can pick it up through the blatant discomfort in their body language.

“I’m going to go back inside,” she says, and before either of them can say goodbye, Eileen bolts back inside. Castiel is left with Sam who has a strange mixture of longing, worry, and irritation on his face.

“Did you get my messages?” he finally asks, leaning against the wall. Castiel wonders if he should stand, but nixes the idea. Even the thought takes too much effort.

“I listened to them earlier.”

“And why...” Sam is losing the fight against his irritation. He blows out a short breath and folds his arms against his chest. He seems incapable of looking at Castiel for longer than a stretch of thirty seconds. “Why didn’t you answer? Where were you?”

Irritation bristles its ugly head. Castiel grits his jaw to keep all of his roiling, seething anger inside. Sam Winchester doesn’t get to question him like this, doesn’t get to make demands of him; it’s not like he’s...

“I needed to be away. From here.” Castiel bites out the words.

Sam finally looks at him, bleak frustration in his eyes. “Because of Jack? Cas, we all miss him. But it’s complicated and...”

Castiel’s anger and grief explode outward, a volcano finally reaching its critical state. He stands up, coat swirling around him as he stalks to Sam. He forgets his lingering weakness, the jelly state of his graceless body as he stands within an inch of Sam.

“Complicated? You miss him? You and your brother were the ones who tried to lock him away from the world for all eternity, and when that didn’t work, you were the ones who put a gun to his head. And now you have the...” Castiel’s mouth works for a second as he tries to find the correct word, “the arrogance, to come to me and tell me that you miss him? That you’re sad that Chuck finished the job instead of you?”

“Cas, that’s not fair,” Sam tries, but Castiel can tell by the fraying sound of his voice that he’s on the end of his tether as well. “You don’t understand--Jack killed Mom and--”

“No, I understand very well the Winchester definition of family,” Castiel spits out, then stops, chest heaving. He feels raw on the inside, like something came through and scraped its claws through every part of him.

He never should have come back. He sees that now.

If Castiel had actually reached out and slapped him, Sam could not look more confused or hurt. His mouth hangs open and his eyes reflect a sort of helpless pain that Castiel can identify with all too well. He knows what it feels like to have the people you took for granted in your life suddenly shift and change until you no longer know how to navigate through the new sharp edges. He knows what it feels like to get cut to ribbons on someone.

“What...what the hell happened?” Sam finally asks, rubbing his jaw. “Cas, what...why did you leave?”

And there it is. The question that he should have been asking all along, now delivered, too late to help anyone.

Castiel doesn’t want to punish Sam. That’s never what this was about, but he can’t, he can’t...He can’t sit here and pour out the ugly remains of his life, his hopes, he can’t sit there and be a willing participant in his own humiliation.

“Ask your brother,” Castiel says instead, petty and cruel. He heads towards the door of the bunker, hating the claustrophobic nature of the place but needing to escape this conversation. His hand on the doorknob, he pauses to look back at Sam. “I’m here to help with God because it’s my fight too. I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch because I have a responsibility. But after...However this ends, I’m leaving after.”

He goes into the bowels of the bunker, leaving Sam alone outside.

---

Dean is caught in the middle of a dream.

Ever since they got the news that Chuck was back, he’s been dreaming more than usual. Normally his dreams are just strange, fever-pitch things. They’re enough to leave him gasping in a cold sweat, but not enough to linger over his day. These dreams though...these dreams wrap around him like a cold, forbidding blanket, and shadow every action that he makes until finally, he falls back asleep, only to dream again.

Tonight, it’s more of the same. He’s racing through a forest that happens to look a hell of a lot like Purgatory. He’s hunting something. He doesn’t know what it is, but he knows that he wants to find it and destroy. He wants to dig his fingernails into this thing and shred it apart, until nothing’s left but the blood and gore on his hands. His blood thrills with the chase and all that he hears is just the sound of his feet racing through the undergrowth and the ragged sounds of his breath ripping through the air.

Ahead of him, a rustle. Dean pours on the speed, his gun a promising weight in his hand. The tension of his finger as he squeezes the trigger, the recoil traveling up his arm, the satisfaction of hearing the bullet hit and watching the blood spray--Dean races ahead, hunting the creature that no longer bothers to be subtle. Now it’s running, straight in front of him, in a futile attempt to escape.

There is no escape. Not here, not from him.

Dean launches himself into the air, arms reaching out to grab the fabric of the thing’s coat. He brings it to the ground and they roll, scratching and clawing at each other, but there was only one way that this story was ever going to end. Dean springs to his feet, his quarry still on the ground, and if he were able, he’d throw his head back and howl his triumph to the night sky.

He shoves his toe under the body and rolls them over. There is nothing but triumph as he looks into Castiel’s eyes.

“Dean,” he tries, hands held up in surrender, “Dean, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to--”

Dean holds the gun up. He looks down at it, heavy in his hands. The Equalizer. Cas’ eyes flick to the gun, but then he keeps them on Dean’s face, open and earnest. Pleading.

“Dean, this isn’t...This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, this isn’t you--”

Cas’ voice tapers off to nothing as Dean places the gun against the skin of his forehead. His heart is pounding hard in his chest--excitement, horror--Whatever it is, Dean’s drunk on it, on the power to be found in the simple act of stroking his finger over the trigger.

“Dean. Please.” Cas never takes his eyes off Dean’s face, and that trust, that faith, after everything that--

Dean squeezes the trigger, watches the blood and gore explode from Cas’ head, watches those bright blue eyes film over, watches the body slump--

---

He wakes, gasping, terrified, sick. He retches but nothing comes up, only the sick taste of his own horror. Just a dream, but the words sound empty both in his head and in the quiet air of his bedroom. Just a dream. It was just a dream.

He didn’t kill Cas. He would never.

But the dream was so real, with Cas kneeling, pleading...And the smooth feel of the gun jumping in his hands, the way that it was so easy to squeeze, the satisfaction of watching Cas’ body jerk, watching the quick spray of blood--

“Fucking christ,” Dean mutters. With quick, convulsive movements, he jerks his robe on and ties a sloppy knot. Obviously he’s not going to get any more sleep so he might as well...Do something. That has his feet and hands moving.

Sam would suggest that he should exercise, but Sam is an asshole who eats granola and gets to have the person he loves in the same zipcode with him, so what the fuck does he know?

Dean walks out of his room and closes the door quietly, just in case Eileen or Sam are sleeping lightly. He starts down the hallway, lost in the memories and the might-have beens, and he doesn’t see the other person in the hallway until he bounces off of them.

He staggers back, an apology already on his lips, when he looks and--

“Cas?” he croaks, his heart thundering in his chest.

He blinks to clear the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and then he looks-- “Why are you--” There’s blood, too much of it, it’s on Cas’ shirt and his coat, and his face, and there’s, oh god are those bullet holes in his shirt, and that’s too much blood, bullets in Cas and it’s too much blood--

“Dean, it’s fine. It’s not mine. I’m fine.”

Dean realizes that he’d been speaking aloud, his hands clutching at the lapels of Cas’ coat in some desperate attempt to assure himself that this isn’t his dream, that Cas is still...That he’s...

“It’s not my blood. I’m fine. Look.” Cas takes his hand, in those sure, capable fingers, the ones that have put Dean back together more times than he can count, and guides it to his chest. Dean’s fingers catch on the ragged edge of Cas’ shirt, where the bullets went in before finding smooth, unblemished skin. Whole. Intact.

Cas’ skin is warm to the touch and Dean drinks in the sensation before the full weight of reality hits and he realizes--This isn’t for him anymore. Touching Cas, getting to check him for injury--That isn’t for either of them. They both made sure of that.

“You’re back,” Dean says, unnecessarily, but needing the moment to gather his defenses around him. He clutches his robe tight to his body like that’ll make a damn bit of difference, but it’s just one more layer between him and the rest of the world.

Cas takes a step back. It’s hardly anything, but it feels like everything, in the deliberate distance that he puts between them. “Yes,” he says, his voice stiff in a way that it hasn’t been in years. “Considering the circumstances...I didn’t think that there was another option.”

Dean jerks his head once, bitterly. “Right. The circumstances.” Because why else would Cas come back? Cas leaves because he wants to, because it’s time for him to move on, and comes back because of the circumstances. Because at the heart of it, Cas is still the duty-bound angel. “Well. We’ll try not keep you too long.”

What have you been doing to get yourself shot, are you ok, where have you been, why couldn’t you have at least texted Sam to let him know that you were fine, why couldn’t you text me and let me know you were fine, why couldn’t you stay, why couldn’t you understand that I still wanted you around, why couldn’t you just wait, just for a little bit until I was fine again--

“I know that you’ve got stuff to get back to,” Dean says instead, like he’s possessed, like someone else is in his chest, saying these things that will make Cas flinch.

He does. Cas still flinches, which means that Cas still cares, no matter how much he tries to pretend that he doesn’t. And if Cas still cares, that means that...Dean doesn’t know what that means.

“I’ll try not to overstay my welcome.” Why did he ever teach Cas the nuances of sarcasm, the way that the English language can be manipulated to wound?

Cas turns away from him, like he did that one night, like he does in some of Dean’s nightmares, the ones where he’s begging Cas to stay and Cas looks at him, coolly pitying, and says, I think it’s time for me to move on, and then he leaves, like all of this was never more than a pit stop for him along the way to bigger and better things.

Something in Dean’s chest breaks. It shatters into a thousand pieces and then he’s lurching forward, hands reaching for Cas. He manages to grab a piece of his coat, but the tug of fabric is enough to stop Cas. “What Dean?” Dean didn’t know that angels could sound exhausted, but Cas does, Cas sounds like he has the weight of centuries and the weight of Dean pushing him down to the ground.

“I...I don’t know,” Dean says, and there’s something liberating about the acknowledgement that he’s been floundering for these past three weeks. “I don’t...I don’t like when you’re gone,” he says. There’s more, but it’s all too raw, too painful, too true to say. If he says that, if he apologizes and confesses, and all the rest of it, then Cas will know, and then...Then, when Cas leaves after that, Dean will know that it was always him, that Cas was always leaving him, and Dean doesn’t think that he’ll survive that.

Cas says nothing; he doesn’t even bother to turn around. Dean inches closer and Cas could leave if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. Infinitesimally, Dean moves forward until his forehead is resting on Cas’ shoulder. Cas stiffens underneath him, but he doesn’t move to shake Dean off. Dean stays there and breathes in the scent of Cas’ coat, which smells like something damp and wild, and then the scent of Cas, which smells like something fierce and unforgiving.

The moment is fragile, so achingly vulnerable, that it’s no surprise when Dean ruins it. “It’s good that you’re back,” he says, and he means it in the way that he can’t sleep well when he doesn’t know where Cas is, in the way that he thought that he was never going to see Cas again, in the way that his heart lifted to hear Cas’ voice, even in those bitten off, reluctant syllables, in the way that this feels like a second chance, and then he says, “We really need you”, and everything shatters.

Cas pulls away and leaves Dean cold and bereft. Now, when he turns around, his face is that angelic mask that Dean hates so much, the one that Cas hides behind when he’s feeling too much, when he becomes too human for comfort.

“That always seems to be the case,” Cas bites out, short and bitter, and how did this go so bad so quick? Where were the warnings? “I’m here to help, because this is my fight too Dean. I was here when it started and i don’t get to sit on the sidelines and watch. But after...” Castiel shakes his head. “If I stay, nothing changes.”

He walks away, leaving Dean standing in the middle of the hallway. For the second time, Dean watches him go and doesn’t say anything. For the second time, Cas never pauses or invites Dean to change his mind.

Dean stands in the hallway until Castiel disappears, until he confirms that Cas isn’t coming back. Then he slinks back to his room, despair and defeat dogging his steps like two faithful hounds. He closes the door and wishes that the noise of the latch clicking didn’t sound so final.

