#chrome delete near me

[atlanticwrapsnc]

Why Chrome Delete is the Hottest Trend in Car Customization Today

Car enthusiasts are always on the lookout for the latest trends to enhance their vehicle’s appearance and performance. One such trend that has gained significant popularity in recent years is chrome delete. This stylish modification involves removing or covering the chrome accents on a vehicle, giving it a sleek, modern look. But what makes chrome delete so appealing, and why is it trending now?

Enhancing Aesthetic Appeal

One of the primary reasons chrome delete has become a favorite among car owners is the dramatic transformation it offers. Chrome accents, while classic, can sometimes appear dated or clash with contemporary design elements. By opting for chrome delete, drivers can achieve a more cohesive and aggressive appearance. The matte or satin finishes often used in chrome delete projects provide a contrast that highlights the car’s lines and contours, making it stand out on the road.

Customization and Personalization

In today’s automotive culture, personalization is key. Car owners want their vehicles to reflect their individual style and personality. Chrome delete offers a versatile way to customize a car’s look without extensive modifications. Whether you prefer a stealthy black finish or a bold color accent, chrome delete can be tailored to match your vision. This flexibility allows for a unique appearance that sets your vehicle apart from others.

Cost-Effective Makeover

Another factor contributing to the rise of chrome delete is its cost-effectiveness compared to other customization options. While high-end modifications can be expensive, chrome delete provides a significant aesthetic upgrade at a more affordable price point. For those in Charlotte, NC, understanding the Chrome delete Charlotte NC cost is essential. The investment is relatively modest, especially when considering the lasting impact it has on your vehicle’s appearance.

Protecting Your Vehicle’s Finish

Beyond aesthetics, chrome delete also offers practical benefits. Removing chrome accents can protect your car’s finish from environmental factors such as salt, grime, and UV rays, which can cause corrosion and fading over time. By opting for a high-quality chrome delete service, you ensure that your vehicle remains in excellent condition, preserving its value and longevity.

Increasing Resale Value

A well-executed chrome delete can enhance your car’s resale value. Potential buyers often appreciate the modernized look and the protection it provides to the vehicle’s exterior. A car with a clean, customized appearance is more attractive in the used car market, potentially leading to a higher selling price.

Finding the Right Service

Choosing the right service provider is crucial for achieving the best results with chrome delete. Searching for chrome delete near me ensures you find local experts who understand the specific needs and preferences of the community.

Chrome delete has rapidly become a top choice for car customization, offering a blend of style, protection, and affordability. Its ability to modernize a vehicle’s appearance while providing practical benefits makes it a standout trend in the automotive world. Whether you’re looking to give your car a sleek new look or protect its exterior, chrome delete is a compelling option worth considering. By understanding the benefits and costs associated with services like chrome delete Charlotte NC, you can make an informed decision that enhances both the beauty and value of your vehicle.

The author specializes in automotive customization and protection, with extensive experience in Paint Protection Films (PPF) and vehicle wraps, chrome deletes, and more. They offer cost-effective solutions to maintain and enhance vehicle aesthetics and performance for car enthusiasts in Charlotte, NC. For more information, visit: https://www.atlanticcustomwraps.com/

[automotivewrap]

Reimagine Your Car’s Appearance: Leading Vehicle Wrap and Chrome Delete Services in Orlando

Discover the Best Vehicle Wrap Shops in Orlando for Premium Car Wrapping Services and Transformative Custom Designs

Find the best vehicle wrap shops in Orlando For great car wrapping services. Our professionals provide quality vehicle wraps that give an enhanced look to your car and protection to the paint. From custom design to a classic touch, our shops in Orlando assure the best craftsmanship and detail in the work. Get the perfect wrap for your car and change its look with our professionals. Check out our listing of the top vehicle wrap shops in Orlando and get your car looking like new today.

Professional car wrapping services and custom designs

High-quality materials and expert craftsmanship

Transform your car’s look with exceptional wraps

Find Reliable Orlando Commercial Car Wrap Services Near Me for Professional Fleet Wrapping and Eye-Catching Business Branding

Looking for Orlando commercial car wrap services near you? Our professionals specialize in high-impact commercial car wraps designed to boost your business’s visibility. From fleet wraps to individual vehicle graphics, we offer durable and eye-catching solutions tailored to your brand’s needs. Enhance your company’s image with our top-quality Orlando commercial car wrap near me, service. Contact us today to find a local wrap provider that delivers exceptional results for your business vehicles.

Get the Best Vehicle Wraps in Orlando with Top-Quality Materials and Exceptional Craftsmanship for Stunning Car Transformations

Get the best vehicle wraps Orlando and give it that sleek, new look. Premium wraps provide fantastic protection and aesthetic appeal, touting the latest in design and technology. Everything from full to partial wrapping to custom graphics, our Orlando-based team promises nothing but the highest quality installation with quality materials. Give your vehicle a makeover with the best wraps in Orlando and make them stand out on the road. Take a look below for some services offered and how we can make your car stylish today.

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Professional Chrome Delete Services Near You for Sleek Vehicle Upgrades and Modern Black Trim Applications

Transform your vehicle with chrome delete services near you. Our professional team specializes in removing chrome trim and replacing it with sleek, black accents for a modern look. Chrome delete not only enhances your car’s appearance but also adds a touch of sophistication and style. Find local experts who provide high-quality chrome delete near me services and give your vehicle a fresh, custom upgrade. Contact us to learn more about how chrome delete can redefine your car’s aesthetic.

Remove chrome trim and apply sleek black accents

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Comprehensive Vinyl Wrap Services for Cars: High-Quality Custom Wraps, Designs, and Protection for Your Vehicle

Explore our vinyl wrap services to transform the look of your vehicle. Vinyl wraps offer a versatile, cost-effective solution for customizing your car’s appearance. Whether you’re interested in a full wrap, partial wrap, or unique graphics, our team provides high-quality vinyl wraps that deliver exceptional results. Choose from a variety of finishes and colors to achieve the exact look you want. Enhance your vehicle’s style and protect its paint with our professional vinyl wrap services.

Find Expert Vehicle Wrap Services Near Me for Professional Car Wrapping Solutions and Stunning Vehicle Makeovers

Take your car’s look to the next level with top-rated vehicle wrap near me services. Our local experts offer superior car wraps that enhance both appearance and protection. From a stylish new design to a full vehicle wrap, our team over-delivers on craftsmanship and customer service. Find vehicle wrap options near you. Get your car looking its best with our expert wrapping solutions. Contact the local ‘wrap shop near me’ today for more information.

[acceler8wraps]

Find the Best Auto Detail Shop in Laguna Hills, California

Although maintaining your vehicle regularly is one part of keeping it in the best shape due to its full value and great cosmetic look, riding with comfort whenever you hit on-road. Whether you are getting ready for a special wedding, putting your car up for sale or just wanting to give it the attention that is deserves finding an auto detail shop can be difficult. If you've been Googling "auto detail shops near me" or searching for places to have your car detailed in Laguna Hills, California then ACCELER8 WRAPS is the place as well! Read on to see why we are your vehicle handbag trustworthy dealer.

Why Detailing Is Important for Your Car?

Auto detailing is deeper than a regular car wash, as it involves an overall clean-up and enhancement process to get your vehicle that show room fresh appearance. So why should an AUTO DETAILING SERVICE ALSO BE A RECURRING MAINTENANCE provided for your vehicle?

Maintain Resale Value for Your Vehicle: If left unprotected, dirt, mud and contaminants can ruin the appearance of your vehicle’s interior and exterior over time. Likewise, professional detailing also helps to keep the paint and upholstery of the vehicle in excellent condition which ensures it maintains its value for years.

Improve the Beauty: The beauty of your vehicle is given to it by detailing. Detailing is the method by which you can take from a fine exterior to an excellent interior of your car. As such, this is one of the maintenance protocols that matter especially if you're trying to attract buyers or sell your car.

Security and Peace of Mind: Most detailing services also provide protective measures, like waxing, sealants or even coatings that protect your vehicle from the elements (sun damage) rain road particles etc. This protection will prevent long-term damage and allows for a newer look over the years.

Increase Comfort and Hygiene: They say, 'home is where the heart lies', well, I like to think that our second home these days -for many of us- are cars. This involves cleaning the interior in depth, getting rid of dust as well as allergens and eliminating any odors there might be inside, ensuring that your vehicle is both cleaner but more importantly healthier for all passengers on board.

An Eye for Detail: The little things that get missed when you clean your car — like those pesky vents, seams and crevices are taken care of by professional detailers. This detailed care guarantees every part of your car gets the proper sanitization and treatment.

Why ACCELER8 WRAPS for Auto Detailing?

The average auto detailing shop concerts between ten and twelve cars in one day. This is why ACCELER8 WRAPS would be the best option for "auto detail shops near me" and "car detail shop in Laguna Hills, CA".

Experience and Expertise: ACCELER8 WRAPS has years in experience with auto detailing industry. We know the nuances of various types of vehicles and their materials to give your car the highest level of care.

All-encompassing services: We provide polishing and wax application for your car exterior, as well as deep cleaning and aesthetic care of the interior. From general spritz and shine to comprehensive detailing work, we can do it all.

Our Professional-grade equipment: From the tools and products, we use to detail your vehicle. With our top-of-the-line equipment we can deliver results that simply cannot be matched and will have your car coming out looking like it did when you first bought it!

Detail Oriented Treat your car as if it was our own at ACCELER8 WRAPS — same attention and care given every time. We know every car is special in its own way, so we customize the services to your needs and liking.

Schedule Your Auto Detailing Appointment Today! If you are in search of the top “auto detail shops near me” or even if searching for an auto-detailing buff out at car detail shops near Laguna Hills, California, just know that ACCELER8 WRAPS is your sweet escape. Head to https://acceler8wraps.com/ for more information on our detailing services and schedule an appointment, now! We are prepared to deliver the highest level of cleaning and protection for your vehicle, so it retains its value, comfortable feel as well appearance. Your car at least deserves this!

[energyprison]

Taken from a reddit comment, but you can get ublock working again, for now at least, by turning off the quick fixes option. It worked for me. In case you need to know how exactly:

1: Go to your Extensions (if on Chrome re-enable the Extensions you want, and take care not to let Chrome Remove them). Both Chrome & Firefox have these options, Firefox just doesn't try to trick you into Deleting your Extensions.

2: Click on the Extension, and find the "Extension Options" menu.

3: Click on "Filter Lists" (probably up at the top).

4: Click the first " ^ " dropdown arrow in the list, which will expand the Options.

5: The "Quick fixes" Setting should be near the top, in the "Built-In" category.

it seems to have resolved without me needing to do anything but for anybody still having trouble. you can skip steps 1&2 by just going straight to the ublock options menu from your toolbar

[thessalian]

Thess vs The Most Annoying Reprieve

So I stepped out and picked up the big pain meds, because dear gods did I need them, and came back to an issue that on one level has freed me from overtime today but on the other hand has ensured that my weekend will be a living hell.

See, I left my machine locked down but turned on, because the time it takes for that annoying piece of plastic to boot up is not to be borne. But when I switched it back on, I noticed that Google Chrome (the browser I pretty much have to use on my machine; no one's letting me install Firefox, apparently) had switched itself off ... and the icon was missing from the desktop. I clicked onto where I had it pinned to the taskbar and got, "Sorry, this .exe has been moved or deleted. Do you want to delete this shortcut?"

...wut.

