#Zero Hour Part 2

[kirby-the-gorb]

[l0stw00d]

Also yeah uh I have a friend coming over but like, this is a Grown Up friend that I made as an Adult. And I'm the only person home. So suddenly this is less "bringing a friend round after school" and more "welcome to my humble home :) I am a human person who Lives Here :)" and let me tell you I am overthinking this in like. 8 different directions

[paracosim]

Literally everyone when I was pre-T: going on testosterone will make you physically unable to cry, and your emotions will be flat and dull

Me, two years on T and outright bawling as I finish the intro to the new Zelda game, followed by more sobbing while listening to a new song released by my favorite band:

[reginaofdoctorwho]

god must think he's the funniest bitch alive

[advisorsage]

Really feeling the medical anomaly part of chronic illness/pain type of disability.

[dubioushonour]

[disappearingcigarette]

I should figure out why self aware people piss me off

[crowcryptid]

Replaying titanfall is making me want to play apex again but I know better

[crookedkingdom]

committee meetings are horrid awful things

[thegeekyartist]

On my knees begging for some grace.

[yanderenightmare]

soft boyfriend headcanons with Gojo plez🥺

Gojo Satoru ! Boyfriend Headcanons

TW: tons of fluff ig, Set in a real-life au

fem reader

EARLY STAGES OF THE RELATIONSHIP

He’s not joking when he says it was love at first sight.

But, obviously, you brush him off as a total player.

Not convinced by his confession in the slightest, you reject him multiple times.

Like, come on… that’s the school’s number one pretty boy, known for having a new girl on his arm every other week or so. You have absolutely zero ambition of being one of them.

You laugh at all his silly gestures—dumb pick-up lines at parties, flowers, chocolates, and letters in your locker, flirty passerby compliments to and from in between classes. 

Oh, but then, cue the grandest of all gestures…

The public massive confession with banners, confetti, a lovesong in the background, and him with a megaphone in the middle of campus—professing his undying crush on you—down on both knees while begging you, “Please go out with me!”

You’ve never been more embarrassed in all your life. You feel like running away, but how could you say no in front of so many people?

And that’s how you end up on the first date with him.

He takes you to an amusement park.

You haven’t been in ages. It feels strange to be there on a date, older than any of the other kids you see running around with stressed parents on their heels.

It feels like a prank is being pulled. You’re waiting for the pig’s blood to fall. But halfway through, you somehow end up forgetting all about it.

To your surprise, Gojo actually seems like quite a genuine guy.

Sure, he’s more charm and flirt than deep conversation, but… you don’t know… there’s something really amazing about him too…

He doesn’t do anything inappropriate. 

The farthest he goes is holding your hand when pulling you along to the next rollercoaster. And asks to have a taste of your ice cream. He tells you that you have to name the plushie he won for you, Satoru—then pokes fun at how he tricked you into finally calling him by his first name.

It's funny, but you’d always thought Satoru was a pigheaded jerk, but it turns out he’s actually just a silly boy.

And there’s something really endearing about it.

It scares you at first—how fast and easily you fell in love with him.

You hadn’t wanted to—scared he’d drop you like he’d done all those other girls who came before you.

But then you find out—he hasn’t really dated anyone at all—all rumors made by those obsessed with him.

Sure, he’s been confessed to plenty of times, but he’s not about to jump into a relationship with girls he’s never even seen before.

That would be crazy.

“In all honesty, girls like that kinda scare me…”

You realize your perception of Gojo Satoru couldn’t have been any more wrong.

And you only stand to be corrected again and again the more you get to know him better.

He’s the boy version of “I’m not like other girls”

He doesn’t like meat, he likes sweets—for every meal. It’s concerning. 2 am convenience store runs are a constant occurrence with him. It’s a wonder he’s got the body he has—it’s that boy metabolism.

At parties, he doesn’t drink beer, he’ll drink little syrupy things instead. Oh, and jello shots. If they’re all gone, bet that most of than are in Gojo’s stomach.

But he doesn’t need to be drunk to be clingy and cuddly and needy and not afraid to show it. However, he does get sloppier after drinking—all but draping you with his entire weight, kissing any part of you he can get his lips on.

He confesses his love for you every day, hugs you every time he sees you, then whines about how he’s missed you—even when it’s just been a handful of hours since the last time you saw each other.

When Geto tells the two of you to get a room, Satoru only looks at him sourly and sticks his tongue out—blowing raspberries like a child.