He curls up on the bed and starts scrolling through his phone. He needs a hunt, something that will consume his mind, something that will take him away from the bunker, away from Cas, away from the ruins of his failure.

“Huh,” he says, as he lands on something that looks promising.

---

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.--Anais Nin

#spn spoilers #supernatural #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #castiel #dean winchester #spn15 #15.06 coda #15x06 coda #fare thee well spn #welcome to the end #dothwrites

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akkeyagentofhelheim · 4 years ago

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Before I Fall, Fall

It was quiet in the Library.

A clock ticked rhythmically in the lazy light of the morning. The constant whir of cog and wheel filled the air, punctuated by a hum and bend, phasing between Aidorinian styled bannisters, past crane carvings on the side of a bookshelf, and above a sandy blonde head hunched in front of a small shrine, tucked away in the corner. A single incense stick smoked from where it stood in its base as Juro sat in silence, his eyes closed and hands held together in prayer, glowing softly between blue and gold as he paid his respects to the Bookkeepers that disappeared several hours ago.

Virion gave a single croon as it landed on his good shoulder in worry. He opened his eyes to give the golem a scratch on the head, “I’m fine…” he assured it softly, carefully getting to his feet. He was still sore all over, accompanied by lethargy in his limbs from the massive output of magic he made. He carefully thumbed the torn fabric of his kimono on his shoulder, lamenting the loss of the garments, the blood already dried a while ago. He had yet to change.

"I was careless. I forgot she saw everything," he murmured as Akkey's interrogation replayed in his head. "You're attached to Yun Milae." He placed a slender gloved hand on the edge of a table, leaning his full weight against it, the other covering part of his face as he struggled, "I know that. That's the problem…"

One thought led to another as he spiraled through his memories, ones he wished to forget but couldn’t. Virion could only watch and extend its magic around its master in protection.

“You are nothing but a tool. A vessel for infinite power, destined to be alone. You can’t leave this place. There’s nothing, nobody out there for you. Don’t let her stories get into your head.” There was a scream of pain as a whip was brought down onto his handler. He saw nothing but white.

“Well… this was Jurou’s idea, but I can’t fault him for it, I understand where he’s coming from. We’re your family now. Our law is no help, no harm, and record what you see...” The Elder’s lopsided grin shone down on him. He smiled back in the same way, “But between you and me, I break that rule a bit. I like helping people even just a little, makes me feel more myself, more human. But don’t tell the others.” They laughed together.

He fought with his Mentor, “She’s bad news, I can feel it! Why won’t you listen? She’s nothing like you!” He didn’t see him for years after as the Mentor stubbornly searched for where the suspicious girl came from.

“This is all my fault,” His Mentor was crying, “I’m the one who dug around and set off their radar. You need to run, Jin. I won’t have you pay for what I did!” The Elder laid in his lap, dead. He had lost control again. Everyone was gone, it was just him and his Mentor left, cowering away from the Weapon as she pressed on with her duty to bring him back to Chuugo.

A flash of light on blade. A protecting arm flung over him. The sickening sound of sword through body, streaking blood over his face. The tip of the weapon nicking him along the jaw in the process. The Mentor heaving against the pain to keep her away from him, the blade slicing him again as bodies collided. Blood trailing in two lines down his neck as he was pushed towards nix portals, whose captured users were also escaping themselves.

“Don’t forget who you are, Little Crane.”

He ran.

A bell-like sound pinged from the flat device with the multiple buttons that he used frequently to read entries from the Modern timelines, interrupting his light speed thoughts, bringing him back to the present, “It’s like Jii-jii and Jurou-san decided to reincarnate in one goat body…” Juro couldn’t help but laugh. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Juro shook his head, stretching his long arms up and growling softly at the back of his throat as he returned his focus to the rest of his intended tasks, "Right. Catch up on entries…" He pulled scrolls and devices towards him, supporting his weight against the table, and got to work.

The minutes passed, slowly turning into hours, daylight sliding across books and dust and inkwells as it filtered through the windows of the Library, only the workings of machinery and the scratch of pen heard for a long time. It was a picture of peace, just like the old days.

Juro reached for another black, flat box, fingers flying over the buttons all over its surface. The face of the box lit up brightly, its blue-white glow shining softly on his cheekbones. Text appeared from the light, and his amber eyes swept across quickly as he read them.

"Nothing out of place for Dario. Out for the weekend with friends as always. He has a show next week."

Juro's lashes lowered. Jin's entry was right on time. They've been very regular as of late, particularly revolving around a certain seidkonur's partner, worrying and keeping an eye on him. The Worst Bookkeeper truly… he grinned to himself in reproach at the Modern Bookkeeper’s unabashed display of his affinity towards Yun and his life, but it wasn't a serious issue any longer, and more in amused surrender. After all, their neutrality was a choice--it was his that wasn’t. And it was exactly how he was reprimanded in his early Bookkeeper days as well.

His brow furrowed at the intrusive memory, gritting his teeth as he balled it up and threw it in the darkest corners of his mind as he always did. His fingers clicked away again on the buttons, and the light shifted into a different set of words.

Binate World. A fairly new thread that appeared only a month ago. It wouldn’t have garnered such attention from Juro if it weren’t for two things: the timing, and the nature of the timeline. And he might have an idea of why.

He didn’t have as deep an understanding of other universes as either Yun or Milae, but he could still tell what generally happened. Two threads twisted into one, spawning two bookkeepers housing the same soul. Juro skimmed the entries from the timeline, a small laugh escaping him. The bookkeepers were young, and the way they wrote reflected it, wonder and awe seeping into their words as they learned how to string their sentences together in neutrality. They were growing fast, their world a mix of magic and mundane. They were already 8.

But there was still the question of when it happened that metaphorically raised a brow more. First, the Battle of the Jaw kicked off way earlier than it was supposed to, bringing a seidkonur all the way to the opposite side of the multiverse. Then, within days, the unnatural thread was created, seemingly out of nowhere. There's outside forces affecting these, I'm certain… His eyes lowered even further as he stared blankly at the entries, thoughts turning in his head. Immense power surges. Twisting threads. Disappearing marionettes and souls of the Court. Weaving of time and stories.

Golden eyes and a creeping darkness.

"I can't think of anyone else but her. It must be Frigga…" Juro’s lips barely moved when he commented, his eyes going out of focus.

The sounds of the Library became muted, like a veil was hung in the dimension where it existed within the Golden thread. Light and shadows began to melt together through his vision, becoming more hazy and indecipherable. The pen in his hand was still. Stringy shadows streaked across his line of vision. The Library disappeared.

Juro found himself in a bottomless abyss peppered with stars, standing on nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing. Across from him was a large, arch shaped shadow that hung from an unseen ceiling. He could barely make out the chains that wrapped around it, then shot outwards in millions of directions in a horrible scrape of metal sounds.

A small lonely figure stood in between him and the shadow, faced away from him, yet he knew who she was, with her light locks and bare feet.

“You’re a fucking mess, aren’t ya…”

Her voice bounced around in echoes, filling up the entire space, doubling, cycling, amplifying. Chains began straining against the dome, moving and pulling across space. She spoke again.

“All this power you sealed, uncontrolled, creating problems that you can just solve on your own if you would just accept it and learn… but you don’t want that, do ya?”

Several of the chains began to glow blue then gold, and his mouth opened in a voiceless scream at the sight, crying desperately for the light to stop, to keep the lines intact.

“You’re ashamed of who you were, and you want to erase yourself by locking it all up. You detach from anything that could cause you pain, and disguise it under neutrality. You’re addicted to this solitude. You want it. You need it.”

The child turned to face him finally, but her face was void of any features, a creepy mask of smooth skin and porcelain. Her movements were choppy, unarticulated, inhuman. Her cadence was different.

“You’re trapped, yet you have the key.”

It burst into a chaotic twist of dark lines and threads from behind her, tensing and pulling to its most extreme without snapping. The space around Juro flickered violently, the space phasing in and out of reach in two, three, four, five waves, threatening to rip at the seams, streaking past the girl and heading straight for him, wrapping itself around his limbs and torso and body and face in that familiar, terrifying way. His right side pulsed.

“So many new lines to trace, new stories to collect... and their words…. words are so important,” a different voice whispered in his ear, and his body seized, the sound crawling everywhere on his skin, the dialogue sounding familiar but incorrect, like they were spoken by the wrong lips. Light left his eyes as he stared blankly before him, unseeing. Another chain glowed with his colours.

“...fā vald ađ rifa örlagaröđina,” he replied to seemingly nobody, his voice a hollow sound.

”That’s right, darling,” the voice remained soft, “You know the importance of words and stories. Then maybe…”

It was inside his head now, “...maybe you can rewrite yours.”

The echoes of metal links and soft voices came to an abrupt stop.

Complete silence.

Darkness faded back into the Library as cog, wheel, and hum returned. The second hand of a clock ticked once more. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows again. Everything was still in place.

Juro was staring wordlessly before him, unaware, like there was no alarming bend of space that glimmered around him. With an accompanying sigh, his eyes slowly, finally came to a full close, lashes slipping over amber in one smooth motion. He fell sideways, his knees buckling and collapsing towards the ground until he hit something soft and feathery. His golem caught him in its wings with a worried caw, as his arm dropped to the side, pen rolling out of his fingers onto the wooden floor as he laid within his golem, unmoving.

Virion crooned again in concern, but relaxed when it realized that his breath was steady, “Sorry Vir… I’m… suddenly… really tired…” Juro could only mumble under his breath, sinking into the sea of blue and white.

He had fallen fast asleep.

It was quiet once more in the Library.

#before i fall fall #one shot #juro #eir #frigga

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veridium · 6 years ago

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happy pills

The storm is on the horizon for your favorite modern thedas college girls. It’s my honor to push my piece a step further on the board. This episode brought to you by Norah Jones’s “Happy Pills,” otherwise known as my favorite song to sing wine drunk in the shower!

Enjoy some sad, tepid burn and friends knocking sense into each other! uwu!

start from the beginning // previous episode

6:50am, Friday morning:

--dude, send me your coffee order in ten minutes or perish.

Ellinor: surprise me

--you hate when I do that

Ellinor: you always say that! you know me

--ok fine, it’s my funeral after it’s yours. I’m at the studio. Hopefully you’ve snuck back through the window from your nocturnal love nesting.

Friday morning workout at the dance studio does not rival Josephine’s pep talk as far as therapeutic outlets go, but it’s a close placebo. She’s been going once a day at least since Wednesday evening, and switched to early mornings in order to evade any possible ‘run-in.’ Now she is an even more mean, lean, dancing machine than she usually is, dressed in her black leotard, tights, and running shorts. The last thing on her to-do list while in town is to stop into the coffee shop downtown to pick up coffee for her and Ellinor -- she called dibs on the honors, edging out Cullen for once that week.

She parks her car on the curb at 7:45am and tosses her hair up in a clip. Hopping out of her mini and over the crosswalk, she walks in with ease though the memories flood. Down the way she sees the table where her and Cassandra had their disaster coffee meet-up, and butterflies yet linger in her stomach as she waits in line to place her order.

Just as it’s her turn, people come down the shop stairs from the second-floor lounge area. A set of flats with ballerina laces, the other calf-high, military style boots. The worst combination of people there could ever be. Cassandra, and the red-headed friend of Josephine’s. Lily? Leliana. Leliana.

What are they doing here? It’s the crack of fucking dawn!

They’re walking close, and it’s not due to the lack of space. Shoulder-to-shoulder, like...like how they used to. Olivia can’t bare to look at their faces and have it be made worse. She closes her eyes and turns away. Dread and its accompanying sensations flood her from nose to toe. She braces for a collision, a cringey ‘oh how do you know so-and-so?’ and sly grin for absolutely no reason. Cassandra’s awkward inability to hide her feelings of uncomfortable distaste.