So I did a restart, which did nothing. Then I went hunting in the start menu ... and there was a Google folder, but no .exe, and I wasn't even allowed to open the error log folder. So that was a bust. Now, of course, the stupid machine does have Microsoft Edge on it as default, so I decided to try that. So it accepted my credentials, but then said, essentially, "Sorry, but you're not allowed to access this site with this browser".

......WUT.

Tried the version of Chrome on the remote desktop where our transcription software lives, but I got the same basic thing. So apparently it has to be through the main desktop, and through Chrome, or I'm not allowed to access it. And Chrome vanished without trace for no apparent reason.

This is apparently a thing, though. Having searched here on my main computer, one suggestion is to restart the machine four times. I guess I'll try that while I type this. But the likelihood seems to be that I am getting a reprieve from overtime tonight, with a view to even worse overtime tomorrow, Friday, and possibly over the weekend. Why do I say "possibly over the weekend"? Because yet again, everyone's leaving the long shit for me to deal with, and working unbelievably slowly. Goblin was in for about half the day today and she took all the short things that people put into the queue between 2-3pm yesterday afternoon, leaving all the Monstrosities from the Breast Guy, the Placenta Guy, this new woman who is absolute shit at GI reports, and several others that were put into the queue between 11:45 and 2pm. Goblin left those. New Girl left those. Scruffman left those. Even Milady, who's usually better than that, left those. Temp still isn't in, but she would have left them too. And I am so. Very. Tired of being left with all of it.

Honestly, I'm just tired in general. We have 375 items in the queue right now. Most of that seems to fall on me, and I am fed right up. Also I hurt. And the restart upon restart upon restart doesn't seem to have done anything so it's going to be up to IT to reinstall or fix whatever update bullshit caused this mess. So while I at least don't have to near-on kill myself typing tonight, I have to sit with the sure and certain knowledge that tomorrow, and Friday, and possibly the weekend, are going to be worse. Because no one in that fucking office is going to even try to get us onto an even keel except me.

I swear to the gods, I read through that fucking competency assessment form that we're apparently self-assessing, and realised how much they fucking shouldn't be. There was a whole section on prioritising in chronological order except for urgent cases, and nobody does that shit but me. Worst part is, not only is it very clear they know that, but they take advantage of it to stick me with the bullshit. (I understand with Scruffman, I admit - he's having to do the manager work too and can't afford to be stuck in a ten minute Monstrosity from Breast Guy when an urgent call comes up needing him to browse away from a half-done document to look up a case on the system. The rest of them? The rest of them are just awful.) Anyway, summary is that their self-assessment is all going to be, "We're fine; we know what we're doing" when they FUCKING DO NOT. No wonder they get away with murder.

So I've replaced working myself to death tonight with stressing myself to death tonight over probably having to work myself to death for several more days upcoming, and probably having to cancel my Saturday D&D afuckinggain, because no one in my office seems to give much of a fuck that we are dealing with patient's lives here. I know it sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not. Another part of the competency assessment was "Hey, you do realise that if you screw around or fuck up, it could cause serious damage to the patients' lives, right?" And they're all going to answer, "Yep, I totally understand" and then just ... continue their lazy-ass way through this, and leave me as the only person in the office who understands what we actually do.

Sometimes I wish I still drank. I technically can, but that hits too hard with my meds, so I don't. I guess hot bath, sort out something about dinner, maybe see if the hurt stops enough to do anything but slump in a chair? I typed this mostly in the spirit of, "If I don't vent, I am going to punch a wall" ... and while that would at least give me a break, we can't afford that right now, and it would hurt, and I play games with those hands, so...

[karen-chin]

bad news - chain store near me is confirmed to be closing in 5 days // good news - line kinda works on chrome yay

Drawn on 20240924

Photo – DELETER NEOPIKO-Line-3 Sepia 005 + Watercolor on Moleskine Watercolour Album Large Art Collection

[kharonion]

I would like to hear about Purgatory 👀👀👀

[ ask about my WIPs ]

Whoof, this is probably the most Angsty and Rough WIP currently. It's already made me cry a few times... oops. Purgatory is the telling of the infamous Rooftop Scene, but for Vikt's specific canon story. And... it's as heart-wrenching as it might already sound. This happens near endgame, so Vikt is at a point where he is severely struggling to maintain even a granule of hope; he's exhausted all options, stuck with this death sentence he has no clue what to do about. It's ugly, frankly...

SNIPPET—WARNING, THIS IS ROUGH; TW for depression and dangerous ideation:

“V.”

“What.”

“Talk to me. Because I know you’re—”

“You don’t fucking know shit, Johnny.” 

He sulks in the cheap chair. Makes it creak under his weight, but hell if he cares. Doesn’t care about much anymore, brain fried to the point he can hardly register where he even is; the only clues it’s a rooftop are the faint whooshes of a breeze, the rare absence of the city stench. 

Johnny perches, overlooks the cityscape. He’s gotten more real by the day. His chrome now gleams in the neon lights. His eyes are a definitive brown—and they’ve not stopped looking at him. Big and sad, like a puppy dog.

Vikt can’t bring himself to return the gaze.

He’s a dead man walking, they say—some go so far as to throw out the word zombie. Pulled back from the brink enough times to count on two hands. People call him… lucky. Makes Vikt sick. Pisses him off. 

He sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it. 

Not when he’s lost damn near everyone his cold, dark heart has opened up to. When he now has to visit their graves, stare longingly at the names he can’t bring himself to delete from his contact list in the hopes they’ll pick up when he calls.

Not when he’s a monster of Arasaka’s creation who has ruined so many lives with his own two hands. When he’s worn innocent blood like a second skin and thought nothing of it.

Not when he sits here so close to death he tastes it on his tongue—a disgusting copper, so thick it’s leaden in his throat. A dread he can’t swallow. A hopelessness gnawing at the few nerves his brain has left. His heart aches, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the cloud of despair or the way his heart struggles to keep him alive.

The pistol rests right there. Its metal is glittering like a beacon. His eyes won’t leave it. Vaguely, he knows his fingers twitch; they’re craving its weight in the palm of his hand. Something tugs at him, pulls his hand toward it ever so slowly… This is your way out. This is your solace, your release. This is what’s best—for everyone.

“Fuck you doing, V?” Johnny’s snap is enough for Vikt’s eyes to dart away and finally lock with the engram’s stare.

“Thinking.”

“Well, cut it out. You’re makin’ me nervous.”

Vikt scoffs. “What? What happened to just taking what’s yours, J? Wiping me out so you can live happily fucking after?”

[phagodyke]

soooo national geographic have prevented ppl from disabling javascript to access their paywalled 'subscriber-exclusive' articles by adding an overlay which causes the article to disappear the further u scroll down... so for fun I've typed up a quick guide (below) for how to read them for free by doing a little html/css editing! normally I wouldn't bother bc you can still access the text thru saving as a webpage or 12ft.io, but this way does have the added bonus of keeping the original page formatting + images (there's often a lot of pretty photography in nat geo... + added bonus of not seeing the annoying 'unauthorised use is prohibited' messages every other paragraph). this is probably common knowledge to a lot of ppl but just thought I'd share for any less tech-fluent mutuals! enjoy <3

how to read national geographic 'subscriber exclusive' articles for free with html/css editing ;^)

paywalls suck + piracy rules! information should be for everyone. go wild.

all instructions are for firefox but I tested on a couple other browsers (edge/opera/chrome) & it worked there too!

step 1: (open page inspector) right-click + select 'inspect' or use either of the shortcuts: ctrl + shift + i or ctrl + shift + c. or you can navigate to it by clicking on the drop-down menu in the top right corner of your browser and going to ‘more tools -> developer settings’

step 2: (removes the page lock, allowing you to scroll down) navigate to 'inspector'. underneath the head section is a line beginning '<body class="Scroll--locked...' click on this then go to 'element' + untick both 'overflow:hidden' & 'position:fixed'. alternatively, you can double click on the line and manually delete both elements.

if not using firefox: ‘inspector’ may be called ‘elements’ instead… click the line ‘<body data-interaction-type…’ then go to the styles tab below + untick 'overflow:hidden' & 'position:fixed’

step 3: (removes the subscription popup box) – I found 2 ways of doing this, I’ll include them both:

method a: delete whole section of code starting '<div class="bp-mobileMDPlus...' by clicking on it + hitting the del button. make sure the little triangle points -> beforehand so that everything in that section gets deleted, if its expanded (pointing down) then just click it to close it first, otherwise you’ll have to delete every open line individually (specifically removes the paywall checking element. can be found easily by right-clicking the subscription box + selecting 'inspect' - the page inspector should navigate to the right line of code or near enough)

method b – firefox only(?): navigate to 'style editor', and hide natgeo.css by clicking the eye icon (slightly quicker method but will change formatting of some other elements, e.g., banner at top)

step 4: (removes the article overlay which causes text to fade to blank further in the article) delete the line of code '<div class="Article_Content_Overlay--gated"></div>’ by clicking on it + hitting the del button (can be found easily by scrolling down the article, right-clicking text + selecting 'inspect')

full article should now be readable! once you know what you’re doing it only takes ~30 secs

some other notes:

any edits will be undone when you refresh the page as they’re only temporarily altering the way you view the web page - so don’t hit refresh until you've finished reading!

I did this on firefox but it should work on any browser with minimal differences in the method. I've tested on opera/edge/chrome and all have worked fine for me

if you want to read nat geo articles that are NOT ‘subscriber exclusive’ but you've run out of 'free articles': this method will work for them too - but you don't need to do step 4! (the fading article overlay seems to be subscriber-exclusive…) however just temporarily disabling javascript is faster + works fine as long as there’s no overlay:

to disable javascript on firefox type about:config into the search bar. you’ll get a warning that you’re entering advanced preferences. accept this then search for ‘javascript.enabled’ and toggle from ‘true’ to ‘false’ using the little arrow switch. refresh your article page et voila! just remember to toggle it back once you’re done. this is my go-to for reading paywalled nyt articles ;-)

idk how to do this on other browsers and cba to check. google it man

you can also use 12ft.io for nat geo! much easier but doesn’t preserve og format

disclaimer I am not some tech wizard I am just a guy with a laptop who loves piracy and hates paywalls. there are tons of alternative ways of getting around them + this probably isn’t the most elegant but it works for me so! godspeed comrades <3

[highsviolets]

ne plus ultra

summary: you encounter acclaimed scholar obi-wan kenobi after an academic conference

rating: mature (not explicit)

notes: all my love and affection to brit and mia. @profkenobi​ you are my prompt muse & @goldenkenobi​ you win many awards by listening to my endless rambles about this fic. // CHAPTER TWO 

ne plus ultra (n). 

