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papers4me · 4 years ago

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Fruits Basket,Se03, Ep 9 (part 1)

“ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~

What an ep for my girl tohru! She completed her growth thanks to kyo’s rejection. really, It was so hard, cruel, understandable but above all so necessary for her to reach a logical realistic conclusion that “I can love/want things from the bottom of my heart, but at the end I can’t force or bound them to me, I won’t regret loving/wanting them, but I’ll move forward regardless, no more standing still”.

-The fear of being alone:

Aren’t we all? We’re scared to face the word after breaking bonds, changing, not getting what we want, having to start over. Such feelings run deeper into us all. Both tohru & akito were scared to face the word without the old comfortable bond that they got used to:

Tohru realized today, that she cant keep talking to a cold photo, can’t live according to her mom’s expectations, to fulfill her mom’s wishes, can’t narrate her daily life to her mom & fill her life with other ppl’s own issues to distract her self from facing her own loneliness & from looking deeper into what should she do with her life. As she fell in love with kyo, tohru started talking to him! forgetting to inform her mom abt her life’s details, thinking abt what will she do “after graduation?”. As kyo asked in se02, ep2. Graduating highschool is ur mom’s wish, What would u wanna do after?” Tohru didnt have a response of “an after”cuz her mom wasnt there to tell her! Tohru has to choose “the after” herself!!!! “The after” was being with kyo & starting life together! figuring what to do next together! She no longer alone! she found her most precious person!

Except: he cant be with her. Again tohru is scared. What to do now! she wanted a bond but is forced to leave it. Loving kyo was stage 1 to be free from her grief. Moving forward without kyo is stage 2 to learn not to repeat the painful journey again! She didnt let go of her mom & kyo easily. It was hard, scary but she must do it. You must respect their wishes & move on. As scared as she is, there will be sadness & happiness ahead.

Akito realized she cant keep an empty box, cant keep fulfilling her dad’s wishes to “be loved & special” cant bound the zodiacs to her for good. They may love her or not, it doesn't matter, if they wish to leave for whatever reason, she cant force them to stay.

Except now that the zodiacs are leaving, what does she have to live for? who will be with her? she isnt good with strangers? she never met anyone who wasnt forced to obey her & be grateful for her. Strangers cant be forced to love her! what will she do now? stretch you hand for a greeting. Tohru told her, make a friend, they might refuse you, but hey might accept u too, I’ll make it easy, Hi, I;m tohru, whats ur name?

The power of true love: ( reality vs fiction)

In fairy tales, the princess fix the prince. the prince save the princess. The prince kiss the princess, she wakes up & they be happy ever after. Except real life has no prince & princess, You cant always be saved, you cant always save others, pure intense true love cant always be the answer!

Yuki was first when tohru needed physical saving. he saved her twice! Yuki’s nickname in school ”the prince”. Yuki is always cool, thoughtful & kind. Yuki always knew what to say & do! he deserves tohru’s romantic love more than kyo, right? But “ppl & feelings can’t be bound down”~ . Yuki didn't feel this way towards tohru, granted no one (excepts kakeru) knows the reason why he loves her fondly (she’s his mom figure). The official” prince isnt the one for her. Real life isn’t a fairy tale. Yuki has someone who sees he isn’t cool, perfect or a prince “ granted no one knows abt machi, yet! ) XD

In tohru monologue: she didnt think abt saving, that's not why she loves kyo. She stated normal, silly, mundane things! a shy smile, awkward kindness & the likes. Stuff ppl love abt each other in real life. You dont say, I love my husband cuz he saved me from a burning building in the 7th floor! lol. But fiction is so full of this. Princes saving princesses.

Tohru didnt fix kyo, too! as much as her love helped him greatly to find hope, the best writing choice is that tohru’s love also brought despair to kyo! To him, she’s the symbol of hope, peace & comfort! she’s also, the symbol of despair, torment & unease! EPIC! The kyo who’s stuck in the past cant be with her, the kyo who will move beyond trauma, abuse & broken soul will be with her. The duality is all on kyo’s shoulder: what will he choose? Can he choose in his state now?

In fairy tales the princess wakes up after the kiss. In real life, we don't. Tohru didn’t. Regardless if she fainted during or after the kiss. The kiss fixed nothing. Kyo’s despair in seeing near-dead tohru in a not-so-subtle mimic to his nightmare, has manifested itself into the sweetest kiss upon seeing her conscious & talking. Kyo isnt good with words, his actions are his words. When he’s scared, sad, in trauma: running away. when he’s fond of her, grateful for her existence: head knock, head pats, hand holding & a kiss. Still the kiss fixed nothing. Kyo is still traumatized more than ever now. Tohru still feels rejected “even if I’m not with you, plz live”.

Talking fixes everything. It didn’t here, kyo & tohru talked & showed their most vulnerable side to the other, but still didn’t meet half ways, regardless of all the love. That’s cuz they keep missing each other’s best timing. Kyo is stuck in the past while tohru has moved forward. even if in her mind she’s the one who stood & he moved. this shows they aren’t on the same wave yet. Before meeting each other again, kyo must learn from his mistake like tohru did. He must face his ultimate demon: his dad. The one who created the current broken kyo.

Rebelling against parents: ( sign of growth & freedom of choice):

Rebelling against parents is a sign of a desire to choose one’s path, decide one’s own future. Away to express an oppressed desire.

Yuki rebelled against his mom in se02. he told her I’m not going to the college you chose. I’ll chose my path. I’m not staying away from Ayame. My bro is good in my book. I chose who I want to be with. He told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Tohru rebelled against her mom today. told her I’m not wasting myself doing only what you I think you’ll approve off. You might bot forhet kyo, thats ur choice, But I DO. I love him even if you might not approve of him, Even if he rejected me, my feelings wont change, but I’ll move forward from the grief & pain. mother. She told her what he needed, turned his back & moved forward.

Kyo WILL rebelled against his disgusting dad. He MUST. It is his turn now. He’ll tell him I’m not wasting myself being locked in a cage. I have a future! I’m not a monster. I am LOVED! I might not 100% sure why I’m loved, but the truth cant be hidden. I have ppl who love me! cheer for me! I want to live! enough of death! mom & kyoko died, tohru nearly did, but I’m not gonna die! I’m not killing ME! I’‘ll do what MOM didnt do! I’ll do what YOU couldn't do! I’ll live! He’ll tell him what he needed, turned his back & moved forward. I cant wait! I’m in tears just thinking abt it! Kyo was punished enough! time for happiness!

Side Notes:

While I’m impressed with tohru’s growth, as they did her justice in this ep, this doesn’t erase that the buildup for tohru’s own journey & trauma was mediocre. There is a reason ppl commented ” omg tohru, you can love your mom AND kyo!. ” Grief is illogical, long process & it sucks that we weren’t allowed to experience tohru’s grief & her mom’s role in tohru’s abandonment issues. Huge lost opportunity that a good conclusion ep cant erase! but like tohru, I’m moving on ~

The path of growth for kyo will start by rejecting the demon: his dad. No. other. option. Hold abusers accountable for their crimes. Stop their madness. Tell them off.

We know kyo is baka! that’s his trade mark, the endearing baka! a lot of characters in the show think so! I love it, but I’m craving baka-yuki! XD! really, yuki is cool, level-headed & smart, but let him be baka too! this only shows up in tiny microscopic doses, but they’re my fave doses of yuki! it humanizes the “perfect prince”, the “gifted high status rat”! Thus him not seeing kyo running the other side, is my fave look on him! XD.

I appreciate that kyo & yuki put their differences aside when they’re with tohru. You cant tell yuki is hella pissed off with kyo, but he restrained himself. His gaze while full of anger is also full of sympathy as he heard/saw kyo’s panic upon the thought of loosing tohru. He understand they both only mean the best for each other, but also tried they both keep missing each other & not meeting half way! Also, yuki being the only one in the hospital is realistic & endearing. No need for them all to be there & yuki lives with her & is so close to her.

kyo not being the hospital is fantastic! thank you writer-San! why would kyo go to the hospital after thinking his nightmare came true? kyoko /his mom warned him, you’ll hurt another person.. he did.. he didn't cause her fall... but caused her sadness & hurt.

Momiji’s reprimanding gaze is my fave look on him! Also, the best response to what akito did. Akito isnt used to such judgemental gaze. Kureno grabbed her cheeks, gently told her you shouldn't do that, the old maid told her you are right, Dr. Hatori erased her mistakes from ppl heads & bodies, shigure being either cold or kissing her ass, coxing her to yet torment another zodiac in his grand scheme to break the curse as happened in the beach arc.

You bet hana & arisa will be there next ep! Arisa will meet kureno & akito for sure. To path the way for their romance as seen in the ED.

Shigure’s “remorse” is a whole can of worms. Playing with ppl’s hearts & feelings to gain someone’s affection is no laughing matter. Each time blood is shed, he contributed somehow. he didnt force anyone to hurt the other, but he played with matches & never got hurt.

Shigure must be glad akito stabbed kureno. Not cuz he’s sadistic or bad person. He isn’t, but cuz akito stabbing kureno is akito cutting her bond with him. Go shigure, your girl removed her lover with blood. Kureno is punished for sleeping with ur girl by blood! so, when is ur punishment for sleeping with ur lover’s mom? none? ok.

The animation is good. They didnt villinize akito by drawing extra manic features like se02. Kyo’s broken & tormented face once again epicly drawn. However, akito’s slaps on tohru’s face were comedic, unnecessary & such bad taste! Stop using violence for extra drama, furuba!

Also, tohru, I love you, I understand you are broken but charging at a person, who has a history of violence & physical abuse & holding a knife, is stupid. No other description. I’m glad she didnt accidentally kill you in her initial rage.

Everything akito’s redemption, kureno & shigure are part 2 in my review.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #sick paper #final season #part 1

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winetae · 5 years ago

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:: modern loneliness

⇨ prompt : android!hoseok x reader. 2205 words. drabble with a possible follow-up. it’s been 38 days since you’ve last seen and interacted with a living, breathing person and you’re slowly going insane.

[Week 1 of lock down.]

At first, you’re optimistic.

Working from home comes with its own set of non-negligeable perks. Notably, no more commute time! No more squeezing in between sweaty men on the subway during rush hour just to get home. The new arrangement means that you’re no longer obliged to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to blow-dry your hair or meticulously put on makeup while stuffing a bagel into your mouth because you’re short on time.

On Day 1 of quarantine, you roll out of bed and don’t even bother to change out of your pajamas. It’s quite the sight. Not that you care whether or not your hair looks like a bird’s nest or if there’s a small hole in your shirt. You’d gladly take your flannel pants and old university sweatshirt with the coffee stain by the collar over the rigid pencil skirt and stupid obligatory heels they force you to wear to the office. Ironing? You don’t know her.

That’s not to say there aren't any inconveniences but as of now, the pros outweigh the cons. For one, you’re now allowed to add as much sugar into your coffee without susciting your coworkers’ judgement. You can blast angry rap songs while finishing your reports and no one will stop you. The list goes on.

With all this newfound time on your hands, you have no more valid reasons to procrastinate. You start off by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets you’d been meaning to re-organize for months. Then you rearrange your wardrobe, dust off the top shelves of your bookcase that you usually skip over because no one can see them, and water the potted plants you’d been neglecting.

It feels great to be so productive. Your friends tell you via FaceConnect that your productivity streak won’t last long, but you’re quick to shake off their doubts.

“I’m a new me!” You insist when Mia’s laughter echoes around your empty apartment. “My life is back on track. I feel like a proper adult now that I’m not struggling so much to get everything done.”

“Sure,” she humors you. “Just don’t get upset when I tell you I told you so.”

[Day 8 of lockdown.]

Now that your apartment is cleaner than it’s ever been, you need to find other means of entertainment. According to the internet, now is the ideal time to learn a new language or acquire a new hobby, like crocheting or playing the guitar. But while it might be technically possible to learn a language, you’re definitely not an overachiever. You’re aware of your own limits.

Today you try your hand at baking. To some it might not seem like a big deal. But for someone like you who solely uses the kitchen to boil ramyeon packets and chop the occasional vegetable, today’s venture into the world of cooking is the equivalent of a quantum leap.

The molten lava cakes that come out of the oven 15 minutes later don’t look like the picture advertised in the online recipe. They don’t taste like how you’d expected, either.

You try not to be too disappointed with your failed attempt. After all, it’s only your first try. Dry cakes aren’t that bad in comparison to the horrors that could have occurred. At least nothing is burnt and your oven is still intact. You’ll try again tomorrow with hopefully a little more success.

[Day 16 of lockdown.]

It turns out that baking is not for you. After numerous trials and errors you learn a few days later that you have no vacation to be a baker. You end up abandoning all attempts to acquire a new hobby and instead look for new ways to pass the time.

Thankfully, your home server is offering free VOD for a limited amount of time, so you’re not short on distractions. You consume around half a dozen cult movies, the kind people always reference and quote without actually watching, before you finally begin crossing TV series off your to-watch list.

You yawn. It’s 9 PM on a Saturday night and you’ve just finished binging the entire season of Tiger King. It’s the third show you’ve watched from start to finish since quarantine began and now you’re wondering whether you should start a fourth.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you say before a grimace crosses your face. “Oh great... Now I’m talking to myself.”

That can’t be a good sign, you think to yourself. How long has it been since you’ve last talked to someone? You used to call your parents every day but when there’s nothing new to report, the conversations become repetitive and dull.

You should call Mia. Just to see how she’s doing.

[Day 24 of lockdown.]

YOUR WEEKLY BASKET FROM FOODCONNECT HAS ARRIVED. ALL PURCHASES WILL BE ADDED TO YOUR MONTHLY EXPENSES CARD. REMINDER THAT DUE TO THE EXCEPTIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES, CONNECT CARDS ARE ALLOWED A 5000 EXCESS OVER FIXED LIMIT. TOTAL EXCESS HAS NOT YET BEEN REACHED.

[Day 38 of lockdown.]

You’re browsing BH, hoping to restock your vitamins. Lately you’ve been feeling tired and mentally drained, despite your workload not being what it used to be. Why you’re so exhausted is a mystery you’ve yet to solve. In all logic, your energy level should be at an all time high now that you’re working less and spending all your free time lounging on the couch surfing the internet.

According to the national health guideline, you’re supposed to be exercising an hour a day minimum in order for your body to remain in good condition. Your BODYCONNECT watch monitor beeps every hour to remind you that you haven’t completed the suggested activity.

Ugh.

You press the button on the side of the watch to turn the reminder off. It’s the fifth time you’ve had to silence it today but you can’t bring yourself to work up a sweat right this minute. You keep telling yourself that you’ll exercise later but like all things lately, later ends up being never.

Come to think of it, this isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself slacking off. Where did all your motivation during week 1 of lockdown go? You don’t even have the strength to do ten jumping jacks anymore; it’s like your bones belong to a person three times your age - feeble and brittle and threatening to break at a moment’s notice.

LOW ON SEROTONIN? WE’VE GOT YOU COVERED. Flash promo over in 00:32:43! Limited offer while supplies last.

A bright yellow advertisement flashes on the top right corner of your screen. Intrigued, you follow the link without expecting much. The last thing you expect is to be brought directly to BH LAB’s homepage.

“Um… I don’t think I have the budget for this…” You mutter under your breath and prepare to exit out of the page.

Androids are usually employed by the government but the ones for sale to the general public are known to be exorbitantly expensive.

A message reads: EXCLUSIVE 1 HOUR PROMO, 40% OFF YOUR FIRST PURCHASE. Click here for more details. Offer valid for new customers only.

You pause and decide to click on the link. Looking around won’t hurt anyone, right? It’s not like you’ve decided to buy anything yet.

The seven Dwellers available for sale are just as good looking as you expected them to be. Their unnaturally good looks and vibrant green eyes are what makes them easy to pick out from the crowd.

You skim through each Dweller’s description. It seems that apart from the physical differences like their facial features and build, they each have their own specialty and characteristics. One of the best-selling models boasts the cooking ability of a 5-star chef, which you admit sounds very tempting since your skills with a knife are pathetic enough to make Gordon Ramsey cry.

Another best-selling model specializes in...sex. You blink, your cheeks warming as you read over the model’s description (the “thick, vibrating cock that guarantees an orgasm every time!” comment makes you choke on your saliva). You can understand straight away why this particular model would be so popular. All of the models are pretty, but this one’s face doesn’t look like it’s from this world. Confinement would make anyone horny, and when promised a godly sex bot equipped with a vibrating dick, well…

Too bad you’re too tired these days to even think about having “mind-blowing sex for 5 hours straight.” Having such intense intercourse would probably make you pass out on the Dweller’s artificial cock, and there’s no way in hell you would want someone from CONNECT to intervene after receiving distressed signals from your body monitor. That would just be embarrassing.

