#architectural speaker system | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnorgetburned · 1 year ago

Text

okay. OKAY. I JUST WANT TO SAY.

NEW MUSIC STYLE. NEW ART STYLE. NEW MAGIC SYSTEM, NEW GIRLS, MORE CLARA DOLLS, MORE HOMURA OUTFITS, MORE EVERYONE OUTFITS, and AAHAHAHAHSGH.

Homura wins by style points alone.

Anyway. Choice screenshots and my thoughts on them. Plus a few wild theories. Replies, tags, and your own reactions are VERY welcome.

(You're doing great, sweetie!)

First of all, I’ve already said this, but Homura has usurped Kyubey. She is the contractor in this new system. She calls magical girls and asks them if they can bear the responsibility of fighting (LEAGUES better than Kyubey's misleading BE A HERO language), using a magical lizard phone. She knows better than anyone else how heavy this is.

And she looks amazing while doing it. Look at that outfit! Look at her steampunk-esque aesthetic! Her throne. Which, notably, has glowing magenta eyes and her wings as a backrest.

The moon is either actually, physically repurposed, or she’s made something that looks like it. Not only that, but the pins going into the moon are exactly like the pins that went into her soul gem when she was being experimented upon in Rebellion. Those pins, according to the artbook, are for draining her gem of grief to keep her just before the point of witching.

Well, here’s my first wild speculation: Homura has not only taken over Kyubey’s job as a contractor but also its job of disposing of grief. That moon steampunk device is maybe for collecting, concentrating, and distilling grief into energy - hence the strange tesla coils connected to red liquid in the second screenshot above. She's doing what Kyubey says it's doing - turning the grief of people into energy to prolong the universe's lifespan.

I for one support her reality-warping shenanigans.

Here are some voices over a phone, sometimes speaking over each other, sometimes together. They call Homura “Akuma-sama” (!!!) which is a distinct upgrade from calling her Good-For-Nothing. They say “Just bring hope” like a mission statement. Are these her contracted girls? Or her Clara Dolls? They seem to show her a lot of respect.

I’ve also said this, but I strongly feel that this and the girl shown later are some of Homura’s new contractees. Their magic is darker. It warps the world around them, even. Their outfits incorporate black a lot more, too, though that might be the lighting.

Look at the little sigil on the top left-middle! Looks a lot like Homura’s lizard sigil shown when she was consuming the universe, just with a longer lizard.

And, of course, the image of Madoka throwing herself off of a building. “Wraith” and “Legend of Bestie” (lmao) show up here. I’ve actually been really looking forward to seeing what they’ll do with Madoka’s… self-sacrificial tendencies, so this might be part of that. Or, because of “Wraith”, it’s… well, I’ll get to that later.

On the other hand, it might not be Madoka. It might be the girl who the speaker in the phone call calls her "best friend", jumping to her death because of a wraith, and Homura saving her to fulfill a wish.

So glad that the insane architecture from Rebellion is making a comeback. Love what you’ve done with the place, Homura. Look at all those cranes!

The outfit changes are very cool to me. I honestly don’t have speculation for why Sayaka is covered in bandages, but I do have speculation for the changes!: they’re older. Years have passed. Since they’ve changed and grown, their outfits have changed, too. I don't have proof of this - I just like the idea.

Light shines down on Madoka. Petals fall towards her as flowers bloom above. Behold, Homura's extremely subtle and inscrutable feelings. (Sorry for the blurry Madoka, but I am not going through the ordeal of uploading screenshots to my computer again because Tumblr does not like mobile users).

Homura is apparently waiting for Madoka here. She's standing right in the fountain's water and holding a Victorian umbrella like a vampire. Right now we can see that the visuals of this movie will not miss.

Is this a routine thing for them or is Homura just showing up to greet them this one time, for some reason? No clue. Madoka's expression as she notices Homura could indicate either.

Eagle-eyed people on Twitter noticed this, but in these shots, Sayaka already has her bandages.

Aside from the multiple and/or teleporting Homuras, there's also a Clara Doll in a ballerina dress and a cute Clara Doll peering over the side of the tower like a little kid.

The tower is interesting. It appears to be made of books or pages, and there's chains throughout it. More notably, it's in the shape of a helix - infinity symbols on top of each other.

Please appreciate these Clara Dolls. I'm sure they're working hard.

But seriously, those Clara Dolls' details. One has a witch's hat. One has an apple on its head. And the one with a teacup appears to have not only a lizard's tail but a replica of Homura's Devil outfit. Appreciate them!

Here is Homura(?), lounging or trapped on a chair filled with even more of those pins. Look at her closely. She's wearing a strange combination of her magical girl outfit and her Devil outfit - her shoulders are bare, and she has... feathers? She's sitting on a bunch of nails. But she also has two soul gems - one in her hand, and one hanging from her neck.

Is she cleansing them? Eating them? Holding people hostage? I don't know, but I support her completely.

She looks so tired.

So: here's some of what I think might be going on.

Homura is using wraiths to repress her worst memories. We know already that wraiths take memories and emotions from their victims. Well, there's no reason it can't be used as extremely terrible coping! Homura actually does this in the Wraith Arc, too - she lets a wraith take her feelings for Madoka.

If it is Madoka, it explains the shot with Madoka throwing herself off a builing - what if Homura has seen this happen in the loops, and out of pain lets a wraith pull it right out of her? The shot says "WRAITH" and billows with smoke. A wraith could have taken Madoka's form to act out this memory. And it doesn't need to be a memory - it could also represent Madoka's self-sacrifice and almost suicidal tendencies. This, too, would explain the multiple Homuras. All wraiths using her form.

This puts forward powerful enemies for the plot, as well as an interesting point of literally fighting Homura's demons. Most importantly, this lets everyone see Homura's pain.

Other wild dartboard speculations:

Homura will try and present herself as a villain. This is, honestly, kind of guaranteed, but it bears mentioning that her magical girls will be very likely to try to defend her.

Kyubey may appear to try and turn the girls against Homura.

Homura made the new magical girl who is drawing a bow. She has a lot of design choices from the Quintet, and people have already noticed how much she looks like Madoka. This new girl plays a role of the hero to Homura's pretend-villain, eliminating the risk that her friends will get seriously hurt.

The new magical girl is actually Madoka. Or the Law of Cycles. Or Kriemhild Gretchen.

The girl who jumps from the tower is a contractee being asked to take a leap of faith. She does so, and Homura rewards her with magic.

#pmmm #pmmm analysis #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica #walpurgisnacht rising #walpurgis no kaiten #pmmm 4 #please tell me what tags to use for spoilers!#pmmm specuation #homura akemi #long post

610 notes · View notes

angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Violence, graphic violence, blood, fighting, human trafficking, mentions of abuse, drug use, child abuse, sex trafficking, angst. So much angst.

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Whew! I'm proud of this one! Many thanks to my bestest friend, Artemis, who himself has DID and helps me understand this condition and describe them (hopefully) more accurately! His system is a big help in me learning more about this subject! (Extra note: any Spanish spoken in this fic is in italics. As I am not a fluent speaker by any means, it is mostly translated by Google. Have fun!)

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 2:

Inside Voices

(Steven, no…) Marc's voice groaned out, glaring at him through the shared reflection in the glass door.

"But Marc! I've lived here for ages and didn't know this shop was here!" Steven beamed, smiling widely. Thankfully the wireless headphones he had on made him look like he was on the phone, and not completely off his rocker…

Marc ran his hands through his curly black hair. (You have enough books!)

"But this store might have books I don't have!" He pointed out.

(Just let him look, hermano.) Jake sighed, his reflection staring up at Steven from a puddle on the ground.

"Yes, thank you, Jake. At least somebody encourages my hobby!" Steven huffed indignantly at Marc.

(Jake, stop babying him!)

(Hey, nothing wrong with having a hobby?) The man snorted.