(1) the highest point capable of being attained 

(2) the most profound degree of a quality or state

the story starts in medias res, as all lives do. the beginning of your life is always in the middle of someone else’s. your death coincides with another’s gallant ebullience, your semi-colon failing to incise upon their life. so the scholars say.

the conference — your first since you passed your dissertation — had made you nervous, and you were glad to be spending an extra night before returning to the real world tomorrow.

your palms are slick, as they always are after too long spent in the company of other academics. the anxiety that swells in you is ballast and the deadweight forces you to slump forward slightly, the visible seam on your the shoulder of your shirt sashaying inwards.

when you smile at the concierge, it is tight, like a formation of soldiers in Napoleon’s day, and does not quite reach your eyes. still decked with traces of freckles and darkened by a summer spent abroad under the sun’s penetrating gazes, your skin fails to comply with demands of minuscule muscles pulling and stretching, commanding it into a thin arc.

but it is no matter — you receive your key and you sign the paperwork and are ascending the winding staircase to the seventh floor. emerald green carpet is your guide, swathing your ascendancy in a sheen of dark-hue velvet. sir gawain chasing after the knight in green armor, a lecture on virtue streaming from the knight’s mouth, materializes on the steps. the galloping thought makes you smile, this time more relaxed. that story is something you know. something you know so well you could almost touch it. indeed you had fingered its pages, during your apprenticeship at the British Library.

hope. the words springs forth, nearly unbidden, from your lips. the word is spoken so softly — merely a breath and a hint of sound disturbing the stairwell’s precious physics. it is a reflex of association. green means hope, the scholars had said, and during the course of your studies you had been disappointed to find that you agreed with them. you did not want to agree with the fashionably smug expert in the field. you wanted to rattle him. shake him to his sacrosanct core, the sanctimonious scum.

you had never met the man: the mysterious OWK. your advisor had raved about his breakout lecture series that had taken place years ago, when he was a newly minted phd and you were still in undergrad. sipping a cup of cafeteria coffee (they always forgot you preferred tea, all these years later), they had rambled on about the poetry of OWK’s phrasing and his decisiveness in speech and the unparalleled skill of his primary source research. the lectures had been sadly lost, the footage deleted, or archived, they didn’t know which. just that the man had refused to distribute them and speak on the matter further, nearly abandoning academia entirely.

the beverage was bitter but you laughed lightly. “is this thomas moore and his lectures on st. augustine, then? so legendary that no one can find them?”

your advisor had inclined their head, congratulating you on your witty reference. “i suppose so,” they had mused, leaning back in their office chair and staring at some point above your head, at the oaken bookshelves with brightly colored book jackets lining the walls. “now, your latest draft—“

the memory fades as your purpose alters. a simple twist of the key and the door opens. but you remain on the threshold, stuck between two modes, between here and there.

there is a man in your room, and he is as handsome as sin. he sits in a chair in the corner of the room and one leg is resting on the other’s kneecap at a ninety degree angle. he is wearing glasses, and has short auburn hair that gleams in the dull light of the lamp beside him (although, a few wayward strands obscure his eyes, layering over the frame of his glasses). he is reading. the cover is folded over so you cannot see the title but it is hefty, judging from its position on his thigh. shadows have formed over high cheekbones.

the man removes himself from the task, focusing his gaze on you. you see now that he has bright blue eyes.

“hello there!” his greeting is polite, and amiable, and accented, though not pleasantly so. “can i help you?”

“I’m afraid there seems to be a mix-up!” you say in your ‘adult voice.’ it’s same one you used on your dissertation defense. “it seems we were placed in the same room.”

“ah.” he nods sagely, as though this were to be expected, and unfolds himself from his chair.

you place a hand on your hip — near the phone snug in the back pocket of your jeans — and shrug. “I’m sorry.” the apology is saccharine and tastes like grenadine. “I’ll pop back downstairs and find out what the problem is.”

he urges you to stay, to let him call from here rather you lugging your things all the way down and all the way back up again. “it’s not proper,” he insists, dragging you in and closing the door behind you. in the time that his is so near to you and you feel the way his frown matches the steady grip on your upper arm, something warms in you at his indignation. your hand drifts away from your phone. he retreats to his corner to make the call while you linger just beyond the threshold.

the conversation is hushed and decorated with the raised tones of inquiry. when he hangs up, he sighs.

“they were under the impression that we were a married couple. apparently we booked under a similar last name.” his voice turns down at the edges. he sounds the way his frown had earlier: weary, confused, and a dash of inexplicable certainty.

“but—“ you gesture to the beds — “two beds?”

something of a grimace shadows his face. “all that was available, apparently.”

“oh.” there is a pause. he does not continue. “but they got me a room, right?” if you sound slightly desperate, perhaps it is because you are. you are sweaty. you are nervous. you want to relax. in your own room.

he zooms past your query. “i know you,” he says, and sounds as if he is surprised he knows how to speak.

“i —“ you shake your head — “i don’t think so.”

when you give your name and recognition fails to present itself, he falters and twists to stare through the glass behind him. “i thought…” but he breaks off.  in the end he rights himself and tells you of the situation — how there is no vacancy, but he does not mind the sharing a room with you, just for the night, it wouldn’t be a bother.

there is something different about him. maybe it is the way that he emphasized the word can. maybe it is the way he is pushing the hair from his eyes, and removing the glasses from his face. maybe it is the way that, now pausing his actions, the man cants his head and furrows his brow.

air grows thick with the brush strokes of caravaggio: he is in the spotlight, sure and solid and steady, pure against the whirlpools of unknowing realism.

you are on the cusp of stepping into his white light when he offers his name. the first letter of each word drags itself from his mouth and burrows into your ear, until you almost divorce the meaning but for the particulars.

the first instinct that you are aware of is one you cannot name — it is an anger that is sweet, and one that is shielded by sadness, yet fueled by frustration.

there are dozens of others that your heart and mind have already examined, of course, turning them this way and that, inspecting their corners with bloodied hands. but they are rejected, and expelled into the waxy shadows, without your being aware of them. that is the job of the soul: to know before you are even aware.

he senses the shift. perhaps uncertainty has clouded your eyes. obi-wan kenobi, OWK, takes a step back from rising mist and shadow and once more turns to gaze out the window. through the glass there is a gentle village scene, all cobblestones and iron street lamps and hills keeping time on the horizon.

“i — “ you start, but you stop again. you must start, you feel, but you do not know what path to take, and you halt. the time he thinks you consider you are in fact not considering at all. there is only one answer (answers that are wrong are never really answers, after all, just more questions).

“i’ll stay.”

—

Obi-Wan is courteous and deferential and demands that you permit him to treat you this evening as an apology. he departs to give you privacy as you shower, and the flash of shimmering emerald carpet you spy as he exits makes you wonder if you are the Lady Bertalik to his Sir Gawain.

the steam and the water beat down clenched muscles with gentle hands and lingering touches. it is for several minutes that you linger in their warm embrace, but as you wipe away fog from the mirror you cannot help but encounter the sensation that you are alone, and wrongfully so. you cannot feel Obi-Wan’s presence and the air feels stale without him — like there is no current disrupting the atmosphere’s mundane course.

droplets decorate your shoulders and the hollow of your throat. they hold fast even when you pad softly to your belongings for a fresh change of clothes.

The ache in this room is stronger. The walls themselves are mourning his absence. You feel it settle in your gut, a gluttonous mass that lightens when you consider that he should be returning soon. the sky outside the window is orange and gold, flattering the leaves of maple trees in autumn.

the room is pretty, in a simple way: the emerald carpet of hope has been exchanged for a darkened hardwood. Chrome accents gleam in the reflection of the wood, and two beds — one at opposite ends of the wall — are smothered silver-white sheets. a series of Malevich paintings are hung up in a neat grid, as though the dissembling artist would come barging in, screaming of the devil, if the French theories of symmetry were not obeyed.

as you dress and begin to comb your hair, you wonder why you miss someone whom you have just met, and someone you are not disposed to like. can you miss someone you don’t like? he is sporadic and paradisiacal; in motion and steady. his kindness had surprised you, as had his beauty. he was less corrosive than your advisor had made him out to be, less ambitious than the accolades awarded to his name. but he is zealous, hungry, seeking: you could see in the way his eyes bunched around the edges, in the crick of his neck when he sought wisdom from the hills, how he had contorted his body in the chair.

(he is like you, both here and not here, and although you did not yet know, your soul was aware and reflective in wonder)

when your flesh-and-blood sir gawain returns, you muse that you are a poor temptress in an thick-knit ivory sweater that encases your body from neck to wrists. it had been a steal from a second-hand store a few years back, and you had never found the heart to give it up. it was like a childhood book, or a favorite mug — the object, in all its durable materiality, was akin to you.

Your smile pleases him. Obi-Wan says he has found a place for this evening, nothing special, but nice. “We are celebrating after all,” he says, shrugging off a dark woolen coat.

“We are?” you look at him through the reflection of the mirror. blue eyes meet yours.

“Of course!” the phrase suspends itself for a moment, maybe two, as though it is waiting for something to slip in and complete its trinity. but it falls, tumbling back down to terrestrial concerns. “We are celebrating our meeting.”

He is absurd, and you laugh. Obi-Wan’s theory of festivity is not so mercurial as his speech — the declaration sticks to your ribs, pumping blood to your heart and flooding your cheeks with a natural flush.

Obi-Wan continues to examine you. “Might I ask,” he starts, hands stilling in their expedition of finding suitable attire, “where you bought your sweater?”

you respond: it was from a second-hand store, you found it during your apprenticeship, it was the only thing that kept you warm that terribly dreary winter, it was your constant companion.

“does it have a trio of red threads on the left cuff?”

satisfying his quench takes precedence to mystery of his request.

Obi-Wan’s smile engulfs the spirit of the room, and the two of you, and the bedding, and the glass window, too.

“that was my sweater,” he says. “my uncle made it for me, and i gave it to my brother after we adopted him. he wasn’t used to the dampness of English winters, but he didn’t like the itchiness of the knit. he always had an aversion to gritty textures.” he reaches out a hand with a faint smile, like the combined power of his simple offering can cross space and time and memory and return him to the days of him and his uncle and adopted brother.

you do not know what to say. you watch him for several moments. you want to speak, but your mind is blank, thrumming with the idea that it is so very right that part of him has been with part of you all of these years. parts have him has seen you through the long hours of a dreary apprenticeship and discovering the healing properties of English tea and catching tears and wisps of smiles and witnessing ink spill over pages as you churned out dissertation drafts until the argument was smooth and refined.

the idea makes you feel very alive, and alert, and you want to offer him comfort. “would you like to take it back?” one hand tugs at the edge of the cloth, near your waist. “it’s yours anyway.” the pain of parting is lessened by the joy of giving.

he demurs, you coax. eventually it is determined that he will wear the garment for the evening, but only if you wear something of his, too. “that way it’s even,” he says, and you laugh again to hide the dip in your stomach at thought of wearing something of his, of wrapping yourself in his scent, of placing your body in a place his had once inhabited.

you settle on a light gray blazer that you think must compliment his eyes, which sparkle with aquamarine and crystal. it is paired with a turtleneck and when you emerge to show him the completed ensemble, spinning in a circle, he chuckles.

“you look like me,” he says, one hand cupping his chin.

a feeling pulses in your mind but you let it go. you may like him after all, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a pompous academic whose theories had made your life hell.

—

you expect him to take you to a cozy place. somewhere where they serve the local brew and make homemade shepherd’s pie, but he doesn’t.

he takes you a bar that is sleek and modern, with soft yellow lights and paneled ceilings and marble counter-tops. Obi-Wan escorts you to a high table in the corner, a hand on the small of your back. the warmth from his palm spreads through his jacket and your turtleneck and it feels like cinnamon and candlelight.  

later, you will not remember what you ordered to eat, but you will always remember the two cups water that appear on the table.

the glasses have smooth edges and and rounded sides, curving around themselves ad infinitum or perhaps reductio ad absurdum. faint golden orbs hunch against the surface; integers of light cling to any sort of tactical reassurance. even the glass will do.

the cups are hefty, and not just with the font of life. the vessel is weighty, durable. Obi-Wan tells you that they are recycled.

he does not talk about what he does now and how he teaches, and you do not mention your work. you do not need to: what these truths have taught you is in every swallow, every glance, every gentle barb. the two of you do not need shields of citation guidelines to understand one another.

the conversation dances. he pulls you in with a question. you twirl around him, brushing his five o’clock shadow. artifice glistens and then falls away. with every pass and dip and pas de chat resentment and assumption weaken, and your eyes become bigger. he changes the time signature, the style (first it was a waltz, and then a swing step, and now it is easing into something unknown). the fabric of his jacket is smooth, and comfortable, and smells like him — warm and spice and clean. you ease into it like it is your birthright.

you do not see, but Obi-Wan notices, and grins into his water.

he does not see, but you notice, the way he couches into your sweater, and your eyes curl in some form of elation.

