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bewitchingbooktours · 11 months ago

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Cover Reveal Abandon Station by V. G. Harrison #ScienceFiction

Abandon Station

The Dyson Bridge Series,

Book One

V. G. Harrison

Genre: Science Fiction

Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press

Date of Publication: 1/31/2024

Number of pages: 84

Word Count: 22,000

Cover Artist: Maya Preisler

Tagline: Some planets just aren't worth saving.

Book Description:

An explosion rocks the Bridgeway Space Station. Mechanical Engineer Meridia Vail and her crew wake to find themselves on an alternate Earth where the technology is decades behind theirs, and so are the politics.

When she realizes their space station survived the interdimensional transport to an alternate space and time, she and her crew have only one mission. Get back to the Bridgeway so they can return to their real home.

Time is running out. If the metabolic changes that come with their teleported space station don’t kill them, the politics and secret agendas will.

Returning home makes sense, but that’s assuming there’s a home to return to. When Meridia learns the Bridgeway’s decaying orbit threatens to annihilate the planet, the Earthers will be more than happy to take their chances by destroying the greatest technological marvel of all time.

With members of Meridia’s international crew scattered across the planet and being detained, she must escape her “caretakers”, if she and her people ever have a chance at saving the one thing that might be able to save everyone.

https://mochamemoirspress.com/

Excerpt

The door opened.

I sat up and reached for the light.

“Don’t,” a familiar voice said. “They don’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way.”

“Who doesn’t know you’re here?” I asked as panic swept across me. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“It’s me, Meridia. It’s Julio.” The older man appeared in the light reflecting from the TV. He looked every gray-hair of his age, but there was something about his eyes that weren’t right. His entire visage seemed worn and weathered beyond his fifty-nine years. He continued toward my bed with sweat dripping from his short, gray curls. “We have to get out of here. They want to use us.”

“Use us for what?” I asked.

“Don’t you hear them talking? They want to suck the information out of our brains. They’re going to attach us to machines that will take the wormhole knowledge out of us, then use that information to build bigger weapons. They won’t rest until they’ve brought the rest of the world to their knees.”

Oh boy. I jumped out of bed and hurried toward him to grab his arms. “Calm down, Julio. These people don’t want to hurt us. They want our knowledge, so it would hurt them to hurt us.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze pleading. “You’re wrong. I’ve seen the machines. They do it round after round after round. You had your first tests today, didn’t you?”

“Julio it was just—”

He tore away from me. “Don’t you get it? The wormhole is ours. We created it. It belongs to us. Not them.”

This wasn’t the same Julio Ferrera I knew. A fusion physicist who was already on his way to greatness even before he joined the astronaut program, he was our Chief of Scientific Research and an accomplished Air Force Major. This guy in front of me was a lunatic who needed more care than they could ever hope to give him here. Seeing my friend and colleague like this wrenched my heart. I wanted to hug the fear out of him but knew it wouldn’t make any difference. He needed more help than I could give him.

“Relax, okay?” I started toward the small desk where there was a phone. “I’m going to call someone to help you. Maybe they can give you something to help you sleep.”

Julio tackled me to the floor. “You have to listen to me, damn it! Listen! They’ve hidden away more Americans than just us, so they can experiment on them more. Some of them are still up there on the Bridgeway just waiting at the beck and call. Leave them frozen until they’re needed.”

I squirmed away from him enough to grab the leg of a small side table. I smashed it across his upper back and head. Dazed, his grip loosened. I wiggled my legs out from underneath him, but he charged again, grabbing the back of my nightshirt. Threads tore as he dragged me down again. This time, he clawed his way on top of me and got his hands around my throat. He squeezed hard like he wanted to snap my neck in half, yelling for me to listen to him. I punched and clawed at his arms, fighting and kicking. Anything to free myself as a burning sensation heated up my lungs.

“You’re one of them!” He shouted, his eyes crazed. “They got to you. You can’t tell them anything—I won’t let you!”

My bedroom door slammed open. Several people ran into my bedroom and wrestled him off me. I rolled onto my side and grabbed my neck, struggling to suck air into my writhing lungs.

The orderlies threw Julio on my bed where a man wearing a pair of black slacks sedated him. Dr. Tommen knelt on the floor next to me, but I waved him away. I didn’t want anyone touching me. For all I knew, they did this to him.

About the Author:

Amazon best-selling author, V.G. Harrison, enjoys creating smart heroines who are more comfortable dealing with things like Fine-structure constant and quantum entanglement than the fallout from their conflict. She loves to write stories that leave her audience so engaged they can't sleep at night, thinking about the possibilities.

V.G. holds a Bachelors in Biomedical Engineering and a Masters in Information Technology. When she's not writing, she's an IT manager for a healthcare information systems company.

Her ever-growing list of hobbies include astronomy, attending comic cons, keeping an eye on the cryptocurrency and stock markets, hydroponics gardening, hiking, and connecting with her daughter, A.J., on a cool level. Building Lego sets at night with milk and cookies on the side come in handy for that.

www.vgharrison.com

https://www.vgharrison.com/blog-1

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inkintheinternet · 1 year ago

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The Fairytale of Light

By Arjuwan Lakkdawala

Ink in the Internet

I'm a writer and an ardent reader, I have authored two fiction stories. Spellrainia, and The Chains. I've read a lot of fiction, science fiction, and fantasy books throughout my life, played videos games in the genre of fantasy as well. I'm now 42 years old, what I've learned at this point is that reality is way more stranger than fiction can ever be. And science is way more magical than any fantasy.

I often hear fans of the genre of fantasy claim that it's so magical, that the authors' imaginations are incredible. I have myself sang praises of C.S. Lewis (The Chronicles of Narnia). And Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland) to name a few of the luminaries of the classics.

And they are deserving of the praise. However, I was not prepared for what I was going to discover as I made my transition from fantasy fiction to mainly science reading. Before I get into that I must praise science fiction writer Jules Verne (Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, and many other fantastic books) who really drew a line that connected the magic of science with fantasy in a way I don't think any writer has been able to accomplish after him.

With that said when it comes to fantasy I think I can sum up the premise of it in mentioning a few characters and things. Boy/Girl on quest/adventure, dragons, griffins, unicorns, invisibility cloaks, wands, fairies, wizards/witches, school of magic, and I think we are basically done.

What we truly see in these types of stories is not the unthinkable or a challenge to the intellect. They are aesthetic to the mind and are hopes of what we cannot do but would be so wonderful if we could.

After my two books my interest had completely turned towards becoming a scholar of the sciences. I'm an aspiring scientist. I may never get the title but I will my entire life pursue independent research to educate myself and teach whatever I learn by writing articles.

Having an inquisitive mind that is inclined towards healthy curiosity like the universe is a sophisticated trait to have instead of gossip.

Science has stunned me because I have never read anything in fantasy or fiction that goes beyond what would be considered unthinkable. In science I have truly found the unthinkable and the unimaginable, and it took years for many scientists to each pick up where the other had left off, after no less than a lifetime of research and study.

So I cannot state enough how valuable is the information and knowledge that has accumulated in our scientific database. We are so fortunate that the Internet gives us access to so much of these treasures.

Please excuse my mini intro I just had to express how amazed I am and how fortunate I feel and grateful to be able to learn and write.

When I think about the world needless to say there is so much to think about, and one cannot think of everything at once. We have to breakdown the pictures and study the marvels of science one subject at a time.

In this article I want to focus on light. This simple bright thing is infinitely complex and has many forms. Even in this era scientists don't fully understand it.

So let us start with some simple questions: What is light? What was the first light in our observable universe?

In basic quantum theory light is electromagnetism or we can say packets of energy called photons.

There is light we can see and light we cannot see. The visibility region of light depends on its wavelength. Typically the human eye can see light between the wavelengths of 388 to 700 nanometers. We cannot see light which is in the longer wavelength region known as infrared region, and we cannot see light in the shorter wavelength region known as ultraviolet region.

We might think that the first light in our universe started with the Big Bang (a leading theory). Because we intuitively think of the Big Bang as an explosion when it's a sudden expansion of the universe at speeds faster than light.

Albert Einstein had said that nothing in the universe can travel faster than light, that however does not include the universe itself.

I'll explain why the Big Bang could not have been bright according to the science. An example that is usually given is that it was foggy like a cloud. When we see a cloud we can only see the surface where the light was last scattered, the water molecules in the cloud disperse light.

The Big Bang had a temperature that was so high that light couldn't travel from it into the universe. It took 300,000 years for it to cool down enough for the first light - the afterglow to spread in the universe. This light is known as the Cosmic Microwave Background radiation. It is everywhere and if you turn on the TV without cable the static that you see is the signal of the CMB.

We cannot see this light glowing because as light travels vast distances it gets stretched and this reduces its brightness. However the CMB is a very valuable phenomena as it carries with it information from the birth of our universe.

Regarding the Big Bang theory there is another fascinating theory attached to it, and that is the Multiverse. Scientists agree that the model of the Big Bang could allow for the possibility of Multiverses.

What is the theory of the Multiverse?

That when the cosmic inflation happened many universes were formed as bubbles, and our universe is in one of these bubbles and there are other universes in other bubbles, and each universe might have its own laws of physics.

Light is also known to be a colourful thing. Take the rainbow for example after the rain or when we see it through a prism. From a fantasy point of view the rainbow will always remind me of the animated series Rainbow Brite.

The rainbow scientifically is equally fascinating. As I saw on an episode of Be Smart recently (Youtube), the rainbow has streaks of dark lines, the missing light is due to the interactions of the photons with elements on the surface of the sun and in Earth's atmosphere. As the photons travel the electrons they bump into absorb bits of light changing the energy of the electrons.

In fact scientists can know which elements light has interacted with by the missing light on an Absorbtion Spectrum, when light passes through a prism. This is so useful since we cannot take samples from the sun to know what's in it, but the light coming from it can reveal the elements in it. Even the Mars Curiosity Rover uses it to discover elements on Mars. There are prints of elements from on the sun that haven't been identified, it could be because they don't exist on Earth.

I'm speaking in brief terms about light in this article, because I'm myself still learning about it.

So what does light do apart from making things visible?

A question that has deeply intrigued me is does light have the ability to move things? Can it bring physical change?

I think the first thought that would come to mind is photosynthesis. The dominant source of metabolism on Earth. But before I get into how light effects Earth let us think about it in the universe. It is said that Earth was seeded with the building blocks of life by many supernovae that exploded, they unlike the Big Bang where bright.

The first stars formed probably from hydrogen and helium, and little amounts of lithium, and then heavy elements that life on Earth depends on were formed from these.

Example of heavy elements:

Carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorous. Heavy elements are supposed to have an atomic number that is greater than 92.

Now let us think about how light effects Earth.

What is photosynthesis?

It is a process in which most plants absorb sunlight and with water make oxygen, and chemical energy stored in glucose. Herbivores need plants to get their energy, and carnivores eat herbivores and this sustains the circle of life on Earth.

Plants, algea, and some types of bacteria can do photosynthesis.

Then there is chemosynthesis which doesn't need sunlight.

It occurs in bacteria and other microorganisms in oceanic or inland waters.

It is basically a process in which organic matter (energy for the microorganism) is made from inorganic matter like hydrogen or hygrogen sulfide.

Speaking of microorganisms I think at this point much like speculation about the start of our universe, we can speculate about the start of life on Earth.

First I would need here to explain that inorganic matter and organic matter is the different assortment of atoms. Chemically many types of organic matter can be made from inorganic matter with the right type of natural environment.

So in speculation perhaps the start of life on Earth was from inorganic matter that joined to make H2O (water), heat cycles warmed and cooled that water and radiation one of the forms of light introduced elements and maybe even helped in the configuration of atoms and molecules in the water that become the appropriate environment for the first life form to appear. I say speculation because like the Big Bang no one knows how life started on Earth and why we haven't detected any form of it elsewhere in our Solar System, despite there being frozen water on other planets and moons.

Scientists have still not figured out consciousness or animal instincts or what is a soul.

Astrobiologist look for extraterrestrial life by studying matter in simulation of different environments that could be in space or other planets. While in the past it was mainly considered impossible for life to exist in space, recent studies have shown that there are microorganisms that can survive the journey through space. It is speculated that maybe microorganisms were introduced to Earth via comets or meteorites.

In an article on Neuroscience news.com posted on 16, Oct 2023.

It says: "Scientists from top Institutions describe a groundbreaking Discovery: The Missing Law of Nature."

The study has been titled: 'Law of Increasing Functional Information.'

It says that evolution is not something that can only happen in living systems, but can extend to atoms, stars, and minerals.

The study says that when configuration happens in these inorganic systems that increases functionality it is evolution. But what are the forces behind the configuration? The article states many physics phenomena like electromagnetism among other things.

Another discovery that I found interesting is posted on 12, October 2023 on Physics.org from the Minnesota University. The article is titled: "Surprising Discovery Shows that Electron Beam Radiation can Repair Nanostructures." The article says the discovery was made by accident when crystals were being studied for cracks in them, but the beam repaired the cracks when the atoms by themselves under the affect of the beam filled the cracks.

So this discovery with what we learned about the missing light in rainbows tells us that photons interact with electrons, and it is scientifically an established fact. I know in this study it was a beam of electrons but as radiation. Now photons and electrons are known to behave like waves and particles under specific conditions. This nature of photons is called wave-particle duality.

As I said there is so much to study about any scientific subject. I'll end this article here with the mention of Solar Sails, which is the idea to use the momentum of light to propel spacecrafts through space at 10% the speed of light.

Arjuwan Lakkdawala is an author and independent journalist. Twitter/Instagram: Spellrainia

email: [email protected]

Sources: Photosynthesis - National Geogrphic

Extreme Tech - The Sun's rainbow why are there so many colours missing

By Sebastian Anthony October 2, 2013

NASA - A foggy universe...origin of the microwave background

NOAA Oceanic Explorations - What is the difference between photosynthesis and chemosynthesis?

Biology Online - Chemosynthesis

ESA - Cosmic Microwave Background (CMB) radiation

Space.com - Our Universe May Exist in a Multiverse, Cosmic Inflation Discovery Suggests

By Miriam Kramer

published March 18, 2014

Space.com - What is the cosmic microwave background?

By Elizabeth Howell, Daisy Dobrijevic

published January 28, 2022

Space.com - What is the Big Bang Theory?

By Andrew May, Elizabeth Howell

last updated July 26, 2023

Planck Satellite - UK Outreach Site - Cosmic Microwave Background

Webb Space Telescope - What Were the First Stars Like?

Short answer: We don’t really know.

Stanford University - Interactions of Photons With Matter

Nagwa - Question Video: Describing the Electron According to Modern Atomic Theory Chemistry

ESA - Energy=light=radiation=temperature

Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory - Discovery of Elements 113 and 115

Konica Minolta - Precise Colour Communication

Physics.org - When was the first light in the universe?

by Fraser Cain , Universe Today

Neuroscience news.com - Unveiling Nature’s Missing Law: Evolution Beyond Biology

Featured Neuroscience

·October 16, 2023

Britannica - Matter Rays

Science Direct - Water Worlds in the Solar System

Planetary.org - What is Solar Sailing

#science #Arjuwan Lakkdawala #ink in the Internet #physics #photosynthesis #chemosynthesis #radiation #light #fairytale #jules verne #c.s. lewis #Lewis carroll #alice in wonderland #narnia #rainbow #the law of increasing functional information #discovery

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books · 3 years ago

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Writer Spotlight: Ryan North

Ryan North (@ryannorth) is a New York Times-bestselling and Eisner-winning writer who once messed up walking his dog so badly it made the news. His recent work includes the nonfiction How To Invent Everything, the semi-fictional graphic novel adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five, and the so-far-fictional Unbeatable Squirrel Girl series for Marvel. Ryan lives in Toronto, where he writes for video games, television, and his long-running webcomic Dinosaur Comics. We chatted with him about his new book, How to Take Over the World: Practical Schemes and Scientific Solutions for the Aspiring Supervillain. Be sure to click through to the end for dinosaurs.

So, what made you want to create a guide to taking over the world? What makes you qualified to be taking on this very important public service?

I've been writing superhero comics for Marvel and DC for years, and part of the job is coming up with these big ambitious charismatic plots for the villains to pull off (throwing your enemies into the sun, digging a hole to the Earth's core, becoming immortal, that sort of thing). I thought it would be fun to explore how credible they are here in the real world, where we don't have things like shrink rays and mind-control helmets. So really, it's a book exploring the edges of science and technology through the lens of comic book supervillainy.