But, across the floor, the secondary door entrance rings its bell, and she turns to see they are gone. Left without so much as a horrible side-eye. Well, fine, if that is how it is...

Is she that unrecognizable post-workout? God, she must be. She pulls out her phone and flips the selfie camera on. It isn’t the worst she’s ever looked -- sophomore year, second semester finals definitely takes the cake in that category. But she does look...human. Mortal. Normal, sans emo pride flag hoisted in her wake.

Her gawking is interrupted by a text from Ellinor:

Ellinor: Hey, still bringing my coffee? I have some things to do and class later…

--Yeah, I’m ordering now. Be at the dorm in 15.

Oh, so she is alive. Funny. She pays for her to-go order, a white non-fat mocha and an Oregon chai. She’s expanding Ellinor’s palate, slowly but surely, starting with the chai family. Today is a risky day to try, though -- Ellinor has been a happy nervous mess, and last night’s antics have them both on edge: another instance where she’d said she would come home in a few hours, tops, only to stay over until morning. Something’s got to give.

Heading to her car, she makes a couple more texts, but to Theia instead:

--dude, hey, do you know Leliana?

She’s buckled up by the time Theia responds. The early mechanic bird always gets first dibs at tinkering with the shop stuff, as she would say.

Theia: Leliana? Who fucking doesn’t.

--That makes me feel better. She queer?

Theia: Yeah, she’s one of us. Cool once she likes you. I swear she ran a government background check on me when I started hanging out with Josie.

--well, great, she’s hanging out with...she who shall not be named

Theia: Well, hope she says goodbye, because I’m still killing her lol

--Ha, very funny. I gotta drive, I’ll text you later. See you this weekend at the gala?

Theia: Yep!

Well, shit. What’s there to like about the situation besides their choice in shoes? Nothing. But she’s got a coffee order to deliver to her best friend, and that takes precedent. She puts the car into gear and takes off.

Once on campus she marches straight up to their rooms, where Ellinor is waiting with a boot tapping the ground and phone in both her hands.

“There you are! Fuck,” Ellinor sighs, rubbing one of her eyes. “Tell me it’s at least a double-shot.”

“Triple,” Olivia grins, handing it to her. They both sip, and Ellinor makes a face.

“Is this a boujee chai? You got me a boujee chai again.”

“I got you a nice chai. You’re welcome, Olivia, for being my coffee fairy…”

Ellinor pinches the bridge of her nose, like a reset button, and refocuses on her phone screen. Is she still grumpy from Olivia’s read last night? Maybe, it was a bit...brutal. That’s what happens when you catch her trying to sleep, noise machine on ocean sounds and late night oreos digesting.

“Thank you,” Ellinor finally spits out, pulling her headphones from her denim jacket pocket. “I’m sorry, I’m just...worried.”

“Why? What’s up? Fuck, my class starts soon, let me throw some clothes on and get my bag.”

A black spaghetti strap, black jeans, and a grey long cardigan will have to do. She runs some product through her wet hair and ties it back up, and out in no more than 3 minutes. They get down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. Private enough for multitasking gossip and academia.

“So, what’s with the stick up your ass?” Olivia asks, slipping her aviators on.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not even!”

“You got ten minutes before the door closes and you gotta find another plucky blonde to be your confessor, dude. Speak now or forever hold your peace!”

“Urgh!” Ellinor chokes back an erroneous groan, pressing her to-go cup to her lips. “I need to be beamed up, Scotty. This is getting too much.”

“Too much? Dude, what?”

Ellinor takes another long chug, and their walking gets faster. Oh no, she’s not getting out of this one.

“His sister is arriving today.”

“I thought you were excited to meet her.”

“I am! It’s just...It’s…” they round a corner, a back path to the area of campus where their buildings are located. “You know in movies and shit when people get introduced to other people and the mutual friend goes “ah, shit, this is...my...friend,” like all awkward? I realized this morning that he’s gonna have to do that.”

Olivia sighs, adjusting the position of her bag shoulder strap and hooking her thumb onto it. “And you want to be introduced as an important person.”

“Yes! I--NO!”

“Aha!” Olivia finger guns. Caught red-handed...or...hearted...whatever it is.

“That is not what I am having an issue with! Look, you were right, okay. I don’t want it to be this way. I need to nix it.”

Olivia dragged her shoe heel to a halt, eyes round and mouth agape. “The fuck?! Ellinor, how am I to blame for this?”

“Your text! You...with the thing...and the ‘is this what I want’ shit!”

“Ugh! Ellinor, Jesus Christ!” she grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her off to the side. They had entered a little park-like area, with a couple trees and a cheap looking sitting bench. Guiding -- no, yanking -- Ellinor to it, she slung her onto her ass and set down her coffee.

“Alright, Ellinor, gloves coming off.”

“What?”

“Gloves, off,” Olivia rolls her shoulders. She’s still feeling bouncy and strong from workout. “You keep saying the opposite of what you feel and it shows. You obviously like him, and he obviously likes you. Why are you acting like being an adult only means saying no? The fuck?” Olivia throws her arms up.

“I’m not! I’m just being practical! I don’t even know if would want to be anything else. He seems perfectly fine as it is!”

“Who said to be friends, Ellinor? Who? I’ll give you three guesses, the first two don’t count!”

The world seemed to stop turning. Olivia stood there, hunched forward in her shoulders, looking like she was lobbying on a Congressional floor that water was a basic human right. That same ardor, all for her best friend botching her love life. But Ellinor was squirming for all the wrong reasons. She was doing exactly what she did when things got too good: finding a reason to call it good, while they were ahead.

Ellinor bunches her knees together and sits back, pouting.

“I said it,” she mumbles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear. Who?” Olivia holds a hand to the rim of her ear.

Ellinor purses her lips and looks off to the side, evading her eye. “I did…” another low tone.

“Uh, come again?”

“I did! Dammit!” she kicks the floor and folds her arms. “Shit, fuck, dammit…”

“BINGO! Ya’ll we got a winner!” The salt in her tone’s getting excessive, even for her own internal standards. Which, clearly, are immense. Deflating her tirade and taking a breath, Olivia puts her hands to her hips. Shifting from antagonist asshole friend to helpful soccer coach mom.

“Babe,” Olivia gives in, “maybe it’s time you listen to the Disney song and say you like him, and you know what you want from him.”

“Do I?” Ellinor asks as Olivia sits down next to her, thigh-against-thigh. She lays her head on Olivia’s shoulder. “I’m so confused I can barely think straight.”

“Hey, that’s less of a problem then you think.”

“Oh. Ha-ha, nice gay joke, funky little bisexual.”

Olivia giggles, and wraps her arm around hers. “Hey, it worked. And now, we’re gonna be late for class.”

“I know.”

They both sigh, and accept the inevitable. Each of them has their reasons. Ellinor probably doesn’t want to see Cullen and have all her existential agony to show off. Olivia just...wants to stop caring. The week has gone on logistically without a hitch, and her workaholic personality has ensured everything but her love and social life has gone smooth. Everything is on fire, but it’s fine. It’s so fine.

“Well, games are fun, right? We’ll have fun.”

Olivia stills, her cheeks flushing. It suddenly gets a whole lot hotter. “Uh, hey, about that…”

Ellinor twitches and sits up, looking at her with a pointed face of ‘oh god, please don’t.’ “Olivia…”

She cringes and bunches her shoulders. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You said yesterday it’d be fine! That you were all good under the hood!”

She glares, but with a laugh in the back of her throat. “I didn’t say ‘all good under the hood.’ I have never said that in my damn life.”

“You! But you said! Ugh, unbelievable!” Ellinor let her hands fall up, then down onto her jeans, making a slapping down. “What’s going on? Did you talk to Cass?”

Cass. She calls her Cass all the time. It’s nice, but it’s not her. Cullen calls her Cass, too. They all call her Cass. Why not her? Why does she have to be extra and say ‘Cassandra’ all the damn time? For fuck’s sake.

“No, I haven’t. It’s still radio silence, but…” she teeters on whether or not to explain, but she figures it’s written all over her face anyways. Ellinor’s look of skeptical frustration says as much. “I saw her this morning.”

She pauses. Anticlimactic, so it seems. “You...saw her? Is that...a big deal?”

“No, it’s…” she rubs her hand against her scalp of tied-back hair. “It’s not that, really. It’s...how I saw her.”

Ellinor looks as if she’s about to hear a testimony of assisted homicide, as she turns to face her, criss-crossing her legs and picking her coffee up. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know that girl I told you about, the one Josie introduced me too?”

“Yeah, the creepy redhead. What about her...oh, oh no. Liv…” she scowls in sympathy, “they weren’t…”

Liv smiles with sadness and looks off to the grass in front of them. “They were at the coffee shop. What was supposed to be our coffee shop. At 7:45 in the morning, no less. You know what that means.”

“...morning after hookup coffee…” Ellinor whines a bit in secondhand misery. “Fuck. It can’t be.”

“I mean, I was wrong. I must be,” Olivia shrugs. “Or she’s having very fond friendships.” Very, very fond. 7:45 in the morning, dressed with makeup on and school bags packed fond. No one’s that fond without something that perked them up the morning before. Unless you were Ellinor Trevelyan and hated admitting feelings.

“The worst part,” she chuckles again, “the worst fucking part! Is that Leliana said she heard about me. My dumbass was like ‘oh, cool, Josie mentioned me,’ but no! It was! Her! That...that!” she stops before she gets carried away, gritting her teeth as she puts her coffee to her chin. “They must laugh about me. Goodness, why would she make a move on Cassandra, she’s clearly not interested and spoken for! Secret...CIA lesbians…”

Ellinor rolls her lips, choking on her laugh she so desperately wants to let out. They refrain from eye contact in order to save face.

“You might be jumping to conclusions, maybe? They could be friends. Josie and her seemed tight, and you don’t know if this Leliana person is even--”

“I texted Theia after I saw them. She’s ‘one of us.’ And pretty, and sophisticated, and...has leadership roles. I look like a chipmunk and Marilyn Manson had a love child on a good day.”

Ellinor gasped, and slapped her in the thigh. “Olivia Berenice, shut up! What the hell! Whatever this woman has going for her, you’re hot, okay? Hot, and brilliant, and cultured!”

“I’m a chipmunk!”

Ellinor roars and starts tickling her in the side, but she only groans and squirms like a gangling preteen without proper cognitive awareness. But, laughter does take hold, and she even snorts.

“Fine, fine! I’m not a chipmunk!” she wiggles, “I just! I’m mad. I’m mad that I’m mad. I shouldn’t be jealous of something that wasn’t mine to begin with. But here I am, sulking and pouting, going ‘but that’s MY spare bike helmet she’s probably wearing, riding on the back of her motorcycle.’ I want to bury myself alive. This shit blows.” She sips more of her mocha, but the sweetness is no longer satisfying. The taste of resentment and unresolved bisexuality overtakes the white chocolate.

“It...it does blow,” Ellinor admits, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Damn.”

“So, forgive me, but I don’t think me showing up tonight will be good. Or necessary. I’m just gonna be that awkward friend that Cullen wants to be nice to but also respect his roommate’s choices. And from what I gather of Leliana, she’ll probably just go Avril Lavigne and kick me into the mini-golf lagoon.”

That evokes a laugh, but a sorry one. Pity. Ellinor downs the rest of her chai and slides her feet over the edge of the bench, boots barely touching down on the dirt. “That means I’ll be on my own with Rosalie, probably. Fuck.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad thing. You’re cute, and funny. From what I’ve heard of her, she’ll probably look at you like the sun shines out your ass. A grunge babe, out in the world and getting educated. Yeah…” she teases, a crooked and charming smile.