“what were they about? the lectures, i mean.” this is the question you have been waiting to ask. here, in the bar, with glass, you are emboldened to let go of one last grudge.

he looks at you, and his gaze stabs you, but then it softens — like the needle from a shot easing into muscle before retreating as swiftly as it came.

“what did your advisor say they were about?” he fiddles with his glass.

“they said…” you close your eyes in recollection. eyelashes flutter against freckles. “they said the lectures were about grief.”

Obi-Wan’s smile is wry, but he does not seem displeased. he is still too relaxed to be angry. how you can read his body language so quickly, you are not sure — maybe it is because he is wearing your sweater. so many things you are unsure of, but he is not one of them. not really.

uncertainty is different with him. he is not an ever-fix��d mark, nor a staid anchor in the waves. but he is resolved, and you can separate him from the rest of the particulars that impede your life. he is not just krei: distinguishing and judging and explanatory and crisis all at once, all at everything.

yes, uncertainty with him is less about judgment and is rather imbued with mystery. it is krei mixed with mysteriam: separating the hidden things from that which is known.

Obi-Wan taps his finger on the glass and the sound returns you to the present. he has caught you wandering, again, wandering the wayward halls of esoteric remembrance.

“they were about grief,” he nods, staring at the transparent material in his hands.. Obi-Wan’s voice is kingly and aromatic, like basil. it lilts and sways around the words he speaks as in a courtly dance, like those Anne Boleyn performed for King Henry.

lifting his gaze to yours again, he adds, “and they were about joy. those lectures were about everything, and nothing.” a hand rises, and rhythmic fingers sweep away invisible cobwebs. “they were,” Obi-Wan concludes, “about life itself. phenomena, as it were.” the hand floats down and rests on the table.

it is perilously close to yours now: mere inches from the edges of your body. you both look down at his hand in a brief moment marked and scratched with silence, and you are alone with  your thoughts. his hands are worn, like they have been used — little scars and wrinkles and a slight puffiness that tells you that he spent a lot of time writing today. you like that.

you point to the swelling, at the v of his hand where thumb and palm meet. the tip of your index finger hovers above the spot and your confession must linger too, because it takes several moments for him to drag his eyes upwards to study your face.

“how many ACE wraps did you fray while writing your dissertation?” he asks, and you want to push him for being such a competitive brat.

your hand is still suspended above his.

you tell him your answer, and he cups his fingers around yours in a spasm of revelation. “me too!” his grip tightens. “academia is one son of a bitch.” he catches you in a sideways glance, and when you laugh, he relaxes into a smile.

“I read your dissertation, you know.” the sweater itches against your wrist, where the sleeve of his blazer has ridden up and exposed skin.

“i didn’t.” you take a sip. “but i do know how you feel about scholars such as myself.” another sip. are you biding time? you are not sure. “you feel very strongly about the color green, Dr. Kenobi.”

his grip slackens but he does not release your hand completely. “please. call me ben.”

“no?” your eyebrow arches. “not OWK, either?”

“I don’t use that name with friends.”

“Are we friends?”

his eyes are earnest, open, porous, like blue tulle on ballet costumes. “yes. i dare say we are.”

—

when the two of you stand to leave, there is a still a table that prohibits unity. emptiness subsumes you; he is so near and yet so far; Ben should be next to you. the distance continues, grows, as you exit, and an ache pours forth from your soul, because you now know what you did not know before. you had seen it in the glass, and in the reflected light, and the way you had seen yourself in his eyes when you danced with him without touching his hand.

you halt, he pauses. you take a step forward and Ben watches you. darkness blankets the town’s cobbled streets; the stones gleam dully and swallow the street lamps all into an abyss. except his eyes: Ben’s silken azure eyes are your anchor.

people don’t make sense but you do.

a few steps more and the two of you are very close. you tilt your head to look at his face. you are there, reflected in his pupils. “maybe i am you.” you mean for it to sound teasing, but your soul knows before you do, and the words are laden with imperial import, like a royal seal.

those gemstone eyes flicker over your face. he has felt it too, he is telling you, but how you know this you cannot say. “no, i do not think so.” letters drip out, leaking in a slow stream. “but i think perhaps we are a part of each other.”

and then you have narrowed down the sum to its composite parts. the glass has shattered and the left hand swims in its sand and calcium carbonate and ash, drifting through a process of becoming. particles glimmer on skin, under nails, brandishing depth and texture and a pantone coloring book of the human heart.  

it is a mutual kiss, one where individualism no longer endures. his hands — swollen, calloused, firm — are grasping your cheeks. your arms are around his waist, winding around sweater and skin and soul. when you close your eyes, you think it will be dark. you are wrong. tenebrism creeps away and shadows vanish, and there is only him, and a resounding tenor of colors.

ben’s lips are soft, and his breath is warm, and it is the kiss for which you feel like you have spent your whole life preparing. he is safe (tender) and unexpected (his tongue grazes your teeth). he likes it when you grip him harder, the knit no longer coarse against your palms, not when his hand is wandering through your hair in flashes of blue and gold and pearl.

when you pull away, and nuzzle his cheek, Ben smiles — soft and comforting like the garment on his back. maybe this is why glass shatters and cracks around your feet, crunching as you sway slightly in each other’s arms — you have worn his jacket, and he has worn your sweater.

—

it is predawn the next time he kisses you. the two of you are on his bed, near the window. sweaters and blazers have been exchanged for baggy t-shirts and sleep shorts. Ben is facing you, cross-legged on the pale sheets, and he watches you as you take in the metamorphosis of the sky, from black to navy to the merest smidgen of blue and grey on the horizon, skating across the silhouette of the hills.

he watches you as you speak, too, about the way you loved the ocean as a child, and your favorite book is Moby Dick. it was so very ethereal to you, the way that sailors used the stars to navigate. it was like they were communing with the heavens.

Ben thinks that your voice glitters. it is weary with much talk and too little sleep but it shines the way diamonds do when they are stitched onto spanish lace, supported with the strength that is only found in delicacy.

your eyes, he thinks, are more like satin, for the way they gleam and mix their depth and shadows without losing their sheen, glassy in their wonder.

but you notice his regard, and you pause. he cannot see it, but he can feel a blush jogging from your neck to your cheeks.

you stare at each other. and then — he is next to you, and laying you down, and you are learning his labyrinthine ways even as you begin to come undone.

he is coming alive, or waking up—you’re not sure. his ends and beginnings are still a unknown to you: you must fashion yourself a mystic to enter his realm. somehow you suspect he is yours. your alpha and omega, the moral force that has driven you forward to now, to this point, where his forehead is meeting the jut of your jaw as he kisses his way down your neck.

you are hot and cold all at once and when he licks your pulse point, and sucks, you gasp. it is a gentle thing, more like a deep breath than an exclamation. you feel yourself leaning into him, straining for his touch. his auburn hair under your fingertips is soft and slick with his gel and you tug at it in an act of encouragement.

he pulls away. hovering over you, eyes blue and silver in the pale light — twin moons, perhaps — he smirks. “are you trying to tell me something, darling?” he asks lowly, and his voice is dark molasses. it is sticky and sweet and bitter, inching down your body. you want his kisses to follow its tortuous path, staining you with vermillion and black and dying you with pleasure.

he is color. you are cloth.

the durability of your nature returns in a rush marked with grains of steel. “no.” you swallow and the action traces where his lips met your skin just moments earlier. “i rather thought you were trying to communicate with me.” you sound ragged, coy, on the verge of aching.

Ben does not take your bait. “i was.” his breath is hot against your ear, and arresting. he pauses. the molasses continues to drip. “i was just wanted to make sure i had a clear answer.” and he nips your earlobe. you bite your lip in response: the two of you are in sync.  

“yes.” you are fabric, and your voice is terrycloth.

“Yes?” he repeats your fiat. Shards of glass collapse around you as he again meets your gaze.

this must be how the Virgin prayed her Magnificat, you think as his heart errantly beats against his throat. She must have been like he is now, brimming with humble righteousness and bound by understanding. Tenderness cords through you; it tempers your breathing, smoothes the bubbles of molasses. Reaching up to to cup his face, you let your fingers splay over his cheek, resting on stubble and skin. your pinky finger meets the angle of his cheekbone. the image falls into place and the symmetry causes you to smile.

“yes. etiam. ja. sí.” you are about to conclude in greek — ναί — but he halts your litany of assent by placing an offering on your lips. the greek is in the twists of his tongue in your mouth, and so is the hebrew, and the arabic, and all the languages yet to engrave themselves in your memory.

it is like the first time you experienced champagne at your father’s christmas party. one of his students had poured you, then sixteen, a glass and said with a wink, “the monks declared it was the taste of the stars.” you had raised the flute to your lips and drank as you were bid, and when you had swallowed, you knew the world was different now. or perhaps the old world had not changed, you had merely adapted to fickle ways.

your tongue did as it had then, skating across your front teeth onto your upper lips in quick, jabbing motions. unsatiated and incomplete.

he pulls away again and you frown. eyes closed, you tug at his shoulder in a nonverbal ask to come back.

silence meets your plea and you open your eyes. he is still above you, weight resting on his forearms, and he is smiling.  “you are so impatient.” the rebuke is fond and he soothes its burn with a kiss to your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, briefly.

“i am not impatient.” arms cross over your chest and eyes roll. “i am —“ the phrase is paused as he kisses your other cheek. you open your eyes. “i am.” he waits for you, as he always has, but after a few heartbeats he gleans the completeness of your meaning. existence is the watchword of this night, or this dawn: let sartre and his kind be put to rest.  

so the two of you kiss again, and when his arms get tired, you drape your legs over his lap and press yourself into his chest. the last vestiges of moonlight have settled upon you, but it is no thing, not when skin feels what eyes cannot. lips are languid and hands stroll up and down pathways and alleyways and sidewalks. brittle substances of impatience are burned away through the silk of his fingers. you are content to rest in chiaroscuro.

there is another breaking: transparent and fortified compound of ash and sand — let in by the moon and the rising venus — twinkles around your head, his spine. a whispered ask, a tender assent: shirts glide over shoulders and he guides in your descent.

breathing is knowing, feeling is seeing: for here essence and existence bleed into one consummate act of communion.

lips touch your collarbone, your breast. your hands plane over his chest in a crusade of knowledge. he does not begrudge your gasps, now, or the arches your back erects to his honor. ben’s lips, hands, the vehicles of his words to the world, at once analyze and soak in praise.

clothes fall away, skin uncovering skin, manifesting a reality that had resided in your souls far before today. before the bar, the hotel, the sweater, there was always the two of you, striving for eudaemonia.

“this is phenomena,” he whispers against the curve of your hip. ben presses a kiss to the bones that give form to your body politic (the totality of your shattered glass made whole).

fin.