That, and I think having a book in your house with "HOW TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD" on the spine is inarguably awesome.

Who is this book for? What makes an aspiring supervillain?

One thing I kept in mind when writing the book is that I always wanted to talk about super-crime, big huge heists that have never been done before, rather than the stuff that happens routinely here in the real world. Robbing a bank is normal crime. Stealing a bank is when you get into the fun space of super-crime.

There are a couple reasons for that: real-world villainy is horrible and dehumanizing, and I'm absolutely not qualified to write about it, but the idea of trying to pull off comic book super-crime in the real world is interesting and fun, and I am absolutely willing and able to think those plots through to their logical conclusions. You want a secret base? Terrific, but you're going to need a way to keep it secret—so let's look at the challenges of living long-term at sea, or underground, or underwater, or in space, or on Mars, etc. And henchpeople require air and food and water—so now we need to think about farming in these conditions and generating power to support all of that. But really, the biggest challenge is that people also get weird and sad when locked alone together, so let's lock eight people in a room together for two years and see what happens, by which I mean, let's study the IRL Biosphere 2 experiment where they did precisely that, and everyone went more than a little crazy. As soon as you take these plots seriously and start thinking things through to their logical conclusions, a lot of really interesting science and history and sociology falls out.

In the book, I define supervillainy as when someone outside existing power structures accomplishes something that's not getting done on its own. The fun thing about that is that the exact same definition applies to superheroes. So really, it's for anyone who wants to learn more about the world around them through this fun fictional lens, and especially those who have read the news and thought, "You know what? I could do it better."

Given a choice, which scheme would be your preferred mode of world domination, and why?

There's a chapter where we look at the problem of immortality, which sounds like complete fantasy until you look at all these tech bros who desperately don't want to die and are spending fabulous amounts of money on trying to delay it for as long as possible, or even indefinitely. We look at the actual science of aging and the technologies people are trying to develop to stop it, but for me, the most interesting part happens when you say, "okay, so assume any of this works. What then?"

Put aside the fact that very few people would look at our planet with seven billion people on it and say, "You know what? This world needs more people. Oh, and they should never die." Also, put aside the fact that death is a safety valve on human civilization, where even the worst people we've ever produced can't hang on to power forever because they too will die. The real issue is whether you put your chips on cryonics or uploading your brain to a computer or cloning or telomere extension or whatever. These are all medical or technological interventions, which means they all cost money—and the second you have an immortality scheme that costs money, you've created this almost cartoonish dystopia where rich people get to live forever, and poor people don't. I don't see a way around it—immortality is something that would absolutely be horrible for both the planet and for us as a civilization.

But!

If you're the only one who's immortal—if you discover it and hide it from the world and never share your technology, then all those issues just disappear. Now immortality is just this fun thing you're doing, and the rest of the world doesn't have to suffer. You get all the benefits of living indefinitely, learning more than the rest of us ever will, and nobody else has to suffer! For me, that's the peak supervillain mindset: wanting to make the world a better place but ending up helping only yourself. That's the scheme in the book I'd do. Not take over the place, but just...stick around and watch it for a lot longer.

What's your writing process like? How do you merge the scientific bits with the fun bits?

When I'm writing, I'm also reading, so I'm always trying to keep myself entertained. If it was boring to write, it'll be boring to read! And when I'm re-reading, I'm always looking for ways to keep it funny. I believe we learn so much easier when we're having fun, so that's what I'm always trying to hit.

That said, my process is to write alone where nobody can see me because when I'm writing jokes, the only way to know that they're working is if I make myself laugh, and it's so embarrassing to be that guy at the coffee shop who's typing and then pausing to laugh out loud at his own stuff. Just mortifying. I, therefore, write in an empty room to hide from the shame of my craft, lol.

What does the Tumblr of an aspiring supervillain look like? What's it called? What does it contain? Are they vocal about their super-villainy, or are they more of a lurker?

Okay, so Doctor Doom's Tumblr is clearly full of reblogs with his self-aggrandizing additions in the tags, and he's probably got a macro to type out "#FOOLS!!" because he uses it so often. He's also always starting fights with strangers and secretly proud when a post he started gets a ton of notes because Doom conquers all.

On the other hand, someone like Poison Ivy definitely has this really beautiful, well-curated feed. She fills it with some really compelling environmental arguments and gorgeous pictures of her plants. You probably wouldn't even notice she's a villain until she takes over Gotham with giant venus flytraps that can also walk around somehow.

And finally, someone like the Riddler just has the worst Tumblr in existence, auto-playing midi files and sparkles that follow your cursor around, except the sparkles are question marks. It's filled with old memes, and he keeps posting bad riddles that you can easily Google the answers to, and it's pretty clear he got them off Google too.

These are my correct opinions.

How do you get someone to publish a book that incites world dominance?

Haha, well, I don't expect anyone to actually do any of the schemes in the book—mainly because I priced them all out, and you need 56 billion dollars, all in, just to start! But the real answer is that using a fictional lens to explore actual nonfiction is something that works. It's a fun thought experiment!

Can you talk about working with illustrator Carly Monardo?

Carly is the best, and I was so pleased to work with her on this. Basically, I'd call her up, and I'd talk about the chapter and what I thought an illustration could be for various parts, and she'd say, "okay, but what about this idea instead" and come up with something way better.

It was her idea to have a single supervillain recur throughout the book—so as you're learning these plots, this character's doing them right alongside you, and you have this companion throughout. She's so great (both Carly and the supervillain we came up with), and her work totally elevates the book.

That said, in the end, I asked her what we should name our new supervillain, and she said, "Patricia." And I said, "Why?" and she said, "So that her full name is Patricia Chaddams," and I said "Why?" and she said, "So then, for short, her name is Pat Chaddams," and I said "Huh?" and she said, "So that way it sounds like the 1998 Robin Williams vehicle Patch Adams." So uh, I suppose you take the good with the bad.

What's the best piece of advice you've ever received as a writer? Do you have any advice for budding writers of humorous science-based nonfiction?

In comics, the best advice I ever got was "your fundamental unit of story is the page," which means to always keep in mind how it'll work when it's printed and in someone's hand and how turn-the-page reveals work. But when you're writing prose, that doesn't apply because you don't (usually) know where on the page your words will land!

My best advice for people interested in science writing, science communication, or really any sort of writing is this: read outside your genre. People who only read comics end up writing comics that sound an awful lot like the comics that already exist. People who only read nonfiction write nonfiction that's also very samey. But when you read stuff that doesn't typically cross over, you're seeing stuff that others aren't, and you can start drawing connections nobody else is seeing. Don't turn your nose up at other genres just because they're not what you normally read or write. I would much rather read a sci-fi novel from someone who's read a ton of steamy romance novels than someone who's only read a bunch of other sci-fi novels, you know?

Who's your favorite supervillain of all time?

Doctor Doom. He's a scientist who wears a metal suit, and he knows magic. Plus, he's got a cape. What's not to like?

After perfecting schemes to take over the world, what's next for you?

Keep writing Dinosaur Comics (@qwantzfeed baby!) and hopefully keep getting to write weird little books that get to do things like "take an absurd premise absolutely seriously." It's my new favorite genre.

#writer spotlight #ryan north #How to Take Over the world #Practical Schemes and Scientific Solutions for the Aspiring Supervillain #reading room #reading recs #book recs #suppervillainy #humor #science #booklr #writers on tumblr #writing advice #dinosaurs!

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

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first of all can i just say congrats on the 500 like i'm so happy for you and you absolutely deserve it (huge bear hug :) ) now i had this crazy hcs idea and i immediately thought of you so long story short how would Karasuno , Aoba Johsai and Nekoma react to their sweet manager having powers similar to those of scarlet witch (marvel) or mirajane strauss (fairytail anime) feel free to pick whichever one is easier and thank you so much for indulging my crazy request. love u lots - safiyah <3333

oh my goodness thank you sm for your words here’s a bear hug <3 also also i was literally just thinking just how cool it would be to have like a supernatural au haikyuu thing and then you send me this wow we on some mind reading shit. anyways i really hope you like this. sorry it’s like hq on crack if you want a serious one lemme know hsjkhsk

karasuno high

they lose their shit.

every single one of them.

mentally they’re all like 12 (except daichi and mqybe ennoshita) so i definitely think they’d have a very childish reaction to it.

it’s so endearing though.

they find out while walking you home one night: it’s very stormy and they just wanted to make sure you get home safe because they worship the ground you walk on. cue like a fucking billboard nearly falling on you and the group of boys and your instincts just kick in and you stop it mid air.

noya’s still screaming even after everyone’s just gone silent and is gawking at the fact a billboard (or whatever the object is i can’t think rip) is hovering above them. in mid air. because of you. what the fuck?

daichi’s blood pressure drops he’s like somebody catch me im about to faint wtf is going on.

you kinda freak and just toss it away and run your way back home, as far away from the boys as possible.

but alas, you’re their manager, and you have duties to fulfill. so you show up to practice the next morning terrified for your life.

you’re not really sure why you’re so scared and nervous. you just are? it’s a huge part of who you are and it’d be a big bummer if the most important boys in your life didn’t accept it.

noya greets you with a really big hug

tanaka’s so loud but what’s new <3

daichi and suga just come up to you and gently ask if you’re okay because you ran off so quick yesterday

they all act super normal during practice but you can tell

you can tell

they want to ask so many questions they’re gonna explode

after practice, when coach ukai and takeda leave, and it’s just you, kiyoko, and the boys, it’s s o quiet. you would hear a pin drop.

you just sigh and go “you can ask”

your poor eardrums </3

they’re so fascinated by everything you say

kiyoko’s like “i had a hunch” like how do u have a hunch about something like this anyways what a queen

noya’s like “make me fly”

and tsukki in the back “drop him on his ass pls”

they definitely make you do so many things for them with it

cleaning duty is now on you because hello !! you can move things with your mind !!

kags doesn’t get it. he’s like. ok? and ? i can set volleyballs perfectly, hinata can jump really high despite his height, she can move things with her mind? so what?

i love him

they’re also crazy good at keeping it a secret?

not hinata tho he slips up so often like thank god the secret isn’t realistic or believable

he’ll be like “oh yeah? well our manager can move things with her mind!”

and suga just has to usher him away with a pained smile like “yeah she’s so incredible haha” while doing that thing moms do where they squeeze or pinch your shoulder if they’re mad at you in public

it feels like a weight lifted off your shoulders when they find out because the closer you grew to these boys, the more they felt like family to you.

aoba johsai

my favorite team

i hc makki as someone that smokes weed. pls don’t try to convince me otherwise. look at him. he’s a pothead <3

this is going somewhere i swear.

so you’re a 3rd year manager, meaning you’ve been with these boys a while now, specifically the third years of the team, so y’all are pretty close.

how they find out: it’s like 3am on a weekend, the seijoh 4 and some of the second years. you’d baked a cake with like all of them all at once in the kitchen, so it was now a mess, so you’re attempting to clean it up as fast as you can the way you know best — with your hands and your mind. makki walks in, high as shit, sees this and just.

“damn must be the weed.”

you don’t hear him. so. uh oh.

he was probably sent there by iwa to get water or something, so iwaizumi walks in and just yells so loud “what the fuck!”

it’s like they’re all summoned by this. they eventually all pile into the kitchen and you’re literally just frozen in fear with pots and pans and utensils and specks of flour hovering by you. and then you maintain eye contact with iwa as you lift one hand and direct the pans into a cupboard and slowly shut it.

“so it’s not the weed?”

they honestly. don’t act any different tbh

it’s like an added feature of yours that they appreciate.

oikawa asks you to read his mind to test if what happened that night was real and you just lift him up from off his seat.

“i asked you to read my mind tho hm”

yeah mind reading is just a regular thing now. they will slyly ask you to read the other team’s minds during a match and you’re like no that’s cheating. but you do. and you subtlety give them advice. like “hm i wonder if that team’s gonna do this specific attack”

also oikawa asks (read:begs) u to like help them make it through to nationals

you say “will it feel like a true accomplishment if i do?”

shuts his pretty face up <3

they also make you like. toss volleyballs to them. but with your mind. multiple of them. they take it as some stupid challenge idk these boys are dumb i love them

they also love throwing things at. YOU. LIKE WTF?

like haha dodgeball but it’s a group of 6’0+ athletes against just. you.

sounds fair

they also become insanely protective of you after they find out. idk how that clicks w them but. yes.

especially mattsun and iwa ? like men. relax.

anyways they would abuse the shit out of your powers genuinely but it’s okay it’s out of love <3

nekoma high

they. they’re idiots. all of them.

kuroo would probably be like but scientifically ! this makes zero sense

omg kenma would lose his MIND.

HES A GAMER BRUH

HED BE OBSESSED W YOU.

but lowkey bc none of that simp shit </3

ooou okay so you’re at a training camp and they sneak you in with them so you guys can play truth or dare

bc yk. you’re kids.

and y’all are going around and you just pick truth and someone asks what’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept from us and they expect some dirty shit they’re nasty smh

and then you straight up go “i can move things w my mind”

and theyre like ok miss stop playin fr

keep in mind it’s dark as hell in the dormitory and eerily quiet and you shift one of the chairs in there, and it squeaks loudly

yamamoto jumps and looks at you w so much fear in his eyes. “that wasn’t you”

“bet?”

and then suddenly all chairs are moving all at once and yamamato deadass screams

kuroo’s shrugging like. “it’s just the wind,” like ur not in a closed off room w all the windows shut whatever u say sir <3

lev’s like

gone into shock. seriously someone go get him water or something.

when morning comes they’re all like hella scared to approach you except kenma and kuroo bc kenma— is in awe. kuroo — does not believe it.

you’re kinda :( that they’re scared of you and you approach them after the day is over and just apologize, and tell them you didn’t mean to scare them and that you’d never hurt them or even consider it.

they do a 180 bruh they just all go “awwwwww” and suffocate you in a group hug so you shove them all off for good measure lmao

kuroo still doesn’t believe it until you save his ass in broad daylight and he’s like ok maybe it wasn’t fake so what sue me

whenever there are training camps where other schools come they beg u to help them prank the boys

especially bokuto and hinata

and you do obviously

it’s hilarious watching them scream as something moves slightly. you never do it that it’s suspicious just enough to be like did that happen or is my mind messing w me rn

scarlet witch also has the ability to mess w people’s mind in the literal sense and whenever one of the boys pisses you off particularly you just make them see their biggest fear

kenma asks you to reenact some of his favorite gameplays for him

it’s literally just roleplay and you couldn’t care less someone catches the two of you you’re no pussy you can admit when you’re having fun

overall a very chaotic reaction

they don’t treat you any different they’re just like 100x more hyped about who you are. like the fact that you’re their manager is already a blessing and now this !!!

incredible <3333

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #karasuno x reader #aoba johsai x reader #nekoma x reader #haikyuu au

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romanticchemacademic · 3 years ago

Text

Dear future health professionals and stem professors,

We need a revolution of thought. Only through a renaissance of pure and genuine passion towards medicine and other sciences will we have competent doctors, nurses, other healthcare workers, and teachers. We live in a world where people pursue noble professions for the sake of social and economic advancement. However, we lack individuals who love the process of learning and their career.

I recollect quite a marvelous excerpt written by one of the world’s greatest scientific minds, Albert Einstein. In his book, The World As I see It he writes:

ACADEMIC CHAIRS ARE MANY, but wise and noble teachers are few; lecture rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who genuinely thirst for truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.

We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what nature gives as one finds it. But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred years ago with that prevailing today. They had faith in the amelioration of human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our classics had lived and fought.

I believe that one of the faults lies within education institutions. Educators rely on testing, textbooks, and detached memorized lectures. Lectures lack passion and another essential factor: the real practice. The theory is important but the practice is necessary to understand the theory. But without passion, nobody will learn to love the material being taught. Ibn Sina is known for being one of the greatest physicians and teachers of Islamic medicine. I am not completely sure whether what I am about to mention is true. But I read that when he lectured theory to the medical students at the Madrassa (University) he would show them how it worked. Besides medical history and theory. He also taught physics, astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics. However, he is also famed for being an excellent teacher duly because he would take his students to test out the theories and practice what they have been taught. If they were learning medical theory, they were taken to the hospital to observe patients and their cases. If they were learning astronomy, they would all gather in the evening to look up at the heavens to look at the constellations. Lastly, his passion for his vocation was the final touch. Educators without the drive cannot teach. Learning is about understanding oneself, others, and the world. Learning evolves our minds and our spirits by making us get in harmony with the universe. I believe this ties in with Aristotle’s famous saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Though my interpretation may be a wee bit off, I translate it as thus; we can gather all textbook knowledge as possible but if we do not put into practice the knowledge learned, what is the point? I yearn and I pine to experience all that I have learned. I want to see why the theory makes sense in reality. I want to conduct experiments. So much potential is being wasted. Biology is the study of life. However, when I took the course, it was so cold to a point that it did not even feel like I was studying the human body but something alien instead. There is also such a rush to memorize material within a couple of weeks because of exams that the material ceases to be interesting and becomes more of an arduous chore instead. Our sense of time-shifted completely after the industrial revolution. Perhaps this is a reason why we feel the need to rush through everything and not take our time to study profoundly.

