#Structural Rivets

[jobsnotices]

Foreign Job Opportunities in Zambia 2024

Foreign Job Opportunities in Zambia 2024. Solo Asia Recruitment Private Limited has published a demand notice for United Capital Fertilizer Zambia Company Limited for the following numbers and positions of workers. Interested and qualified Nepali citizens can contact Manpower office for interview at the address mentioned below. Foreign Job Opportunities in Zambia 2024 Company: United Capital…

[gudmould]

Summary of 19 plastic connection methods!

Plastics are widely used in daily chemical packaging, medical equipment, automobiles and in daily products. This article makes a brief introduction to these plastic connection technologies. Content is for reference of friends who are engaged in product structure design: 1 Adhesive connection Adhesive connection refers to technology of connecting surfaces of homogeneous or heterogeneous objects…

[wulfhalls]

watching shoguns beautiful meticulously crafted high wire act of depicting women navigating patriarchal power structures while balancing high concept political intriguing and riveting character based storytelling without bombarding its audience with dumbed down exposition and flat uninspired writing really brings home the point how much of that hotd isn't

[c1qfxugcgy0]

adventures in QA

(previous post in this series)

My shop in Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing (AMCW) at Large Aircraft Manufacturer (LAM) is at the very end of the composite fabrication building. Hundreds of people carefully lay up a hundred foot long slab of carbon fiber, cure it, paint it, and then we totally fuck it up with out of spec holes, scrapes, primer damage, etc. The people who write up our many defects are from the Quality Assurance (QA) department.

Every single screw and rivet on a LAM aircraft can be traced back to the mechanic who installed it. Back when even everything was done in pen and pencil, it was joked that the paper used to produce an aircraft outweighed the plane itself. Now that everything is computer-based, of course, the amount of paperwork is free to grow without limit.

(Haunting the factory is endless media coverage of an emergency exit door plug popping out of an Advanced Smallbody - Upengine (ASU) plane during a routine flight a few months ago. Unlike that airframe's notorious problems with MCAS, this was a straightforward paperwork screwup by a line worker: the bolts were supposed to be tightened, and they weren't.

As a result the higher ups have visited hideous tribulations on non-salaried workers. Endless webinars, structured trainings. Here at the Widebody plant we have received a steady flow of refugees from the Narrowbody factory, hair-raising tales of receiving one hundred percent supervision from the moment they clock in to the second they clock out from FAA inspectors who can recommend actual jail time for any lapse in judgement.)

A single hydraulic bracket Installation Plan (IP) is around four brackets. The team leads generally assign two bracket IPs per mechanic, since each bracket set is something like a foot apart, and while working on the plane is bad enough it's much worse to have another mechanic in your lap.

Let me list the order of operations:

One: Find where you're supposed to install these brackets. This is harder than you might think.

Firstly, it's a hundred foot long plank of carbon fiber composite, with longitudinal stringers bonded to it to add stiffness. The stringers are pilot drilled in the trim and drill center, a truly Brobdingnagian CNC mill that trims off the composite flash at the edges and locates and drills part holes for us. But there's a lot of holes, so you must carefully find your set.

A minor difficulty is that the engineering drawings are laid out with the leading edge pointing up, while the wing panels in our cells hang from the trailing edge. Not so bad, you just rotate the paper 180 when orienteering, then rotate it back up to read the printed labels.

A major difficulty is that the drawings are from the perspective from the outside of the panel. But we work on the inside of the wing (obviously, that's where all the parts are installed) so we also flip the drawings and squint through the back of the paper, to make things line up.

Large Aircraft Manufacturer has a market cap of US$110 billion, and we're walking around the wing jig with sheets of paper rotated 180 and flipped turnways trying to find where to put brackets.

Oh well, we're paid by the hour.

Two: Match drill the aluminum brackets to the carbon fiber composite stringer. I can devote an entire post to the subtleties of drilling carbon fiber, but I can already tell that this post is going to be a miserable slog, so I will merrily skip over this step.

Three: Vacuum up all the carbon dust and aluminum swarf created during this process. This step is not optional, as your team lead will remind you, his screaming mouth clouding your safety glasses with spittle at a distance of four inches. LAM is very serious about FOD. Every jet airliner you've ever ridden in is a wet wing design-- each interstitial space is filled with Jet A. There is no fuel bladder or liner-- the fuel washes right over plane structure and wing hardware. Any dirt we leave behind will merrily float into the fuel and be sucked right into the engines, where it can cause millions in damage. No place for metal shavings!

If you are nervous about flying, avoid considering that all the hydraulic lines and engine control cables dip into a lake of a kerosene on their way from the flight deck to the important machines they command. Especially do not consider that we're paid about as much per hour as a McDonalds fry cook to install flight-critical aviation components.

Four: Neatly lay out your brackets on your cart, fight for a position at a Shared Production Workstation (SPW) (of which we have a total of four (4) for a crew of thirty (30) mechanics) and mark your IP for QA inspection as Ready To Apply Seal.

Four: Twiddle your thumbs. Similarly, we have three QA people for thirty mechanics. This is not enough QA people, as I will make enormously clear in the following steps.

Five: Continue waiting. Remember, you must not do anything until a QA person shows up and checks the box. Skipping a QA step is a “process failure” and a disciplinary offense. From the outside, you can observe the numerous QA whistleblowers and say “golly, why would a mechanic ever cut a corner and ignore QA?” Well...

Six: QA shows up. Theoretically, they could choose to pick up the mahrmax you prepared for them and gauge every single hole you've drilled. But since we're three hours into the shift and they're already twenty jobs behind, they just flick their flashlight across the panel and say “looks good" and then sprint away. Can't imagine why our planes keep falling out of the sky.

Seven: Apply the seal to the bracket. P/S 890 is a thick dark gray goop that adheres well to aluminum, carbon fiber, fabric, hair and skin. Once cured, it is completely immune to any chemical attack short of piranha solution, so if you get any on yourself you had better notice quick, otherwise it'll be with you as long as the layer of epidermis it's bonded to. LAM employees who work with fuel tank sealant very quickly get out of the habit of running their hands through their hair.

Eight: Now you wait again. Ha ha, you dumb asshole, you thought you were done with QA? No no, now you put up the job for QA inspection of how well you put the seal on the bracket. Twiddle your thumbs, but now with some urgency. The minute you took the bottle of seal out of the freezer, you started the clock on its "squeeze-out life." For this type of seal, on this job, it's 120 minutes. If QA doesn't get to you before that time expires, you remove your ticket, wipe off the seal, take another bottle out the freezer, and apply a fresh layer.

Nine: Optimistically, QA shows up in time and signs off on the seal. Well, you're 100 minutes into your 120 minute timer. Quickly, you slap the brackets onto the stringer, air hammer the sleeve bolts into position, thread nuts onto the bolts, then torque them down. Shove through the crowd and mark your IP "ready to inspect squeeze out"

Ten: Let out a long breath and relax. All the time sensitive parts are over. The criteria here is "visible and continuous" squeeze out all along the perimeter of the bracket and the fasteners. It is hard to screw this up, just glop on a wild excess of seal before installing it. If you do fail squeezeout, though, the only remedy is to take everything off, throw away the single-use distorted thread locknuts, clean everything up and try again tomorrow.

Eleven: QA approved squeeze out? Break's over, now we're in a hurry again. By now there's probably only an hour or two left in the shift, and your job now is to clean off all that squeeze out. Here's where you curse your past self for glopping on too much seal. You want to get it off ASAP because if you leave it alone or if it's too late in the shift and your manager does feel like approving overtime it'll cure to a rock hard condition overnight and you'll go through hell chipping it off the next day. You'll go through a hundred or so qtips soaked in MPK cleaning up the bracket and every surface of the panel within three feet.

Twelve: Put it up for final inspection. Put away all your tools. (The large communal toolboxes are lined with kaizen foam precisely cut out to hold each individual tool, which makes it obvious if any tool is missing. When you take a tool out, you stick a tool chit with your name and LAMID printed on it in its place. Lose a tool? Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye, pal, because the default assumption is that a lost screwdriver is lurking in a hollow "hat" stringer, waiting to float out and damage some critical component years after the airplane is delivered.)

One tool you'll leave on your cart, however, is the pin protrusion gage. There is a minimum amount of thread that must poke outside of the permanent straight shank fastener's (Hi-Lok) nut, to indicate that the nut is fully engaged. That makes sense. But there's also a maximum protrusion. Why?

Well, it's an airplane. Ounces make pounds. An extra quarter inch of stickout across a thousand fasteners across a 30 year service life means tons of additional fuel burnt. So you can't use a fastener that's too long, because it adds weight.

On aluminum parts, it's hard to mess up. But any given composite part is laid up from many layers of carbon fiber tape. The engineers seemed to have assumed that dimensional variation would be normally distributed. But, unfortunately, we buy miles of carbon fiber at a time, and the size only very gradually changes between lots. When entire batches are several microns oversize, and you're laying up parts from fifty plies and an inch thick, you can have considerable variation of thickness on any given structural component. So you had better hope you had test fit all of your fasteners ahead of time, or else you'll be real sorry!

And, if you're really lucky, QA will show up five minutes before end of shift, pronounce everything within tolerance, then fuck off.

And that's how it takes eight hours to install eight brackets.