Tags: @profkenobi @goldenkenobi @ohhellokenobi @obitwo @nobie @cherieboba @lazzwhile @rentskenobi @master-obi-wan-kenboneme @justrunamok @citadoll @obirain @catsnkooks @royalhandmaidens @kyjoraven @mcu-padawan @anakin-danvers @snips-n-skyguy0501 @saintlaurentkenobi @answer-the-sirens @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @icedcoffeeandgays // please send an ask or fill out this form to get added to my taglist!

[purplesurveys]

1044

survey by a7xbabii 

Do you use e-mail often? I use it for eight hours, five days a week for work, so yes.

Do you hear any animals right now? I’m in a Starbucks inside a mall situated in the middle of a busy highway. It would be very unlikely to hear any animals right now.

Are you in a well-lit room? Sure, I’d say this establishment has good lighting. There’s no light directly above me unlike the other seats, but it’s okay in this case as I don’t want other people seeing me take surveys.

Is your trashcan full? The main one we use at home just got full, so the last time I checked this morning my mom was airing it out.

What was the last crunchy thing you consumed? My chicken barbecue sandwich from last night.

Did you view anything disturbing today? Hmm, I guess so? I wanted to entirely redo one part of my embroidery piece since I wasn’t happy with how I did it, so I had to remove the threads and stuff. When they were all gone the template was filled with holes and it looked like one of those trypophobia photos. I’m not personally disturbed by that phenomenon, but I know a lot of people are.

Are there any holiday decorations in your house? Yeah, we’ve had our Christmas tree up since the beginning of November. We also usually put a wreath up our door but idk why my mom didn’t this year.

When was the last time you had a terrible headache? Last night, because I had not eaten all day. 

Have you recently put lotion on your hands? No. I don’t like the feeling of lotion, so I don’t apply it on me a lot, if at all.

Are you hungry? Not so much, actually. I don’t feel too hungry today; I didn’t even finish my breakfast and that’s the only meal I’ve had so far today, and it’s already 4 PM.

Is it rainy where you're at right now? No, it’s quite fair. The sun’s not too strong anymore because of the time, but it’s still very much bright out.

Do you carry a purse? If so, describe what it looks like. I take a wallet with me. It’s pink, made of fake leather, has three main slots inside, and it also has some tiny bite marks on the outer edges from when Cooper was a lot younger.

Is your cell phone on vibrate? For certain notifications only, like texts and Viber.

Is your dishwasher full? We don’t use a dishwasher.

When is the last time you saw someone you like/love. Around a week and a half ago.

Do you like to wear gloves? No, I find them too itchy and I don’t need to wear them anyway.

Is there a body of water near where you live? There’s a creek that passes through my village near the clubhouse area, if that counts.

What are your thoughts on Avenged Sevenfold? No opinion. I never listened to them; though I am reminded of this one mutual I used to have on Tumblr/Twitter. She used to be a wrestling fan and was a part of our main circle, but she gradually shifted her main fandom to Avenged Sevenfold. By the time she cemented her new interest she then went on a huge unfollowing spree of wrestling fans on her feed and she apparently PM’d each person she intended to unfollow, including me. I remember her explaining that she was now in a different fandom and was gonna have to stop following me which I found...kinda extra to be honest lmao because nobody does that, but I appreciate the effort to approach each one of us, I guess.

Are you wearing anything pink right now? Nope, but my wallet is pink and so is my keyboard cover.

Do you like to swim in the ocean? I prefer beaches, but sure.

What is the creepiest bug you've ever saw? Cockroaches.

Do you currently have split ends? I don’t think so.

When is the last time you used the bathroom? Around five hours ago when I took a shower before heading out.

Do you chew on your lip? Almost never.

Are you afraid of needles? For the most part yeah, especially syringes. I’m not afraid of them when I do my embroidery, but that’s the only time I feel comfortable with a needle.

What is the last thing you lost? A pen, I think.

When is the last time you saw a bald person? Five hours ago, when I said bye to my dad.

What car were you last in? [continued from two days ago] My own. I was driving home from the mall.

Do you like Batman? I tried to get into Batman and the whole shebang of comic books when I was a teenager, but I just couldn’t.

Have you ever played tennis? Never have, actually. I’ve always wanted to try.

Can you see a star shape in the room you are in? Probably not in my bedroom.

What are you sitting on? A pillow I’ve placed on my work chair so that it’s more comfortable. My parents got me a basic chair initially meant just for my internship, so it’s not the comfiest of chairs haha. But now that I have a job, a more suitable work chair is probably one of things I’ll have to invest on.

What is the last warm thing you touched? My chest felt itchy just a few seconds ago, so I was able to feel my skin scratching it.

Do you use hand sanitizer? That’s kind of a necessity now, so...

Where do you want to go in life? [continued from...I don’t even remember anymore] I don’t know if I even plan to make it past 30 at this point. I can’t answer this right now.

Are you sweating? No, I’ve been in air-conditioned rooms all day and it feels so damn good.

When is the last time you had to scratch an itch? A few minutes ago when my neck itched.

Are you in any kind of club or group that is trying to save animals? No, but I very much support the cause.

Who is the last blonde you saw? At work today I saw someone who had her hair dyed blonde.

Where were you two hours after you got up, and what were you doing there? I needed to go to the office today because my team and I needed to pack some stuff to seed to certain media. It was the first time I got to visit the place and it was sooooooo homey and pretty :) I wish we can be allowed to work in the office soon; it would be best for my mental health at this point.

Do you wish for world peace? Um, of course.

Have you ever played fetch with a dog? We were able to teach Cooper how to pick up items that we throw but he’s still slowly learning that he actually has to give it back to us, haha.

What is the nearest object that is wood? The table I am typing on is made of wood.

Do you use Netflix? Yes, we have a family subscription.

Does your house have a fireplace? No, we don’t. And I can confidently tell you all other houses in this entire country, and probably the whole of Southeast Asia, don’t.

Do you wake yourself up in the morning, or does someone else? I wake myself up. On important days, I’ll put an alarm on.

What kind of hoodie did you last wear? It was a white hoodie with a UP seal on the left side.

Do you play games on your computer? No, my laptop isn’t equipped for games. I tried downloading Sims 4 when they made it free for a few weeks back in 2018, but my laptop’s fan started whirring like crazy and the battery got drained super fast. The entire period of me booting it up and then deleting it took like, a literal 15 minutes.

What is the last video game that you played? Mario Kart 8 on the Switch. I want to get myself Switch games as gifts, but I’m just so stingy towards myself hahaha.

Have you ever pet a stingray? I’m 50% would like to at least once and 50% I know of what it did to Steve Irwin, and I’m not messing with them.

If you were on vacation, would you ever go to Ireland? It’s not a big item on my bucket list, honestly. I’d love to go to Ireland, but it would probably be a part of a bigger itinerary, like if I decided to take a trip to that part of Europe.

Are you logged into Myspace right now? I haven’t been on there for more than a decade.

Did you have anything bad happen to you today? Yeah, but they’re stuff that happened at work that are a little hard to explain. 

Have you ever been to New York? Nope. I’d love to take a trip there.

Do you use the term "lol" if you don't have anything to say? Not really. I use it in the end of my messages more so that I don’t sound mean.

Should you be sleeping right now instead of taking this survey? Hell no. It’s a Friday night so the last thing I want to be doing is sleeping.

Can you truly say you hate anyone? I don’t think so. I greatly dislike my brother, but I guess I don’t hate him. I find it too strong a word.

Have you ever disected a baby pig in a class at school? Not a piglet, no. We dissected an earthworm, a fish, and eventually a frog.

What brand of dish liquid do you use? A local brand you wouldn’t recognize.

When is the last time you ate a Hershey Kiss? It’s probably been more than a year. It’s not my favorite candy.

Do you ever feel unappreciated? Yes.

Do you currently have any blemishes on your face? No. My pimple finally went away, hallelujah.

Who is the last baby you held? My cousin who is now 13 years old. I’m too anxious to hold babies; I always feel like I’d drop them so I find myself declining even when I have the chance to hold one.

Are you a lover? I guess.

Do you use smileys often in text convos? Yes. Not a lot of people like them but it’s better to sound friendly and approachable than stoic.

Do you have the Google toolbar on your computer? Like...Chrome? I have the program, yeah. It’s my default browser as well.

Do you like Sunkist? I’ve never had it.

Would you ever consider being a cannibal? I mean...I guess only if I was in a life-and-death situation, like if a plane I was in crashed on an island and I was starting to get hungry. I certainly don’t fantasize about cannibalism on any regular day.

Did you forget something important in the past week? I made a few mistakes at work due to me forgetting things, yeah.

Do you like learning new things? Sure.

What color is your toothpaste? White.

Are the floors in your house creaky? Nopes. I don’t think our doors are creaky-level just yet as well.

Do you fear death? I hate the uncertainty of what happens while it’s taking place, and what happens after. But I’ve been wishing for it for a while as well. There’s a difference.

Is your mouth dry? Not right now, no.

Do yoou have any scars from an animal? Yeah I’ve got a few marks and scratches from Cooper. I never run out of them, really.

Did you have fun with this survey? It was okay.

Was it random enough? Sure.

[atlanticwrapsnc]

The Most Common Myths About Chrome Delete Debunked

Chrome delete has gained popularity among car enthusiasts for its ability to transform vehicles into sleek, modern masterpieces. Despite its growing fanbase, misconceptions about this service persist, leaving some hesitant to give it a try. Let’s clear the air by debunking some of the most common myths about chrome delete.

Myth 1: Chrome Delete Is Permanent

Many people believe that once chrome delete is applied, there’s no turning back. In reality, this isn’t the case. Chrome delete is typically achieved using high-quality vinyl wraps or removable coatings, making it a reversible process. If you decide later to restore the original chrome look, professionals can remove the wrap without damaging the underlying trim.

For those in chrome delete Charlotte NC, local experts offer services that prioritize precision and care, ensuring flexibility for car owners who might change their preferences over time.

Myth 2: It’s Only for Black Cars

While black cars look stunning with chrome delete, this service isn’t limited to vehicles of a single color. Chrome delete enhances any car’s appearance by creating a cohesive, monochromatic look that complements a wide range of paint colors. Whether your car is white, gray, blue, or even red, chrome delete can be tailored to match or contrast your vehicle’s paint for a unique finish.

Myth 3: Chrome Delete Damages the Vehicle

A common worry is that applying chrome delete will harm the car’s original trim. This concern arises from the misconception that harsh chemicals or permanent modifications are involved. In truth, professional installers use high-quality vinyl wraps or specialized coatings that are gentle on the surface.

The key is to work with experienced providers who understand the process. Searching for Chrome delete near me ensures you’ll find professionals skilled in applying the materials safely and effectively.

Myth 4: It’s Too Expensive

Many assume that chrome delete is an extravagant expense, but the cost is often more affordable than people expect. Pricing depends on factors such as the size of the vehicle, the amount of chrome being covered, and the type of finish chosen.

For those curious about the Chrome delete Charlotte NC cost, consulting with local specialists can provide clarity and tailored estimates. In many cases, the investment is well worth the dramatic transformation it brings to your car’s appearance.

Myth 5: It’s Only for New Cars

While chrome delete is popular for modern vehicles, it’s equally impactful on older models. Classic cars, in particular, benefit from this service by achieving a custom look that balances vintage charm with contemporary style. Owners of vintage Mustangs, Cadillacs, and Porsches have embraced chrome delete to highlight their car’s iconic lines while adding a fresh twist.