We need another Scientific Revolution, curious minds thirsting for the acquisition of knowledge and unanswered questions. However, I believe that the leading force behind this is a necessity. I would like to mention an example to illustrate what I mean from a novel I read a while ago called, The Physician by Noah Gordon. A boy from Medieval Europe lost his mother from an unknown disease leaving him orphaned. He then grew up with the necessity to learn what the disease was and how to prevent other similar deaths, so that others do not suffer what he has suffered. He then worked with Barbers (people who performed medical procedures in Medieval Europe). But the medical knowledge these professionals had was not enough to answer his question. Thus, he traveled to Persia where there was a quite renowned and exclusive medical school. He did not have the economic means or previous schooling to attend but he impressed the headmaster with his passion and knowledge. Thus, the headmaster admitted him into the Madrassa. The European boy then invested all his time doing research, dissections and treating patients until he finally found out what ailment caused his mother’s death, side sickness (appendicitis). He figured out a way to treat this illness, removal of the appendix. From his initial necessity which was the driving force for him to pursue a medical career, he became a famous physician and felt that all his suffering and odyssey were worthwhile. The sense of necessity leads to the feeling of passion. It was his love for his mother that made him follow such a journey full of obstacles. I am beginning to apply that to my own life. I want to figure out my necessity which will be the driving force to power through university and medical school without ever feeling burnt out. I want to feel fulfilled. I believe this is what all pre-medical students and teachers should think about. What is your necessity? We are going to be dealing with human life, someone’s mother, father, friend, sister, uncle, lover, husband, or child...It is not something to be taken lightly. I know so many doctors lacking empathy because they went into the medical field with just the intention of being acknowledged as “Doctors” and getting rich. But I feel that even the most apathetic healthcare workers can become great empathetic professionals the moment they realize that something was triggered deep inside them, perhaps a loved one having an unknown disease. This would lead the apathetic doctor to do mass amounts of research to try to find a cure. This feeling becomes a necessity. A necessity to not lose the loved one. A necessity to save lives. Thus, finding passion, purpose, and becoming a better person. Though each person is different, we all share a selfish feeling. Most of the time we do not truly care about other peoples’ suffering until it happens to us. Once we are affected by something, we drive all our time and attention to find a solution or a way to deal with a problem. We become consumed and completely obsessed by it. I regard this as passion. I do not think passion subsides, it lingers on inside us. It is a fire that never burns out. I remember my high school teacher writing in my yearbook:

Remember a few things, BE PATIENT. You are eager and you will accomplish so much. But take your time, you are always rushing. Life is a journey, it is not about the destination. Be picky. You love everything with enthusiasm but enthusiasm can burn out. Find a fire inside yourself that burns for a long time.

-V

We cannot rush our personal legend. I believe it comes to us. It is Maktub (it’s written). But we also have to do something. Imagine you are on a stranded island but you have a machete, a fishing rod, coconuts, a cave for shelter, wood for a fire, an ocean full of fish. Everything required for survival is there, but you simply have to cut open the coconut with the machete, go fishing for food, fire to cook, and warmth. The fish isn’t going to swim right into your hands and the fire will not light itself. We must use our resources and do our bit. The Universe has a lot going on, we must help out a bit.

If you ever think about quitting, try to remember what made you start your odyssey in the first place. I do not know what my necessity is yet but that is okay. I believe it will come to me eventually. So for now, I simply love to romanticize academia. I like to imagine the: earthy tones of the universities archways, cobblestone paths, laboratories with clean Erlenmeyer flasks, beakers, pristine white lab coats, bunsen burner flames changing colors as different salts are added, Bromothymol Blue pen stains, elegant calculations inside a worn leather-bound notebook, formulas scrawled over the blackboard, forgotten cold Irish breakfast tea on the desk, academics discussing theories, applause from a successful experiment, gray rainy days spent inside the lab, Whitman, Hemingway, et Sir Arthur Conon Doyle being read during break, intellectual conversations with professors, chemistry reports being written, molecular models built, volumes of ancient words, fire slowly burning in the stone fireplace, trying to understand, looking at the constellations on a clear night in the astronomy tower, reciting poetry, Tchaikovsky playing whilst completing a long lab report on Lê Chatelier’s theory of Equilibrium, curious minds, sleepless evenings in the library, beautiful anatomical illustrations...Just imagining these things motivate and inspire me to continue my path. Though it may seem superficial, it awakens something inside me. I yearn and I pine to become a Chemistry Romantic.

I want to conclude this letter by saying that pupils and educators keep ideals alive and can change them accordingly as well. We have the power to become excellent professionals or simply exist and do nothing for the human race. But if you plan on becoming a physician or educator, you must find the trigger which brings your passion to life, your necessity. Once you find that, you are guaranteed greatness and fulfillment. However, do not rush. Perfection takes time. A couple of obstacles should not hinder you from persevering. Many will tell you to give up but do not. That is the Universe testing you. Do your best until you master the topic. Once you know better, you are then able to do better.

Regards,

Confessions from a Chemistry Academic

#stem dark academia #dark academia #academia #stem #philosophy #academic universitylife #unilife #chemistry #medicine

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

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

Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #the new post editor is weird but I like that I can make things pink

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justatiredghost · 4 years ago

Text

Everything I ever wanted Ch3 Read More AO3

Dave died in Vietnam, but then he suddenly wakes up again in some sort of science facility. He has no idea what’s going on or where Klaus is, but he’s pretty sure he’s a prisoner. (The Commission has the technology to offer Five a new body, but since the Hargreeves siblings went on the run after failing to stop the apocalypse, they’ve managed to advance that technology even further.)

Dave jolted awake, half remembered memories of pain and terror spurring him on as he scrambled off of a bed, trying to get away while he still could because he wasn’t restrained anymore. He was moving too quickly, his stiff limbs protesting, but he didn’t want to waste this chance in case it was all he was going to get.

His legs gave out almost immediately and he fell to his hands and knees, a pain in his chest knocking the air from his lungs. He clutched at the spot, gasping, trying to catch his breath as agony radiated through his body. Then he remembered the gunfire, the blood, and seeing his own lifeless body laid out in front of him.

He clawed at his shirt in his panic, pulling it down enough to see, but there was no blood, not even a scar. He gagged at the memory, but he didn’t have anything in his stomach and ended up retching painfully. Once he’d regained himself, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and, while he waited for the world to stop spinning, glanced around to get his bearings. He might as well, nobody was trying to stop him yet, after all.

The room he was in was pristine, white walls and minimal furniture that looked generic enough that they probably duplicated them for hundreds of rooms that looked exactly like this one. It reminded him of the barracks, just without bunks filling every space available. It wasn’t a home and it wasn’t a hospital, just a place to sleep at night.

There were two doors, one propped open and leading to a small bathroom, the other large and heavy-looking, like the kind meant to keep someone inside, just without the bars. There was a huge window taking up most of the wall next to the door, but the glass was dark and opaque and he couldn’t see anything through it. Maybe it was just a bad mirror.

None of this made any sense. He had no idea where he was or what could be happening. At least he wasn’t tied down and kept company by his own corpse anymore. His stomach clenched threateningly. He wondered what they’d done to him. It felt absurd to even consider, but what if he really had died? What would that make him, some sort of clone? Was he even the same person?

But then, how was that even possible? All of this was so surreal. This sort of thing didn’t happen, not in real life. And definitely not to a nobody like him. Maybe this was all some sort of hallucination induced by whatever they were using to keep him under for surgery. Or maybe he was just dead. Whatever was going on, the one thing he was sure of was that he needed to get out of there.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up. The world swayed and his knees shook, but he didn’t fall this time. Using the bed and wall for support, he made his way towards the door. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any sort of doorknob or lock. It was just a solid surface. He pushed on it, banged on it with his fist, but nothing happened.

There was a solid looking white side table next to the bed, and, with a shrug, Dave picked it up and threw it at the window-mirror-thing. He put as much weight behind it as he could, but he just felt too weak and wasn’t surprised when it bounced off ineffectively. That didn’t stop him from trying a few more times, until he collapsed to the ground again, winded, his limbs feeling shaky like he’d been marching all day and night. It didn’t seem like he was getting out of here any time soon.

“It seems like a waste of time to me, but if it makes you feel better, by all means, please continue.”

The voice startled him and he looked up in surprise to find that the glass was no longer dark and opaque. Now, he could see through to the corridor outside and an older woman watching him with some amusement, smoking a cigarette. She crossed her arms, apparently pleased by the effect her entrance had had on him. Something about her unsettled Dave. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew this woman could be incredibly dangerous.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” he asked, clambering back up onto his feet, trying not to show how wary he was of her. “And where are the others? I was on the front line; where’s the rest of my squad?”

“My, aren’t we just full of questions,” she said with a chuckle. “Lets see. Where to begin? Well, you are at the Commission headquarters. The R&D department, specifically.”

“Can I leave? Or am I a prisoner.”

“You’re not even a tiny bit curious as to what the Commission is?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure you’d give me an honest answer.”

“Fair enough,” the woman sighed. “We do safeguard all of space and time, but very well. Moving on; the Umbrella Academy, or, the Hargreeves siblings, a name you’re no doubt familiar with, have been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately.”

Hargreeves? As in Klaus Hargreeves? He had mentioned the Umbrella Academy before, so it was possible. Dave nearly asked in his excitement, at this hint that he might still be alive, but he bit his tongue. He still didn’t know what she wanted and he didn’t want to give anything Klaus wouldn’t want her to have. So he simply stayed quiet and hoped his expression didn’t give him away. He doubted it. He never had been very good at that sort of thing.

“We’d like to strike a bargain with them; put an end to all this nonsense. This is where you come in. Since you were obviously close to one of its members, we brought you back as a sign of good faith.”

“Brought me back?” Dave echoed, worried he knew what the answer was going to be. He just needed to hear it.

“What we’ve done here is a scientific marvel, really,” the woman said, looking pleased with herself. “Sure, we can recreate a person’s body, keeping our employees at the top of their game, that’s easy. But bringing someone back from the dead? That took a bit of creativity. But I’m proud to say it worked in the end. Hopefully our next experiment will prove just as fruitful.”

Dave could hardly listen, too stunned to pay attention. So he really had died. He absently brought a hand up to rub at his chest, where he could so vividly remember the feeling of having a ragged hole ripped into him. He tried not to think about that. He tried not to think about how the grief on Klaus’ face had been the last thing he’d seen before it all went dark.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the here and now, like he did on the battlefield. He could have a breakdown or something later.

“So,” he said, taking a deep breath, hoping his voice would be steady. “What you’re saying is that you want to use me as leverage to bribe the Hargreeves to stop fighting against you?”

“‘Bribe’ is such a crude way to put it,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “We’re doing them a favor. And you, too. We can all come out of this with something we want.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Dave said. “I appreciate it and all, but maybe you should put me back where you found me. I won’t be part of anything that might put the Hargreeves in danger.”

“Oh, rest assured, that can definitely be arranged,” she said and her cruel smile made him certain that she would follow through with it without hesitation if the mood struck her. “We can certainly do this the hard way, too, but we’d much rather do this with your cooperation. It would be so much easier.”

Dave always had a feeling there was more going on with Klaus than he let on. He’d said some things, painting vague pictures that Dave still struggled to completely put together. It didn’t help that they’d been high for a lot of their discussions, too. But this seemed like some sort of secret government shit that Klaus had certainly never mentioned. It was all too big for Dave and he had no idea what to think. Except that he wouldn’t ever do anything that could put Klaus in danger.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I can’t help you,” he said, steeling himself for whatever was going to happen next. He half expected the woman to pull out a gun.

“Well,” she said, adjusting her hat as if it could be anything less than perfect. “The hard way it is, then.” She turned and left, the sound of heels clicking against the floor echoing along the corridor as the window went dark again.

Dave would have slumped to the floor in relief if his legs hadn’t given out first. They were trembling from exertion just from standing there. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so weak. Maybe this was just what it was like, being a clone. Or maybe he needed to rebuild whatever muscle he had had. Later, though. For now, he laid back on the carpet, completely exhausted.

Dave was a lot of things, but mostly he would describe himself as a disappointment in nearly every aspect of his life; with his family, with the military, everything. But the one thing he truly felt proud of was the way he had made Klaus smile, how happy he had seemed when they were together. If that was all he managed to accomplish in life, he would still consider it a success despite all of the other failures. That was the one thing that truly mattered. And he certainly wasn’t going to jeopardize all of that by working with a group that must have done some terrible things if Klaus had decided it was worth it to join up with the Umbrella Academy again.

That was good, though, wasn’t it? His family had never seemed like the most supportive people, but maybe they could patch things up and look out for each other. That’s what Dave hoped, at least. Klaus wouldn’t be alone, and he had his whole life ahead of him. He didn’t need Dave. He’d probably already moved on from him and was getting on just fine. He was a survivor.

Honestly, Dave felt a little bad for this Commission. He wasn’t really sure why they’d chosen him, he wasn’t special enough to use as some sort of bargaining chip. But even then, he wouldn’t want Klaus making any sacrifices for him, either. He didn’t even want to put Klaus in a situation where he had to make that sort of decision. So, he decided he needed to make sure he couldn’t be used against the Hargreeves in any way. He needed to escape, or die trying. If they killed him soon, maybe Klaus would never have to know. He wouldn’t have to grieve for him all over again.

#klaus hargreeves #klave #klaus x dave #dave katz #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #fanfic #everything i ever wanted #hello yes i am feeling desperate to post something new #for anyone still reading my fics #after so long #so here have this #sorry it's so short #anyway #this is post-season 1 #my fic

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purplerose244 · 4 years ago

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Belonging

Here again for the @toa-secret-santa of this year! So happy to participate again, I love these events! 😍😍 Hello @spellcasterdouxie, I’m your secret santa! Merry Christmas and festivities, hope you like my present! ❤

Summary: In which being stuck in New York to protect a magical being and save the world in the process is no excuse for not celebrating Christmas with your friends.

Also on AO3

So… Nari was a terrible liar.

Extremely powerful being, the purest pretty soul, but horrible at lying.

Douxie didn’t have the slightest idea of what she was plotting, granted that she used to be part of an evil congregation of wizards that wanted to take over using an ancient artifact – meh, like that was the weirdest coming from his friends –, but he was fairly sure that her claim regarding the leaking sink of the bathroom was some sort of decoy.

Did that convince him to ignore those big adorable puppy eyes?

“It looks good to me, but I’m gonna give it a double check just in case!”

“Thank you Douxie, much appreciated! Please make sure everything is working, do not overlook a single thing!” Absolutely not. He was a master wizard, not a beast.

Their little apartment was neither pretty nor particularly clean. Which considering the little money he accumulated over the years with all of his jobs back in Arcadia and given the fact that they were in New York City, was kind of a given. But it had a perfectly functional bathroom, basically a gift from above, or some kind of karma retribution from putting up with three different apocalypses in the same summer – and he had all suspicions that another one was coming, but possibly another season. That being said, he wasn’t sure why with her plant like appearance, Nari with all people was so interested into their sink. Besides maybe for spraying a bit of water over her head – one very curious and endearing scene really, like a pot plant watering itself.

Then again, he wasn’t completely sure why he was going along with it instead of asking directly what was this all about. Maybe he liked to study whatever thought somehow as peculiar as her could come up with. Maybe there was nothing else of particular interest to do while waiting for his mac and cheese to be ready… maybe that little nightmare of his from last night got him a little too down, and doing anything but think about it was a better solution than most. And it was a pretty annoying maybe, because dreams about his master were as common as breathing lately.

He thought he was over it. It was probably too soon… hopefully he was at least getting closer to the not too soon part of it.