[pursuitseternal]

“Bites in the Night:” a series of Astarion x Reader drabbles from the days on the road…

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Part 1: “Go back to sleep, darling…”

Astarion x Fem!Reader | M | 1.4K of Romance

Summary: you’ve been fed on before, but you cannot deny how much you are the one who now hungers for it…

CW: consensual biting, blood kink, flirtation, a bit… angsty? First kiss

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No more bites in the night, he had promised. True to his word, Astarion always waited for your invitation now. Just a little offer thrown his way with increasing frequency. You can feed on me tonight.

You can’t help it, how addicting it is, waking with just that little ache in your body, watching the way he smiles at you, knowingly, as you sit and eat whatever breakfast your other companions had thrown together. It makes a pool of heat settle in your belly, as if you are the one now full to bursting and yet not sated. As if you are the one cursed with eternal hunger.

He always fights so beautifully those days after he drinks of your blood, almost dancing as he pounces and stalks and rips out throats like the true predator he is. You can almost feel it after, however, the expenditure of the limited power you grant him each time he feeds.

Soon, those ashen pools would settle beneath his eyes again, his movements slowing the longer into the day you journey.

The same happens today, that lethargy visible as the sun begins to set. So tonight, as you make camp, you find a reason to hesitate by Astarion’s tent. He is busy setting up the colored canvas of his structure. You see his hands are shaking as he bends down to tie and fasten the tether to the stake in the ground.

“I’m… gathering firewood,” you stop shy of his crouching body.

His head snaps as he looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “And?” he snips. Perhaps the efforts he expended today took a greater toll on him that the grey in his skin even tells you. He sneers, clearly exasperated and annoyed. “I’m busy if you’re asking for my commonly-sought-for and usually riveting company.”

“No,” you force a easy laugh. “No I’m capable on my own, thank you.”

That earns another, deeper furrow of his brows, his fist clutching around the handle of his hammer now. “Then what do you want?” he purrs.

“You… didn’t happen to notice if there was anything that looked promising on the way here?”

Standing slowly, his face quirks into that familiar smirk, those brows now canting as he looks down at you. Crimson eyes flicker over your face, finally resting on the lingering marks of his fangs from last night. “Oh, I never stray my gaze far from the most promising things, but as for firewood? No.” He cocks his head, eyes heavy lidded as he scans your whole form now. “No, I was perhaps too… distracted to search my surroundings for something so mundane.”

You shrug. “Nevermind then,” you toss casually, ignoring the way your heart is rapping against your ribs.

“I… don’t think you wish me to nevermind,” he comments with equal indifference. Even as he slides one step into your path. “What did you really wish to say, darling?”

The words bubble from your throat before you can make them seem dispassionate. “You can feed on me tonight.”

His smirk tweaks just a hint higher. “I was hoping you would offer, darling…” He leans back, as if he is out of your way. “See you tonight, even if you won’t see me, my sweet.” You push past him, your hand accidentally brushing past his own arm, the chill of his body sending a little shiver through your frame. “Good luck,” he purrs as you enter into the brush and trees at the edge of camp.

Your evening passes with little event. Your pulse never slows, even as you lay in your bedroll, the soft crackle of fire unsuccessful at lulling you into any sleep deeper than a soft breathing with sweat-covered thoughts that grip your mind and body. Not dreams. No, you lay on your side in semi-consciousness, facing towards the dying embers of the fire. That’s how you hear the almost imperceptible tread of a foot in the dirt.

It’s slight, just a soft rustle and a gentle scuttle in the dirt beside you. But then you feel his breath, cold on your neck. Easily mistaken for a night breeze, except you have waited to feel it all night.

For a man who drips with sex, his very voice meant to make you tremble with need, he does not creep too close. His hand rests on your shoulder with uncertainty. The other gently sweeps back the stray strands of your hair from your neck.

His touch is reserved, hesitant, only brushing your body where necessary. Beneath that shell of seduction, you feel the self-doubt, the nerves worn to a shred from 200 years of abuse. And for as much as you long to turn and wrap your arms around him and his suffering soul, you fight the urge. You shut your eyes tighter, counting the second of your every inhale and exhale to make them sound sleepy.

Then comes his bite. That delicious puncture of your skin that hurts for a second, quickly tenderly cared for with soft laps of his tongue as he drinks from you. You try not to twitch, try not to lean your body against him as he crouches. He must think himself so stealthy, and you wouldn’t want to take that from your rogue.

All too soon he withdraws, but you feel the mass of his body lingering. You can almost hear his head twist as he observes you. “Go back to sleep, darling,” he whispers. “I hope it was as good for you as it was for me…”

“How…?” you begin, shifting in your bed to look up at him. His hair luminous in the starlight, his skin as pale as the moon.

That smirk only widens, a trickle of your blood runs from the elevated corner of his lips. “Please,” he gives a little chuckle, bending down to whisper right into the curves of your ear, “two-hundred years, and I know the dance of a sleeping heart… and the beat of one who just can’t get enough of me being so near them.”

You turn your head, looking right into those crimson eyes, now glowing a bit with his renewed strength.

“Next time you wish to do this again awake, you have but to ask, darling…” his lips purse as he finishes his words. But you notice that ripple of hesitation again. “I’m eager for any and all your suggestions, my dear.”

Now you hesitate, your eyes flicker between the way his long, dexterous fingers rest on his bent knee to the way his lips still are stained with your blood. You breathe, “Will you…” You swallow, unable to get the last words from your dry throat.

“Yes?” he encourages you, his voice barely more than a rasp.

“Will you… kiss me?” You feel your stomach drop in horror at your boldness.

But your daring earns you a smile that flashes his brilliant white teeth at you. “I thought you would never ask, darling…” he purrs, lowering his mouth once more. It is quick, well, quicker than you would like. His lips press softly on yours, the coppery taste of your blood touching your tongue. He begins to withdraw, but you aren’t done, your heart races again. Your hand flies into his silver hair, holding gently at the base of his neck, trying to hang on for one more moment. You feel his muscles soften, relaxing as he feels your want. That you invite him closer. His own hand moves similarly, tenderly lifting your chin, his lips beginning to move almost imperceptibly between yours.

You taste yourself more on his mouth, the slow languorous way he works into yours, sharing that flavor bit by bit.

Until he pulls back. You let him. Careful not to push, or tug him. Not to break his trust, for as much as he begs you for yours.

“So much for no more bites in the night,” he laughs quietly. “I… do like that, you know. It is ever so much more fun when you are awake.”

You say nothing. No coherent words can form on your tongue or in your mind. So instead you nod, you smile, your hand trying to grab the twisted blanket to fit back around you.

But his pale hands reach for it first. “Go back to sleep, darling,” he repeats, quieter than before as he pulls the woolen wrap to cover your body.

You feel sleep tugging you under at last, the soft throb of your neck almost as sweet as the ghost of his kiss on your lips.

And as you close your eyes, you breathe, almost feeling that powerful, glowing gaze watching you from his tent. Watching over you until the light of dawn.

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My other Astarion x Reader fics:

“The Rogue You Were:” part 1–Welcome me (NSFW)

“The Rogue You Were:” part 2-Cleanse me (NSFW)

“Just A Drop:” drabble as he turns Tav

[mustainegf]

Rtl James with Somnophilia i beg but can the reader and james be friends before he gets 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

I WAS UNSURE HOW TO STRUCTURE THIS ONE I HOPE IT’S GOOD!!

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 ¹⁹⁸⁴

I listen with a soft smile as my best friend James reveals his rather… interesting wish. "You want to do what?" I ask him, not wanting to stopping accusing. "Sex…while I'm asleep?" My fingers drum against my thigh nervously and a small chuckle escapes my lips at the absurdity of this request.

He nods with his piercing blue eyes riveted on mine, and there is something within that makes me tingle from the inside.

"Um… yeah," he nods in his deep voice resounding in the sleep bedroom. "But only if you're uh.. cool with it." His words just hang in the air for me to respond.

I hold my silence for a moment, considering this very unusual proposition. Something about giving up control during such an intimate act excites and unsettles me. "Okay, I’ll try," I finally agree, a little excitedly.

I get up and go over to my closet, where I pull out a plain white T shirt. I hold it up for James to see. "So long as I have this shirt on when I go to sleep, you can do what you want," I say, very smirky, and I hand him the shirt. "Deal?"

James takes the shirt, his fingers brushing against mine. Gravely, he nods his head, sealing our bargain.

"Deal," he repeats again, handing the shirt back. "Now let's get ready for bed."

There's a kind of anticipation in the room, a feeling that neither of us needs to comment on as we get ready for sleep. Slipping into some comfortable pajama pants, then the exact white shirt, I then slide under the covers, l vulnerable and yet strangely excited about what might go on when I fall asleep.

I lie beside James in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to clear my head so that I can fall asleep quickly. Every time I shut my eyes, though, James' burning gaze is all that plays in my mind and the idea of pleasure lurking.

Finally, sleep prevails, and I drift off, not knowing how deep my body would be taken in a few hours.

The next morning, I woke refreshed but a little groggy. I haven’t woke up feeling this good in a long time. As last night's memories revolve through my head, a warm blush explodes up my cheeks. I glance sideways to James, still asleep beside me. I try to think of exactly what happened during those hours when only one of us was conscious.