Myth 6: It’s a DIY Job

Although DIY kits are available, achieving a professional-looking chrome delete requires skill, experience, and the right tools. Improper application can lead to bubbles, peeling, or uneven coverage, which diminishes the car’s appearance. Trusting a professional ensures a flawless finish that lasts.

Chrome delete is a versatile and customizable service that enhances any vehicle’s appearance, from modern SUVs to classic cars. By debunking these myths, it’s clear that this process is accessible, reversible, and suitable for a variety of vehicles. Whether you’re looking to modernize your car or create a custom look, working with trusted professionals in Charlotte, NC, can help you achieve the results you’re after.

The author is an automotive customization enthusiast with a passion for helping car owners enhance their vehicles’ aesthetics. Visit https://www.atlanticcustomwraps.com/chrome-delete/ for more details.

[automotivewrap]

All-Inclusive Vehicle Customization and Paint Protection Services in Orlando: From Chrome Deletes to Ceramic Coating

Discover Top-Quality Chrome Delete Services Near You for a Modern, Sleek Vehicle Transformation

Premium Professional Chrome Delete Services Near You for a Customized Vehicle Aesthetic

Our premium professional chrome delete services near you will boost the aesthetic appeal of your car. We are located just next door; hence, our experts use high-class items and skills in removing chrome trims from cars and getting them customized into sleek ones. It’s perfect for anyone trying to add a blend of modernity through monotones into their ride’s design. When it comes to quality not only does it look good itself but it can also withstand daily stressors such as weather conditions while still maintaining its glory hence such individuals can go for that. Call us today to schedule an appointment and let us revamp your ride!

High-quality chrome delete: Professional removal of chrome trims for a customized look.

Precision application: Experienced technicians ensure a smooth and perfect finish.

Top Orlando Commercial Car Wrap Services Near You for Effective Business Branding and Advertising

Boost your business’s visibility with our top Orlando commercial car wrap services. Our team specializes in creating eye-catching, professional wraps that turn your vehicle into a mobile advertisement. Perfect for businesses of all sizes, our wraps are designed to promote your brand effectively while withstanding the elements. Whether you need a full wrap or partial branding, our high-quality materials and expert installation ensure a durable and impactful result. Reach out to us to discuss your branding needs and schedule Orlando commercial car wrap near me service.

Find the Best Vehicle Wrap Shops in Orlando for Exceptional Quality and Service

For your automotive needs, the best vehicle wrap shops in Orlando can be discovered by searching out those that are excellent in quality and services. Because of their skilled technicians and high grade materials, our recommended shops wrap perfectly every time. If it’s a full vehicle wrap or just a detailing job, these shops have multiple choices to meet your taste and budget. With a great car wrap you can make your vehicle look better while still protecting its paint. Begin working with the finest Orlando vehicle wrap shops today!

Professional service: Expert installation ensuring a seamless and durable wrap.

Custom designs: Tailored solutions to meet your specific vehicle styling needs.

Expert Orlando Car Wrap Services for a Stunning Vehicle Makeover and Enhanced Protection

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Experience professional car wrapping in Orlando with our expert services. We have unique wrap that serves for decoration as well as vehicle protection. By using standard materials accompanied by a modern system our team makes sure that there are good results and they last long. If you require a full wrap or partial coverage, our vehicle wrapping solutions will be customized to fit your individual specifications and preferences. With our high-quality vehicle wrapping services, you can give your car a new appearance. Get in touch with us today to learn about the options available for you and arrange for your car to be wrapped.

Expert installation: Professional application ensures a perfect, seamless finish.

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Upgrade your vehicle with premium Orlando car wraps that offer both style and protection. We have high-quality wraps designed specifically to give a very distinct look without compromising the safety of the paint underneath. Work on both large-scale transformations and minute details with precision is where our talented group excels at most. Choose among numerous colors or finishes that best correspond to what you need. Boost your car’s exterior as well as safety features with our premium Orlando auto wraps. Book an appointment right now!

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Transform Your Vehicle with Professional Car Wrap Services in Orlando for a Distinctive Look

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Elevate your vehicle’s style with premium auto wrap Orlando services. Our team of professionals offers wraps of high quality that beautifies your car and protects it from harsh weather conditions. You can choose from an array of colors and finishes in order to have a personalized appearance that meets your preferences or business requirements. We make sure that our wraps are made with longevity in mind and are easy to maintain. Contact us today to explore your auto wrap options and give your vehicle a fresh, new appearance.

Professional application: Skilled technicians ensure a perfect, long-lasting result.

Economic choice: A cost-effective alternative to traditional paint jobs.

Top Car Wrapping Services in Orlando, Florida for a Stylish and Durable Vehicle Update

Find the best car wrapping in Orlando, Florida who can redecorate your ride in a stylish and durable manner. Our hi-end wraps improve the looks of your car but also protect its paint as well. No matter whether you want the entire wrapping or just some accents done, we are able to customize services according to your desire. With us professional wrappers you will enjoy rejuvenated contemporary appearance plus more secure alternatives for automaker’s jobs. Make an appointment now to change the way people see cars around Orlando.

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In case you’re wondering, our wraps are made out of top-notch materials meant to enhance the aesthetics of your car while at the same time protecting it from damage which would result due to usual wear and tear. An array of hues and textures will definitely help get the desired look that has always been in mind. As such our vehicle wraps come with long term durability guarantees as well as less need for incessant maintenance. There are superior vehicle wraps in Orlando, that provide a customized and durable upgrade for your car. So reach out to us today and let’s talk about getting started on those bespoke finishing touches for your automobile!

Wide range of finishes: Choose from various colors and textures.

Professional service: Expert installation for a seamless and durable finish.

High-Quality Vehicle Wraps in Orlando for an Impressive and Long-Lasting Vehicle Transformation

If you want to change the look of your car permanently, invest in excellent quality vehicle wraps Orlando. They give a splendid and durable transformation for any vehicle. The trained professionals on our team give your car an enhanced look plus an additional protection layer on its initial paint through wrap applications. An extensive collection of colors and finishes available lets one achieve their style or business specific requirements. The precision application not only makes them stay long even after daily use but also serves as a mark of distinction for designs aimed at vehicles. Reach us today to turn heads with your freshened up ride through exploring different vehicle wrapping options.

Get the Best Vehicle Wraps in Orlando for Unmatched Style and Protection

Get the most magnificent vehicle wraps here in Orlando that will give unparalleled style and protection to your automobile. With our premier services, expect high-quality wraps that permanently modify a car’s appearance while rendering paint safe from deterioration. With numerous imaginable options including tailor-made patterns or choices regarding final touches; you will be able to get what one has always desired visually. A professional installer from our expert team provides an installation ensuring longevity along with striking physical aspects. Contact us to learn more about our best vehicle wraps Orlando service.

Exceptional protection: Wraps that shield your car’s paint from damage.

Customizable options: Choose from a variety of colors and finishes.

Expert Ceramic Coating Installation Service in Orlando for Ultimate Paint Protection and Shine

Enhance your vehicle’s appearance with expert ceramic coating installation service in Orlando. Our talented technicians use top notch ceramic coatings that are resistant to weather conditions, UV rays, and small scratches which makes them superior in protection than all other brands available. It helps to give the car a shiny gloss that makes it easier for you to clean and take care of it. The long lasting effect of our ceramic coatings is ideal for your vehicle’s paint preservation and to improve its overall appearance. Get in touch with us today so you can book an appointment for our ceramic coat application services thereby ensuring your automobile remains safe from harm.

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Maximize visibility: Turn your vehicle into a powerful advertising tool.

High-impact designs: Professional wraps that boost brand recognition.

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Customize your car using the best Orlando vehicle wraps to give it a long-lasting, stylish and personalized transformation. We have experienced professionals who use high-quality materials for wrapping vehicles that protect the paintwork even as they enhance the general appearance. Choose a design from our pool of colors and textures that will define who you are or your brand’s identity. All wraps are applied precisely for an immaculate finish with prolonged life. Call us now to discuss all possibilities available before booking for your car wrap service in Orlando.

Premium Ceramic Car Coating Services in Orlando for Superior Paint Protection and Shine

Ceramic car coating services in Orlando are what you require to protect and enhance your vehicle. Our competent technicians use high-quality ceramic coatings that offer superior protection against environmental damage, UV rays and minor scratches. Your car will have a glossy and high-shine look as if it were newly bought; moreover, cleaning becomes easier. Our ceramic coatings are long lasting in nature and help preserve the appearance of your vehicles over time. Reach out to us to schedule your ceramic car coating services Orlando and safeguard your investment today.

Long-lasting protection: Guards against environmental damage and scratches.

Easy upkeep: Simplifies cleaning and maintenance.

Find Top-Rated Wrap Shops Near Me for High-Quality Vehicle Wrapping Services

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Find Professional Vehicle Wrap Services Near Me for a Stylish and Durable Vehicle Transformation

If your dues require stylish yet durable transformation of car wraps; then look no further than us as professionals in vehicle wrap services close to you. Our highly skilled workforce provides first-rate wraps that improve the aesthetics besides shielding against adverse weather conditions. There are numerous colors and finishes to adorn them according to individual tastes or business branding needs; thus if there is a certain thing one needs us to meet their expectations we always try our best. Additionally, those who apply this kind of covering do so with exactness to mask all seams so that they will last long without peeling or being ever noticed by anyone else apart from users themselves. Contact us today to schedule your vehicle wrap near me service and elevate your car’s look.

Stylish transformation: Enhance your vehicle’s look with high-quality wraps.

Durable protection: Safeguard your car’s paint from damage.

Advanced Car Paint Protection Film Services for Enhanced Vehicle Durability and Appearance

Safeguard your vehicle with advanced car paint protection film services that enhance durability and appearance. We manufacture our paint protection film using the best materials which aid in shielding your car’s paint against scratches, chips and environmental factors. Besides, with the current clean cover on it, keeping your automobile’s factory-fresh appearance and also providing defense has not been this simple before. The installation done by our skilled team ensures that we achieve a smooth surface that lasts for long. Do reach out if you want more information about our services on spray paint protective films so that your automobile will not lose its brand new shine.

[the-cyberpunk-zeitgeist]

The Cyberpunk Zeitgeist

>>>𝕄𝕜𝕕𝕚𝕣 "𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪"...

>>>ℂ𝕕 "𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪"

>>>𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕.𝕖𝕩𝕖...

>>>𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕜𝕝𝕖𝕡𝕥.𝕖𝕩𝕖...

>>>ℝ𝕦𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪.𝕖𝕩𝕖...

>>>𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 <𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘-𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕: 

      "𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪.𝕙" 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕>

>>>𝔼𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖: "ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕪.𝕖𝕩𝕖. 𝕎𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥."

>>>...

Flash into the past and look into the future. Recall the early stages of the digital age—the new millennium—and how, at the precipice of a thousand transformations, civilization was defined by its endless climbing innovation. In the 80’s and 90’s, when consumer use of the personal computer was infecting society like a virus, our entire idea of communication changed. The net became a pivotal point in shaping what it meant to be human. Through an ever-expanding web of information, human innovation seemed to spiral until promising “authorship over reality itself”. Those who felt constrained by the world, escaped into a fractal space with infinite possibilities of connecting with others. 