One long silence followed, from which he was fairly sure he had heard a few whispers a little lower than Nari’s light tone. Great, what now? Was she actually plotting something?

“Is everything okay over there? Arch? Nari?”

“Fine, everything is fine! Keep checking please!”

“Are you serious?” Okay now it was ridiculous. “Nope, I’m getting over there, and you two better not be up to no good!” They were a surprisingly compatible pair, especially since his familiar had made it his mission to teach her the marvel of pranks – she wasn’t even malicious about it, that made it all even more devious somehow. Douxie left the wrench on the ground, getting out of the bathroom and towards the living room. “You all keep forgetting that I’m the master wizards here, so technically I’m in charge, so if you’re scheming something- Whoa, Mordrax’s miracles!”

The last thing he had expected, after leaving their lonely living room that was made of four faded walls with a random kitchen connected to it, was to get back to it completely transformed into a messy, happy Christmas themed little chamber.

Filled with very familiar faces.

“Merry Christmas, Teach!” Claire almost knocked him off his feet with that hug. She looked radiant, all wrapped up in one big purple sweater with ‘Feeling Wicked Sassy’ written on it – appropriate. Behind her Steve, Toby and Archie were all smiling.

“Sorry, you would not leave the house,” Nari looked all cozy and a little guilty in that big mint green sweater – with ‘Every Day is Green Day’ written on it, where did she get that? –, waving at him. “And it felt like claiming we were being attacked by Skrael and Bellroc was a bit excessive.” Thank goodness his roommate and protegee had some common sense – considering his latest adventure, more than him for sure.

Claire giggled, shrugging innocently.

“We honestly hoped you were that bad of a plumber and would give us more time…”

Douxie snickered, because this was ridiculously endearing and he loved it all already.

“Too bad I’m not completely hopeless.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Steve, it was Steve, not even worth turning around to recognize him. But a random fist bump, that much he could concede – especially with that massive blue sweater ‘Silent Knight, Holey Knight’ he had on, like really what was even that. “Ready to have the best time of your life?”

The master wizard arched an eyebrow.

“Said from you? Should we call the firefighter in advance? Or the police?” The blonde pouted very dramatically, Claire snickered. He had really missed these two. “Wow, this place looks amazing! The landlord can’t see this or she will force me to pay more for the rent.” His wallet was already gasping enough for breath and money. “All this stuff, all the decorations… is this beef?” Ah, that was why it all felt like such a sudden change, this paradisiac scent had definitely not been here before. “It smells delicious!”

“Thank you!” Second shock of the day, but Douxie could hardly blame himself considering the most time he had spent around Jim had been during his huge troll moments – he kinda looked like a twig now in comparison. “I’m pretty well known for my festive feasts.”

“Also known as festeasts!” Toby showed one enthusiastic victory sign, pulling off his orange ‘Rockin’ This Christmas’ with plenty of little gems and stones all around – the forever geologist.

Jim rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Tobes we’re not calling them that.” The Warhammer holder frowned, only to beam when he got handed a spoon for a taste. “I made most of this from home so it’s all ready and warm, but I wanted to make something on the place while I was at it. Freshly made food tastes way better on Christmas.” Toby hummed around the spoon, smacking his lips, then he rubbed his fingers together towards the chef, who caught it as to add more salt.

Douxie couldn’t help but scoot closer, peaking inside. That looked like food. That looked like real, delicious, extremely well-made food.

“What in the world, how did you make that?” Jim snorted.

“You moved on without much of a comment from me turning into a half-troll, a full troll and then back to a human, and this surprises you?”

“My friend, there were Thai leftovers, one instant ramen, an onion and an egg left in the fridge so yes, this surprises me!” All speculations died when he was offered a taste too. “… so it turns out I know nothing of magic. I must bow to the real master wizard here.” If happiness had a flavor it had to be this one. The former trollhunter snickered, giving him a little elbow before going back over his creations. And if the most classic ‘kiss the chef’ apron on him wasn’t already extremely fitting, the cyan sweater underneath reciting ‘I’m In The…’ on the back barely left to the imagination what list was written on the front.

A very well-deserved sign, really.

“Buttsnack’s managed to make these too, take a look!” Steve waved at the little counter that was the only thing remotely looking like a table in this place. And smelling just as heavenly as everything else, there they were, mince pies, just like the ones from Camelot. “But I don’t know if they’re as good because someone slaps my hand every time I- OUCH!! I didn’t even try this time!”

Archie’s tail could be surprisingly useful as a whip, in fact.

“You were thinking about it! So don’t, these are for later.” And wow, if his most loyal companion wasn’t absolutely adorable wearing that little red sweater – ‘Santa Paws’, he was going to complain about it all day long. Douxie wished he hadn’t left his phone in the bathroom. “We’re still waiting for the tree, the last decorations and the music. But we’re almost ready.” So apparently his familiar had been behind all of this. That actually made perfect sense.

Of course this little wizard associate had known this was going to do him good. It was the kind of bond that came with being around each other for over 900 years.

Archie smiled at him, and Douxie couldn’t not grin in return.

“Can’t wait for them! Even thought I did have some when we had that travel… well technically ages ago, we were actually in Camelot, but it wasn’t- Ah forget it, time loops are too confusing.” There was a consensual groan including all of them but Toby and Nari, who just looked at each other and shrugged. “Well, this is awesome, how did you even get everything here so fast?” On second thought, that was more than just bizarre. His eyes crossed Claire’s right away. “You get so tired with transportations through the Shadow Realm usually, and you got to bring along all of these people and decorations?” The thing was, this wasn’t supposed to be possible. Another thing was, Lady Claire of house Nunez was so insanely talented it would had not surprised him.

The girl waved her hand in denial.

“I wish I was at that level, but no. Still, we did travel back and forth pretty quickly.”

“Without magic? How?”

“I should take offense from that highly questioning tone.” Third shock, his poor heart – he came back from the grave once, and he really didn’t recommend it. He was fairly sure the apartment he had rented didn’t include interdimensional portals opening in the middle of the living room. “And from the fact that you humans keep forgetting I invented a perfectly functioning wormhole generator. But please, continue with your predicaments, ignore the scientific feat I’ve accomplished!” For an alien that barely understood human sarcasm, Krel Tarron was made a whole half of it.

As he walked in from the portal, holding one edge of a box filled with Christmas balls, on the other side Zoe stepped in carrying along the rest. And between a black ‘I’m Back, Witches’ sweater and a gray ‘DJ Kleb’ one with four sleeves, it was one curious and fantastic view.

“Yeah yeah, you bent the rules of physics, congratulations!” Zoe’s tense tone implied that she must had heard that complain already. “Stop talking and get working, I’m going the extra mile here!”

“This doesn’t sound like a good time to have a walk.”

“For the love of…!” The pink haired girl let out a muffled scream, let go of her edge of the box – lucky for Krel to have four arms to catch it – and jumped over the master wizard to grab his shoulders. “I hate you so much, you left me alone dealing with all of these new knuckleheads! Like the local dummies weren’t enough!” The collective offended ‘Hey!’ coming from both the Akiridion and the village’s idiot – a marvel that Steve actually responded, fully aware of his status as knucklehead – was somehow even more endearing than funny.

Meanwhile Zoe was still wrinkling his favorite jacket, frowning aggressively at him like the fact that he was out there saving the world was unforgivable – you could say anything about this pink head, but not that she didn’t have priorities.

Douxie snickered, easing the hold onto him.

“Sorry for trying to give my friends a place to live in this crazy wild world, then!”

“… apologies accepted.” Zoe narrowed her eyes. “But only if we finally hunt for niffins and get those forsaken burgers after you did the deed. I’m calling dibs on you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Besides, you owe me. I didn’t snitch and told that Hex Tech got annihilated and we’re in need of new personnel because someone needed to hide from the big bad villains.” Those blue gems were screaming not to mess this offer up, because it was certainly not going to come back.

Even with a pressure like that, in some way inside of him, Douxie felt freed of a little weight. Despite the distance and everything that had happened, some things stayed the same. So he quite happily held up his fist, smirking at the girl.

“Alright, as soon as this is over with. Deal.” Zoe glared at him a few more seconds. Then she nodded, and finally bumped their knuckles together.

With a thud Krel finally put the box down, sighing soundly.

“Thanks Seklos this is done. I believe we are only missing the dead tree that will be then covered in artificial garnishments as a form of apparent belittlement of nature.” He stayed still for a few seconds, mindlessly throwing a little sphere on the ground that divided in four pieces, generating a portal. “… I feel like I’m getting so accustomed with humans’ savageness that I’m even quite looking forwards to it. Especially for that useless invention called ‘tree’.” He snickered, getting inside the wormhole that disappeared as soon as he was in.

Luckily the impossible dimensional gateway appeared of not leaving any trace behind. And luckily the creature – or elf, demigod, Nari was still a bit of a mystery – most connected to the nature that had just been denigrated was way more interested in whatever chef wiz Jim Lake Jr. was preparing.

“You knubhead, I just told you not to!” Archie’s spiteful voice came along, as apparently Steve had managed to take advantage of the situation – a scientific miracle happening in front of them, fair enough – to finally get himself a mince piece. Only to get slapped to the ground. “That’s it, until these cool down you’re getting nowhere near! Douxie, out with me, we need to guard the treasure!” That was some attachment for one tray of soft and delicious little pastries.

Douxie shrugged and complied, picking up the meal under the jock’s renovated pout and heading to the balcony. The chilling air got to his nose right away, but he endured, appreciating just the tiniest breath. There was barely space for once person there.

Well, one person and his familiar. He placed the tray on the railing, making sure it didn’t fall.

“How did Jim even get the recipe?” Archie grinned.

“Well, apparently his troll friends did remember a certain meal very appreciated by humans from back then, but they have their own idea on how to make it. I don’t know the details, but I certainly know it involves socks. Plenty of socks.”

“… you want to see Steve’s reaction to them later.”

“I want to see Steve’s reaction to them later with all the others. Christmas is supposed to be a family festivity, right?” His grin disappeared right after. “So… it didn’t sound like you were sleeping too well last night.” Yep. He knew. Of course he knew. He would had even if he didn’t have to habit of sneaking into his bed to get warm. “Something you’d like to talk about?”

Douxie breathed out, gently buffing his fluffy ear.

“I’m fine Arch, not need to get all sensible on me. It was one of the usuals.” He tried a weak smile, not really feeling like keeping everything in. Not with so many people inside, on this particular day. “… you know, thinking it now, somehow it was easier celebrating Christmas on the streets back in Camelot. Getting something good to eat, have fun, that was enough. Considering how tense was everyone in the Pendragon castle it’s not much of a surprise, but still… I wonder if Merlin ever had a proper Christmas in there.” He sighed. “He certainly didn’t while I was around.” The noisy streets of Camelot overlapped NYC’s busy ones. He swallowed a lump into his throat.

That legendary town was such a faraway place right now, coming back from a single memory was a slap from reality. Douxie shivered, taking in a freezing breath, gasping when Archie jumped over his shoulder and curled all around his neck. His fur was nice and warm.

“We have no way of knowing. But one thing’s for sure, that old man got a surprising, unexpected present in any case.” Archie smiled, eyeing him softly. “One very sneaky, very foolish, very brave apprentice.” They had been there, the both of them. And in any possible way, in the good, the bad, and the best, he had found a life to call that way. The one Merlin had asked him about.

The master wizard smiled, snuggling his cheek against his loyal friend.

It didn’t take long, the winter air acted like a freezer over the little pies. But as they went back in, the place had already changed – and that was besides AAARRRGGHH!!, with one gigantic hat on his head, holding up the tree while Blinky, wearing a scarf, was reading a manual on how to decorate it, where did he even get that? –: there was a table, appeared again out of nowhere, with all the most delicious looking dishes placed all over between branches of holly and little bells. Jim and Nari were putting down the last dishes, Steve was clumsily getting the statue of a reindeer to balance over the tv, Toby was checking the lights to make sure they were functioning.

And Claire was suddenly in front of him, beaming, clearly hiding something from behind her back. It immediately grabbed everybody’s attention, like it was some sort of event.

Was it?

“We’ve organized the present exchange for after lunch, but this one you need to put it on now. So, her it is!” She uncovered the secret and- Oh. It was a sweater. It was a sweater. For him. “There you go, you’re officially part of the wool club, a Christmas-limited association only.”

“Founder of the association Nancy Domzalski, mostly because it was Nana who made them all!” Toby caressed the front of his sweater, smiling softly. “She’s that kind of grandma that thinks that everything that’s made with love can bring warmth, and I’m kind of a believer too.” He shrugged, crossing his fingers behind the back of his head. “I know this isn’t your cool punk rock wizardy style, but Nana had her midlife crisis in her own time and I’m not exactly looking forward to one before my very own eyes!” That was probably not a sight a grandchild wanted of their grandma, that was understandable.

It was. It was, right? It was getting a little hard to focus on something, anything that wasn’t a soft bundle of black and navy blue stripes, welcoming and warm, with ‘Fuzzbuckets’ written on it. It was getting weird. A little unsettling even, because he just got out in the cold but his bones weren’t freezing anymore and he felt all fuzzy inside and now his eyes were warm and-

“… oh, curse me, not the waterfalls…!” Centuries spent transitioning from hopeless bard to punk rock guitarist, only to tear up at a random surprise Christmas party.

From there, he didn’t understand much. Only Claire’s probable ‘Aww Douxie!’, Toby’s sudden ‘There’s no Christmas without the sad moment’, Steve’s surprising ‘I know what to do, come on everybody, let’s all hug it out!’. And all of the sudden he was enveloped with so many arms, so many different people he had gotten to know and had managed to befriend and appreciate. That were part of his world, his life, and what was coming for the future.

So when he managed to open his eyes, there was so much to uncover, between a pink head, a scarred eyebrow, a lock of leaves and a paw still so close to his cheek. And it hit him that perhaps there was a reason why Camelot had always felt so far away lately.

That age was over. But this, it felt like it had only begun. Douxie smiled, closing his eyes again.

Embracing how good it felt to belong again.

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quakerjoe · 5 years ago

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"Why are people so hostile towards President Donald Trump?"

Chris O'Leary:

Before you pass my answer off as “Another Liberal Snowflake” consider that 1.) I'm an independent centrist who has voted Republican way more often in my life than Democrat, and 2.) If you want to call someone who spent the entire decade of his 20’s serving in the Marine Corps a snowflake, I’d be ready to answer the question what did you do with your 20’s?

Why Liberals (And not-so liberals) are against President Trump.

A.) He lies. A LOT. Politifact rates 69% of the words he speaks as “Mostly False or worse” Only 17% of the things he says get a “Mostly True” or better rating. That is an absolutely unbelievable number. How he doesn’t speak more truth by mistake is beyond me. To put it in context, Obama’s rating was 26% mostly false or worse, and I had a problem with that. Many of Trump’s former business associates report that he has always been a compulsive liar, but now he’s the President of the United States, and that’s a problem. And this is a man who expects you to believe him when he points at other people and says “They’re lying”

B.) He’s an authoritarian populist, not a conservative. He advances regressive social policy while proposing to expand federal spending and federalist authority over states, both of which conservatives are supposed to hate.

C.) He pretends at Christianity to court the Religious Right but fails to live anything resembling a Christ-Like Life.

D.) His nationalist “America First” message effectively alienates us and removes us from our place as leaders in the international community.

E.) His ideas on “Keeping us safe” are all thinly veiled ideas to remove our freedoms, he is, after all, an authoritarian first. They also are simply bad ideas.

F.) He couldn’t pass a 3rd-grade civics exam. He doesn't’ know what he’s doing. He doesn't understand how international relations work, he doesn’t understand how federal state or local governments work, and every time someone tries to “Run it like a business” it’s a spectacular failure. See Colorado Springs’ recent history as an example. The Short, Unhappy Life of a Libertarian Paradise And that was a businessman with a MUCH better business track record than Trump. We are talking about a man who lost money owning a freaking gambling casino.

G.) He behaves unethicaly and always has. As a businessman, he constantly left in his wake unpaid contractors and invoices, litigation, broken promises, whatever he could get away with.

H.) He is damaging our relationships with our best international friends while kissing up to nations that do not have our best interests in mind. To his question “Wouldn't’ it be great to have better relations with Russia?” The answer is Yes. But it is RUSSIA who needs to earn that, who must stop doing the things that are damaging to that relationship, or we are simply weaker for it.

