#Turn-O-Graph

[moonwatchuniverse]

1968, December 24 ... Christmas with Apollo 8 Five NASA astronauts man the CapCom - Capsule Communicator console in the MOCR - Mission Operations Control Room at the Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston Texas. Astronauts Michael Collins, Kenneth Mattingly, Harrison Schmitt, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin look on as Collins was CapCom at that moment. Vance Brand, Gerald Carr and Fred Haise later also acted as Apollo 8 CapCom. On December 21, Apollo 8  had entered Lunar orbit and after circling the Moon 10 times on Christmas Eve, it was time to come home. On Christmas morning, NASA awaited confirmation that Apollo 8's engine burn to leave Lunar orbit had worked successfully. Note, during that important moment, Michael Collins was still wearing his personal Rolex Turn-O-Graph pilot watch on steel Oyster bracelet. (Photo: NASA)

[wibben]

Perfectly Imperfect

🎃 My actual plan for Halloween is, unsurprisingly, not finished. But I couldn't just let Halloween come and go without a little something! So here's a little fluffy Nanami Kento, struggling with being a perfectionist. 🎃

---------------------------------------------------------

You were beginning to suspect Nanami took pumpkin carving more seriously than most.

The first time you leaned over to see his progress, he’d swiveled his pumpkin out of sight, his brows knitting in concentration. “Not yet. It’s not ready.”

You’d laughed, shrugged, and let him be, thinking it was cute he wanted it to be a surprise. After all, that was so very Kento – everything he did had that meticulous touch. But after your own pumpkin was proudly propped up (and, admittedly, a little wobbly in its smile), Kento still wouldn’t let you peek. His shoulders were a little tense, jaw set as he sliced each angle of his pumpkin with the same exacting precision he used to analyze your taxes. 

“Come on,” you teased, nudging his shoulder. “Let me see.”

But he only huffed, eyes glued to the uneven surface of the pumpkin, moving his knife in slow, perfectly straight lines. “It’s not ready,” he repeated, sounding… a little deflated.

You tried to give him space, focusing on arranging the remaining seeds into tiny, wobbly hearts and stars. But every so often you’d catch him glancing at your pumpkin, a small wrinkle of irritation tugging at his brow. It’d been nearly an hour now, and he still hadn’t carved anything more than a few long, straight slices, some lines coming out so exact they didn’t even look… pumpkin-y. At all. But the lines did look familiar…

After the third time he swiveled the pumpkin away from your eyes, muttering something about the lines not coming out right, you pressed a hand to his to halt his knife. “Kento,” you said, struggling not to smile, “are you… using your technique on the pumpkin?”

His mouth twitched, a flush creeping up to his cheeks. “That would be ridiculous,” he muttered, though his fingers tightened around the carving tool with even more grim resolve. You’d seen that look before – it was his getting shit done as neatly as possible look.

“What if… just for tonight,” you whispered, stifling a laugh, “you forget about perfect lines and… you know, let it be a little wonky?” 

He exhaled, slow and resigned, and turned his pumpkin just slightly so you could see what he’d carved so far: a series of perfectly measured slashes, each one a little too sharp, too straight, all at perfect angles of seven to three, creating what looked more like a spreadsheet than a face.

“I’ve carved one eye,” he said, and he sounded almost ashamed. “The mouth keeps looking like a bar graph.”

You had to bite back a laugh. You reached over, flicking a bit of pumpkin goop in his direction. “You can’t make a jack-o'-lantern with ratios, Kento.” 

He leveled you with a scandalized look, brushing a seed from his hair where it had landed. “Yes I absolutely can and you know it,” he said, tone dead serious. “This pumpkin just has no symmetry.”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, pressing a hand to your mouth. “Symmetry? It’s a pumpkin!” 

He scowled – though the corners of his mouth betrayed him, just a little, tugging up as you reached over, guiding his knife in a jagged, uneven arc to make a cartoonishly crooked smile on the pumpkin’s lopsided face.

He watched your shaky line, a look of pure horror crossing his face. “The angles aren’t even close, my love—” he groaned, but he couldn’t stop a smile from creeping up, finally, when you added a few goofy teeth.

“There,” you said, wiping your hands on your jeans. “See? It’s you, Kento.”

He looked down at the wobbly, crooked-faced pumpkin, then back at you in mock accusation, embittered with disbelief. “Cruel woman… I look nothing like that.” He grumbled, disgruntled as he fingered at the eyehole, picking out a stray seed stuck to the inner wall.

You watched. Shamelessly. With a grin slowly growing on your face and a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows to accompany, which was promptly met with that same seed being flicked straight between your eyes.

“Incorrigible,” he accused.

He sighed, surrendering with a slump to his shoulders at having been thoroughly bested by a gourd. “Unbelievable.” But his tone softened as he shook his head, eyes lingering on your pumpkin which proudly supported your elbow, all wobbly lines and clumsy knife strokes and you couldn’t possibly look more pleased… and then his own, half him and half you, perfection to a fault but made better by your added touch and enthusiasm. 

“You did make it adorable,” he admitted, reaching out to flick a little pumpkin goop back at you.

You grinned, unable to resist scooping a handful of seeds to toss at him. “Yeah, see? Like you!”

Before you could blink, he’d ducked away, laughing, rounding the orange-guts-covered table with one quick stride to lift you right off your feet, your gleeful squeal swallowed by his low chuckle as he tossed you over his shoulder. He held you there easily, despite your wiggling, his free hand swatting playfully at the back of your thigh to chastise your squirming. 

"Behave," he chuckled, a thick arm keeping you secured while he scooped up the pumpkins with his other hand, tucking them in the crook of his arm.

By the time he set you down and proudly displayed the two pumpkins on your front steps, they looked… well, they looked a little lopsided. But the way he looked at them, and then looked at you – all smiles and pride as you hung on his arm with matted orange hair up to his elbows – he thought that was exactly how they should be.

They may not be masterpieces, but they were perfectly imperfect.

[giuseppe-yuki]

spoiled

fernando alonso x cocker spaniel shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 2k

warnings: one curse word

part my of shapeshifting!reader series

summary: as nando's precious cocker spaniel, you are spoiled rotten.

picture credits from pinterest :)

*side note- it has come to my attention that the cute puppy in the header is actually a king charles spaniel, not a cocker spaniel, so i apologize for that one. my headers are mainly used for aesthetic purposes, so feel free to imagine yourself as either breed :)

the word “no” was practically nonexistent when you were with nando. 

you want another birkin to go in your collection? here, have three. you felt like pizza for dinner? sure thing. pizza freshly made in italy is being flown in right now. wow, that baby pink aston sure is cute, isn’t it? here’s the keys to a brand new, custom made, db9 that has matching pink heart tire rims. 

it seemed like fernando’s singular goal in life as your boyfriend was simply to pamper and spoil you. when he found out your shapeshifting abilities, he became ecstatic. even more ways to spoil you! 

that’s how you found yourself sat on his lap, twin pink bows tied on each of your ears, inside of the aston martin meeting. mike krack was currently yapping about tire degradation and management, repeatedly smacking a labeled graph with his pointer stick. you usually didn’t accompany your boyfriend to these types of meetings, but you felt particularly clingy today, and who was he to deny your request? ignoring the bewildered looks of the engineers on the spinny chairs around you both, he leans down, presses a kiss to your head, and then combs his fingers through your freshly washed fur, making you sigh in contentment. 

however, mike’s loud voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

”fernando!” he shouts across the long table, stopping his long spiel. “are you even listening, or are you paying all your attention to your dog?”

all the engineers at the table turn towards fernando, giving him quizzical looks at the canine in his lap. (except for lance, who looked bored beyond his mind picking at his fingernails) he simply just shrugs, still petting you. “eh, what can i say? she’s kind of high maintenance.” 

the aston martin team principal rubs his face in annoyance, but picks up his pointer stick and continues on with his presentation. 

he only gets in a minute of talking before loud knocking echos throughout the meeting room. curious, you hop off of fernando’s lap and pad towards the door. 

“what is it now?” the irritated team principal exclaims exasperatedly. 

the door swings open, almost hitting you, to reveal a rather disgruntled-looking delivery man holding a clipboard that looked like it had a book’s worth of papers clipped to it. you flee back towards your boyfriend in fear. 

“fernando…alonso?” the deliveryman asks, squinting his eyes at the name printed on the top-most paper. when he receives a nod of confirmation, he continues,”i have some deliveries for you, and this stack of papers you have to sign that make sure you have received the parcels.” he then thrusts the board out to nando. 

while your boyfriend sifts through each paper, hastily scribbling his name on each dotted line, the delivery man peers around the room in shock, as if he just noticed the handful of engineers and moderately pissed team principal standing in front of him. the man’s bored demeanor shifts to a more panicked one. “i - um- is this a bad time? should i come back later?” he stutters out, shifting nervously. 

mike crack starts, “obviou-” before being cut off by fernando.