Douglas Rushkoff termed it ‘Cyberia’—a dreamlike place offering “a way to crack open our civilization’s closed-mindedness, and to allow for a millennial transition that offered something a lot better than apocalypse: consciously driven evolution”, but the mesmerizing unity in this newfound cyberscape didn’t last. What followed—what we see around us now—may lead us to believe that all is lost, but perhaps there’s something more than war, corporate politics, espionage. Perhaps, there still exist some humans among us interested in a higher cause: unlocking the mysteries.

While the net was first adopted solely by military personnel and groups of scientists across academia who saw fit to interconnect themselves for research and communication purposes, it soon fell into the hands of the geeks using hypertext forums to discuss niche hobbies or send pictures to one another. The net became a mystic place of interlocking minds, where interconnected collections of data contributed to the neural network of humans that composed a global brain. As this paradise aged, however, the desire of investors to monetize and capitalize from the cyberscape arose alongside it. Advertisements flooded the web; businesses sprung up in every forum, website, and chat client. It wasn’t long into the 21st century that the nature of the web was forever molded by a greed to optimize its use for social credit, capital, and leverage for everything from corporate intelligence, to data harvesting, to control and censorship of media. The symbol of freedom and exploration was thus transformed into a stratified market and a subversive survival game. It’s all so… Cyberpunk.  

In the 80’s and 90’s, alongside the rise of computers and the net, came the rise of Cyberpunk literature—a sci-fi subgenre defined by its retro aesthetics intermixed with contrasting commentary that showed us the wonders of new technology while simultaneously revealing the deep divide that emerged as a result of inequality. Pioneers like William Gibson in Neuromancer, Neal Stephenson in Snow Crash, and Katsuhiro Otomo in Akira revealed the true impact of this divide. In a world where everyone in the streets is chromed up with augmented cybernetic prostheses, but can still hardly afford to eat—a world where cities have been replaced by endlessly sprawling megalopoli—we’re left immersed in the aesthetics of ‘high tech-low life’ people struggling to get by. 

Cyberpunk showed sci-fi fans what it might look like if kleptocratic corporations spiralled further and further into the power vacuum created by advancing technology. If caution and regulation aren’t put in place to protect the people from marvelous creations that humanity could hardly predict outside of science fiction, the people are further exploited and economic classes are further stratified. When this is combined with life-threatening dangers around every corner, the difference between economic class can mean life and death. 

While the additional flourishes of weapons-grade cyborgs, sentient and sentimental artificial intelligence, and laser guns can make Cyberpunk seem like a farfetched reach into a future that will never come, I am here to tell you that this is Society, and we are living in it. Around the world, rising sea levels begin to swallow more of the coastline, and megafires consume any shred of nature or infrastructure in their path. Both of these events are spurred by human-driven climate change which is created in large part by first-world corporations churning out fossil fuels or slicing up rainforests for profit. The global hivemind that is the internet has become the limitless communications apparatus we wanted it to be, but it is covered in adverts and subverts its users attempts to harness its power with misinformation, propaganda, and profit-driven exclusive content. Riots over authoritarian state measures have propped up not only in the United States, but in Hong Kong, Belarus, and all across the globe. Pandemic disease and refugee crises displace hundreds of thousands of humans each year, and the rich keep getting richer by the billions.

In more recent Cyberpunk writing like William Gibson’s The Peripheral, Gibson describes the Jackpot:

And first of all that it was no one thing. That is was multicausal, with no particular beginning and no end. More a climate than an event, so not the way apocalypse stories liked to have a big event, after which everybody ran around with guns… or else were eaten alive by something that caused the big event. Not like that.

It was androgenic… that meant because of people. Not that they’d known what they were doing, had meant to make problems, but they’d caused it anyway. And in fact the actual climate, the weather, caused by there being too much carbon, had been the driver for a lot of other things. How that got worse and never better, and was just expected to, ongoing. Because people in the past, clueless as to how that worked, had fucked it all up, then not been able to get it together to do anything about it, even after they knew, and now it was too late.

...it killed 80 percent of every last person alive, over about forty years.

Jackpot. The repercussions of humanity’s actions finally catch up, and those bits of humanity that do remain are saved by an extreme surge in innovation that manages to save society’s elites. As Douglas Rushkoff puts it in his recent essay The Privileged Have Entered Their Escape Pods, more and more of those who have the capital to do so have already begun their plans, whether those plans are to escape to Mars or to set themselves up with a cushy work-from-home job while the lower class workers are forced into the public during the pandemic crisis. The need to automate away positions for the safety of our species is becoming even more prevalent than it once was in the minds of corporate conglomerates, but the cancerous overgrowth of our bureaucracy has become so bloated and tripped up in its own processes that we can no longer look to our political systems to keep up with the exploitation of innovation. Lo and behold, the world’s looking pretty CPAF to me.

Where have the visions of Cyberia gone? What happened to the early stages of internet punks, pushed aside in their desire to surf the datasphere purely for the rush of uncovering swathes of data? Where did visions of “authorship over reality itself” twist to become ‘authorship over reality by those with the capital to control’? It may seem that this explosive spiral of technological innovation in the new millennium is driving us towards extinction and only saving those with enough coins in their pockets to buy a ticket on the ark, but perhaps it’s not too late to change course and save ourselves from the ultimate Jackpot.

United by the global nature of the net, every one of us is connected as a single living entity that is the Earth—a Technogaia. Developments in artificial intelligence promises us exponential increase in information processing capabilities across all fields. Breakthroughs in genetic engineering could allow us to delete diseases from our genomes, and have already shown minor success in the de-extinction of species. With the first cyborg part already installed in each of our pockets, every citizen can extend their minds beyond capacity; each one of us becomes a journalist at a moment’s notice when injustice needs to be documented and challenged. Nuclear, hydrogen, solar, and wind energy lead us towards a cleaner and greener future. The rise of urban ecology shows a path to optimize the use of space to lower humanity’s carbon impact while providing more space for habitat rehabilitation and the reintroduction of lost biodiversity.

In the palm of our hands, humanity has taken control of the world. With science and technology, we’ve become the manipulators, but if we do not recognize what our impact is on the Dao of Earth, we may tip the scales too far into the Chaos. I’ll be honest in saying things look grim, but these same innovations that have paved the way for flying killbots and smoke stacks spewing gases into the sky have given us the power to reshape the world in a beneficial image. Futurist politicians call for universal basic income in a world increasingly run by machines. Transhumanists pave the way for the radical extension of the human lifespan. Technogaians design solarpunk arcologies to house a society ready to save their Earth rather than one intent on consuming it. Cyberians fight for our rights to privacy and the freedom of information. Just as the visions of grim dystopias in the 80's and 90’s saw themselves transformed into modern realities, we can use humanity’s greatest tool—this near-deific domain over innovation—to mold this fractal reality into our vision. But is it chaos, order, or some harmonious Dao in between that we seek? 

No matter our choice, it’s going to take a lot of united high tech-low life cyberpunks to get there. This is the Cyberpunk Zeitgeist, and we’re living it.

For more works by The Cyberpunk Zeitgeist, see our Twitter page @CyborgZeitgeist

[depressed-x-bitch]

this is just a random rant, but there is one mention of eating so if that triggers you please don’t read !!!

really fucking annoyed that for the past few days my phone has been tweaking, making it so that i can use certain apps because they won’t load or automatically close. meaning i haven’t been able to be on tumblr in a few days, meaning i’ve been being barbaric in the way i’m eating, like wtf i’m eating too much and i’m not holding myself accountable. ughhh this is just shit man. and it’s not even just the fact that i can’t go on tumblr, it’s the fact that my phone is near useless now because i can’t use it for school (google classroom, grade apps, and even google chrome won’t open) i can’t go on social media besides tiktok and youtube (even those don’t work sometimes) insta basically doesn’t work, only actually opens and loads every few days. i can only listen to music sometimes, soundcloud doesn’t load, but spotify loads most of the time. can’t use shopping apps. i can’t play games because my progress can’t be saved, i’ve literally been so bored i’ve been playing the same few levels on a game i have everyday. and i can’t even download anything or take pictures/videos because my phones storage is full even after i’ve tried cleaning it out multiple times to no avail because over half of my storage is taken up by the “other” category that i can’t delete anything from (at least to my knowledge) oh and i can’t update my phone because my wifi sucks. idk if this is just a problem with my wifi, or if it’s my actual phone. i’d think it has to be more than just the wifi, but the wifi is definitely playing a big part. it’s just really pissing me off because this has been going on for over a week now and it just keeps getting worse ?? like it wasn’t this bad before, it was just like i couldn’t open tumblr or insta sometimes, but now it’s like an all day everyday kinda thing where these apps just won’t work. i’ve tried turning on and turning off my phone, i reconnect to the wifi, but nothing works. i’m always on 3 bars of service, and even with wifi connection these apps won’t load. i told my mom about it and she said she can do something about the internet but not my phone cuz my dad was the one who bought my phone so it’s technically his phone, so i have to tell my dad about my phone but i wanted to try and wait until my mom contacted our internet providers but ik that’s gonna take awhile because, 1. this is my mom we’re talking about, she takes forever to get anything done, and 2. internet providers are notorious for having shit service and ik for a fact our providers have shit service. so that’s gonna take awhile. anyways fun times fun times. ig the only good thing that could maybe come out of this is me getting a new phone, i wanted a new phone for my birthday, and my birthday is next month so it’s a strong possibility. i’m not gonna lie, i’ll be a lil mad if my parents don’t get me a new phone because i just wanted one initially, but now it’s looking like i need it lmao. anyways this just a random rant, ik this is like really irrelevant to my blog, but also not cuz bitch this is my blog to rant. also i typed most of this out yesterday by going to safari (google chrome wouldn’t load) and signing into tumblr there, it was really annoying but it worked for awhile, but then it just randomly closed so yea.. but now the app is working ?? idk wtf is going on with my phone !!!!

[darker-soft-starker]

This, too

For my actual ride or die @starkerforlife6969, who constantly wows me with their talent and beautiful heart, i luh ya xo xo 

TW: mental health issues, angst, hurt/comfort, a mention of Skip Westcott

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

Peter dreams. 

Nightmares, most prominently - drifting dust and ash and the crush of cement against the curve of his spine. Often he dreams in flashes of mundane panic, that he’s late for work or he just missed the train. Sometimes the dreams are good, doorways into pockets of time, echoes of memories that feel as real as all his waking moments.

That night he dreams of dinner with May and Ben, except he’s not fourteen like he was when they were all together last, he’s himself now. It’s warm, bright, hazy in that way that dreams are. Tony is there too and they love him. Ben is laughing, all husky straight from the chest as May is recalling a memory of one of her misadventures in college, throwing her head back as she loses her cool and guffaws. She wipes a tear from her eye as she dwindles into soft giggles, looking over at Ben in shared reminiscence. Peter laughs along and catches Tony’s fond expression aimed just at him. 

It’s real, it feels so real. Until the shrill tones of his alarm wakes him up.

Sometimes good dreams are the worst ones.

Like blinking back into reality after one of Beck’s illusions when Peter wakes up he feels every pinch of warmth extinguish to a gritty, cold ash. The memories crumble, slipping away like hands trying to keep water cupped between them. Blinking slowly against the cool morning light, reality settles around him like sediments sinking heavily all over his body. 

It’s like someone scooped out everything inside of him - the call to feel anything results in a mournful echo.

He blinks once, twice. 

Oh, it's one of those days, he thinks.

Huh.