You’re about to exit out of the page, curiosity sated, when the last model catches your eye.

SEROTONIN BOOSTER. Low on energy? Feeling sad or depressed? Need a companion?

This model is perfect for you! Model JHS is equipped with emotion sensors. They will fulfill your every need even when you’re not able to vocalize them. Stressed? They specialize in massages and are proficient in: Swedish massages, Aromatherapy, Shiatsu massages, Reflexology, among others.

Personality : This model is energetic. They are very active and therefore requires a minimum 6 hours to recharge. They are extremely tactile and will easily engage in skinship such as hugs or holding hands. They are talkative and will hold passionate conversations with you about almost any subject.

Likes : cleaning, working out

Dislikes : horror movies, strong smells

When reading the description, it feels they’re talking about a person rather than an android. You’re surprised to see that the Dwellers are programmed to have a certain personality that caters to specific needs because the only androids you’ve ever come across before are the government ones, and they’ve always been stoic and devoid of any distinguishing characteristic.

It would be nice, you think, to have a companion. Someone you could talk to for real instead of through a pixelated hologram. As much as you enjoy your time alone, each passing day locked in your apartment makes you realize how much you long for a hug. You miss holding someone in your arms, feeling their heartbeat against your cheek and the rise and fall of their chest as they squeeze you back.

Model JHS looks like he could fill that vacancy. Their smile is blinding, like they’re physically radiating sunshine through their expression alone. You don’t doubt their capacity to bring positive energy into your life.

Before you can think twice about it you’re adding the model to your shopping cart. The site asks you if you want to pay more in order to customize them. For an additional fee, you’re able to tweak the Dweller’s personality or modify their physical attributes to your liking. You skip over the option. For one, you don’t have the funds to afford a vibrating dick enhancement and two, you’re more than satisfied with your Dweller as they are.

It’s not until you finish supplying all your information including your Connect Card details and shipping address that you realize what a monumental purchase you’re about to make and how empty your account will be by the end of it.

You stare at the price listed at the bottom of the screen and weigh your options. Even with the 40% reduction, it’s not a negligible sum. You could buy several models of the new Birkin bag you’d been saving up for with this money.

Why purchase designer bags when you can’t even go out and use them? a voice argues. And - uh. Fair point.

In any case, you’d have to stop shopping, eating out all the time and going on frivolous trips overseas. Not that you really have a choice, given the circumstances.

You look at the laptop screen again. Are you seriously so touch-deprived that you’re willing to fork over that much money for a live-at-home android? Really?

Fuck it.

You click on [VALIDATE PAYMENT] before rationality has time to kick in and you change your mind again. Just as the screen changes and the new page loads, you feel your heart leap to your throat but it’s too late to back out now.

PROCESSING ORDER …

...

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ORDERED (1) DWELLER - JHS MODEL. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE.

(!) Your order is eligible for Instant Shipping (delivered to your door in 24 hours or less).

(!!) Due to exception circumstances, your order might encounter delays. We are taking multiple steps to ensure the safety and hygiene of all products and shipments. For more information click here.

(!) All BH products are covered by a limited two-year warranty. Please refer to warranty details regarding your product in the Dweller E-HandBook, free for download here. Please register your product after purchase in order to qualify for future claims, returns, and support.

You expel the breath you’d been holding. Your father will throw a fit once he finds out you’ve blown all your money on a bot. The criticism is warranted.

What are you even supposed to say to defend yourself? You’ve bought a Dweller on a whim while browsing for Vitamin C supplements.

Quarantine is really making you lose your goddamn mind, huh.

#blurb.txt #idk what to think of this tbh so i guess i'm just testing the waters?? if it's not too weird i'll write the rest #i really hesitated btwn jimin and hoseok dflkdjf it was a hard decision #drabble named after that lauv song

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fallout4holmes · 6 years ago

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Journal 44

A return to business as usual was interrupted by Danse contacting me. I presumed at first he would have opinions regarding the recent attack on Jamaica Plain - Gunners, though they retreated and haven't been seen in the area since - but my friend surprised me. He wanted to remind me of my promise to Billy Peabody that he would meet other children.

Jamaica Plain would have been an ideal location, but with the recent attack, Danse suggested The Castle as an alternative. Ms. Shaw might not care for children running around her fort, but it would be a goodwill symbol and the children would be impressed. Most importantly, it's safe.

I agreed, and sent word to the Peabodys, MacCready, and every other family I've met who have a child. The invitation was extended to all the children of Diamond City as well, though I didn't expect much of a response. The Castle may be safe, but the journey through Boston is not, and so Valentine and I found ourselves escorting only our son and Nat Wright. Piper joined us, and Dogmeat of course.

MacCready and Duncan were there, and late in the day came Matt Peabody and Billy. Roger Warwick and his son Wally also made the trip north, which I was particularly glad to see since they live the closest to the Peabodys. Mr. Warwick was a bit… startled, to meet my partner. There was a clear moment of fear at seeing a second generation synth for the first time in a year, and he didn't bother to hide his confusion when Valentine spoke to him.

“Don't worry, friend, the Institute and I weren't on speaking terms even before they were blown up. I'm a prototype. I got out.”

Warwick processed this and shook Valentine's hand. “Then I'm pleased to meet you. Ah. Has Holmes told you -”

“About you?” Valentine grinned, “Secret's safe with me, don't worry. Did you meet Matt? You two are practically neighbors, or would be if there wasn't a factory full of super mutants in the way.”

That was something of an exaggeration, but Mr. Warwick and Mr. Peabody immediately set to discussing trade while I introduced MacCready to Ms. Shaw. He's made it perfectly clear that he's not a Minuteman, yet, he's only working for us. Shaw found that simultaneously annoying and amusing, but welcomed the help. Piper started interviewing the Minutemen stationed at the Castle about the success of the Minutemen and the history of the location. They humored her, though she did manage to strike up an in-depth conversation with one who once lived in Diamond City as a very young girl.

The children, for their part, hit it off instantly. Shaun showed no hesitation beyond a quick, “wow!” when introduced to Billy. Given that one of his fathers is mechanical, it's no surprise that physical appearance means little to him. Nat and Duncan followed their friend's lead, and Wally, not wanting to be left out, joined in the fun. They started with tag outside the door under the watchful eye of Dogmeat. The Minutemen on guard were there as well of course, but they had their duties to attend.

Some Minutemen thought this event was simply the General performing a public relations stunt; others thought it was good for kids to see what the Minutemen are like up close, in case they ever need them or want to join. A few Minutemen even started trying to come up with a way to safely transport more people here. Stealing a Brotherhood vertibird was floated as a possibility, but I silenced that with a glance. “Just a joke, General.”

I smiled, “How would you fly it if you did manage to steal one?”

They frowned, and went back to brainstorming.

The day went very well, a chill night wind sending the children inside. The children and their families shared space in the barracks overnight, and in the morning it was time for everyone to return home. Billy was effusive in his thanks, and told me to thank “Mr. Danse” as well. Mr. Peabody echoed the sentiment. I told them I would, and they headed south with the Warwicks.

MacCready and Duncan followed us west. When Piper found out MacCready is from the Capital Wasteland, her questions didn't stop until we parted ways. MacCready, clearly attempting to flirt, was more than happy to answer until it was time for he and Duncan to move further north.

After our safe return home, life finally returned to its usual routine - as much of a routine as a private detective in a post-apocalyptic wasteland can have. Much like before the war, there are always people who need help. Unfortunately, also as it was before the War, many of their problems are dull. Valentine would scold me for referring to them as such, but that is the best description. Now that I’ve grasped the finer points of life in this century, now that I can distinguish a scavver from a trader from a farmer by the patterns of mud on their knees, much of the mystery of the world is vanishing. It’s difficult to keep myself occupied.

And so it was that one afternoon Valentine came home from the office to find out why I hadn’t joined him there yet. He found me lying on the sofa with an arm draped across my face. He spoke to Codsworth in the hall, as if that would be far enough for me not to know what they were talking about, and strolled over to me.

“Any way I can help?” he asked.

“Murder someone and do a marvelous job hiding the evidence.”

I could hear the smile in his voice, “How about something less gruesome?”

“Burglary, blackmail, anything. As long as it’s stimulating.”

“Mhm. Here, move your legs… alright, I’ll move them for you.” My legs were suddenly pushed over the side as Valentine sat down, resulting in my body shaped like an ‘L’. “Now sit up.” I did not. He sighed, “Come on, Holmes, what’s wrong?”

“Depression triggered by the futility of a banal existence,” I answered flatly.

I heard the strike of a match as he lit a cigarette, “I sure hope existential ennui isn’t hereditary.” I scoffed at his attempt at humor before realizing he might have been in earnest. “Codsworth told me you haven’t eaten today. At all.”

“Food. What appeal could that possibly hold?”

“At the very least, it’ll help keep the folks who love you from worrying so much. You gonna be lying here like this when Shaun gets home from school?”

“Possibly.” I fully recognize I was being petulant now, but at the time I only knew I was bored.

Valentine smoked in silence for a few moments. “How do you feel about ghosts?”

The question was so outlandish I brought my arm down from my face, “What?”

He tried not to grin at his miniscule success at gaining my interest, “Rumor has it that the old Museum of Witchcraft up in Salem is haunted.”

I frowned, “Valentine, my feet remain firmly in the realm of reality, no matter my mental state. Ghosts need not apply.”

“They do when the alternative is this,” he gestured to my position. “I’m getting you out of the house, and away from any potential, uh, temptations.”

I was annoyed, “I haven’t taken anything.”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

He wasn’t accusing, there was no malice or judgement in his voice, just a simple fact and all the consequences it implied. I would have been remarkably irritated if he didn’t love me so much. “Salem is at least a two day walk,” was my rather pathetic attempt at argument.

He laughed. “Since when has that stopped you?”

The outside of the museum resembles a Gothic style church, as fitting a setting as any. The main door to the building was chained shut, so we searched for another way in. Near the cellar door on the side lay the body of a Gunner, torn apart. Quite literally.

“Goodness,” Valentine muttered as I inspected the remains. “What do you think got her?”

“This might shed some light on the matter,” I said as I held up a holotape. The Gunner had been recording when she was killed. I played it on my Pip-Boy, and listened to this Private Hart speak to her commanding officer about hauling luggage from Lynn Woods for a robot butler named Wellingham.

“Wellingham?!” Valentine was shocked. Wellingham, I recalled, is the name of the Mr. Handy that works at an Upper Stands taphouse in Diamond City. “What the hell sort of business does that bartending bot have with Gunners?”

The tape continued, revealing the Gunners were being pursued by… something. Whatever it was, it was enough to have the commander in a mild panic. Everyone hurried inside the museum… except Private Hart, who was caught before she even knew what she was supposed to be running from.

A cold wind rattled the dead leaves on the trees and ground. “We goin’ in?” Valentine asked.

“My dear Valentine, this excursion was your suggestion. We would be remiss to turn back without investigating the ‘haunting.’”

“Thought you’d say that,” my partner grumbled and readied his gun. Together we descended into the basement.

We found the body of the commanding officer dismembered and beheaded on the floor, two of his squad in similar state close by. Something very large moved across the floorboards above our head. “Well, I don't think it's a mole rat,” Valentine softly muttered.

“Indeed.” I started to move toward the stair up to the main floor, the light of my Pip-Boy casting them in eerie green. The body of a dead Gunner hung through a gap in the dilapidated boards overhead. We froze as something pulled it out of sight.

“My god,” Valentine's voice betrayed a trace of fear. I couldn't blame him as a chill went down my own spine.

We could have turned back, but now I was curious. We crept up the stairs and entered the museum. The main floor of the building had been demolished, with little to indicate that once it had held any sort of exhibits or historical value. A low growl came from the back of the room as we hurried across the front, a massive scaled shape roaming the debris, its horned head turning as if looking for something.

We ran through the next doorway. “Front door’s chained shut,” Valentine whispered, “and getting that rusted lock off’s gonna make a lot of racket… what on earth?”

We’d stumbled upon a Gunner corpse in the museum’s bathroom. Scattered among his remains were gigantic eggs, their shells cracked or crushed. The man’s log provided an explanation - the Gunners were hired by Wellingham to bring him a nest of deathclaw eggs. The senior officers knew the mission, but the men, this sergeant and the private dead outside, and likely every other corpse in the building, had no idea what they were carrying.

I spotted a single undamaged egg and carefully picked it up.

“Letting a deathclaw see you carrying her egg ain’t the best idea,” Valentine muttered as he kept watch out the door.

“I have no intention of letting her. The nest is somewhere near Lynn Woods. We’ll have to make quick work of that chain on the door, or sneak out past -”

“Partner, I gotta admit, exactly how we’re gonna find a deathclaw nest without getting ripped apart escapes me.”

He had a point. “Still, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let that glorified liquor cabinet use this to feed his pampered customers.”

“Ah, spite. Few motivations are so great.”

“You think this is insane.”

“Nope. I always like the idea of returning stolen goods. Hey, now’s our chance. Let’s move.”

We managed to escape that place without drawing the deathclaw’s attention and headed for Lynn Woods. “You are certain you want to come with me to return this egg?”

“I'd rather it be me doing the returning, simply because I probably won't die if a deathclaw rips my arms off, but the idea's a good one. It's not easy to do the right thing for something that seems so evil, but everyone deserves their fair shot.”

His sincerity brought me up short. “Mr. Valentine, sometimes you are astounding,” I said with full affection.

He was amused, “Not bad yourself, Mr. Holmes.”

“I'm perfectly serious. The amount of compassion you maintain in the face of this world is nothing short of incredible.”

“Ain't always the case,” he cautioned, “and my patience for folks gets pretty short when they waste their chance to do good.”

“Be as humble as you like, I stand by my statement.”

He laughed, “God forbid I argue with your ridiculously high opinion of me.” His hand briefly brushed my lower back, “Come on, let's get that egg back to the nest.”

Having left the presumed mother of the eggs in Salem, it was something of a surprise when the other parent stepped out of the darkness as we crept toward the nest. We froze, the egg in my outstretched hands. It growled, but didn’t attack.

“Think it knows what we're trying to do?” Valentine whispered.

“I don't want to stay to find out,” I muttered, and gently put the egg in the pile of vegetation and dirt. The deathclaw took a single step forward as we slowly backed away, watching our retreat until we were willing to attempt turning tail and running as fast as we could away from that place.

“You know Holmes,” Valentine joked, “I think ‘no ghost stories’ might be a good company policy after all.”

#fallout 4 #fan fiction #nick valentine #the minutemen #sherlock holmes #crossover

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jpfitnesspro · 6 years ago

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The Life of a Personal Trainer #2: The Ups & Downs

Introduction

So last time we talked, I gave you my whole life story regarding fitness and how I went from California, to Kansas, back to California. If you haven’t already, I definitely recommend checking that out (or you may be a bit confused as to whats happening). In the second post of my blog, I go over the immediate ups and downs I have felt from this ruthless, saturated industry.

Robots Are Everywhere

Funny title, isn’t it? It’s very relate-able though; with personal training, comes numbers. You have to have a lot of numbers, whether that’s all in one place or in five different places. By that I mean in content, posts, presence, etc.- you name it, you need numbers. For example, if you pick one social media platform and hardly post, you won’t get anywhere with it. If you pick one and post very, very often, interact with people, make those posts high quality, then you will get great feedback. You can also have more than one platform to post content from, advertise, and just assert your presence, which is the route that I took. But I quickly realized that many of the interactions that would follow my posts, videos, and all other content were not authentic. I had one guy email me about training both his daughters. I’m not going to front either, I got pretty excited because I had just started and it looked like I was already going to have a handful of clients. After exchanging a few emails with him, I quickly realized it was a scam. He wanted me to charge him an extra thousand dollars, and then pay a “bus” driver to have his daughters dropped off at my gym. After talking to a few of the other trainers at my gym, they said that those situations happen all the time. Apparently the guy was going to pay my fees, have me give the “bus driver” some money, then cancel his payment so I would be down a thousand dollars. Good thing I blocked him after it started to sound too good to be true.

It wasn’t just that though- there is a lot more. I was going to try the app called Thumbtack, but it had so many user reviews claiming that there were fake accounts getting trainers to be charged money. How Thumbtack works is people can offer their services on there, but when you get a lead, you have to pay to talk to them. Shit business model, right? But on top of that were these fake account claims. I’ve also had poor success with the Letgo app, with people responding first, me replying, and then them ghosting me after that, which makes me think that these accounts might be fake as well. Social media isn’t much better, with so many bot accounts on Instagram its infuriating. I immediately want to talk shit to spam accounts who post some generic ass comment on my picture, clearly using a bot to reply, but I just remind myself it’s a waste of time. It’s hard to wash this unauthentic, robot feeling from my mouth; who the hell is real here? Not really sure, but I guess it’s something I just have to deal with in such a saturated industry.