“no, right now is fine- it would be great if you could set up my purchases in my garage as well,” your boyfriend says, ignoring mike’s glare at the back of his head. 

with a jaw-dropping two championships in his racing history, who was anyone to refuse fernando? mike had no choice but to begrudgingly end the meeting short and send the engineers away to analyze the new racing data. 

meanwhile, you sat prettily in the corner of nando’s garage. and no- not at one of the dirty sweat-stained barstools in the garage- your boyfriend would never let you stain your soft fur like that. no, you sat in a plush white satin dog bed in your special curtained off area. 

under fernando’s instructions, a swarm of deliverymen bat away your pale lacy curtains and filter in like a line of ants, one after another. they place box after box on the carpeted floor of your little area. it creates a glimmering tower of designer jewelry boxes and prim monogrammed paper bags. 

after they exit the premises, fernando kneels down onto one knee and wraps you into a tight hug. “you enjoy your gifts, mi princesa!” he points to the sunny outdoors. “i’ll just be outside, overseeing the builders making the new air-conditioned mini house for you, okay?” 

you wag your tail at him, and give him a kiss (lick) on the cheek as a thank-you. 

the second fernando exits the room, lance’s girlfriend pokes her head through the sheer curtains separating your corner from the rest of the garage. 

“hellooooo!” she giggles. “now what do we have here?” 

looking over the pile of assorted bags and boxes on the floor, she pokes a green patterned bag labeled, ‘gucci.’

she jumps giddily after seeing several other matching shopping bags. “i saw the deliverymen come in with fernando’s order, and i was wondering i could-”

you shift to your human form before she can finish her sentence.

“yeah, i guess you can help me open them…” you sigh, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance. 

lance’s girlfriend squeals in glee before ripping open a dior bag. 

“how about this one?” you question, twirling around in your bedroom a haute couture babydoll dress. 

from his position on the bed, wedged in between the plush pillows, your boyfriend rakes his eyes across your body appreciatively and pretends to think for a second. 

“i think-” he pauses for a grand effect- “it looks absolutely beautiful on you, mi amor.” 

even though he compliments you everyday, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks heat up wherever you hear his praise. 

“why, thank you, nando!” you say, flashing a smile at him.

ducking behind the changing room divider, you slip on a more skimpy stirling green pajama set that lance’s girlfriend had somehow pulled from the stack of clothes earlier in the day.

you can practically hear nando’s jaw hit the floor when you daintily step out from behind the divider, hands shyly held together behind your back. 

“i’m guessing you like this one?” you joke, watching him blink back at you with an awestruck look. tiptoeing over a pile of clothes strewn on the ground and the pieces of expensive jewelry in various boxes, you run over to nando’s figure on the bed and prance onto his lap. 

face inches away from his, you take your hand and physically shut his gaping mouth. 

“speechless, huh?” you tease, tittering. 

fernando looks at you, the pajama set draped over you perfectly (why would it not? he had it custom designed to fit you), new van cleef necklaces hanging from your neck, and celine bangles adjourning your wrists, and he can’t help but think all the money he spent for you was worth it. 

his hazel eyes sparkle with adoration. “what can i say, mi amor? you take my breath away.”

you bat at his chest, giggling, before climbing off his lap and tucking yourself in next to him. like an automatic response, he protectively wraps his arm around you tucks your head into the crook between his neck and his shoulder. 

the twinkling stars, crickets chirping, and warmth of fernando’s body quickly lull you to sleep, but before you drift off, you place a soft kiss on your boyfriend’s stubbled jaw.

“thank you for all the gifts, nando. you’re way too good to me.” 

the next morning, you woke up early to drive to the paddock with fernando. it was race day, one of your favorite days to watch your boyfriend on the track. but, that also meant the swarm of celebrities, media, and fans of all ages that might step on your tail or ruin your little pink bows with their grimy hands. your ever so observant boyfriend took note of this right away and tucked you safely in between his arm and his body in your cocker spaniel form before a speck of dirt from the floor could touch you.

he doesn’t let you down until he arrives in his garage.

along with a couple of engineers, lance and his girlfriend are in there too. lance waves a polite hello to you and his older teammate, while his girlfriend shuffles over. she flashes a shy smile at your boyfriend before opening her mouth. 

“could you please tell your *ahem* girlfriend-“ she gestures to you in his arms- “thank you for letting me open all those gifts with her yesterday. it was really fun!” 

fernando lets out a chortle before nodding, “of course.” 

you let out a bark, as if saying no problem, and give her outstretched hand a lick. 

after your boyfriend peels away from you to go suit up with lance, you and lance’s girlfriend scamper back into your little sectioned off corner in the back of nando’s garage. you both sprawl yourselves on your satin white mini couch to wait for the the start of the race. you had to admit, having a boyfriend that spoiled you rotten was kind of nice. before you can get comfortable, however, the girl next to you practically launches herself off the couch.

“oww!” she yells, clutching her back. “what the actual fuck is that?”

you tilt you head in question, before you spot the offending material on the couch.

it was a swarovski diamond-lined dog collar with alternating green emeralds (you knew the possessive side of nando purposely put that in there to show what team you were rooting for). you laugh internally, before gingerly clutching it in your sharp canines and picking it off of the other side of the couch.

lance’s girlfriend shoots a playful glare at you. “wow…i literally helped you rip open all those boxes yesterday, and this is how you repay me? by nearly stabbing me to death with those ridiculously sharp gems?”

you roll your eyes, but give her a bark to apologize. jumping off the couch, you gently place the collar in front of her. knowing your intent, she bends down and fastens it on your neck, but not before exaggeratedly groaning and clutching her back as she knelt down.

in front of the full size mirror propped against the wall, you admire the way the collar glimmers like stars on your neck. then, the girl in front of you comes up with an idea. 

“hey! we should go show max’s girlfriend your sparkly new jewelry!”

max’s girlfriend is nowhere to be found when you arrive in the redbull garage. ignoring the redbull engineers’ weird looks, you pad through in your aston martin colors with lance’s girlfriend by your side. still, you are unable to locate the girl you had in mind. 

lance’s girlfriend shrugs. “that’s so weird! i wonder if she is still in his driver’s room or something?”

you tilt your head in confusion. she shouldn’t be, as the race was starting soon, so max must be in the garage! making up your mind to find max’s girlfriend, you pad over to the highest object next to you- max’s car. without thinking, you jump up onto the drs flap the back in order to have a higher vantage point. you only realize your grave error when lance’s girlfriend looks at you with wide eyes and nearby engineers let out gasps of shock. 

as if it couldn’t get worse, max walks into the garage with his girlfriend in tow. he scrunches his eyebrows when he sees you on his car. pointing at you he lets out a shout.

“hey! what is fernando’s cocker spaniel doing on my car? call fernando and tell him that’s a €50,000 fine!”

when fernando comes over to the red bull garage to collect you, you bow your head in shame, fully expecting him to chastise you, but instead he holds you close and laughs. leaning close to your ear, he whispers, “good job, baby! i know max will never fine me for you touching his car- his girlfriend would never let him. next time, collect more info on his steering wheel setup and rear wing…they’ll never catch you!”

a/n: jk! one last fic for the current grid :)

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary 

@mbappebby @madkohi @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks

[dovesdreaming]

Chasing the calm

Summary: Boone and reader are complete opposites yet they compliment each other in every way

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

Boone was a force of nature. Not in the way that a tornado was but in the way he approached life. Every day was an adventure, every moment an opportunity for excitement, and every challenge a chance to prove that nothing could bring him down. His energy was infectious, his grin a permanent fixture on his face, and his voice carried through the storm chasing headquarters with a vibrancy that rivaled the wind itself. And then there was you. You were the calm in the eye of the storm. While Boone thrived on adrenaline, you found solace in the numbers, the data, the intricate patterns that made sense of the chaos. You could sit for hours, pouring over weather models, programming algorithms that predicted the unpredictable, all without a word. You needed the quiet, the solitude, the focus. Boone was a wildfire; you were the gentle, steady rain. It was a wonder to anyone who knew you both how the two of you had ended up together.

“Hey, babe! You gotta see this!” Boone’s voice boomed across the room as he burst through the door, clutching a tablet with the latest storm report. You didn’t look up. “Boone, I’m working” you replied, your tone measured, not unkind but firm. Your eyes remained fixed on your screen, numbers and graphs reflecting in your glasses. Boone bounded over anyway, dropping into the chair beside you with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever. He leaned in close, too close, his breath warm against your ear. “C’mon, just take a look! This supercell’s got the potential to be the biggest one of the season! We gotta get out there and see it in action!”. You sighed, finally turning to meet his sparkling eyes. “And by ‘we,’ you mean you want to drag me out of my perfectly quiet, controlled environment to chase another storm with you?”. He grinned, completely unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm. “Exactly! It’s gonna be awesome!”.

You stared at him for a moment, then shook your head with a small, affectionate smile. Boone was relentless, but it was part of what you loved about him. His energy, his passion. It was everything you weren’t, but maybe that was why it worked. He was the spark that kept you from getting too lost in your world of data. And you, in turn, were the anchor that kept him grounded when his excitement threatened to send him spiraling. “I’ll think about it” you said, knowing full well that Boone would be back to ask again in five minutes if you didn’t give him a definitive answer. He beamed, leaning in to press a quick, soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”. You hummed in response, trying to suppress the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his touch. “Just let me finish this analysis first, okay? We’ll talk after”. Boone hopped up from his seat, still buzzing with energy. “Deal! But don’t take too long, we’ve got storms to catch!”. As he bounced out of the room, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. Boone was a lot, and sometimes it was exhausting just trying to keep up with him. But as you turned back to your work, you realized that your heart felt lighter, your thoughts a little less heavy. His excitement was contagious, even when you tried to resist it.