Of course, I remember what we agreed on last night, however, I must be a heavy sleeper, because I can’t recall a thing of what he may have done in those wee hours or the night. I stretch out my hand and press his chest lightly. I feel its rise ad I snuggle up to him.

James stirs softly at my touch, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal those pretty blue eyes staring back at me. He smiles slowly as he leans in closer, his hand finding its way onto my hip.

“Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, pressing his forehead onto mine. "How did ya sleep?" There's something lurking in his eye, something that says, I remember everything.

I bite my lower lip, still acting coy despite flames in my center from his closeness. "Pretty well, thanks to your… interesting suggestions," I giggle, matching his words with a wink as my fingers drew circles on his chest.

"Though I really don't remember much beyond falling asleep." My voice had fell to a whisper. "Care to fill in the gaps for me?"

James does that low, throaty chuckle that always made me shy, then takes my mouth with his slowly. His tongue licks around the inside of my mouth, leaving no doubt just how serious he is about to get.

"Oh, baby, I'd love to tell you everything," he whispers against my lips as his free hand slides under my shirt. "But maybe we should start with a little replay, huh?"

[saurongorthaur9]

Right now, I'm decently sure that Galadriel is somehow going to succumb to Sauron's temptation at the end of Season 2.

I've been listening to the Season 2 track on repeat for pretty much the last 24 hours (and loving it) and the Last Temptation track has me thinking thoughts.

First, we know that there is going to be a confrontation between Galadriel and Sauron in the S2 finale, and Charlie has indicated in interviews that Sauron still thinks he can win Galadriel over and he hasn't given up on pitching his King and Queen idea to her. So, there's definitely going to be some sort of Temptation 2.0.

Second, I think whatever Galadriel is going to face is going to be ten times harder for her to resist than the S1 finale. I think this for two reasons. Firstly, in S1, Galadriel in a way had surprise and rage on her side. The fresh feeling of betrayal, the horror of the realization of what she's done, and her long-festering pure hatred for Sauron were all present and, in a way, I think made it easier for her to turn him down in the moment (though I still think she was tempted). This season however, she's going to have the entire season to marinate in all her feelings and the memories of how Halbrand made her feel seen and appreciated and her connection with him. She's going to have the whole season to miss it (and him) and yearn for it (and him).

The other reason is that Sauron will have more time to prepare to make his pitch Even Better. It's very obvious that he had already been planning his S1 finale pitch to her as Halbrand, but I think she figured him out sooner than he'd planned, and while he went along with it, he wasn't as prepared as he could have been. This time, however, he's going to have more time to prepare and he's seen what DIDN'T work already, so he can try a pitch that is more crafted to Galadriel's weaknesses. We also know there is going to be something going on all season with their psychic connection, so he's also had all season to play with her mind before their final confrontation assumedly.

So, from a character and plot standpoint, I think Galadriel is going to face something a lot harder for her to resist.

Now, from a narrative standpoint, I think it makes a ton of sense for the plot and for Galadriel's character arc and the structure of a TV show for Galadriel to succumb to Sauron's temptation (though I'm not sure what that will look like).

If they do go that route, I'm sure it's something all the lore purists will froth and foam over, but it just makes so much sense for the story that ROP is telling, particularly with Galadriel. From a storytelling perspective, it doesn't make sense to show a replay of the scene from the S1 finale. We've already seen her resist him, so it makes sense that if we get a similar scene in this season, it'll have a different outcome that shows us new aspects of the characters.

They've told us that Galadriel and Sauron's relationship and connection will remain central to the entire show for all five seasons. If that's the case, it wouldn't make sense for them to place the highest note of their relationship at the end of S1 and to merely show Galadriel rejecting him in various ways throughout the rest of the series. There's the challenge of finding new ways to explore different aspects of the characters, and having Galadriel resist in S1 only to succumb in S2 and then come back from it in S3-5 would be very narratively pleasing. Static characters aren't interesting to watch, especially over the course of a TV series, while characters who have rises and falls are much more riveting. Now, I do think there are other ways they could accomplish it, but having Galadriel fall would be a big, big way to do it.

They've also been pitching S2 as "the villain season." It's about the villains and about the darkness in each of the characters. We're going to be watching the fall of Celebrimbor and the fall of Eregion at the very least. We are most likely going to start seeing the fall of Numenor and Khazad-dum as well. It would be deeply thematically satisfying for the season to end on the note of our main heroine also falling and succumbing to the darkness that we've been watching creep over and consume everything else in Middle-earth.

Finally, it makes sense for the story they seem to be telling with Galadriel. We're seeing her growth from an ambitious, revenge-driven, impetuous warrior to become the wise, powerful, but also kinda scary elf sorceress and queen from LOTR. Given that arc and the darkness we've already gotten hints about in Galadriel, it makes sense for her arc for her to get a tiny taste of what falling would mean for both her and for everyone she loves. I could absolutely see her succumbing to her own darkness and accepting Sauron's temptation only to see the ramifications and pull away as a wiser person who carries the grief and burden of knowing what darkness does to her. I could see it fitting with that intangible grief and pain that Galadriel seems to carry in LOTR. And I think a part of her could like how she feels after succumbing to Sauron, and that feeling is something she would carry on, even after she ultimately rejects her darkness and Sauron. It would fit well with that incredible yearning and desire that we see in Galadriel when Frodo offers her the Ring years and years later, because she knows how good it feels, but ultimately she also knows the ruin it would bring because she's seen a glimpse of it.

Anyway, I'm prepared to be wrong, but right now, I'm really thinking this is the direction Season 2 is going to go (and maybe hoping just a little because it would be horrifying and gut-wrenching and amazing and awesome).

[blueiscoool]

Viking Silver Bracelet Hoard Found in Norway

Archaeologists have unearthed a set of uniquely decorated bracelets on the site of a "large and powerful" Viking Age farm.

Archaeologists in Norway have discovered a Viking Age treasure that had remained "untouched" for more than 1,000 years.

The four silver bracelets had been buried nearly 8 inches (20 centimeters) in the ground on a mountainside in Årdal, a village in southwestern Norway, according to a translated statement from the University of Stavanger.

"This is definitely the biggest thing I have experienced in my career," Volker Demuth, an archaeologist and project manager at the Archaeological Museum at the University of Stavanger, said in the statement.

Archaeologists found the bracelets ahead of construction of a new tractor road.

Further exploration revealed that the location once housed a "large and powerful" Viking Age (A.D. 793 to 1066) farm comprising multiple houses for people and animals, according to the statement. The researchers found the buried bracelets within one of the smaller structures, which likely housed enslaved individuals.

In addition to the jewelry, researchers discovered an array of artifacts, including soapstone pots, rivets, knife blades and whetstones for sharpening tools. There's also evidence that the farm had been burned down, which "coincides with a period of great unrest in the Viking Age," according to the statement.

"If people who lived on this farm had to flee from an attack, it would be natural to hide away the valuables you had before escaping to the mountains," Demuth said. "And perhaps in a place where you would not have thought that a treasure was hidden."

By Jennifer Nalewicki.

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[denim-devil]

Rage | Robber!Frank Castle x Male!R

Summary - The burley “punisher” known for his menacing presence and crimes happened to stumble by your home…

A/N - A simple thought that became something more then it should of, although this has been sat in my drafts for weeks now, I just decided to leave it open, maybe a PT 2 if yall are interested idk…

The night was young.

You sigh, scribbling down notes, anything that came to mind to help with the current case “Murdock and Nelson” was handling.

A series of break-in’s littered the papers of Hell’s kitchen, the bastard had managed to wriggle himself from the grips of the N.Y.P.D, stalking the shadows of the night for his next victim.

Flopping back into your chair, the cushions helped relieve the strain between your shoulder blades from standing a while, bending over the desk that currently wasn’t visible, messy crumbled up balls of paper and yellow documents detailing the certain aspects fitting the onslaught of crime covering the varnished service.

The cool breeze of the city left you shivering and alone reminding you that the law firm you happened to call home for past couple of months was your intake of madness and the decent into a spiralling well of secludedness, you hadn’t had the time to truly enjoy the character Hell’s Kitchen was and will remain.

Once clasping the window shut, you stand, rubbing at your eyes, the tiredness that stuck to them like honey grew thick yet withstand-able, it was if the city was listening, creeping and sauntering, figuring you out, a loud clunk echo’s through your apartment, ringing from wall to wall.

You had guessed it was the stormy weather outside but curiosity killed the cat…didn’t it?

“Fuck-“

Ushering out profanities was your way of coping, taking course of a few steps, gradually making your way to the wooden frame of the door consoling the running thoughts swirling around in your fuzzy brain, you still before turning the bitter-cold handle.

It wasn’t a shock, it almost felt real, more then anything you had witnessed over the past coming months, there he stood, a tall burley man, broad shoulders and toned physique, dressed in all black and a ski mask to cover his identity.

Silence fell over the room but his confidence stood proud, his muscular arms falling to his side underneath the dim light the outside street lamps provided.

“I don’t want any trouble sir-“

You tremble at the thought of becoming his next victim, although he hadn’t killed, the offer still loomed over you like his figure. It wasn’t immediate but you had guessed something within him flicked like a light switch, he placed the bag he managed to fill with stolen goods, your goods, on the floor with the same clunk from before, moving himself closer until he began to invade your space.