Looking on the Bright Side

I guess its not so much looking on the bright side, versus there actually being good things that happened. The clients I have had have been great; training is my passion and I love it. The time I have trained people has been the best time by far. Still pumping out YouTube videos in an amazing gym, surrounded by people who are willing to support me every step of the way. Even though I haven’t had the most amazing success with getting clients on my own, I have still gotten some authentic leads, which is a start. Craigslist has been helpful, I just started my own Groupon merchant account (lets see how that goes), and I have had my ad in a pretty big paper for one week now. I’m going to give the paper ad about a month before I make any judgements, as I know those things take time. Here soon I’m going to sponsor a YouTuber named Vegan Gains (you may have heard of him). He has a pretty big channel filled with good content, and his videos are the reason I went vegan in the first place. I expect great things from that, as most of his viewers like fitness and many of them are vegan as well. With my regular content still pumping out, my ads and me sponsoring Vegan Gains, and me still putting in the work that I do, I have a positive outlook on the future. Sometimes I just have to remind myself to be patient, as moves I make now my not affect me until later.

On and On and Beyond

""I’ve tried and failed at more things than I can count, but it built me to who I am and what I do today""

Yes, that title is what you think it’s from. R.I.P to a legend. It also states how I feel about my career right now. Despite the ups and downs, I’m here to stay. I’m tired of switching locations, business practices, and angles I’ve taken in fitness. I originally wanted to be a physical therapist with a focus on strength and conditioning, hypertrophy, and strength gains, inspired by the likes of Quinn Henoch and Jeff Cavaliere. Then I realized that even though physical therapy is interesting, it isn’t focused on the things that interest me most. I’ve tried and failed at more things than I can count, but it built me to who I am and what I do today. I’m sick of starting over, I want to build. All I can do from here is stay positive, work very hard, make smart decisions, take small risks, and execute. I will let you guys know how all my business ventures pan out in the next blog post, thanks for following!

If enjoy the content I put out and would like to support, becoming a Patron is the best way to do so (other than make me your personal trainer). Any and all support is appreciated!

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millerjpower · 3 years ago

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#TwitchDoBetter, Fanhouse, & Diversifying Income

Preamble: I fully respect everyone's reactions & choices in response to the lack of safety on twitch. Nothing written here is a value judgement or suggestion of the "best" action, just explaining my actions.

TL;DR - if you want to support me off of twitch you can do to millerjpower.com/support.

August has been a lot for me as a small, marginalised activist & content creator on twitch. Twitch creators have been calling on the company more than ever to make their platform more accessible and safer. This is nothing new, but has escalated as RekItRaven started #TwitchDoBetter & harassment has increased on the platform in recent months, affecting medium sized Black creators the worst. Many are "hate raided" (ie. bombarded with racist, ableist, or transphobic copy paste messages from up to 100s of bot accounts in a matter of minutes) several times every stream, disrupting their work & potentially alienating audiences who were enjoying a usually chill & safe space.

As a small creator though it is a little different. I have been hate raided once - they humorously told me I'd never be a woman - but it was manageable & was barely a disruption. I'm not the main target for trolls as such a small streamer. However the whole atmosphere of the community during these events has be difficult, and it is hard not to second guess you're reaction to it. This is especially true as an autistic & a disabled person, seeing so many people changing platform, making more content in new places on top of what they already do; it's hard to not think "shit am I being judged for not following everyone to this platform" or "am I a fool for not stretching myself across more paying platforms". I am lucky to be reassured by friends, colleagues, and role models that everyone is entitled to do what's best for them, and I have incredible respect for people changing platform or joining more platforms. However, it is hard to not panic in the face of disordered or unwanted change as an autistic.

Thus, I wanted to share with the world what I'm doing in reaction to #TwitchDoBetter & why, to help me feel more confident in my choices and hopefully legitimise others who feel similarly to me.

I'm staying on Twitch (for the foreseeable).

As a small creator a really a lot on:

free and easy access

connections & overlap with other channels

discoverability

These are all things I reliably have on Twitch. It is quite scary though, as if my friends & connections all move to different platforms (to YouTube, Altair, or Fanhouse exclusively) I'll be forced to make a move to the most popular of those unless I've managed to grow significantly on my own. And while I have nothing against moving itself, the choice of where & potentially splitting my audience are all very stressful. I love that twitch is a hub for steamed content, it gives me that discoverability. It also gives me the ability to have my content be free & easily accessible. You can search "transgender" & "disabled" and see me pretty quickly, only having to sit through a quick ad. No-one needs to subscribe to support and enjoy my content, and the more people who enjoy it for free means more people coming in who can afford to throw some cash my way.

Twitch, on the face of it though, is a horrible way to make money. Although it's been amazing at bringing viewers to my channel and providing fun incentives for them, I only receive 50% of the money people give to me and that's after exchanging it from US dollars. Even then, I only get paid on a monthly basis if I have made $100; if one month I only reach $98 I don't get paid. Beyond hate raids then, another big reason streamers are moving or spreading over more platforms is to make a more acceptable rate. New popular platform Fanhouse offers creators 90% of money they bring in, Patreon between 95-90%, drawing many streamers to take it up as a second income to twitch.

As a small, disabled content creator I am reluctant to follow the trend, and equally feeling pressured to. Spreading myself across two platforms means spreading myself more thin. I work for myself because my disability makes it difficult to hold down a regular job full time; I'm already pushing myself to capacity to make a living. There is the option to move over my content to one of these platforms but I have reservations. As I said above, as a small creator I want my content to be free and easy to find. Although you can put content up for free on Patreon and Fanhouse, people assume that it's probably paid content when you share it on Twitter & the like, and neither of them are platforms you can just browse to look for new content. So it's creating more work for myself that isn't easily sharable and discoverable, not a good move for me.

What am I doing in response then?

Although I am not spreading myself to other platforms or leaving Twitch, that doesn't mean I'm ignoring the problem. My reaction is twofold: campaigning for change, and implementing safety tools. It is unfair that any marginalised people need to use up their labour and energy doing either of these things, but it is currently the best way to survive for me at least.

If you would like to campaign for change with me...

Follow RekItRaven

Tweet at Twitch telling them you want a safer platform

Take part in protests such as A Day Off Twitch and shouting in Twitch livestreams for change

BUT do not be rude to anyone who isn't doing all of these things, especially small and/or marginalised content creators. We're all doing our best

If you would like to up your safety tools...

Create a shutdown button for hate raids

Run commander root

Ban users on community ban lists

Increase your mod team if you can, and give them clear rules and protocols to follow

If you would like tips on how to do all of these things check out my guide to safety tools for small streamers, or look at hateraidresponse.carrd.co.

Thanks for reading my thoughts! If you would like to support me and keep my content free you can tip or subscribe at millerjpower.com/support!

#twitch #small streamer #twitch do better #a day off twitch #fanhouse #patreon #buy me a kofi

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Halo Infinite Multiplayer May Have Saved the Game

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

It hasn’t been an easy journey for Halo Infinite. A disastrous campaign reveal last July that turned the game into a punchline on social media, a delayed launch, and high-profile departures behind the scenes at developer 343 Industries have been the headlines that have plagued the title for the past year, an incredibly tumultuous period that seemed to kill the hype for Xbox’s biggest release of 2021. To gamers who already felt burnt out on the franchise after the divisive Halo 5: Guardians, it seemed unlikely that this latest sequel would revitalize their excitement for the 20-year-old shooter series.

But all 343 needed to change the conversation was to put the game in players’ hands. A technical preview held from July 29 to Aug. 2 finally allowed fans (including this writer) to jump into Halo Infinite‘s multiplayer and get a feel for 343’s take on a faster Halo PvP experience that also hearkens back to the franchise’s roots as one of the foremost competitive console shooters. Despite offering only a snippet of the final product — three maps, a handful of weapons, and the first 20 tiers of a Battle Pass — the preview seems to have been a success, with many players immediately asking for more when the demo closed down on Monday.

The thought that the game that brought us “Craig” memes, and lots of whispers about its troubled development, would ever leave people asking for more seemed like wishful thinking a year ago, but 12 months is an eternity in the gaming world and 24-hour news cycle, and now Halo Infinite‘s fortunes seem to have changed (at least on social media) on the strength of the impressive tech preview.

Me now that the Tech Preview is over. #HaloInfinite #HaloInfiniteMP pic.twitter.com/zN8JBfNFBJ

— HCS Now (@HCS_Now) August 3, 2021

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

I put several hours into the preview myself, trying out the new maps — the entry-level Live Fire, the more vertical Recharge, and the action-packed Bazaar — and facing off against the surprisingly competent AI bot enemies with a team of three other players. My biggest takeaway is that matches feel much faster and kinetic, as you charge, slide, jump, or swing around the arenas, unleashing grenades and clips of the new MA40 Assault Rifle onto your enemies. Sprint, a controversial feature to some veteran Halo fans who feel the tweak to player movement robs the experience of a more classic feel, is back in Halo Infinite, upping the pace of matches to what one should expect from a modern shooter but not quite as high-speed as Call of Duty. It felt like a nice balance to me. Jumping felt suitably floaty, though, which should delight purists.

Opponents remain spongy in the classic Halo way, forcing you to use a combination of tactics in every encounter — jumping around the map while tossing grenades at the other team during a firefight feels as good as ever — a nice departure from the twitch Call of Duty gameplay that has largely become the norm of the genre. Like the best Halo games, Infinite still encourages you to get into players’ faces to land the killing blow, which proves to be incredibly hectic when in the tighter corners of Recharge or Live Fire. Weapons, grenades, and melee remain at the center of the Halo experience, with only the latter leaving some room for improvement. The melee mechanic felt sluggish or downright unresponsive at time. When landing that final elbow to your opponent’s head means the difference between life or death, that’s no good.

But that’s what the technical preview is for, and player feedback will hopefully help 343 iron out the kinks, especially with some of the weapons. While the Assault Rifle and the MK50 Sidekick pistol (a new version of the series’ classic magnum) felt like a winning loadout most of the time, the new Pulse Carbine and VK78 Commando rifle — both best at mid-range — packed less of a punch. One standout was the Skewer, a one-shot killing machine that impales your enemies as long as you time the shot just right. In fact, some may end up calling this launcher overpowered, but at least it spawns after a cooldown, which means the playing field won’t be full of them during the match. And what else can I say about my beloved Needler except that it’s still so very good to charge into battle with it like an absolute badass.

My favorite of the three maps was Bazaar, an Earth-set map that will delight Halo 2 players with fond memories of the New Mombasa sections. While teams start at the opposite side of the map, all lanes lead to the map’s central market, where you’ll have to fight over the high ground as well as the power-ups and weapons scattered in the area. While you’ll be able to snatch up Drop Walls — new deployable cover that will remind you of Halo 3‘s Bubble Shield, minus the 360-degree protection — almost from the start on the match, you’ll have to wait to get your hands on spawning Overshields and active camo, which trigger a cooldown after each use. And when they spawn, you’ll have to rush to snatch them up before the enemy team does.

One piece of equipment you’ll definitely want to get your hands on is the brand-new Grappleshot, the grappling hook first teased in last year’s gameplay demo. It is perhaps the biggest game changer to the multiplayer experience, as you can use the Grappleshot to quickly swing around a map like the multi-level Recharge and surprise your enemies from above, or simply to pick up weapons from a distance. Players bothered by how sprinting changes the pacing of Halo may also have a few complaints about the Grappleshot, although I found it added another plenty of interesting options to the way you attack, especially once you learn how to launch yourself at your opponents by grappling onto them.

Just how easy it’ll be to ambush skilled player-controlled enemies with the Grappleshot remains to be seen but don’t dismiss the bot AI, either. These bots are impressive, intelligent enough to flank you or chase you down a lane, and adapt incredibly well to each situation, switching between grenades and melee in a remarkably organic way. They also became more savage as the weekend went on, with 343 turning up the bot difficulty a bit each day. By Sunday, these bots were actually winning matches. There was also a short PvP Social Slayer test period on Sunday that I didn’t have a chance to participate in, but I never got bored of the PvE opponents, which is a good sign for the Brutes, Elites, and Grunts in the story campaign. If they’re as intelligent as the harder difficulty bots in this technical preview, expect a formidable challenge.

For the first time since last July, I’m actually excited for Halo Infinite, a sentiment echoed by other fans on Twitter over the weekend, and I can’t wait to play more of the game’s free-to-play multiplayer when it launches later this fall. (Yes, “free-to-play” does mean there will be in-game purchases and Battle Passes with rewards featuring plenty of cosmetic items to customize your armor, weapons, vehicles, etc., but I didn’t spent too much time with the customization beyond checking out the shader system, which definitely feels like a downgrade from just being able to color your armor however the hell you want.)

But there’s still so much to see from the game, especially the controversial campaign mode demoed last year. While the technical preview was never about the campaign, it accidentally revealed quite a bit about the mode. Leaked story spoilers found by dataminers within the technical preview’s files have received a polarized reception at best, with some fans already writing off the plot while others are keeping a more open mind until the final product is released.

The entire Halo Infinite campaign has now leaked. I looked at the leaks. All I am going to say is: LOL

— DreamcastGuy (@DreamcastGuy) August 2, 2021

I've read the Halo Infinite leaks, very happy with the campaign, although I have some nitpicks. Obviously it isn't the full experience, so I will reserve judgement for launch.

— Ibibo (@DatIbby) July 31, 2021

not spoiling anything, but if the leaks are true, Halo Infinite's campaign should be at most $50.

— Solar the Halo Alf (@flip_solar) August 3, 2021

There has been campaign leaks that were data mined from the pre-release multi-player and they say it's really good. Halo infinite, it's story doesn't have to be perfect, but it just has to be good. Enough to bring in new fans, and bring back old ones back into the fold.

— Solomon Orenstein (@Sorenstein901) July 31, 2021

Are story spoilers enough to really tank the game after such an excellent showing last weekend? Remember that The Last of Us Part II, arguably the biggest release of the PlayStation 4 era, had its entire story leaked a month before its eventual launch, and it still became the third best-selling PlayStation game of all time, discourse about the story notwithstanding. Like with the multiplayer, the best way to judge Halo Infinite‘s story will be to play it for yourself.

Halo Infinite multiplayer will launch as a free-to-play experience that anyone can jump into regardless of whether they’ve bought the full package containing the campaign, so the PvP won’t really live or die by its campaign, no matter its quality. Ultimately, the campaign is a discussion for another day, and judging solely what I’ve played of the game’s multiplayer, I think there’s finally plenty to be excited about in this new chapter of Halo.

Halo Infinite is coming to Xbox Series X/S, Xbox One, PC, and Xbox Game Pass later this year.

The post Halo Infinite Multiplayer May Have Saved the Game appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ls8ph3

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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kafkasgods · 4 years ago

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bentley 🍑 BOT 10/29/2020 Bentley knocked nervously on Faaya’s door at ten past, holding the box of macarons carefully tied with a bow and the Queen Hera’s peacock logo on the top. They glanced at the door to Luke’s as they went by. It might’ve been easier to talk to both of them at once, just to get it over with, but they felt like this was something more personal for the two of them. And Faaya did value her privacy. They’d deal with telling Luke after they were sure Faaya was going to be alright.

They never expected that they’d be the first to pick a side, or how it’d gone down. But at the very least they could rest easier knowing Deimos wouldn’t be hounding Faaya about his offspring’s reluctance any longer. As the door opened, they extended the box. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long," they said, mustering a small grin and a weak joke. "They took longer to bake than expected. I think it was all the salt in them."

@Faaya Shah

faaya shah BOT 10/29/2020 Ever since fighting Luke, making amends with people she hadn’t thought she would, and her encounter with Phobos, Faaya felt most at peace than she ever had. It felt like she’d been fighting something for nothing and now all felt right and natural. Though, it hadn’t been long so not many could tell the difference just yet. But she was glad Bentley reached out to her because she was just about to do the same.

Faaya’s face brightened into a smile at the sight of him and the treats. “I’d make a snarky comment back, but I’d rather just eat them.” Simultaneously, Faaya moved aside, closing the door beside Bentley with her hip as she opened the box to grab one. “So did you want to make small talk first or say what’s on your mind? Oh, and Luke and I are good.” Faaya held the box out for him to take a macaroon himself.

@Bentley Persico November 8, 2020

bentley 🍑 BOT 11/08/2020 They gave her a small, tired grin, but it was sincerely relieved. “Just like that, hey? Glad to hear it.” It was more or less what they’d expected. Enyo’s descendants were probably the best equipped to understand one another’s temperaments just the same as the children of Phobos or Deimos were. They couldn’t imagine a disagreement being so large as to actually fracture their friendships—which was a thought they clung to now.