I.) He has never seen a shortcut he didn't like, and you can’t take shortcuts in government. “Nuclear Option, Remove the Filibuster, I’ll change the Constitution by Executive Order…Don…what happens when you remove the filibuster and the other side retakes the majority in the Senate? Suddenly want that filibuster back? What happens if you manage to change the Constitution by Executive Order and an Anti-2A President wins the next election?

J.) He behaves and has always behaved as an unabashed racist. Yes, I’ve seen your favorite meme that claims he was never accused of racism before the Democrats…Absolutely false. Donald Trump’s long history of racism, from the 1970s to 2019 See the Central Park 5, the lawsuits and fines resulting from his refusal to lease to black tenants, the 1992 lost appeal trying to overturn penalties for removing black dealers from tables, his remarks to the house native American affairs subcommittee in 1993. The man sees and treats racial groups of people as monoliths.

K.) He is systematically steamrolling regulations specifically designed to keep a disaster like the 2007 subprime mortgage crisis from happening again.

L.) He speaks and acts like a demagogue. He sees the Legislative and Judicial branches of government as inconveniences, blows up at criticism no matter how deserved and actively tries to countermand constitutional processes, not to mention attempts to blackmail and coerce people who are saying negative things about him

M.) His choices for top positions, with the exception of Gen. Mattis, who is a gem, have been horrendous. A secretary of Education without a resume that would get her hired as a small town grammar school principal, A secretary of Energy who didn't know the Department of Energy was responsible for nuclear reserves, an EPA head whose biggest accomplishments to date had been suing the EPA on multiple occasions, an FCC head who while working for Verizon actively lobbied to kill net neutrality, and an Attorney General who thinks pot is “nearly as bad as heroin” and asked Congress for permission to go after legal pot businesses in states where it is legal. (There goes that great Republican States rights rally cry again, right? *Crickets*) An Interim AG after Firing his First AG who’s appointment is probably unconstitutional.

N.) He denies scientific fact. Ever notice that the only people you hear denying climate change are politicians and lobbyists? 99% of actual scientists studying the issue agree that it’s real, man-made and caused by greenhouse gasses. Ever notice that every big disaster movie starts with a bunch of politicians in a room ignoring a scientist's warning?

0.) He does not have the temperament to lead this nation. He is Thin Skinned, childish, and a bully, never mind misogynistic, boorish, rude, and incapable of civil discourse.

P.) He still does not understand that the words he speaks, or tweets, are the official position of 1/3 of the US government, and so does not govern his words. He still thinks when he speaks it’s good ol’ Donald Trump. It’s not. It’s the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. You have probably spread a meme or two around talking about how no president’s every word has ever been dissected before…YES, THEY ALWAYS HAVE. It’s just that every other president in our lifetime has understood the importance of his words and took great care to govern his speech. Trump blurts out whatever comes to his mind then complains when people talk about what a dumb thing that was to say.

Q.) He’s unqualified. If you owned a small business and were looking for someone to manage it, and an unnamed resume came across your desk and you saw 6 bankruptcies, showing a man who had failed to make money running CASINOS, would you hire him? He is a very poor businessman. This is a man it has been estimated would have been worth $10 BILLION more if he’d just taken what his father had given him, invested it in Index Funds and left it alone.

R.) He is President. But he refuses to take a leadership position and understand that he is everyone’s President. Conservatives complain about liberals chanting “Not my President” while Trump himself behaves as if no one but his supporters matter.

S.) He’s a blatant hypocrite. He spent 8 years bitching Obama out for his family trips, or golfing, or any time he took for himself, and what does he do? He was already on his 20th golf outing in APRIL of his 1st year in office. He constantly rants about respect for the military, yet can’t be bothered to attend the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day because of a little rain. (And that excuse about Marine One not being able to fly in the rain is HILARIOUS.)

T.) He’s a misogynist. It's not really ok in this day and age to be a misogynist, but it’s not a huge deal if you’re a private citizen. It’s a pretty big deal if you hate half the people you’re elected to lead. The disdain for women seeps out of his …whatever…. and he just can’t hide it.

U.) Face it. In any other election “Grab Em’ By the Pussy” would have been the end of that candidate’s chances. Back in the 90’s I used to marvel about how Teflon Bill Clinton was. I no longer do. The fact that he managed to slip by on that is as much a statement about how much people hate Hillary Clinton as it is about what is wrong with politics in this country right now.

V.) He has one response to a differing opinion. Attack. A good leader listens to criticism, to different points of view, is capable of self-reflection, tries to guide people to his point of view, and when necessary stands his ground and defends his convictions. Any of that sound like Trump? His default is not to Lead, its’ to attack. Scorched Earth. The Jim Acosta reaction is a good example. There was no defense of his convictions when Acosta was asking him repeated questions about his rhetoric on the caravan. His response was to attack Acosta.

W.) He takes credit for everything positive while deflecting blame for everything negative. Look at him with the Stock Market. He’s been bragging about it since day one, and to give credit where credit is due, speculation on coming deregulation early in his presidency did fuel some rapid growth, but to pretend that it’s all him, that we’re not in the 9th year of the longest bull market in history and THEN, when the standard market volatility that deregulation inevitably brings about starts to show up? Yeah. Look at yesterday. Hey! Stock Markets losing because the Democrats won! Do I need to bring out the Stock market chart for the last 10 Years again?

X.) He emboldens the worst among us. Counter-protesters are slammed into by a car while countering actual Nazi rally, and the response is there’s fault on “Both Sides” The media is at fault for a nut job sending them and Donald’s favorite targets pipe bombs. The truth is not all Republicans, not all Trump Supporters are racist, fascist lunatics. Many are just taken in by the bombastic personality and are living in an information bubble made worse by the fact that they unfollow anyone and ignore any source of information that makes them feel uncomfortable. People on the left do that too. The Biggest problem the right has right now is that the worst of the Right is the loudest and the most in your face, and the actual right, especially the Freaking PRESIDENT needs to be standing up and saying No. Those are not our values.

Y.) He seems to think the Constitution of The United States, the document that IS who we are, the document he took an oath to support and defend is some sort of inconvenience. He demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of Constitution, from believing he can alter the 14th through executive order, to thinking The free exercise clause in the first amendment somehow supersedes the establishment clause (not that he really understands either) or that the free exercise clause only applies to Christians. Or his attacks on freedom of expression and the press. He repeatedly makes it clear that if he’s read them, he does not understand Articles 1–3, and that’s something he really should have before he took the job, because they’re not going away.

Z.) I’ll use Z for something I do blame him for, but the rest of us have to carry the blame too. Polarization. This country is more politically polarized than I can remember in my lifetime. Some of you who are a few years older than I may remember how it was in the late 60’s when construction workers in New York were being applauded for beating up hippies, I think it’s pretty close to that right now, but that was before my time. And he is the cause of much of the current level polarization, but also the result. It didn't’ start with Trump. We’ve been going down this road I think since the eruption of the Tea Party in the early years of the Obama Administration. I do hope the tide turns before it gets much worse because the thing that scares me more than anything is what if that keeps going the way it has been? "

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loreleywrites · 4 years ago

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The Gateshead Engine

If you bought the itch.io game bundle for racial justice and inequality a month ago, one of the games it contains is a single-player ttrpg called The Gateshead Engine by Adam Roy (Follow the link to buy and play yourself!)

The basis of the game is simple: It is Victorian England, and you have been commissioned to built a steampunk mech. You flip cards from a tarot deck to give you situations for your diary entries, and you can finish...basically whenever you want.

I enjoyed it greatly, and wanted to publicly share my game. Content warning for a bit of body horror and minor surgical stuff at the end? It’s not like, explicit though. Anyway, I haven’t stretched my horror muscles in a while, and I love how this game started vs where it ended. Hope y’all enjoy!

Starting Questions:

—Who are you, and why did you agree to build the Engine?

I am Loreley Weisel, German thermodynamicist on the brink of bankruptcy. Europe is corrupt, and my will careens towards destruction.

—Who is your patron, and what, if anything, do you know about them? Why did they tell you they wanted the Engine?

My patron is an English aristocrat, Thomas Boroughshire III. All I know is that he has deep pockets and a fascination for thermophysics. He wants my Engine as a mechanical marvel, a party trick for a boy with too many years behind him.

—What is your community like? What do they value and what do they fear?

The community is wealthy. Large estates line a well-kept road. Dogs are bred. Horses are shoed. Foxes are hunted. Gardens beg for release from their clipped restraints. The air itself is made of brick. They value stability, power (or the projection of it), and greed.

—What will the Engine do when it’s completed, and what will it change? (This may shift during play; for now, decide what you think the answer is when you agree to build the Engine.)

My Engine is a herald of death. The aristocracy will be beaten into submission, and England will follow France in the march towards the guillotine.

My Engine:

Diary:

Monday, April 26, 1880—

I do not belong here, in this kingdom, in this estate, in this…garage. Hope’s Paradise is far from the largest house in this community, and His Highness can barely provide enough space for me to work. He does not respect me, nor does his staff. Dinners will be cold on nights I work late. There will be no hot water when I go to draw a bath. They do not want me here.

Fitting enough; I do not wish to dwell here any longer than I have to.

The neighbors are no better. Squire Duncannon of Blah Blah Blah invites me to speak German whenever he harasses me with what he calls conversation, but refuses to use the tongue himself. His wife has never uttered a word beyond her scowl. When I pass by Covington Place, the children stop and watch, twittering among themselves. I wonder what the Duke and Duchess have told them about me. I would not know, for I have never been allowed inside their gates.

England will burn, and this wretched grove of greed will be the tinder.

Wednesday, April 28, 1880—

That godforsaken child has entered my workshop again. Grease smeared all across the floor. Handprints of coal dust cover every box and bench. Every fire hazard should come at the cost of a finger. The little brat will have nubs by week’s end.

Friday, April 30, 1880—

Saturday, May 1

A song. Melancholic, but strong. Thunderous, but ephemeral.

How many hours have slipped by tonight? Dream grips my mind like a starving urchin with hardtack. Maybe these gears and pipes are singing me a lullaby.

Oh for heaven’s sake it’s half two. To sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 4, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. Every thief with deep pockets thinks themselves a scientist just because they bought opium from one once. I know how to build my Engine. Fuck off with this talk about gas compression. My math is sound, and changing one element means redesigning the entire boiler system.

His Highness has been placated with some minor aesthetic downgrades that better cater to his asinine tastes. For now.

Wednesday, May 5, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. If it weren’t for the coal dust handprints, I’d think he was the child ransacking my workshop with relentless fervor. Instead, he has simply decided to rearrange my supplies to the garage entrance. My ankle will heal in a few days, but I cannot work on my Engine until it mends. Time is money, and he has more money than I have time.

Sunday, May 9, 1880—

The ankle works.

Monday, May 10, 1880—

His Highness invited his dearest, most important friends to dine in his atrociously cultivated garden. The Wells boy snuck off and found me in my workshop. I have never met another child like him. His curiosity is insatiable, and he knows more about thermodynamics than most learned men I’ve met.

He asked me a question I could not answer: “If this machine is meant for war, how can you fight a navy with it?”

I suppose this will be a larger problem when the revolution hatches from England and threatens the mainland. For now, I must keep focused on this single-minded task. If we make it that far, I will find an answer.

…Perhaps I am naïve and misguided.

Wednesday, May 12, 1880—

The entire community has decided to roll their porcine asses to the south of France for holiday. Such a shame I contracted a bit of a cough and elected to stay here to recover. The travel would have been much too hard on my delicate frame.

Two weeks of uninterrupted work begins tonight.

Friday, May 14, 1880—

For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Her Highness fainted at the pier moments before they were to board a ferry across the Channel. Feared she had come down with the same pestilence I had contracted. Now the entire extended Boroughshire rabble is returning posthaste.

The quiet? Gone. Their need for attention? Only I can sate it. My Engine? Still incomplete, and will be for some time.

If I drown myself in enough whiskey, the mystery of my death should keep their tiny minds occupied for at least a week.

I intend to refill my lamps and work as long as I can tonight. May their arrival home tomorrow wake me at noon for all I care.

Saturday, May 15, 1880—

I was awoken at nine in the morning. Forty minutes of unrestful rest.

Tuesday, May 17 18, 1880—

Knocked the fucking lamp looking for my pen. Lucky I didn’t burn this entire estate to ash.

…Perhaps unlucky.

He even haunts my dreams, touching my Engine and reducing it to rust at the moment that should have been my victory. What Hell of idiocy have I gotten myself into? Fucking aristocrats standing in the way of their own downfall by sheer incompetence. Back to sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 18, 1880 (again)—

I’ve read a number of fascinating papers that I received in the mail today. While I admit I know little of the burgeoning field of electrical engineering, the work being done in the States is fascinating. I intend to take a short trip into London to seek more research (And get a right stein of beer; this house and its occupants are worthless.)

Friday, May 21, 1880 (London)—

I have been granted access to ~~Royal~~ archives. Despite my distaste for locking knowledge away from the public, I am nonetheless grateful for this opportunity. All the kingdom’s brightest minds (what few there are) have recorded years of research on every possible thread of science.

Galvanic principles are fascinating to me. To think, all these thousands of years, we have had electricity inside us! Thoughts percolate, but I do not yet know to what end.

I shall return to the cursed Golden Land in the countryside tomorrow. Between my notes and a few papers, I have been allowed to abscond with, I am reinvigorated with hope for my work.

Saturday, May 22, 1880—

I should extricate and boil every last one of their tongues!

The entire community’s patriarchs were waiting in the living room of Hope’s Paradise (Clearly not my hope.) Word got out of my project, and every cock-waggling primitive decided that this was a matter that required ending their holiday early. While their offspring splash in the Mediterranean, their sagging eyes are now fixed on that fucking garage.

I don’t know who is merely curious, who else feels inadequate enough to lie about their scientific credentials, or who wants to break my Engine merely because I’m a woman. Too many men in my workshop. Had I less restraint, an axe may have been all I needed to solve this annoyance.

Hopefully the dullards bore sooner than later. I may need to beat Mr. Duncannon with a German dictionary regardless.

Tuesday, June 8, 1880—

Between the constant need to shun nosy men from my workshop and the actual work itself, I have not had the constitution to keep my diary.

But today…ah, today! The control platform appears to be totally functional! I have toiled too long to have failure spring from my fingertips. Rotational velocities are stable, cranks and gears are greased and mobile, the Gatling guns are…gatling.

For the first time since I began my work here, I feel like I have accomplished something great. The aristocracy’s days are numbered.

Monday, June 14, 1880—

Work continues to sap my focus. Boiler…not cooperating. I fear I will lose all the work I’ve done on it due to some unforeseen flaw. A redesign at this stage would be costly, but so would continuing with a faulty boiler. Either way, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clear my head.

Thursday, June 17, 1880—

Time off has proved productive. I finally finished reading the documents on loan from the ~~Royal~~ archives, and there is a fascinating bit of research by a man by the name of Frankenstein. His work on galvanic sciences from earlier this century are far beyond anything I’ve found from English archives in the last decade. This even only seems to be his initial work; perhaps I can track down his true masterpieces of intellect. Maybe I don’t even need to redesign a boiler…

One blight on my day over lunch: that coal-handed bastard child has returned. I think it’s Constance.

Wednesday, Jun 23, 1880—

The Andersons down the way lost one of their bitches last night. She was a beautiful hound, but her memory will live on in my diary. I wanted some hands-on experience with Frankenstein’s work, so I was able to procure the corpse for a small fee (to His Highness who is paying my bills).

Wondrous! Such are the things I learned. A body, made of muscle, controlled by electricity. I suspect I may need to seek out an anatomist or some other scholar of the biological sciences to continue this research.

My mind is alight with so many ideas…

Wednesday, June 30, 1880—

June ends and takes the boiler with it. My Engine shall have a grand new design. Thomas has been placated by promises of surprise. “The most groundbreaking work in thermodynamics!” I lied. His is a mind easily led astray by spectacle.

Sunday, July 4, 1880—

Constable came round today. Mr. Duncannon hasn’t been seen in three days. He left for an important business meeting in Paris, but missed his boat. Coach is missing too. It’s all very curious. I did everything I could to keep that sniveling pig out of my workshop. Given the way his nose recoiled into his skull, it seems the stench of grease and ozone was enough.

In more academic news, I received notice that more of Victor Frankenstein’s research papers are being released from an archive in Switzerland. I should have them by week’s end. My excitement radiates like the sun.

Friday, July 9, 1880—

Wolfgang. Heinrich. Fuchs.