Ellinor groans. “I’m a mess, is what I am. She’ll see me twenty yards out and go ‘shit, what’s that hot mess express doing out here in public?’ and Cullen will go, ‘hey, that’s my friend! My friendly friend, who I only have friendship for. The friendliest friend to ever...friend…” she gets sadder the more she talks, as does her posture. It’s disheartening to see her spin and spin and spin, rather than just cut herself a break.

“Ell, you gotta put yourself outta your misery,” Olivia concludes, pulling her phone out. “And I don’t mean by taking a break.”

“There’s no way to know if I’ll be more miserable for indulging myself, though. I’ll just jump out into the water and fall flat on my face.”

“Or, he could catch you, like he’s been trying and offering to this whole damn time.”

“That’s not true!”

“Ughhh, Ellinooorr,” Olivia falls forward into her lap, her head hung low. “Christ alive.”

“It’s not! He doesn’t look a touch uncomfortable with being friends.”

“Yeah, because so far friends has gotten him a spooning-mate for what, three nights?”

“Two!”

“Two! My God, forget about it, nevermind!”

They roll their eyes at the same time but for contrasting reasons. Olivia, fed up a bit by the circular direction of the conversation, would rather go to class and risk being locked out for her delinquency. “Come on, to class, binch.”

Ellinor lays her head back but pushes herself up, dragging her feet but carrying on. When they’re back on the sidewalk, fresh air in their lungs, things feel a bit less useless.

“But that also means he’s probably sick of me making demands,” Ellinor speaks again after about a minute of walking. “If I try to reset the boundaries, he’ll probably think I’m too bossy or something.”

“The man likes to be bossed,” Olivia says rather mercilessly, “I’ve never seen a guy with a more apparent invisible “peg me” sign on his forehead.”

“Olivia!!”

“What?!” she shrugs, “there’s a nobility in getting pegged.”

“Yeah? And what would you be, if Cassandra was involved?” a sharp, cutting response. Maybe Olivia hit a nerve too far.

She sighs. “The best peggers know when it’s their turn to get pegged,” she answered, “I do not possess such talents. The force is not with me.”

They come to the short concrete walkway to Olivia’s building and stop. People walk past, closer so that they have to be more secretive with their highly classified discussion.

“The force could be in you, maybe,” she giggles crassly, “uh, I mean, pour one out for your pegging skills,” side-stepping towards the path where she must walk alone. “You sure you don’t wanna go, dude? It’ll be a crowd, and you can spend all your time with Rosalie if you want to. I might need the help if she turns out hating my guts.”

Olivia slides her hands into her jean pockets and looks around. No one familiar, no one worth her attentions. Good.

“I’m sorry, Ellinor. I’m recovering, and I’m a hell of a lot better than I was last weekend, but...I don’t think I can see her. See them...at least, not like that.” The sight of Cassandra playing soccer was still sacred to her. The first real sight she ever got of her in action, and the epicenter of happier times with Ellinor on the grass sipping drinks and fantasizing about their love stories.

“Okay. Text me, alright? If you change your mind I can just swing around and come get you.”

“No worries. I’m probably gonna drive home tonight, actually. I got my dress for the gala, I just need to go spend time with Mother dearest.”

“Ugh, really?”

“Yeah. I know,” she huffs, looking up at the third floor windows where her lecture is being held without her. “Time to wake up and get on with life. You, at least, are still holding out.”

“Psh! No,” Ellinor make a ‘yikes face.’ “I’m on thin ice right next to you.”

Olivia stares at her, a brow raised. “Ellinor.”

“...what?”

She shakes her head, and turns her shoulders towards the doors that await her. “I’ll put it this way: I walked out on my person after demanding space once, and she came back around. I did it again, and I lost everything good about it in fear of facing the ‘maybe’ bad stuff. Don’t be me, checking messages that are a week old, hoping that I somehow missed one. Don’t get your heart smashed into the sidewalk when you see him out with someone else because you didn’t know what you may have had. Please.”

It pains her to say it out loud, but it’s true. The week was a yellow-brick road of life lessons learned all-too-late. If she could go back, she’s unsure of what she’d do. Maybe not kiss her, maybe still try but then ask what was wrong. Talk to her. Listen. God, listen better. But it’s too late -- or, it’s too close to being too late, and she can’t keep doing this to herself.

Ellinor frowns, as if she is about to tear up. Olivia grins and pats her on the shoulder. “Hey, go to class, kid.”

“Okay. Text me, please? Let me know when you’re on the road and when you’re home.”

“I will. Love you, bestie.”

“You too, bestie.”

And with that, they part ways, Olivia retreating into her sacred building, called Tifton Hall by everyone else. The stairs sound better than an elevator, and when she gets to the third floor, she sees that class was let out early. Great, so it was no use showing up. She climbs back to the second floor where the faculty offices are along with the TA office desk and inboxes. If she can get nothing else out of being there, she can check for any last minute notes. She’s been a horrible TA -- it’s been over a week since she checked it.

Nothing’s there, though, with the exception of a red post-it. Some Professor’s shorthanded nonsense, probably. Ripping it from the box and sticking it on her finger, though, the truth is revealed:

“Stopped by to drop off things for a Professor. Hope you’re having a good day. -C”

Her throat nearly closes, or so it feels. It must have been old. She looks on the back, and true to Cassandra’s erudite character, it’s dated. The day before last Friday. The day they hadn’t seen each other, or text, really. Turns out her distance wasn’t so far.

She looks down either end of the hallway -- no one’s there to make fun of her for what she is about to do. She pulls out her favorite notebook and presses it to the inside cover. The last thing she’ll ever have, for when she starts to forget it was ever real.

God, Ellinor, don’t fuck up like I have.

Time to put headphones in and marathon King Princess, St. Vincent, and Halsey, her sapphic patroness Saints, until she feels too heartless to care. A playlist on her Spotify made by Sera for her last fallout with a girl, titled “Girl Troubles, Dedicated to Baby Liv.”

#college au #college au update #adventures of ellinor and olivia #ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #modern!olivia #UPDATE WOOOOOO #BRING ON THE CRINGE AND SUSPENCE #AND SAPPHIC DRAMA

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dmurrqut · 2 years ago

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Assessment 3/Transform Rescue Playtesting

Our team conducted some of our playtesting at the week 13 halloween playtesting party, in order to gather findings for our report & work out what kind of changes we'd make for hypothetical continued development.

Leading up to this, we got all of our playtesting materials ready. We adjusted the IGB220 templates for the playtesting questionnaire, script & survey in order to make them appropriate for our use. For example, we completed the question about genres the player might be familiar with to be about platformers, Metroidvania games and puzzle-adventure games. Given that our demo had no sound effects implemented, we also nixed sound questions in the survey.

Above: An example question from the questionnaire.

At this stage, our demo contained a brief tutorial level, 2 proper levels, and one boss level. Because the core mechanic of Transform Rescue is changing forms, we made a point of ensuring that these levels were dissimilar. Level 1 was a traditional horizontal level with very open spaces, level 2 was a vertical level with more cramped spaces (in addition to generally being more difficult) and the boss level was a standalone encounter against one strong enemy. The playtest would start with a brief ingame tutorial (that the player is brought to upon starting the game), and would end after the player had beaten the boss level.

The actual playtesting went pretty well. We managed to get 3 playtesters during the party, and all of them stuck through the whole process, including the post-playtest survey. I took notes while observing all 3 playtests.

The full findings will be covered properly in our report, but there were definitely some standout trends that could immediately inform us about changes we should make. The most obvious one is the balance between player forms.

The player can bring 2 forms into a level and there are 4 forms in the demo total, but one form - the "Ninja" form - was used for most of the demo by all participants. It was clear in our observations that it was far stronger than the other forms, and all playtesters explicitly stated that they thought it was far stronger than the alternatives. As an extension of this, the other 2 forms with abilities - the "Alien" and "Ball" forms - got relatively little use, aside from one playtester making a point of trying out the "Alien" form some more.

This relates strongly to chapter 10 of our readings, specifically the section on dominant objects and dominant strategies. A dominant object is an object or unit stronger than the rest that the player will gravitate towards using, and a dominant strategy is a strategy that dominates others, thus reducing viable choices for the player. (Fullerton, 2018). Using the ninja form is very obviously a dominant strategy - being much more successful than any other choice - so this seems to be a dominant strategy revolving around a dominant object, and that's something we should change.

Another significant finding about forms is about the game's basic form, the "Human" form. The way the game is currently designed, this is the first form the player has access to, and doesn't have any abilities. However, this confused all of the playtesters a bit; because they could still choose this form after getting access to another one, they weren't sure if it was meant to have an ability that made it useful or not. They spent time pressing buttons to see if it would do anything, and seemed a bit disappointed when it didn't.

There's much more we discovered, but these two stick out as solid trends across all playtesters, with relatively obvious causes and solutions. We should probably adjust the balance between forms by making the "Ninja" form less powerful, and we should also consider either making the "Human" form more useful or limiting its use to the tutorial stage.

Sources:

Fullerton, T. (2018). Game Design Workshop: A Playcentric Approach to Creating Innovative Games. ProQuest Ebook. Retrieved from: https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/qut/reader.action?docID=5477698

#assignment 3 #playtesting #development #transform rescue

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insane-control-room · 6 years ago

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{god([dess})titute]

Bertrum was a god. And a goddess. But all of him was destitute.

(1/2)

Bertrum blinked groggily, a fog in his mind, obscuring his senses.

His ears pulsed his heartbeat as he attempted to right himself, so he slumped back on the soft surface. His eyes snapped open.

He recognized the materiel.

Cloudlike, gentle, with reverberations rolling through it.

No, no, no, this could not be happening.

He tried to get up a second time, but failed, his back seemingly attached to the surface beneath him. He looked around in his horrifyingly pinned position and felt a part of him whither in the fear of one knowing they’re condemned.

His old room in Olympus. Everything that he left when he ran away abandoned exactly where it was when he left. Complete with all the dresses and makeup and… the damned mirror.

There was a small comfort, though. He was on his old couch on his back, something that never woul—

“Why are you laying like that? Proper seating, dear!”

He suddenly couldn’t breathe, his lungs not pumping the air he suddenly felt he didn’t need. Why would he need air if who he was was going to die.

The voice spoke to him in the same condescending manner he spoke to himself back then.

Before he finally was comfortable in his own skin.

“Aw, darling, you’re not how you should be arranged! You should look like a delicacy, not a plank!”

Okay, but what if he wanted to be a plank. What if he was sick of feeling broken. What if he was done with being us—

He gasped in fear as his body moved of its own accord, turning him to his side. The person in the room that he knew was there, and he knew who they were, but he couldn’t locate clucked in disappointment and disapproval.

“You’ve ruined your gorgeousness, love! Where are your curves? Your flowing grace? Here, let’s fix that.”

He was lifted from his position, from his tilted wrong position on the lounge, his slim legs walking him to the mirror in dragging steps. No, he never wanted to see himself in that mirror again. He wished with all his might he were far from it.

A hiss of disgust, air sucked in through teeth.

“What have you done to your face, oh, no! it was so pretty before, so incredibly pretty! Where is all that prettiness?”

I don’t want to be pretty anymore, he thought to himself in mental agony as a hand attached to an invisible body examined his face, forcing him to look at himself, his face, in the mirror. Hot tears were beginning to drip down his cheeks, but his words went unheard and unable to be said. I never wanted to be pretty. Ever.

“Let’s see now, ah, hm, your lips should be bigger, plumper, more beautiful, why are your’s so thin? Tsk, and their sweet color must be returned, you’re so pale!”

A soft hand pressed to his mouth with an unbelievable pressure, preventing him from screaming out even if his body allowed him.

He could feel his tissue, skin, and muscle writhe, bending themselves to the will of the person who was putting him back the way he was for years and the way he never wanted to be.

The hand was removed, and to his absolute horror, half his lips were from the wrong it’s the right one, your face is a lie face.