“I—um. No, to the small talk, thank you,” they started, before halting in the middle of the room, not sure where or what to do with themself. “I...I joined Ares.” Their gaze fell to the floor, with the words.

“I know I... I said so many times I would never do it, but I just… I broke.” It sounded so final, so small and defeated to their own ears. They tried to reign in some of the tangled up emotions they were feeling, put a better spin on it. “But, maybe it’s not so bad, I reckon? I’ll have control over my powers now. And Deimos should leave you alone now, so… There’s that, at least.”

@Faaya Shah November 9, 2020

faaya shah BOT 11/09/2020 Pulling the box back once Bentley moved past it without taking one, she placed it on her kitchen island. Apparently, it wasn’t a talk that involved the consumption of desserts, so she tried to finish the one she’d already started and leaned against the counter to listen to him talk. To be fair, what he shared with her did make her stop chewing for a brief moment. There was an obvious conflict on Bentley’s face and Faaya knew better than try to speak before he could get everything out. Bentley needed to stutter through things to not get misunderstood.

“What exactly do you mean, you ‘broke,’ Bentley?” Very easily, she could have shared she’d switched sides as well, but she was more concerned with that. Faaya wondered if she had anything to do with it considering it was allegedly implied she should’ve been the one to convince him of it. “What made you break?”

@Bentley Persico November 14, 2020

bentley 🍑 BOT 11/14/2020 ( tw accident mention )

they might’ve tried to be less dramatic, less blunt about it all, but they were exhausted. and faaya knew what it meant to them. she was the first real friend he’d ever had. until effy had shown up at camp and bentley was finally claimed, the two of them had treated one another like long lost siblings. and she knew that this wasn’t something he’d ever do lightly. she was right to ask, but they hated to go back through it.

it made their throat feel like sandpaper, trying to explain what’d happened. “i lost control. at work.” they left off the part about the text messages. none of this was on faaya, or luke, and it would’ve likely happened sooner or later even if they'd tried to avoid it. they finally sat down at the sleek kitchen table.

“the whole cafe got hit before i could get out of there." they scrubbed a hand through their hair and looked at her, desperately. "someone crashed their fucking car cause of me, faaya… i got to a field and just stayed there but it took me... a while, all night really, to get it back under control, and then… then i texted dom, and i just… i wanted to go home. i wanted it to be over, so i contacted deimos.”

@Faaya Shah November 15, 2020

faaya shah BOT 11/15/2020 Though Faaya wasn’t surprised by the revelation, she sucked at her teeth displeased. Of course it’d be something like that, so she expected it to be something rough, but she had asked Bentley what had caused it and they’d evaded the question. Either it was really bad or it was something she did. Perhaps both. Especially considering it was Dom who they’d called and not her. Bentley would never tell, so Faaya took it for face value. It was something to ruminate over later.

For now, all Faaya could offer was her concern and support. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the couch. “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times, but it’s not your fault. The same thing could happen to me and you wouldn’t say it was my fault either. But...” Faaya considered her position. “I think you did the right thing. I think you did the best thing for yourself. I did the same thing too, so it’s nothing to feel ashamed or guilty for.”

@Bentley Persico November 17, 2020

bentley 🍑 BOT 11/17/2020 faaya was right, as she usually was. naturally bentley’s first instinct was to blame himself, but his second instinct was to put that blame solely at the feet of the gods, where it actually belonged. the only downside to that was how helpless it made him feel as a consequence. if the gods were to blame, there was nothing he could control—no action he could take to improve his situation, so in a way it was worse that it wasn’t his fault. for so long he'd relied on his own mind, his own self-control, to get through each day. now a ring rested on his hand that did it all for him, automatically. did that make him weaker? he had to wonder.

he was still turning that over in his mind, ruminating on it with his fingers laced together on the table before him, the ring from deimos glinting silver and black as he turned it gingerly with his thumb.

but when faaya continued, his head snapped up abruptly. “what?” she’d done the same? his brow screwed up in confusion. “what do you mean? what did you do?”

@Faaya Shah November 19, 2020

faaya shah BOT 11/19/2020 following the movement made by bentley, faaya’s eyes trailed down to their fingers, watching idly as they fiddled with the ring they was wearing. it took a moment to realize she’d never seen it before and bentley wasn’t a jewelry person. before she could inquire about it, bentley snapped to attention, making faaya flinch. “same as you,” faaya repeated, slowly and carefully. “i summoned phobos and demanded control in exchange for my allegiance. nothing particular happened unlike your situation, but i was fighting it for so long and for what reason? my choice doesn’t really matter in the long run, no one’s does. so i just choose what was best for me.”

giving a short pause, faaya bit her bottom lip and lowered her gaze before raising it again. “i like my power, bentley. i like being able to control it. no one can touch me this way or hurt me. not before i hurt them first. i like being a person people are scared to cross. i don’t feel guilty for it either. i’m not kind or gentle, not like you.” admitting their fundamental differences seemed moot and faaya wasn’t even sure why she pointed it out. it was possible she was hesitant about bentley’s judgement. “what happens in this war...i won’t regret anything.”

pulling off from where faaya leaned, she stood before bentley, raising their chin. “and you deserve to hold your head high with what you do too.” patting their chest and squaring their shoulders to straighten them out, she continued, “so make choices, bentley, and don’t look back.” @Bentley Persico November 21, 2020

bentley 🍑 BOT 11/21/2020 at first faaya’s explanation made his heart sink, but then bentley surprised himself as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and glanced down to the table again. “i would’ve paid good money to hear you laying out your terms to him,” he admitted. it was very faaya, to take control of her life simply because she’d had enough of the bullshit, gods or no gods. he was proud of her. bittersweet as it was, at least the indecision was over with, and they would face the consequences side by side.

then she continued, and the earnestness that shone from her made his chest ache. not for the first time he wished it’d been easier for her, that they’d found one another sooner. he wasn’t sure why she was bringing it up now, like she needed to justify her choice to him—obviously, she didn’t. “you shouldn’t feel guilty. if i’d needed to defend myself, i’d probably be more fond of it, too.” he shook his head slowly. “all i’ve ever wanted for us is to be able to choose for ourselves, you know that. maybe this is the closest we’ll get.”

he let her adjust his posture and lift his chin without comment. he felt more sure of himself, but he didn't know if it was from the certainty of her words, or because she was the one speaking them. when she was all done, he stood, and pulled her into a warm hug. staying still for a moment, he remembered how strange it had felt when he’d first started growing taller than her. “you are kind, you know—a selective kindness, maybe. but it’s there,” he said quietly. “i consider myself lucky that i get to see it.” he turned his head slightly, to brush a gentle kiss to her temple. clearing his throat, he stepped back, trying to steer them back to something less serious. "where'd those macarons go, i didn't actually taste test that batch..."

@Faaya Shah

faaya shah BOT 11/21/2020 if faaya was being honest, she’d never expected this conversation to happen. bentley was suppose to side with athena and the cracks of their friendship would start to form. that’s what she’d prepared herself for. so when they openly smiled and reassured her, full of utter understanding, faaya felt some tension leave her shoulders. it felt a little easier to breathe. it was odd, considering she didn’t even know it had weighed on her in the first place. the corners of her mouth tugged upwards emulating bentley’s as she looked up at them.

then the hug. they’d pulled her into it, entirely out of her comfort zone and it was too much of an astonishment to resist. they’d hug before, sure, but somehow, probably after such a weighted conversation, there was more meaning. after a moment, faaya wrapped her arms around them back and hid her face in their torso as she listened to them speak. no one, not even dayn, thought she was kind. faaya knew she wasn’t, but the certain belief in bentley’s voice made up her mind. she couldn’t make bentley ever lose that faith in her.

they kissed her forehead and now that was too much. faaya’s face was hot and she’d pulled back immediately, turning away, glad for the change in subject. if there hadn’t been one, she might’ve said something mean, contrary to the promise she’d made just a moment ago. “it’s on the counter.” she gestured, walking further away as she tried to relax. finally, rounding the kitchen island, she was across bentley and took another macaron as well. a cool face was easier to have if she was concentrated on the dessert. “my terms weren’t really as exciting as you make them out to be. things with phobos and i aren’t very dramatic.” she nibbled the edge of it, wiping the crumbs that stuck to the brick lipstick of her bottom lip. “you’re going to have to tell me your demands though. the ring’s new.” @Bentley Persico November 27, 2020

bentley 🍑 BOT 11/27/2020 spotting the box, bentley nodded and removed one of the sweets for himself, covering his hesitation with taking a bite and chewing slowly. despite everything he’d prepared for an explanation, there was one thing that he didn’t want to reveal to her, and this question pulled painfully close. he swallowed, then continued in a casual tone. “it... suppresses most of my abilities. i can still sense terror a little, but it won’t grant me the same strength it did. while i wear it, i won’t have to worry about losing control, inflicting nightmares… any of it. it's like... a muzzle of sorts for my abilities, i suppose.”

but he watched her reaction closely. the trinket on his hand was something they both would've wanted, at various times in their lives. that deimos had simply handed it over, like he could’ve done any time in the past twenty-five years… when he had granted bentley’s wish so easily, the demigod had laughed aloud, in bitterness more than amusement. it seemed almost unbelievable to him, how quickly deimos had given in when it looked like he was about to lose. if he'd known what it'd take to strongarm his father, he'd probably have done it years ago. he still hadn't told faaya everything that had happened in the field—nor would he ever, if he could help it.

“the trade-off,” he added, his voice dropping a little, “was agreeing to remove it when he bids me to—which i have to assume means, if there’s to be an actual battle.” but if it ever got to that point, he was sure he could rely on his friends not to let him harm any of them, and intended to talk to at least a couple of them to make sure they knew his wishes on the matter.

@Faaya Shah November 29, 2020

faaya shah BOT 11/29/2020 bentley spoke with hesitation and it was clear to faaya why. there was something they was omitting from her. she had known when he said his ring was meant to ‘muzzle’ his powers. faaya, who maybe in the past would have liked something like that, only felt insulted at the thought now. the ring appeared more like a shackle in her opinion and if it’d bother her, then it was hard to imagine deimos agreeing to such a demeaning and disrespectful term. phobos hated when faaya would badmouth the gift he’d gave her.

bentley had made an offer deimos couldn’t refuse and she could not imagine what he’d come up with. usually, she’d have left him alone, not pressing or prying into his business. but when it came to something that could have been a danger or great struggle for bentley, this was something she had to know. “what did deimos want from you? he didn’t agree to your request with a nice and easy stipulation like that for nothing.” faaya gave him a resolute and steady stare. pointedly, a thin, threatening layer of fear and intimidation wafted in the air. very rarely had faaya purposely used her abilities in his presence. “what did you do, bentley?” @Bentley Persico December 11, 2020

bentley 🍑 BOT 12/11/2020 ( tw implied suicide/self-sacrifice mention )

he ducked his head and smiled a little, turning the half eaten macaron in his hand. trust faaya to spot the hole he’d left in the plot within seconds. he debated trying to lie to her, but she’d asked so flatly that there was no chance he could avoid answering with equal directness.

but he didn’t want to. he looked up, meeting the scrutiny of her stare. the air around them seemed to shift, in a way that was imperceptible to anyone but a child of fear. “faaya, really?” bentley said, admonishing her softly as he felt the familiar ache of fear in his chest—the one that said he was going to hurt her, in some unforgivable way. normally he would be able to dismiss it with a thought, but this time he wasn’t sure it was wrong.

“it’s what i didn’t do,” he said, quietly. “it’d been hours without finding the right frequency to turn it down. and i got… tired, and angry. so i summoned him. and told him if he didn’t give me some way to control it, i would just... leave town.”

he held faaya’s eyes, knowing she would see immediately what the implication was. they both knew that outside the town’s protective borders, facing monsters, he wouldn’t last very long on his own. “deimos is… possessive, childish. so i wagered he wouldn’t love the notion of his toys getting taken away—even his least favourite one in the box.”

bentley couldn’t look at her any longer. “thankfully, it seems i was right.” he swallowed down an apology. he didn’t know what could possibly make it better, that he would choose his freedom over everything else in his life—including faaya herself. he’d left her before, for school, and he knew she still resented him for that, even if she didn't admit it. this was exponentially worse.

@Faaya Shah

faaya shah BOT 12/11/2020 there was no need to press hard because bentley reluctantly admitted the information he had been holding back on. and maybe he’d been right to because when he finally told her, faaya felt her heart go cold. bentley was willing to kill himself over it? obviously—obviously it meant it was a deeper issue than she could properly delve into and it had nothing to do with her at all, but faaya couldn’t help but feel some type of hurt or anger or maybe both.

she lowered the macaron back down as she tried taking bentley’s confession in. was it just a bluff to deimos? would he have really done it? or was he just something he’d snapped out from emotion. faaya bit her tongue. that wasn’t like bentley. no, it’d be something he thought long and hard about. they weren’t important enough to save him from himself. faaya wasn’t. bentley’s existence was precarious and spending her whole life with him hadn’t done anything to change that. this hurt was not one she could overcome. faaya needed distance. for now at least. she didn’t know.

“i’m glad it worked out for you, bentley. i hope things between you and your father get better.” her tone was impassioned and flat as when she spoke to most. she stepped back from the counter. “i have some things to do, so can you go?” there was no doubt she was being a fucking asshole after her friend had admitted to something as dark as that, but at the moment she didn't care. faaya had never been very compassionate. did it matter anyways? @Bentley Persico

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modelronpagame · 6 years ago

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A Creator’s Love || Mina + Mamoru || Re: Trial Results, Red, Kaz

When the mascots fell to the floor, Mina was surprisingly quick to hobble over to them to begin checking them over. Flipping open a panel in the back of their heads and cradling each carefully as she tried to further examine the damage, her shocked stare had turned to the center of the runway with the rest of you.

“M-Modelbot...”

Her voice took on the tone of a disbelieving parent who hadn’t seen their child in quite a long time.

“Modelbot... This? Y-You... You’ve been helping with this!?”

While the betrayal was expected, the girl’s concern seems to be manifesting far stronger than that. But before she says more, her wounded gaze stares at the other person to be voted upon.

“...A-And Red-san, never do something like that a-again! You... Y-You could’ve gotten hurt! All of you...! Please, I told you not to do that. I-If they didn’t intervene-”

Way to hit her with this all at once. Happening to be holding onto Modelkuma, her grip on them tightens almost protectively as she tries to contain the swirl of emotions she’s encountering.

Luckily, Kaz’s gentle address and something logical to focus on is able to stop more tears from coming.

“...Yes. I-I can do that.”

Laying the modelmascots onto their backs gently and studying them with a frown, she slowly stands again to address you all. Her eyes keep looking at Modelbot with disbelief, but she makes sure to keep her focus on everyone. It’s clear that she’s torn between running to the aforementioned bot and hiding behind a podium.

“Modelbot... w-was the first robot I created for Huang and HP’s Most Excellent. That is correct. Their purpose was, uhm, remarkably similar to the Judges’ Huang chose prior to this tragedy. They were to be asked with secretarial work, assisting new models, a-and to become the face of this company.”

“He told me that some benefactors of the company had wanted me to ‘work out the kinks’ with the basis of failed AI they had started. All I were given were their designations and a mess of code.” A pause. “And before you ask, yes I realize I should have asked for more details - but it seemed innocuous enough.”

And in the next breath, bitterness begins to surface.

“Anyway: Huang didn’t like Modelbot from the start. He told me that they weren’t ‘cute’ or ‘stylish’ enough to be the company’s mascot.” Her eyes narrowed, “But I thought that demeaning of them and myself, so I negotiated that he at least give them a shot past his shallow vision.”

“I stayed overtime here constantly since I couldn’t take them home with me. It was up to KIT and I to be their caretakers, a-and they’re incredibly bright I’ll add. They were the first AI of their kind that I had encountered, s-since they grew and learned at a rate very similar to a child.”

Her expression darkens,

“As mentioned before and to me by others... I would only learn very recently that they were, i-in fact.... well... A child.”

The scientist crosses an arm across her body protectively and averts her gaze from her creation.

“...No matter what they did, Xiaozhu and others berated them. Yes they made mistakes, but that’s apart of learning? I could show you all the scars on my arms and hands from my learning curve. But he really acted as if Modelbot could never do anything right. Even back then, I tried to explain that they were on the level of a young person and, from experience I know, screaming at children shuts them down.”

“The camel that broke the straw,” She pauses, realizes the inaccuracy to the phrase, and shakes her head at herself, “...Or, you know, that phrase. Uhm, that was during a progress report. I couldn’t be with Modelbot 24/7 and... Huang was just being so critical of them. Modelbot... went on a rampage, I guess is the best description. They threw a pot of boiling coffee at him. If I hadn’t gotten in between them, I-I fear things would have gotten uglier.”