And probably the most surprising…

He loves anime and manga.

Which isn’t really too much of a surprise in and of itself, only… you didn’t realize the extent of his love. In fact, it’s better called an obsession.

He isn't a cool guy at all...

He's a total nerd!

The first time you see his dorm room—it’s a total mess!

Manga literally litters the floor and bed, even the tall bookshelf he has is prop full.

What’s even more surprising is that Shonen Jump isn’t in the majority. No, it’s Shōjo.

He tells you his favorite anime is Ouran High School Host Club and insists you watch it with him. 

He sings the entire intro almost every single time—sometimes even the outro.

He says he identifies with the main character—which he obviously feels is Tamaki.

“You’d make a cute Haruhi, though—we should cosplay for Halloween~”

And he’s not even joking. He’s bought the costumes before you even agree.

Of course, no one understands who the two of you are supposed to be—dressed in the same school uniforms like two twins.

You also discover his harbored hatred for horror manga. Junji Ito gives him nightmares.

Though you managed to get him to read Death Note after pushing it on him for months.

He’s so cute—his only takeaway isn’t about the juxtaposing philosophies or any of the moral dilemmas but how “Suguru is so Light, and I’m definitely L.”

You find he’ll always do that—dib characters, almost always the main one.

It's a habit that reminds you of childhood, but it seems more than instinctual for Satoru. You don’t think he’ll ever grow out of it.

When he tells you he wants to be a teacher, you look at him with moon-big eyes.

He’s never seemed any interested in school—his grades are subpar, if not worse.

He never studies. There are no textbooks or the like on his desk, just more figurines and comics, as well as a dusty gaming station.

But when you take a second to think about it, the more it actually makes sense.

He's strangely great with kids. The girls all squeal over his charm, while the boys all cheer over his coolness.

You tell him he’ll be a great teacher, and he proposes to you on the spot.

SOME TIME INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

Obviously, you didn’t marry him back then. But you did finally accept being his girlfriend.

You live together now. Which is nice—not so different from living with your best friend.

Movie nights with candy and drinks—you’ve managed to sway him over to enjoy whine.

Rearranging things at home on a whim—often ending with a stupid layout—couch in the kitchen, where it will stay for a couple of days before you both find the energy to move it back.

You go shopping together and often end up buying things that don’t at all fit with the rest of the stuff at home—artwork, pillows, silly little decorations you just couldn’t leave the store without.

You share a lot of clothes too—hoodies, shirts, sweaters. Which he just loves.

He’s always gushing over you when you wear something he wore the day before.

He’s an ok cook. He can make the basics—wok, curry, ramen. His onigiri is never anything to post about, but hey, at least he actually cooks!

The clean-up is well… never small.

It doesn’t help that he’s always so sleepy after a proper meal, he just tugs you along to bed without putting the washer on.

Sleeping with you in his arms—all limbs tangled around you.

It’s funny, but you’d think with such a clingy lover-boy like Satoru, he’d come with a side of jealousy, but truly, you’ve never ever once seen that shade on him.

He’s excellent with all your friends and colleagues, even old friends and boyfriends you run into.

Instead of jealousy, he has this air of total ease—a certain smugness in a sense—as if there is nothing to worry about.

It's a trust that he puts in you—a quality that makes him seem so mature even when he often acts anything but.

Being with Satoru is strange. You often forget how old the two of you are. Somehow, he still acts the same way he did when he was in high school.

Taking you on amusement park dates, or to the movies to watch a children's film, or for ice cream in the park like you’re still teenagers.

He did end up becoming a teacher, though. Gojo Sensei.

Sometimes, he makes you call him that in the bedroom.

He teaches at the same high school you went to. He even brought home a girl’s uniform for you to wear.

You told him he was crazy if he thought you’d agree to that, but then… it was his only birthday wish. 

“You’re just as cute as you were back then—I can’t believe you’ve stuck with me all this time—I love you so much—”

Ten years older, and he really hasn’t aged much at all... 

Sometimes, he still cums in his pants after dry-humping.

Surprisingly, he really pulled his act together to teach both physics and gymnastics while sometimes subbing for philosophy.

It’s crazy, but he actually manages to make physics fun for the students. Several of them, even after graduation, still keep in touch.

It almost feels like the two of you already have kids.

But, of course, it’s nothing compared to when you actually see those two blue lines signaling your pregnancy.