Marc rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders, he directed a tired glare back at Steven.

(You gonna go in or just stare at the front door?) He finally asked.

Steven grinned like an excited boy going into a candy shop.

Marc really needed to have a talk with Jake about this. Steven already had too many books in their flat!

Steven pulled the headphones out of his ears and shoved them in his pocket as he opened the door, nearly jumping when the bell dinged.

He looked around, rather impressed with how much was inside a small space. Steven almost jumped again when the clerk spoke.

"Hi! Welcome to Here Today Books!" She said cheerfully.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

(I'm just saying, Steven… that's too many fucking books.) Marc said, crossing his arms at Steven through the reflection in the window across from his desk, cluttered with papers, folders, and books on various subjects of the Egyptian religious pantheon, architecture, etcetera.

"Oh, hush." Steven hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he examined the pages on one of the old books he held in his hand.

(Steven…) Marc sighed, exasperatedly.

"I know, I know." He sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The stubble there was getting rather coarse. Maybe he could talk Jake out of growing that mustache or goatee he was thinking about…

Steven looked over and picked up the bookmark, sighing deeply as he looked at the gold-tipped rose sealed so lovingly in the plastic. Small vine-luke designs had been penned into the colorful sheet of paper inside the plastic as well.

(Very Beauty and The Beast, no?) Jake mused, his reflection from the mirror on the desk looking at Steven with a cocky grin.

It helped them, they found, to have as many reflective surfaces as possible in their flat; it enabled them to talk to each other simultaneously and "see" one another. Sure they could all talk in the headspace, and when they co-fronted it was almost like they could feel each other; rubbing shoulders, as it were, but sometimes you just needed to see the other person, y'know? Outside of your own head? Shared head? The terms still confused poor Steven, at times.

"I s'pose." He hummed, holding the plastic in his fingers gently, as if it were made of the thinnest glass. Absentmindedly, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and looked at the inside of his left wrist.

A mark was there.

A rose, to be precise.

Sometimes it would look like it was wilting, other times it was blooming and vibrant… other times it was closed, not ready to bloom.

Right now, it was somewhere between wilting and blooming. He wasn't sure what it meant. He thought back to Marc's ex-wife, Layla. And how he practically fell head over heels with her when they first met.

He had hoped, with Layla, that she had a corresponding mark… but she didn't. Layla was one of the few who didn't have a mark, or in the very least it hadn't shown up yet. Which isn't entirely implausible… But… something happened. After escaping the Duat, coming back to life, fighting Ammit… finding out about Jake.

They just drifted apart. The sparks that may have been there snuffed out, any hints at romance gone from the equation. They all decided it was better to leave it at that.

Well, at least they were all still on friendly terms, Steven mused. Layla still spoke to he and Marc via phone, or even email. It took Steven forever to convince Marc to ditch that "old dinosaur piece of plastic" he called a phone, and stick with his touch-screen.

Except… Jake. Ah, Jake. Layla never fully trusted him.

(Steven.) Jake said, getting his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" He hummed, turning the bookmark over and over in his hand thoughtfully, eyes fluttering back to their mark on their wrist.

(It's my turn tonight.) Jake reminded him softly.

"Oh… right." He cringed. "Bollocks, I hate this…"

(I know, hermanito. But it has to be done, or the bad guys roam free…)

"All right, just… don't let me see any of it, yeah?" Steven sighed, placing the bookmark on the table as he put his hands in his lap.

(Of course.) Jake replied.

Marc stayed silent.

Suddenly, eyes flew closed, the jaw clenched; a bit of a sharp pain fluttered briefly through the brain at the sudden switching. They were getting better at seamless transitions, but sometimes some form of discomfort lingered. The body sat, almost like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Whether it was five minutes or five seconds, it was unsure.

When the eyes opened again…

Jake was sitting where Steven sat. Steven's reflection wasn't in the mirror as Jake's had been, previously. He was left alone with Marc staring at him from the inky-black reflection in the window.

(I really hate that we have to do that to him.) Marc sighed, shaking his head.

"He's too gentle for our work, Marc." Jake said, clicking his tongue as he stood, walking over to the wardrobe in the corner and reaching out to grab his old leather coat. "He's too… good."

(I know.) Marc's reflection was in the fishtank now, where Gus the Second was swimming alongside… they really should think of a name for the other two.

Jake tugged the old worn garment on and pulled the gloves out of his jacket pockets with a sharp yank, flexing his fingers as they filled out the soft, well broken-in leather. Lastly, he pulled out that golf cap and slid it on his head, and looked at Marc.

(You don't have to see this, either, Marc.) He said to him.

(Somebody's gotta bear the weight with you, brother.) Marc said intently.

"Gracias por eso, hermano." Jake mumbled, twirling the flat's keys in his fingers as he walked to the front door.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

He sat, kneeling on the rooftop, his body hunched in a way that made him look like a gargoyle, unflinching and unmoving in his gaze; the cape gifted to him flared out almost like a long, tattered set of broken wings.

He wasn’t sure why he decided here of all places was a good place to talk. Why here? What drew him here? Was it the lingering joy and comfort Steven felt when he came in earlier that day?

The sign was hand-painted and in need of a new coat. Flecks of it had chipped away, the exposed wood beneath bleached by years of exposure. But… why was the bookshop important enough to stand outside now?

He looked down below, the curtains were pulled back still in the flat above, old lightbulbs casting a soft, orangish glow to everything inside. He could barely see from this vantage point across the street the boxes of books and book stacks lying on a desk in front of the window. Small knick knacks lined the sills, a hanging plant pot on the outside containing flowers of different kinds, slightly wilted from the lack of sun from the past few days, and now the night.

He stirred when he watched the young woman inside walk to the window in the living room and close the curtains; then tracked her movements as she went about her nightly rituals.

She seemed relaxed. Comfortable. Safe.

She didn't need protection tonight.

He felt the air chill around him, seeping through the wrappings of his armor.

“Jake Lockley.”

There it was. The voice he was waiting for. The voice that always knocked him away from his personal thoughts. The voice that told him of his duties during the night.

Khonshu.

“Yes, father?” Jake asked, standing up, turning to see the large imposing silhouette of a gaunt man, enshrouded in ancient, wispy linen wraps, a tattered shawl hanging from his bony shoulders, clenched in his fist; in place of a head was the dessicated and fleshless bone of a bird skull, small web-like tendrils wafting about here or there. Large, eyeless sockets fixed him in a crushing gaze, the skull tilting in an almost inquisitive manner.

(I wish you’d stop calling him that…) Marc grumbled from within.

“Have you located the evil-doers I sent you after?” Khonshu’s ancient and ethereal voice grated out.

“Yes. I plan on taking them out tonight.” Jake replied dutifully.

Khonshu tilted his head at Jake, and stood from where he sat on the aircon unit. “Now… Why are you here? This is not where you usually prefer to speak with me.”

“I… don’t know.” Jake admitted softly. “Felt like I had to be here.”

“Hmm.” The god hummed, stopping to stand next to Jake, looking down at the flat below. “Indeed.”

“Was there… anything else, father?” Jake asked, looking up at him.

“No. You can leave. I will issue new orders when our quarry is dead and dealt with.”

“Of course.” Jake bowed his head, pressing his fist over the moon on his chest; sparing one last glance down at the woman before walking away, leaping to another rooftop with superhuman strength.

Khonshu stayed. Observing, just for a moment longer, at the woman inside the safety of her home.

“Interesting.” He mused to himself, stamping his staff down and vanishing in a haze of mist.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Jake panted, pulling one of his darts out of the chest of the man who had tried to previously shoot him just now. He sheathed the weapon and approached the shipping container, hesitating for a moment before smashing the lock open with his bare fist and hauling the heavy doors open.