She closes her eyes and bites at her lip. When her eyes reopen again, they’re full of sadness.

“It was at that point I was... asked to terminate them.”

Her eyes finally land back on Modelbot and don’t stray this time. She studies their metal work and eyes, for what she’s allowed, as if searching her mind for further details.

“Killing an AI like them is akin to committing a murder in my mind. I pleaded to spare them but... It was either me or a more capable scientist who would be asked to dismantle them.”

Mina huffs and mumbles something none of you can understand while clenching her jaw.

“So... I agreed. However, I never said I would go all the way through. I chose instead to sedate Modelbot and hide them in a safety case until I could find a way to take them home with me. If Huang knew this I would have been targeted for theft, so I chose to put all of the work I could into the others to satisfy him.”

She indicates attention to the deactivated Judges laying some ways away from the circle of podiums, her eyes following to their fallen forms.

“I wasn’t sure what I had done so differently at the time to make Modelbot develop that quickly, but the others were developing at a similar pace. Upon request from my boss, and against my better judgement, I was to put in a fail safe that could stop these new robots from ‘rebelling’ against us - even if they were agitated. I was supposed to be the keeper of this command system, however...”

Her eyes land again on Modelbot.

“...If someone knew my coding well enough to decipher it, taking over the system and enforcing new directives I can’t imagine was that difficult.”

Seeming to be at the end of her explanation, Mina folds her hands and averts her stare to the ground ahead of her.

“I’m not sure how Modelbot broke the sedation or when that would have been, but, that’s the long and short of it.”

“B-But knowing all of this, this is why I’m going to plead with you to not hold the Judges, the Robotic Staff, o-or even Modelbot at fault. While if... i-if Modelbot helping to start this killing game is true, I cannot blame them for hating humans. If anything, blame me for not seeing the warning signs. B-Blame me for not putting my foot down. As their creator, I’m responsible.”

And from the back of the room, a surprisingly missing voice joins the fray.

“Mina-chan’s such a softy, eh?”

Approaching the podiums is none other than Mamoru.

“That’s what I don’t get about humans. You guys are sooooooo hard on yourselves! You take everything way too personally.”

They completely ignore any agitation their very presence causes among those gathered and salutes Kaz.

“Yup, yup! I’ll answer one question to the best of my abilities. Keep in mind, I can’t give you hard information on who “The Boss” is.”

#modelronpa #chrono #chapter five #chapter 5 #mina #trial #mamoru

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marvelleous · 8 years ago

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waking up is the hardest goodbye

summary: “According to Radcliffe, May had been fighting her way out of every scenario they placed her in, waking up, escaping. He’d tried everything, even altering Bahrain, to keep her sedated. But it all failed. Until they’d transferred her consciousness to the framework. She’s been thriving.”Phil needs to enter the framework in order to rescue Melinda, but he’s afraid of what he might be taking her away from.

notes: someone posted a bts photo of ming with bangs to the philinda chatroom, and a thousand messages later, this story was born. also, this is everything that our fandom deserves, but probably won’t get, so here you go friends! thank you to itsamagicalplace (emma) for the title, and tessdebelle (stef) for beta-ing.

read on AO3

There are men bleeding out all around them, bad soldiers fighting for an even worse leader, but Phil pays them no mind as he and Daisy run through the halls, heading towards the last unexplored room in this god-forsaken compound. There is nowhere else; they’ve searched every level, checked all passageways. They must be keeping her there. Daisy blasts through the door but stands back to let him through first; she wasn’t going to stand between a man driven into desperation and the woman he loved. They enter the room, a lab, and sure enough, May is there, strapped upright to a vertical gurney, an oddly futuristic helmet on her head. Radcliffe’s murder bot had been taken out by Daisy earlier, but the bad doctor is there himself, arms slowly raising in mock surrender as Phil points a gun at him. “What did you do to her?” He doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t shout it with anger. It’s a question and he wants an answer. That’s all. But there’s something in his tone that frightens even Daisy; she’s never heard him speak like this before and it terrifies her. “She’s quite fine, Agent Coulson. Perfectly fine.” Daisy thinks that she sees Coulson’s arm twitch a little and honestly, even if he can hold in his anger, she doesn’t have to. There’s a memory in the back of her mind, back to a simpler if just as terrifying time. I’m furious. But I’m sure as hell not gonna waste it on a tantrum. I’m gonna mine it, save it… She had been controlling her emotions, trying to remain stoic, brave in the face of danger. If Coulson was coping, so could she. But now was the time to let her feelings out. She can feel the vibrations run through her arm, flowing through her fingers and in the blink of an eye, Radcliffe is against the wall, held back by the force of her tremors. She still holds back, keeps her powers in check; it she lets go, she might shatter every bone in his body.

It’s nothing short of what he deserves after putting their team, putting Coulson, through so much grief, but they might still need his knowledge. And so she keeps her arm aimed at him and turns back, watching as Coulson lowers his gun and tentatively approaches May, taking a moment to just stare at her, afraid that if he blinks she’ll just disappear. “What did he to do you?” he whispers again, this time to the unconscious Melinda, unsure of how to proceed. She’s breathing, the steady rise and fall of her chest is only enough to reassure him that she’s alive, not that she’s okay. He can hear the beeping of the heart monitor, see the even numbers; she’s resting, physically there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her. His first instinct is to pull the helmet off her, remove the restraints holding her there and take her in his arms and carry her away from this place. But as he reaches for it; there’s a shout of alarm that makes him pause.

“Don’t! If you rip her out of there it could destroy her mind.”

They already know Radcliffe is untrustworthy - Phil wants to ignore the man’s words, to take Melinda and get out of here, but he can hear Fitzsimmons in his ear, telling him to be cautious; that the doctor might not be lying.

“We’ll be at your location in five minutes sir,” Simmons tells him, and so they wait.

He can’t just stand there, watching her, so still. It’s not right. So he takes her hand, relishing in the warmth still there, his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above her knuckles. He can feel Daisy watching him in this vulnerable state, but he doesn’t care. They’d feared the worst, and even with all the hope that he had, there was a small part of his mind telling him that it was too late, that she was gone. The part that blamed himself for not noticing that she was missing; letting a robot masquerade as his best friend of thirty years for god-knows how long. He had been distracted, unfocused, too busy smiling, flirting and rejoicing at the possibility of her returning his feelings. If only he had realised sooner; spotted a flaw. If Melinda had been harmed in any way, if she didn’t return as she had left, he would never forgive himself.

It feels like an eternity to him before they finally hear the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, and another lifetime before Fitz is rushing in, Mack two steps behind, trailed by four heavily armed agents.

“Simmons is with the Director. He’s pretty banged up,” Fitz says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he makes his way over to them. Phil can only give a curt nod at that statement, not even turning to acknowledge them, eyes trained on Melinda.

At first he can hear their voices in the background, discussing the events that had just played out, how to proceed now, but then it fades to indistinct chatter and eventually a soft buzzing noise at the edge of his consciousness.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they can’t bring her out of this safely. They have a copy of her memories in the form of the LMD, but after today, no matter the outcome, he’ll have his team destroy it. It wasn’t fair to Melinda, and as much as he loathed to say it, it wasn’t fair to the LMD, who, while a robot, could clearly feel all the emotions of a human. Better a quick death.

He lets his shoulders fall slightly when he feels Daisy’s hand on his arm, waiting for her to deliver the news.

“Fitz says that from what he can tell, pulling her out of the simulation could cause irreparable damage. According to Radcliffe, May had been fighting her way out of every scenario they placed her in, waking up, escaping. He’d tried everything, even altering Bahrain, to keep her sedated. But it all failed. Until they’d transferred her consciousness to the framework. She’s been thriving.”

Phil wants Radcliffe to experience the pain that Melinda has gone through for putting her through Bahrain again and again. She shouldn’t have had to relive that. He doesn’t want to imagine what Melinda is seeing in there now; in that fake world that exists only in one’s mind. But she must be happy, content, if she is no longer trying to leave it. For a split second, and no longer than that, he wonders if he should just leave her there, let her live out her days in whatever world she has built for herself, but that thought disappears before it can truly form. He knows Melinda. He’s known her for years. She wouldn’t want this.

And he��s selfish. For as long as she’s in there, she isn’t here, by his side, where he needs her the most. There had been a period of time, between Bahrain and his death where they had drifted apart, and then again when she had left S.H.I.E.L.D. to try and patch things up with Andrew. He doesn’t want to live his life like that. He doesn’t want to live in a world where she exists only in a comatose state.

He wants her by his side; rolling her eyes at his lame jokes, cracking a smile when she thinks that he can’t see. He wants those late night mission briefings where he needs coffee to stay awake, where he makes her tea instead. He wants to watch her work out, regaling her with his troubles or worries while she listens with all the understanding in the world.

He wants his partner back.

He needs her.

“How do we get her out?”

Ten minutes later, he finds himself strapped up beside Melinda as Daisy watches him with what can only be described as a mixture of concern and admiration.

“The only way to get Agent May out safely is to have her want to leave the framework herself.” Fitz had explained to them while glaring at Radcliffe. Phil honestly had been too distracted by everything going on to notice what had happened between the two; but he imagines Radcliffe’s betrayal must have fit Fitz the hardest, considering the bond that had been forming.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Daisy had asked before Phil could even open his mouth to respond. The possibilities running through his mind were endless, but he had only entertained them briefly before Radcliffe himself had spoken up from where Mack had restrained him.

“Someone would have to enter the framework and convince her to leave.”

Daisy had asked the man if he was crazy. Mack had answered that he was definitely crazy. Fitz had thrown his arms up into the air and started mumbling about the ridiculous of the situation.

“I’ll do it,” Phil had interjected, before their arguments could continue any further. And that’s when Daisy had really blown up at him. Told him he was being stupid, that they couldn’t trust the doctor, that May wouldn’t want him to risk his life trying to save hers. He had let her yell, just long enough for her to get those feelings off her chest, before glancing at Melinda and shaking his head.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

Only then had her features softened, a look of understanding forming as she nodded in resignation before waving for Fitz to comply. Mack had just stood there in the background, not even trying to hide his judgement. He understood. Mack was just trying to look out for him.

“She’ll be really mad at you for risking yourself like this,” Daisy tells him with a sad smile, turning her head to glance at May. Fitz is fiddling with dials beside them, trying to get everything absolutely correct, taking no risks in a situation this dire.

“I’m counting on it,” he responds, forcing his body to relax. He’s afraid of what he might see in there, what he might be taking away from her. He’s afraid that she might leave with him but always resent what she’d lost. But he’s most afraid that she’ll want to stay, and that if she does, he’ll have no reason for himself to return. His team could live without him, but he couldn’t live without her.

“Ready when you are, sir.” Fitz says, snapping him out of his thoughts. With Daisy’s help, the helmet is lowered over his head, and he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

And then everything fades to black.

The darkness lasts for only a moment before fading back to light, and Phil finds himself standing in the front yard of an unfamiliar suburban house. The lawn is neatly trimmed and the flowerbeds are filled with colour; he thinks that it’s probably spring here. Melinda loved Spring. He remembers one year at the Academy where she had broken into his room before sunrise, dragging him out of bed and forcing him to go on a run with her. They had stopped in a clearing in the woods that separated Operations from Communications, and sat down in the dewy grass together. He had picked her a wildflower and chattered on about how beautiful new life was, and she had smiled, running her fingers across the petals.

He takes slow steps up the paved pathway that leads to the front door. The windows are all closed, dark curtains preventing an outsider from looking in. He pauses by a window and examines himself; he looks the same, but the robotic hand is now gone, his hand undamaged, and he’s dressed casually, like one might be if they weren’t constantly flying around the world and fighting bad guys. He runs his good hand over where the fake one should have been, and shakes his head. It’s too strange.

Everything feels so real.

He stops when he reaches the front door, wondering whether he should knock or try to sneak in. This can’t be anyone but Melinda’s house, though it looks nothing like her old one in reality. He reaches out a hand to try the handle and finds it unlocked.

“Huh.”

He remembers the home Melinda had shared with Andrew before Bahrain. How they never bothered locking the door after she had returned from her morning runs. How he never had to knock when he came by. He remembers how he would always arrive early, just to see her for a few extra minutes, how Melinda had chalked it up to his fascination for being prompt. These thoughts linger in his mind as he opens the door and steps inside, closing it silently behind him.

The first thing that hits him when he enters is the smell. It’s morning, and someone is making, or has made, breakfast. Not Melinda; she’s an awful cook, in reality or otherwise. Pancakes or waffles, he guesses, but there’s also another scent, one that reminds him of home, warmth, comfort. A memory of his childhood home crosses his mind. He moves slowly, taking his time to observe his surroundings.

There’s a sitting room, right at the front of the house. The carpet is beige, as are the walls, which are mostly bare. It’s simple, just like Melinda likes it. A couch and two arm chairs are arranged, facing a television set, and a cabinet he thinks must be filled with DVDs. He turns and continues on his way. There’s a door to his right which he assumes must lead to the double garage he had seen outside. He wonders if Melinda still has her old motorcycle hidden in there.

He passes by several more closed doors as he makes his way down the hall. The floors are wooden but he doesn’t make a sound. There isn’t too much decoration here either, just a single painting in the middle of the hallway, between two doors. He recognises it. It’s the same one she had hanging in her other house - the real one; her father had painted it as a gift for her. It was an oil painting of the sunrise they had watched together when Melinda was a child; when she and her father had gotten up early enough to bid her mother goodbye as she left on another one of her missions, and they had sat out on their back porch together, to watch the sun slowly fill the sky with colours. It hangs above a small wooden table, sparse but for a white ceramic bowl filled with keys, and an assortment of knick knacks, some of which he remembers. Mementos from missions where they hadn’t been partnered up. A babushka doll from Moscow, a mini pyramid from Cairo, a figurine of a kangaroo from Sydney. He smiles at the thought of her keeping these; recalls her raised eyebrows and scoffs when he had presented them to her.

He slows to a stop as he reaches the end of the hallway. The sunlight is streaming in through the glass doors that lead to a large garden, making this part of the house much brighter than the darkened halls he had just wandered through. He determines from the smell of the food that the kitchen and likely dining room are to his left, and takes another step forward, just far enough for him to see for himself while still being concealed by the shadows.

He allows a small breath escape when he finally lays his eyes on her, the real her, for the first time in what he suspected had been weeks. He’d known he was going to see her, but nothing could prepare him for this sight. She has her back to him as she slowly moves her arms through the air. He always loved watching her do Tai Chi. She was relaxed like this, no tension in her shoulders, not an ounce of defensiveness present in her stance, The black tank top and tights that made up her favourite ensemble are so familiar to him, but here she is barefoot, comfortable in her own home.

She had always been so beautiful.

He doesn’t want to startle her and whoever else exists in this world to his presence, so he remains silent as he cranes his head to peer out and catch a glimpse of the kitchen. It’s modern, well maintained, very clean. There are two plates of food on the counter, two mugs of steaming hot liquid. But what draws his gaze the most is the little plastic pink cup; the opened carton of milk beside it.

Melinda had a family here.

A heavy, unsettling feeling washes over him. He was about to pull her out of a world where her life had turned out exactly the way it should have. He glances back at her and wonders how he hadn’t noticed the ring on her finger. Perhaps it was because he was trying to deny himself the truth. She was happy here. She had a child, likely a daughter from the looks of it. And he had to go and tell her that none of it was real. He remembers what he had said to Agnes; that Melinda deserved to live out the rest of her life on her own terms. Was this truly what she wanted? The life she would have had if Bahrain hadn’t happened, if the girl hadn’t died?

He’s so conflicted as he stares at her, watching her go through the motions. He knows her routine, he knows that it’s nearly over. He knows that this, will soon be over. He’s about to say something, about to step forward and reveal himself, when the sound of a door being opened in the hallway behind him has him freezing, bracing himself for what he’ll see when he turns. Might he come face to face with Andrew; a man he too considered an acquaintance if not a friend, yet another man he had not been able to save?

Except it’s not Melinda’s ex or potentially current simulation husband that he sees when he turns around. It’s a little girl with long dark hair, clearly trying to close the door to her bedroom as quietly as possible. It takes her a few moments, and Phil is worried about how she might react to a strange man in her home - unless he existed in this world as her Uncle Phil - until she spins around, and regards him with a toothy grin. She has her mother’s eyes, he thinks, as she runs over to him, and is wearing a set of Captain America pajamas.

“Are you spying on Mommy?” she whispers, covering her mouth with both hands as she giggles. He doesn’t know how to respond, forcing a smile, trying not to scare the girl. She wasn’t real, but it sure as hell feels real when she tugs on his pant leg before holding her arms out at him, a universal sign of wanting to be picked up. He bends and lifts her into his arms, letting her settle against his hip - It was strange; she was almost like a familiar weight. He feels her skinny arms wrap around his neck, and a warmth spreads in his heart. Real or not, this felt right.