The hours passed, and before you knew it, Boone was back. He was quieter this time, almost tentative as he approached. “Hey” he said, softer now. “You ready?”. You looked up at him, at the boyish excitement still lingering in his eyes, and felt the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. “Yeah, I’m ready”. The two of you headed out to the van, Boone practically bouncing as he drove, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time with the music blasting from the speakers. You let your head rest against the window, the rhythmic thrum of the engine a comfort as you watched the landscape blur by. It wasn’t long before the sky darkened, the telltale signs of a storm brewing on the horizon. Boone’s energy shifted, his excitement now laced with focus as he started navigating the roads with practiced precision.

“See that?” Boone pointed out the windshield, his voice hushed with awe. “That’s gonna be one hell of a storm”. You nodded, your analytical mind already processing the data. But even as you did, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Boone. The way his eyes lit up, the sheer joy he got from the chase, it was a sight to behold. “You really love this, don’t you?” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Boone caught your words and smiled, reaching out to take your hand. “Yeah, I do. But you know what I love more?”. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable cheesy line. “You” he said simply, squeezing your hand. “I love that you’re here with me, even though I know you’d rather be back in the lab. I love that you’re willing to put up with all this crazy because you know how much it means to me”.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. You squeezed his hand back, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you. “You’re worth it” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Boone’s grin was as bright as the lightning flashing in the distance. “You know, I think we balance each other out pretty well”. You nodded, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder as he drove. “Yeah, I think so too”.

As the storm raged outside, you found a strange sort of peace in the chaos. Boone was your storm, wild and unpredictable, and you were his calm, steady and unwavering. Together, you made sense of the madness. And in that moment, as the thunder roared and the rain poured down, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[ghostsoapwhore]

Fix the Unfixable - Part One

Chapter One: In the Crossfire

Warnings: Mention of abuse, mention of lab testing, mention of needles, mention of gunfire, a/b/o

Pairing: Task Force 141 x reader

The fluorescent lights never stop humming, at first it was irritating, driving your senses mad as the frequency continued, but soon it became soothing. The sterile laboratory that surrounded you was in constant silence, a silence that would drive anybody mad. Your new life here started three months ago. Three months of poking, prodding, and needles, and questions. The isolation here made you feel cold. The only interactions you had with people were the occasional tests, beatings, and shuffling footsteps down the corridor.

Subject 132

That’s what they called you. That’s what the sign above your little cell said in bold, black writing. You had seen it once when you were screaming and kicking trying to get out of their grasp. It was made to strip away your identity, to return you to your base form. Omega. That’s all you were to them, not a person, just a creature who they did impersonal experiments on. You were data, numbers, graphs, failures. You were the experiment.

The lab was cold. It had been from the start. It had white tile walls that managed to never get dirty, metal tables that shone in the fluorescents, and blinking monitors and whirring machines  that incessantly made noise. The lab was made so there was one main testing room, and your tiny cell attached. You were positioned so you could see only the equipment, and not the door to your left.

 The tests were made to be a routine, you had learnt this by now. First the psychological phase, where they would attempt to force you into distress. They would try to make you shut down, forcing you into your most vulnerable form so they could extract more data. Being an Omega was the only reason you were here, of course they would use your primal instincts against you. Then, followed the physiological testing. The testing was never ethical. Questions such as; “What would the omega do if we hit her?”, “How would she respond to a near death experience?”, “What would happen if she died, then came back?”. Questions they would do anything to answer,

Today. Today felt different. Today there was a nervousness in the air, the test subjects could feel it. It began with shuffling in the hallways turning into urgent yelling and shouting of orders. Then it became cells unlocking and test subjects being forced out. There was loud boots rushing the halls and equipment being dragged with people. The feeling that accompanied these noises was odd, you felt hopeful, yet terrified. A disgustingly satisfying mix.

It was strange, being truly alone. You knew you were. The smell of the other surviving omega’s had long faded. They were gone, you were forgotten. It always had to be you, huh? The building was totally and completely empty, save for the pair of footsteps approaching the door right now.

The metal door to the main lab exploded inwards without warning. There was rubble flying past the cell, some of it even into the cell, and sparks lit up the room. The sheer force of the explosion caused you to stumble slightly, with your hands raised to shield your face. Smoke filled the room, followed by your lungs. You had to bite back the urge to cough.

The smoke hadn’t cleared when the silhouettes of tall, terrifying figures coated in tactical gear stalked into the room. The shine of their gear was ominous, the now smashed fluorescent flickered above them. You watched them make strange hand signals to each other, as one moved closer to you. He stepped out of the smoke, into clear view. He was tall, rugged and bearded. His eyes were piercing and he held an air of command. This man was definitely an alpha, you knew this despite the lack of scent he carried.

“Clear the room.” His voice was deep and commanding, and the other men followed his instructions. His eyes scanned the room efficiently. “You’re Subject 132?”

It was less of a question, more of a demand. You knew he hadn’t seen the sign above the cell, which caused shivers to run down your spine. You nodded weakly, you felt paralyzed by both curiosity and fear. The other men cleared the room efficiently, it was empty, of course. You knew that already, but they had to be sure.

The smoke slowly diffused, allowing a clearer view into the room. A younger man was standing nearby. He had bright, friendly eyes as he looked at you with a light grin. He was lighter in build than the bearded man, and had a very… interesting haircut. “Hello, lass.” He beamed. He had strong Scottish accent that added to his charming appearance. “We're here tae get ye oot o' here, whit’s yer real name?” You blinked at him, once, twice. You felt tongue tied, unsure whether to tell him or not. In the time you contemplated two figures had emerged from the now dissipated smoke. The largest one of the whole group, adorning a skull mask, walked over to the cell door with some chain cutters. He made light work of the door and it swung open. If Price’s appearance said alpha, his screamed it.

The one with the mohawk entered the cell with an air of confidence, not quite enough to be an alpha though. He offered you a friendly hand as you continued to scan the last member. He was a dashing younger man, with beautiful browned skin and straight white teeth. He was smiling, talking to the bearded man once more. You gently took the mohawk man’s hand, it was warm. It was an extreme contrast to what you had called home previously.

“Ma names Soap, whit’s yours, lass?” He prodded again. You told him your name, barely a mumble. He took it upon himself to repeat it at about twenty times the original volume which caused your face to flush.

The area was secure, and the men were all standing around you now. The guy with the skull mask had a deep accent, definitely a British one, but what kind of British you had no idea. “Get her up, we need to reach evac point in ten minutes.” His voice was gruff, his tone indifferent. “He’s right.” The bearded man said. Soap pulled you up to your feet. What kind of name is Soap anyways? You could hear them talking as they began to usher you through the halls. The bearded man spoke up. “Sorry for the late introductions, I’m Captain Price.” He looked into your eyes as he spoke and walked. Your legs had to work double time to keep up with their large, and surprisingly stealthy, strides.

“The skull-mask is Lieutenant Ghost, and this is Gaz.” He slapped the young man’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble and emit a grumble from him. I nodded, staring at them. The introductions did very little to assuage the fear and confusion pulsing through your veins. You had been captive long enough that freedom was no longer a word in your vocabulary. “Come on, lass, we hae tae get oot o' here afore we're left ahint." I blinked at the Scottish man a few times, trying to translate for a second, before nodding. He’s right, we’ve got to get out.

“Hang tight, love.” Gaz spoke up from behind me. “We’ve still got some work to do on the way out, but we’ll keep you safe.”

Price and the others nodded in agreement, continuing forwards. You felt strangely vulnerable now that you were free from that cell. Once out of the lab, Price and Ghost were discussing their next mission in hushed, professional tones. There was the distant sound of gunshots and screaming. The sounds of a battle outside. It caused you to falter, paralyzed for a moment. That’s exactly why Gaz crashed straight into your back and sent you tumbling to the ground.

“Careful, love. Need you in one piece.” Price spoke up as you scrambled to your feet with the help of Gaz. “Stay close to Soap, he’s in charge of you for now.” 

It was a secret instruction, one for Soap, he nodded and immediately took his place next to you. “We’ll get through this, stay close.” He muttered. It was the most legible sentence yet!

The corridors beyond the lab were dimly lit and narrow, the walls lined with the same sterile white that surrounded you for three months. But now, as you followed the team, the oppressive atmosphere of the lab became lighter, nearing the exit.

Momentarily, you glanced over at Ghost, who was clearing the path ahead. His presence was imposing, and even though his face was hidden behind the skull mask, there was something serious and commanding about him. Definitely alpha. It was strange, you noted, that there was no indicator of anyone's status. No scents at all. You were aware that you had no scent either, the lab technicians had filled you with enough scent blockers to last three lifetimes afterall. 