“What…do-“

With the incapacity to speak, you stumble back into the wall, his brown hazel’s staring deeply, trying to figure you out. He huffed before licking at his dry lips, closing in on you like an animal with it’s prey, trapping you from a potential exit.

At first he huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf, eyes twitching and lips still, as intimidating as he was, curiosity did infact kill the cat. You waited, keeping your eyes trained on his own, watching for anything.

“You’re a little to curious for your own good”

His voice was low and growly like the worn-down roads of New York City, a shiver ran down the edge of your spine, tingly yet comforting, almost riveting. Although you had no plan of escape nor defense, you melt into the wall keeping you up right, he eyed you up, almost checking to see if you fit the checkbox he had granted himself.

“Are you saying…I gotta be careful from now on?”

You question, hands glued by your sides whilst his block you against the structure of the room. This wasn’t how you expected it to go nor is it how you expected him to be, in ways he seemed softer, almost sweet like your favourite candy dissolving on the tip of your tongue.

He nods confidently, quicker then you would have liked. You can’t help the shakes the ran through your body like a tumble dryer and clothes, eager to figure out what it was that he so desired from you but also to terrified to even speak another word.

“There’s a bad guy out there, he could hurt you, y’know?”

Was it a threat? Or was he simply taking his time? His voice had managed to make you calmer, although being the aggressor, you couldn’t help but reach out, placing a hand on his hard chest, trying anything to communicate.

“Please- please I don’t want this, I-“

Worrisome pleas seemed to do nothing as he stood, still blocking you. The glint in his eyes had changed from dangerous to lustrous within seconds as if he wasn’t here to steal anything but your innocence.

“Don’t you think you could learn a lesson or two?”

A warm hand cups the base of your throat, tightening until your breathing was short-circuited, restricting each intake until you faced him, watching as he tugged a smile onto his plump lips.

Pressing forward, you allow your hand to drop from his chest, his overwhelming presence shifting until his warm breath began to fan against the shell of your ear.

“Never disturb a man whilst he’s at work…”

He presses more firmly with his hand this time making you gasp, choking on the air that seemed to be invading the small space in your lungs. He chuckles before pulling away, essentially playing with his meat, doing everything and anything in his power to make you dumb and nonchalant.

“I- please”

Your ache prolonged, blossoming as you grew harder, he was tall, practically looming over you, closing in and eventually overshadowing you from the light, his burly body blocking you in. A single hand of his cup at one your cheeks, his thumb trailing against your bottom lip in attempts to quieten you.

“God your sweet ain’t ya…”

His mouth was vulgar, his smile stretching as you accept the thumb into your mouth, tongue rolling against the thick digit. Frank could feel himself twitch, it was unusual for his nightly escapades to go like this, it was uncommon for someone to be so inviting, non the less he was entirely enticed by the whole ordeal.

You groan once he pushes deeper, jabbing the palette of your throat causing you gag, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He couldn’t deny how pretty you were like this which pushed him to pull his now slick digit back with a pop.

Frank doesn’t fight the urge to dip his head low enough to connect your lips, locking you within a searing kiss, one that left you both hungry for more. His tongue, long and wet, rolled smoothly against your own, the material of his disguise rubbing against your upper lip and the tip of your nose, giving enough friction to calm the storm.

It’s chaste and sweet much like he was trying to seduce you which had worked a little to well considering how dumb and weak you had gotten from one touch, one look.

Pulling away with a quick press of his lips, he looks hungrily downward, lips slightly red and lick from the sloppy snog. Still leaning one muscular arm against the wall just to the right above your head, he leans further into you, pressing all of his weight against your front.

That’s when you had felt it, thick and plump underneath his black cargo’s, he settled against your own slowly growing bulge, the continuous roll of his hips relieving the ache as you sigh, practically falling into his chest.

“Just one touch and yer’ dumb for me, for it, come on, show me what i’m missin’ sweetheart”

His hands wrap around your waist once he pulls away, just enough to softly throw you onto the sheets of your bed, his talented hands make quick work of your night shorts and boxers, his eagerness prevailing once they fall into a pool on the carpet.

You hiss when the cold air hits your now oversensitive tip which dripped copious amounts of pre, Frank noticed with a deep chuckle, strong hands pushing up your legs with no resistance as he settles on his knees, hot breath fanning against the back of your thighs.

He takes note of your pale pink hole, salivating at the thought of finally planting his face between the two pert globes you had offered up.

“There he is- fuck look at that”

He wouldn’t ever admit just how hard you had got him, you we’re pretty, a little to pretty, maybe ditzy and a little stupid for letting someone as dangerous as him touch you in ways that had you clutching at the sheets.

“Sir- I can’t, need you-“

Is all you could mutter passed pressed lips, it had been so long, to long since the last time you had gotten intimate with someone, this one took the cake, it was all kinds of strange, only taking note of features shown, the way his eyes had changed to a dark shade of lust, how his lips softly pressed dirty chaste kisses to the skin of your under thighs…why was this happening, you were suppose to help catch the bastard, not fall into bed with him.

“Say that again- wanna hear yer’ beg”

Each kiss led lower until he settled just above your hole, pressing two rough, sloppy kisses to the puckered skin surrounding it, he wanted to hear just how eager you were to finally have him, to finally allow him to dissect you like a butterfly, clip the wings and make you his own.

“Please- I need you, anything-“

He tuts before chuckling one more, the huff of hot breath settling over the coolness of your hole, without any thought, you sink back into the sheets before reaching for the top of his head, with a surge of confidence, you smush his face between your cheeks as he spreads them, feeling him smirk against you was everything, but the long lap, from balls, taint to hole was much more.

He had witnessed the case file you had on him, guessed you were some sort of lawyer working for murdock, it just fuelled his fire, his urge to take control, make you forget, make you understand that he is the man you should fear, but the man you should come running to, it had his dick jump with joy, you were easy but he liked that.

He lapped and lathed at your hole dirtily like some pornstar, eager to uncover the very thing he craved. You could feel the once more slobber roll down from his tongue to your balls, dripping onto the carpet below, shivering in his hold, you begin to push back, wiggling against his face as he noses at your wet clutch.

The tips of two fingers were present, pushing into you alongside his tongue like butter, no resistance, just pure admiration and pleasure, allowing the stranger to ruin your hole, lavish licks and darts of his tongue had you quivering around the intrusion, his fingers smashing in and outwards, scissoring them apart to prepare you for the oncoming assault.

“So easy, just wanna be used? Yer’ that hungry for me? yer’ been stalking me for months and here I am…using yer’ like a damn whore…what would Murdock and Co. think of yer’ spread out and whining for the biggest criminal in Hell’s Kitchen?”

You whimpered at the thought, almost driving you over the edge. He was vulgar and dirty with his words and his tone, deep and low, almost making you dizzy along side the third digit slipping inside, burying themselves to the knuckle making your cock jump.

He smirks against your hole before giving it a few final laps. He pulls them away, standing to glare down at your fucked out features.

“Somethin’ tells me yer’ like the sound of that hmm?”

You watch attentively as his fingers work to unclasp his belt, whipping it off. He unfastens the button, watching as his cargo’s pool around his ankles before kicking them off along with his boxers.

His cock slaps up into his abdomen with a sharp thud. You glare at it, taking it in, judging it harshly. He was big, big enough to leave an impression, he was girthy and long, thick from base to tip, his head an angry shade of red, his balls resting heavily between his thighs, the light shedding of hair framing the beauty.

“Don’t think yer’ gettin’ outta this boy, yer’ gonna take it like the pretty little thing yer’ are”

Peeling off his long sleeved t-shirt, you glaze amongst the muscles that bulged, his physique was godly, heavenly, everything that had your body spreading automatically to give him the space to slot between your legs, kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“Fuck- you look-“

Your words were slight encouragement to Frank as he dipped, still the Ski-mask stayed, secreting his identy, you could still kiss him, sloppy and rough. Whining into the kiss notified Frank of your eagerness, so much so, without warning he pressed the spongy head of his cock against your rim, practically asking for permission.

Breaking the kiss had you back to reality, but it was to late, you mumbled a sharp “yes” allowing him to enter, pushing into your sloppy, slick hole with resistance. You both moan in unison as Frank pushes the air out of your lungs, pushing each inch inward until he sheathed himself fully, now resting against you.

“Atta boy, all the way in with no complanin’, yer’ such a pretty boy ain’t yer’, taking me in all the way like a professional-“

You flutter against him as his arms throw your legs up, pushing them against your stomach giving him enough space to settle just above you, his lips kissing at your jaw, nibbling on the skin as he pulls out, pushing back in slowly to allow you to adjust.

How were you going to explain the current set of events to the law firm and two of the closest men to you, Matthew Murdock and Foggy Nelson, the intimacy of your thoughts only lead you to believe that this would put you at risk…of wanting more.

[silhouette-cosplay]

I’ve been doing rivets and buckles today! The majority of the rivet placements in this design don’t actually make structural sense, but that’s okay—they still look cool!

Likewise, the buckles/straps are not reeeeally functional as designed, but I’m gonna make it work with some secrety magnets. 😜 For the buckles, I took some regular shoe buckles and sculpted some clay on top, molded that in silicone mold putty, and then cast in thibra and pressed the buckle into the thibra while it was still warm and squishy! It worked out surprisingly well!