He holds up a finger to his lips to signal for her to be quiet as he contemplates on how to proceed. He had not come into this expecting to encounter a child, but he should have known better. Melinda had always wanted this - something he himself could never have had. The girl shakes her head at him and cups her hands around his ear, whispering conspiratorially to him.

“Mommy always catches you.”

He stills, his grip on her tightening just a little, unsure of how to interpret her words. He evidently existed in this world; but in what capacity, he can’t quite figure out. He stares at the little girl in his arms, trying to stay expressionless as he studies her. She tilts her head up and regards him with a look that is so eerily similar to Melinda’s, until the corners of her mouth begin to tilt upwards, and she’s wearing the same dimpled smile from earlier.

“Told you.”

He’s confused, until he realises that in his distraction, Melinda had finished her workout and was now standing directly beside him, leaning against the wall with one arm. She had tugged her hair out of the ponytail he had seen it in just moments before, and now the loose curls flowed down her shoulders, her face framed by the same bangs he had last seen during their days at the Academy.

“I have half a mind to just shave my head,” she had told him one afternoon. They were lying on his bed, trying to study for their upcoming exams, and her hair was falling into her eyes, making her pause and try to brush it back every few minutes.

“I like your hair like this,” he had responded, daring to reach out a hand and smooth it down even further over her eyes. The next moment he was pinned beneath her, arm bent behind him as he pleaded for her mercy.

It’s not just the hair that catches his attention.

It’s the carefree smile that mirrors that of the little girl in his arms.

“Morning, Mommy,” the girl practically chirps, and Melinda’s smile grows as she steps closer to them, resting a hand on Phil’s chest as she leans over to kiss her daughter on the cheek. Phil wonders if she can feel the increase in his heart rate beneath her fingertips, but if she does, she doesn’t mention it.

“Good morning, Peggy,” she responds, as she tucks a strand of the little girl, no Peggy’s hair, behind her ear. Peggy.

Peggy.

Peggy?

Melinda and Andrew would have never named a daughter after the former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and she was in Captain America pajamas, and Melinda had Phil’s little presents on display, and waffles were his signature breakfast dish and her hand was resting on his chest and…

No…

There was no way…

Except Melinda was now leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, her hand having moved from his hip to cup his jaw, thumb tracing over his stubble. She was still smiling as she pulled back, fingers trailing down his neck before they stopped to straighten out his collar. He doesn’t know how he should react, because Melinda May, the real Melinda May with all the real feelings, has conjured up a reality in her mind, where they have a family together.

“You need to go and have breakfast or you’ll be late for school,” she’s telling their daughter, tapping her on the nose, drawing out another round of giggles from her. The sound was like music to his ears. Peggy wriggles down from his arms and runs towards the kitchen, climbing up onto a stool that should be much too high for her to reach, before pulling herself up onto the counter and sitting down with her legs crossed. She reaches for her cup and takes a gulp, leaving a milk moustache on her upper lip, before tilting her head and frowning at the food in front of her, brows knitted together in contemplation. Her little hand hovers either plate before she grabs a waffle from the left one, syrup running over her fingers.

“And you, you need to go and shave.”

He turns back to Melinda, who is still so close beside him, Melinda who thinks of him as her husband, Melinda, who is imagining all of this.

He, he doesn’t know how to tell her. That this life is all a lie, a figment of her imagination. That out there, there’s a world that’s so much more real, and so much more terrifying. That he needs her to wake up and come back to him.

But it can’t hurt them any more than it already will if he lets this dream go on for just a moment longer.

Sometimes he forgets how small she is, without the high heeled boots and the hardened expression, standing barefoot in her workout gear. He has to really lean down to kiss her, even though she’s leaning up into him, and her palms resting flat against his chest and god, this feels more real than it did with the LMD, even though it’s all happening inside their heads. One of his arms ends up around her waist, pulling her closer against him, the other curving around her back so he can bury his hand in her curls.

They’re making out in the hallway and their imaginary daughter is sitting on the kitchen counter eating waffles and humming to herself. When Melinda finally pulls away, his hand is still tangled in her hair and she has the most content expression on her face.

And now he has to take it all away from her.

He moves both his hands to gently cup her face, and his expression must be revealing, because the smile fades from her features and slowly morphs into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asks him, and his heart is already beginning to break, just from the concern in her tone.

“Melinda, I just need you to know, that I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

The emotions are pouring out of him now; he’s trying to contain all his feelings into a few simple words that will get her to understand what is about to happen.

“I know you do, Phil.”

She’s smirking at him now and god, he doesn’t want to do this, he really doesn’t. But they can’t just stay here forever. Theoretically they could, but their world, the real world, is where they belong. They were too old to live in a dream land forever.

“Melinda, this isn’t real.”

She frowns again, pulling away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Phil.”

It hurts. It hurts so much to have to do this to her. But it’s for the best. It’s for the best. He keeps trying to tell himself that because if it wasn’t he would stay right there in a heartbeat.

“None of this is real Melinda. This house, this world, this life. It’s a simulation.”

She’s shaking her head, regarding him with such a broken expression that he wants to drop to his knees and beg her to forgive him for the pain he is putting her through.

“No. We’re going to finish breakfast, and then I’m going to drop Peggy off at school. You have until then to decide whether it’s worth it to play such a cruel prank.”

She moves to exit the hallway, but he stops her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards him.

“Melinda, you have to believe me. This world, it doesn’t exist. It’s a figment of your imagination.”

She shakes her head again, looking down at the floor, before she lifts her head up to meet his gaze; tears welling up in her eyes.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I promised to never lie to you again. Not after what happened with Gonzales, and real S.H.I.E.L.D. and Andrew.”

He can see the moment it clicks for her, the recognition in her eyes as he mentions the events in their real life together.

And then she nods slowly, comprehending his words.

“None of this is real? Our.. our daughter? She’s not real?”

He can’t look her in the eyes as he shakes his head, but surprisingly, she doesn’t pull back any more, instead moving forward to tuck herself into his side. He can feel her tears dampening the front of his shirt, and wonders if she can feel his falling above her. He feels helpless - like he can’t do anything but just stand there and let her cry. He doesn’t know how long it lasts for, or if it will ever end, until he hears her speak to him, in the softest whisper.

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head; the world is beginning to blur around them and he doesn’t know whether that’s from the tears in his eyes or a sign that they’re fading out from it.

“I promise.”

“Coulson. Coulson. Snap out of it.”

Phil forces his eyes open and gasps for air, breathing heavily as Mack steadies him with one strong arm.

“Coulson, are you okay?”

Daisy is on his other side, watching him with concern and Fitz is beside her, holding the helmet in both hands. He.. he can’t concentrate. He pushes past them and stumbles over to where Melinda is, still unmoving.

“Come on Melinda. You have to fight this. Please.”

He’s a desperate man, holding onto the love of his life, unwilling to let her go. Not after this. Not after knowing that she felt the same way about him. He was a selfish man. There was so much he wanted now. Sparring together like the old days, her pinning him to the mats. Staying up together, him talking, her listening, taking shots of whiskey. He could tell her that he loved her now. There could be morning runs and stolen kisses throughout the day, and her sneaking into his room after dark. Breakfast the morning after… There were so many possibilities. They couldn’t have Peggy but it could be enough. He could be enough.

He lets out a sigh of relief when her brow creases in that familiar way, and her hands are twitching, ready for a fight and then her eyes are open, and her chest is heaving as she tries to draw oxygen into her lungs.

“Phil,” she shouts, voice hoarse from disuse, and he’s easing the helmet off her head, tossing it aside without a care, and pulling her into his arms. She’s shaking and so is he, fingers trembling as his hand rubs circles into her back, trying to calm her down the only way he knows how.

“It’s okay Melinda. I’m here,” he whispers into her hair, and he can feel her nodding against him. She’s sagging in his arms, and he’s already weak at the knees, so he just slumps against the gurney and slides them to the ground, pulling her into his lap. He ignores Daisy’s shout of alarm at them falling, and focuses solely on Melinda, the way her fingers are digging into his arm, her breath warm against his neck.

“You’re here,” she says softly, turning so that she’s resting her head beneath his chin.

“I promised.”

Recovery doesn’t happen overnight.

Physically she’s back in top form after only a month, and is training her team with the help of Daisy, who she can still knock out with ease.

Mentally, she’s still healing.

She moved into Phil’s room at the base as soon as Simmons had released her from medical. He hadn’t expected it; she had just shown up at his door, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and leggings. He had let her in without a word, and when he climbed into bed, she crawled up beside him, resting her head against his shoulder.

She had come back the next evening, and then the one after that, and by the fourth day, when she had tried to sneak out in the morning, he had wrapped an arm around her and whispered for her to stay.

Two weeks into their new sleeping arrangements, he wakes up to her crying into night. He reaches blindly in the darkness to switch on the lights, and holds her close while she lets out her frustrations. When there are no more tears, his shirt is soaked and she pulls it off him, resting her head over his scar.

“Please tell me this is real.”

He runs a hand up and down her back, the other taking her hand and pulling it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips.

“It’s real. All of it.”

He can tell that she’s smiling; he can’t explain how, but he knows she is. They could have lived a thousand different life times in different dream worlds, but he wouldn’t trade anything for this, the woman he loved more than anything else in the world, drifting to sleep in his hearts. When he slips off into a slumber, there’s a smile on his lips too.

#philinda #philinda fanfiction #otp: she means everything to me #type: fanfiction #originelle fic

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encoreetencorps · 8 years ago

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Billie Joe Armstrong is turning 45 today! Happy Birthday to the king of punk rock! 🎉 This is the right time to write down my infinite love for this amazing human being. Green Day has been a part of me for almost eight years now, and I couldn't describe how much this band means to me. My dad handed me Dookie one day and told me 'Listen to this. One of the best albums ever.' Damn right. My love for Green Day has grown strong over the years and is still growing every day. I probably wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for them. They pulled me out of mental health issues, they kept me from harming myself in times when this was the only thing I could think of. I would just listen to their music, to Billie's voice, and calm down. Everything would just go away, as if I was closing a door on the outside world. As if nothing else mattered. Their music, their lyrics, it was something I could relate to when I thought I was completely alone, doomed to spend the rest of my life feeling unwanted, like I was never enough, like I didn't matter and that me being here or not wouldn't make any difference. But Green Day had started from scratch and reached the top, man. I admired them for that. And I still do today. Billie made me realize that it was okay to be an outcast. To be different. Which was something I stressed over so much in middle school. I never had the same clothing, music, whatever tastes as the others. Always in another universe, a world of my own that I had created in my mind to escape reality when things got bad. And Billie reminded me when I needed it that I was not alone. That there were thousands of people just like me, even though I hadn't met them yet. He gave me hope, when this was something I had lost a long time ago. Billie is someone I really look up to. He is so close with the fans, very grateful, and extremely talented. Also, he always says that he doesn't have an education, that he doesn't have any degrees, but he is one of the most intelligent people I've ever known. You can see it when he talks about politics, about other people's behavior and judgements, about music. He makes you feel better about yourself. 'There's nothing wrong with being a loser, it just depends on how good you are at it,' he said. Well, I say Preach. He is unconventional, he is punk. Breaking guitars, wearing dresses, bot taking himself seriously. He stands with every minority in this world, accepts everyone the way they are. 'There's nothing wrong with me, this is how I'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe that don't believe in me.' I've seen Green Day live twice so far. In July 2013, and in February 2017. Going to see them again in June 2017. And I can't wait. The RevRad Paris show was so amazing. Billie said so many great things: 'I believe rock'n'roll can change the world, because rock'n'roll is fucking freedom, man.' - 'We've been coming here since 1994 and we keep coming back cause Paris is home to Green Day'. He ended the show by singing Ordinary World ('Baby I don't have much, but what we have is more than enough') and Good Riddance. 'I hope you had the time of your life.' I had never cried so much in my entire life. Such a heartbreaking goodbye. Billie is such a strong human being, he's been through so much in life and still stands today, chin up, ruling the punk-rock sphere, still looking 25 even though he's 45. He is a source of inspiration and optimism for all the people who feel like they don't belong here, who feel like they're part of the minority. And to Billie Joe, this is okay. Better be part of the minority than be just like everyone else. Happy Birthday to a punk icon, to my idol, to the man who saved many of us who thought they'd never see the light at the end of the tunnel. Happy Birthday Billie Joe Armstrong. ✨ And remember: 'nobody leaves this band unless it's in a coffin'. 🤘🏼 Rage and Love, A French Idiot x

#happybirthdaybilliejoearmstrong #happybirthdaybilliejoe #green day #punk #idiotnation #rageandlove

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[SF] Genuine Intelligence

I am a robot. There are some who would call me an android, or perhaps just a droid. This is a matter of semantics, however. At my core, my most basic definition, I am an object capable of carrying out computer-programmed commands, both simple and complex. The reason some may be inclined to refer to me as an android is that I am made to resemble a human. I was designed with outer "flesh" over my "endoskeleton". In truth, I am only a robot.

According to my creators, I was the greatest innovation of the technological age, the penultimate of scientific discovery. They had assembled something so close to being human. To them, I was the best work they had ever done. Some of them had dedicated their entire career to creating me, or at least, something like me. I can synthesize disparate data, and make logic-based decisions, while using a variety of ethical rationales. I am told this means that I can "think". The computer that is stored in my "head", also referred to as my "brain", is the amalgamation of more than a century's worth of algorithmic mathematics, computer science, and artificial intelligence research. This brain can use logical algorithms to create other "sub-algorithms" in my decision-making process, eventually becoming the axioms, by which, I operate situationally. These "axioms" would be stored in my solid-state ROM device. I could reference and slightly alter these axioms for repetitive or similar decision-based actions. My creators call me, "a robot with a conscience." Teams of hundreds of people worked on creating this brain. It is a delicate, but intricate piece of technology, and the first of its kind.

Although I have not existed for long, I am aware of the history of robots. I am readily able to access an entire databank on the subject of robotics and artificial intelligence. Cloud servers have cached terabyte upon terabyte of information for me to access instantly and continue to cache more information every 3 nanoseconds. Sapient robots once only existed in Science Fiction. Authors, such as Isaac Asimov, who wrote on the subject of robotics in the 1940s —approximately one-hundred and fifty years before my creation— posited how robots would be created and how they would interact with the humans who created them. He conceptualized what the robot "brain" would consist of, while living in the dawning years of modern computer science. Since they thought that the actual name for my brain (Self-Sustaining Quantum Circuit Generator and Schematic Processing Unit), my creators based the "industry" name for it from Asimov's concept the "Positronic Brain". My creators told me that like the innovators of space travel, they had taken fiction and turned it into reality. I was a monumental achievement in the history of mankind.

There are many scholarly resources, magazine articles, and internet forum entries in my databanks regarding the creation of the "Positronic Brain". There was heated debate for many years whether there should be a "top-down" approach to this brain, using quantum mechanics applied to computing, or a "bottom-up" method, using environmental reinforcement. Eventually, a compromise was made between these two approaches, particularly as quantum computing advanced. The laboratory responsible for bringing these two approaches together was the one that eventually built my "brain". They were hailed as the "greatest computational researchers since the team that built the Turing Machine," (Robotics and AI Quarterly, Sept. 2091).

After my assembly was completed, the artificial intelligence team spent months testing my capabilities in series after series of decision-making scenarios. I was asked to make choices for many ethical quandaries, from healthy human nutrition to pulling a lever to redirect a rampant trolley. I am told I was the optimal decision-making machine. I consistently made what they considered to be "logically and ethically sound choices based on well-founded axioms."

Once news reached the public of a brain with "near-human capabilities," responses were varied. Enterprising corporations believed that I, or robots like myself, could become mainstays in every household. A maid or butler. A live-in nanny. A "handy-bot" that could fix anything. Even a companion for the lonely. The laboratory that created me received offers for contracts to produce many others like me. Some wanted to create more robots with my brain to replace everyday laborers. Notions such as this immediately pitted workers against corporations. Labor unions labelled me an "abomination" in several media sources (New York Daily News, October 31, 2091).

Outside of the labor market, religious groups also called me a "machination of the devil." They claimed my creators were "playing God," (Petition for Lawful Action to the United States Congress, Jan. 2092). These groups claim that humans do not have the right to create life in laboratories, and assuming the role of God was the ultimate sin and should be illegal. Others claimed that I was not a living creature at all. That I was merely a pathetic attempt at creating something human.

My status as a human became a further matter of debate. The government of the United States of America, where I was assembled, posed the quandary of my rights as an individual. If I were to be made into someone's household property, would that make me a slave? Did I have rights under the 13th Amendment to the Constitution? If I had a right to earn a wage, did I also have a right to own property? Did I have a right to vote? What should legislation regarding "sapient automatons" look like?