You’re alone in the bathroom, rereading the instructions over and over. 

You hadn’t wanted to tell Satoru—he’d only insist on watching you pee and being there for the entirety of it. But now that you know for certain it wasn’t just a hunch, you really wished he was in there with you.

“TORU!” you yell.

You hear the struggle of slippery steps as he rushes, coming bursting inside in seconds. “What!?! What is it?! Are you okay?!?”

You only hold up the pregnancy test you’d kept secret you’d bought.

His eyes are as wide as they’d been when you’d agreed to move in with him.

“We’re pregnant?” he all but cheers.

The smile that erupts on his face is nothing short of ecstatic as he kneels before the toilet you’re sitting on, hands holding your thighs as he buries his face between them, chanting “Oh my god, ohmygod, omigod—” between kisses. “You’re serious? We’re really pregnant?”

When he looks up, he’s crying. “That’s so great—”

You have to cup his face in your hands for him not to fall apart.

And the sight is all so reassuring, you have to laugh through the tears on your own face.

You spent the entire day in bed. Satoru with his cheek against your belly and arms wrapped around you, and you with your hands running through his hair as you both discuss baby names.

Surprisingly, it had come as a complete surprise. Not just being pregnant, but the entire gist of it—having kids. 

Both of you have been so wrapped up in each other for the longest time—the thought of any other party had been completely lost.

On the other hand, you haven’t even gotten married yet.

Satoru doesn’t even have a ring, but he proposes to you then anyway.

And even though it’s so impromptu you have to laugh, you still say yes.

After all, you haven’t been able to imagine your life without Satoru for a long time.

Actually, you can’t even remember ever living a life without him.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown 56

 The Zero Hour – Part 2.

Sarif Industries David Sarif's office. The 0 hour.

The alarm did not stop, and the robotic, female voice continued to repeat in a loop: Environmental malfunction, laboratory sub-section six. All lab chiefs, please report in. Adam took his phone out of his pants pocket and dialled the Head of Cyber Security’s number.

"Pritchard, I'm at Sarif's so maybe you can explain to me the reason for this alarm in subsection six of the labs," he said in a nervous tone. "I'm the one who triggered it. We're checking security with Laura and Connor. Everything is under control," he replied. "You should have done it earlier!" "Princess was resting. There was no time."

Jensen didn't want to argue with him, especially since Sarif heard everything so he just hung up.

"Everything's fine, boss. Pritchard must have checked new security features. The alarm is about to go off," he informed. "For God's sake! Couldn't he have done it earlier?" "You know him boss. He's always been like that," The Security Chief evaded further explanation, not wanting Laura to have any more problems. Admittedly, she had the day off, but in an emergency situation she should be at the company. For Pritchard, these emergencies happen every second. "You're right. If it weren't for his outstanding skills, I would have fired him long ago."

Sarif Industries Underground parking lot. 10 minutes past midnight.

Five black armoured vans impetuously broke the railings prohibiting access to the parking lot. A security guard fell out of the guardhouse armed with a pistol, seeking to respond to the intrusion. A single shot hit the concrete ceiling, and the man's body shook with spasms. A short burst from an automatic rifle perforated him like a sieve, spraying pearls of blood into the air. His bulletproof vest did not help. The bodyguard fell inertly to the ground next to his baseball cap with the Sarif Industries logo. His dead stare was frozen on the wall of the watchtower, partially stripped of paint. The roar of engines filled the space. Another series of shots were fired. A woman's scream, a man's terror. Several guards fell lifeless before they could reach for their holstered weapons. The faint lights of the ceiling lamps blinked rhythmically. Almost 50 people poured out of the vans like a sea. They were dressed in black military-style body armor with red elements and balaclavas. One of them, probably the squad leader, ordered his subordinates to split up with a hand gesture. Half moved down the fire stairs, while the other moved through the double doors of the warehouse, which were blown up almost without any sound.

Sarif Industries David Sarif's office. 15 minutes past midnight.

Another message appeared on the screen in Sarif's office. This time it came from the lobby. Adam was beginning to have doubts, but if something had happened, he would know about it.

"Boss, I'm going back to my office. I need to make sure it's still Frank." "But, son!" David tried to stop him. "Please secure the office. No one but me is allowed to enter!" he ordered.

Sarif was far from believing that someone could have attacked them, but he followed the order. After all, that's what one has a Security Chief for.