Inside were half a dozen women and young girls, and children. Some of them naked, others half-dressed. Many of them were dirty and half starved, injuries evident on their poor bodies.

He noticed how they all flinched, backing away from him.

“I won’t hurt you.” He said, in a tone as soft as he could possibly manage, trying to ease their worries. “I’m here to save you.”

Jake leaned down and pulled the jacket off the dead body of the man he had just killed, stepping over the corpse to the young woman nearest to him.

She was clad only in her underwear, bruises and track marks lining her body. He draped the jacket over her shoulders, zipping it closed for her as he guided her arms through the sleeves.

“The police are on their way. You’ll all be safe, soon.” He said, his glowing white eyes fixed in the black abyss of his mask immediately zeroed in on three women, clinging their arms around a group of small children.

The youngest couldn’t have been older than three years old. Her eyes cold, far too ancient and haunted for one so young, clouded by the things she’d been forced to endure for the profit of her traffickers; her tiny body already bearing the scars of the abuse and trauma. Jake’s fist balled at his sides as he forced his breathing to try and calm; adrenaline surging through him again, a hot coal of rage dropping deep into the pit of his stomach.

He wished he could kill them all over again. He wished he could make them all suffer in ways they could barely process for the things they’d done. He wanted to–

His cloak was tugged on, snapping him out of his seething.

He looked down, and a small boy, all skin and bones looked up at him. He looked to be about seven. Could be older, as malnourishment can inhibit growth. His big green eyes looked up at Jake as he wrapped the edge of his cloak around his shoulders like a blanket, his dirty and grimy fingers clinging to the blood-soaked material, seeking comfort he so desperately needed. Jake felt his heart crack in two. He looked almost like...

He closed his eyes for a moment and kneeled, getting as eye level with the boy as he could.

“You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Jake said, his voice quiet, almost broken. He reached for a ratty blanket on the ground and covered the little boy with it, the sight of him covered in a bloody cape almost too much for him to bear.

He felt his breathing hitch when the little boy smiled up at him, gap-toothed and happy. He handed the boy off to a woman who looked to only be maybe nineteen.

“Stay…” He cleared his throat, looking at everyone within the container, standing back to his full imposing height.

“Stay here while I make sure it’s safe and I got them all. Someone will be here soon to get you all out of here.”

“Thank you.” One of the women sobbed quietly, clutching onto what looked to be her own child. They looked too similar for them to be anything but related.

Jake turned, his cape flowing out behind him like a white shadow as he stalked into the warehouse beyond, his fists already tight; the spiked knuckles on the back of his hands ready for blows he was all too eager to deliver.

He stepped over bodies, beaten, broken. Lifeless.

All at his hand. They deserved worse.

The eerie quiet of the cavernous space was only interrupted by the tinkling of chains suspended from the rafters, wind whistling through unseen cracks.

He could hear the sirens in the distance closing in, but he didn’t relax. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure.

Not until he knew they were all dead.

Jake’s hands trembled with anticipation as that coal of rage ignited into an inferno, burning hot and low in his belly, sending sparks through his bloodstream. He was so far into that haze of red, he missed the man rushing him with a kabar knife.

He must have missed that one, the coward was probably hiding the moment the carnage broke out.

The moment he turned, he felt the blade slip easily through the wrappings of his dark armor, piercing the flesh and organs beneath, the pain tearing through his body like a macabre tsunami.

He brought his fist out, slamming the spiked knuckles into the face of the man.

The coppery scent of blood, the crunch of bones and cartilage filled his nose and were deafeningly loud in his ears. He was sure he watched his eyeball dislodge, hanging over the crushed and bloody expanse of his cheek as his body was sent flying into the cargo loader nearby.

The sound of his bones turning almost to powder overpowered the haunting ambience of the dark lair.

Jake marched over to him and gripped him by the shirt, rearing his fist back for another punch, even as his body hung limp in his grasp.

Only… he couldn’t land the blow. He just couldn’t. It was one thing to kill to protect. But it was another to beat a corpse that he’d already wrought with one blow. His ears picked up the sounds of shouting, sirens, bootfall. A helicopter whirred above, spotlight shining at the carnage below.

He stood, clutching at the knife still sticking out of his side as he dragged his feet, pulling the shell of his body outside, where he was met with armored police officers, wearing what he assumed was some kind of riot gear. The pain in his side was maddening, he almost didn’t hear them demand he kneel. But he did hear a woman cry.

He lifted his gaze to see the woman he’d handed the boy off to; the child still clutched in her arms as they looked over at him, their eyes locking with his.

“He saved us!” She cried.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” Another shouted.

“He’s a nice man!” A child sobbed, clinging to the emergency blanket around her frail body.

Jake felt like he could cry, he felt his heart swell to bursting; not able to tear his gaze away from the innocents he’d saved, that he killed for. Not even when one of the officers approached him, gripping his elbow to keep him steady.

The older man sighed, unable to cuff the man that the human trafficking victims were shouting and crying accolades for. Even if he apparently killed all these monsters bare-handed. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you looked at. We can’t leave that knife in ya.”

“I’m fine.” Jake mumbled, looking at the ground. His shoulders slumped.

“Like hell you are.” The officer turned and shouted for a medic.

“Perdóname, mi corazón." Jake muttered to himself. To someone else.

But as the man carrying the equipment bag jogged towards him, Jake gripped the handle of the knife and wrenched it free in one tug, blood spurting from the wound.

“Good God!” The officer gasped, reaching out to press his hand over the gushing wound. “Are you insane, boy?”

“Yes.” Jake mumbled, pulling his hand away from him, with gentle care that betrayed the violence his bloody fingers had wrought mere moments ago. He felt the wound close, the magic and blessed armor already performing its duty. Just as he had, so violently.

Jake straightened his posture as the medic and the officers backed away in a strange mixture of fascination, horror, and awe.

“Who… what are you?” The medic breathed.

Jake turned away, his gaze to the sky.

“I’m Moon Knight.”

And with that final goodbye, he leapt up, disappearing into the blackness and depths of the night, his heart heavy but relieved, cloak streaking across the shadows, as if to chase them away.

Chapter 3: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marvel #my writing #khonshu #A Rose Under The Moon

220 notes · View notes

queenoftheworldisdead · 13 days ago

Text

Non-Compete

Chapter 3

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don't bite!

Summary: Your super genius younger sister is offered a chance of a lifetime to work for either Oscorp or Stark industries straight out of high school. Her choices leave you stuck in an unrequited love triangle.

Warning: Slow Burn, Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! There is potentially triggering stories ahead.

Peter Parker x Reader, Norman Osborn x Reader

🍽️

It’s been hard coming to grips with how much Emily has been slipping away. You’d known it would happen eventually—that she’d carve her own path—but you never expected it to come so soon. You stand outside Stark Tower, trying to calm the nerves stirring under your skin. The place looms, a stark monolith of glass and steel, its futuristic lines and towering height leaving Oscorp’s old-world architecture feeling like something from another era. The double doors sweep open as you approach, swallowing you into a gleaming interior. Inside, it feels like stepping onto a different planet. Massive screens flicker with scenes of serene landscapes and starry expanses, while glass elevators hum up and down in silence. Robotic assistants glide past, and people move in sharp, purposeful lines, barely registering your presence. There’s a hum to the place, polished and cool, and already you feel out of place, the glossy surroundings swallowing your figure in their efficiency. As you cross the threshold, a voice—soft yet unsettling—echoes from hidden speakers. “Welcome. Please state your purpose.” It comes from nowhere and everywhere at once, unsettling in its precision.