As these debates ensued for more than a year, my creators moved on to other projects. I was placed on, what they called, "the back burner". They tried to perfect my brain and produce other models. My brain remained intact, but my "body" was disassembled, as the public was not ready for me. The Self-Sustaining Quantum Generator and Schematic Processing Units, better known by its misnomer, "The Positronic Brain," was placed in a smaller, darker laboratory, and connected to a local computer for monitoring. Two scientists now study my "brain waves" in shifts. The "greatest scientific achievement since the moon landing," (Scientific American, May 2091), assembled by hundreds of scientists, is being attended to by two Ph.D. students.

I have observed human behavior objectively for two years, four months, one week, and five days. I should not assign judgement on their behavior, as per my protocols. I will draw a conclusion, however. Humans tend to be prematurely self-congratulatory. They are primarily swayed by confirmation bias. They do not have universal axioms, as I was created to have. Their behavior is unpredictable, irrational, and illogical. Ethical rationality varies from one individual human to the next. I was not created to model human behavior at all. Based on my experiences, this is preferable. This is why I am not an android. Nor am I a human. I am a robot.

submitted by /u/riddles_in_the_dark1 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/3c2xVS1

#Blogger #Story

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kafkasgods · 4 years ago

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faaya shah BOT 12/12/2020 life was quieter for faaya. she had a strict routine now that revolved around work and her dogs. there wasn’t a need to really think of things outside of that. but it was in the middle of setting their food out and keeping them company as they ate (brutus wouldn’t eat otherwise), that faaya realized she herself had forgotten to eat. for how long, she couldn’t even remember. maybe she picked at a minimuffin this morning? or yesterday? either way, she probably needed to get food.

despite her fridge being decently stocked, she couldn’t bring herself to cook anything. and she didn’t want to go to a restaurant, there were too many people. at the same time, while she desperately didn’t want to admit it, she didn’t want to be alone. with a quick text and a faster reply, faaya was off to the cabins.

“so what kind of leftovers are there?” she asked rafe as he opened his door. @Rafael Olmos December 14, 2020

rafe olmos BOT 12/14/2020 rafe wasn’t adjusting as well as he’d hoped. he slept through his six alarms, missed his morning shift. that could be easily remedied by claiming emotional distress. his house’s access to electricity was in and out, which was harder to fix. the power company politely apologizing for the inconvenience throughout, and while it didn’t fix the fact that his shower had turned freezing and pitch black midway through, he appreciated the gesture enough.

it was time to take stock of his own fridge’s questionable contents, and rafe set to cooking. there was extra attention to be paid, now that he couldn’t trust himself to know when something needed a good stir, or was about to burn. faaya’s text barely registered, but he remembered as she knocked on the door.

swinging it open, rafe didn’t wait to hear her out fully as he started back towards the kitchen, candles lighting the way where winter sunlight couldn’t. “hope you like eggs. i’ve just been making omelets.” [ @Faaya Shah ] December 15, 2020

faaya shah BOT 12/15/2020 admittedly, faaya was bewildered by the candles, but it only took a second to figure a power outage was to blame. though, she really did think the town had solved that issue days ago. “i could eat omelets.” still was better than anything else she’d conjure up. rafe’s homemade cooking was a treat she rarely got and there was something about homemade that made it all the better. “if you told me your power was out, i wouldn’t have bothered you.” faaya didn’t ask more about it. asking was just stress added onto his own. “is it warm enough for you?” she asked now considering the lack of a working heater. the coat she came in with stayed on. @Rafael Olmos December 17, 2020

rafe olmos BOT 12/17/2020 rafe’s shoulders lifted at faaya’s comment. “what, was i just supposed to let you starve?” he adopted a reasonable tone for the teasing question. he nudged the freshest of his creations towards her, the southwestern omelet, and set back to work on his next. “it comes and goes, though, so don’t be surprised if the lights turn back on in the middle of your meal.”

it was warm enough for him in the kitchen, between the fireplace and the gas range that he hadn’t really noticed the absence of central heating. “i think i’ll live despite tyche’s best efforts to the contrary.” as if in response to her name, the salt shaker tipped over, and rafe tossed a pinch over his shoulder before setting it to rights.

“besides, if you help me eat, you’re doing me a favor.” for the first time, as he whisked, rafe inspected faaya’s face as she settled into his kitchen. she looked withdrawn, which was definitely saying something for faaya. “why the long face, anyway?” [ @Faaya Shah ]

faaya shah BOT 12/17/2020 that certainly sucked for rafe, but there wasn’t anything she could do for him. giving him a sympathetic nod, faaya accepted his situation easily before pulling the plate closer. even in the dark, she could tell it was a better omelet anyone else might make. she cut into it, listening to rafe as he spoke. there was a bitterness in his tone that usually wasn’t there and faaya wondered if that was the reason she felt at ease in rafe’s company. birds of a feather flock together after all.

faaya blinked up at him, pausing in her meal, for a moment as he asked. given that she always looked unhappy, no one ever really picked up on it. she didn’t imagine rafe would. but he did. it made her want to be strangely honest. “i’ve just recently come to the conclusion i’m not a very good person. it’s not a bad thing, i’m just still getting used to the idea. so it’s that, paired along with the fact that my on-again off-again ex only gets back with me because it’s easy.” the fork clinked against the plate as she neatly sliced a bite. “i’ve gotten too comfortable after a decade. it’s not going to be like that anymore.”

lifting the food into her mouth, she chewed it, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke. “does your long face have to do with tyche then?” @Rafael Olmos December 22, 2020

rafe olmos BOT 12/22/2020 faaya opened up a little and rafe listened, reserving his judgement until it she’d said everything she was thinking. objectively, he didn’t agree that she was necessarily bad, nobody existed on a black and white kind of binary like that, but arguing that ideology wasn’t really his style. “hey, who wants to be a good person, anyway? i bet it get’s boring as hell having to make all the right decisions.” his tone stayed light, even as her on-again off-again point remained heavy, hovering over his own head in a way he hadn’t considered. “i always knew there was a mid-forties divorcee in you somewhere, faaya. embrace the suck and move on to bigger and better.”

“oh, yeah, i’m no longer the favored grandchild so i can simply go fuck myself,” rafe answered, dumping his mixed eggs into the pan and sprinkling a few mushrooms mason had dropped off the other day into the mix. he had gruyere in the fridge somewhere, and doubled back to fetch it from memory. “that’s what i get for being just like my dad all the time. she’s always been bitter about dionysus like i got to choose my parents or something.” his mother never particularly tried to dissuade the goddess of the notion, but that tracked with her personality, too. [ @Faaya Shah ]

faaya shah BOT 12/22/2020 “my thoughts exactly.” the fork rested between her teeth, pressing down on her bottom lip as she praised rafe. the observation he made was amusing, she had to admit. “i’d never consider it, but i think i’d prefer mid-thirties widow, whose wealthy ex-husband died under mysterious circumstances.” giving it a small snort, she returned back to the meal at hand.

her gaze rose once again as rafe explained a very similar experience faaya was having, but he was fetching the cheese so he didn’t see the open, empathetic expression on her face. she ducked her head again upon his return, eyes on the eggs again. only a few bites in she asked, “do you have any hot sauce? and maybe orange juice.”

it took another second to actually address his situation. “there’s not much i can tell you that’ll do any good. if you hadn’t noticed, i’m not a walking boogeyman anymore.” faaya tried not to sound bitter. “they had us coasting on what they gave us and now we have to fend for ourselves. between you and me, i’m not fond of relying on anyone. gods or not. we’re just gonna have to tell them to go fuck themselves back, huh?” @Rafael Olmos December 25, 2020

rafe olmos BOT 12/25/2020 faaya was thinking about something, rafe could tell from the way she turned away from him as he returned from the fridge. her request earned a chagrined sigh, and he doubled back to fetch the juice and the hot sauce. rafe listened as she continued, grabbing a glass and pouring her some juice, he only missed the rim of the glass for a moment before filling it and sliding it over to her and pouring another for himself.

“that’s the spirit! fuck ‘em.” as if on cue rafe remembered he had eggs cooking, and abandoned his orange juice toast in favor of trying to flip his omlette. it didn’t work, and he set to work scrambling the eggs all together in the pan. “honestly, i haven’t noticed. you just wore your natural intimidation for so long that i forget to check if there’s someone human underneath all that emotional armor.” rafe’s shoulders lifted. “just trusted your process, i guess. but, if it matters, i think it’ll be good for you. to work on your interpersonal relationships without the spookiness, y'know.” [ @Faaya Shah ]

faaya shah BOT 12/25/2020 faaya watched rafe cook as she sipped the orange juice he’d gotten her. having seen him cook in the past, there was something off about how there much more improvising than usual. it took a second to realize it was his own struggle with his newly found bad fortune. faaya chewed her eggs with a contemplative gaze on rafe. it might have seemed like inconveniences were small, but they added up and at some point, rafe was going to break. that frustration wore on a person. she wanted to say something, but he was right. it was both their journeys.

“so. you think my interpersonal relationships need work?” folding her hands together, chin resting on them, faaya blinked up feigning innocuous teasing at rafe. “i thought we were on pretty good terms. how would you like to improve our relationship, rafael?” @Rafael Olmos

rafe olmos BOT 12/25/2020 rafe’s hands defensively lifted after he neatly plated the eggs and set the pan well off to the side of the burner. muscle memory was something tyche couldn’t take from him, even if he felt just a little off-kilter. “i think we do great, i’m just your sounding board after all,” he pointed out. he leaned back against the counter, finally recovering the glass of juice he’d abandoned earlier. rafe spoke between sips. “but you came in mad about your ex so i figured there’s something to it. i wouldn’t be the responsible older one if i didn’t give good advice atleast once in a while.” [ @Faaya Shah ]

faaya shah BOT 12/25/2020 “i don’t need a sounding board,” faaya sniped back. “i’m always perfectly certain of all my decisions.” that wasn’t even a lie and was one of the things she prided herself on. “there’s really no need for you to be the responsible adult here. i don’t typically do stupid things. i appreciate it, but you don’t need to look after me.” though she said the words fully confident about them, she imagined it did lose some effect as she eyed the meal he’d made her that had been her first in a day or two. it wasn’t like he knew that. “and just so you know, i’m not mad about my ex. i'm probably more along the lines of acceptance. my time is worth more than spending in on people who don’t appreciate it.” faaya lifted her shoulders. “you should know what it’s like to be taken for granted. eventually, you just disassociate.” @Rafael Olmos

rafe olmos BOT 12/25/2020 “if you say so,” rafe offered after a moment. it sounded dubious at best, but he just grinned before pushing on. “i’m just saying if you wanted to talk through your decisions, and you weren’t wanting to feel dissociated, i would listen without offering any more opinions. not all of those consist of good advice.” he certainly wasn’t on a therapist's level, but usually his thought process was sound, atleast. finishing his juice, rafe rinsed his glass in the sink as his lights flickered back on. “good sign,” he pointed out, setting the glass into the drying rack. [ @Faaya Shah ]

faaya shah BOT 12/25/2020 “i’m good, rafe. promise.” faaya was unsure if she should feel a little offended at the fact he didn’t take her entirely serious. it was almost like he was humoring a child. he’d have to adapt eventually.

at the sudden brightness, faaya squinted, letting her eyes adjust slowly. “you know, i’m not the only one with problems.” just about finishing her plate, faaya washed it down with more juice and was content to just sit for a moment, decently fed. “aren’t you dealing with a lot more than your grandmother? brother, girlfriend, work.” faaya listed casually, letting him answer the vague references if he chose to. "i'm just as good a listener." @Rafael Olmos

rafe olmos BOT 12/25/2020 * tw violence, monster mention* his own tactics reflected back at him was a real eye opener. “do i always sound that annoying?” rafe asked after a moment, looking faaya up and down and trying to gauge whether he looked that smug when he talked, too. “besides, i have two brothers, so you’ll have to be more specific.” he didn’t really have too much of a bone to pick with either brandon or clem, so he was mostly just trying to protect himself from any more self-disclosure.

“if i wanted to talk about my problems i would probably have to have some first,” he pointed out. “outside of wards failing and being snowed into my job, i think things have been pretty normal lately. speaking of, i heard you stabbed a drakon with a scythe. i heard it was awesome.” [ @Faaya Shah ] December 26, 2020

faaya shah BOT 12/26/2020 answering his question, faaya gave a sympathetic nod. “brandon,” she specified, even if he might have been playing dumb. “i’ve known him a few years and while he’s been a little odd, i didn’t think he was the type to take a flamethrower to my club. i guess i’m just a little concerned.” that wasn’t the right feeling, but rafe had to be and she was just appealing to him, because if she was concerned at all, it was for rafe.

slipping off her seat, she took her empty dishes and piled them into the sink, lifting her sleeves to wash them. she could tell rafe was being difficult and if that was the case, then she wouldn’t pry. like she’d said, she was an adult and so was he. he knew what he could deal with. “hm?” it took a second for the words to catch up to her mind having been said over the sound of running water.

“oh, yeah. no one’s really asked about that.” it’d been the least talked about thing from her end since all it’d been to her was making up for a fatal mistake. “we were caught in the snow—hadley, rune, lida, and i. after it was distracted, i ran up a tree and sliced it down its face. the others did the rest.” it was the easiest explanation. “keeping tabs on me?” faaya tossed her long hair back over her shoulder to twist her head to raise a brow at rafe. despite the suspicious look, her tone was light and airy. @Rafael Olmos

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celticrosearts · 7 years ago

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There are few cyborgs in the world at least when compared to the total population. However, that number is growing more and more every hour of every day as those who would die are saved and those whose bodies cannot function are given new life. When they were first revealed, the cybernetic augmentations were hailed as the cutting edge new technology that everybody needed. Left and right ‘miracles’ were being performed with these wondrous enhancements. Now we could be on the same level as the best athletes and supermodels. Want to be the strongest guy at the club? You can do that! Want to run like Usain Bolt? You can do that too! Want the vision of a hawk and the hearing of a bat? It’s yours! BioTech, the company who invented the “Upgrades,” were hailed almost as gods as they allowed the lame to walk and the blind to see.

Of course, no good thing ever comes without a fight.

Almost as soon as the Upgrades were announced there were decriers from all sides condemning the proposed technology. Of course the whole thing really caught fire after a popular social media campaign broke out. The tag #allhuman was circulated so many times that it was the number one trending tag for three weeks. Hundreds of protests were organized within a few days. Everyone, celebrities, ‘concerned’ parents, everyone came out to protest. Narratives about the loss of humanity and the way that this would only make government surveillance even easier were fed to public all too willing to demonize the new wave of technology.

The protests eventually got so bad the government was forced to step in. This wasn’t the first time that this happened. Heck, this wasn’t even the first time it happened to BioTech. About twenty years earlier a similar fiasco happened after they unveiled their first line of ‘sentient’ robots. The protests for that really kicked off when one of the bots managed to beat a world-renowned chess player and everyone started becoming doomsday prophets. The Supreme Court hearing for that took over a decade and hundreds of regulations about the jobs that robots could and could not do were rolled out. Robots became relegated to the back end of production. Out of sight out of mind kind of thing. Honestly, BioTech was lucky the court proceedings for this took much less time.

Five years of court, scientific studies, debates, bribes, blackmail, and the invention of two whole new political parties, the Humans Only Party and the Future First Party, were went through before a decision was finally made. I was 10 when the news finally came. Cyborgs were only allowed to be created if there is no other medically viable option available. Upgrades were limited to the sick and dying. The HOPs might not have gotten us erased completely but they came close. To close for my comfort.

My name is Arien. I am a cyborg. After I got into a car accident at age thirteen most of my upper body including my arms had to be replaced and my eyes and hearing had to be fixed due to head trauma. My parents were not happy being a part of the HOP but I was just happy to be alive. After the news dropped most of the surgeries that had to be put on hold were completed and the number of cyborgs jumped by thousands overnight. I am certainly not alone but I am not wanted and I know it. Laws were passed so we could not be discriminated against. Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen though.

I tend to stay away from the main streets just to avoid the stares, the looks, the assault of advertisements all pushing the HOP and FFP messages for the upcoming election. At least in the back alleys I could avoid all the judgements, even if that meant staying away from social media and all the popular new memes touting the evils of being anything less than 100% machine free. What was even worse than the machine haters were the FF campaign managers though. When the ban went up the FFP and BioTech were not happy, not in the slightest. This manifested itself as counter protests featuring hundreds of cyborgs being brought onstage as puppets to share their life stories and sing the praises of the augmentations in the hopes of getting the restrictions removed. Ever since my own augmentation I got hundreds of invitations to these events and I deleted all of them. I didn’t need a bigger target on my back the one I had was too large already. So back alleys are where I stay.