Adam fell out into the corridor, and his body was immediately paralysed by pain radiating upward from his knee. The man clenched his teeth, cursing in his mind that this was happening just now, and with a nervous movement took out a Vicodin from his pants pocket. He took two pills at once. Athene was not at the reception desk. Apparently she took the alarm seriously. The elevator was upstairs so he rode it down to his office, from which he took his gun, the Colt revolver that had been his faithful and reliable companion for many years, and some spare ammo. He also put on a bulletproof vest over a brown turtleneck sweater.

After leaving the office, he looked down at the lobby. There were only guards there ready to take action. He wanted to speak to Pritchard in person, but protecting the boss was his priority at the moment. Adam was afraid for Laura, but if Connor was there, he was sure he would be better protection. Jensen returned to Sarif's office and used the code to go through a door covered by an shell-proof wall. He was surprised to see David pointing a gun at him, which he lowered as soon as he saw that the newcomer posed no threat to him.

"I checked the Lobby. Only our guards are there," he informed.

Another wave of pain almost dazed him. With difficulty, he managed not to show anything afterwards.

Sarif Industries Chief of Cyber Security’s office. 25 minutes past midnight.

Pritchard was pleased to see everything going according to plan. The video surveillance showed perfect tranquillity, even all too beautiful. Laura felt a growing anxiety. Every alarm had the same effect on her, so she partly tried to control that unbearable feeling of fear. No one suspected that what they saw was far from the truth.

"The area is clear. Sarif's dog returned to the doghouse. Whaler's squad can enter," one of the guards heard in the earpiece.

Everyone left the lobby, heading for the floor. A hand could be seen in the ajar door of one of the restrooms, and the interior of the room was filled with corpses of real security guards. Cameras mirrored the hallways, but Frank didn't really have control over any of them.

"I think we can cancel the alarm in about 10 minutes," Pritchard muttered. "See? I have everything under control. You'll make it to Washington in time for tomorrow's speech."

Sarif Industries Sewers and ventilation tunnels. 30 minutes past midnight.

Three people reached the right manhole, which was supposed to be in the station that provides water supply to the building.

"Fuck, Namir! You're fucked up for this shit walking!" growled a man with light hair and the posture of a bull. He looked down at his heavy boots in disgust. "Shut the fuck up, Barrett!" replied a thin man with a body that looked like muscles stripped from the skin. "Calm down, both of you!" the only woman on the team tried to bring order. "We have a job to do. The Whalers have already entered, the Belltower too, so move your fucking arses."

A foreign accent, probably Russian, could be heard in her speech. The left half of her head was shaved bald, and the right half showed shoulder-length dark hair. She had an earring in her nose, similar to those which bulls had.

"Holy shit, didn't they have smaller hatches!" complained Barrett once he managed to get out. "It's a good thing we're talking through Infolink, otherwise the whole fucking company would already know about us," commented Namir.

Yelena opened the metal door and looked out into a basement corridor full of pipes, fuse boxes and cables. It was illuminated by a pale, yellowish light. All three of them found the place where the wall was weakened in a split second. They seemed to know exactly what they were doing and where to go.

"Smash the wall Barrett," ordered Namir. "Smash it, knock it down, kill it," he said with displeasure. "I'd rather fuck some nice, tight arse. Like that one which the girl with blue hair had." "After all, you didn't like her because she squalled like a butchered hog," Namir reminded. "True, but once she quieted down it was great."

Lawrence clenched his robotic hand into a fist, which he effortlessly turned a piece of concrete into rubble. They passed through a hole from which metal bars protruded, and tight corridors led them further down. Through thick pipes, they climbed higher up to a square ventilation grille. Barrett could barely fit through the rather cramped space and made it almost impossible for them to get out. They found themselves in a storage room with cleaning supplies.

"Subsection six of the labs," Namir said. "We are in place. You know what to do."

They all activated their cloaking systems, then stepped out into the corridor. Yelena moved nimbly on her robotic black limbs, which looked like the legs of a ballerina. They didn't fire a single shot. They were here to settle the matter quietly, hitting a specific target without making a mess. Of course, they couldn't vouch for the Belltower squad or the Whalers, whom they didn't even know and didn't know why they were here.

Sarif Industries Subsection six of the laboratories. 35 minutes past midnight.

"Berlin reports that Delta squad has taken position. We are waiting for further orders," the Belltower mercenary informed through the communicator. "Roger. Do not fire without order. Prague out."