When you finally emerged into the open air you squinted. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, a stark contrast to the sterile confines of the laboratory. The fresh air was a welcome assault on your senses, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. This was the most colour you had seen in a long time. The sun was beating down on you, the sand beneath your feet crunching and grinding with each step. The laboratory was in the middle of a desert all this time.

The team ushered you toward a waiting helicopter, the rhythmic thud of its blades cutting through the air as it prepared for takeoff. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost were already coordinating the extraction, their movements efficient and precise.

The feeling of freedom filled you, but a strange feeling overcame you along with it. The rescue was just the beginning. A/N: Feedback and corrections are welcome! Thank you for reading! tag list: @munsonssecretblog

[yesterdays-xkcd]

Trivia: Elaine is actually her middle name.

1337: Part 2 [Explained]

Transcript

[Cueball standing and looking down at his Cueball-like friend, who is sitting on the floor near an armchair holding a cloth to his face.]

Friend: So the greatest hacker of our era is a cookie-baking mom? Cueball: Second-greatest. Friend: Oh?

[Young Elaine with a ponytail on the floor typing at a keyboard while looking at a screen connected to a computer behind it with lots of wires and open case. The computer appears to have been pieced together and there is a screwdriver lying next to her and an open box lies behind her. Little Bobby Tables is painting with a broad brush at an easel to the left. There is a clear drawing with two parts going up and one down, but it's not easy to see what it should look like. He is holding his other hand up in the air, like he is enjoying the painting.] Cueball (narrating): Mrs. Roberts had two children. Her son, Bobby, was never much for computers, but her daughter Elaine took to them like a ring in a bell.

[The front of a car is in frame with side mirror and steering wheel visible. Mrs. Roberts is waving goodbye to her daughter who is wearing a backpack and is holding a walking stick. She is about to begin climbing a staircase built into a rocky mountain side. The first 11 step are visible. Behind the two and the stair are two distant mountain peaks, and above them two clouds.] Cueball (narrating): When Elaine turned 11, her mother sent her to train under Donald Knuth in his mountain hideaway.

[Donald Knuth is standing with a pointing stick at a chalk board with graph traversal patterns on it and two blocks of unreadable text the top may be a matrix.] Cueball (narrating): For four years she studied algorithms. Donald Knuth: Child—

[Donald Knuth whips around from the board slashing the stick like a sword. Elaine jumps, making a somersault and lands on the stick balancing with her arms out.] Donald Knuth: Why is A* search wrong in this situation? Stick: swish Elaine: Memory usage! Donald Knuth: What would you use? Elaine: Dijkstra's algorithm!

[Donald Knuth and Elaine are outside, seen from behind while they are both writing on a chalkboard with a thick line down the middle to separate their work. On both sides their writing can be seen but it is unreadable. Where there is only text visible on Donald Knuth's side there is also what appears to be a drawing or matrix at the top of Elaine's. But a similar thing could be behind Donald Knuth's head. Elaine is no longer wearing her hair in a ponytail but have long straight white hair like her mom, Mrs. Roberts. To the left there is a stump from a tree, some grass and maybe a puddle of water. Further back there is a small jagged hill and a flat horizon. To the right there are four mountain peaks and a flat high plateau towards the horizon. The frame of the panel does not include the top-left and bottom-right corners, but cuts round a rectangular section of both places.] Cueball (narrating): Until one day she bested her master Donald Knuth: So our lower bound here is O(n log n) Elaine: Nope. Got it in O(n log (log n)) Cueball (narrating): And left.

[mariacallous]

Let’s say you just searched Google to learn more about this new AI Overview feature that everyone’s talking about. If your query triggers an AI Overview—and not every query will—then you might see an AI-generated summary of this very article at the top of your results. These new AI Overviews in Google Search present users with AI-generated answers to queries that are culled from information on the web, and they’re presented in a way that gives you the answer you seek without ever requiring you to click on a web link or even learn the names of the publications that the AI used as sources.

Google has already released a nascent version of AI Overviews within something called the Search Generative Experience, but it was only available to users who opted in. However, at the company’s I/O developer conference this week, Google announced that the newly renamed AI Overviews is now receiving a wider launch; everyone in the US who uses Google to search the web or ask a question will now see AI Overviews at the top of their results—again, if their question can be answered by a summary.

Can I Turn Off AI Overviews?

What if you’d rather just see web links? Unfortunately, AI Overviews are baked into the default search results page now. You can’t opt out of seeing them in your results. While there’s no way to fully disable AI Overviews for your Google account, there are a couple of methods you can use to get a search results page filled with web links.

First, there's the manual method of selecting a special filtered view after each individual query. After landing on the search result page topped with the AI Overview, click on the More tab—it should now appear among other filter options like Images, Videos, Shopping—and click Web. You’ll see a results page just showing links to actual websites.

Second, you can install a browser extension that automatically forces this web-only view of the search results page. Developers have been hard at work since I/O; there are already options available for Chrome and Vivaldi, as well as add-ons for Firefox. Other browsers will likely get extensions soon.

What's in an AI Overview?

When can you expect your query to trigger an AI-generated summary of the results? “AI Overviews appear for complex queries,” says Mallory De Leon, a Google spokesperson. “You'll find AI Overviews in your Google Search results when our systems determine that generative AI can be especially helpful–for example, when you want to quickly understand information from a range of sources.” During my initial tests, it felt like the AI Overviews popped up almost at random for queries, and the summaries appeared for simple questions as well as more complicated asks.

According to De Leon, the AI Overview is powered by a customized version of Google’s Gemini model that’s supplemented with aspects of the company’s Search system, like the Knowledge Graph that has billions of general facts.

One of my core hesitations about this feature as it rolls out is the continued potential for AI hallucinations, more commonly known as lies. When you interact with Google’s Gemini chatbot, a disclaimer at the bottom reads: “Gemini may display inaccurate info, including about people, so double-check its responses.” There’s no such disclaimer added to the bottom of the AI Overview, which often simply reads, “Generative AI is experimental.”

When asked why there’s no mention of potential hallucinations for AI Overviews, De Leon emphasizes that Google wants to still offer high-quality search results and mentions that the company did adversarial red-teaming tests to uncover potential weak points for the feature.

“This implementation of generative AI is rooted in Search’s core quality and safety systems, with built-in guardrails to prevent low-quality or harmful information from surfacing,” she says. “AI Overviews are designed to highlight information that can be easily verified by the supporting information that we surface.”

Knowing this, you might still want to click through the webpage links to double-check that the information is actually correct. Though it’s hard to imagine many users, who are often looking for quick answers, will spend extra time reading over the source material for Google’s AI-generated answer.

Liz Reid, Google’s head of Search, recently told my colleague Lauren Goode that AI Overviews are expected to arrive for countries outside of the United States before the end of 2024, so over a billion people will likely soon encounter this new feature. As someone whose job relies on readers actually clicking links and spending time reading the articles, of course I’m apprehensive about this change—and I’m not alone.

Beyond concerns from publishers, it also remains unclear what additional impacts might trickle down to users from Google’s AI Overviews. Yes, OpenAI’s ChatGPT and other AI tools are quite popular in Silicon Valley tech circles, but this feature will likely expose billions of people, who have never used a chatbot before, to AI-generated text. Even though AI Overviews are designed to save you time, they might lead to less trustworthy results.

[gender-trash]

okay i AM going to turn reblogs off for this one --

i think we need to talk more about the collective trauma of being part of an online community that a different online community is directing coordinated, nonstop harassment towards. this is the part of the post i am so close to deleting or leaving in the drafts, because i'm (still!) anticipating anon asks like, how dare YOU, an asexual, compare YOUR experience to that of REAL queer people -- and i have no experience of being a transfeminine person on tumblr but i get the impression it is way way worse than aphobia was at its height. but like -- the experience of having your queer subcommunity harassed sucks! hardcore sucks! and has a variety of shitty knock-on effects on the health of the community! and i wanna commiserate with other people who've had that experience!