At my forsaken door. With my forsaken research papers.

How the fuck did he find out I was working on galvanism? Who is he still connected to? Which one of my friends betrayed me (besides him)?

He was in this fucking house asking me fucking questions about my fucking work. Fuck him. He better not stick around. After what he took from me…fuck.

Tuesday, July 13, 1880—

Chaos reigns.

Wolfgang has shacked up with the Andersons. He swings by almost daily. When I’m not actually busy, I try to look it.

Constance has gotten her hands into the coal again (I haven’t disposed of it for appearance’s sake.)

The Duncannons are planning a funeral for…whatever his name was. I don’t think I ever bothered to remember anything about him other than when he would finally leave this hellish corner of England.

Thomas has been migrating in and out of Hope’s Paradise. Something about a trade deal in India. It sounds very important for a man who makes riches off the backs of foreigners.

I could use a big stein at a small biergarten.

Sunday, July 18, 1880—

Widow Duncannon speaks! Her first words spoken to me in the months I’ve resided her are accusations that I have something to do with the death of her husband and his driver. Utter nonsense. The police found the driver at the bottom of a pint in a pub last week. The way gossip echoes around these families, however, I won’t be surprised if they begin to turn on me.

My work must accelerate.

Thursday, July 22nd, 1880—

Widow Duncannon, Duchess Byron. Mrs. Boroughshire. All the Andersons. None of them will speak to me. They glare if they see me, so I try to keep to my room and my workshop as much as possible. I’m lucky Her Highness is so subservient to Thomas. This house would be unbearable if she had any willpower over it.

Tuesday, July 27, 1880—

Celebrations are in order! I have poured over work by Golgi, Frankenstein, and Schwann. Every guide I could find on electrical engineering. Trial after trial, failure after failure. And yet…

And yet.

It’s not that I have hope my Engine will work, it’s that I have knowledge that it will. My designs are so clear to me. My protypes are all working as planned. The path to revolution has been laid out before me. Now it is up to me to walk it.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.

Wednesday, July 28, 1880—

Coal hands. Inside my workshop. Inside. My. Workshop. And this time, ha! This time, I have a culprit.

I made it very clear to Constance that she will not be loitering in my laboratory anymore.

Saturday, August 7, 1880—

What have I become?

Why did I begin building my Engine? Something about a war? Who can say. Time marchers onward. My Engine will march with time. Every experiment has made it clearer to me that I have stumbled upon the greatest discovery of this era.

No one celebrates with me. Not Thomas. Not Her Highness. Not Constance, nor the boys, Timothy and Franklin. Even Wolfgang is silent (at last).

The neighbors have stopped visiting. I wave when I pass them by, but they just sneer and hurry past. Finally, I can work in peace and silence. Finally my genius can become reality. Finally all of Europe will know what Loreley Weisel is capable of.

I have become the herald of great change, a conduit of the very building blocks of existence.

Tuesday, August 10, 1880—

A toast to the Duke and Duchess! May their patronage live forever in my greatest work! Soon I hope to bring the Andersons into this project as well.

Wednesday, August 18, 1880—

The Engine lives! The support of this community has been invaluable as the final construction has occurred. Everyone has poured their hearts into my work, and it’s truly a masterpiece that could not have been built alone.

My galvanic calibrations have been finalized. My circuits have been tested. It is nearing time for me to put all of myself into my work. I will see success.

Saturday, August 21, 1880—

The loneliness is getting to me. Not even the dogs bark anymore. I talk to my Engine, but its flesh is silent.

Monday, August 23, 1880—

The constable returned. With six policemen. He had questions about His Highness and the Duke and Duchess and Widow Duncannon. I told him the truth: I could help him find them.

I cooperated.

I have a surplus.

Wednesday, August 25, 1880—

Why shouldn’t I? It worked for them. Shouldn’t it work for me? All the principles are the same. They’re muscle. I’m muscle. They’re electric. I’m electric. Why shouldn’t I be in control?

Thursday, August 26, 1880—

Wolfgang, that bastard! He said he knew everything that I had been up to. That is outrageous! He knows nothing!

I have destroyed my room in rage. Fucking Fuchs! What does he think he knows? Who has he told? I should have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my creation. He covets it. He wants it for himself. I know it. He got me kicked out of university, he got me run out of Germany. He is jealous. Jealous! He knows I’m better. He knows I’m smarter. He wants what I have, my Engine, my child. He can’t have it. He can’t. He won’t. Where did he go? Fucking Wolfgang I will fucking kill him. He knows nothing. He’s bluffing. He just wants my success. My genius. He is nothing. He will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He nothing. Nothing. nothing nothing nothing noth

Sunday, August 29, 1880—

This will be the final entry to my diary. The morning air is heavy with the musk of summer. It’s strange to me how calm I am given what I am about to do.

My Engine has come so far from its days as a sketch on a piece of parchment. Veins of red pulse behind the metal. Sinew, steel, and lightning working in harmony. Every stitch and every suture as perfect as the one before it. So many died for its creation, and so many more will die when I am finished today.

I expected my hand to shake more as I inked the incision lines across my skin. I expected my mind to be foggier as I tried to remember every nerve that would need work. Even the pain I am about to endure has not shaken my resolve.

I am uncertain what the scientific community will think of my work. Of the sacrifices I made. But I have proven a radical truth: All the money in the world does not stop one from being built from the same parts as another. And that’s all we are: Animals with organs and muscles and electricity surging through us. If machines can harness that energy, why can’t we? If new machines can be invented, why not new humans?

All I can hope for now is that my composure holds through the entire procedure. Once I am integrated into my Engine, I will command a mind and body unseen by man. Unparalleled by any of God’s creation. Magnificent in its genius. My genius.

Today I will change humanity forever.

#loreley writes horror #body horror #surgery #The Gateshead Engine

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noonymoon · 4 years ago

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JUSTICE FOR JESUS — Misconceptions & Prejudices about the Faith in the Biblical Jesus Christ.

PART ONE: Christianity is not a Religion, it is God‘s plan to redeem mankind and have a relationship with us forever

I‘ve used to think that Jesus is about Religion, Church, Pastors, Dogma. When you look around in the world it makes sense: Everyone believes something different, all faiths are entirely valid for the people who practice them. Of course you throw Christianity in the same pot as Islam and Judaism, they‘re called „the Abrahamic Religions“ (because Abraham was the father of Isaac, who was the father of Jacob, and Jacob is „Israel“, but also Abraham was the father of Ishmael who was only born because Abraham and Sara didn‘t put their faith in God to have a child like God promised, they were impatient and didn‘t have faith, because Sara was already old and could actually not get pregnant anymore, so Sara suggested that Abraham should have a child with Hagar, the handmaiden of Sara; and from Ishmael‘s lineage basically the Arabs and Islam came along, since God had promised to make a great nation out of Abraham, this blessing went worth to both sons of Abraham) - so basically YES, Jews and Christians worship the same God. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, as it is written all over the Old and New Testament. The only difference is that Christianity has been infiltrated by Satan a loooong time ago, and Judaism (for the most part) rejects Jesus as their Messiah, even though Jesus was prophesied from the FIRST LETTER of the FIRST WORD of the FIRST BOOK of the Bible/Torah FOR the Jews! When he finally arrived FOR the Jews, the Gospel (the message of Salvation) was preached to ONLY Jews for 7 years (3 and a half years of Jesus‘ ministry, 3 and a half years after His death preached by His Apostles) and only THEN (after the Jews for the most part rejected the Gospel and persecuted everyone who believed in Jesus; our best example for this is the Apostle Paul who was actually Sha‘ul; he was formerly an extremely Jewish Pharisee who relentlessly persecuted Christians but then Jesus Himself appeared in a vision to Him and asked Him „Why are you persecuting me?“ and by seeing Jesus‘ glory and majesty, He was born-again and wrote ~70% of the New Testament) God decided to spread the message of Salvation to Greeks/Gentiles as well, because He wants to save all humans, and His chosen people would not do the work that He hoped they would. God‘s priority was always Israel until they have entirely rejected the Salvation that is ONLY found in God‘s Son, the Messiah, the Anointed One: Jesus Christ. Gladly there are a lot of messianic Jews nowadays who do their best to bring Israel‘s saviour to the Jewish people, just like it was supposed to be.

Every single Religion or Faith that there is that does not teach that you can find Salvation in Jesus Christ, the literal Son of God, will not give you peace, love and the Truth, will not give you Eternal Life (and if „Heaven“ and „Eternal Life“ sounds too ethereal for you try „different non-linear dimension“ and „consciousness transferred into a spiritual body“ - because THAT‘S how it was supposed to be before our Earth fell into a linear timeline, away from God‘s presence) and that‘s just how it is. There are tons of Religions, Faiths, even pretty much ALL Christian denominations and all the Christian cults, each one of them has a different way of denying the only thing that leads to Salvation: Jesus is the LITERAL only-begotten Son of the one true God & He died for our sins & was raised to life again by God the Father. Satan literally tries in ANY way possible to deny the LITERAL Sonship of Christ whose Father is God Almighty, YHWH. [...by the way, if you believe in that Zecharia Sitchin nonsense, please visit http://sitchiniswrong.com/ - by an ACTUAL scholar of Biblical Hebrew and of Ancient Semitic Languages]. And for the people who don‘t even bother with Jesus at all, he developed a plethora of options, to believe in something else, his first and only goal is to keep people away from Jesus, and he literally does not care how he accomplishes it. Every single Faith that does not lead to Jesus and into the Kingdom of God, has its roots in Ancient Babylon and leads into the Kingdom of Darkness. There are literally only two options, and that’s the absolute Truth, no matter if “truth” today is a “subjective matter for everyone”; that’s exactly what Satan wanted to achieve, and he sure did it. People are always extremely offended when Christians claim to have the only true God, the One who brought all things into existence despite the circumstance that they don‘t even believe in the FACT that we were brought into existence by this one God through Jesus Christ (who is the „Word of God“, and as you all know „God said: Let there be light, and there was Light“ - basically God spoke things into existence BY his Word, and his word IS Jesus Christ, the Son of God).

People rather believe in an extremely ridiculous and propagated concept of a „Big Bang“ that caused things to just „happen over time“, that our Earth is millions or billions of years old, that it is sheer „luck“ that we can survive because if we were just a tiny bit closer or less close to the Sun we would either burn up or freeze, that we evolved from ape-like men who were not very intelligible, that our extreme complex languages also probably evolved from ape-like sounds (you have no idea how ridiculous all of this sounds, when you are awake, I can‘t even type it without putting it in „quotation marks“, and you literally can NOT UNSEE the Devil’s work once your eyes have been opened) when there is literally an abundance of undeniable evidence that the Creation by an intelligent and brilliant God is a LOT more plausible; or let‘s say: there is a LOT of evidence that the public narrative is simply a deception (for example, tons of GIANT human bones have been found since at least the 1800s but of course not a single person informs us about stuff like this, and of course we don‘t make an effort to research it, because we‘re all brainwashed until we realize the Truth; people who study their Bible know EXACTLY who these giants were and they also know exactly who all those other spiritual entities are which we see in Mythology from ancient cultures) - and when the public narrative is a deception, the only logical conclusion is that something different must be true. And which book contains the entire story from the very Beginning to the very End of humankind, which fulfilled a massive amount of prophecy throughout human history 100% accurate, and is by „sheer conincidence“ the most translated and printed book of ALL time? Exactly! The Bible!

„In the beginning (TIME) God created the heavens (SPACE) and the earth (MATTER)“ — Genesis 1:1

(parantheses added)

Isn‘t it AMAZING how the inspired Word of God through the Prophets conveys complex scientific concepts in only a little sentence? THAT‘S how incredible God is! He is a Mastermind and good beyond ANYTHING. Sadly Satan has accomplished that the world sees our Creator like a hateful, narrow-minded, strict and arrogant Ruler who just wants to dominate us and put His Religion on us, but that could not be further away from the Truth. God, in fact, HATES Religion, all He ever wanted is to be loved by His people, acknowledged by His people and praised by His people (and honestly, He DESERVES praise for Everything He has done for us and for Everything that He is!) .. And then of course, you can look all around in nature! I swear, being born-again is like being a child again, before this world and our „education“ brainwashes you. When I walk outside, I just MARVEL at God‘s handiwork, it‘s literally AMAZING. When I look at flowers, veggies, fruits, animals, insects of all kinds (I even lost my fear of spiders and wasps and even hornets, it‘s just amazing to look at them), when I taste different kind of nuts, herbs and spices (by the way, isn‘t it amazing how there‘s a herb or plant for every health issue a human can have, just like the Bible says? if we really evolved from a Big Bang to THIS, how do we explain the miraculous powers of all of these things? Have they just „happened“...?) look at the funny shapes of everything; everything just blows my mind, it‘s incredible. Someday I really want to ask God what He thought when He created Romanesco Broccoli because each time I see that thing, I just marvel at its weirdness and beauty. The world is just so ridiculously beautiful and NO ONE can see it except born-again Christians (I‘m really excited for eternal Life because this Creation is in a fallen state and the Bible says that the actual glory of the actual Creation is even more magnificent, WHOA...!!!) and I sometimes literally cry because it‘s SO SAD what Satan has made us believe about our planet, about ourselves, about literally everything. And why? Just because he hates Jesus, he hates God and he most certainly hates EVERYONE else, you, me, everyone. He loves only himself and he doesn‘t care if he‘s robbing us from the most astonishing experience ever: Life! He enslaves us through spiritual warfare to desires that we would naturally not have (social status, money, power, career, material objects of all sorts, fame, success, other people no matter how toxic they are for our health, drugs, likings and addictions of all kinds, literally ANYTHING can be the work of spiritual warfare) and makes us believe on top of that that we‘re just a bunch of random Apes in a random world, that our purpose is to make money and survive in a society that grows more and more into cold robots each year, only so that at the end, we die, never knew Jesus, and perish in Hell with him. It‘s literally the saddest thing EVER.

So yes, „Religious Freedom“ is a thing; everyone CAN believe whatever they want and feel drawn to, but ONLY born-again believers in Jesus Christ will live with God forever and ever in a different dimension that is not bound to time. Just like God wanted to live with us from the very beginning! We are His masterpiece of creation! Did you know that we are more cherished than angels? He sent his LITERAL SON to die for us, ALL of us, just so that we can live with God! Isn‘t that incredible??? I’m just absolutely in Love with God and Jesus and I’ve never thought that I’d EVER say this, growing up as an Atheist and then, over 2 years deceived in a spiritual bubble that is not even real.

My prayer is that the people who are written in the book of Life and belong to God’s kingdom find Jesus Christ, and experience His Love, because once you have, there is not a single day that is sad or empty, not a single day that seems pointless, you will have peace and a blessed hope for eternity to come. Amen.

TESTIMONIES

From Buddha to Christ. Powerful Testimony.

Chinese Triad Gangster Finds Jesus In Death Encounters

SATANISM, WITCHCRAFT, DRUGZ, DEPRESSION this is my testimony

"New Age" Occult Practices Nearly Ruined My Life | Warning & Testimony

Raves, drugs, vanity, new age to Jesus Christ | My Testimony

#Jesus Christ #jesus loves you #God is Good

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libermachinae · 4 years ago

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Drops in a Bucket, Splashes on the Ground

Also available on AO3! Tags: Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Gen, Whirl (Transformers), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Whirl is Primus AU, Angst, would you believe me if i said i didnt set out to write another angst fic, whirl's just like that Wordcount: 4202 Notes: I would highly recommend you read "Bullets" or at least be familiar with Whirl's abuse of Rotorstorm before reading this fic. The scene containing graphic violence begins with "Tacticians always struggle..." and the scene referencing abuse begins "He shoves his way..." Please feel free to reach out if you need any further information.

~*~

“And I guess old Primus makes five.”

“Hah! No, no, no. That’s not Primus… you’re Primus.”

~*~

Whirl has never been intimidated before. Not so intentionally, not by bots whose forged bodies have been piled on with armor and weaponry, no expenses spared by the ganglords. The Heavies rolled up on treads that left gouges in the streets, painful marks that tomorrow’s taxes will go to fixing, and their transformations took a full five seconds as excess plating moved out of the way while their protoforms tried to bend per their original configurations. They wear identical red visors and dark gray masks: faces, certainly, but only in the barest sense of the word, enough to separate them from lowlifes without affording them identity. It is impossible to tell one from the other and Whirl knows, intrinsically, that it will not matter.