A man in black armour with red elements and a balaclava looked out the door into the corridor as soon as he heard the explosion.

"Fuck, this wasn't in the plan," he cursed under his breath. "Who the fuck is responsible for this mess?!" he yelled through the communicator. "It's none of ours. Maybe the Whalers? Besides, it was nothing big, it looked like some sort of diversion. Berlin out."

A group of people dressed in scientists' uniforms ran out of the room from which the noise came. Several Sarif Industries guards directed them to the emergency exits, but they never reached them. They were killed along the way and it was done quietly.

"Knife of Dunwall reports that the Whalers are already in the labs," said new voice. "Great. Those explosions are you guys?" "Confirmed. Actions necessary during a fire drill. Moving on to the next point of the plan. Starting looking for data." "What about the cameras? I don't want to have all the security on my neck." "We have full control over security. The boys are keeping an eye on everything. Knife of Dunwall out."

Sarif Industries Subsection six of the laboratories. Forty minutes past midnight.

Five people sat on the floor in one of the empty offices. They were all dressed in black pants, tucked into knee-high leather boots, grey shirts and navy blue coats. Their faces were covered by masks resembling those protecting them from gas. Attached to each person's head were two cables. The end of one was in a computer socket, while the other was plugged into a data storage disk. Their eyes blinked with dizzying speed, opening wide after a moment. Then it was possible to see strings of numbers and letters scrolling through them. The Whalers were unaware of what was happening outside. They were locked in a room and had only one goal – find and copy relevant data, then destroy the original one. Their brains scanned through millions of files, filtering them piece by piece. They knew that what they were looking for was in the server room G.

Sarif Industries Subsection six of the laboratories. 45 minutes past midnight.

After the alarm was called off, everyone returned to their tasks. Only a few felt some strange anxiety, but they explained it by nervousness before leaving. In the main hall, they were finishing packing the necessary things and verifying data. The order of speeches and their text were being checked.

"I hope this alarm hasn't disturbed you too much in your preparations?" said Dr. Reed, who was just coming down the wide staircase.

She observed all the research stations full of microscopes, test tubes, containers and boxes. On the walls of the huge room, occupying at least two floors, between which the ceiling had been removed, hung screens with X-ray images. From the shorter sides protruded rooms reaching from the ceiling to halfway up, storing toxic substances.

"Just in time Dr. Reed!" shouted one of the scientists. "We couldn't start without you." "Begin what?" the woman asked in surprise, rolling her eyes at the faces of those gathered. "Celebrations. I know it's still early, but I think a little toast wouldn't hurt." "Out of the question," protested the woman firmly. "We don't drink alcohol before the DC." "It's just a cup of lemonade. Please do not deny us," urged Nia. "All right, but we don't have much time." "In that case, let's drink to the success of our research!" suggested Eric.

Everyone raised their plastic cups in a toast gesture. Megan was about to say a few words at the urging, but was called back to the office. Nia and Eric also left to check carefully if they had done everything they should. The rest decided to spend their free time talking with friends. There were jokes and a huge amount of laughter. Someone climbed up on one of the research stations to make a few more toasts.

The eyes of the five Whalers stopped moving, freezing in a ghastly goggle. Everything they were supposed to get was on a disk lying on the ground, and all of the original data was destroyed. A moment later, the door to the office opened. A man in a red coat, black pants and knee-high boots materialized, then took the disk with him.

"Delilah," he said, and the heads of all five exploded. Immediately the rest of their bodies disintegrated to make identification difficult. "Knife of Dunwall reports that the Rat Plague operation has been successfully completed," he said into the communicator. "Roger. Prague out," he heard in reply, and the connection was cut. "Berlin, begin Operation Harvester." "Yes, sir. Berlin out."

The scientist who had entered the research station was just about to make another toast.

"Let's drink to our friendship and..."

The man didn't have time to finish. He wobbled and fell over onto his back hitting his head against a container made of hard plastic-like material. His body rolled inertly onto the graphite floor. A bullet hole was visible in the middle of his forehead. Someone screamed, someone froze into immobility. Chaos reigned. No one knew what had happened. At first they thought their colleague was joking. Someone brave enough checked the heart rate and shook his head sadly. Soon the room was filled with Belltower mercenaries. They murdered without blinking an eye, without a shadow of mercy they killed those lying down with a shot to the head. They knocked over bottles, threw down equipment, started fires. One of the scientists managed to run to the wall and hit the alarm button. He sank to the ground with his arm outstretched, and the room was filled with red flashing lights and wailing sirens. Soon Belltower had most of the area under control.