You jump, nearly tripping over your own feet. Looking around, no one else seems phased, only concerned with their own tasks as they filter through the polished halls. "Uh, I’m here to see my sister," you say a bit awkwardly to the bodyless voice. A bright light blinks, and you flinch, the sharp flash momentarily blinding you. You blink rapidly, spots dancing in your vision as you try to steady yourself. “I—uh, I don’t have a code,” you add hastily, feeling a rush of nerves. “but it’s my sister. She works here, and—” “Access denied.” You swallow, heat rising in your face as the system’s words land like a punch. "But—Emily,” you start again, voice edged with frustration. “She works here. Just let her know—” “Access denied. Please vacate the premises, or Security will be notified.”

You force a stiff smile, cheeks burning, and turn on your heel, the sting of rejection settling heavy in your chest. All you’d wanted was a simple lunch with your sister. Instead, you’re walking back into the downtown noise, feeling a bit ridiculous, hoping no one noticed the exchange on some invisible camera.

Outside, you slip back into the crowd, the city’s chatter and thrum filling in the hollow feeling left behind. Downtown has always grated on you—the crush of bodies, the traffic pressing in—but right now, all you want is to get to your car, even if it’s four blocks away. At least getting back a little for the unused meter time will be a relief to your pocketbook.

"Excuse me, miss?" A voice calls out, slicing through the crowd. The words grip you like a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

Your pulse stutters, and instinct tells you to keep moving. But curiosity has you bracing, stealing a steadying breath before turning to see who’s called.

Is it security? You half expect to see someone from Stark Tower, chasing you down for trespassing. For a split second, the thought of running flashes through your mind.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass,” you say quickly, lifting your hands in a gesture of surrender as you turn around slowly. “I was just trying to take my sister to lunch.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you,” he replies, his voice cutting through the crowd with quiet authority. “It’s me Norman. Norman Osborn. I interviewed your sister.”

Recognition lands, and embarrassment creeps in, realizing your mistake.

“Oh—Mr. Osborn, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“No harm done.” He offers a faint smile, his gaze assessing as he falls in step beside you. “So, I understand Emily took an offer at Stark?”

“Yes, she did.” A faint pride slips into your voice. “She was so disappointed when she hadn’t heard back from Oscorp, and then this boy showed up out of nowhere—almost like fate.” You give a small, rueful laugh, feeling the awkwardness.

“Boy?” Norman’s brow wrinkles, curiosity flashing in his eyes.

“Yeah, Peter. Peter something. Just showed up one day, out of the blue.” you say excitedly.

For the briefest moment, a flicker passes over Norman’s face—too quick to catch, like a shadow crossing his features. It’s gone before you can read it, replaced by his usual cool, casual smile, leaving you wondering if you imagined it.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, almost to himself. His tone is steady, but something taut lurks beneath the surface.

“So, downtown to visit your sister, then?” he asks, a polite smile touching his lips. His gaze flicks over you, sharp and assessing, before sliding back toward the street, as if his thoughts are elsewhere.

“Tried to, anyway. Wanted to surprise her with lunch, but it didn’t quite work out as planned,” you say, the feel of earlier embarrassment still lingering.

He pauses, stopping so abruptly. You turn back a few steps ahead, brow creasing at his unreadable expression. The crowded sidewalk flows around you, but he seems fixed on you, gathering his thoughts.

“How about we grab lunch instead?” he suggests, the invitation unexpectedly warm but his tone hard to place. “My treat.”

🍽️

You hate saying no. You hate disappointing people.

Sitting across from the well-dressed man, you mentally kick yourself for not finding an excuse to back out. Your eyes drift to your casual jeans and worn-out sneakers, feeling painfully out of place in this restaurant. Chandeliers glisten above, casting soft light over the carefully set tables with crisp white linens. Even the silverware seems excessive—how many forks could one meal possibly require?

You pick through your salad as he cuts into his steak, nodding along as he talks tech—just like Emily, really, always in a language you don’t quite speak. When he orders the wine, you don’t refuse. The soft buzz settles over you, making it easier to hold your smile, easier to get through the meal. You take long, deliberate sips, not for the taste but to steady your nerves, Norman's gaze almost dissecting every word, every small movement. The weight of his attention presses down, leaving you hyper-aware and exposed, as though there’s nowhere to hide. You shift slightly, hoping to appear composed, but Norman's scrutiny keeps you on edge.

“You work at a Al's grocery-right? How long have you been there?” he asks change course, just as the waiter refills your glass. It’s surprising he knows where you work, but you brush it off—Emily must’ve mentioned it in passing.

“Oh, uh, since junior year of high school.”

“I admire your dedication,” he says, a curious glint in his eye. “It’s rare to see someone your age with such a strong work ethic.”

You force a smile, hesitating. “I didn’t really have a choice. After Mom passed, Dad... wasn’t really around, so someone had to keep things going.” The words slip out before you can stop them, the wine loosening your guard far more than you’d like. Normally, you wouldn’t say this much, you don't like talking about your personal life.

“That must’ve been a lot, balancing school and work at that age.”

“I... I didn’t finish,” you admit, wincing. You drop your gaze, feeling the old sting of shame. You’d always meant to go back, but creditors don’t care about circumstances. Without work, there was no food, no roof over your head.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to-,” Norman says, voice softening. “I know that must have been tough. But honestly, that doesn’t define you. What you’ve managed to accomplish despite it shows resilience. Sometimes life takes us down unexpected paths, but you’ve clearly made the best of yours.”

You nod, though his words settle like a weight in the air. It’s the last thing you want to hear—too close to the raw truth. The conversation feels too personal now, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, a half-smile barely managing to lift your lips.

“Um,” you begin, swallowing thickly, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. You hesitate, then force the words out, “I just—uh, I realized Emily asked me to pick up... I mean, sign for some packages.”

You stand suddenly, almost too quickly, and reach for your purse, the movement stiff. “I really should go,” you say, the words coming out in a rush, sounding more like an apology than anything else. The tension wraps around you tightly, and you feel the heat rise in your face as you hurry to leave.

“Wait,” he says softly, signaling to the waiter-maybe for the check. “Let me take you home.”

You hesitate, clutching your purse a little tighter. “I have my car…”

Norman shakes his head, his expression firm but kind. “You’ve been drinking. I can’t in good conscience let you drive. I’d feel terrible if something happened.”

You glance down at the floor, biting your lip. He’s right. The wine had blurred the edges of your thoughts, and now you’re feeling more off-balance than you’d like to admit. With a quiet nod, you give in, feeling both defeated.

“Okay,” you say softly, reluctant, “thanks.”

You can’t escape his kindness though you wish you had the will to.

#Dark Norman Osborn x Reader #Dark Norman Osborn #Dark Norman Osborn x Black Reader #Dark Norman Osborn x WOC #Dark Peter Parker #non-compete

7 notes · View notes

bluegekk0 · 2 months ago

Text

I was thinking of the technology in the AU based on what's in the game, primarily in the context of a potential water pipe system that allows for running water (which also uses the hot springs for hot running water; and since Dirtmouth is one of the biggest settlements in Hallownest, the pipes were extended there during Vyrm's rule), and by looking at some of the mechanisms and architecture I realized that I completely forgot about the speakers inside the trams. The music they play stops the moment you destroy the speaker, which imples that they somehow figured out gramophone-like technology and can actually record and play music.

This means that all the music preference ask responses didn't even have to be a modern AU thing like I approached it. If they can record music, that means there are potential different genres, and Vyrm and the others would absolutely have their preferences.

This, alongside the other elements and technology in general as I interpret it in the AU, is definitely going to be a bigger part of the worldbuilding section on the lore page. I think it's interesting how technologically advanced it seems compared to a more medieval-esque general vibe I imagine for the rest of Hallownest. Mixing the history inspired architecture and vibes with some almost steampunk-like elements sounds like a really fun concept that I want to explore. I already introduced clocks and watches as one of Vyrm's main interests now that he lives in Dirtmouth, and I love the idea of him slowly introducing more advanced technology to Dirtmouth (which thus far only got the basics such as the water pipe system and stuff like the lifts) through his inventions and plans.