(also, i can't stand the sj "how dare you compare bad thing A to bad thing B when B is clearly much worse" rhetorical move. sometimes bad things are bad in similar ways and it's useful to talk about that similarity without necessarily making any claims about relative severity.)

i also think we need better tools and mental models for thinking of harassment as not just a one-to-one relationship, but a many-to-many relationship -- "moderation" as a concept seems to exclusively deal with individual posts or at best individual accounts, when, like. the social graph exists; clustering algorithms exist; i don't trust their reliability enough to want to bring down the website banhammer on anyone in a particular cluster, but i would absolutely fucking love a "block this blog and everyone within three degrees of separation of them" button. or something along those lines -- hey, i'm just spitballing here. a mental model of bad actors on a website as not just individual bad actors, but badly-acting communities with internal dynamics.

in every community of recreational bullies i've ever closely observed on tumblr (terfs, truscum, aphobes, various flavors of shipping drama), the following dynamics are present:

members of the community socially reward other members for engaging in harassment, and encourage new members to engage in harassment

members of the community screenshot and pass around often-equally-rude responses from the people they're harassing, as "proof" that these people are Incredibly Harmful and therefore the harassment is Morally Good, even Important, and that the harassing community are actually embattled victims valiantly fighting the oppressor

usually an Opposition Community forms, with the mission of harassing the bully community and exactly the same group dynamics, and the "original" bullies + opposition bullies become a self-sustaining feedback loop of harassment, because each group is constantly giving the other one more material to pass around and rile themselves up with

each community forms an incredibly specific and characteristic dialect of shorthand language that updates frequently as the community they're harassing gets wise and starts blacklisting keywords (when i was most recently on a terf blocking spree, "febfem", "TiM", and "moid" were big ones). engaged community members rapidly become unable to interact with anyone who is not Very Online, isolating them so that the community is now their main social circle

eventually the community comes up with some chain of reasoning, no matter how strained, for calling the objects of their hatred pedophiles

occasionally someone in the community will actually Go Too Far and bring down the banhammer on themselves. they remake their blog within days or weeks (due to the profit incentives of running a social media website, users are sucked into becoming hopelessly addicted -- especially users who are in so deep that they can no longer figure out how talk to people who aren't up on the Incredibly Specific Group Vocabulary). they are promptly passed around as a martyr

you'll notice that the main forces that keep the feedback loop going are a feeling of victimization -- if you feel like you're a righteous, oppressed victim, then you can justify little a death threat as a treat against the evil outgroup who is oppressing you, right? -- a community that rewards its members socially both for harassing others and for being harassed, and isolationist tendencies that make it difficult for community members to get social reward anywhere other than within the community.

it seems that, if you want to be able to deal with a group like this, you need to have some strategy for countering those forces -- whereas conventional moderation efforts mostly feed into the victimization mindset. maybe you need to somehow wall off the harassing community and the responding opposition harassers from each other, so that as far as each group is concerned the other one doesn't exist. maybe you need better tools so users with the characteristics that the harassing community targets can block the entire harassing community all at once. i don't actually know! but i doubt we're going to get anywhere without at least a basic understanding of system dynamics!!

[dailyhelldorm]

Welcome Fes! Learn more about Hell Dorm in the room 'finding your favorite' ♪

About your idols

Shiratori Aira - Loveliness has thorns

Agency: STARMAKER PRODUCTION

Height: 167cm

Weight: 53kg

Blood type: B

Birthday: 27/11

Hobby: Studying about idols

Specialty: Knowledge about idols

Aira is a fresh face in the idol industry, debuted along with his fellow members in the unit 'ALKALOID'. He is the one responsible for the 'cute' role in the unit, but even the loveliness also has thorns! Aira is very passionate about his hobby of studying idols and he helps a lot of people with his idols knowledge.

Aira is the only child in his family, and he joins the basketball club at his high school too! A little small fact about Aira is that he isn't good at cleaning up after himself.

Idols hashtags: ♯Cute ♯Only child ♯From athletic club ♯Not good at cleaning up after himself

Tenshouin Eichi - The idol conductor performing dreams

Agency: STARMAKER PRODUCTION

Height: 179cm

Weight: 59kg

Blood type: O

Birthday: 10/1

Hobby: Collecting teacups

Specialty: Ballroom dance

From the high heaven above, Eichi is the leader of the angelic unit 'fine'. He is an intellectual person, good at everything he does and Eichi has the ability to mimic any skill he sees for the first time! He is the only heir of the famous Tenshouin Foundation and his family is part of the noble families, along with the Himemiya - Suou - Tomoe families.

His hobby is collecting teacups, and he likes to make tea in his free time. In high school, Eichi formed the tea club along with Sakuma Ritsu - Rei's younger brother, which lately extended to their circle FLAVOR.

A little fact about Eichi, he is left-handed!

Idols hashtags: ♯Intellectual ♯Only child ♯Left-handed ♯Heir ♯From art club

Sakuma Rei - The demon king tempting in the dark

Agency: Rhythm Link

Height: 179cm

Weight: 61kg

Blood type: B

Birthday: 2/11

Hobby: Strolling in the garden

Specialty: Jazz dance

The demon king tempting his fans in the black night, the self-proclaiming mysterious vampire, Sakuma Rei is the cool leader of the unit 'UNDEAD'. He is the only one in the dorm room whose agency is different. Rei possesses an irresistible charisma, and he is a world-wide-known top idol.

He also has a little brother - Sakuma Ritsu - who he loves and dotes on very much, to the point that his brother finds him annoying.

Rei is well-versed in a lot of things and is good at everything. In high school, together with Ogami Koga and the Aoi twins, they formed the light music club and later, extended to their circle BB Band.

A small fact about Rei, he has a driving license and knows how to ride a motorbike.

Idols hashtags: ♯Cool ♯Big bro ♯Has driving license ♯From art club

Q&A Corner: Learn more about the dorm!

Q1: On the first date, where do you want to go?

Aira: I want to bring my date to see the lottery premiere of my favorite movie! To bring us closer and learn more about each other, won't that be the perfect chance?

Eichi: You would want to make a good memory of your first date, right. How about letting me bring my date to a place that has beautiful scenery they can enjoy freely?

Rei: I will invite my date to my favorite jazz club. We can enjoy an atmosphere that's different from normal life, and they can listen to my favorite songs ♪

Here is a graph for their first date question! All of them are indoor-type, but Aira and Rei really like to be inside. Rei and Eichi are more of the leading type, with Eichi leading more than Rei, while Aira likes to enjoy the time together!

Q2: Your favorite subject?

Aira: I got bad grades, so I don't really have a favorite subject. It would be great if all the classes turned into idols' lessons, I wish.

Eichi: When studying, I don't confine my range of knowledge but try to master a lot of different fields and learn every day. You can say that every subject is my favorite.

Rei: No matter if it is an art class or a science lesson, I'm good at every subject ♪ However, when you talk about my knowledge, I feel that I have been accumulating more humanities knowledge.

You can see here that Eichi and Rei are on the same spectrum of being good at literary subjects and both have good grades. They also overlap each other and it depends on the idol you pick first that you will see that Rei or Eichi has better grades. While Aira is bad at studying, but he can do okay in science class.

Note:

They are on the same level of academic grades and both are good at art subjects. In the original, they overlap each other.

Because both Rei and Eichi are in the same spot, so it depends on your order when picking your favorites, their position on the ‘Good grades’ axis will change.

In the second chart without the original position, the blue line is the position of the first idol you pick (in my case, I picked Eichi first). The red line is the position of the second idol you pick (in my case, I picked Rei second).

The image when you pick Rei first belongs to childeslav on Twitter/X. Sorry for the broken pixels but I had to rescale it to make the comparison.

Q3: As a member of your unit, what was the last email you sent?

Aira: Our 'unit' talked about the next time going out together, about where we should go and I had sent a lot of suggestions. The four of us planned to discuss our destination and we would decide later!

Eichi: While we were contacting each other about our work, I had invited everyone to have tea with me. Instead of spending my time alone, spending it with everyone feels more relaxing.

Rei: I finished my work and I contacted everyone saying I would get some eye rest. And thanks to the message, Kaoru-kun had come and woken me up ♪

A graph showing the frequency of mailing and the content of their texting. Both Eichi and Rei don't text much while Aira texts a lot. Eichi texts seriously, and Aira often sends silly things. Rei is in the middle of them with both being silly and being serious.

Q4: Recently, what is the first thing you do after waking up?

Aira: I always unconsciously touch my smartphone. I'd get instantly wide awake whenever I find the merch I want is being sold on the flea market.

Eichi: I often check for the news or the received messages during my night sleep. I want to spend my time more leisurely, but when you are busy, time surely keeps flying away.

Rei: I first have to pick up my eye mask that has fallen on the ground. I use it so I can sleep better, but lately it keeps falling away.

A graph showing how they are going to wake up. Both Aira and Rei like to chill and can't get out of their bed. While Eichi is an early bird.

Q5: Why are you so cool?

Aira: It is a little bit embarrassing... Maybe it is because of 'ALKALOID''s color? I think it is possible that you can attract people with the color!

Eichi: Fufu, thank you for your praise. One can't let their fans see them in a disturbing appearance, and I want to look good naturally.

Rei: Being cute, being cool. It's only because I'm an idol that people give me the words of assessment for the ways I show myself ♪

Here is a graph to show you how they are going to react!

Aira isn't used to being praised and he gets embarrassed because of it, while both Eichi and Rei are used to it and happily receive the praise! The graph also shows Rei and Eichi are overlapping. Rei is used to being praised more than Eichi in this below comparison.

Becoming your ‘Favorites’ video messages!

Eichi: Yah, I am Tenshouin Eichi, the leader of 'fine'. I also work as a representative of STARMAKER PRODUCTION, every day I give my best effort to send the brilliance of idols to the world. Of course, as an idol myself, I don't forget to shine as brightly as I can. If you are intrigued, please come to my live and see my figure. After that, if you choose me to be your favorite, I promise I will show you what you want to see the most. If you are to support me, I will be overjoyed.

Aira: Hello! I am Shiratori Aira from 'ALKALOID'! I love, love, love idols so much, and I want to become the person who brings joy to others just like the idols I admire so much. I also am a fan, and I understand it is not easy to pick a person as your favorite... But please, please pick me as your favorite idol!