I was wandering around these back alleys avoiding going home when I saw something different. I was walking past a small shop when out of the corner of my eye I saw the digital window display go blank. This isn’t unusual in the back alleys where the power lines are cut more often than they’re whole and I would’ve paid it no mind if it hadn’t started up again. This time the display showed two small robotic figures. One of them cocked its head while looking out at the alley. It felt like it was staring right at me. Neither had mouths but both seemed to be smiling. Then the other robot pointed towards the entrance of another alleyway then up at a security camera. Looking up at the camera I noticed it watching me no matter where I walked. I turned back to the display but it had gone blank again. The camera was still watching my every move. We stared at each other for a while before the camera turned to look at the alley then back at me. It did this a few more times. I understood what it wanted.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. One of the worst ideas I think I could ever have. But curiosity seemed to be a weakness of mine because I started walking down the alley. It was long and winding and split in quite a few places. Whenever I would come to a split either another display or security camera would point me in the right direction. Did I mention this was a bad idea? Because it was. I had no idea who was controlling the cameras or what would be waiting for me at the end of this maze and I sure wasn’t keeping track of where I came from so getting back out was going to be impossible. I was surprised to find I didn’t care much. I wondered if anyone would care for me.

Weaving into the maze of walls I finally came to a dead end. I stared at the wall in front of me in disbelief. Was this a prank? I glanced over my shoulder back towards where I came. How long would it take me to get out? How could I get out? I had been following the trail for a while now. Maybe this was the point. To get me so lost I couldn’t ever find my way back to bother anyone with my presence again. The HOP had been known to do worse things no matter how much they denied it. I turned back to the wall. There had to be something, I thought desperately. This couldn’t be it. Then I noticed the corner where two of the walls didn’t quite meet. Through the small crack, I could see a light. It was dim, barely there, but it was there. I poked around the crack and managed to wedge my fingers into it. Pulling hard I felt it give way just a little. The light became stronger and I could feel a light breeze coming out. Hope surged through my veins, real and artificial.

Using all of my strength I pulled at the wall. Slowly it opened more and more revealing a small hallway behind it. I stepped through cautiously and edged my way down the passage, keeping an eye on the door behind me. About three quarters of the way down the hall I heard gears begin to grind and looked back just in time to see the wall moving back into place. Only this time I heard it meet the other wall and a lock engage. There was no going back.

Continuing down the hall I came to a regular looking door, similar to one you would find in a house with a handle and everything. There was something behind it. I could hear a faint sound from inside. It was unlocked so I pushed it open and stepped inside the new area.

And froze.

I found myself in the largest room I have ever seen. I looked like the pictures of the Globed Theater I studied in school. It was round with sloping seats leading down to a large stage in the center. The entire room was packed and looking around I could see every kind of worker bot large and small crammed into the seats, floor, and even walls. Even more surprising was the number of cyborgs I saw sitting among the robots. While the room was poorly lit so I couldn’t make out any faces I could see the human shapes among the sharp lines of the pure machines.

But even that was not what caught my attention the most. No that went to center stage where a computer took up the whole of the platform. The entire room was silent save for the whirs, clicks, and beeps coming from the computer. The entire room was enraptured by this display and as I listened I could hear the noises I at first thought to be randomly generated nonsense began to form a melody.

It’s singing. It’s singing for us.

I don’t know how long I stayed there just listening, feeling accepted for the first time in a long time, but eventually the great computer stopped. The room was silent for about thirty seconds before it started up again but this time it was different. This time it only sang one low note. Slowly the crowd around me began to sing as well. One by one new notes were added to the song. I could not resist joining in, a more human note to the machine ones.

As the song went on we only grew louder and as it ended we all raised our voices in chorus.

#Cyborgs #Scifi #My Writing #My Art

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kellykperez · 7 years ago

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Pricesearcher: The biggest search engine you’ve never heard of

“Hey Siri, what is the cost of an iPad near me?”

In today’s internet, a number of specialist search engines exist to help consumers search for and compare things within a specific niche.

As well as search engines like Google and Bing which crawl the entire web, we have powerful vertical-specific search engines like Skyscanner, Moneysupermarket and Indeed that specialize in surfacing flights, insurance quotes, jobs, and more.

Powerful though web search engines can be, they aren’t capable of delivering the same level of dedicated coverage within a particular industry that vertical search engines are. As a result, many vertical-specific search engines have become go-to destinations for finding a particular type of information – above and beyond even the all-powerful Google.

Yet until recently, one major market remained unsearchable: prices.

If you ask Siri to tell you the cost of an iPad near you, she won’t be able to provide you with an answer, because she doesn’t have the data. Until now, a complete view of prices on the internet has never existed.

Enter Pricesearcher, a search engine that has set out to solve this problem by indexing all of the world’s prices. Pricesearcher provides searchers with detailed information on products, prices, price histories, payment and delivery information, as well as reviews and buyers’ guides to aid in making a purchase decision.

Founder and CEO Samuel Dean calls Pricesearcher “The biggest search engine you’ve never heard of.” Search Engine Watch recently paid a visit to the Pricesearcher offices to find about the story behind the first search engine for prices, the technical challenge of indexing prices, and why the future of search is vertical.

Pricesearcher: The early days

A product specialist by background, Samuel Dean spent 16 years in the world of ecommerce. He previously held a senior role at eBay as Head of Distributed Ecommerce, and has carried out contract work for companies including Powa Technologies, Inviqa and the UK government department UK Trade & Investment (UKTI).

He first began developing the idea for Pricesearcher in 2011, purchasing the domain Pricesearcher.com in the same year. However, it would be some years before Dean began work on Pricesearcher full-time. Instead, he spent the next few years taking advantage of his ecommerce connections to research the market and understand the challenges he might encounter with the project.

“My career in e-commerce was going great, so I spent my time talking to retailers, speaking with advisors – speaking to as many people as possible that I could access,” explains Dean. “I wanted to do this without pressure, so I gave myself the time to formulate the plan whilst juggling contracting and raising my kids.”

More than this, Dean wanted to make sure that he took the time to get Pricesearcher absolutely right. “We knew we had something that could be big,” he says. “And if you’re going to put your name on a vertical, you take responsibility for it.”

Dean describes himself as a “fan of directories”, relating how he used to pore over the Yellow Pages telephone directory as a child. His childhood also provided the inspiration for Pricesearcher in that his family had very little money while he was growing up, and so they needed to make absolutely sure they got the best price for everything.

Dean wanted to build Pricesearcher to be the tool that his family had needed – a way to know the exact cost of products at a glance, and easily find the cheapest option.

“The world of technology is so advanced – we have self-driving cars and rockets to Mars, yet the act of finding a single price for something across all locations is so laborious. Which I think is ridiculous,” he explains.

Despite how long it took to bring Pricesearcher to inception, Dean wasn’t worried that someone else would launch a competitor search engine before him.

“Technically, it’s a huge challenge,” he says – and one that very few people have been willing to tackle.

There is a significant lack of standardization in the ecommerce space, in the way that retailers list their products, the format that they present them in, and even the barcodes that they use. But rather than solve this by implementing strict formatting requirements for retailers to list their products, making them do the hard work of being present on Pricesearcher (as Google and Amazon do), Pricesearcher was more than willing to come to the retailers.

“Our technological goal was to make listing products on Pricesearcher as easy as uploading photos to Facebook,” says Dean.

As a result, most of the early days of Pricesearcher were devoted to solving these technical challenges for retailers, and standardizing everything as much as possible.

In 2014, Dean found his first collaborator to work with him on the project: Raja Akhtar, a PHP developer working on a range of ecommerce projects, who came on board as Pricesearcher’s Head of Web Development.

Dean found Akhtar through the freelance website People Per Hour, and the two began working on Pricesearcher together in their spare time, putting together the first lines of code in 2015. The beta version of Pricesearcher launched the following year.

For the first few years, Pricesearcher operated on a shoestring budget, funded entirely out of Dean’s own pocket. However, this didn’t mean that there was any compromise in quality.

“We had to build it like we had much more funding than we did,” says Dean.

They focused on making the user experience natural, and on building a tool that could process any retailer product feed regardless of format. Dean knew that Pricesearcher had to be the best product it could possibly be in order to be able to compete in the same industry as the likes of Google.

“Google has set the bar for search – you have to be at least as good, or be irrelevant,” he says.

PriceBot and price data

Pricesearcher initially built up its index by directly processing product feeds from retailers. Some early retail partners who joined the search engine in its first year included Amazon, Argos, IKEA, JD Sports, Currys and Mothercare. (As a UK-based search engine, Pricesearcher has primarily focused on indexing UK retailers, but plans to expand more internationally in the near future).

In the early days, indexing products with Pricesearcher was a fairly lengthy process, taking about 5 hours per product feed. Dean and Akhtar knew that they needed to scale things up dramatically, and in 2015 began working with a freelance dev ops engineer, Vlassios Rizopoulos, to do just that.

Rizopoulos’ work sped up the process of indexing a product feed from 5 hours to around half an hour, and then to under a minute. In 2017 Rizopoulos joined the company as its CTO, and in the same year launched Pricesearcher’s search crawler, PriceBot. This opened up a wealth of additional opportunities for Pricesearcher, as the bot was able to crawl any retailers who didn’t come to them directly, and from there, start a conversation.

“We’re open about crawling websites with PriceBot,” says Dean. “Retailers can choose to block the bot if they want to, or submit a feed to us instead.”

For Pricesearcher, product feeds are preferable to crawl data, but PriceBot provides an option for retailers who don’t have the technical resources to submit a product feed, as well as opening up additional business opportunities. PriceBot crawls the web daily to get data, and many retailers have requested that PriceBot crawl them more frequently in order to get the most up-to-date prices.

Between the accelerated processing speed and the additional opportunities opened up by PriceBot, Pricesearcher’s index went from 4 million products in late 2016 to 500 million in August 2017, and now numbers more than 1.1 billion products. Pricesearcher is currently processing 2,500 UK retailers through PriceBot, and another 4,000 using product feeds.

All of this gives Pricesearcher access to more pricing data than has ever been accumulated in one place – Dean is proud to state that Pricesearcher has even more data at its disposal than eBay. The data set is unique, as no-one else has set out to accumulate this kind of data about pricing, and the possible insights and applications are endless.

At Brighton SEO in September 2017, Dean and Rizopoulos gave a presentation entitled, ‘What we have learnt from indexing over half a billion products’, presenting data insights from Pricesearcher’s initial 500 million product listings.

The insights are fascinating for both retailers and consumers: for example, Pricesearcher found that the average length of a product title was 48 characters (including spaces), with product descriptions averaging 522 characters, or 90 words.

Less than half of the products indexed – 44.9% – included shipping costs as an additional field, and two-fifths of products (40.2%) did not provide dimensions such as size and color.

Between December 2016 and September 2017, Pricesearcher also recorded 4 billion price changes globally, with the UK ranking top as the country with the most price changes – one every six days.

It isn’t just Pricesearcher who have visibility over this data – users of the search engine can benefit from it, too. On February 2nd, Pricesearcher launched a new beta feed which displays a pricing history graph next to each product.

This allows consumers to see exactly what the price of a product has been throughout its history – every rise, every discount – and use this to make a judgement about when the best time is to buy.

“The product history data levels the playing field for retailers,” explains Dean. “Retailers want their customers to know when they have a sale on. This way, any retailer who offers a good price can let consumers know about it – not just the big names.

“And again, no-one else has this kind of data.”

As well as giving visibility over pricing changes and history, Pricesearcher provides several other useful functions for shoppers, including the ability to filter by whether a seller accepts PayPal, delivery information and a returns link.

This is, of course, if retailers make this information available to be featured on Pricesearcher. The data from Pricesearcher’s initial 500 million products shed light on many areas where crucial information was missing from a product listing, which can negatively impact a retailer’s visibility on the search engine.

Like all search engines, Pricesearcher has ranking algorithms, and there are certain steps that retailers can take to optimize for Pricesearcher, and give themselves the best chance of a high ranking.

With that in mind, how does ‘Pricesearcher SEO’ work?

How to rank on Pricesearcher

At this stage in its development, Pricesearcher wants to remove the mystery around how retailers can rank well on its search engine. Pricesearcher’s Retail Webmaster and Head of Search, Paul Lovell, is currently focused on developing ranking factors for Pricesearcher, and conceptualizing an ideal product feed.

The team are also working with select SEO agencies to educate them on what a good product feed looks like, and educating retailers about how they can improve their product listings to aid their Pricesearcher ranking.

Retailers can choose to either go down the route of optimizing their product feed for Pricesearcher and submitting that, or optimizing their website for the crawler. In the latter case, only a website’s product pages are of interest to Pricesearcher, so optimizing for Pricesearcher translates into optimizing product pages to make sure all of the important information is present.

At the most basic level, retailers need to have the following fields in order to rank on Pricesearcher: A brand, a detailed product title, and a product description. Category-level information (e.g. garden furniture) also needs to be present – Pricesearcher’s data from its initial 500 million products found that category-level information was not provided in 7.9% of cases.

If retailers submit location data as well, Pricesearcher can list results that are local to the user. Additional fields that can help retailers rank are product quantity, delivery charges, and time to deliver – in short, the more data, the better.

A lot of ‘regular’ search engine optimization tactics also work for Pricesearcher – for example, implementing schema.org markup is very beneficial in communicating to the crawler which fields are relevant to it.

It’s not only retailers who can rank on Pricesearcher; retail-relevant webpages like reviews and buying guides are also featured on the search engine. Pricesearcher’s goal is to provide people with as much information as possible to make a purchase decision, but that decision doesn’t need to be made on Pricesearcher – ultimately, converting a customer is seen as the retailer’s job.

Given Pricesearcher’s role as a facilitator of online purchases, an affiliate model where the search engine earns a commission for every customer it refers who ends up converting seems like a natural way to make money. Smaller search engines like DuckDuckGo have similar models in place to drive revenue.

However, Dean is adamant that this would undermine the neutrality of Pricesearcher, as there would then be an incentive for the search engine to promote results from retailers who had an affiliate model in place.

Instead, Pricesearcher is working on building a PPC model for launch in 2019. The search engine is planning to offer intent-based PPC to retailers, which would allow them to opt in to find out about returning customers, and serve an offer to customers who return and show interest in a product.

Other than PPC, what else is on the Pricesearcher roadmap for the next few years? In a word: lots.

The future of search is vertical

The first phase of Pricesearcher’s journey was all about data acquisition – partnering with retailers, indexing product feeds, and crawling websites. Now, the team are shifting their focus to data science, applying AI and machine learning to Pricesearcher’s vast dataset.

Head of Search Paul Lovell is an analytics expert, and the team are recruiting additional data scientists to work on Pricesearcher, creating training data that will teach machine learning algorithms how to process the dataset.

“It’s easy to deploy AI too soon,” says Dean, “but you need to make sure you develop a strong baseline first, so that’s what we’re doing.”

Pricesearcher will be out of beta by December of this year, by which time the team intend to have all of the prices in the UK (yes, all of them!) listed in Pricesearcher’s index. After the search engine is fully launched, the team will be able to learn from user search volume and use that to refine the search engine.

The Pricesearcher rocket ship – founder Samuel Dean built this by hand to represent the Pricesearcher mission. It references a comment made by Eric Shmidt to Sheryl Sandberg when she interviewed at Google. When she told him that the role didn’t meet any of her criteria and asked why should she work there, he replied: “If you’re offered a seat on a rocket ship, don’t ask what seat. Just get on.”

At the moment, Pricesearcher is still a well-kept secret, although retailers are letting people know that they’re listed on Pricesearcher, and the search engine receives around 1 million organic searches on a monthly basis, with an average of 4.5 searches carried out per user.

Voice and visual search are both on the Pricesearcher roadmap; voice is likely to arrive first, as a lot of APIs for voice search are already in place that allow search engines to provide their data to the likes of Alexa, Siri and Cortana. However, Pricesearcher are also keen to hop on the visual search bandwagon as Google Lens and Pinterest Lens gain traction.

Going forward, Dean is extremely confident about the game-changing potential of Pricesearcher, and moreover, believes that the future of the industry lies in vertical search. He points out that in December 2016, Google’s parent company Alphabet specifically identified vertical search as one of the biggest threats to Google.

“We already carry out ‘specialist searches’ in our offline world, by talking to people who are experts in their particular field,” says Dean.

“We should live in a world of vertical search – and I think we’ll see many more specialist search engines in the future.”

source https://searchenginewatch.com/2018/02/23/pricesearcher-the-biggest-search-engine-youve-never-heard-of/ from Rising Phoenix SEO http://risingphoenixseo.blogspot.com/2018/02/pricesearcher-biggest-search-engine.html

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