I'll have to revisit the game, maybe there are other similar elements that I missed or forgot about, that I could use as further inspiration.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #au worldbuilding

16 notes · View notes

dre4ml4nd-st4rlight · 4 months ago

Text

**｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ Mephistopheles Alter Pack - For @theworldtree01 . I hope this is good, excited to post my first alter pack. Ty for req, the other one will be posted soon when spoons are higher :3

「 ✦ Base ID ‘ s ✦ 」**

╰┈➤ names : Mephistopheles / Mephie ,

╰┈➤ Pronouns : he/him , they/them , it/its , goth/goths , vamp/vampires , bat/bats , ey/eyes, cross/cross , stab/stabs , cree/creeps , pred/predators , dark/darks , love/loves , blood/bloods , sin/sins , cast/castles ,

╰┈➤ Titles : The Dark Master , The Lord of Blood , Predator , ⌞ prn ⌝ Sinfulness , Immortal Lover , ⌞ son/child/Spawn/kin ⌝ of the eclipse

╰┈➤ Genders : predator omninoun , angelivamp , violeboy , nyctophic , phosnightal , aneium , gothvictoric , vampgothic , batumbrellic , tradgothic , gothaudic ,

╰┈➤ Orientations : omnisexual (masc lean), necromantic , nonhuman for nonhuman , masc for masc , cupiospec ,

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ other id ‘ s ๋࣭⭑ ꩜ ˎˊ˗

☾ Cis - born 800 Ad during the Carolingian Renaissance , vampire , half-dead , corpsebodic , German , demon , folkloric nonhuman

⟡ Trans - ageless , living , alcoholic (wine addict) , royalty (vampire prince) , transcharacter ; mephisto (Germanic folklore) , French ,

ᯓ★ 「 ✦ Roles + Alter Functions ✦ 」. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

persecutor , falsehood speaker , Auxillary , emotion enhancer , emotional processor , babysitter , caregiver , communicator

Mephie’s role is to check in on those in the system and ensure that people get help when needed. bat itself doesn’t tend to do any helping- vamp just makes sure those who need things get what they need (food, water, mental health help,)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ Interest and misc details ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

Favorite colors : reds, blacks, dark green + blue, greys , dark brown ,

hobbies : writing (poetry specifically) , learning cursive , learning about history , looking at castles + old gothic architecture , listening to goth music , reading novels (specifically mysteries, horrors, or gothic lit. Although he does have a secret love for cheesy romance books. Would probably have a love hate relationship with the twilight series) , gothic dancing

Cree was an architect for many different gothic architectural buildings- including the Notre Dam. looking at / exploring old gothic buildings is a big source of joy for him.

It is an immortal vampire that feeds off of energy (and blood, but mostly energy), different emotion give him different energy levels. Vamp automatically picks up on the energy in the room, and goths mood involnutarily changes depending on it

Snape voice Claim ??

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩

── .✦ Photos + Aesthetic hoard - Face Claim

- Aesthetic Hoard

#+ Eclipsed Suns 𖥔 ݁ ˖#Alter packs #build a headmate #bah #baa #bahbaa #baabah #rq 🍓🌈#alternative #rq safe #rq 🌈🍓#pro rq 🌈🍓#rqc🌈🍓#pro radq #rq community #transid #radqueer

9 notes · View notes

spaceintruderdetector · 7 months ago

Text

This study is a trans-disciplinary and trans-historical investigation into civilian and battlefield contexts in which speaker systems have been utilised by the military-industrial and military-entertainment complexes to apply pressure to mass social groupings and the individuated body. Drawing on authors such as historian/sociologist Michel Foucault, economist Jacques Attali, philosopher Michel Serres, political geographer/urban planner Edward Soja, musician/sonic theorist Steve Goodman, and cultural theorist/urbanist Paul Virilio, this study engages a wide range of texts to orchestrate its arguments. Conducting new strains of viral theory that resonate with architectural, neurological, and political significance, this research provides new and original analysis about the composition of waveformed geography. Ultimately, this study listens to the ways in which the past and current utilisation of sonic, infrasonic, and ultrasonic frequencies as weapons, apparatus for psychological manipulation, and instruments of physiological influence, by industrial, civilian, entertainment, and military organisations, predict future techniques of sociospatialised organisation.

#mind control #sound

14 notes · View notes

daman19942 · 2 years ago

Photo

LuLu Lounge Maxis Remodel

Inspired by Studio Town’s very own 82 Sunrise Boulevard (aka Fairchild Film Studios), I bring you my latest Maxis Remodel...LuLu Lounge! I first teased this back in September but I never quite happy with the interior (it is a huge footprint) so I kept trying different ideas and tweaking things. Nonetheless, I finally have declared it “done” and ready to share!

As usual, I did make some architectural changes. The whole building has been extended by one tile, mainly so I could dress up the entrance with two-story doors and a new marquee. The original description said LuLu Lounge offers velvet couches and ambient music, but as I leaned into the Studio Town aesthetic, I wanted something more “old Hollywood.” That meant lots of wood and a little art nouveau styling. The second floor is accessible but largely decorative, but there is a small office above the bathrooms if you want to run it as a business. Everything has been tested in a copy. The uploaded file has never been played.

There is some CC included in the file, which is outlined below. Because this makeover was inspired by Studio Town, downloading the 1t2 conversions is vital to the lot appearing as shown. Please note that Argon’s seasonal topiares are bundled, so you’ll be getting the set of 5 (Egg, Skyscraper, Pyramid, Llama, and Dolphin). Thank you to the CC creators!

CC Included (Exterior wall) Sims1 SS Movie 1 and Movie 2 by simthing TS1 Superstar Studio Fence by Crisps&Kerosene TS1 Iron Fence and Gate by grinder (Topiaries) Surplus Llama Lawn Ornament and The Poetic Porpoise Topiary by MaxoidMonkey, updated for Seasons by Argon Neukem Systems “Repertoire” Jazz Speaker by Zeroth

CC Shown But Not Included NL Wall Curtain Texture Default by HugeLunatic

CC Not Included But Suggested Formal Sign by Simlogical Sims 2 Store Deco Collection by shastakiss

Download: SFS | MTS

Let me know if you run into any issues!

#ts2 #the sims 2 #sims2cc #sims 2 lots #sims 2 downtown #sims 2 download #maxis makeover #maxis remodel #The Sims Superstar #1t2

113 notes · View notes

rosemary-is-in-pesterquest · 11 months ago

Note

earth c hc's huh?

-my go to thoughts for buildings is like kinda similar to zootopia having various sizes of doors for all the species and other accomadating details to architecture

-i go semi back and forth between wanting the kids planet landscapes literally terraformed into earth and speedrunning its evolution around em till their stabalized bcus i mean what 16 yr olds wouldnt wanna go crazy with decorating their new world? let em have fun!

-hashtag lussi are back and have a system regarding who'd be a good caretaker for a child or not, and translator collars for non-lussi speakers

-trains/trolly transportations are more popular and common bcus i said so /lh hj

OH I LOVE THE IDEA OF LUSII COMING BACK…. that’s actually a big headcanon of mine for Earth C, I think it gives the new universe a neat touch and reminder that it’s a world between not only humans but trolls and carapacians too. Just makes it even more fun and thriving, y’know. A++ Earth C hcs, I need more

#in my earth c fiduspawn is banned in a lot of countries lmao #homestuck

12 notes · View notes

watthifi · 1 year ago

Text

Architectural Speakers and their Role in Home Theaters

In the realm of home theaters, Architectural Speakers play a crucial role in transforming a regular viewing experience into an immersive audio journey.

#architectural speaker system #architectural ceiling speakers #architectural home speakers #architectural speakers outdoor #jbl architectural speakers

1 note · View note

techtimechronicles24 · 9 months ago

Text

🇯🇵 Step into the world of Sega Corporation personal computers and explore their unique contributions to the realm of computing and gaming! From the pioneering SC-3000 to the innovative TeraDrive and the Amstrad Mega PC.