~*~

Rung is the only one who doesn’t flinch. Whirl stands over Adaptus’ body, freshly relieved of what they can all agree was a spectacularly ugly head, and puts away his gun.

“Right,” he says, with a meaningful glance out the window. “Want to agree none of us heard that?”

“Whirl!” Rodimus shouts. “You can’t just kill a god!”

The body explodes into a pile of dust.

“Sure I can,” Whirl says, shaking it off his foot even as he leans down to inspect the scrapple. “Hey Ratch, can you rig me to explode next time I get shot?”

“Is it true?” Nautica asks, doing her intellect a massive disservice by stepping in front of the unhinged bot with a blaster.

“Obviously not,” Ratchet says. “He was lying.”

Whirl nods.

“Yeah. You think I would keep it a secret from any of you if I was a god? You think Cyclonus would ever hear the end of it? Nah.” He stands, kicking pile and sending a spray of metallic dust into the air. “Awesome way to go, though, can’t say I’m not jealous.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to kill him for it.”

“So, you’re not Primus?” Nautica asks. She hasn’t moved, her arms crossed in front of her. If Whirl had been her creator (and he isn’t, he already has his claws full with a nest of scraplets), he would have been pretty proud of her right now.

“Nope!” he says. “I’ve never vouched for the universe before, but that kind of joke would take on an extra level of cruel, don’t you think?”

“Got to agree with Whirl, here,” Rodimus says, a hand on Nautica’s shoulder drawing her back. “I could buy pretty much anyone else. Maybe not Rung, but, say, Velocity? She could be Primus. Or Roller. I guess not Megatron, since we saw him come online, but—”

“The point, Rodimus,” Ratchet deadpans.

“The point is, not Whirl,” Rodimus said, sweeping his hands up to gesture at him. “I get Primus is disappointed in us. We are a textbook example of why a race of sentient war machines should never be left to their own devices, combined with a case study on how to avoid learning from every mistake you’ve ever made. But I really don’t think that disappointment would translate to actively hunting us for sport. Isn’t Primus supposed to be all about forgiveness and loving your cellmate?”

“Right,” Whirl says, clacking his pincers together in his approximation of a snap. “An angry god is so cliché.”

“I don’t think anyone knows what Primus believed,” Rung says. Oh no. He’s taken off his glasses. “I don’t see any reason he couldn’t be Whirl.”

“How about we start where the part where gods don’t exist, and Whirl does?” Ratchet suggests.

“I… I am Solomus, though.”

The whole group turns to the offending voice. Whirl goes for his gun and Rodimus knocks it out of his hand, a stern finger silently telling him not to kill any more gods. As if being an ex-Matrix bearer gives him some sort of say.

Tyrest has not stopped touching his gaudy mantelpiece, poking at the holes. It wouldn’t be so disturbing, except he’s staring at Whirl while he does it.

“Primus, don’t you remember?” he asks.

“Hey, let’s watch the fragging language.”

“Adaptus wanted to send our creations to pointless war,” Tyrest goes on. “Violence for the sake of violence, conquests built on the backs of others. We fought him.” He steps forward and reaches for Whirl. “Together, we—”

Whirl jerks back with his claws extended out.

“I will cut your hand off, I swear to—I swear.”

He is saved from any more interrogation by the ground violently rumbling underneath them.

“Okay, so regardless of whatever’s Whirl’s deal is, we do still have at least one Primus to worry about,” Rodimus says, looking out the window at the approximation of what Whirl, personally, had always assumed god would look like. “Solomus, you still got your teleporting rigged up?”

~*~

No one ever considered giving The Institute a waiting room, so Whirl stands to one side of the hallway while the butchers discuss his case. He knows his proposal intrigues them: they have never had an opportunity to shadowplay a willing subject before. What is there to learn from a brain that does not fight them every step of the way? What backdoors exist that every other victim kept hidden? Whirl does not care about the potential scientific advancements his offer provides. He just wants to stop dreaming of gears, lose the phantom aches of his fingers. He wants to look in a mirror and see nothing: not himself, not a monster. Just an object, fulfilling its purpose.

The scientists who walk by him in the halls stare. Everyone stares, but the look they give him is different. They do not find him exceptional, nor do they feel for him pity or contempt. He is no marvel. He is a creation, perfectly engineered to suit its purpose, every detail minded with care to ensure it all works together as an ideal mechanism. He wishes he could see himself through their eyes.

The door beside him slides open and a bot he has never seen before steps out. His helm comes up no higher than Whirl’s waist and his large yellow optics do not look up from his datapad.

“Whirl of Polyhex, the panel has elected to reject your petition,” he says. “I am to remind—”

“What?” Whirl startles; his new head shoots upward, forcing him into an angle that is both unnatural and instinctual. “Why? Ice Pick said he could—”

“I am to remind you that you have signed a nondisclosure agreement; failure to comply will result in penalty of death.” The little bot flares his plating, the click of a motor lock setting it in place. “You will now submit to full stasis and be escorted back to your home.”

The jack comes from behind.

~*~

“This is my hab suite.”

Whirl knows the tonal difference between a bullet hitting living metal and a wall. He scowls and gives up, waving Cyclonus inside.

“My room’s a mess,” he says. “Think I’m gonna crash here for a while.”

Cyclonus comes in and sits beside Whirl on the berth. When the door slides shut, they are visible only by their biolights: Whirl closed the shutters when he came in, the stars too much like blinking numbers. Cyclonus is a surprisingly quiet machine. His presence comes with none of the usual hisses and clicks one would normally get with their kind, like each component was designed specifically to work with those around it. Compared to Whirl, whose body is a wreck of pieces that almost fit together, clinking and scraping through their standard functions, he practically doesn’t exist.

“This is slagged, huh?” Whirl asks.

Cyclonus thinks on it a moment, then there is a shift of plating as he nods. Is it an admission, a confession? Pri—frag, Whirl doesn’t want to have to start thinking about that.

“Sorry,” he says.

“You don’t need to—”

“Scrap, you’re right. What am I doing?” Whirl laughs. “I’m infallible now, right? It’s all been part of my grand plan for Cybertron. I should be saying you’re welcome; you should be thanking me.”

Cyclonus sighs, a rush of air out his vents.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks.

Whirl pokes and pinches at his own plating, trying to make sense of it.

“Yeah,” he says. “Start praying, and keep Megatron far away from me.”

~*~

He’s spent two days in the holding cell before he realizes no one else is coming for him.

That Orion Pax… he’s good, and Whirl’s not sure whether it’s the kind that gets people hired or gets people killed. Not that it matters, not that he cares. The Senate’s going to crush all of them one by one, like little cans of oil under a rolling tank. He thought being a tread would come with some measure of relief; instead, it just landed him in a hole.

He digs a claw tip into the wall, another score among a small collection. He has been trying to reconstruct the miner’s face, what it looked like in the split second between recognizing he had been struck and realizing there was more to come. He can’t relish a memory if he can’t keep it, and he’s already struggling well enough to accomplish the former. This assignment was supposed to be a release. Look down at the big thinker and imagine in his place Senator Proteus, Sentinel Prime, the faceless Functionist Council. Tell himself that this is what it would feel like to rip their plating open until their priceless energon spilled onto a dirty floor.

The face, though, it’s escaping him. How can he fell anything about a person with no face? What relief is there to be found in beating the slag out of a nobody? He is trying so hard to adapt, but it’s like his processor is working against him, reminding him how far he got before he was reeled back in. The silhouette of his sketch is familiar.

His claws hurt where he has worn the tip blunt, and the portrait is still incomplete.

~*~

“I don’t make Matrixes,” he insists. The group was polite enough to knock once they found him, but they’re failing to pick up the hint that he wants all of them to go away, right now, and leave him alone forever.

“Well, Epistemus says you can,” Rodimus says, dentae blocked together. “Why do all the other gods have their memories back, but not you?”

“I dunno, maybe Needles can stick me and figure it out.”

It’s almost cute, the way Rewind steps protectively in front of Chromedome.

“Rodimus,” Rung says, trying to get between them, “this isn’t helping.”

“Thank you,” Whirl says. “Now can we get to the part where we storm the planet, guns a-blazin’?”

“That won’t help either.” Rung turns to look at him. “Your memories haven’t been deleted, Whirl. Somehow, there should still be some part of you that remembers creating the Matrix.”

“The Functionists probably took it out,” Whirl says.

“That’s not how mnemosurgery works.”

“Says the dropout.”

“You told me once about your earliest memory,” Rung says. Whirl should be furious that he’s doing this here, in front of people who have no business knowing what’s in his head, but he’s more interested in the way Rung has taken off his glasses and is squinting up at him. “What happened just before it?”

They did not bring Ratchet, a testament to the fact that they will not leave before he gives them answers. He could start lying again, or find another way to forgo the question, but something about Cyclonus’ presence at his back helps him settle down the compulsion. Everybody lies about their forging. Everybody wants to say it was overseen by the Prime, or that they settled into their form like resin poured into a mold, instant and perfect. Whirl has a set of seven stories he deploys on rotation, ranging from heroic to beautifully tragic, and he spends a moment picking through them, trying to remember which was the real one.

“I showed up at the Functionsts’ place to get my docs in order,” he says. “I was… I was trying to get Polyhexian citizenship.” Awful city, but he had always sworn the energon tasted better there than anywhere else.

“But you said you were forged in Polyhex,” Rung says.

“Yeah. It was easier that way.” Whirl puts a claw to his head. “I… augh, nope. No, this is stupid.”

“Whirl—”

“No, I’m done,” he says, pushing Rung away. “Fully done, Rung. That’s right. You were god’s therapist, and he fired you. I’m gonna go take out a planet.”

~*~

Tacticians always struggle with where to put Whirl on a battlefield. On the one hand, he’s an attack helicopter, equipped with long-range cannons and advanced aiming modules. Keeping him in the sky is the perfect way to set up a terrible surprise for Cons on the ground. On the other, he’s Whirl, and facing him head-on can be just as chilling and or fatal.

In the end it rarely matters which call they make because, as stated before, he’s Whirl. He will do whatever he damn well feels like. Right now, that means skimming over the top of the battlefield, sights trained on the odd dot who tries to disgorge themselves from the fighting mass. He is supposed to be providing support to the ground troops, peppering the Decepticon line so they can break through, but no one is going to complain about a few more dead soldiers.

A truck breaks free and he pitches down, giving chase, machine guns firing before he’s got a lock on. The ground explodes in shrapnel as they try to serpentine out of the way, but he keeps firing and soon enough their paths cross.

He riddles them. Their roof is already a puckered, punctured mass of warped metal before their back tires blow and they go skidding and flip onto their side. Their plating shuffles, uncoordinated, as they try to transform, and Whirl goes for the underbelly, shattering the exposed protoform in a burst of pink energon. They slump with their legs disengaged. There is a buzzing, crunching noise as the dying t-cog tries to settle into either mode, then a jet of smoke erupts from the body. The engine has seized, locking it in a permanent limbo.

Whirl spins around to track down his next prey. He loves his job. The Autobots have a need, and he fills it with a gusto that only occasionally gets him in trouble. He’s no hitmech: he lacks the finesse, the style. But he can rain irreverent murder down from the sky, send Cons fleeing just long enough to make them think they had a chance, and he can do it without questioning an order. The war needs people like him.

Two soldiers are trying to escape together, one with their arm over the other’s shoulder, a sparkling stump of a leg between them. Whirl gets low, following them until the roar of his rotors is unmistakable, until they cannot help but turn and he sees their optics. Then he fires.

The wounded one falls first, knocked onto their front and grasping uselessly until their hand is blown off and they go still. The other gets their legs knocked off and goes spinning, landing on their head with a crunch. Whirl keeps advancing, keeps firing, tearing open their plating and reducing their inner working to molten slag, spattering the ground with used energon. They flop, over and over, until Whirl gets bored of the show and hauls off, leaving them almost indistinguishable from the carnage of the land itself.

Whirl hovers over the fighting and looks down while he scans for a target. This high up, visuals are useless for determining Bots from Cons. Little Cybertronians run around, whacking and shooting at each other, falling down, down, down. The metal under their pedes is slippery pink with energon. It splashes against their plating, over their insignias, until they are all just little wandering targets.

Whirl has his job, and he loves it, and he does it well.

~*~

He should feel something, but his spark is a void as he tosses the rest of the guns into the shuttle, all the stuff he held off using because he wasn’t ready to get kicked off the ship. He is not coming back from this. He knows it, so better to take it all.

He’s just fastened the locker when he hears the footsteps on the hatch and looks up. It’s Tailgate, of course. Tailgate, who has a pack hanging from one shoulder and a gun holstered at his side. It’s a shrimpy thing, something Cyclonus taught him to shoot in case they ever got separated, more useful for making noise than taking down an aggressor. It has room for one round of ammo and Whirl doubts he brought a bullet more.

He comes aboard without saying anything and stops beside world, continuing to say nothing. The hand on his pack is clenching: he’s being brave. He’s also waiting for some grand speech, some sacred insight to the nature of their quest and their places in the universe. Well, tough. He should know Whirl better than Primus.

He lifts a claw to shove Tailgate backward and down the hatch, but it stops an inch before Tailgate’s plating. What does it matter? Cyclonus can’t kill him where he’s going and Tailgate himself is just a drop in the bucket. Standing there with his chest puffed out, optic band steely and focused, he looks like any other Cybertronian, never mind a few years left behind.

Whirl retracts his claw. Tailgate nods at him.

Another drop in the bucket.

~*~

He shoves his way to the front row, slamming himself into his chosen seat just ahead of a little spy plane who had been angling for the same spot.

“Buzz off,” he says. Never mind the spy plane outranks him. This is his big day! He got here early so he could get this seat, right in front, though he can barely hold it as the audience fills in around him, so many Bots he does not know and who do not matter. The only one he cares about it up on the stage, smiling with an air of detached cooperation, off in his own head again like he always was. Whirl thought they had made progress on that, but some habits were just too hard to break.

The opening speech is long and predictably boring, lots of talk about this base he has never been on before. Whirl’s engine clicks in agitation. When bots give him dirty looks, he sneers.

“Chronic fanbelt lockup, ever heard of it?” he hisses at them, adding in a few extra ticks for good measure. They go back to minding their own business, but Whirl still catches the optics glancing at him, and his engine goes from annoyed click to angry hum. He knows what they see.

Luckily, the speaker eventually gets over himself and moves on.

“Rotorstorm, will you please step forward?”

Whirl is on his feet before the other copter has a chance to rise, his cheering rising well above the swell of the crowd. He shouts, he stomps his feet, and he bangs his claws together until the bots on either side of him wince, and he gets even louder when he knows Rotorstorm has noticed him.

“Go on, get up there!” he shouts. “You earned this, didn’t you?” The rest of the crowd has calmed down, but he stays standing, arms dropped to his sides. He stares at Rotorstorm as he crosses the stage, shoulders pressed back, each step placed so precisely in front of the last that it must be calculated. He waits until Rotorstorm has reached the edge to sit back down, and then still his optic is pointed, refusing to let Rotorstorm look anywhere else. Rotorstorm’s own optics are wide, though the rest of his expression is slack. His biolights are steady, his ventilations manual and even. He’s perfect.

“Rotorstorm,” the presenter says, “I hope you will forgive us; this is an honor that is long overdue. During the Simanzi Massacre, you singlehandedly scouted a pass through Mount Helix that allowed for the rapid evacuation of the 9th Battalion. Your commanding officers estimate that your decisive actions saved upwards of one thousand Autobot lives.” Whirl’s engine is silent. He’s drinking in every word. “Today, we present you with the Novic Medal for Outstanding Honor. ‘Til all are one.” Rotorstorm ducks his helm as the award is magnetized to the right of his cockpit, finally breaking his optic contact with Whirl.

“’Til all are one,” he repeats, though most of the crowd does not hear him over Whirl’s cheers.

Rotorstorm turns without looking up and returns to his seat. The next recipient is called forward and Whirl walks out.

~*~

He can’t do it. He’ll blame it on the way Tailgate’s plating quietly rattles or Cyclonus’ entire personality as he starts to board, but he shuts off the shuttle’s engine and disembarks with them trailing behind. He retreats to his hab suite, and though he does not invite them he’s glad when they make it inside before the door closes.

“Nobody in the mutiny is allowed to have any of my stuff. I don’t care if Thunderclash is dying again and my innermost energon is the only compatible fuel in the galactic sector, he can’t have it.”