The hand settled its long, thin, but exquisite fingers on the tip of his hidden widow’s peak, something he never managed to be rid of, and slowly trailed down to his chin, ‘correcting’ him as it flowed.

“No creases in the forehead, enjoyment is thoughtless, a more gentle brow of course, no anger or irritation… Eyes softer, sweet and calm... longer lashes, that’s better! Beautiful, as it should be done so… and most definitely, a touch of blush to those colorless cheeks, doll! Nose rounder, just a little pointed up. See, you are just an instrument who needs tuning.”

The hand moved to cup his cheek, the one that wasn’t reverted to its former lustful state. The painted and lengthy nails dug into his skin right behind his jaw, a soft thumb wiping away his terrified tears, only for more to replace them. He tried with all his power to lean away from that hand, and finally his body replied with a jerk, leaving four painful scratches to his jaw and cheek instead of an even more painful comfort.

“Save the feistiness for bed, sweetheart. Learn some respect.”

His head spun and his ears rang as he was slapped across the face, the hand only hitting that which truly felt like him, then righted him by fisting in his hair, right on the line above his eye.

“Where are your flowing locks of gold?! Black, like a sewer rat! Detestful, it should be blonde, think prettiness!”

He can’t tear his eyes away, as it was a grotesque theater with his body as the only act. As the hand moved, he could see an feel his hair follow it, stretching and fading from the color he chose and growing as the color he hated most. The hand paused by his ear, and with a long bearing sigh, it began to reset that as well, muttering in his other ear as it worked.

“Smaller ears, that's right... and your earrings are missing, too.”

Bertrum knew that if he was not held in place by invisible silken threads, he would have dissolved in sobs on the cumulonimbus swirling floor at this point, instead, his restrained body was trembling, and he choked on tears and cries trapped in his throat.

“See? you can be beautiful! Touch your face, look upon your marvelous porcelain skin with your stunning pink flush! Though, that could be from crying… but beauty is beauty, and it comes with a price, my precious one.”

Whatever the cost, he’d pay it to see himself as who he really became, not the toy he was in the past. But his eyes were trained on the horrific sight before him, his mangled features; half perfect one way, a godly way, the other half perfect in another way, a human and imperfect perfection.

“Your shape is oddly off, don’t tell me you’ve twisted that part of yourself as well… ugh, your beauty is askew!”

Soft but displeased hands undid his buttons with dexterity, but that of someone used to undoing the clothing of others, not their own, as they fumbled slightly. Despite this, too soon his suit jacket was torn off, followed by his dress shirt, both carelessly dropped and trodden upon as his limbs all moved of their own volition. A toy, a puppet. His throat stung.

“Oh, absolutely not, darling! Dearest, how could you ever even think of pleasuring anyone with that body?”

His arms were yanked above his head, forced to turn before the mirror. His body wasn’t really anything amazing, but that’s the body he liked. Nothing too special or fancy, not too muscular or limp, just simply normal, and shapely in its own light.

His unseeable captor was clearly not of the same opinion.

“You had such a robust and voluptuous body! Ugh, what have you done to yourself! You were gorgeous! Treasure, darling, let's fix that, shall we?”

No! I don’t want to be ‘fixed’! He declared and shouted within his own mind, shaking as hands ghosted all over his body, turning his muscles and finely examining them. I want to be myself! No, please, leave me alone to be me, let me be who I am!

“We need to purge this from your system. You had a… ah, yes, a large and feminine bust, smooth arms, less shoulders…”

As the now angered hands moved across his chest and replaced tissue and fat where it had been, the very things he cut away through tears, he felt a strangled sob rip through his throat, unheeded. Nails tore at his arms, smoothing down from his shoulders.

“Why are your hands calloused!? Work!? Pleasure cannot be imbued into work! Absolutely not, you are an item to be held away from earthly endeavors, you are a precious ornament! Not to be carelessly worked!”

His hands were a memorabilia of all the ships he worked on to distract himself from these very thoughts, the roller coasters he helped build and then began to build himself, all his accomplishments. His hands were who he made himself into, and that was what he prided himself in.

He beheld half a torso and half a face that no longer was his own.

He tried pulling his hands away from himself, to bat away the hands undoing his belt, tossing it down among his discarded suit articles, pulling away his pants and his shorts and stepping him out of them not of his accord, the opposite of his will. He burned in shame as hands probed his body, feeling up and down him.

“You dismantled something wonderful, dear. Now let’s put back the pieces you ripped apart, your luscious full legs, shapely hips, yes… curvaceous and beautiful.”

He felt like vomiting, but held in his scream of bile,and he couldn’t tell if that was his choice or the other’s.

He kept his eyes closed as tight as possible, an a attempt to block out the sensation of hands running down his sides and slipping between his legs. A huff of frustration and blackball nix blew into his ear, too close, too near.

“I’m disappointed in you, you slimy coward of a goddess. You should have an organ for pleasuring others, not yourself! Never yourself, you can’t forget! Come now, you are supposed to be for everyone else!”

If earlier he could have wept, here he would have screamed and kicked and fought against this with all his might. But he could only whimper as his body was pushed further back than before, nearly at the same state as it was a millennia ago. The shape he cursed himself for maintaining so long when it clearly was not the one he should have had.

A peplos swept down to him, and he thanked whatever was above him for the small sweetness of at least partially covering his mutilated and mortifying figure.

It wasn’t much coverage, but it was better than nothing. Nothing but his twisted skin.

“So much more beautiful like this... reveal your skin, sweetheart... you need to smile a little, there we go!”

Half pretty and sweet.

Half average and bitter.

All a game, a little toy, a doll.

“Darling, look at you, beautiful, ready to be used… Hedone. A true olympian once again. Dearest, goddess of sensual pleasure! Hedone, pretty daughter of Eros!”

He’s sobbing because it’s true. The beautiful half smiling at him, that simple action cruel and unjustifiable. His lips are whispering the hateful truths. He falls to his knees, or tries to or wants to, but wings unfurl and catch him before he can move an inch. They carry him back to the kline, resting him on his side, his hip, making sure to display him to onlookers. His gown is allowed to slip, revealing more of his chest. Sickening him.

Someone enters his pavilion. He’s too worn down and exhausted to be able to tell who. Yet, in addition, it could be anyone looking for a little pleasure. Looking for pleasure herse— himself. They cannot tear who he is away. But they can slowly crush him with gentle caresses, such as the ones being rubbed on his shoulder.

The intruder turned the immobile goddess to his back, smirking down at him. That’s all Bertrum could see, the glint of white teeth. His peplos was hiked up slowly, being pushed up to his curved hips, revealing ivory skin and exactly what the other wanted.

A mouth covered his lips, unwelcome, undesired.

A hand between his legs, detested, defaming.

A, oh no, please no not again no no please, a finger curling within him, supposed to feel good, but it was just sinful, blazing hell, wrong wrong wrong.

He was taken, again and again, by so many, all a blur, never a pause or rest for his aching tortured body.

It was supposed to feel good, feel right, feel delicious.

It never, ever did.

Maybe he was broken.

If it wasn’t pleasure, why did people like it?

It never felt good.

However…

It burned. It stung. It hurt.

He hated it.

But the pain overwhelmed it all, and he cried out through false moans (truly of agony), and sobbed during mock laughs of pretend, painful, ‘pleasure’.

The name was whispered breathily in his ear often, shouted in ejaculations, moaned in trembling voices, all to him, about him, rutting it into his being,

Hedone.

He screamed.

#godesstitute part 1 #godesstitute #control art #control draws #control writes #control doodles #bertrum piedmont #demigod bertrum #trans character #tw: self loathing #self destruction #literally #asexual #asexuality #asexual erasure #body dysphoria

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calyssmarviss · 7 years ago

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Calyss Watches the Clone Wars - 51

03x10 - Heroes on Both Sides.

WHY ARE THOSE GUYS STILL ALLOWED IN THE SENATE.

OKAY SO I WENT AND ASKED WOOKIEEPEDIA because I just can't stand not understanding that shit and Lott Dod the Neimoidian apparently once said that they had "Nothing to do with the Separatists. Nute Gunray is an extremist. His views do not reflect those of the Trade Federation." But he was also working with Rush and Poggle (which I forgot) on that droid factory so, yeeeeeeah, the Trade Fed isn't that loyal to the Republic.

Is that Ahsoka in the background? I'm not sure with this shitty image but it really looks like her.

Don't other Senators have the *hover to the center of the Senate* function? They're all like *wave fist and shout* but Padmé just presses a button and suddenly everyone has to listen to her.

"Members of the senate. Do you hear yourselves? More money, more clones, more war. Say nothing of fiscal responsibility, What about moral responsibility? Hasn't this war gone on long enough?"

THAT'S NOT THE POINT PADME!!! The other side has droids, they can go as long as they want because those aren't sentient lives that they're wasting (and even if they were, I doubt that would bother them that much) and they probably don't hesitate taking credit from the Banking Clans in order to keep making them.

(Btw why doesn't the Republic use droids??? That would solve so many of their problems)

Well at least I'm pleased to see my characterization of her in my fic is spot on on that point: SHE WANTS TO NEGOTIATE WITH THE SEPARATISTS!!! Tho I'm for the right of the people to decide if they wanna belong to a nation or whatev' (like, for what I care, Corsica can fuck off if they don't wanna be french??? That's how democracy should work: If enough people in an administrative sector wants independence, it should be granted to them.) I'm not sure that it's what they really want. Like, sure that must be what local governments were promised by Dooku, but that's not what Palpatine wants.

Oh, yeah, that's Ahsoka, with Anakin. What are they doing there? Don't they have someplace to be like, I don't know... Fighting in the Clone Wars???

Bail's like "Why don't we, like WAIT for any EMERGENCY bill, uh??"

I really like this conversation for some reason:

Nix Card: "That legislation would have meant billions for us." Gume Saam: "I tried my best to push the bill through." Lott Dod: "You did your part, representative. Senator Amidala is the problem." Nix Card: "I thought age might temper her idealism."

(That guy needs to meet Satine. She's like 10 years older than Padmé and there is nothing temperate about her.)

Gume Saam: “I know people who could do something about her." Lott Dod, getting genre savvy: "That task is more difficult than you presume." Nix Card: "Gentlemen, the Banking Clan and Trade Federation are about business, not violence." Lott Dod: "Hmm, in this case, our business is violence." Nix Card: "Precisely.With or without senator Amidala, the Galactic Senate is unlikely to de-regulate the banks... Until this war hits home." Lott Dod: "What exactly are you proposing?" Nix Card: "Perhaps some unexpected bloodshed on Coruscant, uh, may change a few minds." Lott Dod: "Coruscant? Coruscant has not been attacked in over 1,000 years." Nix Card: "Then it has a false sense of security. There are some powerful clients on the other side who could help us, uh, shall we say, make the point?" Gume Saam: "Ooh, I like this plan." Nix Card: "No one cares what you think."

:'D

Padmé to Anakin: “You must ask the Jedi Council to...”

Imma gonna stop you right there, Padmé. Do you think the Council is going to listen to him???

“... speak with Chancellor Palpatine.” Anakin: “Don’t involve me in this!”

I love Anakin so much.

WAIT

DID IT JUST HAPPENED WHILE OBI-WAN WAS CHASING ZIRO WITH QUIN? DID ANAKIN HAD HIS MAKEOVER????

ANAKIN YOU’RE KILLING ME

"War's complicated, Ahsoka. But let me simplify it. The Separatists believe the Republic is corrupt, But they're wrong, and we have to restore order."

You sweet summer child.

Also did no-one thought to explain it to Ahsoka before?

Ahsoka: "Master Skywalker said you should teach me about politics." Padmé: "Right." Ahsoka: "You know, you two have more in common than you think. It's no wonder you get along well." Padmé: "Huh. Of course."

Oh, Ahsoka, baby... How do I explain to you... :’D

GRIEVOUS'S SPEECH TO THE DROIDS

I love this?