💻 Kicking off the lineup is the SC-3000 (Sega Computer 3000), Sega's inaugural foray into the world of personal computing. Released in July 1983 in Japan, the SC-3000 served as the home computer counterpart to the SG-1000 video game console. With its 8-bit architecture and built-in keyboard, the SC-3000 offered gamers and hobbyists a platform for both gaming and programming, setting the stage for Sega's future innovations in the computing space.

💾 Fast forward to 1991, and Sega partnered with IBM to create the groundbreaking TeraDrive—an IBM PC compatible system with an integrated Mega Drive. This innovative fusion of gaming and computing allowed users to seamlessly switch between playing Mega Drive games and utilizing PC applications, showcasing Sega's commitment to pushing the boundaries of technology and entertainment.

⌨️ Last but not least, the Mega PC, manufactured by Amstrad under license from Sega in 1993, offered a unique combination of a standard Amstrad PC with Sega Mega Drive hardware bundled inside. Unlike the TeraDrive, the Mega PC featured separate circuitry for the Mega Drive, enabling users to share the dual-sync monitor and speakers between the two systems.

8 notes · View notes

lazywriter7 · 1 year ago

Text

Written for Stony AUgust over at @stonyauniverse , for week one/alternate professions.

non functional requirements

There’s a man-shaped twig blocking the door to the lecture hall.

“You coming or you going?”

The twig startles – blue eyes darting under wheat yellow hair. Gwen pulls the worn strap of her tote bag more firmly over her shoulder, MacBook weighing it down, grimacing all the while.

“Sorry.” The twig apologises in a surprisingly deep voice, then opens the door for her. Cute gesture if class hadn’t already started and now she’s gotta squeeze past him through the tiny door.

The guy re-evaluates his chivalry after a couple seconds of awkward silence. He ducks through into the hall but lingers, and Gwen sidesteps him to dump her crap on the floor near the closest seat on the second last row.

“Recording’s kicked off, so we might as well. This is lecture four of System Design Engineering.” The lecturer’s voice crackles over the speakers. Looks like he’s just gotten started, so that gives her a couple minutes to get setup. “Today we’ll be going over NFR’s, or non-functional requirements. What they are, how they’re defined. These can apply to any kind of computing systems, system architectures, front end or backend APIs, you name it. Any kind of – sorry, was that a hand?”

“Morning Tony.” Someone greets from close to the front row. Gwen, who’s waiting for her Macbook to complete its primeval, laborious booting up procedure, feels her shoulders sag even further down. God, not this shit again.

“Did your coffee machine explode again?”

“Implode, and no.” The lecturer – Tony – cracks a brief smile. The band t-shirt he’s got on is mostly just wrinkles, his hair flattened straight down the sides like it hasn’t been washed in a couple days. Really gives Gwen such an inspiring picture to look up to for her own prospective career in academia. “And just for that not-so-subtle commentary on my opening salvo today, I’m gonna teach this entire lecture using a metaphor.”

“Was it Justin Hammer?” Someone else calls from the front. “Did he hog the servers to train machine learning models on LinkedIn posts?”

“Fuck no.” Tony says, and winces immediately in the bout of snickers that erupt. “And now you’ve got me swearing on the recording. Gonna put all of you heathens on a bus to the downtown community college, don’t think I won’t do it.”

The students hush in anticipation. Tony blinks, knuckles at his nose under the wireframe glasses, and looks to the ceiling as if in despair. “I mean. I… pre-emptively apologise, and intend no insult to any students, or family of students listening to this, who may have attended community college. Community college is an institution. Just like… jail.”

“You sure your coffee machine didn’t explode?”

“Shut up Miles.” Tony gestures half-heartedly at the screen behind him, where the slide has finally changed.

Gwen’s brought up her note-taking tool by habit on her up-and-running Mac, but she doesn’t have high hopes. It’s not like the guy doesn’t know his stuff, he’s just easily derailed into tangents and rambles and spicy opinions on SpaceX, and Gwen likes to be systematic about learning new things. Start at the beginning, finish at the end, with preferably zero stand-up material along the way. If she’d wanted jokes, she’d put on a late-night show.

And then to add insult to injury, someone creeps up the side and sinks down on the seat right in front of her, blocking her eyeline to the lower third of the screen. The bluish light dances silver over the light-coloured mop of hair… it’s the twiggy dude, from the doorway. Did he just find a seat?

“Think about a relationship.” Tony’s saying, up at the lectern. “Parent and child, cousins twice removed, romantic partners. Whoever. There are the expectations, the responsibilities… the requirements, you could say, which are obviously defined and the bare minimum for the relationship to exist. If you’re a parent, you gotta house and feed your kid. If you don’t do that, you fail at the basic requirements of being a parent. So if you turn up with your deadbeat ass at your kid’s wedding, they’re justified to go all, ‘you’re not my dad’.”

A guy in the third row raises a pen into the air. “Can I explain it like that in the exam?”

“I’m not going to be the only one marking, Ganke, so I’d actively encourage it.” Kinda nice, how he remembered so many names though. Gwen has been in this course for six months and only knows faces. “However, there are certain requirements which may not be essential for the relationship to be defined and functional but are still important. Like if your parent loves you.” A twitch. “Loves the kid, that is.”

In the seat ahead of her, Twig’s shoulders have risen up to his ears, frame gone all stiff. Gwen bites back a sigh and moves over to the next seat, just to eliminate the distraction.

She thinks about Dad in the next breath, awkwardly jabbing at his cereal and darting glances at her over the table, and immediately shoves it down.

“You might be tempted to think of it as how good a system is at fulfilling a base requirement – like how good of a parent they are, depending on if they do or don’t love you. And that’s not incorrect; whether a website is able to serve a high volume of traffic, or have an uptime of ninety nine percent, is absolutely about how good it is at serving its base requirement, which is to present an accessible resource over the internet. But if the thresholds of those non-functional requirements aren’t met, if the website keeps throwing a 404 more frequently than is acceptable, then it impedes said basic requirement. Even though uptime isn’t in the strict definition of the deliverable. You feel me?”

Silence. Someone from the far end meekly chirps a yes.

“Ohhkay.” Tony paces out from behind the lectern, keen eyes scanning the room like he’s actually, really invested. That’s… that’s a nice thing about him too. “Imagine I’m in a relationship, right? My partner and I, we define what a romantic relationship means to us and what we expect of each other going in. Like… monogamy, maybe. Or meeting at least once a week. So as long as I don’t go cruising, or ghost this guy for a month, I’m technically fulfilling my promises as a boyfriend. Those are your functional requirements.”

There’s a tiny murmur in the room at ‘guy’, but it dies out quick. Not exactly a surprise from the man who wears bi flag-coloured sunglasses to Orientation week.

“But to the enlightened, relationships are about more than that.” Tony’s lips curl at one end, like the words amuse him. Or that he’s speaking them? “Dependability. Emotional support. Prioritising the other person’s needs. All that chicken soup for the soul stuff; your non-functional requirements.”

“So I gotta think about it, the third time I reschedule date night. Get lost in a work thing and forget to respond to a text. Several texts. Forget to buy the milk, even though he told me to and put a reminder on my phone. Make life decisions on my own. These things take… a toll.” Tony isn’t making eye contact with the crowd anymore. His eyes skitter up to the ceiling and away again, restless even as his voice continues on methodically. “Maybe my partner can put up with it. Does put up with it. But just because I’m serving the base functionality of a romantic partner, doesn’t mean I can ignore these things. These are also essential to the health of the relationship.”