Tailgate nods along, his fingers in a death grip around Whirl’s pincer.

“And when you guys are talking about me later, no one call me anything but Whirl. I’m serious. I don’t know about anything I did before that, so what could it matter?” He looks up at the ceiling. “In fact, don’t tell anyone about the Primus thing. No point.”

Cyclonus is a solid, immobile presence on his other side.

“Am I forgetting anything? Oh, tell Roadbuster I’ll be waiting for him in the pit.”

“Do gods go to the Afterspark?” It’s not clear who Tailgate is asking.

“I definitely don’t plan to stick around and watch over you or whatever. Think I’ve had enough of this universe.” He chuckles, a strained sound. “Yeah. So, that’s it. Better get this show on the road, huh?”

“We’ll be with you the entire time,” Tailgate promises.

“For as long as you want us,” Cyclonus amends.

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugs, laughs again. “I’m not even really scared of the whole dying thing. I’d made peace with that. Whenever there was something I needed to do, I took care of it, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it if the right bullet finally found its mark.” He glances between them. “Now, though… you two better behave, I swear. I’m making it your Primus-sworn duty to take care of and listen to each other, okay?”

Cyclonus nods, and the way he takes it so seriously makes Whirl almost glad he’s on his way out. He couldn’t handle being looked at like that all the time, and especially it’s the way they reach across his lap and entwine their hands that really does him in. He hates them dearly.

“Okay,” he says, winding up his t-cog for the big spin. “Okay, twelve Matrixes. No problem.”

~*~

Whirl times the blinking numbers to the rotations of his spark. 1,600 exactly. He’s done it.

He leans back in his chair but cannot stop staring at the little device in his hands. It is perfect. After years of researching, studying, trying, and failing, the pieces have come together to allow him to create this one perfect thing. He loves it, and a dangerous feeling of pride fills his spark, the kind that has so long been missing from his work in the Aerial Corps. If there is a Primus (and he’s still not sure, whatever the Functionists insist), this is what he built Whirl to do.

He gets up from his desk and walks across his small living space to a shelf. Nearing capacity, it has just enough room for him to push a few previous attempts aside to make room for the latest version. Surrounded by its brethren, it becomes lost almost immediately amid the sea of blinking lights, indistinguishable even from those he considers lesser. Some defects are more obvious than others: one has sat at the same time since the moment he brought it online, while another counts one klik backward for every two forward. But most are just slightly imperfect, necessary steps to get to this point, and he loves them all dearly.

He stands back. It feels like the work of a lifetime, these clocks, though he knows he took up the pursuit relatively recently. It’s just hard to remember how he filled his time before he had this project to work on, and he is again grateful he discovered it at all.

It is a gift to be able to create, he thinks, to cast a broad eye over his creations. The numbers blink at him, all out of tune, and he lets himself imagine being content doing just this for the rest of his life.

#maccadams #transformers #idw #whirl #abuse tw #death tw #my writing #oneshot #drops in a bucket #tbh im just so glad this is done #put too much time into it

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mthofferings2020 · 4 years ago

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wynnesome

See wynnesome’s existing works here and here.

Preferred contact methods: Discord: wynnesome#4442 Dreamwidth: stargraven

Preferred organizations: - Amazon Conservation Association - Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) - Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) - St. Jude Children's Research Hospital - World Central Kitchen (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: Angst wants: Dark characters/themes, unhealthy relationships, questionable power dynamics, shady morals/ethics, under-negotiated kink, dub-con, non-con, miscommunication trainwreck, physical and/or emotional torment, break-it, break-it-worse, ending leaves you bleeding out on the floor. Fluff wants: Banter, wordplay, crack, crack treated seriously, mutual pining, get-together, first-time, porn with feelings, emotionally cathartic sex/kink, aftercare, tooth-rotting-they're-so-married domesticity.

Will not create works that contain: Daddy kink, mpreg, scatplay, underage/de-aged, genderswap, Avengers: Endgame or post-Endgame.

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Auction ID: 1239

Will create works for the following relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616

Work Description: This auction is for a fic that will fall between 1k and 5k. To keep to the word length I'm comfortable committing to, the prompt or starting point needs to be concise. For me and the way I write, that usually means a prompt of no more than a few words to one sentence, defining a central theme or pivotal moment, and then the fic will take shape to bring that about. For general style of my writing, my AO3 has a range, and my Dreamwidth has a bunch of recent angst fics/ficlets. Here are links to two works I've written for Doom and Strange: - Doctor Doom crack/fluff - DoomStrange angst ficlet I haven't posted a lot of Doom or DoomStrange fic yet, but I am raring to go for this ship. I have taken part in many hours of brainstorming and RP for the pairing, and I have a brain full of headcanon and a folder full of ideas I'd like to write for these two. For a prompt that hits me in the right spot, I could also write DoomStrange/Tony Stark. I'd consider writing DoomStrange with a different third, but please ask me if you have something like that in mind. I love Battleworld DoomStrange: God-Emperor Doom and Sheriff Strange, and their canonical partnership. I do like to play with dark, problematic, and manipulative power dynamics in their relationship. If it seems soft, that's probably because somewhere behind it is a knife so sharp you won't feel it till the blood loss hits. But I can also write them in bantery, humorous, and outright ridiculous interactions. On that side, I love their "snipe and bicker but would sacrifice myself for you in a heartbeat" relationship a la Savage Avengers. When I write angst, I tend to focus on breaking it hard rather than fixing it, especially in a shorter fic. However, as long as I feel it's a prompt I can accomplish in under 5k, I'm open to the idea of hurt/comfort, of heavy angst with a positive resolution, or the kinds of lighter angst that come from mutual pining, misunderstandings that will get worked out, etc. Those situations where it hurts along the way, but everything is going to be ok. I write by letting my brain get a hook into a particular idea - or maybe more like, letting a particular idea get its hooks into my brain - to where it takes me over that threshold from "interesting concept" to "I have actual words insistently demanding to be let out now." With that in mind - if you have a very specific idea for a fic you'd like, please contact me before bidding, to make sure it's something I feel like I can hook and be hooked by. Otherwise, please be prepared to chat/brainstorm with me after the auction, so we can come up with an idea that we're both enthusiastic about. OR, I can also take a very small prompt as a starting point and just run with it. By "very small," I mean something like a word prompt or a kink or trope that might be found on a Bingo square. I'd take the prompt, and your preference for the general tone (humor, romance, angst, etc.), roll it around till I land on a compelling hook to get me started, and follow it from there. As far as my pile of "ideas I'd like to write," I'm open to discussing some of those that I think could be accomplished within a 5k fic. Time Frames: I'll be able to begin brainstorming/discussing prompts anytime after the auction week. I do have one pre-existing fic-writing commitment that I aim to finish by the end of 2020. So assuming we've worked out a prompt, I should potentially be available to start writing for this pretty early in 2021. Pinning down actual writing time is tricky, but once I've actually begun writing, a fic of this length usually takes me anywhere from a few days to a few weeks to complete. Please feel free to contact me to talk over any questions or ideas!

Ratings: Teen, Mature, Explicit

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Auction ID: 2091

Will create works for the following relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Any Universe Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - MCU Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers - MCU Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark - MCU Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616 Tony Stark/Victor von Doom - 616 Jean Grey/Logan/Scott Summers - 616 Tony Stark/Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom - 616

Work Description: This auction is for beta reading of one fic up to 10k words, or two fics totaling up to 10k words. For beta-reading, barring my DNW, I'm generally wide open for characters, ships, universes, genres, kinks, and tropes, and for gen fics. A fic doesn't have to be "my ship" or "my kink" for me to read with care and give well-considered feedback on your writing, including elements of plot, continuity, characterization, tone, and theme, as presented within the fic itself. That said, my "Wants" and my Relationships section for this auction touch upon characters, ships, and kinds of works I read, write, and engage with the most for my own personal enjoyment. So those are where I'll be able to give the most detailed feedback on more levels, such as character voice, canon storylines, and general fluency with those characters and their worlds. My first Marvel ship is Steve-Tony, and I'm happy to read for them in any universe. I've spent the most time with them in 616, MCU, and early Ults comics, with light knowledge of AvAc, Avengers Assemble, and EMH. DoomStrange is my newer ship that I'm loving a lot: Battleworld God-Emperor Doom/Sheriff Strange; Triumph and Torment; Savage Avengers. Plus other pairings for either character, or threesomes/moresomes with the pair of them involved. Another area I'm VERY much here for is any and all fics related to Jonathan Hickman's X-Men comics: HoXPoX; Dawn of X; X of Swords. I jumped on board with X-Men at HoXPox last year, and am up to date with reading all of the current X-Men titles. I have almost no knowledge of prior X-Men canon, so, as mentioned above, I'm still happily willing to beta for other X-Men works, but I won't have that same degree of connection to canon and characters. As a beta reader, I can work on several levels, ranging from simple SPaG/proofreading, to detailed suggestions for sentence structure, flow, and word choice. I can help advise in regard to (American) English-language phrasing and word usage. I also really enjoy delving into emotional dynamics and thematic development. In terms of personal areas of expertise, I'm a musician and recording engineer. So I can give a lot of "what it's like" and some light scientific "how it works" if you have a fic where someone is a musician, in a band, playing a gig or concert, recording in a studio, or a variety of other possible situations involving the music industry and/or audio and sound systems. I prefer to beta-read in Gdocs where possible, where I can leave a lot of suggestions and comments. My goal is always to help the author feel good about their work and about making it the best it can be. So I appreciate your guidance in ways to give you feedback and/or critique that will be helpful, positive, and constructive for you. If I haven't beta-read anything for you before, I'll want to talk with you before I begin, to get an idea of the kinds of feedback you're looking for. Then I'll probably work through a page or two and wait to go further until you've had the chance to take a look. From there, you can tell me if there's anything I could approach differently, address, or avoid, in order to be more helpful for you. Time Frames/Schedule: I have a couple of pre-existing fandom commitments that I'm aiming to complete before the end of 2020. I'd prefer to say "early 2021" as the soonest I'll most likely be available to fulfill this auction. I give a lot of attention during beta reading, and often work in short sections at a time, over a period of days. For a 10k-ish fic, I might take anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks to work through the entirety. Generally, once I've worked through the fic, I'm also happy to continue exchanging comments, or take a look to see how see how things are working after changes are made. For any questions, please feel free to contact me!

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature, Explicit

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#wynnesome #auction: fic #auction: beta #mth 2020

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brandongoodwin · 4 years ago

Text

Goodwin, Brandon

COM 105 Media & Society

Spring 2021

04/30/21

Blog post #5 My superhero

Mr. Moltent (aka Billy Negrin)

Early life and Family

William S. Negrin was born on March 1st 1976 on the Hawaian island of Maui in a small town called Hana. He attended Saint John's highschool until graduating in 1994. As a child he liked to surf and play soccer with his friends. He was always drawn to the outdoors and was a boy scout as a teen. He was known as the fire master in his troop able to start a fire with anything. He is an only child to his parents Susan M. Negrin and Mark H. Negrin. He lost his father to a drunk driver at the age of 2. His dad was 30 years old at the time. At the age of 17 Billy fell into Mauna Loa, an active volcano in Hawaii when he was hiking up it by himself. He says something inside him told him to go to the top of the volcano. Billy slipped and fell into the Volcano only to emerge as Mr. Moltent. It is believed that Billy has a genetic mutation which allowed him to survive and adapt his body to the extreme heat and pressure found inside the volcano and giving him his super powers. However it remains a mystery how such a thing could have occurred. When this event happened his life was changed forever. Given his new found abilities he was approached by the H.A.T.W.A and they showed him how to handle his new power and be responsible. After joining with the H.A.T.W.A he lived in the headquarters training and getting control of his powers for many years. After his training was complete he went back to live in his hometown where he currently resides. His powers gave him a great opportunity to be a firefighter and that's what he does when he is not fighting villains. William now has a family of his own and is married to Tiffany A. Sanchez. He is a father to two children Abigail born in 2010 and Thomas born in 2012. They live in Hawaii on the island of Maui about 15 minutes from his hometown Hana in East Maui.

Super Powers and Superhero organization

Mr. Moltent often compared to the marvel hero Human Torch, has a range of abilities as a superhero. He has the ability to shoot hot lava from the palms of his hands and incinerate things with his touch. He also has the ability of super strength and can lift buses, cars, boulders, and people with no problem. His defensive power is that his tough leathery skin is impenetrable by anything that isn’t water. Another cool ability of his is that he can mold anything malleable from heat into whatever he wants. Since his hands can reach temperatures of up to 2,400 degrees fahrenheit and has super strength he essentially has a forge in his hands. His abilities are only active in his Mr. Molten form which he only calls upon during his time of work or when his help is needed. The only way to get back to his normal form is by simply cooling down until he transitions back into his human form. His weakness is that he can not activate his powers in the rain or aquatic environments. If he gets wet while using his powers he will feel the pain of the water extinguishing the molten lava that is his body. As for his superhero organization he is a part of the H.A.T.W.A or Heros across the world association which includes him and six other superheroes such as Atomic Storm and Faze. This group of superheroes advocates for peace around the world and the freedom of people to explore their own fate. The headquarters is located in Warsaw Poland and is open to the public on Saturdays and Sundays. They were founded in 1946 after WWII when a german soldier (Mutant Man) had gained superpowers through radiation from a bomb blast. It shocked the world when his abilities were uncovered and the United Nations created the organization inorder to control the use of these superpowers. They created the organization because they knew more superhumans would be discovered. The effects of the war were devastating to the clean air we breathe and it was only a matter of time before more gene mutations were revealed within humans.

Appearance and specs.

Mr. Moltent stands at six foot four and weighs in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds. He has Brown hair and brown eyes in his regular human form. You would probably see walking around the town with a smile on his face and baseball cap on his head if he was not at the firehouse or at home with his family. When he calls upon his abilities and goes into his super human form he develops thick leathery skin with cracks that looke like veins that contain hot magma flowing throughout his body. His eyes become fiery glowing orange eyes and his hair is burnt away within seconds of transforming. Mr Moltent is estimated to be able to lift up to twenty-two tons but it is not proven. He can shoot lava up to one hundred and thirty-five feet at seventy-nine miles per hour and continually for up to one minute at about fifty-five miles per hour. Mr Moltent’s only abilities are those I have mentioned earlier and he does not possess increased intelligence. Although he can feel pain, his thick skin is able to protect him from injuries. That would otherwise be fatal to regular people.

SuperHero career

Mr. Moltent has saved the world with his organization many times; some of the most notable acts of Heroisms are his efforts in the stop of Devil Man who tried conquering the world with his demon summoning abilities. He was able to use his powers to bring the Devil Man right back down to the underworld where he came from, something only he had the ability to accomplish. He also saved the lives of thousands of people when he single handedly redirected an active volcanoes blast away from people and towns in his own state of Hawaii. He heroically stood at the top of Loihi and used a huge slab of rock to direct the spray toward the ocean saving the townspeople. He also works nonstop with firefighters by going in and saving people when firefighters can not because of hazards and heat. He currently has a charity called fire safety for all or F.S.F.A which is working to replace smoke detectors in places like homeless shelters, hospitals, schools, malls and other places to ensure the safety of others. Along with smoke detectors they also supply fire extinguishers and train people on how to use them properly. He also talks at schools around the globe teaching children about fire safety and what to do if there is a fire in your house.

The future of Mr. Moltent

Mr. Moltent now 45 has many years left defending the world from bad guys. Even though he is not immortal he is in much better shape than your average 45 year old dad. His friends in his organization keep him fit and in shape, ready for anything to happen. It is hard to say when Mr. Moltent will retire but I do not see it anytime soon. He still enjoys protecting our world and helping citizens of our planet everyday. He says that he plans to retire at some point but he can’t give an exact age. He also says that he will never stop being involved with his charity and his community.

The impact of Mr. Moltent, his charity, and his superhero team.

Mr. Moltent came to be in a way that can not be scientifically proven. However the world has accepted his supernatural abilities just as they have with the other superhumans. He has proven himself to the people that he is only making good use of his powers and citizens around the world entrust the H.A.T.W.A to keep them safe from any potential threats. His superhero abilities have been seen by the world and every country celebrates their efforts in protecting them with world superhero day on june 11th. The start of his charity for fire safety has helped install over 500,000 smoke detectors and fire extinguishers world wide and is becoming one of the largest non-profit organizations in the world. Working with fire departments across the globe his charity has been very impactful in educating people on fire safety and protecting them from tragedies.

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