How the fuck was Mina Padmé's mentor? What was she doing on Naboo?

I want that house Uh. Mina's voice sounds older than she looks. And Ahsoka looks already done with Lux :'D

Seriously what a dollface.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA AHSOKA I LOVE YOU GIRL.

So it’s been a while but I’m pretty sure this was referring to Ahsoka and Lux and “seems like boys are the same weither they are Republic or Separatist.”

Padmé: "I sense Dooku's dirty hand in all of this."

Boy does he has dirty hands. Have you seen his fingernails?

Mina: "Too peace, then." Padmé: "To hope."

URGH. Can they talk about something else than hope in Star Wars? I'm growing tired of the optimism here. Like they could toast to common sense that would be refreshing.

That looks a lot like the british parliament.

So the Separatist Parliament agrees on meeting with the Senate to talk peace, which we all know is gonna fail obv...

Grievous really gets all the best stuff. Look at this fancy chair! :o

Clone working directly for the Senate?

Because that's the Senate symbol... Don't they have their own guards? That's a rhetorical question I know they have guards I killed a whole bunch of them in my fic it was glorious. (No actually it wasn't I was too busy killing Temple Guards the Senate Guard got a bit overlooked)

Cleaning murder bots fucking stupid they don' teven know where the power generators are *eyeroll*

Senate Clone: "Stupid droids."

OMG SHEEV SHUT YOUR DIRTY FUCKING MOUTH. AND PADME YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MORE CLEVER THAN THIS JUST DON'T SQUINT AT HIM LIKE "I don't understand" OF COURSE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND BITCH NO ONE UNDERSTAND BECAUSE YOU'RE ALL FUCKING MORONS.

You gross Amedda.

What is this I love it. OH SHIT IT'S, LIKE, UNDER THE SENATE???? ARE THOSE THE POWER GENERATORS???? OMG.

1) are those radar technicians? no they're not but who cares they're the Matts from now one. 2) the Matts are all humans dudes so I think some higher up is both specist and mysoginist

Well shit. Oh much do you wanna bet no one is gonna suspect the Banking Clans when obviously there are the one who beneficiate the most from the vote not happening? AND HERE THEY GO. LET'S DEREGULATE THE BANKS. WHAT A BUNCH OF FUCKING IDIOTS.

For once Padmé is feeling the stupid too.

OH HELLO ANAKIN I'VE MISSED YOU. You're talking shit tho man. He's like "we have eyes and ears everywhere so ofc we know it's the Sepies". Ans also:

"It was dangerous and careless to go to Raxus, not to mention illegal. You went to far this time."

LIKE EXCUSE ME SKYWALKER BUT "DANGEROUS, CARELESS, ILLEGAL , and GOING TO FAR"???? That's you in a nutshell buddy.

Ahsoka: "You would do the same. You do the same all the time!"

THANK YOU SNIPS.

Prev/Next

#star wars #the clone wars #calyss watches the clone wars #padmé amidala #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #mina bonteri #lux bonteri #sheev palpatine #bail organa #tcw3 #long post

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dumplingwrites · 7 years ago

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Writing Preview: Cairo - Chapter 17

“And… is it safe?”

“I don’t believe anything in life is safe,” Aidan said simply with a shrug. “In your relative terms of ‘safety,’ I suppose it might be, but I’m not about to put you in harms way to check. We’ll wait here for reinforcements to come before we go in.”

“What about the doctor then? And his wife? Nix is still in there too! We can’t just… just leave them while we wait out here.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. I’m not some kind of hero. I’m a human with limits. I might go in had I been by myself, but I won’t take that risk with a civilian at my side. You are to wait here with me in case something happens.”

“What if we can save them! They could still be alive and breathing.”

“It’d be rather unfortunate then.”

Cane gritted his teeth. His knees weak, he fell to the ground. What Aidan said wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be like that. He clenched his fists on the ground. This wasn’t all because he was useless. It wasn’t all his fault! Cane’s voice shook, barely above a whisper. A deathly glare was cast at Aidan. He flinched slightly at the pure ire in the look.

“There are people in that building that could be hurt, dead, or dying. You’re part of the government. You’re one of the strongest people in this country. You’re here right now seeing what I do. So don’t act like it’s none of your damn business what’s up ahead. Can or can’t, it’s your duty as a decent human being to worry about those people in there. You’re not a hero on a time limit or some kind of glorified being and people won’t fall to their knees in front of you, so stop fucking acting like one.”

Aidan blinked. He simply watched as Cane struggled to his feet. The glare that had never left Cane had turned into a darkened smirk. Aidan creased his eyebrows, unsure of the new development in the child before him.

“I don’t believe in your batshit logic,” Cane spat.

Without warning, Cane bolted for the elevator doors. Not being able to stop properly, he slammed his whole body into the wall, pressing the button under his weight. The doors instantly opened and Cane jumped in, pressing the button to close the doors before he even got himself properly balance. Aidan tried to dash after him, but as he reached out his arm just as he neared the elevator, Cane stuck up his middle finger.

The doors closed gently.

#My writing #cairo novel #story preview #my stories #original story #chapter story

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asterose · 4 years ago

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Gonna attempt to do a proper reblog conversation, and apologies that I am super chatty-I love writing and analyzing and SPOP has so much material for it! 1) Entrapta: Wish they were permitted to put age lines to Entrapta’s face or do anything else to clearly show her age! She is at least a bit...thirsty and sexual in S5 right down to a bustier outfit. A lot of staffers shipped Entrapdak from early on & have drawn fanart for it, including Noelle! Also ADHD, shortness, and autism can easily misread as immature instead of neurodivergent and simply short. (I am both those things-ADD and super short! I also work in the psychology field so I came in already equipped with some unique background experience & knowledge.) 2) Hordak’s age: Staff have said he was designed as a young clone but what that means in human years is still undecided. Fans have tried to run the math and he seems to have only been on Etheria 2-3 decades; it’s even not impossible for him to actually be a little younger than Entrapta, though unlikely. And, well...does immortal Angella x mortal Micah bother you? Hordak’s memories are likely not reliable at this point. If Wrongie’s a “newborn” clone (not entirely clear in show), then clones are “born” pre-programmed with knowledge and “memories.” It’s not impossible that Hordak served just 1-3 years till his defect showed but it felt way longer, or it could actually have been for centuries-we don’t know! Add in Hordak needing to continuously convince himself to keep going, keep clinging to the hope that conquering Etheria will change Prime’s mind about euthanizing him, and how he NEEDS to keep Etherians convinced he’s an indomitable military leader could = “I was Top General! Fear me! Follow me!” More interestingly, the clones live a life with a CCXFDZaLOT of Fridge Horror and dark possibilities. We see there are no ranks and clones do all kinds of tasks. What are the most Prized tasks one could have? Being at Prime’s side directly, being his lifeforce spa attendant, pressing 2 buttons for him so he can read a particular thing. Being Chosen To Give Body Parts To Him (staff wanted to have a clone missing an eye b/c it was given to Prime, but animation issues nixed showing it). Even Being Chosen as a Next Possible Vessel. Being petted and praised directly by him. It’s possible that Hordak was in line for those things, but then his defect surfaced and Prime went “eww a broken one never mind throw it away.” 3) Catra: I brought her up as many antis who come at us quickly reveal they hold a double standard of minimizing, excusing, and washing away everything she did while demonizing and writing off Hordak completely. Aaaand sometimes accusing us of being pro-real-life-horrible-things-he-allegedly-did-but-the-show-didn’t-even-verify just b/c we like this fictional villain. The most common points by antis, after peeling back their shallow faux-moral-justice claims, boil down to a pick of any of the following: “Catra was just traumatized she didn’t really mean everything she did she was always immediately sorry she was just unwell everything she did should be forgiven and she didn’t REALLY do anything all that bad it’s all Shadow Weaver and Hordak’s fault! She never even actually tried to kill anyone and Entrapta was fine and the world was fine after the portal thing so it doesn’t matter that she did those things anyway!!! But HORDAK IS UNFORGIVEABLE EVIL MONSTER WITH 0 DEPTH AND HE TRIED TO KILL CATRA BACK IN Season 2 SO I STOPPED PAYING ATTENTION TO HIM HOW DARE YOU THINK HE’S ANYTHING ELSE! HOW DARE YOU LIKE AND SYMPATHIZE WITH HIM!” Catra was the primary antagonist right down to the title cards and she was brilliantly competent as such: She drove a 400% increase in everything the Horde was doing to Etheria, she didn’t spare kids in Elberon village from capture, she didn’t release child cadets in the Horde, she was the mastermind of Salineas to the point that Hordak initially protested b/c he had no idea why she was pulling troops, she pulled the definitely-very-dangerous portal switch that nearly destroyed the world and “killed” Angella, she sent Entrapta to certain-death island, she tried to and nearly did kill Adora and allies more than once. And she learned from Shadow Weaver’s abuse how to manipulate people, find and use their insecurities and weaknesses, how to invade people’s space and touch them to manipulate them. She used Hordak’s disability and mobility aid against him as well as hit his insecurities to gain the upper hand (and their odd sort-of-sometimes-almost-equals mutual validation was interesting despite how awful it was). She was turning into Shadow Weaver to her own horror and devastation as she spiraled downwards in pursuit of what she thought would make her happy and forget Adora. It was so fascinating! Her perpetuating abuse and trauma from being heavily driven from all the horrific abuse and trauma doesn’t erase those things! But Hordak and Entrapdak haters sure want to wave her completely, while completely trashing or straight-up denying Hordak’s own motives born of major abuse and trauma. How he went crawling back to his abuser on his knees, did everything on Etheria in order to give up his individuality and control nad potential profits to Prime, how he like Adora and Wrongie believed he was morally right and his view of life was reasonable. How he was a shut-in who actually left much of the Horde running to 2nd-in-Command, how he was 1 spacebat from a society with no children thus know sense of why and how to value them-->all the native Etherians in the Horde had culpability for how the kids were raised, etc. Pluuus the heroes merrily bring children into battle, and the only war PTSD was the joke of the mayor of Elberon, so uh... Some people even don’t see how he had a disability at all. There’s a lot of “what show did you even watch.”

wait ppl actually ship entrapta and hordak? 😳

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derkonterfei · 7 years ago

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MEIN BESTSELLER Teil 1 – Elke Silvia Krystufek Im neuen Buch von Elke Silvia Krystufek MEIN BESTSELLER, Teil 1 geht es ums Verkaufen. Was alles wie verkauft wird, wie Menschen sich selbst verkaufen, Seelen verkauft werden und wie schön es ist, das alles literarisch zu beschreiben. Der globale Markt hat gewonnen und verloren zugleich. Ein kleines Buch ganz groß. Die New York Times titelt: Die Ramallah Times hat uns das Papier geklaut. Der Spiegel winselt: Oje, so wollten wir das nie gesehen haben. Die Presse presst heraus: Press your button, baby. Der Kurier nimmt alles mit und gibt nix wieder. Und Die Krone setzt dem Ganzen die Krone auf. Nur Heute druckt ein kleines Foto für die neuen Analphabeten.

Elke Silvia Krystufek’s new book, MY BESTSELLER, Part 1, deals with selling: what is sold in which way, how humans sell themselves, how souls are sold, and how beautiful it is to write about all this in a literary manner. The global market has won and lost at the same time. The New York Times titles a story, “The Ramallah Times has stolen our paper.” The Mirror whines, “Oh no, we didn’t want to see it this way.” The Press presses under pressure: Press your button, baby. The Courier takes everything away and delivers nothing. And the Crown crowns everything. Only Today prints a little image of the illiterates.