The Tyrants after receiving the report about the data takeover, proceeded to destroy everything they could. A symphony of gunfire rang out in the corridors and offices. Fire extinguishers exploded, people screamed, documents burned. Chaos reigned.

Sarif Industries David Sarif's office. Ten minutes to one in the morning.

"You unnecessarily panicked," Sarif complained. "Those are the procedures, boss," replied Adam. "Yes, yes, I know son," he cut the subject, not wanting to hear about the details. "Since everything is in order, we can already fly to Washington." "Let's wait some more..."

Another alarm interrupted their conversation. This time the previous message was joined by another about fires and explosions. Jensen knew that this was not a fire drill. He also knew that Megan was in the labs. Panic paralysed him.

"Can't this day be normal?!" growled David. "Adam, check what happened, maybe it's just some kind of malfunction, a misreading of the situation." "I was just about to do that," he replied, heading for the exit. "Wait. Use my elevator. It will be faster. Do you remember the code?" "0451"

The boss nodded his head. He looked like he wasn't worried or afraid at all. He looked like he was sure that his company was like a fortress that no one could destroy.

Sarif Industries Office of the Head of Cyber Security. Nine minutes to one in the morning.

"Laura, check sectors L1-L4. Connor, you take care of L5-L7, and I'll check the rest," Pritchard ordered.

At the moment there was no time for discussion and argument. The situation looked serious so they had to hurry. They sat down at the computers that stood at the back of the room and tried to figure out what might have happened.

"I don't have access to the cameras in the labs," Connor informed them. "Frank! Someone hacked the cameras in the lobby! We saw a false image the whole time," the woman said. "Fucking hell!" "Connor, let's try to take over at least one camera. We need to know what happened there," Laura said, although deep down she already knew the truth. All she needed was confirmation and she felt it wouldn't make her feel any better.

Together they launched a simultaneous attack, pushing out the enemy hacker.

"Frank, you need to see this," Connor ordered.

The woman was unable to utter a single word. She sat in front of the monitor, covering her mouth with her hand. The frame showed the scientist's body perforated like a sieve. The walls were smeared with blood. Moments later, music flowed from speakers throughout the company.

Boom boom boom boom Gonna shoot you right down Take you in my arms I'm in love with you Love that is true Boom boom boom boom

The message was obvious but only Laura knew it. She felt herself suffocating as if someone had pumped all the air out of the room. In a split second she realized what she had done - she had murdered innocent people. The woman knew Damien was unpredictable, but not to that extent. She herself opened the gate for him, which was a piece of code, the one considered safe, but about which Connor had doubts. She had lied to him. Unknowingly, but she lied.

"Pritchard, where's Megan. Did she report in yet?" Adam's voice spoke through the office speaker. "Her G-P-L implant shows she's moving through micro-chem labs," the Cyber Security Chief replied. "Do you have a camera view?" "No, something from outside is interfering with it. Laura and Connor managed to take over one of them but not for long. We saw a dead scientist. It's not good, Jensen. You need to hurry up."

Sarif Industries Subsection six of the laboratories. One o'clock at night.

Adam was somewhat reassured by the news that Laura was safe. This allowed him to focus on his task. During the elevator ride, he checked the cylinder of his Colt. He involuntarily clenched his hand on the grip so tightly that it went numb. Subsection six greeted him with the stench of burning, gunpowder and spilled chemicals. Most of the rooms along the corridor he patrolled stood in flames. Scattered pieces of paper, containers and destroyed doors lay on the ground. Glass crunched under the soles of his shoes as he walked forward. His hearing was sensitive to every sound. Fluorescent lights and severed cables dangled from the ceiling, hissing and crackling in an abrupt manner. Jensen crouched by the man's corpse he encountered, turning it over on its back. In addition to multiple bullet wounds on his torso, he found one on his forehead. Such methods of execution were used by mercenaries or special units. There were many of both so he couldn't clearly pinpoint the perpetrator. He needed more clues. When he stood up and looked in front of him for a split second he had a feeling as if space had curved. It seemed to him that he saw someone. Shaking his head, he looked again. This time the corridor was completely normal so he decided that it was just an illusion. He should hurry, but in addition to finding Megan, he also wanted to know the culprit. The leg spoke up at the worst possible moment. The Security Chief opened the Vicodin package tossing the pills onto his palm. There were only three left. It had to be enough. He took one and moved on.