Rei: I'm Sakuma Rei, the leader of 'UNDEAD'. With this message, you have the chance to learn more about me, and I thank you for that. To learn about me, how about we talk about the thing I like? Firstly, I have a younger brother, who is the apple of my eye, my cute Ritsu. And I like to stroll around the garden too. Although I don't like to go out at the time when the sun is still high, and my heart feels at ease more when I walk around at quiet times like early morning or in the middle of the night... ♪ They are some basic things, but that's all. If you are going to support me I'm happy, but if you simply take an interest in UNDEAD then I also am thrilled ♪

[borderlinebox]

I saw your requests were open for Valentine's (or regular) stuff; could I possibly request Chishiya revealing he likes reader by giving them some kind of gift on Valentine's day, in his usual, logical Chishiya way? And could reader be portrayed as short (around 5'3"), shy, with a mild temper? Can be gender neutral and pre or post Borderland, if not that's okay too, but I thought I wouldn't hurt to ask!

‣ Present

pairing ; chishiya x reader | warning ; not proofread!, fluff, location/timeline is generalized!, short, two idiots pining, awkwarf yet cute confession, mildly ooc!Chishiya | a/n ; i didnt know what to do with the ending but i think it's still cute!thanks for requesting anon! requests are still open!♥

feedback is appreciated!!!

"Here." Chishiya muttered bluntly, not even bothering to look at you as he raised his arm, the other in his pocket, and handed you something in the grasp of his hands.

You have been friends with Chishiya for a while now, you can't remember how long but you already understood how he works and how he processes information. And this was rarely out of character of him. But you didn't dare to say anything.

He looked towards your opposite direction, not allowing you to see the cute pout on his usually nonchalant face. "Take it before I change my mind."

Immediately, you took the weirdly nicely-wrapped present and fumbled with it before he may do true to his word.

The box was beautifully wrapped with an adoring piece of gift wrapping paper for Valentines - Mostly red decorated with small white hearts all over. Even the ribbon was white and elegantly tied.

True, you were astonished by his gesture and the perfect looking present - which shouldn't exactly bother you cause, come on, it's Chishiya. He practically makes perfect handmade weaponry. Aside from that, you were still quite shocked.

"Thank you..?" You hesitated, confused. It sounded meek and small.

Untying the cream colored ribbon, you opened the lid to the gift box and was surprisingly gifted with..

A math equation.

Your brows furrowed as a cute perplexed look came onto your face. You decided to flip the equation upside down even though you kind of already expected that nothing would come out of it. It wasn't even that one infamous 'i <3 u' quote.

Before you could even speak, Chishiya turned around and took the piece of paper out of your hold. He took a red pen out of his jacket and uncapped it before beginning to flip the card and draw.

There seemed to be an empty graph at the back of the paper.

"You see, n/n.." He started and drew some kind of curve. "The equation into a graph line looks like this."

Chishiya handed you the card, seemingly impressed with himself, being the cocky bastard that he is as he placed the cap back onto the pen with a satisfying click.

Still confused, you took the paper out of his hands, box completely forgotten as you unknowingly held it in your other hand. Once you saw the graph, you couldn't hold back the small 'Awh' that threatened to escape your throat.

A bright smile came to your fave as you admired the red ink.

The graph formed a heart.

"I guess I.." Chishiya glances away again. You look at his silence and notice that he wants to say something, a look you were all too familiar with of which you recognized as yourself.

This time, you were gonna take the lead. If he broke character than so should you, for at least this once.

"I think it's lovely." You smiled sweetly, coaxing him to say or look at you with just those words of affirmation. Fingers held the card close to your chin, almost covering your mouth in anxiety. "Is this a..?"

You gestured at the card, wanting to confirm it's purpose.

"It doesn't have to be.."

"It is. It is.. what it is." Chishiya nodded his head with confirmation, brave enough to tell you so but not yet enough to really tell you what it really is. "A card. On Valentine's Day."

You gave him a quick and nervous nod before glancing away and finding the right words to say, afraid of what he would think if you didn't choose the right ones. With a bead of sweat later, you gathered the courage to muster up to the bleach blonde.

Chishiya understood and knew you were intelligent as well, maybe not as much as him, but you were smarter than average. He just clinged onto that shred of hope that you knew what he was saying.

And he was internally pleased to hear those words he needed to hear come out of your mouth.

"I, I like you too."

[moonwatchuniverse]

December 15, 1966... End of Gemini The final three Gemini crews, X, XI and XII celebrated the end-of-program Gemini at Cocoa Beach in Florida. From left-to-right: Michael Collins, John Young, Charles Conrad, Richard Gordon, James Lovell and Edwin Aldrin. Note, while Aldrin wore his NASA-issued Omega Speedmaster chronograph,  both Collins and Lovell wore their personal Rolex pilot wrist watch, respectively a Turn-O-Graph and GMT-master 1675 “Pepsi”. (Photo: NASA S66-24172)

[tgrailwar-zero]

The winning choice was RIDER.

The cards fanned out, leaving only that one behind. You see a potential future with five Servants... it's up to you to choose the one that will accompany you on your journey, should you choose an Standard-Class Servant. If you choose instead to pursue a Extra-class Servant as your ally, this Servant may very well become your enemy...

Those Servants are, as follows:

Medusa

A Servant standing on the line between 'Divine Spirit' and 'Demonic Beast'. Despite her poor luck, her incredible speed and strength put most other Heroic Spirits to shame, as well as her incredibly dangerous Noble Phantasms. As an Anti-Hero, she may be prone to act in her own interests at times, however.

Strength: B

Endurance: D

Agility: A

Mana: B

Luck: E

NP: A+

Starting Health: 5

Starting Mana: 9

Constantine XI

A proud emperor and kind soul. While his Servant statistics may be considered middling in a general sense, he himself serves as a defensive powerhouse, being able to take large amounts of damage- and further strengthen himself and others. The definition of a 'team player' and 'tank', his values and valor shine brightly.

Strength: C

Endurance: A

Agility: C

Mana: D

Luck: C

NP: EX

Starting Health: 11

Starting Mana: 5

[ SERVANT DATA ERROR ]

SERVANT CANNOT BE PROPERLY SUMMONED. PLEASE PICK FROM ONE OF THE OTHER OPTIONS.

Saint Georgios

A saint known for slaying dragons. Everything about his being as a Servant calls out to incredible defense and longevity on the battlefield, turning most battles against him into battles of attrition. However, with an impressive magical mount and blade, he combines the best attributes of both a saint and a knight.

Strength: D

Endurance: A+

Agility: C++

Mana: D

Luck: A+

NP: C

Starting Health: 12

Starting Mana: 5

Dobrynya Nikitich

An epic hero known throughout Russia, who bravely slew the dragon Zmei Gorynych. However… there seems to be a bit of an oddity within Dobrynya's Saint Graph, causing her to manifest as a brave warrior woman that more closely resembles Nastasia Mikulishna, Nikitich's wife, rather than the bogatyr Dobrynya Nikitich as recorded in legend…

Strength: A+

Endurance: C

Agility: B

Mana: C

Luck: A+

NP: B

Starting Health: 7

Starting Mana: 7

[lactating]

SB has begun corresponding with NG! SB: hi girlie the dragon's trucks got slowed so i got a free minute to spare check out this edit i made of my box of evil light SB sent an attachment: troxler_fancam.png is it possible to have strange attachments to strange objects scratch that i know how you feel about your magic wand whats up with you NG: oh my dearly belabored ally how i have missed you in these few short hours apart! NG: the dragon keeps us from hanging out forever NG: i really like the box of evil light; youre out there helping turn the world hard and fast but not firm and pleasant SB: country girls & corn latly ive been thinking about like Okay what else can you apply the Fourier transform to a fellow engineer i mentioned SB's and NG's, et al.'s, Special Idea about the Nature of the Universe and the Matter of Fourier Transforms Okay thats a half truth i just asked him about the fourier transform and he said "oh like in sound engineering and videography" and in that moment i realized just how many standard deviations away from the norm i am i wonder if you could plot our standard deviation-ness on a graph and plot it and then do the fourier transform on that and reverse-engineer NG: im a fan of reverse-engineering, myself like the nature of our abnormality vís a vís ideas and their special-ness NG: you could call it a skill and give it a silly name like "MAN WHO THINKS CRIME IS FUNNY-O-METER" or the more tasteful "GIDDINESS MATRIX" or the slightly more correct "PATTERN SPOTTING ABILITY THAT HAS BEEN TAKEN TO PERHAPS A MORE LOGICAL EXTREME THEN IS APT, HOWEVER I'M THE NAME OF A SKILL, YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT FOREVER" SB: call it the scholars ambition the curious acquisition the derangement-tion the derangnemition? the degranmitomiton? NG: casting a spell of lunacy upon you from my derangmitomiton MAY YOU ALWAYS SEE THE PATTERN, MAY YOU NEVER BE ABLE TO COMMIUNICATE IT SB: not my G19 ass seeing the pattern and then using the fourier transform on the pattern to make quick and soundly logical intuitions on the nature of whatever the pattern appears to me to be that day sometimes i point out the taxonomy of clouds to the dragon-workers they seem to like it every one in fifteen will get a childish, like genuinely child like wonder at suddenly having the name of something hes seen for so long reveled to him in an instant, like when you realize the world is so vast and you've been getting ever so smaller within it, but then BOO! you're shattered, taken outside yourself from a strange looking fellow wielding a box of radiation that you're slightly jealous about watching having to do so little work while you sit, in the dragons' stomach, surrounded by three hundreds of degrees of asphalt NG: boo! and suddenly, you're real! suddenly you realize that you work for these long hours because you don't know what else to do with yourself, you realize you're scared and you let someone else tell you where and how to point your athame, and suddenly all you really want to do is lie on a hillside and watch clouds and slowly learn all of their names, so you can say "hello cumulus! hello cirrus!" and have them wave back at your, in their own silly little cloudy way.