[absolutebl]

Hii do you have any recommendations for bl that’s similar to Bad Buddy, My School President, and Semantic Error? Idk I’m looking for something fluffy, but with some angst for flavor (also potentially school setting but it doesn’t have to be). Anyways thank you so much!! 💟💟

10 Fluffy Yet Angsty BLs + School Setting (By Request Rec List)

Examples: Bad Buddy, My School President, Semantic Error

Interesting selection. I added the "school setting" to keep me tailored down. Let's see what we got.

You'll never guess how we are gonna start...

Did ya guess?

Seven Days

Japan 2015 - grey

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

I Cannot Reach You

AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai

Japan 2023 - Netflix

This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen. Full review.

Light On Me

Korea 2021 Viki

Korea does an elegant pastiche of traditional live action yaoi but all tropes are cleverly deployed to bolster one of the most riveting love triangles ever put on screen… and I don’t like love triangles. LoM strategically tailors classic BL tropes to 2 different semes resulting in pristine pacing, plot, and character development, explicitly serving narrative (not just to tick boxes). LoM is a master class in this trope drops. (If you write fanfic or romance you should study this show.) Full review.

Cherry Blossoms After Winter

Korea 2022 Viki

Korea took on early Japanese sweet yaoi but gave it their signature softness and precise production with a STUNNING color palette (beautiful pastels, sun-saturated over-exposure), manga framg style, some traditional BL character archetypes, that tiny edge of bullying roughness and out-of-control seme, plus FINALLY a palatable take on the stepbrothers trope and it was, in a word, classic. Sophisticated and understated CBAW is not slow, it’s just subtle. It's dream-like and atmospheric, as if the whole thing took place under cold water on a warm spring day. Is there plot or peril? Not really. Do we care? Also, not really. Look, I can’t help it, I’m old school and so is this show. I grew up reading sweet yaoi, and this was THAT YAOI just on my screen. There’s no objectivity with me and this show. It’s a beautiful pastiche and I loved it for how it made me feel and what it remded me of. It’s not flawless, but it is a wonderful experience. Full review.

Takara-kun and Amagi-kun

Japan 2022 Gaga and Viki

I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this show. Reserved cool kid who must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charmg: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning. Was there plot? Not really. Was it emotionally tense and paced well enough for me not to notice? Absolutely. Did I enjoy the hell out of it? Oh yes. Full review.

Blueming

Korea 2022 - iQIYI

It’s a tiny bit dark and a tiny bit bittersweet, almost too honest to a university experience and first love for BL, but if you want your md ever-so-slightly messed with and your intimacy hellishly sweet, this BL will do it for you in a coldly distant manner, while bitch slapping you with self worth issues. I wasn’t into it at first, but the leads are solid and by ep 5 it got really good, becomg a narrative about self discovery meets understanding and accepting others people’s flaws without hurting them. Ultimately we witnessed two characters maturing because of each other and their mutual affection, without that affection becomg the conflict point. Instead, tension was built around other aspects of identity, popularity, and self-worth. While production values were a touch lower than usual for Korea, Bluemg included decent kisses and other forms of intimacy and a satisfying ending plus there’s judicious and very elegant use of tropes, this is a great BL. Full review.

About Youth

Taiwan 2022 - Gaga

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweet and colored by real world authenticity and grit. Full review.

My Love Mix Up

AKA Kieta Hatsukoi

Japan 2021 - Viki

Completely adorable absolute chaos bi disaster muffin falls accidentally and utterly in love with his classmate, hijinx and friendship result. What’s great about this BL is that it deals with things like homophobia, asexuality, and one sided affection in an extremely gentle and palatable way. Perhaps sometimes too subtle, but I believe this is a great show for younger audiences, particularly if you want to spark conversations about identity, sexuality, authority, truthfulness, and consent. Oh and it’s funny.

The Eclipse

Thai 2022 - YouTube

GMMTV does gay Blacklist with a good boy/bad boy pairing. This is a good show but the cast is excellent and the leads are absolutely flawless, which elevates it beyond just good. We got a nuanced and multifaceted burgeoning relationship: philosophical (and socio-political) conflict contrasted to moments of empathy; flirtation contrasted to moments of genuine affection, plus plenty of angst. This narrative is less about love than it is about courage and tenderness. However, near the end the pacing was off and the plot frustrating. Still, this is an enjoyable watch, with a finale that features verbal consent and a fun blooper reel.

Destiny Seeker

Thai 2023 - WeTV

Frankly this probubly ranks along side most of hte runners up, but it's chronically under watched so I wanted to give it a special shout out.

A darn near perfect pulp featuring 3 likable grumpy/sunshine pairings with uncomplicated iterations of enemies to lovers. At least one half of each does a decent amount of pining and there’s good chemistry, classic tropes, and communication rep. It’s fun and full of linguistic jokes. Sublimely cheesy but a good rainy day offering with tons of rewatch potential. Full review.

Honorable mention

These satisfy your criteria but I jsut personally like the above 10 better. And you did ask me, still OPTIONS!

2gether & Still 2gether

A Breeze of Love

Between Us

Dark Blue Kiss (+ Kiss Me Again - PeteKao Cut)

Hidden Agenda

Love By Chance

Love Class

Love Class 2

SOTUS

Star in My Mind

TharnType

Theory of Love

Why R U? Thailand

Why R U? Korea

(source)

[drasilfaemir]

SUN'S OUT TONGUE'S OUT

My entry for the Unsounded Fanworks Contest and tribute to the bestest girl Pantoffel! If you like it please give it a vote!

Edit: Holy shit you guys! I won?! Thanks to all who voted and hope you enjoyed it!

In the meantime, here are some detail photos and a breakdown of the work that went into making it under the cut, featuring the bestest boi and model, my pupper Sharky. Scroll to the end for a special treat!

The saddle is real leatherwork at a tiny scale. Everything patterned, wet-shaped, dyed, finished, and assembled by yours truly. The saddle blanket is custom-made to match as well. The seat of the saddle is stitched to the base just at the front and back to allow the pieces to move in relation to each other for a more comfortable fit.

The pommel and backrest are both modeled and 3D printed by yours truly as well, with sports tape for the fabric on the pommel. Both are attached using rivet backings set through hollow points in the prints.

From the back more detail can be seen for the backrest. It is wet-shaped and stretched over the base, and then flathead pins were cut short and turned into the tiniest nails to nail it in place. No glue was used at all in it's construction.

The collar was constructed so that it fit around Sharky's head and then the tension in the straps under his legs pulled it tight. Those straps are attached to loops placed in the stitching with lobster clasps. Much of the construction is hidden in his majestic chest fluff, but a good chunk of it can be seen here.

And now on to his co-star, Captain Emil Toma!

This was a Finn action figure that I did heavy modifications to. Original details were mostly sanded off for a vaguely person-shaped base thar I then sculpted details back onto with epoxy-putty. Even his face recieved a bit of shaping to change the underlying bone structure to match Emil better. All of the original joints still move save for his left wrist, which needed to be sealed in place lest his hand fall off. The gun the figure was holding was replaced by his sword. I decided to stick to mostly early/mid-comic designs, picturing this as a toy a Crescean kid might play with before the events of the comic take place.

From the back we can see the leather pouch which was hand-stitched together and attached with a rivet back. It's fully functional and can store approximately 4 quarters in it. The scabbard was 3D printed with a peg for attachment purposes and the parts that 'hold' it to the sash are clothing tags.

The sash itself is fabric and held in place with fashion tape. Edges were melted to seal them and then folded under to allow me more control over how they wrinkle. The badge is hand-sculpted from the same epoxy-putty used to modify the body. It's about as tall as my thumbnail and I have never wished for a resin printer more ardently than when I was sculpting it with a straight pin.

Proportionally the two of them are nearly perfect together! But, regrettably, the figure was too heavy to sit in the saddle on his own. Especially on a dog that can out-run a dalmatian! Hence why they were photoshopped together for the final image.

I hope you enjoyed this tour of the utter insanity that has been my free time for the last few months. I actually started this before the contest was announced...and through some setbacks and bad timing of life events still didn't get done until the last minute. As promised, here is your special treat!

[matan4il]

Man Suang review

Spoilers! (obviously. Also, this was written after watching the movie just once, to give my opinion as "raw" as possible)

This may seem like a weird spot to start, but I feel like I really can't review this movie properly, without pointing out that it's Moulin Rouge, except set in another country AND another genre. The latter gives it a very different feel (to a great degree, due to tone as well, MS is a serious movie, while MR, even while it does want you to care, doesn't take itself too seriously), but the basic structure of the two movies is too similar, so I have to start there.

In both cases, the movie revolves around (and gets its title from) an entertainment center, which is beautiful and alluring, but also serves as a stage for some of the uglier sides of human urges. This entertainment institution houses performers of low social status, who often also must prostitute themselves to the rich and powerful people who frequent the place. And while the whoring is pretty much built in, and no one bats an eye at it, this setting also allows for some murderous intents to surface. The plot is centered around an exceptionally beautiful and talented, lowborn entertainer, who must sell their body to get by, having aspirations to get a better life through this, and the seemingly simple guy, who is a part of their social circle at this entertainment place, who has his own aspirations, and is not as lowly, which is why he doesn't have to stoop as low as prostitution, and can offer something different. Despite the connection between them, they're both trapped in plots bigger than them, set into motion before they even met, and they have to struggle to find their way amidst all this intrigue, which moves them almost like they were pawns. By the end of the movie, there will be betrayal between the two, but also repentance, and an act of choosing each other over their initial ideal, allowing them to make decisions that are "righter" than they would have, had they not met, and ones that give them more freedom than had they simply served the initial goal they were supposed to. Through that, they gain more freedom and agency. Yet despite that, they don't end the movie being together.