"Help! I'm begging! Is there anybody out here?!" he suddenly heard a call so he quickened his pace.

The corridor turned right and continued straight ahead, but the way was blocked by a bulkhead. A scientist standing on the other side was pounding his fists on the thick glass, which showed bullet marks.

"Please help me. This is a slaughterhouse. They're all dead!" he yelled, and panic burned in his eyes. "You'll be free in no time," he assured, though it was insincere.

Adam pressed the button on the wall responsible for lifting the partition, but he knew perfectly well that it would do nothing. He tried to call for help through the communicator he had in his ear but no one responded.

"I don't want to..."

Another body slumped to the ground. Adam spotted a man. Unnaturally massive, but he disappeared too quickly. He wade further ahead, trying to call Pritchard, but the communication was broken.

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[rebeccathenaturalist]

ETA: I wrote up a guide on clues that a foraging book was written by AI here!

[Original Tweet source here.]

[RANT AHEAD]

Okay, yeah. This is a very, very, very bad idea. I understand that there is a certain flavor of techbro who has ABSOLUTELY zero problem with this because "AI is the future, bro", and we're supposed to be reading their articles on how to use AI for side hustles and all that.

I get that ID apps have played into people's tendency to want quick and easy answers to everything (I'm not totally opposed to apps, but please read about how an app does not a Master Naturalist make.) But nature identification is serious stuff, ESPECIALLY when you are trying to identify whether something is safe to eat, handle, etc. You have to be absolutely, completely, 100000% sure of your ID, and then you ALSO have to absolutely verify that it is safely handled and consumed by humans.

As a foraging instructor, I cannot emphasize this enough. My classes, which are intended for a general audience, are very heavy on identification skills for this very reason. I have had (a small subsection of) students complain that I wasn't just spending 2-3 hours listing off bunches of edible plants and fungi, and honestly? They can complain all they want. I am doing MY due diligence to make very sure that the people who take my classes are prepared to go out and start identifying species and then figure out their edibility or lack thereof.

Because it isn't enough to be able to say "Oh, that's a dandelion, and I think this might be an oyster mushroom." It's also not enough to say "Well, such-and-such app says this is Queen Anne's lace and not poison hemlock." You HAVE to have incredibly keen observational skills. You HAVE to be patient enough to take thorough observations and run them through multiple forms of verification (field guides, websites, apps, other foragers/naturalists) to make sure you have a rock-solid identification. And then you ALSO have to be willing to read through multiple sources (NOT just Wikipedia) to determine whether that species is safely consumed by humans, and if so if it needs to be prepared in a particular way or if there are inedible/toxic parts that need to be removed.

AND--this phenomenon of AI-generated crapola emphasizes the fact that in addition to all of the above, you HAVE to have critical thinking skills when it comes to assessing your sources. Just because something is printed on a page doesn't mean it's true. You need to look at the quality of the information being presented. You need to look at the author's sources. You need to compare what this person is saying to other books and resources out there, and make sure there's a consensus.

You also need to look at the author themselves and make absolutely sure they are a real person. Find their website. Find their bio. Find their social media. Find any other manners in which they interact with the world, ESPECIALLY outside of the internet. Contact them. Ask questions. Don't be a jerk about it, because we're just people, but do at least make sure that a book you're interested in buying is by a real person. I guarantee you those of us who are serious about teaching this stuff and who are internet-savvy are going to make it very easy to find who we are (within reason), what we're doing, and why.

Because the OP in that Tweet is absolutely right--people are going to get seriously ill or dead if they try using AI-generated field guides. We have such a wealth of information, both on paper/pixels and in the brains of active, experienced foragers, that we can easily learn from the mistakes of people in the past who got poisoned, and avoid their fate. But it does mean that you MUST have the will and ability to be impeccably thorough in your research--and when in doubt, throw it out.

My inbox is always open. I'm easier caught via email than here, but I will answer. You can always ask me stuff about foraging, about nature identification, etc. And if there's a foraging instructor/author/etc. with a website, chances are they're also going to be more than willing to answer questions. I am happy to direct you to online groups on Facebook and elsewhere where you have a whole slew of people to compare notes with. I want people's foraging to be SAFE and FUN. And AI-generated books aren't the way to make that happen.