In sluggish, forced movement he takes his phone from the bedside table and silences his alarm. It's sixteen minutes past seven in the morning. He’s an early riser and should have been up already. Showered. In the kitchen. Flicking through social media as breakfast is cooking or coffee cooling or kissing Tony goodbye before the office beckons him away.

Except the impetus to get out of the bed isn’t exactly there. Outside of the bed is everything too big and too loud, even if he didn’t feel so heavy, all of his insides are grey, concrete and congealed, he feels like he would shatter at the slightest touch.

He blinks once. Twice.

The other side of the bed is empty and there is a message bright on his screen.

Had to leave for the office early, won’t be home until late - love you - you at work yet?

Fingers slow, Peter types a response, swallows around the lump in his throat.

Have a headache, stayed home. Love you.

He deletes that. Tries again.

Yeah, omw. Have a good day - love u.

It’s not right to make Tony worry.

He should get up. Piss. Shave. Wash. Eat. Not lie to his partner.

Except, he knows Tony would call. Would want to come home. Would try and shift him out of that concrete casing that presses down all over him and renders him immobile - and Peter just can’t. The thing about days like these is that there is plenty of should-do’s and want-to-do’s but on days like these desire is a foreign notion, incentive doesn’t go here and it means he does nothing. Which only further proves his own uselessness.

So he won’t say anything. He would do anything to protect Tony - even from Peter himself.

Besides, he doesn't want to talk through the saliva in his mouth feels like glue, doesn't know how to, even if he wanted to work through his molasses-like thoughts. He knows Tony wouldn’t mind - but Peter can’t let him see him like this, he has enough to deal with.

Tony is a good man.

Peter isn’t.

He thinks sometimes he believes that he is - good that is. Sometimes he knows that he is - but often the conditioned therapy speak can’t convince him that his guilt isn’t valid, that all his efforts at goodness aren’t just a way to bleach away all of the bad things he is responsible for, that for all his goodness he is just inherently, irrevocably bad.

Rhyme and reason is a joke - why the nothingness takes his breath today of all days, hitting like he’s hog-tied and dumped into the bottom of the ocean. It's not a birthday or an anniversary. It's not a day of any significance, so the inertia that swallows him is baseless - but then again, isn’t it always? Maybe the residue has been accumulating while he's been making quips and jokes because - but what excuse does he have for it, does he ever have for it?

His throat sticks when he swallows dryly and he idly considers leaving the safe haven of the creased bedsheets to get some water. 

Some time later, a minute, an hour, he makes himself go to the bathroom to relieve himself. He doesn't shower or wash his face. He doesn't even remember if he washed his hands. He doesn't get a drink of water.

The bed becomes an island.

Their mattress is too fancy to leave an indent where he normally sleeps but Peter imagines it’s there anyway, a divot to safely rest the contours of his body like a cradle. A safe place for his thoughts to circle, passing from one to another like a slideshow, deliberating, ruminating, around and around like the view-master he had as a kid. Laughably he tries not to focus on it, let it sweep by, but all it does is make the thoughts whirl into a dizzying kaleidoscope.

The laptop on the desk at the far wall shines all chrome and sleek lines, Peter wonders what it would take to fire it up, Netflix his listlessness away. Even his short-circuiting thoughts decide against it.

More than anything the pressure on his chest wants nothing more to ease to the sound of Tony’s voice.

He just --

Sometimes Peter tries to rationalize the entropy of the universe. By thinking every person and force is like a game of chess, energy in and out, everything has a purpose for good or bad, it gets him by. Sooner or later, surely, anything has a meaning or a lesson worth learning.

But then his core is stripped bare on days like today and Peter thinks of his parents and Ben and Natasha and everyone else who is never coming back and thinks this philosophy is wrong. There is no rhyme or reason on a greater scale for permanently blacking out an untold story. There is no greater lesson to be found in a life culled before its time.

The universe isn't playing chess. It's playing darts in the dark.

Focus.

This isn't him, this helplessness. Most days he doesn't feel like this at all, sees the shine on the horizon and the sun through the leaves – and then... some days, in private, his proverbial ability to clot fails and he bleeds out. His bad day isn't a stubbed toe, a missed train and a burnt dinner. His bad day is quicksand, stasis he can’t wake from and completely withdraws from reality - bad days are Ben’s last look of disappointment on replay and the burn of Skip Westcotts’ touch and an aching void where everything used to be.

He doesn’t open up his laptop but he does bring up Instagram on his phone and scrolls through the glossy highlight reels of everyone else's life. 

He must fall asleep because the next thing he knows is a hand is brushing over his forehead, fingers tenderly carding through his curls.

When he blinks his eyes open Tony is sitting beside him. He’s fully dressed, face creased in concern.

“Thought you were at work, baby,” Tony says softly. “You feeling okay?”

Tony’s watch is before his face, reading noon. Far earlier than Peter thought to have himself dressed and behaving with some semblance of normality. 

“M’fine. I didn’t expect you back so early,” Peter mumbles, cheeks going pink.

The response prompts a frown from the older man, the stroking against his scalps slowing as his partner assesses him. 

Shame burns hot in Peters gut when he sees something akin to understanding flashes briefly in Tony’s eyes. Jaw clenching, Peter slams his eyes shut and exhales. Jesus, fuck this isn’t what Tony should have to put up with --

“Hey, s’okay. What’s wrong?”

Peter contemplates his age old story, what he used to tell May and his teachers when the door outside his bedroom seemed too dark a labyrinth to go near. I have a headache. I think I'm getting the flu. Allergy season is sure starting early this year. But the words get tangled in his throat and it's inevitably easier to just say nothing. He can't think of a lie quick enough to replace the excuses in his head.

There's a thumb caressing his cheek, resting at the side of his mouth.

There's a blink-and-you'll-miss spring of resentment in his stomach because he doesn't want to explain at the same time that he does and all of the thoughts bottleneck in his head - like should he act normal? How should he behave, what should he talk about, what will Tony want to talk about, is Peter going to be convincing enough, how far does the truth really stretch - how dirty will Peter feel lying to him -

Every thought stalls like a traffic jam in his head.

Overwhelmed, Peter brings a hand over his eyes and exhales frustratedly.

“I’m sorry,” he manages.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony whispers softly from behind him, sheets rustling as he inches closer. “You’re alright, I’ve got you.” 

He doesn’t know how to answer, chest cracking open as the noise in his head reaches an unbearable crescendo. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

Peter nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. 

Tony crawls into bed with him, discarding his jacket, shoes and belt onto the floor. The cotton of his shirt feels nice against Peter’s face when he curls up and leans his head on Tony’s chest, but he undoes a few buttons to slip his hand inside anyway, just to feel something real and living.

This isn’t what Tony came home expecting, it shouldn’t be his job to look after Peter, shouldn’t have to tolerate this. Peter should do better. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the ache in his chest getting worse with each passing second.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Tony dismisses, stroking Peter’s hair. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re okay. You want to talk about it?”

The arms tighten around Peter like maybe it could hold him together as he gives a sedate shake of his head.

“That’s okay.” A kiss to his hair. “I love you very much.”

“You too,” Peter murmurs, eyes closing in a mix of guilt and relief.

Another apology rises in his throat but he swallows it down, sinking into Tony’s comforting embrace, listening to this rich tones of the older man's voice telling him it will be okay, how strong he is, how it will pass soon.

Peter loves Tony enough not to argue.

It’s enough.

[wissenfurtha]

@cyberdroids​, lore asked:  five times touched   ↳  send me "five times touched" for a drabble about five times my muse touched yours!

the  first  time  lore’s  hands  come  towards  her, nervous laughter erupts from her lips. head shaking,  she tells him she appreciates his dedication to showmanship and characterization, but he does not have to do this. she’s heavier than she looks, made with chrome and synthetics, the few that’d tried to do something similar always made offhand comments.  ❛  i’m  kidnapping  you,  right?  ❜  he sounds almost annoyed when he tugs her towards him with ease. as if she was little more than a waif. he picks her up quickly, and she’s still confused as he walks towards a window. is he...? no preamble, no ‘hold on tight’; he drops. her face hides in his chest as a she swallows the scream that threatens to come from her lips.              she’s slow to remove her arms from his shoulders, her pulse erratic.  ❛  what  the  fuck?  ❜   ❛  c’mon,  it  was  fun.  ❜

elizabeth  looks  at  her  apartment  building  with  the  kind  of  exhaustion  that’s  hard  to  read, but is also extremely noticeable.     ❛  thanks,  ❜    she’s sincere in the way she smiles at him, her hand gently gripping his before going to open the door.     the locks are in place, and bright blue optics look at him with confusion as he starts to drive off.  ❛  what  are  you  doing?  ❜  he doesn’t give her a second glance as his eyes focus on the road,  ❛  you  don’t  have  to  be  back  until  tomorrow.  ❜  he replies nonchalantly before shooting her a look. if she wants to be brought to her apartment; all she needs to say is a word. she settles back into the seat.  ❛  where  are  we  going?  ❜   ❛  you  don’t  need  to  worry  about  it.  ❜

it’s  a  bad  idea, but it sounds like fun.  ❛  a  bunch  of  stuffy  execs  and  musicians,  ❜  it’s rare for lizzy to exhibit vocal disdain for someone, but the way she says it   —   it sounds damn near personal.     his head drops a bit, gaze focusing on her as she remains oblivious to it. used to it, really, a thousand eyes fixated her at all times... what’s one more gaze? she looks at him briefly, a hand gently gripping his forearm.  ❛  figured  your  kind  of  chaos  would  be  fun  at  parties,  ❜ she admits with a smile, and a surprisingly predatory one is returned. faint, but enough to be worrisome if one wasn’t in on his plan.  ❛  oh,  i’ll  be  there.  ❜  the way he says it nearly causes a shiver. her gaze narrows as her hand drops,  ❛  nova,  i’ll  send  you  the  detes.  ❜

the  party,  to  the  shock  of  no one,  is  the  same  song  and  dance. lizzy’s found it boring for a while now. the same people, the same boring drinks, the same thousand yard stare. only, people are beginning to freak out as cyborgs come into the building.    the popstar feigns terror as optics meet the android’s, but she has a role to play. mirroring the worried and frantic looks of her peers as she allows herself to indulge in the chaos. a couple of gazes shared between her and some of the borg, surprised recognition. the crescendos with lore’s absence, and her being tugged away. when she arrives in one of the adjacent rooms, she’s met with a dark grin. her hand resting against his chest as he pulls her closer. he’s all consuming, attention demanding and liz finds herself unable to deny it as his lips crash into her’s. it’s not the worst way to waste some time.

❛  i  —  i  didn’t  know...  i  didn’t  mean  for...  fuck. ❜  the chrome woman’s breathing is uneven as she looks at the corpse of her late manager.  she couldn’t help her panic, waking up with his little gasps for breath. she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. however, after v told her what he had been planning? she couldn’t control herself! data and the borg are already working around her, but she can’t stop fidgeting, can’t even think straight if she’s honest with herself as she tells lore the horror of what she found out. he wanted to take the best parts of her and delete everything that made her... well her.  ❛  hey,  c’mere.  ❜  she swallows a the words, reluctantly doing so, her chrome arms wrap around him as he tugs her closer. her head rests against his chest, she wished she could cry but... nothing would come forward.  ❛  ca-can  i  uh...  go  with  you  and  data?  i  can’t  go  back —  ❜  she stutters out after a few moments.  ❛  that  was  already  the  plan.  ❜