DER KONTERFEI 035 / Paperback / Deutsch – English / 60 pages / 300 copies / ISBN 978-3-903043-24-4 / Release Date: September 2017

Go to Webshop: www.derkonterfei.com

OUT OF STOCK

#elkekrystufek #robertjelinek #derkonterfei #performance #bestseller

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allthetribbles · 4 years ago

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Revelations! - April 07, 2085

Things are looking up for the team. We've gained major favor from the NEG general and possibly even a little respect from Director LeAnne. We aren't entirely slouches at work! With the tip of the summoning location handed off to the big guns to watch (and wait for), our hands are free to dabble in other troubles.

We can follow up with two items - tracking Weaver's team or Bobby and the artifact. There is a lot of debate, but it is finally agreed that we'll visit Ricky and Luanne outside the arcology to follow up on Weaver's team. Te'ani offers Liv one of his pills since she's still looking a little rough. She accepts it.... but doesn't take it. She'll wait to talk to Ricky for his advice on healing.

The trip out there is uneventful, but there is one very interesting tidbit in the news - Sage's sister will be taking over the company. She seems to have.... shown up out of nowhere. She claims she hid from Sage when he gunned down his family to take over the company. He's not exactly around to dispute her claim...

Oh, and she's agreed to a licensing contract with Crysalis. Mental reaction - YIKES!

We arrive at Ricky's. Te'ani makes a beeline for Luanne's room without even a hello to Ricky. He comes back out less than five minutes later. Ricky, in the meantime, raises an eyebrow, asking if we had a bad night.

Alan, "You could say that." Ricky, "I might be able to help. It really depends on you guys." Liv, "What do you need from us?" Ricky, "Not what you give to me, but what you're willing to take."

Alan asks him to explain and Ricky offers us the option of nightgaunt blood and tells us that it will give us a temporary regenerative power. The downside is that we can't go through any genetics testing during the time it's active - approximately 24 hours later.

Te'ani refuses - "Hey, I'm good. This is all on you three." Liv, "That's right, Mister Regen. It's our decision."

She said this in front of Ricky, who started asking Te'ani a lot of questions. Liv knew what she was doing. She smiles as Te'ani glares daggers at her.

Liv accepts the transfusion, as does Alan and Kory. They stick around for an hour to make sure there are no additional side effects. While they were waiting, Liv slips away to talk to Luanne.

Luanne's still very damaged with little progress made for healing her. Liv is hesitant to speak with her, but she has questions. She isn't sure what Jack has talked to Luanne about so it is a little awkward. Liv asks what it would take for Luanne to re-establish a connection to the Society - or whatever she wants to call it. Luanne is hesitant to tell Liv about the organization; we're all in a precarious situation as is and the less that is known is better.

Liv agrees with that but again, she wants Luanne to establish contact with the Society for herself - Luanne requests an untraceable comm. It is made clear the Society, while having similar goals of the OIS... is definitely AT ODDS with them. Luanne recommends seeding information within the OIS to begin to test the waters and facilitate talks. Liv asks if recovering Freddy would help. "That would go a long way to smoothing some things over." She also recommends talking to Te'ani.

They couldn't return to the cabin to follow up with Bobby because they were avoiding genetic scanning, but the team didn't want to sit on their hands for 24 hours to be able to re-enter the city either. Where we dropped off Bobby is a couple more hours out... Liv insists that we pick up at the cabin instead, but that's.. dropped to focus more on locating Weaver's skull and portal.

Well, there are always ways to re-enter the city outside of the official means... as OIS we know that. That is our entire job - tracking these liabilities and plug them. For instance, there are the military tunnels, Tory, the Brothers, our contact within Sage Industries (David)... or call the office to get a reprieve from genetic testing.

We nix the idea of contacting Home Office very quickly. We may be given a lot of leeway, but we weren't willing to test the new favour of Director LeAnne. While we're debating on how to proceed, Kory's pip goes off. It's Tory... and she asks to talk to Liv.

Kory, "Why do you want to talk to Liv?" Tory, "Just... let me talk to Liv, please?"

"We wish to speak to our Little Sister."

The Brothers have come calling. Kory looks angry but hands over the pip. She doesn't ask what they're doing with Tory. She isn't curious enough to open that line of questioning.

Liv, "My Brothers... " "Little Sister, Brother has had a vision of you. Been doing something naughty with your dream friends, haven't you? Tut... tut... However, if you're willing to pay the price, we can assist you with your problem by giving you the key." Liv, "If I have to ask the price, I can't afford it." "Indeed."

Liv is hesitant and she looks to the others... but the decision is hers.

Liv, "Let's do this." "Very well, Little Sister. Go to 37640 Devin Terrace. You'll know where to find us." Liv, "See you there?" "Perhaps..."

Te'ani may have driven them out of the arcology, but Liv takes the keys to drive now that's she's back to full form. Devin Terrace is located outside the arcology, an abandoned city block that looks like any other. They look around but don't notice anything out of place... except for Te'ani. He leads the way to a manhole cover inside a building. He's able to pry it open to reveal another with an electronic lock.

Liv gets ready to crack the lock before Te'ani points out the DNA scanner. Everyone looks hesitant to put their finger in the hole. Cowards. Liv volunteers and the lock beeps and swings open to reveal a ladder leading down to a platform. Liv stops him when he attempts to join them.

Liv, "Te'ani, you're the only one of us that will come back human to enter the arcology. Take the car back and meet us inside." Te'ani, "What? Are we really splitting the party?" Liv, "I'm not happy about it either." Alan, "It isn't the most advisable plan." Liv, "We don't have a choice." Te'ani, "FINE... where are we meeting up?" Liv, "Chinese sound good?"

Three descend into the darkness. Te'ani goes back to the car, really not liking the idea of heading back alone. He comes back clean on the scanner and he enters the arcology with no questions asks.

- - - - -

The other three descend to a platform that has an elevator, leading even further down. Getting on, we have to press a button to continue our descent. We have to alternate pressing the button until we get down to the sixth level. Once it finally opens, the three are deep underground. We're well below the power station levels, close to where the military tunnels would be. It is dark, creepy... and those are definitely not rats we hear skittering about.

Alan can see that they're magically active creatures and when we step forward, several sit up and start watching our group... intently, even hungrily. Alan gets out his orbs and those scare off a few of the littler creatures, but there are still two to three hanging around. We get a closer look as we pass - they're not normal creatures, they definitely look like someone's magical experiment gone wrong.

The team walks about thirty to forty minutes in a general westward direction. It isn't a direct path, going up and down, weaving through the ground. Quite suddenly, the area opens up into an open market bazaar. We didn't expect... this. We didn't expect to see an entire city under Seattle.

Before we enter, we're stopped by two big green guys, demanding to know our business in the market. Liv is not good with negotiations, but luckily, Alan steps up and intimidates the guards to allow us entry. They warn us - "You no cause trouble. Enter. Trade."

Well, Liv didn't exactly expect to come to the market... this is a bit awkward...

With Alan's arcane sight going, he's aware of... a lot going on. There's a lot of people here - many of them outsider tainted. Most alarming is a man with three mystic unborn following him around. You could definitely say that we're staring back as much as we're being stared at. Behind Alan, a long spidery limb appears over his shoulder.

"You know, you really shouldn't be staring at people down here. People may take offense and put you down a deep, dark Pit."

"Wary" would definitely be a good word to describe this meeting.

The old man continues to talk and insults us by calling us clean and official looking. Well, maybe that isn't an insult - it's hard to tell. In the wrong place, that could be an insult? He offers to take us somewhere to get some new clothes to blend in a little better.

"The miss here has some major mojo. She can set you up, right?"

Wait, did he motion to Liv? The situation just went from leery to suspicious. How did he know that Liv had money? That was only a very, very recent affair...

He directs us to a little tent where a woman with a reddish sheen to her skin is sitting. She raises an eye at the old man, speaking to him directly. "What do you want here?"

He explains that our group needs new clothes - and that Liv is paying for it. "She's good for it, I assure you."

Kory finally, FINALLY hooks everyone up with a mental link.. and is immediately called out by the old man. He also knows that we're OIS and we "came down the pipeline." She seems alarmed to say the least. He is quick to point out that we'd only be using the back entrance into Seattle if we were no longer human...

"What kind of trouble have you brought to me?" Lilith asks reluctantly, but money is a great motivator. She gets the rundown on us - two parapsychics and one sorcerer. She avoids touching us, but she fits us with different clothing.

The price isn't discussed and Liv is reassured that it will be an unmarked transaction listed on her pip. Now that we look a little more... acceptable... The man introduces himself as "Jimmy."

He explains that we seem to be looking for a friend that we think is dead, but could possibly not be dead. The conversation gets confusing very quickly. Jimmy is much better at directing a conversation than Liv. Alan's the only one that picks up they're talking about two different people.

Jimmy asks, "Wait - how many people do you know that are dead that could be alive?"

"Two, three, maybe?"

Alan asks, "Is there any place we can be more direct with our conversation? And we can be of more help to each other?"

"Sure, I know a place. You're buying."

Liv, "Of course I am."

As he leads the way through the market, people give him a wide berth. Even those that wanted to victimize him are pulled away by others, a hushed warning given to them. He is quick for an old man and he leads the way through the tunnels. At this point, we're definitely inside the arcology... He climbs out of the pipes and through another manhole, through a building and into a vent duct. When we come out... we recognize this place.

The Golden Dragon is across the street, with Te'ani standing out front.

"Is that your friend?" Jimmy asks Kory. Liv confirms.

Jimmy walks across the street, "Friend, buddy, compadre! Let's eat. Your friend is buying."

"Who is this guy?" Te'ani is confused. Jimmy and Te'ani have a stare down....

The group enters the restaurant. Our table is set, our drinks are prepared and menus are in place. All pretenses are dropped, as is Kory's mental link.

Jimmy says to Te'ani, "I know what you are, freak." Te'ani does not like being called that.

"Name's Jimmy. I hear you're looking for a friend of mine, but Freddy's dead - I was there in Juneau when he died." What follows is a very productive chat...

He wasn't in Juneau for anything to do with the OIS.. unfortunately they didn't realize it was a setup until after the fact. He thanks us for rescuing Luanne. He asks where we got the notion that Freddy's alive.

Liv admits that she hugged George and got a vision. Liv lays out the information that Weaver and her team were in OIS custody - and eventually was settled into an OIS safehouse. He does not look happy about that revelation... only Liv catches the sight of his teeth becoming very.. sharklike.

Liv asks him to calm down - Jimmy assures her if he was upset with THEM... they wouldn't get a chance to counter.

He asks why we'd be willing to rescue one of the Society.

Te'ani says, "We might be OIS, but we could always use another perspective." Liv, "Director Elwood encouraged our unorthodox procedures."

Jimmy comments, "He did have some interesting friends." He knows where Luanne is and is aware of the nightgaunt pack. Liv requests he doesn't harm Ricky - he responds "I know George is there. George knows better."

He'll see what he can do on his end, but if we're able to recover Freddy... it will do a great deal in smoothing things over between our organizations. Luanne said much the same. If we do go across, feel free to return them (Weaver's team) dead or alive...

He gives us a warning about the minions of a common adversary have gained control over several artifacts. Alan admits we're aware of this, but disputes that they only have two.

Liv says they were looking for a friend that was holding the third and feared him dead. Jimmy says hopefully, he's still alive, but fears Liv may be right, because their latest information holds them at three.

Liv asks if they're aware of the location of the proposed summoning. They aren't. Liv gives him the coordinates.

He asks if we're aware of another threat - Alan asks, "The Ghoul?"

So we are aware of him! We learn that he's moved on from basic skeletons to "enhanced humans." Jimmy's not sure of the end goal yet.

Liv asks about Sage's sister - Jimmy confirms that she's one of "Them."

He turns to Alan, "You know some interesting words, my friend (Tagers and Dhohanoids). Where did you learn them?" Liv, "Director Elwood. So working together... does this make us friends?" "Allies of convenience at best. You're doing something I want. I have something you want. Our paths are aligned for now, whether they continue... remains to be seen."