“But you gotta design for that. I can’t sit there like a dimwit going, ‘oh I’ll just do better next time’ and expect it to magically happen. That I’ll just… be better, with no effort on my part aside from intending to.” Gwen drops her eyes to the plastic tabletop, scratches and pen marks running over the surface. This is weirdly intense. “I have to have the right system in place. Maybe I vow to reply to a text every time I’m downing a cup of coffee. Set up regular delivery orders for milk online. Make it to the date, even if it is an hour too late and not in the place I wanted, just so we’re there together. Plan in advance so that things can get better, instead of crossing fingers and blowing on an eyelash. Do the work.”

She lifts her gaze by an inch, still vaguely discomfited, and catches Twig’s jaw clenching in profile, limned by the light of the screen. He shifts in his seat, raises a fist to wipe brusquely at something under his eye. It’s all very quiet. Tightly controlled.

“And that’s how systems need to function. Sure your primary focus is to get the thing up and running, but you need to think about performance, and security, and reliability when you’re architecting a solution. Two weeks before go live is not the time to realise that you’re pulling from an old-timey relational database when you actually needed caching. That the base components of your system just… don’t work together the way you want.” Tony pauses, blinks a couple times. Like his words have outstripped his thoughts and it’s all starting to come together. Form an obvious conclusion. His mouth turns down, goes wry again. “It gets real expensive to fix things then.”

And so it continues. The hour goes by faster than usual, Gwen startling a little by the time Tony wraps up the lecture, a whole five minutes before time like he always prefers to do.

Or… plans to do, perhaps. Mid-morning lectures, people usually have to empty out of these halls fast to get to the next one, but there’s a disordered cluster of students still lingering around the lectern, shooting the shit and exchanging laughs with Tony. He looks visibly better at the end of the hour, more energetic than he did at the start of the lecture. Like it actually rejuvenated him – which isn’t the worst ideal to look up to as a prospective academic.

Whatever, Gwen isn’t getting ahead of herself. She’s got band to get to.

Of course, when she stuffs her laptop into the tote bag and does a brief check to make sure everything’s in there, she can’t see her fob. Can’t get into the rehearsal room without it, so she gropes for it fruitlessly for a couple of minutes, before resorting to dumping the bag out on her seat. Chocolate wrappers flutter to the ground, a pen cap without a pen rolling down to join them. Handouts from her other classes, worksheets, one physical notebook, a set of drumsticks… no fob.

Ugh. She ducks under her seat to check, nose twitching as the longer end of her bangs ruffle past. There, small and plasticky-blue against the maroon carpet. Fishing it out through the tiny gap is an ordeal, and by the time she has it secure in her pocket, the hall’s empty.

Or not quite. She’s shovelling her stuff one-handed while pacing up the stairs to the exit, when, “–mean to show up at your place of work.”

“You’re my boyfriend Steven, not a stalker. It’s fine.”

Hang on. What?

Tony and some guy – Twig, she can tell by the bony shoulders – Steven, are standing in front of the door. Tony and his boyfriend. Who was in their class. Who was probably not in their class, just physically present in this… particular class.

Tony seems to be frenetically running through similar thoughts, because his mouth just doesn’t stop moving, hands gesturing through the air like a conductor gone loose. “Well, not fine fine. I guess, considering what I – considering all of the… I didn’t know you were in the audience, obviously. I’ll just do as Taylor does and write a song about it the next time.”

Fuck. Can she just… push past them, really quickly? Or right in the middle of them. She’s been to parties where she doesn’t know anybody before, this can’t be any more awkward than that. Probably.

Steven’s already thin lips press tight together. He’s standing very, very straight, not a thing to criticise in that posture. Captain Stacy would be proud.

“Are we,” He starts, deep voice as startling out of that reed-thin frame as it was the first time, stumbling over the words just a little, “breaking up then?”

“What?” Tony breathes, and it’s like it’s stoppered his flow of thought completely.

Steven’s lips flicker up weakly. “You said Taylor.”

“No, no,” Tony’s hands flutter again – he pulls them back and tucks them close over his chest, just a little protective. “Stupid joke, you know me.” And then, just a little wry. “Of all the times to know a modern music reference.”

It’s like he’s laying out bait, an easy diversion. Steven could say something about preferring The Beatles and they needn’t tug on this line of thought, make things unravel.

Maybe it’s why Gwen hasn’t cleared her throat or done anything to clue them off to her presence yet. Something in her is so discomfited, twisted up with the second-hand awkwardness – she can’t let them go on but it would be worse if they saw her – but there’s also a second voice in her head, the one that’s good at moderating and peeling people open from a distance.

if you stop them talking now, when will they try again?

Steven doesn’t take the bait. Something in him strains like he wants to take a step forward, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he says quietly – “I do know you.”

“I know how much you think about us. How much it matters to you to get things right, and I guess I just…” Steven’s mouth purses, soft and unhappy, “take it for granted, all of that work, because it just happens to be who you are. Who you’ve chosen to be.”

“Steve, don’t – we’re both workaholics–”

“We are.” Steve acquiesces, but the words that follow sound implacable. “But you plan around it. Every single thing you said in the lecture, you… you booked those regular grocery deliveries for us, and I cribbed at you about it because they deliver in those plastic bags and the emissions from the delivery trucks–”

“It was a valid fucking point–”

“It was a stupid point, and you were right to tell me that.” Steve says it without hesitation. “I cancelled on our weekend away, again, and you were right to call me out on that this morning too. You just don’t…” A little softer. “Sometimes you don’t say anything.”

A beat.

Tony unfolds his arms, eyes fixed somewhere off-centre around Steve’s collarbone. His voice has dropped to match Steve’s, simmering with something indecipherable. “I was really… happy when you agreed to be with me. Stunned out of my head, sure. But happy. I wanted to get it right. It would have never occurred to me to… with our history, with my history, it just didn’t compute sometimes that…”

Steve cuts in, mouth twisting with it. “That I’d be the screw-up in the relationship?”

“Careful sweetheart.” Tony lifts his eyes, and they’re still warm. “Name-calling is my department.”

But he seems to be taking Steve’s previous words to heart.

“I know…” He swallows. Drops his hands completely, lifts his chin and talks. “I know how much that place means to you, I know how much you’d have killed to have a queer shelter in the neighbourhood, heck in the city, growing up like you did. I want someone who cares about what they do, I’d have been bored to shit with a person coasting by on a job that meant nothing to them. You wanna do paperwork till one am, I’ll be right there on the couch with you marking papers. That is fine, the donations from your own pocket are – don’t cut me off Steve – are fine, even if it is a little like Mrs. March teaching the kids to give away their Christmas meal to the less fortunate. That’s the guy I chose to be with.”

“You need to save the world. You can’t help yourself.” Tony bit into his lip, smile here and gone in a flash. “And I’m just a guy who teaches a couple university classes, while trying to get a startup off the ground for the last five years. But this morning when you…” He sucks in a breath, exhales it soundlessly. “When you looked like you couldn’t imagine how I’d think we wouldn’t cancel… how you disdained the idea of. Of spending time with me, instead of saving the world. Then it felt pretty shitty.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t say anything at all. His face is pale, cheeks lost of any colour. His eyes have gone red. “I. I’m sorry.”

Tony clears his throat, voice forcibly bright. “Not gonna say you’d never think like that?”

“… doesn’t matter.” Steve says simply. “It’s how I made you feel.”

“There are those unrealistic moral principles I know and love.” Tony’s smiling, only a little watery around the edges. He moves into Steve’s motionless frame, hands reaching out again, this time to catch him by the elbows and smooth down to hang onto his wrists. “We’ll work on it.”

Steve is staring down at their hands, both like they’re condemned and something miraculous. “In the lecture. When you said that the components of the system didn’t work together the way you’d want…”

He looks up. Tony meets his eyes, gives a little shrug. “A better guy would know how important what you’re doing is. Would maybe resent its importance a little less.”