#65: keep corresponding >

[thepastisalreadywritten]

“Hello Mother, Dad, and Blanche,” a quiet voice says above the cracks and pops of an old vinyl record, which has clearly been played many times over.

“How’s everything at home? I’m recording this from Dallas…from this very little place where there are pinball machines and many other things like that…”

The disc is small, seven inches across, dated October 1954.

The faded green label shows that the speaker’s name is “Gene,” the recording addressed to “Folks.”

Gene suggests in his minute-long message that he is traveling — “seeing America” — and tells his family not to worry about him.

“I should complete my trip sometime around Thanksgiving,” he continues in a second recording made in Hot Springs, Texas, not too long after his first one.

“I hope you received my letter and I, in turn, hope to receive some of the letters that you sent me. It’s been a very long time since we’ve corresponded, and I’m looking forward to hearing from you very, very much.”

This largely forgotten sound is one of the world’s early “voice mails.”

During the first half of the 20th century, these audio letters and other messages were recorded largely in booths, pressed onto metal discs and vinyl records, and mailed in places all over the world.

Best known today for playing music at home, record players were then being used as a means of communication over long distances.

Reach out and touch someone

The idea of transporting a person’s voice had loomed large in the human imagination for some three centuries before it was finally achieved with the invention of the phonograph in the late 19th century.

Historical documents from the Qing Dynasty in 16th-century China suggest the existence of a mysterious device called the “thousand-mile speaker,” a wooden cylinder that could be spoken into and sealed, such that the recipient could still hear the reverberations when opening it back up.

Top: A Kodisk horn and recording stylus attachment in the Princeton Phono-Post Archive was used in the early 1920s for home recordings on pre-grooved blank metal discs using a normal gramophone.

Bottom: A Gem Recordmaker attachment at the Princeton Phono-Post Archive was used in the 1950s for children to "make your own permanent records" on blank six-inch discs using their own gramophone at home.

When Thomas Edison invented the phonograph in 1877, he envisioned a device that could reproduce music and even preserve languages.

He saw, in its earliest uses, the potential to transform business, education, and timekeeping.

He even imagined a so-called “Family Record” — a “registry of sayings, reminiscences, etc., by members of a family in their own voices and of the last words of dying persons.”

But correspondence was at the top of his mind: Edison thought his invention could be used for dictation and letter writing.

In the late 19th century, handwritten letters were the most common form of everyday personal communication.

The telegram, which later became popular in the early 1900s, was used for shorter, urgent messages.

While Alexander Graham Bell made the first transcontinental telephone call from New York to San Francisco in 1915, long-distance calling remained expensive and inaccessible to most ordinary people until the 1950s.

Voice-O-Graph

The gramophone, a later form of the phonograph developed by Emile Berliner in 1887, provided a first possibility for recorded sound being used for long distance communication.

It made recording and playback possible on discs, which were easier to store, reproduce, and send.

The earliest known record to have been put in the mail as a means of correspondence would be sent in the early 1920s, but the practice of sending voice mail really got going across the world in the 1930s and 1940s.

It was personal and affordable as long as customers could find a recording booth or home device.

In the early 1940s, the American company Mutoscope rolled out the Voice-O-Graph machine, which vastly popularized voice mail in the United States.

It was a tall wooden cabinet, shaped not unlike a modern-day photo booth, that declared, on one side: RECORD YOUR OWN VOICE!

Invented by Alexander Lissiansky, these recording booths were marketed as novelties and set up at common gathering places: amusement parks, boardwalks, tourist attractions, transportation hubs, military bases and U.S.O. events.

There was a Voice-O-Graph machine at the top of the Empire State Building, on the piers of San Francisco, and by the Mississippi River in New Orleans.

The speaker entered the Voice-O-Graph, inserted a couple of coins, and had a few minutes to record a message.

Then, out popped a record the size of a 45-rpm single that was not only durable enough to be played multiple times, but also flimsy and lightweight enough to send in the mail for little more than the cost of a regular letter.

Oftentimes, the envelopes themselves would come included.

Top: A soldier sends a Christmas greeting to his mother in Chicago.

The envelope, which came with the record, depicts a soldier anxiously imagining his wife with another man in his absence (Princeton Phono-Post Archive).

Bottom: Pre-grooved metal discs were used for domestic gramophone recordings in the early 1920s.

The paper sleeve illustrates the two methods of recording: one, depicted on the right, involved using a megaphone to shout into the phonograph's horn; the other method, depicted on the left, involved using a Kodisk-branded external horn and recording stylus, which would be attached to one's home gramophone and is shown in another image above (Princeton Phono-Post Archive).

Top: A “Recordio” home-recording demonstration disc from the 1940s illustrating five different models of radio-recording-playback consoles made by the Wilcox-Gay Corporation, ranging from massive living-room consoles to portable “airplane type” suitcase versions (Princeton Phono-Post Archive).

Bottom: Wilcox-Gay Recordio demonstration picture disc featuring the violinist and radio star David Rubinoff (1897-1986) and his $100,000 Stradivarius making a recording at home (Princeton Phono-Post Archive).

Photographs by Rebecca Hale, NGM Staff

Words of love

The messages people sent would range in emotion — from excitement to nervousness, joy to embarrassment.

Travelers would make recordings to update family and friends on long trips.

Especially during World War II, where there were recording booths on military bases in nearly every theater of the conflict, soldiers used voice mail to reassure loved ones with the sound of their voice, even if some them would never return home.

There are countless “voice mail valentines,” surprisingly intimate audio love letters.

Many of the messages, sent from far away, express longing.

“You keep your chin up,” a voice named Leland tells his wife in a recording dated 1945, from a booth in New York City.

“All of you keep those chins up. Mike, all of us will all be home, be home where we can pick up, and carry on as we did before.”

In one recording made in Argentina in the 1940s, a man plays the violin before he recites a lullaby.

“Sleep, sleep my darling girl,” the man says. “It’s getting late.”

Phono-Post archive

Back then, families could listen to the messages on repeat — gathering together around the record player whenever one arrived.

They could play it proudly again anytime there were guests, but with each play, the needle would scrape away at the delicate grooves until the message could hardly be heard any longer.

Today at Princeton University, professor and media theorist Thomas Levin is dedicated to preserving these sounds of the past.

He maintains the world’s only archive dedicated to what he calls the “Phono-Post.”

At the height of the phenomenon, there were perhaps thousands of Voice-O-Graph machines in America and many more recording stations across the world.

“Millions of these audio letters were sent across the United States, South America, in Europe, in Russia, in China,” Levin says.

Levin’s office is crammed with many of the items he has collected over the years, including books, posters, and other ephemera—as well as, of course, the records themselves.

Levin has already digitized some 3,000 of the discs, all of which are tucked into clear plastic sleeves and carefully catalogued.

He keeps them filed into cabinets and stackable storage bins in a temperature-controlled room.

Thousands more records lie waiting to be processed in a nearly seven-year backlog that keeps growing as Levin continues collecting.

He employs AI bots that constantly comb through eBay pages and bid for items on his behalf.

Sometimes, he will come across people selling, knowingly or unknowingly, the voice of a relative.

“I write to them and I say, you’re selling the voice of your grandfather?’” Levin says.

“There’s not a sense of the value of the voice, such that people are willing to part with these objects.”

Still, he offers to share an MP3 file of the recording with them, and for that, they are often very grateful.

Voices of the Past

For the most part, there aren’t many celebrity voices stashed away in the Princeton Phono-Post Archive.

“The bulk of the recordings in this archive are of very unextraordinary people articulating desires, wishes, fantasies, of a very quotidian sort,” Levin says.

They are enormously telling, if one is willing to listen closely.

Much like paper letters, these audio missives can also reveal insights about particular moments in history through the accounts of individual lives lived within them, but with added layers of sensory detail.

Historical linguists are particularly interested in “voice mail” because it provides some of the earliest-ever recorded samples of how regular people spoke — their conversational vocabulary, their pronunciation and accents, their sentence structure, their intonation.

“There’s no editing. There’s no cleaning up,” Levin says. “Once the recording starts, it will run until it ends, whether you have something to say or not.”

He smiled. “If you don’t have anything to say, that says something too.”

The advent of cassette tapes in the 1960s meant that services like the Voice-O-Graph quickly fell out of fashion.

(For a few decades, people were sending long distance messages on audiocassettes, too — a practice that became particularly common for U.S. soldiers deployed in the Vietnam War.)