Liv asks if he knows where the skull and portal are. He writes out a map of the sewers. "This is where it was last. Where it leads I don't know, if it's moved.. I don't know where it could be now. If you do go through with it... I hope you go more prepared than you're currently dressed. I think Weaver and her team were very unprepared. If they're alive, try to bring them back." If dead.. we don't have to bring back their bodies and we're welcome to whatever is on them of value.

He wishes us the best of luck, says he'll be in touch later, and thanks us for the "entertaining day."

Te'ani answers a few pointed questions from everybody. He finally admits that he is a Tager and that he was "chosen." Liv asks if it's like an engel - does it have a name? It doesn't, but he feels like its purpose is to "be joined with someone to give it a purpose."

It turns out that Alan has been doing his own research on the Eldritch Society...

It's questioned whether or not we really should go through the dimensional portal... time for Liv to admit she had been doing research as well, on the patron deity of sorcerers and parapsychics. Te'ani doesn't like the sound of that.

"Are we really sure we want to go through this dimensional portal for this guy?"

Liv is for going through the portal, but admits that it will be extremely dangerous...

Looking pointedly at Kory - "Remember the conversation on the way to the cabin? About who I betrayed?" Kory is no help at all. "A lot has happened, please refresh me, Liv."

So she reviews the information - when she recovered the artifact from Weaver's team, she was under instructions to take it to an address. She instead brought it to the OIS for safekeeping. Those instructions were from the patron deity of sorcerers and parapsychics. The guys don't look happy about this revelation. Kory begins to tease Liv with the name - Liv stresses, "Don't say the N-word!"

GETTING BACK TO THE STORY!

"In this dimension, I brought the artifact to the OIS, delaying the summoning. I'm fairly certain that did not happen in that dimension..."

Te'ani, "So you think that we're going to be heading to a world where Mother has been summoned."

Liv, "Yeah... and I'm fairly certain we'll be going against myself..."

Good dinner conversation, team.

#ois #ctech #liv frostburn #game notes

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ntrending · 5 years ago

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Last week in tech: The Fortnite World Cup, Capital One’s hack, and the Impossible Whopper

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/last-week-in-tech-the-fortnite-world-cup-capital-ones-hack-and-the-impossible-whopper/

Last week in tech: The Fortnite World Cup, Capital One’s hack, and the Impossible Whopper

Might just be a viable career option. (Epic Games/)

Even if you had previously avoided the brightly-colored gaming juggernaut of Fortnite, this week likely changed that. Last weekend, a 16-year-old named Kyle Giersdorf won $3 million at the Fortnite World Cup by virtually murdering players from around the world in a tournament that started as an open event with tens of millions of participants. Since then we’ve been inundated with debates on whether or not it’s “legitimate” for kids to concentrate on playing a game as a career. The discussion has been truly mind-numbing, but almost impossible to resist. But while you were defending—or decrying—teens for wanting to drop everything and frag n00bz in virtual worlds, the tech news kept on flowing. Here’s a look at what you may have missed.

Listen to a special episode of the Techathlon Podcast

Techathlon isn’t quite officially back from summer break, but we recorded a short episode to help soak up hours of driving during your long rides to the beach. This installment of the Techathlon Decathlon pulls 10 trivia questions from the past few weeks. Play along! When you do well, tell your parents you want to go pro. Or, just talk smack on Twitter about it.

You can listen in the player above, subscribe on iTunes, add us on Stitcher, join us on Anchor, or check us out on Spotify.

Capital One got hacked

It’s getting harder and harder to keep up with all the companies suffering data breaches, but this week a major bank took the security spotlight. The issue affects more than 100 million people in the U.S. and includes roughly 140,000 social security numbers, which is bad news.

Apple won’t let contractors listen to your conversations with Siri anymore

A report from The Guardian claims that contractors working on behalf of Apple regularly listen to requests users make to Siri (for quality control purposes). Unfortunately, that means those contractors allegedly hear all sorts of things they’re not meant to hear, including personal information and potentially embarrassing queries. Apple says humans hear less than 1 percent of the Siri requests, and only do so in an effort to improve its performance. But now Apple is nixing access for outside contractors, at least, and will eventually let users completely opt out of being overheard. Until then, consider keeping your Siri banter PG-13.

Burger King’s Impossible Whopper goes wide next week

BK’s foray into the fake meat space was wildly successful in its limited trials, and now it’s going all across the U.S.. The Impossible patty still comes with mayo, like a regular Whopper, so you’ll have to nix that if you want it vegan. But you can also add bacon and cheese to it, if you’re so inclined.

Amazon Dash Buttons will stop working at the end of this month

Dash Buttons—Amazon’s physical buttons that allow you to order a product with a simple press—have been dying a slow death for months now. The company stopped selling the devices earlier this year, and units already out in the world will stop working on August 31. So, if you truly love ordering laundry detergent by pressing a button, get your kicks now.

Don’t count on that $125 from Equifax

A settlement from 2017’s Equifax hack promised affected users the chance to claim $125. Now, however, some of those users may find themselves disappointed as the funds have quickly run out. Only $31 million of the massive settlement was meant for cash payouts to individual users, so even if you took the time to submit a claim, you may end up with nothing. The FCC recommends you pick the free credit monitoring option as compensation instead of the cash. Sweet justice.

Sony released its new RX100 VII compact camera

Smartphones decimated the small camera market years ago, but there are a few models still worth your attention. Sony’s RX100 series is where you should be looking. These cameras have imaging sensors much bigger than the one in your phone, which improves photo quality, and the 8x zoom lens has a fast aperture to let in lots of light. The new RX100 VII also features a real microphone jack, which makes it extremely appealing for YouTube vlogging—a great backup career if your shot at professional Fortnite playing doesn’t pan out.

Written By Stan Horaczek

#Technology

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driveaugust1-blog · 5 years ago

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Every McDonald’s touchscreen in study tests positive for fecal bacteria

MONEYISH

You deal with more crap than you realize every day.

We all suspect that high-traffic public surfaces like subway poles, railings and door knobs are covered in toilet germs. But traces of feces were found on every McDonald’s touchscreen swabbed in a recent investigation by Metro.

The burger chain has added self-service kiosks that let customers tap what they want on the touchscreen before picking up their orders from the counter. And when the U.K. news site asked researchers at London Metropolitan University to test the screens at eight McDonald’s restaurants, including six in London and two in Birmingham, every one of them had coliforms, or the bacteria found in feces. A screen at one branch had traces of staphylococcus, a bacteria that can cause blood poisoning and toxic shock syndrome. Listeria, which can lead to miscarriages and stillbirths in pregnant women, was also found.

‘We were all surprised how much gut and fecal bacteria there was on the touchscreen machines,” Dr Paul Matawele, a senior lecturer in microbiology at London Metropolitan University, told Metro. “These cause the kind of infections that people pick up in hospitals.”

Dr. Philip Tierno, a clinical professor of Microbiology and Pathology at NYU School of Medicine, was not surprised. “We are bathed, as a society, in human feces,” he told Moneyish. “Wherever numerous people touch the same surface over time, they deposit their germ passport, which can include bacteria from three body places -- respiratory, skin and fecal sources.”

“This (Metro) report shows that people do not properly pay attention to hand hygiene -- especially hand washing,” he added. “Eighty percent of all infectious diseases are transmitted by direct and indirect contact. Direct like coughing, sneezing, talking, kissing someone; and indirect like touching a dirty fomite (doorknob, phone, computer, elevator button, touchscreen, etc.) and then touching your eyes, nose, or mouth or a break in the skin.”

While McDonald’s has yet to respond to a Moneyish request for comment, a spokesperson told Metro that, “Our self-order screens are cleaned frequently throughout the day. All of our restaurants also provide facilities for customers to wash their hands before eating.”

And McDonald’s isn’t the only chain where you risk picking up a crappy meal. Other reports have revealed that the coffee or tea you’re sipping – and even the cash you used to pay for it – also carry bacteria found in feces.

The BBC’s consumer show “Watchdog” tested drinks at McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Burger King in the U.K., and found traces of fecal coliform bacteria in the iced drinks at each chain. Another BBC investigation also discovered iced drinks from the U.K.’s most popular coffee chains, including Costa Coffee, Starbucks and Caffe Nero, contained traces of such bugs in their ice cubes.

Ice can get easily contaminated, either from water laced with fecal coliforms, or from bacteria getting on whatever utensil is scooping the ice if an employee doesn’t wash his or her hands. And the freezer actually preserves the bacteria, rather than killing it.

Your office is just as bad. Research shows that up to 90% of mugs in employee kitchens are coated with dangerous germs, and 20% of these same cups actually carry fecal matter, according to a study carried out by Charles Gerba, a professor of environmental microbiology at the University of Arizona.

Gerba found that the reason our mugs are saturated in all kinds of bad bacteria is due to the sponges in the communal kitchen which, when rarely replaced, become a host for germs that end up in our drinks.

Plus, an earlier report swabbed $1 bills circulating in NYC, and found more than 100 different strains of bacteria on the dirty money.

It gets worse.

The CDC reports that poop in public pools helped double outbreaks of the cryptosporidium parasite between 2014 and 2016, which is spread when people swallow water contaminated with diarrhea or feces. “It is not easily killed by chlorine and can survive up to 10 days in properly treated water,” the CDC warned.

The dumbbells in your gym are dirtier than your toilet seat. A 2016 study noted that free weights are crawling with 62 times more bacteria than public toilets, including gram-positive cocci that can result in skin infections and sepsis.

And before you press your smartphone against your face, consider this 2011 study that found one in six U.K. mobile phones is contaminated with fecal matter.

Oh, and your purse picks up crap when you place it on the floor between your feet on the subway or in a bathroom stall (use the hooks, ladies). “About a third of them have fecal bacteria on them,” Charles Gerba, a University of Arizona microbiologist, told the “Today” show.

So what’s going on? As Dr. Tierno noted, everyone poops, so everyone is a potential carrier of fecal bacteria. And fecal matter can survive for days or weeks on surfaces, depending on the type of bacteria, “so washing your hands is imperative - before you eat or drink anything, and before you touch your face.”

As for the contaminated screens, the Metro report suggests that disinfectant used to clean the screens may not be strong enough. And with the iced drinks in the BBC report, it’s possible the water being frozen into ice cubes was contaminated. Or perhaps fecal matter contaminated the ice machines, or utensils that dish out the ice.

But Dr. Ben Chapman, a food safety specialist and associate professor at North Carolina State University, told Moneyish that he was skeptical of the BBC report, because it didn’t identify which strains of bacteria were found, nor whether any of the pathogens were still alive.

“What this report is showing is that bacteria is there, not that it’s making anyone sick,” he assured. We’re exposed to bacteria all day, every day, and most of it doesn’t sicken us. “And in the specific cases [like E. coli] where it does make us sick, it’s thousands and thousands of bacteria from feces that cause illness,” he added. “Trace amounts of bacteria are not going to make you sick.”

You can protect yourself with basic hygiene, like washing your hands properly and often with soap and hot water, especially after leaving a bathroom and before touching your face.

Regularly wipe down your home surfaces, office surfaces, your phone and your bag with disinfectant, as well.

And make peace with the fact that poop is everywhere.

“If you look for feces, you’re gonna find it,” said Dr. Chapman. “In fact, it would be a bigger surprise to me if someone did a study looking for bacteria like this, and they didn’t find it.”

This story has previously published in 2017, and has been updated to include the new Metro report.

Related video: McDonald's Nixes Artificial Ingredients From Its Burgers [Food & Wine]

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Source: http://www.msn.com/en-us/health/medical/oh-crap-â-you-donât-wanna-know-what-was-found-on-mcdonaldâs-self-service-screens/ar-BBQcSlF?srcref=rss

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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