[boombox-fuckboy]

May 3rd is Bandcamp Friday, which means artists on Bandcamp get more out of your purchases. Why not support some of your favourite fiction podcasters, and get some crisp audio in the process?

Fiction Podcasts

Anamnesis (Full Audio Drama + Soundtrack)

Awake

Camlann (Season 1)

The Dungeon Economic Model (The Complete Series)

Folxlore (Part 1 • Part 2)

Inn Between (Season 1 • Season 2 • Season 3)

Old Gods of Appalachia (Season 1 • Season 3)

Sidequesting (Season 1 • Season 2)

The Tower (Part I • Part II • Part III)

What Will Be Here

Podcast Specials

The Deca Tapes (Puzzle Box)

The Dungeon Economic Model (Halloween Special)

Leaving Corvat (TEMPLE OF SLEEP)

Welcome To Night Vale (Live Shows: Condos • The Debate • The Librarian • The Investigators • Ghost Stories • All Hail • A Spy in the Desert • The Haunting of Night Vale)

Where The Stars Fell (The Christmas Chronicle)

Music From Podcasts

The Adventure Zone

Aftershocks (Soundtrack)

Alice Isn't Dead (Music From)

All My Fantasy Children

Among The Stars and Bones (OST)

ars PARADOXICA (When I'm Not Here • Electric River (End Theme))

The Ballard of Anne & Mary (Soundtrack)

The Big Loop (OST: FML • The Fugue )

The Deca Tapes (OST)

The Department of Variance of Somewhere, Ohio (OST: Season One • Season Two)

Dreamboy (Silent Night, Holy Night)

The Dungeon Economic Model (Royal Musical Accompaniment • Chill Beats to Build Profitable Dungeons To)

Eeler's Choice (OST)

The Fall of the House of Sunshine

Folxlore (Music To Dance With Your Inner Demons To)

Friends At The Table

Gospels of the Flood (Soundtrack)

Greater Boston (Soundtrack, Seasons 1-3)

The Grotto (Soundtrack)

Hello From The Hallowoods (Starcrossed Gods OST)

It Makes A Sound (Wim Farros: The Attic Tape)

Kane and Feels (OST: Volume 1 • Volume 2)

Lake Clarity (OST)

Leaving Corvat (Re-mastered soundtrack)

Liars & Leeches

The Lost Cat Podcast (Musical Features)

Malevolent

Midnight Radio (OST)

Mockery Manor (The Music Of: Season One • Season Two • Season Three • A Midwinter Night's Dream)

Neoscum

Nowhere, On Air

Old Gods of Appalachia (What is Sung Under The Mountain Vol. 1 • The Land Unknown (Theme) • The Bride • Familiar & Beloved)

Our Fair City

The Pasithea Powder (Theme • Mary Ann • Odysseus)

The Penumbra Podcast

The Polybius Conspiracy (OST)

Re: Dracula (Concept Album)

ROGUEMAKER (Soundtrack)

Rogue Runners (OST)

Skyjacks (Call of the Sky)

Station Blue (OST)

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

This Planet Needs a Name (Albums: The Nameless Songs - Landing - Growing - Shifting)

The Tower (Original Score: Part I • Part II • Part III)

Unplaced (Soundtrack)

Unseen (Soundtrack)

Where The Stars Fell

WOE.BEGONE

Wolf 359 (OST: Volume One • Volume Two • Volume Three)

Zero Hours

2024 Bandcamp Friday Dates

May 3rd

September 6th

October 4th

December 6th

[snebleps]

Fuuucking hell.

Gotta make a boring official document. Two, actually, but one has a deadline coming up Fast. (And it's not part of my actual job, but I got saddled with some extra responsibilities and then a year later told that ppl before me didn't prep even the basic shit they had to).

Have an outline provided. Spent last week figuring out how to change it to what I need. Then spent my Friday evening prepping the doc, used like 20 references, an now only have a few things to fix up.

And today I go to discuss those few things...

I Worked. On The Wrong Document.

щ(ಥДಥщ)

And now. I have Zero energy, Zero motivation, and can find like 1 reference.

I hate it I hate it, can I please write a standard work procedure instread

[qqueenofhades]

There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place

And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?

Do you think I don't know that?

Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?

Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.

Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?

Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:

THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS

and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???

Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.