But this voice mail phenomenon, while short-lived, holds a significant place in the history of global communication.

“What we’re recovering now are the remnants of a chapter of media history, a cultural practice, that was huge, ubiquitous,” Levin says, “but has now been forgotten.”

For many people, these recordings were the first time they had ever recorded their own voice.

They sound nervous, even awkward, while others even sound like they are reading from a piece of paper.

Some, when faced with their very first self-recording, confronted the realization that they were leaving a highly personal trace that would likely outlive them.

“People strangely, but with remarkable regularity, talk about death,” Levin says.

“They’re writing to a future.” He pauses. “And one thing is known about that future: that they will not be a part of it.”

[medichamcham]

I'm curious, do you write fanfics? If so, where do you post?

AH!!! i've been meaning to for the past few years but i just can't seem to find the confidence for it... i have a lot of difficulty articulating my thoughts ;-; but i do have a whole bunch of unfinished stuff in google docs though!! and i am going to keep trying until i have something worth posting!!!!!!!! >:O

i don't know when it will happen, but i WILL post fics someday... i promise !!!!!!! should that happen, it'll be on ao3 for sure!! <3

actually you know what. you made me recall a thing i pulled out of my ass a month ago HAHAHA i totally forgot about it.

its rough and unfinished but the general concept is giovanni and rose running outside through a rainstorm at night while holding hands ;u; hopefully it's worth your time to read! :')

"Oh, it's going to be all night..."

Rose purses his lips, looking down on his phone with knit brows. Tiny drops of rain roll down the screen, dampening the President's thumb.

The pair stand underneath a large tree, temporarily shielding themselves from Mother Nature.

"Hm."

Giovanni glances over, taking note of the upcoming storm predicted on today's weather forecast. He hums a short note, a noise more of acknowledgement rather than vexation.

The Boss sees the rain worsening fast, gentle drops turning harsh and darkening the air outside. He savours the petrichor, a scent of loamy ground, his chest puffing through a deep breath.

Giovanni doesn't mind the rain as much as Rose does. His trench coat is made to stand through unforgiving weather; April showers included.

But it also seems that the rain silences everything around him, drowning it out in the literal sense. A quiet environment means a quiet head, and a quiet head means a clear mind.

"The worst will pass in about twenty minutes," Rose suggests, skimming through the updated graph. "I really don't like waiting, but—"

"Then we won't."

Giovanni sets the fedora over his head, teeth bared in his classic smirk.

"The rain will fall on us either way," he shrugs. "How far is the station again?"

"Uh," Rose mumbles. "Ten minutes from here on foot."

"I see," Giovanni nods, eyeing the streets barely lit by a few lamps. "If we make a run for it, perhaps we could make it in five."

Rose snorts, locking his phone and tucking it away.

"An ambitious notion..."

"Nonsense," Giovanni huffs, waving a dismissive hand. He teases Rose, a man as delicate as the name. "Come on, Mr. President. It's about time to get your blood pumping."

Before Rose could open his mouth to complain about his outfit getting soaked and risking a cold, his body is yanked forward and he stumbles into a hasty sprint over the deserted pavement, following right behind Giovanni, whom has his pale hand firmly locked over his wrist.

"Hey!" Rose laughs over the timely splashes of their shoes plunging into puddles. "I can't run that fast!"

Giovanni simply ignores Rose and drags him through the night, their silhouettes bolting underneath the streetlamps like phantoms in the corner of one's eye.

They feel the rain already seeping through their coats and sticking to their shoulders underneath all the layers. There's a flash illuminating the sky and the rumble of thunder, as if Zapdos has come to unleash its wrath from above.

So they continue to run and run, reining the cold from settling into their skin...

[tessathegamefreak]

So, Tessa. Remember when I sent you the ask involving Nala fighting her green-eyed state?

Well, now it's the Next Generation AU cast's turn!

What would their reactions be and what would they do to calm her down and help her.

Please note that two certain characters won't be able to help her, but I'd like to see their reactions!

Also, sometimes, while trying to fight her green-eyed state, Nala would feel an extreme pain shoot from her head to the rest of her body.

(Ah, now a new cast will be a fun one! It will definitely shake things up! Because this list is already very long, I will limit this to the children themselves)

[P.S. Sorry for the wait. There are a lot of children whose reactions I had to figure out]

Tootsie Fluggerbutter (daughter of Taffyta×Rancis): She would easily be the most concerned of all the children. She would be extremely scared for Nala, and she'd want to help calm her, but she herself would be more than too nervous to be of proper help.

Autumn Orangeboar (daughter of Candlehead×Gloyd): She is an easygoing, but not a very bright child. She'd probably try and calm her by having her sit down first, and figure it out from there.

Pepo "Fun-Sized" Orangeboar (son of Candlehead×Gloyd): Being one of the youngest children, he has little emotional intelligence. He'd probably place a toy by her side, hoping playing with it would make her feel better.

Sabrosita Chamoy-Bing-Bing (older daughter of Jubileena×OC Lord Lucas Chamoy-Amargo): She is the wiser of the children. She'd try and instruct Nala through some breathing exercises, until she successfully represses Distortia.

Cerecita Chamoy-Bing-Bing (younger daughter of Jubileena×Lucas): She is the most aggressive of the children, so she struggles with her own emotions. She'd probably point Nala to her big sister since she is very helpful with that stuff, and that's where Sabrosita comes into play.

Jolly-O Wipplesnit (son of Sticky×Swizzle): At first, he won't take Nala's green-eyed state seriously. As a weeb, he'll think her alter-ego is some very cool anime character trait. Then he'll realize this is serious AND too much for him.

Telrina L'amato (twin daughter of Crumbelina×OC Giul L'amato): She is usually a self-centered child, but she can't deny that she feels bad whenever someone is having a breakdown. She goes over and, reluctantly, hugs Nala.

Kaffe L'amato (twin son of Crumbelina×Giul): He prefers to let actions speak louder than words. If there happens to be a piano in the premise, he'll go over to it and attempt to play Nala a calming tune. Otherwise, he'd sit by her and hum a tune for her instead.

Oriana Batterbutter (daughter of Torvald Batterbutter): She is a very emotional kid. The same case as Pepo, she is actually very young compared to the other children and doesn't have the knowledge to actually help Nala. The only thing she could think of is to wrap Nala up with her comfort item: her hooded cape

Brezziana Flugpucker (daughter of Citrusella Flugpucker): She'd seem calm, although she is actually dying from her nerves on the inside. She does not handle being faced with conflict well, but it doesn't mean she won't try. She'd lend Nala either her phone or gaming device, and let her play a game to distract her.

Akai "Pez" Treat (twin daughter of Theresa×Mez[OCs]): Pez actually is very calm at this time. She is a composed child, so she is in a better state of mind to help. She'd take a moment to try and assess what had triggered Nala, before she tries to talk it out with her.

Cadbury Treat (twin son of Theresa×Mez[OCs]): He is the opposite of his sister. He is not calmed, and he is fumbling and stammering over his words as he tries to figure out how to help Nala. He will try to talk to her in the same way Pez does, but keep in mind he's not collected.

Sourpat (daughter of Sourbill×OC Coalette): She is the youngest of the Sugar Rush children and is not so prepared for this. Still, she does recognize something is wrong. She often carries a comic book or graphic novel on her person. She will sit on Nala's lap, she will pull out the comic or novel, and she will non-verbally signal to Nala to read to her. She believes that reading calms a person down, especially if they are made to read a book out loud

Steep (younger KC): He understands Nala's situation. Although he doesn't struggle with an alter ego [at least not to his knowledge], his defect is a burden and he had to come with grasps over how to resolve it. He could try to talk it out with Nala, he could hold onto her hand as he tries to assure her she is safe, or he could- last resort method- calm her with a smoke break.

Florence "Flo" Samir Von Schweetz (adopted son of Vanellope): Although he doesn't suffer from an alter ego, his Sequence Breaking Glitch can consume him too, so he knows how scary this is. He knows that he and Nala don't see eye to eye, but he still cares. He wants to make it clear to her that she is not alone. If he somehow played a part in Distortia trying to take over, he'll apologize as much as he possibly can. Whatever it is, he'll try.

Guard-It Gloria (Oldest child/daughter of Felix×Calhoun): She is very mother-like in her approach. She'll be panicked at first, but she'll smother Nala in a hug and hold her close, patting her back as she shushes her and tries to get her to calm down.

Deidamia Calhoun (Middle child/youngest daughter of Felix×Calhoun): She... she is not exactly the best person to be around if you are panicking. Deidamia is very loud, and she'll be shouting, thinking she is helping, but it more than likely has the opposite effect.

Felix the III (Youngest child/son of Felix×Calhoun): He is an anxious and soft-spoken fella. He'll be a bit nervous by Nala's panic, but he'll try and calmly talk her out of it. He'll try and keep his distance, but he is trying to be as respectful as possible

Anatoly (Son of Zangief; Ralph is like a mentor to him): He isn't normally a serious kid, but he can take a hint. He'll offer Nala a snack, something to eat, before he tries to help her relax and lay back. He'll talk her through it all the while.

*Panting* THAT'S EVERYONE-