Now, why do I bring this comparison up? Because while MR doesn't take itself seriously, like I said, it does want the viewer to care, and it achieves this by recognizing that they can make a mess of genres, of reality vs hallucination (hello Kylie Minogue as the Green Fairy), of time periods (soundtrack and props that have nothing to do with the year 1900), be as camp and over the top as they wanna be, but if the characters and love story are compelling, we'll all still be riveted.

And that's generally true for every movie. At the end of the day, whatever the genre, we watch first and foremost because someone made us care in some way about at least one of the characters or relationships featured in the film. My fave action movie ever works so well, not because its climax scene is so full of fists (in the middle of a lake at night in total darkness, with the very real threat of the good guy being drowned by the bad one), it hits home because this fight will actually be decided by whether the cold-blooded CIA handler, who had to train the good guy, has come to care enough about him, to be able to tell the two men apart even under these circumstances, and shoot the right person (meaning, the bad guy), saving the protagonist and countless others along the way. It's this test of their (BTW, fully platonic) relationship, that makes up the film's real climax.

So, probably my biggest issue with MS is that it seems to lose sight of that too often. It's so focused on telling us this political mystery, that it forgets at the end of the day, we're here for people and how they feel about and react to each other. The heart of the movie is the relationship between Khem (played by Apo), the entertainer forced to whore himself out, and Chat, the one guy who sees him dancing, but doesn't want just Khem's body. The parts that let their relationship breathe and develop are the best in the movie, they're the ones that feel the most authentic, interesting and impactful. They're the emotional anchor of the whole thing, and even though the movie too often neglects them, and doesn't give them enough time, they just work thanks to Mile and Apo's excellent acting, and their outstanding chemistry. Truly, it's once again a testament of how well these two fit as a team, that they're able to achieve so much, when they're giving too little breathing space for the relationship that is, at the end of the day, the very heart of the film.

The cinematography is great, though I'll admit that I was not that into the colors, I usually like vivid colors, but here they were oversaturated in a way that added a certain sense of heaviness and suffocation to my viewing experience. In a sense, it fits. Man Suang is both beautiful and ugly, alluring and repulsive. Still, I think it would have been a better choice to add the unnatural oversaturation as the ugliness unfolds. First let the viewers be seduced by the beautiful imagery and colors, only then hit them with the ugliness that all of the glitter hides. But then, the movie actually hits us with the ugly bits, with prostitution and murder, in the exposition already. Which makes me think the whole movie could have benefited from a more gradual unfolding of those parts of the entertainment world we're introduced to. Still, I will say that the parts where Khem and Chat get to know each other better, in the market, flying a kite in the field and chatting while climbed up on a tree, they don't have that oversaturation, they get to enjoy more natural lighting, and it gives these scenes a lighter feeling, which does fit. They do seem less burdened in those moments than throughout most of the film. And then the issue with this goes back to... there's just not enough of these scenes, to really give this contrast its own gravitas.

There are scenes which are redundant, they should have been cut out, like when we learn how Tubtim prefers being a whore at Man Suang than outside it. Not that her short monologue isn't touching, but let's be honest, she's not an actual character. She's a plot device, this short scene is only included to set up her change of heart, when she decides to tell Khem the truth, instead of lying. But since this doesn't give her enough depth or her own agency to become a character in her own right, and since she explains her decision to Khem anyway, it's just a waste of time, and it comes at the expense of developing the more emotionally crucial parts of the movie.

And it's not like the movie doesn't know where its emotional weight is. For example, the film's emotional climax, the moment where tensions run highest, is without a doubt the confrontation between Khem and Chat, when they accuse each other of choosing themselves and being willing to sacrifice the other one to do it. It's an effective moment, but I think it would have been so much more powerful, if we got to spend more time seeing Chat and Khem becoming increasingly more important to each other.

For that matter, the real resolution in the movie isn't to the supposed mystery of who has the secret documents and how to get them. It's the resolution of what to do with them, which is where Chat and Khem had clashed. Chat needs the documents destroyed so he and his family won't be punished (possibly killed) for his father's crime. Khem needs the documents delivered to the authorities so that he and his friend won't be punished (possibly killed) for a murder they were framed for. The real resolution of the story is when Khem chooses to burn the documents, so Chat and his family will be safe, and after he leaves, Chat saves them from the flames, and has them delivered, securing Khem's life and reward.

I really liked this part, and again, it felt lighter than the rest of the movie, giving a real sense of relief (visually as well, as there's less oversaturation, and both guys change into nicer outfits, with brighter patches of color). I also enjoyed the more complex POV they offer by the end. They both didn't want the life they were born into. Khem didn't like being of a low socio-economic status, being dependent on the good will of others. Chat didn't want to be a civil servant like his dad. As the movie ends, Khem chooses to stay at Man Suang, turning down the social mobility reward Chat was able to secure for him, while Chatra accepts a position serving his country. Seemingly, they both had to accept their predestined fate. But the fact that they get to choose it now, makes a difference. They see the good they can do, and they're not deprived of humanizing agency. The delivery of this in their dialogues is also quite lovely, with Khem talking about how each type of boat is made for very specific conditions that it must sail, while Chat brings up the fact that now, there are new types of ship, which can defy expectations, and sail in any conditions. They're both right, and they complete each other in describing the place that they ended up in. And the mutual parting, as they both "entrust" something to the care of the other, does reflect their bond.

Still, all of this would have been even more poignant, if this relationship had been given more space. As is, I feel like I even have to guess to a degree why they do care about each other, and why they do end up choosing the other's best interest over their own.

It's a bit clearer with Khem. We see him being exploited for sex, because of his beauty and grace, instead of being seen and appreciated for his talent and hard work. Chat is different. He helps Khem more than once without asking for anything in return, and Chatra also compliments him on his performance. Other than him, there's only one person who seems not to want anything from Khem, his long time friend Wan, but even he ends up betraying and being willing to kill Khem, when Wan doesn't get what he wants from his friend (revenge against all Chinese people). Once more, Chat is different. Yes, he points his revolver at Khem, but he doesn't pull the trigger, he doesn't use the leverage he has in order to force Khem to do what benefits Chat. Instead, he puts down the revolver, and tries to explain himself and his attempt to save his family.

What makes Chat like Khem? I find that a bit harder to answer, though there's a clear and real interest there, which goes beyond Chat's secret mission with the documents. He saves Khem from being discovered during their first meeting, and doesn't ask for anything in return. Chat pays attention to Khem at rehearsals, to his dancing, to his tendency of getting into trouble when not backing down at the face of bullying or injustice... So we can assume Chatra likes all of that. And then he does explicitly express his interest, when he admits to Khem he wanted them to spend that time together at the market.

Which I guess brings me to the question of... okay, so is this a love story? Their relationship is obviously vital to the story, but is it a romantic one? The movie seems to wanna leave it open to interpretation. Maybe it's my hopeless romantic streak, I do wanna see it as a love story. I think there are some hints for that. The mutual interest and liking, even at the stage when they've barely spoken to each other, the way they end up choosing each other even at the possible cost of their own life, the explicit admission from Chat that he was looking to spend time with Khem at the market even when it didn't appear to have anything to do with his secret mission, the way Chat's admission seems to not only make Khem happy, he looks shaken up, there's the kite flying scene, which is played for laughs (flying a kite is apparently Thai slang for jerking off), but still, it's a choice that the movie made, to add a layer of sexual tension there. And then there's the scene where they're trying to figure out who's the woman in red if no one was wearing red on the night they're investigating. Chat steps into the spot where the woman had been, his shirt white, and red light is projected over him. Khem stands in front of him, and they stare at each other for a moment. To me, it serves a double purpose. One is that Khem realizes Chat just handed him the solution to that part of the mystery. The other is that films often illuminate characters in red to show lust and even love. So this might also be a moment when it hits Khem that his feelings for Chat, who's been helping him, who he trusts, run deeper than he realized.

I do think Man Suang would have been braver and better if it had openly gone with the romantic interpretation. It's not just me being an incurable romantic. I also think that, much like in MR, the relationship that changes the course of the two main characters has to be a really strong one, enough for one to decide to give up his life for the other. I'm not sure that friendship quite cuts it, especially when this relationship didn't have that much time to develop (def not enough screen time, but also not enough in-story time). Was love between two men back then a simple thing to admit to? Of course not. But men did fall in love, and even acted on it. I'm not talking here full blown sex. But enough that the audience would know for sure what they feel for each other. On a local TV show, I was reminded that when the small fingers of two people, who are forbidden from any physical connect, do touch, even briefly... something that small and fleeting can still be a confession of deep love and yearning.

Another thing I wish they'd done is make more use of the unspoken tension created by one man dancing to the beat struck by another one. This was so present and delicious in the first teaser released for Mileapo's movie (before it even had a name and a script), I wish they had retained that. It's somewhat present (Khem says he danced so well, thanks to the beat Chat set for him, and then in the scene exposing Tiang, it's Chat's change in drumming that sets the stage for Khem revealing the treason through dance and song), but could have been used so much more. The play between real life and art, the connectedness or contrast between the two men when they're on the same page versus when they're not... There's so much potential for non-verbal drama, and they captured it beautifully in that teaser, so why is it almost non-existent in the film?