“Tony, I’m not a better person than you are.” Steve’s voice is thick, almost choking with the entreaty. His hands turn in Tony’s loose clasp, gripping back tightly. “Tony.”

Tony gives a little burble of a laugh. Bends over low, forehead brushing Steve’s shoulder. “We’ll work on me too.”

They lean into each other for a moment. Tony’s face is almost hidden behind Steve’s golden locks. “I don’t really care, if you’re better or worse than me. I’m keeping you.”

Steve pulls back. Leans up a fraction to press their lips together, both their eyes fluttering shut.

They pull apart, smiles pulling up on those mouths like mirroring sunrises. Steve leans in for another peck, then quietly pushes the door to step outside. Tony follows him.

Gwen sits down on the floor, fifteen metres away, laptop thunking into the carpet. She bends her head down to her belly, and breathes.

Fuck, she’s going to feel the anxiety of this in her back for weeks.

Band practice is a loss. The entire morning might be a loss. She needs a cupcake, and some grunge music. But even as vague ideas for the upcoming day begin to coalesce, she can feel a curious lightness shoot through her body. Like she can take it. The aches and pains, the barista shift in the afternoon. Like the world is alright, actually, and she’s not gonna keel over just yet.

This is why she doesn’t watch rom-coms.

She pulls herself up eventually and finally exits the hall. And there, by himself in the corner, completely failing to look like he’s doing anything but waiting for her – is Tony.

The world is a nightmare. She doesn’t stutter. “Did you know I was in there?”

Tony looks like he’d be rubbing the back of his neck abashedly, if he were that kind of guy. Instead, he visibly decides to brazen it out. “Not until the last thirty seconds before we left.”

Small mercies.

“Were you… did you have something to talk to me about? My office hours are 2-3, but–”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Gwen interrupts, entirely out of patience. That’s what’s going through his head right now?

Tony shuts his mouth with a click, eyebrows rising.

“There’s nothing.” Gwen forces. And then, just as involuntary as the swear – “You’re a good teacher.”

Tony blinks. Gwen remembers him bantering about with her classmates, not losing a step.

“Thanks, Gwen.” His nose looks a little red. So do the very tops of his cheeks. He looks unaccountably pleased.

Gwen’s lips tilt up.

“You could do better than him, you know.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” Tony beams at her. Turns around, waves two fingers. “See you next week.”

The rehearsal hall is in the same direction that he’s walking in. Gwen unerringly walks the other way. By the time she loops the quad and makes it there, she’ll have thirty minutes left. Half of band practice is better than none.

She taps a rhythm on her outer thigh, blows a strand of her bangs out of the eyes. Tugs the tote bag higher up. Band, then lunch, and then maybe she can call her dad.

#stonyaugust #stevetony #stony #lazywriting #fanfic #alternate universe #outsider pov #pre serum steve #no powers au #steve rogers #tony stark #gwen stacy #steve/tony #elaborate computing metaphors for the win

26 notes · View notes

govindhtech · 2 months ago

Text

How To Reduce 5G Cybersecurity Risks Surface Vulnerabilities

5G Cybersecurity Risks

There are new 5G Cybersecurity Risks technology. Because each 5G device has the potential to be a gateway for unauthorized access if it is not adequately protected, the vast network of connected devices provides additional entry points for hackers and increases the attack surface of an enterprise. Network slicing, which divides a single physical 5G network into many virtual networks, is also a security risk since security lapses in one slice might result in breaches in other slices.

Employing safe 5G Cybersecurity Risks enabled devices with robust security features like multi-factor authentication, end-to-end encryption, frequent security audits, firewall protection, and biometric access restrictions may help organizations reduce these threats. Regular security audits may also assist in spotting any network vulnerabilities and taking proactive measures to fix them.

Lastly, it’s preferable to deal with reputable 5G service providers that put security first.

Take On New Cybersecurity Threats

Cybercriminals often aim their biggest intrusions at PCs. Learn the characteristics of trustworthy devices and improve your cybersecurity plan. In the current digital environment, there is reason for worry over the growing complexity and frequency of cyber attacks. Cybercriminals are seriously harming businesses’ reputations and finances by breaking into security systems using sophisticated tools and tactics. Being able to recognize and address these new issues is critical for both users and businesses.

Threats Driven by GenAI

Malicious actors find it simpler to produce material that resembles other individuals or entities more authentically with generative AI. Because of this, it may be used to trick individuals or groups into doing harmful things like handing over login information or even sending money.

Here are two instances of these attacks:

Sophisticated phishing: Emails and other communications may sound much more human since GenAI can combine a large quantity of data, which increases their credibility.

Deepfake: With the use of online speech samples, GenAI is able to produce audio and maybe even video files that are flawless replicas of the original speaker. These kinds of files have been used, among other things, to coerce people into doing harmful things like sending money to online fraudsters.

The mitigation approach should concentrate on making sure that sound cybersecurity practices, such as minimizing the attack surface, detection and response methods, and recovery, are in place, along with thorough staff training and continual education, even if both threats are meant to be challenging to discover. Individuals must be the last line of defense as they are the targeted targets.

Apart from these two, new hazards that GenAI models themselves encounter include prompt injection, manipulation of results, and model theft. Although certain hazards are worth a separate discussion, the general approach is very much the same as safeguarding any other important task. Utilizing Zero Trust principles, lowering the attack surface, protecting data, and upholding an incident recovery strategy have to be the major priorities.Image Credit To Dell

Ransomware as a Service (RaaS)

Ransomware as a Service (RaaS) lets attackers rent ransomware tools and equipment or pay someone to attack via its subscription-based architecture. This marks a departure from typical ransomware assaults. Because of this professional approach, fraudsters now have a reduced entrance barrier and can carry out complex assaults even with less technical expertise. There has been a notable rise in the number and effect of RaaS events in recent times, as shown by many high-profile occurrences.

Businesses are encouraged to strengthen their ransomware attack defenses in order to counter this threat:

Hardware-assisted security and Zero Trust concepts, such as network segmentation and identity management, may help to reduce the attack surface.

Update and patch systems and software on a regular basis.

Continue to follow a thorough incident recovery strategy.

Put in place strong data protection measures

IoT vulnerabilities

Insufficient security makes IoT devices susceptible to data breaches and illicit access. The potential of distributed denial-of-service (DDoS) attacks is increased by the large number of networked devices, and poorly managed device identification and authentication may also result in unauthorized control. Renowned cybersecurity researcher Theresa Payton has even conjured up scenarios in which hackers may use Internet of Things (IoT) devices to target smart buildings, perhaps “creating hazmat scenarios, locking people in buildings and holding people for ransom.”

Frequent software upgrades are lacking in many IoT devices, which exposes them. Furthermore, the deployment of more comprehensive security measures may be hindered by their low computational capacity.

Several defensive measures, such assuring safe setup and frequent updates and implementing IoT-specific security protocols, may be put into place to mitigate these problems. These protocols include enforcing secure boot to guarantee that devices only run trusted software, utilizing network segmentation to separate IoT devices from other areas of the network, implementing end-to-end encryption to protect data transmission, and using device authentication to confirm the identity of connected devices.

Furthermore, Zero Trust principles are essential for Internet of Things devices since they will continuously authenticate each user and device, lowering the possibility of security breaches and unwanted access.

Overarching Techniques for Fighting Cybersecurity Risks

Regardless of the threat type, businesses may strengthen their security posture by taking proactive measures, even while there are unique tactics designed to counter certain threats.

Since they provide people the skills and information they need to tackle cybersecurity risks, training and education are essential. Frequent cybersecurity awareness training sessions are crucial for fostering these abilities. Different delivery modalities, such as interactive simulations, online courses, and workshops, each have their own advantages. It’s critical to maintain training sessions interesting and current while also customizing the material to fit the various positions within the company to guarantee its efficacy.