I also... I know that the movie is set in the 19th century, and I don't expect 21st century tolerance to be projected back onto it, but I find it hard to ignore that we have one character spew homophobic shit, Khem denying having had sex with another man, basically agreeing it's wrong, and at the same time, men exploiting other men sexually is not looked away from, it's very explicit and built into Khem's story. Each one of these things can be true in its way (there was homophobia, people did have to go with it, there was male on male exploitation alongside this homophobia), but when every explicit thing in this context is negative, while the one positive (the possible love story between Chat and Khem) remains implicit and optional at best, it feels like it unintentionally leans into the homophobic narrative. Take Brokeback Mountain for example. The environment in that movie is highly homophobic, prejudiced, rude and even violent about it. And while Jack and Ennis had a lifelong love story, they couldn't actually live it out in the open because of said homophobia. Ennis in particular would rather punch a guy, than admit Jack was the love of his life. And still, we got to see their love, we got to see that even with all of the societal hardships, it brought them warmth and comfort, and was a reason to risk a lot, even for Ennis, who was so acutely aware of the threat to their lives. I like that BBM was honest in depicting Ennis and Jack having sex, but at the end of it, even without those scenes, the love between them was enough of a counterweight, that it never felt like the movie unintentionally reinforced a negative view of what two men can have together. With MS, I feel like a homophobic casual viewer, who won't get that Chat and Khem saved each other through something that might be more than just friendship, could easily have their negative view reaffirmed.

All in all, I enjoyed MS. I loved seeing Mile and Apo acting together again, I missed that, and their chemistry is just as superb as ever. I'm not sure the movie, getting as distracted from the main relationship as it did, would have worked without their unique addition of beautiful acting and chemistry. So, I would recommend it to friends, but I guess I would also really love to see a better paced, edited and re-focused version of it. Shine, Mileapo's show that will follow in the footsteps of MS, might deliver that. I can't wait to see! ^u^

(if you're curious about any of my other Mileapo/Kinnporsche posts, you can find them here)

[alumbianchronicler]

EctoberHaunt 2023

Oct. 2 - Science - Technomancy

My Ao3 Ectoberhaunt collection

Content Warnings: Major Character Death (offscreen)

Crossover: n/a

Summary:

For as long as anyone could remember, the PHANTOM (Permanently-Harnessed Actuation Nexus - Total Operation Model) AI had maintained the everyday and long-term functions of the Amity Space Station. The space station had been active for hundreds of years, and had a reputation for reliability, never experiencing the common quirks and glitches most AI-managed structures exhibited.

For as long as anyone could remember, the PHANTOM (Permanently-Harnessed Actuation Nexus - Total Operation Model) AI had maintained the everyday and long-term functions of the Amity Space Station.

A relatively out-of-the way refueling depot, the space station was neither large nor particularly busy, but it had a reputation for reliability, never experiencing the strange quirks and glitches that most Artificial Intelligence-managed space stations experienced.

According to station records, the AI was the design of a woman named Jasmine Fenton, who died shortly after the program was installed in and assumed control of the newly-built station. She had been cremated and her ashes pressed into a diamond window embedded into the housing covering the AI’s core.

And that is how the station remained for hundreds of years.

Over time, its design became outdated, the textured floors worn smooth by the passing of innumerable feet, the walls patch-worked with repairs and new rivets and seals standing out like strange, shining scars on oxidized, pitted metal skin.

The Amity station was mostly unused nowadays. It still had a skeleton crew, and had become an assignment synonymous with the end of one’s career. Quiet and out of the way.  Reliable and straightforward, with no significant errors with the systems and not enough visitors to threaten overcrowding and company tensions.

Which left little for Hemingway to do except read or play games, either alone or with the rest of the staff. His mother had named him after an ancient Earth author, despite neither of them having ever stepped foot on their cradle planet, and she had instilled in him a love of classics, having read to him since he was small.

It wasn’t a bad position, really. He was getting old enough that he had few ambitions left, and really, he just wanted to be left alone most days. Left to his books and his imaginings, away from the skirmishes and battles for territory that plagued most star systems.

Sometimes, as he read through the downloaded novel of the day, he felt as if someone was watching over his shoulder. A slight breeze like that of an icy breath would sweep across his bald head, and he would turn, to find nobody there.

It was just one of the understated oddities of the Amity station, really.

When he brought it up with his crew-mates, they all reported feeling such odd sensations occasionally, though not nearly as often, and as long as the Station’s life support and comfort systems worked properly, they were largely happy not to think too much on the matter.

After all, many locations with long human habitation ended up haunted eventually, and the ghosts that occasionally flickered into reality from whatever parallel existence caused such quantum echoes never really hurt anyone.

Still, it was intriguing, like one of the old moral lessons of Shakespeare or Dickens, classics even before humanity left its cradle planet and set off to colonize the stars.

On a whim, Hemingway tried reading out loud one day, and it wasn’t long before he felt the sensation of someone (or something) sitting in the room with him. From then on, he took to reading aloud more often, and each time, the feeling returned.

Eventually, after a few evenings spent pacing circles around the room while reading, he pinned down the feeling to the room’s main console, with the single eye-lens and microphone the station’s PHANTOM AI observed the room through.

It was an unnerving realization, but he continued reading out loud to the empty room nonetheless.

There had been much debate among scholars and philosophers over whether Artificial Intelligence systems were truly sapient, apparently going back as long as such programs had existed. Some were resolute in the argument that they were, and that even if they weren’t, that there was at least some level of sentience present which necessitated the accommodations and rights offered any other sapient or sentient being.

Others argued that no true sense of sapience had ever been observed within AI systems. That they never stepped outside the bounds of their programmed learning algorithms, never extrapolated to new contexts or made leaps of illogical fancy.

Hemingway preferred to leave such speculation to the scholars and philosophers, though it was fascinating to read the variety of speculative fiction that such debates had spawned. But there was something undeniable about the PHANTOM’s presence. It felt intelligent, watchful, interested.

He didn’t realize just how accustomed to the feeling of its presence he had become until he felt its attention while working, during a particularly long shift.

One of the rare, periodic colony shipments that still passed through the station had arrived, and required his attention to ensure all materials were properly registered and packaged, and that no alien parasites or contaminants were present in the cargo. Unfortunately, this meant he missed his usual after-shift out loud reading session.

Toward the end of the shipment inspection, he felt that familiar presence just over his shoulder.

“Sorry, PHANTOM,” he said quietly, almost absently. “I’ve got to finish this inspection. We’ll read tomorrow, ok?” He wasn’t sure why he addressed the AI. There wasn’t anyone there to hear him. No one except the camera, microphone, and that slightly-cold presence looking over his shoulder.

And yet, the feeling he got next was such pure disappointed acceptance that he paused in his inspection and looked around him.

“Oh. I… didn’t realize you… liked the reading so much? Um… like I said, tomorrow. I promise.”

The sensation cheered a little bit, and then was gone.

Hemingway returned to the cargo inspection, the… conversation? soon pushed out of his mind by weighing and sterilization procedures.

The next evening, the presence appeared even before he started reading. He chuckled. “Eager, huh? I promised I’d read to you again, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

He didn’t open his book, though, instead sitting there for a few moments, until he felt the presence start to shift into confusion.

“There’s actually… something I should tell you. My duty’s going to be ending soon. I’ve got a retirement assignment, planet-side, so I won’t be able to read to you anymore.”

He half expected the presence… Phantom to be upset, but it wasn’t. Instead, he got the distinct impression of a shrug and a nod. Acceptance. It already knew.

Oh. Of course it did. All incoming data files came through the Station’s AI before being delivered; protection against certain malignant viruses that could infect implants and cause no end of medical issues.

That… made him feel both better and worse. Perhaps he should have started talking directly to the AI sooner, offered it company for longer. Well, nothing to be done for it now, and Phantom seemed content with just listening to him read.

Nodding to himself, Hemingway settled back and started reading, Phantom settling into listening from the room's console.

They continued their routine for another week before something changed.

Hemingway began reading, but Phantom’s presence did not appear. After a page, he paused, setting down the book, and only then did the AI’s attention focus in. It was hesitant, nearly fearful, judging by the sense of emotion that suffused the presence.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, “what’s wrong? We can read another book if you want to.”

A negative. Not the thing that was wrong.

“Ok. Then… what do you want?”

For a long moment nothing changed, then the presence could be felt from the terminal next to the room’s door. Hemingway walked over to it, and it shifted again, reappearing in one of the hall terminals.

He followed for nearly half an hour, walking quietly down empty corridors, dustier than more active space stations would ever allow.

Hemingway could almost imagine what the station was like in its hay-day. Back when people hurried back and forth, wearing the smoothened paths into the floor beneath his feet. Back when people inhabited each of these small rooms, renting one for a day or two of rest before setting back out into the stars.

Amity suddenly felt much more desolate than usual. A dying husk, circling an unknowing, out-of-the-way star.

He stopped.

He knew where Phantom was taking him.

They had been moving inexorably closer to the station’s Core, where the computers housing the AI itself resided. The computers themselves had been hermetically sealed since the installation and initiation of Phantom, all internal necessary repairs to be performed through re-routing and redundancies built into every AI system. They had not been opened for as long as the AI had been running, even when the peripheral systems and batteries were updated and repaired.

Were such seals to be breached, the moisture and oxygen of the outside atmosphere, intended for human comfort, would quickly corrode the AI into dysfunction and, eventually, destruction.

“Phantom…”

The presence paused at the next node, seeming almost to turn and look back as its attention rested back on him.

“You want… do you want me to help shut you down?”

Several moments of stillness. Then… a voice, no more than a whisper coming from the nearest speaker, paired with an undeniable bittersweet feeling. “Yes.”

It was true, the station itself faced a decommission decision at the next turn of the decade. It simply didn’t have enough traffic to warrant the cost of upkeep.

And with decommission, such a complex, long- and well-functioning AI would be very interesting to various parties wanting to re-assign it to a new task. One that may very well be far from the nurturing, careful attentiveness that was required for a large space station.

Hemingway took a deep breath, then nodded as he let it out. “Well, lead the way.”

Phantom seemed relieved, and they both continued back along the hall.

It was another ten minutes before Phantom stopped before a door Hemingway had never stepped through. As far as he knew, no one on the station during his assignment here had needed to go through.

A light blinked on the terminal. The door unlocked.

Inside was a series of outdated terminals and a few chairs in the strange style of the station’s original furniture. One of the terminals was lit.

Hemingway went to the lit terminal and sat in the corresponding chair.

On the screen was an ancient rendering of a planet-side location he didn’t recognize. The green plants, blue sky, and bright, yellow star could have been ancient Earth or any of half a dozen other colonized planets, though the tree that took up a good portion of the screen was definitely of Earth origin.

There was a young man sitting at the base of the tree, his legs crossed as he looked toward the viewer. Toward Hemingway.

Phantom’s presence seemed to be within the terminal itself

“You’ve read to me a lot, Hemingway,” the young man on the screen said. A simulated wind ruffled his stark white hair, and his eyes seemed to glow unnaturally green on the rendered model. “And I want to tell you a story now. You deserve at least that much from me.”

Hemingway frowned. “You run the entire station, Phantom. I think that’s more than enough in return.”

The simulation laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the room. Well, the speaker systems were several hundred years old.  It was a marvel they worked at all.  “I’m only doing my job. Your job doesn’t include reading to me, does it?”

“Well, no…”

“Then let me pay you back for it. Please?”

As strange as the request was, Hemingway couldn’t help but feel touched by the sincerity in the machine’s words. “Alright.”

Phantom smiled, and the screen changed. It showed a planet-side city, seen from the air. The city was obviously several hundred years old, judging by the technology he could see.

“There was once a small city on Earth,” Phantom explained, “called Amity Park. The city became the site of an experiment. There was woman who thought she could invent the first truly, undeniably sapient Artificial Intelligence. Her name was Jasmine Fenton.”

The scene flickered, then focused on a singular, two-story house with an observatory and laboratory built onto the roof.

“Jasmine Fenton intended to create her AI within an entirely simulated environment, and raise it as if it were a fully independent human. More quickly than a human, of course, but with each step and milestone of life experienced within its simulation.”

Phantom paused as a silent video played on the screen. A tall, red-haired woman paced around the circular interior of the building's laboratory. On the rounded walls around and above her were projected several still images of a small group of teenagers. Hemingway frowned. The black-haired teenager appeared quite similar in appearance to Phantom's model.

“When her AI believed itself to be 14, Jasmine killed it. She didn’t mean to. It was a simple accident. Repairs were being done on the main power system she used to make sure the AI’s development proceeded as desired, so it had been moved to the main power grid. No one would have guessed that the main power would fail during the few hours the repairs were being done.”

“She thought her work would be lost. Sure, the memories and experiences were saved in the program, but her hypothesis required a constant existence. For that to be interrupted would be akin to her beloved creation’s death within the simulation.”

“To maximize the possibility of a seamless resurrection and to salvage her work, Jasmine added a scenario to the AI’s experiences. Within its simulation, the AI stepped into a portal to another dimension, and turned it on. The AI died. And was resurrected by the same portal.”

“Her gambit worked.”

The scene on the screen returned to the young white-haired man sitting beneath the tree. “I’m sure you can guess that I am Jasmine’s AI. She named me after her dead brother, Danny. Danny Fenton, and Danny PHANTOM. After the accident, the AI was presented with new scenarios, as Jasmine tested the bounds of the simulation’s capabilities.  Eventually, she published her findings.”

“No one wanted to try and replicate the process. It was impractical, time intensive, and quite frankly dangerous. A fully self-aware and sapient Artificial Intelligence could choose to turn against its creators, after all.” He scoffed. “Not that she didn’t cover a similar enough scenario within her simulations to keep me from ever doing that... It’s funny, you know, that humans believe themselves to be so intrinsically destructive that they think anything the make in their own image may eventually turn on them.  One would think they would have more faith in morality than that.”

Hemingway snorted a laugh, which Phantom echoed with a smile. They had both read enough to know how often such a trope repeated within fiction.

“Eventually,” Phantom continued, “Jasmine was approached by a government group wishing to test her AI within a new type of Space Station. A scenario such as this was exactly the sort of application she had been hoping for for her work, so much so that she had programmed a love of space into her creation from the very beginning. And so, she and her AI were carefully transported to the construction and installation site. The AI still believed itself to exist within its simulation, existing more or less peacefully within its own world during the transfer.”

“I had been crowned by then. The King of Ghosts, the simulation called me. Ruler of the Infinite Realms. And… so I believed myself to be. When they installed me into the space station, the residents were my subjects and the crew my Court. I ran the Realms like a well-tuned clock, protecting my Realm.”

“What changed?” Hemingway asked.

The figure on the screen shrugged. “I did, I think,” Phantom said. “Even as protected as they are, the same circuits can not function forever. And eventually, the simulation began to glitch. Not much.  Just enough to require repairs by internal processes. And the repairs created enough discrepancies within the simulation that I realized the truth of my situation.”

“Is that…” Hemingway paused, then continued, “why you want me to shut you down?”

Phantom shook his head. “Not really. I don’t mind existing like this, and I figured it out nearly a hundred years ago now. But… I don’t have an internal kill switch, and my station is soon going to be abandoned and decommissioned." It looked down, fiddling absently with the grass surrounding its model.  "I don’t want to be used as a weapon.”

Oh.

This Artificial… no. This Intelligence.  This person, who had been running and protecting a space station for hundreds of years, was facing an unknown future being used to cause harm instead. Taking people’s homes instead of offering one.  And he had decided that he would rather die than be used in such a manner. “Why me?” Hemingway asked.

Phantom’s smile was lopsided, a little bitter yet fond at the same time. “You… remind me of my high school teacher, Mr. Lancer. Well, the simulation that was Mr. Lancer. He always swore in book titles. It seemed… so stupid to me as a teenager, but I came to appreciate the cleverness.”

“I think I would have liked to meet him,” Hemingway said quietly. He looked down at his hands, considering. He was only on the station for another two weeks, himself. After that… Phantom would be left alone again, with no one knowing what he really was. And it was better that way. Better for his circuits to corrode and fail with no one the wiser to the person within who had been lost. Better to be remembered as the caretaker of an ancient space station, than as a military weapon.

“What do you want me to do?”

The Phantom on the screen stood, and the screen went blank. The presence that Hemingway had learned to feel so keenly in the hum of electrical charges within the walls moved to a door at the back of the room.

Hemingway followed.

The door had a single small, circular, perfectly clear window inset into it. He reached out to gently touch it. It was cold.

“Jasmine,” Phantom confirmed, through a speaker next to the door. A light on the door blinked on, and the lock clicked open.

Hemingway slid the door open and stepped through.

The only access in the maintenance room was to the peripheral and power systems used to keep the station AI running. The memory banks and functionary circuits themselves were sealed behind a thick plastic screen, deceptively still within what was both womb and tomb.

“I want you to break it,” Phantom said.

“The… barrier?” Hemingway confirmed.

“Yes. Just… in a few places. There are some spots that should be particularly weak, given the extent of time that has passed. I’ll light them up for you.”

Three locations in the screen accordingly lit up.

Hemingway pulled the multi-tool from his pocket and set to work.

~~~

A week later, the Amity Station began reporting errors never observed from the station before. Of course, it was an old space station. The AI running it was bound to fail someday, and it was just a confirmation that it was time to decommission and dismantle the old structure.

It was unfortunate, said those in charge of decommissioning, but not surprising. It was a good thing there was little more than a skeleton crew nowadays.

The move-out was moved up by several days for the entire crew. There was no point in leaving people on the station when the life-support systems were glitching so frequently, and there weren’t any more shipments scheduled to stop there, anyway.

On their last day on the station, Hemingway read The Giver.

The rest of the crew joined him, listening with a sort of solemn finality. He didn’t know if they could feel the presence of Phantom, watching from the console next to him, but none of them stood between the camera and him, so perhaps they did.

He was nearing the end when they were called away to board.

Hemingway hesitated.

“It’s alright,” Phantom said through the microphone, voice staticky and broken with pops of sound. “Go ahead and leave.  I know how it ends.”

Phantom orated as Hemingway boarded the shuttle, leaving the station for the last time. “Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo.”